Warrior Fae Princess

by Breene, K. F.

  “They didn’t do much investigation to make sure she was one of theirs,” Barbara said, limping badly, still covered in wounds and her face drawn. But damned if she wasn’t rising to the occasion. Steve was glad for it. They didn’t need to lose another one.

  “The Arcana in training proved herself with her magic. That is not something that can be faked,” Zana said.

  “Will she get a title, like her father and grandmother?” Devon asked.

  Zana swished her long hair, and this time when she looked at him, her eyes were heated with lust. He didn’t appear to notice. “Yes, if she passes her tests.”

  “And those tests are?”

  They turned right down a path that looked like all the others, except the houses were a little smaller, probably one-bedrooms with tiny kitchens and little to no living rooms.

  “They ask the same of all of us—to prove we are accomplished fighters with a desirable skill set, and to embark on a quest.” She smiled at him. “She is lucky—given her magic and her family, she will be highly regarded despite her halvsie status.”

  Devon frowned at her as they walked down the street, half of them trying to hide limps. They needed a rest badly.

  “Halvsie status?” he asked.

  “Half-human, half-guardian. Usually that would greatly reduce an individual’s status. But she has an incredible amount of magic, and she is a result of the Second’s quest. She’ll make a good match and bring honor to her family.”

  “Ah.” Steve shook his head and tried to peer into an open window to see what was going on in these houses. “Your system is set up like the elves’—kind of like the royalty in the Brink. Your level in society, your wealth, your…whatever—it all gives you status points. You guys marry within your station, right? High status doesn’t marry someone you deem low status.”

  “Of course not.” She frowned as she looked back at Steve. Her crystal-blue eyes widened and fire licked their depths, indicating she’d given up on Devon and was willing to move on. Steve ever so slightly turned his torso in her direction, indicating his desire to ride the bang-bang train. Her pink tongue wet her lower lip. “If someone of lower status works hard enough, and has the right skill set, they can elevate themselves. Someone born high can fall, if they are lacking. In the end, you marry someone with whom you match.”

  “That right? And what about outsiders? What’s their status?”

  Her lips curved and her hips swung as she walked. “Hopefully very…very fun.”

  Steve’s dick tented his stupid robe, and he didn’t mind if she noticed. If she wanted to try a shifter on for size, he was more than happy to oblige. It sucked for Devon, though. It was clear that a shifter didn’t even have low status in the eyes of the fae—as outsiders, they had no status. They were a red light when it came to marriage, and from what Steve had glimpsed, the head lady was stuffy, at best. While Steve was in Candy Land, with promiscuous ladies who weren’t looking for long term, Devon was in hell.

  They crossed a wide dirt lane, and even though there were no fences or markings, it was clear they’d just left the village.

  “You’ll be quite comfortable here,” Zana said, indicating a small grouping of cabins that didn’t seem like they’d seen visitors in…a long time. The flower beds were empty, the grass patches were taken over by weeds, and some sort of natural brown wall had probably once started as a hedge.

  “You are not so welcoming to visitors,” Cole boomed, and Steve smirked. He hoped the whole village had heard it.

  Embarrassment crossed Zana’s face. “I do so apologize. We weren’t expecting guests. I’ll relay your displeasure immediately.”

  “It’s fine,” Devon said. Steve didn’t need to have a heart-to-heart with the alpha to know he needed some alone time where he didn’t have to keep all his crap bottled up.

  They really did need that hooch. This place better have some.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Devon said, stopping at the edge of the little grouping of cabins.

  The woman gushed, her cheeks reddening, and fluttered her eyelashes. Oh yeah, the young alpha had game. “Thank you, Alpha Shifter. We would like to make your stay as comfortable as we can. We know you are concerned for your charge.”

  Devon didn’t so much as twitch, but he must’ve been shriveling inside. His charge. He was a guy expected to move on now that his charge was safe and secure.

