by Eva Chase
She’d exhaled over his knuckles. Had she been passing energy into him that way? I hadn’t seen the dark fae work exactly like that before, but then, I hadn’t dealt with dark fae conjuring monsters in people’s souls before. Hugh had said dragons responded well to the rhythmic, flowing bodily functions like breath, after all.
I inhaled deeply and sent my mind drifting back again. There’d been that one time we’d run into a whole group of fae...
A chill raced up my spine before we’d even reached the cluster of tents. There was no fire lit to provide light or heat for the “band of travelers” the local townspeople had complained to Arthur about, even though evening was settling in. Shadows drifted over the tents from the scattered trees, undulating before my eyes. My hands tightened around the reins.
“Those are dark fae, sire,” I said. A flicker of that old vision, the one that had predicted his death at the Darkest One’s hands, darted by behind my eyes. My chest tightened. “Maybe it would be better to leave them be. The townspeople didn’t say they’d actually done anything wrong. Confronting them may cause more harm than letting them finish their business.”
My king glanced back at me. “If they haven’t been doing anything wrong, there’s no reason to avoid them, is there? I have my sword and you have your magic. I’d like to know why they’re venturing so far into human territory.”
I couldn’t think of any good reason for a bunch of dark fae to be hanging about here. But I also knew that Arthur wasn’t a big fan of caution. “Stay on your horse, stay wary, and be ready to ride at the first sign of trouble, all right?”
“Don’t worry, Merlin,” he said with a grin. “I’ll keep you safe.”
He turned back toward the camp, and I rolled my eyes at his back. He didn’t even know half the times I’d saved his hide. For the sake of his pride, I didn’t rub those moments in his face. But I wasn’t keen to add to that number.
The chill deepened as we came up on the tents. I shivered, but my king didn’t appear to be affected. Maybe because it was a cold that only touched my fae senses. The flavor of it brought back my vision of Arthur’s death again. Was she here? I scanned the figures moving to greet us. Shadows clung to all of them, but none of them emanated the cool power of their great lady. I wasn’t sure if I was glad of it or more wary. My nerves tingled.
She was nearby, I’d nearly bet on that guess. This glade didn’t look like the place in my vision, but those visions weren’t always completely literal. I eased my mare closer to Arthur’s stallion.
“Your Highness,” one of the assembled fae said. “What an unexpected visit.”
“I got word of a camp that had settled here, and I wanted to discover what your aim is,” Arthur said. “War is brewing. Many people are wary of strangers.”
“Completely understandable,” the young man said with a nod. “We apologize if we’ve caused any distress. We’ve been traveling for a long time, and merely stopped here for a few days to gather our bearings. We’ll be moving on to our home in the south tomorrow.”
Because they’d only stopped here in the hopes of gaining the king’s attention, I suspected. The fae man doing the speaking cut his gaze briefly toward me, with a flash of a smirk. He knew I recognized what they were.
“Our loyalty is to you and this great country, of course,” he said, turning back to Arthur. “We give you our utmost respects.”
He bowed his head where he stood beside Arthur’s horse, by Arthur’s leg. The others gathered close, stepping up to Arthur and bowing in turn. The first man stepped back, rubbing his thumb against the palm of his hand.
The chill of that encounter followed me out of the memory. I stared up at the ceiling of the van. The hum of the engine did nothing to soothe my nerves.
They’d all exhaled by him, the same way the fae woman had. I hadn’t put it together at the time because I hadn’t thought to watch for their breathing. And that one man—that gesture with his palm—something about that felt familiar. Where had I seen that before? I closed my eyes.
The smells of straw and manure drifted down the town street from the stable where we’d left our mounts. My prince picked up the pace of his strides, no doubt eager to make it back to the castle before dinner. You’d think he was fifteen and not twenty-five the way he ate—like a bottomless pit. I hurried along behind him, debating whether the discomfort of the ride would cancel out the joy of feasting for me.
