Warrior Fae Princess

by Breene, K. F.

  The knock sounded again. She shrugged.

  “Yes, Halvor?” her father said.

  “Second—” Halvor cut off whatever he’d been about to say when he caught sight of her. He composed himself, if a rock could be said to compose itself.

  “Go ahead, Halvor. I doubt she feels bad for whatever she’s done.”

  “The guest houses, Second. They are…destroyed.”

  Her father’s eyebrow ticked up. “Destroyed? However did you do that?”

  “I have magic. If you use it right, it blows things up,” she said.

  Her dad’s smile beamed brighter. “I see.”

  “Do you?” Anger overcame her again. Her dad took a step back. “What sort of people treat their guests like garbage? How does that look on you as a people? Sorry—on us as a people?”

  A small crease formed between his brows.

  “Did people ignore them?” she asked, thinking about the woman who hadn’t noticed Devon the night before. She was an asshole for not having picked up on this sooner. Her people were all assholes for thinking this behavior was right.

  An embarrassed look crossed her father’s face, gone so fast that Charity thought she’d imagined it.

  “And all this halvsie stuff?” she continued. “You can’t treat people like this, Dad. You can’t. Right now the shifters—and a lot of people, I think—regard the guardians reverently, as warriors. They even call you warrior fae! If they knew you treated people like this, hiding in your natural nook far away from trouble while the elves torture people for info and the—”

  He touched her shoulder and his eyes took on a keen edge. “What was that?”

  “What was…what?”

  “The elves…”

  She frowned at him. How could he not know?

  She explained what Emery had told them about the elves’ recent history of torturing and sometimes killing for information. Her father’s brow lowered as she explained the elves had been randomly grabbing people to question.

  “This is pretty common knowledge,” she finished. “Ask Emery—though I guess he left. But he knows exactly what the elves are capable of. He put himself at great risk to lead our party through the wilds. If you can get hold of Vlad, I’m sure he’d love to fill your ears on the state of things. I mean…you live here—you should know all this.”

  Her dad’s gaze zipped behind her, and something new moved within his eyes. A smoldering light, of sorts, heating to flame. Halvor had stood to the side of the space and listened intently.

  Her dad’s lips pinched together. It meant he was disappointed. “Thank you, Charity, for all you have said. Now, if you will leave me to speak with Halvor—”

  “Yeah, sure. No problem. But, to be honest, I came here to give you a hug goodbye. I’m leaving—”

  “No.” She nearly snapped to attention, such was the force of his bark. “You will not leave.”

  Thankfully, she had a lot of experience rebuffing a powerful alpha.

  “Sorry, Dad, but you can’t stop me. Neither can your manservant-assassin. Unless you try to kill me, that is, but if you do that, you should remember that I can rain down lightning. I’ll take your best fighters to the grave with me. We halvsies can be unpredictable fuckers.”

  Her father’s eyebrow ticked upward again. That eyebrow could convey so many things. She hadn’t a clue about half of them.

  More footsteps. Halvor quickly ducked out to allow Charity’s grandmama to fill the doorway.

  “Oh, Charity,” her grandmother said, out of breath and pale-faced. “Yes. I wondered… I’ve heard word that the guest houses are on fire. Blown to bits.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Romulus said, a twinkle in his eyes. “We’re planning some improvements.”

  “We’re…” She looked back and forth between Charity and Romulus. “We didn’t discuss—”

  “I also need to speak with you about some logistical issues.” He stepped closer and lowered his hand onto Charity’s shoulder. “Charity and I need to leave within the next few days. We’ll need supplies and to arrange adequate coverage for my governing duties. Charity was not able to finish her business with the Alpha Shifter before he moved on. I will, of course, need to chaperone her to the human lands.”

  “You’re… You…”

  “First,” someone said, also out of breath. “The Red Prophet! She’s gone!”

  “No, dear. Check the trees,” Charity’s grandmother replied, annoyed. “Or that crawlspace in her house. She got stuck there last fall, remember?”