  “C’mon.” Steve slapped his hand on Andy’s shoulder because he didn’t think Devon would’ve reacted well if he’d tried the move with him. “Let’s get drunk, pass out, and sleep for two days. This will all look better a couple of mornings from now.”

  “I could use a drink,” Macy said, her eyes bloodshot and her lower lip trembling. She had some shit to work through too.

  “How about it, lovely?” Steve asked Zana. “Got anything that makes people a little squirrely?”

  She blushed again. “Yes, of course. I’ll have some sent over right away. Would you…like chaperones, or…?”

  Oh yeah, Steve was going to love this place.

  He winked at her. “Not this time. We need to decompress. Come see me in a couple of days.”

  “Sure. Of course.” She took a step back, bowed, and jogged gracefully back the way they’d come.

  “Snooty bastards,” Cole said, glancing at the nearest cabin, which likely hadn’t hosted anyone for twenty years. “Why would a people want to separate themselves from the world, do you think? What are they hiding?”

  Macy huffed. “The question isn’t what they’re hiding. It’s what are they hiding from? Did you see them in battle? No real warrior has such well-brushed hair. Sure, they were pretty good, but they’re green as hell.” She lifted her eyebrows at everyone. “Obviously they’re not used to dealing killing blows. Practice in a field with a wooden sword doesn’t make a warrior. Experience on the field of battle makes a warrior. And if they give me an opportunity, I’ll prove it.”

  A tear leaked out of her eye. Her jaw clenched.

  Oh yeah, she’d prove it. Steve hoped to hell she got an opportunity so the grief didn’t eat her alive.

  “With your permission, Mr. Alpha Shifter,” Steve said, giving it the dramatic emphasis the fae seemed to, “let’s get out of these stupid robes and hopefully get roaring drunk.”

  Devon stared back at the village, an island with a fragile bridge, and Steve knew he was wondering about the odds of visiting Charity. She’d been put in special, temporary housing while “suitable” accommodation could be arranged. They’d scoffed at Devon when he suggested that she stay with the pack.

  “Yeah,” he said, his eyes swinging to Macy. “Let’s get drunk and remember all the good times with Dillon. All the achievements he’d been proud of. That he’d want people to remember.”

  “Or the times he’d be embarrassed that we remembered.” Andy smirked, sadness in his eyes.

  A tear dripped down Macy’s cheek. “Tonight is for Dillon.”

  “Tomorrow…or whenever we wake up, we can pick a fight with the biggest, baddest fae in this place.” Steve winked. “We have some aggression to fight out…and a reputation to uphold.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Charity opened her groggy eyes, blinking in the soft light of a bedroom. Her temporary bedroom, if she remembered correctly. She’d come out of the fog of sleep a few times over the last few days, confused and disoriented. She’d only been able to take in small amounts of info, and ask for Devon, before a surge of magic or fatigue pulled her under again.

  This time, though, she felt a little clearer. The haze had lifted a little.

  “Ah. I see you’re awake.” A man sat beside the bed—the man from the photograph, Romulus. His elbow leaned on the bedside table, his ankle rested on his other knee, and a book was lowered into his lap. He’d been close at hand the other times she’d woken up, either sitting in the room working or reading quietly, or not far away and quickly on scene. Every time he’d seen her, he’d showered her with smiles, sp
arkling eyes, and words of support.

  He pulled his chair closer. “How do you feel?”

  She frowned, needing a moment to think about it while surveying the rest of the room. In the corner, standing tall, was a lovely woman with a thick braid draped over her shoulder. Kairi, if Charity’s hazy memory served. She or the attractive man—Hallen—were usually within the room, often in that corner, and always looking at her when Charity emerged from the rip tide of sleep.

  Kairi nodded in greeting.

  An earthy, delicious feeling flowed into Charity from her magical link with Devon before rolling back toward him. He might not be in the room, but he was in her body. It was more comforting than anything could be.

  She turned her attention back to Romulus. It didn’t look like he’d aged a day.

