by H. D. Gordon
“What?” she asked, harsher than she’d intended.
He shrugged, a half smile still on his lips. “Nothing,” he said. “You can take off your cloak if you’re hot. I promise I won’t attack you or anything.”
Surah scoffed. “I’m not worried about you ‘attacking’ me.”
It sounded like a lie, because in a way, it was, though attacking was not the word she would have chosen.
“I just…like to keep my cloak on.”
He gave her a knowing look and made a movement to sit down on a dusty bench pushed against the wall with thick cobwebs wrapped around its legs.
In fact, the whole place seemed to be wrapped in cobwebs. The floor was unpolished wood covered in a dust so thick she couldn’t even distinguish the color of it. There was a small fireplace and a space that held a table and a couple chairs.
There was also a door that Surah hoped led to a bathroom, though she wasn’t anxious to go find what waited there.
Other than the two rickety chairs near the table, and a small wooden bed with a torn and sagging mattress, the bench was the only place to sit.
“Stop,” Surah said, halting Charlie just before he was able to sit down.
Charlie’s brow furrowed, but he froze in place. “Why?”
“Because it’s filthy. At least let me clean up a little first.”
Charlie’s smile was back, and Surah narrowed her eyes. He held up his hands and laughed. It was a pleasant, deep laugh that made her want to smile back in spite of herself. But as she looked at him closely she could still see the wall he’d built between them, hiding whatever was there.
“How long are you planning on staying?” he asked.
Surah used her magic to open the front door again and began moving her hands in a gentle sweeping motion, buying time before she had to answer. The grime and dirt that was covering everything lifted from where it had settled and began to move toward the door, looking like a storm of dancing dust mites.
Surah couldn’t stop a lift in her lips when she looked over to see Charlie staring at her with wide eyes. As a commoner, he probably rarely saw someone use magic in such a frivolous way, and while she wasn’t trying to put him in his place, she liked that she could throw him off a little.
Because he threw her off a lot.
After that was done she began a cleaning spell, and soon even the air in the small room smelled cleaner. With a few flicks of her wrist, the mattress on the bed snapped straight, the tears and rips in it mending themselves, the now-clean quilt atop it tucking itself neatly around it. The two front windows now glistened, and the door’s hinges tightened to flush.
Finally, she turned to face him, dusting her hands in front of her as if she had scrubbed the place clean without magic.
“I’m going to stay as long as it takes to figure out a plan and put it into action. With the shielding spell, we should be safe here for a while, but if I know Theo, we need to work quickly. We may well return to find we are enemies of the kingdom.”
“Last I checked, princess, I am an enemy of the kingdom.”
Surah shook her head, her lavender curls swishing around her face. “No, you’re a suspected enemy of the kingdom. Your brother is the enemy, not you.”
Now Charlie shook his head. “My brother isn’t my enemy. He’s just my brother. I told you, I can’t help you hurt him. I don’t expect you to understand.”
Surah’s hand went to her hip. She would never admit it, but his words made her heart ache a touch. What was he implying, that she had never known the kind of love Charlie felt for his brother? That she didn’t know great loyalty?
Or was she just reading into his words too much?
Also, if she was being honest, it hurt because it felt like Charlie was choosing his brother over her, and this was ridiculous because of course he was choosing Black Heart over her. Charlie hardly knew her. They’d met once when they were children, and then their lives had sort of collided this past week. Sure, he’d defied his brother by saving her, but that could well have been just because he was a man who did the right thing. This thought made her chest ache further still, so she pushed it away.
“I never asked you to,” she said. “Really, with all the other troubles we have going on right now, Black Heart is the least of our worries.”
“My worries.”
“What?”
Charlie sighed, ran a hand down his jaw. He seemed totally unaware that he was taking her on an emotional rollercoaster with his mixed signals.
First, he kisses the magic out of her. Then, he acts like he’s afraid to get close to her. Maybe he wasn’t so good at reading her… Or maybe he didn’t care. She shoved these unwanted thoughts away as well.