  “She left a note, First. She’s gone with the Alpha Shifter. She has decided to spend her days in the Brink, where the sky is blue and the ocean is purple.”

  Charity grimaced. The Red Prophet might be a little disappointed when she made it to the beach. Unless, of course, she got her hands on some acid.

  “There.” Romulus nodded triumphantly. “Now it cannot be denied. I will escort Charity to the Brink, both to ascertain the whereabouts of the Red Prophet and so that Charity can complete her business.”

  “We won’t have Vlad’s protection this time,” Charity said, thinking out loud. “It’ll be dangerous, and that’s if the elves or demons don’t find us.”

  “Elves or demons bothering our kind?” the First scoffed. “A custodes needing a vampire’s protection? Ridiculous. We are the protection.”

  “Is this like when an old—I mean, out-of-touch person tries to figure out the internet?” Charity grinned. “They just don’t understand things have changed and someone has to explain it?”

  Her dad pressed his lips together, which meant he was holding back laughter.

  Her grandmother’s eyes flashed fire. “No,” she said, taking a step back. A strange sort of heaviness pressed down upon the room. The desire to stay within this beautiful, natural place intensified. “I forbid it. The Flush is our home. Our people would do well to stay within it. There is nothing for us out there. We are not the royal guard, as the elves would like. We are not another species’ doormat. We are the custodes, and we will decide our fate.”

  Music rang in those words. The will behind them tugged on Charity. The hollowness in her middle felt like a vast chasm.

  Romulus sighed, his expressiveness not like him.

  “You remember when you were away the last time, darling.” The First stepped toward Romulus. “When you were in that tiny cottage in the human lands with that rosy-faced woman. You remember how much you missed it here.”

  Confusion stole over Romulus’s expression. The air in the room thickened. The desire to head home, straighten up everything, and settle in for the long haul nearly stole Charity’s breath. It was a feeling she’d never had before. Certainly not in Santa Cruz, and not even where she grew up, where Walt always sullied the definition of home. But here, now, she couldn’t think of living any other place.

  She was being manipulated somehow.

  “Yes. She did have rosy cheeks, like she was blushing every time she smiled. It was endearing.” His brow furrowed. “I’d nearly forgotten. How did you know that?”

  “You talked about her a great deal after you returned.” The First smiled, her condescension ringing loudly. She didn’t much care for Charity’s mom, that was clear. She was human, after all.

  The air continued to push down on Charity. The desire to put down deep roots twisted in her middle, nearly as strong as the desire to protect her world, at all costs, from those who would rip it away. From outsiders.

  Suddenly it made sense why that woman wouldn’t look at Devon. Why the pack was pushed out to the edges of the community, out of the way. This feeling, which threatened to sweep her away, made that treatment more comfortable. Only one thing kept her head, and it wasn’t her head at all. Devon had left with her heart. He had a place in her soul. No magic could touch that.

  “This is false,” Charity said, anger inspiring her stubbornness. She gritted her teeth. “This feeling is false.” She stared accusingly at her grandmama. “Are you doing this? Can gua
rdians create magic that messes with people feelings?”

  “No, darling,” Romulus said, confusion still weighing down his features. “That magic is mostly legend. None of my family has had it in many generations. No, what you are feeling is the call of these lands. It is powerful. You’ve been ensnared, as we all have. Mother is right. Maybe—”

  Shaking her head, Charity took a step back. It wasn’t these lands. This was magic, it had to be. And given that Charity could tell Romulus was telling the truth, it had to be from the First. But why was she feeling it now and hadn’t before? Surely her grandmama would want to tempt her to push Devon away.

  And then it hit her. Like a Mack truck.

  “You kept me busy, and away from the shifters, as much as possible,” Charity said to her grandmama. “You hinted at your displeasure at them seeing me in the evenings. That wasn’t because their magic would incite mine—it was because the shifter magic circumvents your magic somehow, doesn’t it? On the battle yard, when Devon blasted his magic out, people awoke as though from a dream. I saw it. People begged to fight them. Begged to bed them. Was that because of sexual taboo or promiscuity, or because they wanted to feel normal? They wanted the fire that the shifter magic allows them to feel?”

