Arise (After the Reign Book 1)

by CK Dawn

  Um, no! Instead of instinctually lashing out, Mira tried to salvage the deteriorating situation. “Oh, uh--” What the hell am I doing up here? She still hadn’t thought that far ahead and didn’t have an excuse other than to meet some boys.

  “I’ll take that.” Saving her from further embarrassment, Bean spoke up from behind the bar. “Obviously, Mordecai sent this one up special.” Just as fae-born vampires were able to lie, so too were their dusk blood counterparts like Bean. The tall burly man had once been human before he was turned by a fae-born vampire, so he must have had a lifetime to practice fibbing. Her bartending savior grinned from ear to ear knowing full well she had absolutely no reason to be there.

  After taking the box from her sweaty hands, Bean walked back behind the long old fashioned wooden bar. The moment the weight lifted from her hands, Mira felt lightheaded. She chalked it up to nerves, even though the sensation was eerily reminiscent of a similar episode during her botched divination spell during class. That ominous warning still had her nerves on edge.

  Motioning to a newly freed stool, Conor welcomed her to have a seat beside him. “Hi,” he greeted again, taking pity on her embarrassment. He must have realized the box had been a ruse and her only excuse to be there.

  “Hi.” Mira’s ears were on fire and a wave of exhaustion hit her all of a sudden. Relieved to sit down, she tried to ignore her embarrassment and odd fatigue.

  “Care for a drink? Whiskey? Blue Pixie Fiz?” He asked under his breath, possibly trying to assess her true age since most fae could be a hundred and look seventeen.

  “I can’t.” She shook her head.

  “Blood?” Another of the boys offered.

  She shook her head vigorously then.

  “Maybe coffee?” One of the boys tried to maneuver his way to the front of the bar.

  Mira couldn’t tell if they were just being polite hosts and vying for a new fae’s attention or making a game of figuring out what type of fae she truly was.

  Conor spoke up again. “Coffee, yes.” He asserted dominance over the others by lifting his hand in the air to quiet their guesses. “I actually know this great little place in New York. If you’d like to--”

  “Ha! I mean,” Bean’s booming voice interrupted. He was oblivious, submersed in his quest at attempting to still make the contents of the box seem relevant as he put the items on a shelf. “Why else would he send up an Etain-Tice but for something super important?” He blathered on with his back turned to them.

  Apparently he had not used his lifetime practicing and honing little white lies.

  All sound stopped again.

  Bean slowly turned and gave an apologetic look to Mira after he realized what he’d revealed. The boys stared at her in slight fear and awe that time.

  Conor almost spat his drink back into his glass and his eyes got wide. “You’re uh, the Horseman of War’s daughter? And Cloe Etain, the, uh, Phoenix Horseman? You’re that Mira Etain-Tice?”

  “Um...yes?”

  “Woah.” Conor didn’t hide his surprise as he took a large swig of the brown liquor in his glass.

  Mira sat there, dreading the awkward silence more than the inquisition.

  “You’re not going to believe this, but I forgot, I, we have somewhere we need to be. Our work for Mordecai is never done, you know? But, uh, rain check on coffee in New York?” There was a new tinge of nervousness in his voice. But there was something else, an obvious piqued interest because of who she was. Still, he’d dared to ask. “Say yes.” A hesitant smile warmed his face.

  Bean whipped his head in Conor’s direction, then his scowl landed on Mira. He disapproved of the idea as if Mira leaving the Hollow had stirred a bad memory of deja vu in him.

  Mira refused to acknowledge Bean’s glares as his eyes darted back and forth between her and Conor like he was watching a tennis match. “Yes, please, I’d like that very much.” She smiled at Conor even as he and the other boys made their hasty escape.

  “Good.” Conor rushed his group down the stairs. “I’ll see you later then?”

  Mira nodded, but his back was already turned.

  “Sorry about that, kiddo, I,” Bean tried to explain once Conor’s group left. He started wiping the bar down absentmindedly with a damp white towel. “I didn’t mean to--” He didn’t finish, though, maybe not knowing what to say. Instead, he made himself scarce and left Mira to wallow in her mortification alone.

  God that was awful. I’m a mess and ridiculous. She brushed Conor’s empty glass away and slid it farther down the bar top. Yes, please? Could I have sounded any more desperate?! With her elbows on the bar, she put her cheeks in her palms.

  “Wow, now that was some seriously horrible flirting.” Sawyer scoffed as he stepped out of the shadows.

  “Ya think?” Mira sulked, not sure if he meant her horrid abilities or Conor’s wavering interest. “Let me be, I already feel sick.”

  “I mean, surely there’s been a stable boy or two even from high atop your castle tower.” He came closer, ignoring her request. “You do know what flirting is...right?”