“These are my troubles,” he said, his deep voice calm, but maybe a little more clipped than it had been a moment ago. “I’m the one who’s wanted for murder and treason and Gods know what else. I’m the one who will be on the run from the Hunters. I’m the one Theodine Gray hates. I’m the one with the crazy brother. See the trend here? My worries. Not yours.”
Surah was so stunned by this that at first she had no idea what to say. The coldness she felt forming around her heart a moment ago turned into a full-on ice sculpture. She tried her best to draw her walls up around her, to block out any painful emotion caused by his words.
Her shoulders sank a little when she realized it was too late for that. Charlie had already managed to knock down her strongest of walls.
She opened her mouth and spoke, unaware of what would come out of it.
“What are you saying? You want me to leave?” There was a small amount of hurt in her tone, which she hated. She was careful to keep her features smooth, though it took effort.
Charlie was silent for what seemed like an eternity to Surah. She stood waiting for his answer and feeling totally exposed, as if she had just poured her heart out and had it stepped on.
Logically, she recognized this to be ridiculous and exaggerated, but she couldn’t help how she felt, because emotions rarely made acquaintance with logic.
Every moment he stood there just staring at her in that forceful way of his and not saying a word felt like torture. How could he kiss her the way he had and then act…the way he was acting now? Had she totally misinterpreted everything that had happened between them?
At last, he spoke, and it was hard to hear him over the beating of her heart.
“Maybe,” he said, and paused. “Maybe it’d be best if you did leave.”
He paused again and Surah’s heart stopped with him. For once, she had no trouble staring at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying, because surely it made no sense at all. Charlie was not looking back at her. His eyes were downcast, his expression guarded.
“If you went back to the castle now, you could tell them I kidnapped you and you got away. I won’t deny it if I get caught.”
Goosebumps broke out on Surah’s arms and what felt like a rock lodged itself in her throat. She swallowed it away and was grateful beyond belief when her voice came out soft but strong.
“Why would I do that, Charlie?”
He looked at her now, his gaze suddenly certain and hard. It was the look of a man who has made up his mind about something. Surah found herself swallowing once more.
“The better question is, why wouldn’t you do that?” he asked. “The more we’re together, the worse this situation seems to get. I’ve seen the way Hunter Gray looks at you. He’ll believe you if you tell him I coerced you, made you come with me. Let’s be honest, princess. You have a lot more to lose than I do. I can’t let you risk everything for me.” Charlie let out a slow breath, his eyes never leaving hers. His back rested against the wall, the picture of calm in the midst of a storm.
A storm that was raging inside her, at least. Surah took a deep breath and let all the troubles come pouring out before she could change her mind. Her voice was controlled, but it took greater effort than she would ever let show.
“You’re wan
ted for two murders that your brother committed. Your brother wants my father and me dead. My father is in a coma because of him, and I’m pretty sure Theodine Gray has just added you to his personal hit list. When I came down to the dungeons to see you, it was because I’d been told you wouldn’t live to see morning. Would you have preferred I turn my back and let you die? Oh, and I’m sure you don’t know this, but Theo asked for my hand in marriage just a couple days ago, said he’s loved me since we were children. Then he comes down to the dungeon and sees us…doing what we were doing.”
Surah wandered to the bed and eyed it closely before taking a seat on it. She unclasped her cloak because she was too caught up in her own speech to think about it. She looked at him now, her violet eyes as serious as an undertaker’s.
“Seriously, Charlie… I’m not sure how you even have the nerve to say those things to me, as if none of this has anything to do with me. As if…” She trailed off, suddenly losing her steam, suddenly very tired and exasperated with everything. She shook her head and settled back on the bed.
Charlie rubbed his hand down his jaw and continued to stare at her. Surah tilted her head back and pretended she couldn’t feel his eyes traveling over her.
When he spoke, the clipped tone was gone, and back was the calm, low voice she had become used to. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a little pain in it now, too.