  “You insolent child—” her grandmama started.

  “Devon and I had a magical link. His magic was constantly with me. Constantly protecting me from this…whatever this is. Only now that he’s gone—that his magic is gone from me—do I feel it.” Charity laughed and shook her head. “You’re keeping people here, aren’t you? You’re basically trapping them here with your magic. What are you hiding from?”

  “I never mentioned the cottage,” Romulus said softly, almost like he was talking to himself, working something out. “Purposely. I didn’t want you to know she was poor. How did you know…”

  His voice trailed away. Pieces of the puzzle snapped into place. He studied the First.

  “Those that have left…they’ve mostly been elders,” he said. “Those that left had witnessed our history outside of this place, instead of just hearing about it. Those that have stayed are unnecessarily tight-lipped about the shifters. About why we stay here. About what happened to Grandmother and Grandfather in the royal palace.” He shook his head slowly. “Tell me you aren’t manipulating your people, Mother. Tell me Charity is way off base.”

  The First brought herself up regally. “It was decided. After your grandmother and grandfather were slaughtered in the royal palace, and I was newly in charge, my councilors agreed—we would gather our people together and live here, away from influence. Away from the unnecessary danger thrust upon us by those selfish, conniving elves. My magic was just blossoming at that time. My powers to sway my people were just manifesting. We all agreed that it was Fate. A divine nudge. I could protect us all. I could save us all. And so I did. Those that didn’t agree left, yes, that is true. And some younger who slipped away without my knowledge. But this is for the greater good. Keeping my magic hidden was for the greater good—everyone agreed! And here we’ve lived in harmony. In balance.”

  “In boredom. Withering,” Charity said. “Cut off from your one true purpose.”

  Romulus didn’t seem to hear Charity. “But how did your magic reach me in the human lands?” His voice was wispy. He didn’t want to accept the obvious.

  “You are the Second. Your duty is here. You made a connection, your quest was fulfilled, and it was time you came home. End of story.” The First pushed her hair off her face indignantly.

  “And I suppose the advisors covered for you when you were gone,” Romulus said. “I suppose they helped through all these long years to lie to our people, and hold them hostage, as you were clearly doing me.”

  “We are leaders, Romulus. We have a duty to our people.”

  “That duty is not lying, Mother. It is not drugging them with magic. It is not hiding from the ruling power in fear. In…cowardice. What you have done—what you are doing—is against our laws. Hiding magic is a punishable offense, especially magic such as this. How you kept it from us…from me…”

  His mouth opened and closed like a fish’s. He was, truly, at a loss. That much Charity could read.

  “What did you expect me to do, Romulus?” the First said in a lowered tone. “I was nineteen and my parents had just died. Been killed, if you must know. Assassinated. My world was ripped out from under me. My magic was surging, battering me. Our people’s numbers had been steadily falling, and after that bloodbath at the palace, going through us to get to the elf royalty, they were nearly cut in half. I saw friends die. I held them in my arms as they took their last breath. Something had to be done. Why else do you think the council crafted this plan and still, to this day, follow through? Our numbers now are higher than they’ve ever been in history. Our youth are growing up in peace and harmony, with long, happy lives in front of them. Because of me, they have futures. Because of me, we have a community. A growing, prospering community. This is what is best for our people.”

  Romulus blew out a sigh and shook his head. “Maybe it was, Mother. But times have changed. And clearly, it is time to assess that change for myself. Without your influence.”

  His nostrils flared and he turned to Charity, his movements precise, his anger probably about to blow his head off.

  “Charity, darling, I am so very sorry. For all of this. Things…are not as they appear. As they should be. I beg of you, give me a couple days. I must speak to the advisors. I must formulate a plan. Then I will accompany you into the human lands. I would like to meet with the shifters. I would like to see what has become of the worlds in our absence. It is time.”

