Rhapsody (Bound to the Fae Book 3)

by J. Kearston

  “We need to run,” I breathlessly state, taking a step back. He shifts his body, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Now!”

  We make it all of three steps before he slams into Atlas. Luce is there a breath later, wrenching the snarling beast off and slamming him into the building hard enough that the stone indents. Atlas raises his gun, but Dorian smacks it away, shouting his objections. All the commotion draws Azazel’s eye, tearing his attention away from the changeling at his throat long enough she’s able to sink her teeth into his shoulders and he whimpers.

  “Enough!” My scream mingles with energy, rippling out from me in waves.

  Blow after blow, it assaults everyone in the vicinity, and the ensuing silence is deafening, the dull shouts in the rest of the city seeming a mile away. I glare at the changeling hanging from Lucien’s grasp, storming up to him. Yes, I’m fully aware that my confidence stems from the people around me, know that my mental exhaustion is pushing me into recklessness. Yet still, I meet that solid black gaze and hold it. I glare into his damn soul unflinchingly, sending another pulse of energy out to bitch slap him in the face and he flinches.

  “Enough.” I repeat the command softer, but no less firm. And as he finds the ground incredibly interesting, submitting, my determination only increases.

  Though Lucien’s face is pinched with worry, I stride right up to the both of them, using my fingers to tilt the changeling’s chin up to look me in the eye. “Take a breath.”

  His eyes widen, and though I feel like an absolute idiot, I start to softly sing. Dorian’s mockery reverberates through my skull, about being the dramatic princess that commands the creatures of the forest into doing her bidding.

  I’m seriously fueling up the psychotic serial killers, giving them all of the energy they could only dream of, sealing our fate.

  But as I learned from Azazel, hell, from myself; people do terrible things when they’re desperate. Compassion hurts as much as it heals, and though I thought all forms of empathy had shriveled and died within me long ago, I find myself looking at these creatures with pity despite the blood on their hands.

  Far from Home starts spilling from my lips before I ever consciously picked it, but as I start paying attention to the lyrics, I can’t bring myself to regret the choice. It’s hard, not going to lie. Having no instruments means I need to push harder, add more to every swell of my voice to maintain the hypnotic effect.

  I push a steady stream into all three of them, and when I can barely stand, I dig my fingers into the bloodied dirt, pulling the still hovering energy from the corpses around us that haven’t fully dissipated yet. Their deaths ensure our survival, and when shoes fill my vision, I’m not surprised to look up and see the changelings’ faces peering down at me. They don’t try to kiss me like Azazel did, don’t offer any of the energy back.

  But they see me, and that’s enough.

  Azazel on the other hand shoves them out of the way, head canted to the side and assesses my face. As Luce and Atlas shout their objections, he leans in, lips hovering millimeters away from mine as he returns a sliver of that power; a symbiotic relationship instead of a parasitic one.

  “Thank you.” I collapse on my ass, head swimming as he shimmers, donning my form. “Buddy, that’s the worst disguise you could pick in the realm.” As if he understands my words, he shifts back into Dorian and steps aside.

  The real Dorian appears in front of me, helping me up and keeping an arm banded around my waist. “Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing that.”

  I blink. “Me squawking at the dirt?”

  He snorts. “If only you could see yourself the way we do, beautiful. And damn, is it something.”

  I glance around at the wreckage of the alley, the mangled bodies. “We need to go.” But as I turn to the end of the alley, I see a figure standing there, obviously for far, far too long.

  “What have you done?” Achlys demands, a mirror to my words not even an hour ago, before blood ran through her streets like a secondary river. “She was right.” My heart misses a beat as the incredulous shock transforms into utter hatred. “You’re nothing but a traitor.”

  A shimmering blue shockwave erupts from her skin as she throws her hand out. My head cracks into the building as I’m thrown from my feet, and blacking out on impact.

  Chapter 10

  Lucien

  Groaning, I push myself up, the grass cool beneath me. The others are scattered nearby, but only three sets of eyes stare back at me, and theirs aren’t the one I want to see.