  “Yes, I know what flirting is!” Mira balked, spinning in her seat and virtually yelling in his ear. “In theory.” She admitted in a hushed voice and turned back toward the bar slowly hoping the room wouldn’t threaten to swirl around her again.

  He took a seat beside her in the empty room.

  “You know, your ideal grand fae castle is still only brick and mortar. It’s just a thing, a place. It shouldn’t define me, just like the dregs you obviously crawled out of don’t define you. And before you say I can’t possibly know anything about you,” she ridiculed his dumbfounded reflection in the mirror staring back at her from behind the bar. “You wear your struggles like a proud chip on your shoulder. As if only you are allowed your spite and rage. You mock me, comparing me to some silly thing in her tower, isolated, and alone. Well, you’re only half wrong. Even a so-called Princess is entitled to feel trapped in her gilded cage, Sawyer Dean.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh!” She chastised.

  Eventually, he had to stifle a chuckle.

  “Why is that so funny?”

  “It’s not. I like how you say my full name when you’re angry.” His reflection smiled at her, refusing to look away. “That’s all.”

  “Oh.” She blushed.

  “Oh.” He teased, trying to lighten the conversation.

  “I’m from Bremerton, Washington, actually. Well mostly. We don’t live in the ancient Light and Dark castle in Fae if you must know.” She blurted out, still defensive about his presumptions about her extravagant life.

  “Oh.”

  They remained silent for a while and she was able to calm down. She wasn’t sure if her outburst was driven by teenage human hormones battling against her fae side trying to break through, or simply from the thought of being in another metaphorically locked tower just with a different view for three months.

  “I feel like a chunk of carbon, being forced into becoming a diamond ring sometimes.”

  “Sorry? I’m not following that one.”

  “Like in the old movies I’ve seen, where people ogle the stone, window shopping I think they called it. Humans are funny, they take their hardest naturally occurring substance, strong, unbreakable, and put it in a delicate setting only to sit it in a jewelry display case like some fragile object that’s not capable of cutting through steel, that’s not meant to be a weapon.” She shrugged. “Something like that.”

  “I can see that about you.” He stared into her reflection’s eyes. “People underestimate how strong you are. Don’t they?”

  She nodded, hoping he wasn’t just referring to her physical strength.

  “Okay, this isn’t my greatest on-the-fly analogy and I can’t believe I’m saying this about Conor,” he spat out the name and pinched the bridge of his nose. “But aren’t you treating him kind of like he’s a shiny object too? I mean, you barely saw the guy and you’re following him up here? Y
ou don’t even know what he’s like.” The last part sounded like a warning.

  “I, uh. How else am I supposed to meet new people? Castle tower, remember?”

  “True. I mean what are the odds of stumbling into someone that intrigues you, that challenges you? Someone that instantly feels like they’re an old friend, where you’re comfortable in the long silences and exhilarated by the impassioned conversations? You’ve got to take a chance, right?”

  “Right.” She got the feeling they were saying the same thing but talking about two entirely different people.

  He chuckled to himself. “Anyway. Feel a little better?”

  “A little, yeah.” She thought about all she’d blurted out. “Sorry about all that.”

  “What, your truth? Well, you can be sorry for the crawled-out-of-the-dregs comment, because ouch.” He drew out the last word for dramatic purposes, making it apparent her snide remark hadn’t really stung his self-esteem. “It was more of a dreary damp pathetic little hovel if you must know.” He nudged her elbow. “But you have every right to your anger. Besides, I like your feisty side. You’re a fighter. I see that. It suits you better than that fake meek nonsense you had going on around the other guys, Mira.”

  A surge of warmth crashed over her entire body. She had to admit, she liked the way her name sounded on his lips too.

  “Anyway, I’ll let you be.” He placed his palms flat on the bar and stood up. “You have a real live coffee date to look forward to if you want it. Regardless of how badly it happened, it did happen. And I’m supposed to be your shadow on the wall, remember? So,” he paused before vanishing as if he didn’t want to leave. “Just...I’ll make you a deal. Don’t fall for Conor’s standard line of B.S., be sure he’s being authentic, you deserve that much. And I promise to never call you Princess again.” He looked sad for a moment, as though he was losing something. “You aren’t the type of girl that needs a guy’s praise to feel validated are you?” Sawyer taunted, possibly wanting to draw the focus away from his feelings. “I mean he was laying it on pretty thick.” He argued.

  “I’m not. I won’t.” Mira rebuked. “But giving someone a compliment could just mean they’re a nice person, you know? You should try it sometime!”

  “Again with the ‘I should try it sometime.’ See, that starts to sound like you need a guy’s validation.”

  “Oof!” Mira huffed.

  “That or you obviously haven’t been paying attention.”

  What?! Did he give me a compliment? She felt flustered around Sawyer and her thoughts were running rampant in every direction. “Wait. You said promise. Did you just attempt to make a deal with a fae?”