A horse-drawn cart rattled by and stopped with a clatter. One of the wheels had popped off the frame. Arthur leapt to help, catching one of the sacks of produce near the back of the cart before it could tumble out. I moved to join him, but I froze when the driver hopped down. He swept his hand over his dark hair, and wisps of shadow followed it. My back tensed.
“Bit of bad luck there,” Arthur suggested. “I can help you get that wheel back on.”
“Thank you kindly, sir,” the dark fae-playing-farmer said. He knelt down to grasp the wheel. When he started to lift it, he gasped. It thumped to the ground, and he raised his hand. Blood streaked down the palm.
“Damn. You’d better bind that,” my prince said. “I think I have a handkerchief that’ll do the trick.” He reached to his pockets.
“I’m sure he—” I started, but Arthur had already produced the cloth.
“You’re too kind,” the dark fae man said. He bowed his head and reached for the handkerchief with both hands. The wounded one twitched around Arthur’s as if to brush against it.
“Hey!” I said, pushing closer. But the back of Arthur’s hand was unmarked. The fae man mustn’t have touched him. He was wrapping the cloth around his palm now. He tied it and bobbed his head again. His thumb rubbed against the wounded spot on his palm through the fabric, as if he were pressing the pain deeper in.
At the time I’d thought the strange gesture he’d made was some kind of tic, nothing important. But Hugh had mentioned dragons and blood too. Had the dark fae man smeared some onto Arthur’s skin with a magic to send it straight through to feed the dragon? And his bow—I’d be willing to bet he’d exhaled over Arthur’s hand at the same moment.
Had the fae man at the camp passed on blood to my king somehow too? That rubbing of the palm... It could be tied to their magic.
It had to be tied back to the Darkest One somehow. Had she ever approached him directly back then, before the last near-fatal time? I’d seen her. I’d spoken with her, unpleasant as that experience had been. I frowned, reaching back into my memories once more.
Cheerful voices and laughter carried across the fields outside the castle. The smells of fresh baking and cut fruit wafted through the air. Jangling music assaulted my ears from different directions. It seemed half the country had arrived to celebrate their new king.
Arthur sat on his temporary throne on the dais, nodding and saying a few words to every person who stopped to give their blessing. His smile was warm and his face bright, but I recognized the restrained weariness in the way he held his head. It was only one month since his father’s death. Long enough for the festival not to seem insensitive. Not long enough for him to have completely recovered, as devotedly as he’d thrown himself into his new role.
I watched him from my little nook out of the way between two of the stalls selling sweets and breads. The first few months of his ascension felt the most dangerous to me. I had a wand tucked up my sleeve and another in the satchel slung over my shoulder. How many twigs were tucked into various corners of my clothing, I couldn’t count.
A quiver passed over my scalp, a sensation like the sun disappearing behind an unexpected cloud, although the actual sun was still shining brightly. My gaze jerked away from my new king. It caught on a figure standing in the middle of the crowd, which thronged around her without touching her.
She stood there, still and unmoved, like a stone protruding from a frothing sea. The darkness of her bled into the shadows beneath the people’s feet and between their bodies. A haze drifted over her face as if she wore a veil of shadow.<
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My stomach knotted. The chill of the fae woman’s presence burrowed deep into the center of my body. But I couldn’t just stand here. She could make everyone else avoid her, but she couldn’t escape my notice.
I squared my shoulders and strode over. Her eyes slid toward me when I was a few steps away. She smiled thinly and looked back toward Arthur.
She was watching my king too. Of course she was.
“What are you doing here?” I said, in the boldest voice I could summon. “You’re not welcome.”
“No one else seems to mind,” the dark fae lady replied. Her voice was shadow too, low and smoky. It licked my ears with its chill.
“No one else sees what you are. You don’t let them.”
“And how much do you let them see what you are, halfling?” she said silkily. “Isn’t this an occasion to pay our respects to our new king? Why can I not do the same?”