  “My mother had a picture of you,” she said, pushing through the fog clinging to her thoughts.

  His smile was sad and excited at the same time. “Yes. How much do you remember of our previous chats?”

  She frowned and wandered through her mental haze, looking for any memories of the last few days. She thought it was only a few days, anyway.

  “How long have I been here?” she asked, her voice scratchy and her throat dry.

  Kairi moved to the dresser across the room and poured sparkling water into what looked like beautiful blown glass. She seemed to know what Charity wanted before Charity had to actually ask for it.

  “Five days now,” Romulus said, entwining his fingers in his lap. “You’re recovering very quickly, a testament to your high power level. You’re reacting expertly to our magical guidance, as though you’d lived with us all your life.”

  Charity let Kairi help her to sit, her body much less sore and achy in comparison to the days before. She drank large gulps of water with shaking hands, draining the glass. She lowered back down, sighing.

  “Where’s Devon?” she asked.

  “He is in the battle yard, testing his mettle against our people.”

  His words continued to flow, but she was still lingering on the last two.

  Our people.

  Warmth wrapped around her heart as snippets of hazy memory jogged forward. Of Romulus sitting beside her bed, uttering the words daughter and darling. His assertion that he was the man in the photograph.

  That he was her father.

  “You said I looked like your grandmother,” she said, interrupting something he was saying. “Sorry, I—”

  “You do, yes.” He smiled, not at all bothered by her interruption. “Like your great-grandmother. She was a brilliant, formidable lady. Heralded as a fantastic leader. You seem to have inherited more than her appearance. You share her magic, too, but with an interesting adaptation. She couldn’t rain down lightning, from what I’ve heard. I was but a teen when…” He paused for a moment, then apparently thought better of whatever he was about to say. “Our whole community is fascinated by you. Thrilled, and fascinated.” Pride shone brightly in his eyes. “There can be no argument that you are one of us. You belong here.”

  The warmth around her heart squeezed before filling her limbs. She’d never really belonged anywhere, not even with Devon’s pack. Yes, they’d welcomed her in, but she was an outsider. Different. She’d never fit into the nice schools, in her neighborhood—to hear that this man was accepting her, and that she had found similar people for the first time in her life…

  Tears came to her eyes.

  Romulus reached forward and put his warm hand over hers. “I am not sure if you remember our conversations the last few days, but given all I have learned, it seems I am your father. I did not know of your existence, or I would have been there every day of your life, watching you grow. Helping you along the way.”

  She swallowed down a lump in her throat. “Why did you leave?”

  “I didn’t know about you, and so didn’t work as hard to resist the pull of the Flush. Of my people, and family. It flooded my very being. I hated to leave your mother, I truly did, but I could not withstand the beckoning of my home. Can you forgive me?”

  Charity let her head fall to the side and her eyes take in the beauty outside her opened window, with the orange haze and gold filaments slowly drifting by. A bright pink flower bloomed within the frame.

  She didn’t really know how to feel. It hadn’t been her that was left, this time. This situation wasn’t like that of her mother, or her ex-boyfriend John. Romulus hadn’t even known about her. And while it really sucked that he’d walked away from her mother, she couldn’t very well begrudge a man for wanting to be with his family again. Especially as a magical person in a non-magical world. That must’ve been hard.

  “Yes,” she said softly, and she did, as much as she hated to admit it for her mother’s sake.

  He squeezed her hand.

  She rolled her head back to look at him. “How are you keeping my magic at bay?”

  “Ah. So soon you ask. That is great news for your recovery. What we do is guide it into a natural release. You see, as fae, we have a special relationship with the nature around us. When we are in harmony with it, our magic is in harmony. That harmony can be achieved in a lot of ways, but the best and most powerful way lies within our skill set. Some are healers. Some are builders. For me, it is the creation and cultivation of gardens. I construct the nature around me into a beautiful tableau and, in so doing, create harmony with my magic. I fuel my being, and give a pleasing release for any pent-up power.”