  The three changelings are just sitting with their legs crossed, using their fingers to draw in the dirt where they’ve torn out a patch of grass. Just...waiting. For us, or more likely for Cambria, to make sure nothing happened to her while she was unconscious and vulnerable.

  The once invisible barrier over Achlys’ hidden city has a blue tint to it now, making the place appear trapped within a bubble. Not far from us, deep grooves are clawed into it, bloody handprints marring the surface. Dorian’s pet shifts closer to me, pulling his filthy hand from the dirt to rest on his lap, flicking a quick, hopeful glance at the others.

  “Much more of that, you’d have broken through.”

  His nails are bloody, raw. Yet he didn’t pull any energy from us, or leave us long enough to hunt. The other two are in a similar shape, though looking far worse from the carnage they created before they found us.

  Rubbing my temple, I push through my headache. “If that’s all she had to do to keep you out, she never would have needed us.”

  On my next scan of the barrier, a face peers back at me a short distance away, twisted with disdain. Holding her eye, I stand up, pushing past my dizziness and not showing an ounce of weakness in front of her. She says nothing, nor do her remaining guards surrounding her. They haven’t even cleared the bodies from the streets, just stand amongst them without a hint of sadness or remorse, simply rage.

  “Look at what you’ve done,” Achlys seethes, gesturing around her. “Was this your plan all along? Get us to trust you so you could tear us apart from within?”

  A humorless laugh spills from my lips incredulously. “You all but invited the light court into your home for tea. Your hubris sealed their fates, not us. We were willing to help you. Why throw that all away?”

  That’s what it comes down to after all. She got exactly what she wanted, but didn’t trust that she could keep it, and her scheming ruined everything. She doesn’t deign to answer, not to me. A queen has no need to justify her actions to those she deems beneath her.

  “There will be no greater joy for me than the day the people you control and discard so indifferently realize it. Who will protect you then, when your people don’t believe in you enough to sacrifice their lives for a callous queen indifferent to their suffering?”

  It could be a trick of the light, but I could swear that two of her guards share a brief glance, my words hitting their mark. She may have thought we plotted to tear her apart from within, but that beautiful little idea wasn’t sparked until she hurled the accusation in my face.

  If we’re going to be the villains in her story, may as well make sure the stories are so terrible that people think twice before hunting us down.

  Walking straight up to the barrier, I get the sweet satisfaction of watching Achlys tense. She knows full well the limits of her power, is aware it won’t keep out the changelings. But by the smug posture of her guards, they aren’t, still believe in their queen.

  Channeling every bit of hatred, disdain, and loathing I have for this woman, for this world, I let it flood my body like pure adrenaline. My blood heats, breaths coming heavier and quicker. And when I drive my fist into the shield, I make sure to hit where Azazel had already weakened it.

  At first, I have nothing but screaming knuckles. As I pull my hand back and shake it out, a smirk plays on Achlys’ face, but it quickly falls as the cracks become visible. As they race around the dome, the sound grows loud and ominous enough that a
ll noises of the forest cease around us. That protective shield turns into a spider web of fissures, a net trapping its prey.

  She visibly looks relieved when it doesn’t fall despite the damage, willing to accept the warning for what it is. “Leave this place, and take your abominations with you,” she decrees, like she still gets to issue commands. “Leave us be, and we’ll do the same for you, won’t hunt you down like the traitors you are.”

  I just hold her gaze as I lift a leg and slam my foot into the fractured dome in front of me. It shatters as easily as the bones of the man that tried to kill my mate, the shards raining down like glass on their heads.

  “Stay out of our way, and maybe we’ll send the changelings in a different direction.” I turn, bending down to pick up Cambria. Azazel grabs Dorian, and one of the nameless changelings hefts up Atlas.

  It’s so silent that I can hear Achlys swallow even from here. “Deal.”