She kissed her palm and exhaled over it as if to blow the kiss to him. My arm shot up, the wand flying into my hand. But Arthur didn’t so much as wince. The Darkest One let out a cool chuckle.
The din faded. The rush of bodies around us fell away. It was only me and her and darkness falling. My jaw dropped. The Darkest One loomed over me, her hair streaming from her head like black water, her eyes flaring with a blue flame.
“I see you, little wizard,” she said. Her voice warbled, echoing into my ears as if from every direction at once. “I see you and I’m coming for you now.”
I opened my eyes with a gasp. The van. I was still lying on my back in the van.
The suspension was jostling less now—Jagger must have gotten us off the back roads and onto the highway. I scrambled to the feet and peered out one of the windows, letting my fae senses solidify my sense of place.
We’d been on the highway for a while. We weren’t far from my house now. Good. Because my heart was thudding away and a cold sweat was tingling over my skin.
That last part hadn’t been a memory. The Darkest One had sensed my investigations into the past and broken straight into my mind.
I pulled myself between the front seats and dropped into the passenger one. Jagger had tuned the radio to a classical station, the volume low so it wouldn’t distract me. I pushed the button to switch stations.
“Don’t care for Bach?” the fae hunter said lightly.
“I want to check the news.” Hip hop. Pop music. There. A reporter was speaking in a crisp voice. She finished commenting on the ongoing preparations for the World Peace Summit in Chicago and started talking about a recent earthquake in San Francisco. I pressed my feet against the floor to hold back the urge to squirm in my seat.
Finally she got to the story I’d been waiting for. “Citizens of the United Kingdom may soon be able to breathe a sign of relief,” she said. “The unprecedented storm that has raged over the country for the last five days is finally showing signs of abating. Wind speeds have dropped by half in the last few hours, and rainfall has ceased over much of the country.”
Jagger glanced at me. “What does that mean for us?”
I sagged back in my seat, setting my hand over my churning stomach. “The Darkest One is tired of playing games. She’s on her way to find us.”
Chapter Fourteen
I adjusted the position of the carved obsidian bowl for what was probably the hundredth time. The holly-handle knife lay where it should beside me. I’d drunk my chervil tea and smeared myself with dead willow ash and aconite again. I’d even wiped a small portion over my tongue, teeth, and the insides of my cheeks, careful not to swallow the semi-poisonous powder. My stomach churned with the feel of it anyway. My fae side was not pleased.
Everything was as it should be. Except I wasn’t entirely sure about any of this.
“How exactly is this supposed to get rid of the dragon?” Darton asked. He was sitting up in the circle of twigs I’d laid around us, his arms folded over his bare chest. I wasn’t even sure he needed to be shirtless for the spell I was about to attempt, but it made sense that having fewer barriers in the way would be better. It said something about my mental state that even his sculpted body in all its glory didn’t hold much appeal at this particular moment.
“I don’t think the ritual will be enough to fix everything all at once,” I said. “But the process will weaken the dragon. I think. We’ll just keep going until I feel it’s stopped working, or it gets painful for one of us. And then, if it seems to have done some good, we can have another go after a little recovery period.”
“And then the Darkest One won’t be able to use the dragon?”
“If we can weaken it enough, it won’t be able to do what she wants. And the oath will lose some of its grip on me.”
“So it’s a win-win situation then.” He gave me his usual easy grin. The one that could still make my heart flutter, despite all the worries whirling in my head.
“As long as it works. And as long as we can reduce the dragon’s strength enough before she arrives.” Like all dark fae, the Darkest One should abhor the idea of plane travel, so close to the sun that could kill even her at the right intensity. Most likely she was traveling by boat, the fastest one she’d been able to hitch a ride on. Which gave us maybe two days before she showed her face on this side of the ocean.
Not anywhere near as long as I’d have liked, but I guessed I should just be glad she’d never bothered to travel to over the ocean in her earlier life. Hopping from one place to another through magic, like I had done to get Darton and myself away from her, required an emotional connection to your destination. She couldn’t care about someplace she’d never seen.