  “So…I should’ve been gardening this whole time?”

  He laughed softly. “No, no. Skill sets are highly individual. We have yet to find yours. Have no fear, that will come. But that would not have been enough. We are also guardians. Many magical species have a subset of people designed for the protection of their kind. For fae, it is us—custodes. Or guardians, as I said. Combat balances us in both mind and body. It is what we are, and so does us the most magical good. It is very much a way of life.”

  “But…” She blinked through the oncoming headache. Something rang false in what he said. It tickled her memory of a hazy battle. Strangers beside her. Demons. Hesitation in flashing swords.

  She shook her head. She couldn’t clear away the dizzy confusion to call up the memory. Hell, maybe it was a dream. Maybe another hallucination. There was no way to say.

  She switched gears. “I’ve been training in martial arts most of my life. Since I met Devon, and all this started happening, I’ve been battling vampires and demons. My magic has only gotten worse.”

  “You can fight?” His smile was triumphant. “Fantastic.” He sobered in the face of her blank stare. “Not worse. More powerful. None of us could have waded through the manifestation of your power level on our own. In the human lands, I believe you have the saying ‘It takes a village to raise a child.’ That encapsulates the situation perfectly. When the largest portion of power manifests, it does so in fits and starts. It rages through the body. It boils, stews, then gushes, trying to find that harmony. Those with a similar natural magic, and with enough power, can use their own balance and harmony to guide the surges into a healthy release. Your Alpha Shifter seems to have found a way to dominate your magic, forcing it into his natural harmony. Unfortunately, that could not lead you to your own harmony, but it did keep you alive, and for that, he has my eternal gratitude.”

  She rubbed her temples. “So as soon as I learn the harmony, I should be fine?”

  “Given the state in which we found you, the healers agree that you are on the precipice. So yes, when your magic calms, you will need to find the harmony, and then you will sigh in relief. I remember my own journey through magical adolescence…but those stories are for another day. You are tired. Come”—he stood and pulled the covers to her chin before tucking her in—“sleep. Rest. You are safe now. Take the time you need to mend. Your family will be waiting, when you are ready.”

  “Devon?”

  Romulus smoothed the hair back from her forehead. “We need you a little further along befo
re we allow his magic to incite yours.” A look of confusion crossed his face. “It’s strange. It’s as though the shifter magic peels back a thick blanket, and out from under the blanket rises the feeling of glory in battle. The song of the sword. The thrill of the victory. The elders are being strangely tight-lipped about all this, even though many of them fought with shifters in our history.” Romulus’s nostrils flared. “Anyway. Devon is quite popular on the battle yard, as you can guess. The shifters are welcome there, at any time. But have no fear—just as soon as you are well, you can see your Alpha Shifter again.”

  Her eyelids felt like weights. She nodded, content for now with the swish of magic back and forth in her body.

  “Sleep, my darling,” Romulus said softly. “All will be well when you next wake.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Charity opened her eyes and stared at the beams in the ceiling, taking stock of her body. She didn’t ache anymore. Not even a little. When she wiggled her fingers, then her toes, she didn’t immediately feel tired. The stresses of the journey had finally worn off. She felt…whole. Finished.

  The deliciously earthy feeling washed into her from Devon, and she took a deep, smiling breath. Like a stream, their magic coexisted, moving and drifting as it would.

  She startled when she met the brown eyes of a woman who squatted on top of a desk against the wall. Kairi and Hallen were nowhere in sight.

  The middle-aged woman crouched like a mad thing, watching Charity with one eye squinted and the other wide open. Her fingertips, sporting long nails, some badly chipped, dangled between her legs, barely touching the edge of the desk. She wore pink clogs, sockless, and flowing red pants.

  “Hello,” Charity said, rising to her elbows. They sank into the fluffy bedding. For the third time in the last two days, her head didn’t immediately start swimming.