“I get what you’re saying, princess, but I also know this, I can’t let you risk everything for me.”
Surah turned her head and looked at him. So many thoughts were flying through her mind that it was hard to grab hold of one. She shook her head again, and for some inexplicable reason, she felt the sting of tears beginning to form in her eyes. She blinked them away, swallowed twice, and clenched her fists to keep her voice from rising.
She need not have worried. It came out barely above a whisper.
“Sometimes, I swear it’s like you can see right through me, so how is it you can’t seem to see what’s going on here? What is it that you’re missing? You don’t want me to risk everything for you? Charlie, I already have.”
Chapter 4
Black Heart
The fireball, a burning, swirling blue orb, soared across the jungle and crashed into the trunk of a tree in a brilliant explosion. Flames licked up the bark and seared through low hanging leaves before dying out and leaving a black, smoldering mark behind.
Another fireball crashed into a tree two feet from the first, the impact and reaction the same, exotic birds fleeing the colorful branches and squawking as they took flight.
Yet another burning blue sphere appeared in Black Heart’s hand, and he reared back to throw it, the shot going askew as someone called his name.
Tristell jumped out of the way lithely, her dark blue and black feathered wings fluttering as she easily avoided the fireball. It smashed into a tree behind her, and she narrowed her slanted eyes at him. Her multi-colored dress fluttered as she approached the burned trees and touched them lightly with her hand one by one.
The trees seemed to lean into her touch, and the black burn marks disappeared as though they had never been, the leaves and barks and branches repairing instantly.
The Fae Queen cooed and nodded at her work, smiling at the plants in a way reserved only for them. It always amazed him to see how caring she was for vegetation in her strange land, when she was quite possibly the most indifferent person he knew as far as the value of a mortal life went.
She glided over to him, the pink fog around her ankles parting in her path. Fluffy bits of leaves floated down from the trees like plucked cotton and landed in her flowing hair. She stopped when she was in front of him, the look in her eyes one of mischief, as it usually was.
“Michael, Michael, Michael,” she said, clucking her tongue. “You must learn to control yourself!” She gestured to the plant life, her ever-changing skin swirling with more red than usual, which he knew meant she was genuinely mad. One clawed hand rested on her hip, and the other jabbed a sharp finger into his chest. “No matter what silly problems you’re fretting over, I will not have you harming my children!”
Michael rolled his eyes, a little of his anger falling away just for being near her. “They’re not your ‘children’, Tris. They’re trees. Just trees. And my problems are not in the least silly. Would it kill you to be more understanding?”
The Fae Queen’s head tilted as she thought about this for moment. “Hmm. It’s possible it would kill me. I’ve never tried it before.”
Michael sighed and turned away from her, knowing she was only half-joking, and in no mood for her games. Another fireball was already forming in his hand. The Fae Queen giggled and grabbed his arm, forcing him to smother the fire or risk burning her.
He closed his fist, smothering it out, giving her a dark look that he knew only served to excite her.
Only, today, the look was not intentional. He was really feeling the darkness deep down in his soul, and he felt like the nickname people had given him actually fit.
Today, his heart did feel black.
She trailed the tips of her long nails up his arm, causing his heartbeat to pick up in pace. Then she wrapped her arms around him and pulled herself close, forcing their bodies together in a way that made the base instincts in him rear up. Her tongue flicked out and licked his ear.
“Tell me what is troubling my Michael,” she whispered. “Tristell will help. Tristell will help Michael fix his troubles.”
Michael shivered at the way her warm breath grazed his neck, and smiled at the thought of her sharp teeth so close to his throat. He had no doubt she could rip it out in one motion if the notion came over her. It was part of the reason he loved her so. She was a dangerous creature. He fancied himself the same.