  Turning to look over my shoulder, I raise an eyebrow in humorless challenge, reveling in the way she blanches. “It wasn’t a request for a bargain. It was a warning.”

  We head off into the forest, away from all of the corrupt bullshit and death. And with every step into the woods that we take, it seems to grow even quieter, as if the animals don’t dare to so much as breathe and draw the attention of the apex predators in their midst.

  ***

  “Fuck!” My head jerks up at Atlas’ cry, snorting in amusement as he scrambles away from the pile of dead field mice and birds piled up near him. His glare falls on me immediately. “What the hell is this shit?”

  I prod at the fire that I managed to get going, waiting for them to wake up about five miles out from Achlys’ city of ruins. “They realized you can’t provide for yourself and are catching food so you don’t die.”

  He eyes the morbid gift with distaste and side-steps it to come join me closer to the fire. “Like a damn cat?”

  A twig snaps and his breath hitches in his chest, going for his gun, and I put a hand on his arm to stop him. The panther’s shoulders roll as he stalks closer, its black fur split by the vibrant blue lightning streaks the water in this area provides.

  Bypassing the macabre offering, it prowls closer, stopping directly in front of Atlas who isn’t even breathing anymore. It opens its maw and a squirrel flops onto Atlas’ lap, spit splashing up with the impact.

  “Exactly like a cat,” I confirm, reaching out a hand palm down.

  The beast comes over, ducking his head beneath my hand and arching up so I stroke down its body. His tail flicks against my face before he pivots and does it again twice more before settling in at our feet, stretched out and head resting on massive paws.

  “Just...I can’t deal with this yet.” Atlas swipes a hand down his face and flicks the squirrel off. The changeling glares up at him and he freezes, realizing his mistake. Swallowing, he picks the offering back up by the tail and carries it over to the original pile, patting the top once like he’s saving it for later. “Thanks.” Appeased, the beast settles back down. “Where are the others?”

  I hitch a thumb over my shoulder. “Washing up in the river. You’re the last one to recover.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me up?” He eyes the fish that I’m roasting as I pull it from the flames and set it on the large stone beside the fire to cool down.

  “We need you at full energy to get us to the prison. Wouldn’t do us any good to wake you up prematurely.”

  His eyes widen and the color drains from his face. “Excuse me?”

  I use a jagged rock that I’ve spent the better part of the day sharpening to start tearing into the fish for edible bits. “How else are we getting up there?”

  Atlas is already shaking his head, but he doesn’t hesitate when I gesture for him to start helping himself. He flicks a wary glance at the panther, worried about insulting it by ignoring the corpse pile. Ultimately though, hunger wins out and he nearly inhales every piece.

  “What good is it going to do for us all to be separated again? I can’t even tell you where we’ll end up!” he snaps, glaring at his hands like they personally offend him.

  “Then I guess you’ll just have to keep practicing until you get it right.” My words are flippant, but I mean every one of them. “You said it looked wrong last time, right? So keep creating them until they look right before we ever step foot inside of one.”

  He narrows his eyes, taking the last piece of meat before I toss the rest directly into the fire. The last thing we need is one of the changelings turning into a fish on dry land. “It ran off of my energy before, I think. My blood.”

  I nod my head, scratching behind the changeling’s ears at my feet. “So you need to see if you can fuel it a different way. Maybe because we’re all tethered together, we can get it to leech the energy from all of us rather than just you. Then it won’t cripple you and might be more inclined to keep us together.”

  He sighs. “I wouldn’t even know how to start. Last time I was desperate and pissed off.”

  “Still have plenty of reasons to be upset. Focus on those if you need to.”

  He gives me a strange look, considering, before slowly drawling, “You do it.” He meets my withering look with amusement, a thrill sparking to life and waking him up better than I ever could, looking more like the Atlas I know.

  “Excuse me?”

  He gets to his feet, shaking out his hands. “You can manipulate emotions now. If I have to practice, you should too. Get me pissed off enough to manage creating a ring without tipping yourself over the edge and going on a rampage.”