I picked up the knife. “Okay. Let’s get started.” Waiting around was only giving my worries more time to dig in their roots.
I pricked the skin of my palm where I’d stabbed myself the other night. The blade slid into my flesh easily, just half an inch. I wanted a steady but slow trickle of blood. Draining myself dry wouldn’t do anyone any good.
Darton grimaced. “Are you sure that part is necessary? You said that in the memories you looked back on, you didn’t actually see any of the fae using blood.”
“No,” I said, “but I saw enough to think it played a part. And even if they didn’t use blood, dragons are supposed to respond to it, and it makes any magic more potent. Now be quiet and lie down.”
“I thought it was the king who got to give the orders,” he muttered, but he lay back as I’d asked. His chiseled chest rose and fell with his breaths. I shifted my weight over my knees and rested the heel of my bleeding hand on the edge of the bowl so the blood would collect there unhindered.
Flow, steady and orderly. Breath and blood. If the fae could cast their dark energies into Arthur that way, I should be able to dredge them out. It sounded reasonable in theory, at least.
The glow of my king’s spirit ran all through Darton’s body, but when I focused with my fae-touched sight, it shone brightest around his heart. So I’d aim my efforts in that area.
I leaned forward, dipping so low that my lips almost touched Darton’s skin above his rib cage. My hair, bound in its usual ponytail, slid against my neck. The warmth of his body tickled over my cheeks. I closed my eyes, sending my awareness down into his soul. Into that bright space with its flecks of shadow, the traces showing where the dragon had passed.
“Darkness, come to me, come through me,” I murmured. The bitter flavor of the ash paste filled my mouth. I parted my lips and sucked in a long, steady breath, willing those thready shadows to creep from his soul toward me.
A wisp of darkness drifted into me. It prickled over my tongue like a shard of ice. I channeled it into my lungs with the air I inhaled, and pushed it on with the thump of my pulse, out through the dribble of blood seeping into the bowl.
Yes. Only a tiny shred of the dark power wound into Arthur’s soul, but I’d taken it. Sucked it out of Darton like poison from a snake bite. I just had to keep going.
I eased my head an inch to the side and inhaled again, r
eaching out to the darkness. Another icy shard drew a frigid line over my tongue. It stung my lungs and then my veins as it traveled through me, but the pain disappeared with the flow of my blood into the bowl.
I smiled. The Darkest One thought I was helpless, did she? She had no idea what I was capable of when it came to protecting my king. I’d break down her dragon bit by bit, however long it took.
I continued breathing at a steady pace, careful not to lose my rhythm, shifting slightly with each new breath. Dragging the dark poison out of Darton one wisp at a time. When the fragments started to shudder and balk, I paused and repeated my spell. “Darkness, come to me, come through me.”
The speckles stirred again. Deep within the passages of my king’s soul, I felt the dragon unwinding. My body tensed, but I kept my breath even as I sucked down another shot of dark fae power.
The beast stayed where it was. With my next inhale, the thread of darkness seemed to unravel straight from that sinewy form. My heart leapt with a rush of exhilaration as its energy streamed out of me through my blood.
I refocused, willing my body to relax. Steady, even flow. This only worked as long as I appealed to the dark energy’s preferred state.
I leaned even closer to Darton, my lips grazing his chest, as near as I could get while still leaving room for breath. The more darkness I could pull out with each inhale, the better. The sting of the alien energy passing through me barely pained me now. All that mattered was watching the taint of darkness gradually release from his soul.
I crossed his heart and made my way down the other side of his rib cage. I’d just taken what might have been my hundredth breath when a faint groan escaped Darton’s throat. I jerked my head up, my eyes popping open. Had I hurt him?
Darton was gazing up at the ceiling. His face was flushed, but he didn’t appear to be in pain. “It’s fine,” he said without looking at me. His voice came out slightly ragged. “Don’t worry about it. As long as it’s working, don’t stop.”