He waited while she chirped to her personal guards in a language no normal ears could ever understand. The Fae guards drifted down from the trees, their black wings more dragonfly-like than bird, their enormous bodies graceful despite this. They set out a bed of fluffy pillows before disappearing again into the canopy of pinks, purples, and blues, puffs of leaves drifting down in their wakes, pink fog scattering with the flicking of their wings.
The Fae Queen fell back onto the pillows without hesitation, dragging Black Heart down on top of her, wrestling with him a bit before pulling back and putting on a rare serious face.
“Now tell me!” she said. “Tell me all that has gone wrong!”
Michael couldn’t help a small smile at her enthusiasm. It was one of the things she could always be counted on for. The smile was short-lived, though.
“I lost the Black Stone,” he said.
“No shit!” she laughed. She plucked the three small stones hanging around his neck off his chest and dropped them with disinterest. “Is this all you have left?”
“Yes.”
Picking up the stone in the middle, she climbed on top of him and leaned down to study it closely.
“What’s this one? It’s smaller than the big one you had, and white instead of black… It’s new! Is it for me? Can I have it? Can I?”
Black Heart took the princess’s piece of White Stone from her gently and wrapped his fingers around it, anger filling him up again. He shook his head. “I’m afraid not, my love. This happens to be the most powerful stone I’m currently in possession of.”
A pout formed on her pink lips. “Always so selfish! You never bring me presents!”
Michael rested his hands behind his head. “Thought you said you were going to listen to my troubles.”
The Fae Queen giggled. “Nonsense! I never said that! I said I would help you with your troubles. I made no commitment to listen to them. I would never say such a thing! Silly Michael! Michael is silly!”
He turned his head and gave her a droll look. After a moment, she rolled her eyes and waved a hand, telling him to get on with it. His gaze went skyward again and he took a deep breath, not even knowing where to start.
“Not only did I lose the Black Stone, I lo
st the princess, too. She escaped with the stone. I’m sure she’s used it to heal her father of the demon poison by now, and I’m most certainly the most wanted man in all the kingdom.” He paused when Tristell cooed at this and snuggled closer to him. He sighed a little and continued. “But that is hardly the worst part.”
She clapped her hands like a pleased child. “It gets worse? Do tell! Do tell! I bet it has something to do with that brother of yours…Oh! I’m right, aren’t I? Tristell told you not to let him near her! Tristell told you to bring her here! You didn’t listen! See what happens when you don’t listen?”
Anger welled up in him again and he had to clench his fists to keep from snapping at her. Usually her over-excited nature and use of the third person didn’t bother him. Most of the time, he even found her otherness charming.
At the moment, not so much. It was particularly annoying that it was all coming in the form of I told you so. It was hard to wrap his head around, but he knew he’d messed up. He didn’t need his nose rubbed in it.
He ran a hand through his black hair, smoothing it back in its ponytail. His voice was stony when he spoke. “I was wrong about him.”
He formed another fireball in his hand, sat up and launched it at a nearby tree. It crashed, exploded, sizzled, and smoked.
Beside him, she flinched and cursed in that strange Fae language. He was going to have to find another way to expend his rage. Fireballs took the edge off, but too many emotions were boiling inside of him for the release of magic to help much more than that.
Suddenly, she was on top of him, grinning down at him with that wide, sharp mouth. Her slanted eyes twinkled with mischief, and her head tilted as she studied him. He ran his hands up her legs, slipping his fingers under her silky dress.
She leaned down and put her lips by his ear. She spoke softly, just above a whisper, which was a rare thing for her. “That’s exactly your problem,” she said, and paused. “That’s the problem with your kind, actually. Magic users. You all rely so heavily on your spells and castings. It is your greatest weakness… Tell me, Michael, have you ever considered what would happen if that magic you all love so much suddenly disappeared? Just poof! Gone. How do you think the high and mighty would like to have that security blanket ripped out from underneath them? Thus far you’ve tried to fight magic with magic, and how has that worked out for you? What if magic was suddenly taken out of the equation? Who would have the hardest time dealing with that? The commoners, or the pampered Highborns?”