  Tongue in cheek, I stroke a hand down the panther’s back, letting the silken coat on my fingers distract me while I think it through. Annoying, as he usually is, but he isn’t wrong. I have so much less control, and as easy as it was to bash that fae’s skull in, to destroy Achlys’ shield...

  I could hurt them if I’m not careful. I’ve already caused Cambria enough pain with our misunderstandings in recent weeks, like it’s in my blood to destroy everything that I touch.

  “And if I manage it, then you have to agree to let me test it out first.”

  Atlas narrows his eyes while I simply smirk, the changeling at my feet rising to sprint off after a rabbit with a snarl. Remaining seated, I rest my arms on my knees, leaning forward casually, indifferently. By the way his eye twitches, it’s already working. I don’t need to use any special abilities to piss him off when he’s been annoyed with me for days and simply breathing ticks him off.

  “Deal.” A flash across his eyes that I know is mirrored in mine, can feel the shimmer of power working through my system like a shot of whiskey warming my blood.

  A genuine grin curls my lips, for once understanding the feeling that the suicidal man is always chasing; the uncertainty, the thrill. Knowing full well that it’s an unnecessary risk, but wakes you up better than all of the coffee in the world. I had a small taste when falling from the top of that waterfall, but it’s nothing compared to now, when I can feel so much more than I’m accustomed to, like the disconnect I’ve always struggled with finally went up in flames.

  “You’re awake.” Cambria’s relief has my head turning, that smile still on my face growing even more at the way she cradles a raccoon like a baby, scratching under its chin. Black, beady eyes gaze up at her lovingly, pawing at the ends of her hair and chewing on it. “How are you feeling?”

  All of Atlas’ annoyance drains away as he faces her, scanning her for any sign of injury. “You’re alright.”

  Cambria gives him a sympathetic smile, waking up in a similar state as him. “Took a bit, but Loki here got me all patched up.”

  Atlas stiffens like it physically hurts him to look at her. Shaking it off, he stomps over. Loki twists in her grasp, hissing at him in warning at the confrontational vibe he’s giving off. Atlas stops, flicking his gaze between both of them until Cambria sets the raccoon down, cooing at him until he settles down. Still, he doesn’t listen to her urging to run off and find the o
ther two changelings, appointing himself her official guard. After recognizing who she was, the magic that fed him identical to that of her parents’ no doubt, Loki’s been glued to her side. Though to his credit, hasn’t tried to tap into her veins for a drink yet.

  She crosses the small distance between them, much to Loki’s displeasure, and he grabs her hands to inspect them. “Why the hell did you grab the gun?” he demands, flipping them over to search for the burns that are long since healed.

  “Because I’m many things, but a bitch isn’t one of them,” she teases, mirroring her sentiments from when she first woke up after saving us. “And I stood a better chance not having my heart stop than you did.”

  He growls, fisting a hand in her hair before crushing his mouth to hers. “Will you stop trying to sacrifice yourself for everyone, damn it?”

  Gently, she pushes him back, though leaves her fingers splayed over his chest. “Probably not, so you’re just going to have to quit needing people to save you.”

  I scoff. “Says the girl I had to carry halfway to the wasteland.”

  Dorian chimes in, taking a seat beside me. “And that I had to haul through the woods before nursing you back to health.”

  Cambria flips us both off, smiling. “Like you didn’t enjoy being responsible for sponge baths. Make it seem like a real chore to have your hands all over me, why don’t you?”

  Atlas kisses her once more before pulling away, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders. “Why was I the last to come to?” He doesn’t miss the way her eyes quickly dart off to the side, clenching his teeth. “Just tell me.”

  She exhales slowly. “The changelings used up a good bit of energy getting my head to stop bleeding. And it wasn’t until I was up and started trying to heal you that they got the message and helped.”

  He seems to sag in relief at her words. “That’s it? You made it seem like it was going to be a big deal.”