  “No, Romulus, I forbid—”

  Romulus held up his hand, silencing his mother. “I understand that you acted in good faith, Mother, but now we must see if the people will forgive you. We must see if they still want to be led by you. That is our way, as you well know. The punishment will fit the crime, and the people will decide how severe that crime was. It is they who have been beguiled, after all.”

  Charity stood, struck mute. She had no idea, in coming here, that this would happen. That she would, single-handedly, uncover old wounds and deep secrets. That she might be responsible for the upheaval of the guardians, or even pulling her father out of the Flush.

  “When you find your true home, you will know it. And with that home you must stay so that others of your kind will stay with you.”

  It was all so clear now. This had been her job all along. This had been her duty. She was tasked with goading the guardians—the warrior fae—out of the Flush so that they would join the magical world once again. Maybe her grandmama’s fate was to grow back the numbers, and now, teamed with the shifters, perhaps they could sustain them. But regardless, Charity was the catalyst to push them toward their true purpose. And Devon had been Charity’s tool in doing so. He’d shielded her when she was weak, and then pushed her to action when she was strong. They were working as a team, even now.

  Devon was her true home, and she’d be damned if she’d lose it.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “We’ve got incoming, Second,” Halvor said, fitted expertly in the middle of their small group as they traveled the wide, manicured path through what Emery had described as a highway through the dead center of the Realm. The place everyone who was anyone walked.

  Until now, he’d only set foot there once, before he was banned from the Realm.

  Three lithe creatures walked toward them, practically dancing along the path. Their arms swished one way, their toes flipped a little when they raised their feet, and their hair flared out behind them without any wind. Elves. If a children’s parade had followed behind them, complete with dragons and unicorns, it wouldn’t have seemed out of place.

  “They are sojets, nothing more,” Romulus said softly.

  “What are so-jets?” Charity hadn’t quite gotten the sounds right.

  “Elf foot soldiers,” Halvor said. “Armed for battle, bu
t fairly stupid. They follow directions to the letter, but aren’t trusted with important information. Killing them is forgivable. Shows great prowess.”

  “Not anymore,” Emery said, slipping past Hallen and Kairi, who walked to Charity’s left, and into the middle of the group with Halvor. “Kill one of them, and their kind will kill your whole family.”

  “Nonsense,” Romulus said pleasantly. His tense and ready body said his mood wouldn’t hinder his vicious reaction should one of these things attack. “They wouldn’t be able to kill my family. Mother may be getting up in years, but she can wield a knife better than Halvor. She’d have them split from neck to navel before they uttered a syllable.”

  A grin pulled at Emery’s lips.

  The rest of the guardians spread out, covering the path and ensuring their presence was known. Not that anyone could mistake them. Eleven of Romulus’s guard had set out with them, including Halvor—assistants, basket weavers, and table makers turned fighting machines in their loose pants, snug shirts, and the leather bands around their middles. It was the same outfit the Red Prophet had first dressed Charity in. The rest had stayed behind. For now, the First was still in charge, but she was being held accountable for her actions. She would get time to explain herself. To open up the not-often-talked-about history that led to those decisions. She’d hope to win back trust.

  While that was happening, Romulus would get a better idea of what was happening in the outside world. He’d get an idea of the next steps, so when he went back, they could formulate a plan.

  Kairi and Hallen had been sent along with Charity. Hallen was a little sullen, but he hadn’t mentioned his black eye.

  “Protocol?” Halvor asked Romulus softly.

  Unlike the shifter formation, the leader here took front and center, advertising his status. The most vicious, advanced fighter of the pack hid in the middle, the place usually reserved for vulnerable people.

  The guardians had no vulnerable people. Or so Halvor had said when Charity mentioned the shifter way.

  Halvor was the secret weapon, as it were, and would explode out to attack anyone stupid enough to threaten the group. Charity had seen him in action twice so far, both times taking out the offending magical creatures by surprise and scattering them or killing them within minutes. The other advantage the maneuver afforded the most advanced fighter was positioning. He could explode out of any side if the situation demanded it.