  “You’re only half-fae. I’d be willing to take my chances, betting I could lie, cheat, or beg my way out of it somehow,” he said smugly. “If I wanted to.”

  “Oh, I’d definitely make you beg.” Oh my gosh, did I just say that out loud?!

  He bent down and leaned in close. “Is that a promise then, Princess?”

  His warm breath tickled her ear and rendered her speechless.

  Sawyer didn’t wait for her response and took his leave. “Until tomorrow, Mira Etain-Tice.” She could hear the smile on his face as he walked away.

  Mira went to take a step forward and almost tripped over her suitcase. “Um, did you forget something?” She teased, yelling after him.

  “Nope. You’re a big girl and the brawn of this little operation, remember?”

  “Fine. Good riddance forever,” her threat was empty, but she decided to have a little fun with it. “Sawyer Dean!”

  “Bright and early.” His echoing voice seemed amused.

  Until tomorrow, she thought, never knowing an impassioned conversation could be so enjoyable. Anticipation fluttered against her skin like hundreds of butterflies’ wings.

  2

  Silver Spoons

  The dream of soaring through the skies of the Horsemen realm on her fiery white wings had been amazing. The rusty pitted excuse of a blade she had wielded hadn’t been. Neither were the three identical shadows that had hovered over her like massive storm clouds threatening to consume her.

  Waking drenched in a cold sweat was even worse.

  As her unnerving dream started to fade, Mira’s fever remained. It radiated from her skin like the heat from concrete after being scorched by the summer sun all day. Agitated, she glamoured over the intrusion of heat and flipped over onto her side. It didn’t work. Glamorous were mostly outward disguises, not remedies for whatever was ailing her. Angry, she kicked the blankets from her legs.

  Still, the smell of fresh linen warm from the dryer welcomed her to rise. Even with her soaring temperature, Mira had a half-smile on her face before she could open her eyes. Her uncle had created such a beautiful retreat for her, she lingered in bed far too long ignoring her fever.

  Eventually, she opened her eyes. Soft teal walls the color of sea glass greeted her morning. Beautiful warm white shabby chic furniture held her clothes and other belongings, a white leather shag carpet rested on top of light gray hardwood floors, and lacy curtains billowed from a slight breeze coming from the window that changed its view to another of her favorite places every couple of minutes. Even the sound of birds chirping welcomed her to join the day.

  The morning light from the windows, the scenery, and sounds beyond may have been glamoured, but Mordecai designed every detail with her in mind. Not everything was a perfect fae glamour, though. She could smell the freshly painted walls underneath the wafting smell of crisp linens. And the very real plastic butterfly watch she’d lost as a child was sitting on her nightstand. The small pink wings still looked ready to take flight, but the tips were well worn, and the strap was broken in two. It must have finally fallen from her wrist on one of her many sprints around the race track inside Crimson Hollow. She used to love the watch and wore it everywhere for years. Mira remembered her excitement when the tiny digital face came to life and started flashing the day power had returned to the earth realm. It also marked the day her mother had become a Horseman.

  Turning it in her hand, she made a mental note to thank Mordecai for finding her forgotten childhood trinket and making her feel so welcome. With a grumble though, her stomach also reminded her to try and grab something for breakfast before heading to school.

  Crap I’m going to be late! Finally deciding to get up, she dressed in a rush but managed to grab her favored teal color as she plucked a shirt from her stuffed suitcase. She barely ran a brush through her hair and hobbled into jeans before grabbing her butterfly watch and rushing out the door.

  Thankful and somewhat surprised to smell the aromas of a human-style breakfast within the vampire lair, she nearly skipped down the grand marble staircase. Following the smells of sizzling bacon and the sounds of young male voices, she walked toward Crimson Hollow’s formal dining room. Her heart almost skipped when she heard Conor from somewhere in the crowded room. However utter disappointment set in when she walked through the door. The warm mahogany table was bare except for several empty plates and unused silverware. There wasn’t a scrap left to eat. Mira looked at the untouched forks and knives again. The boys must have eaten everything with their bare hands. All that remained that there had indeed been breakfast on the table were tiny biscuit crumbles, a few half-drunk glasses of orange juice, and Mordecai’s full goblet of blood.

  Ew. No thank you. She thought to herself, eyeing the blood. She sighed in discontentment. The largest plate had bacon grease residue she could still smell, but every piece of meat had been devoured. Her mouth watered imagining how piled high with delicious morsels the plate must have been only moments ago.

  Enjoying her leisurely serene morning, she’d missed breakfast entirely. The boys she’d met the day before including Conor seemed to be rushing to finish their business dealings with Mordecai while getting their instructions for the day.

  From the shadows, Sawyer spoke up with a mouthful of bacon and buttery biscuit. “In my defense, I didn’t k
now you ate.” He seemed to be the only one who’d noticed her disheartened reaction to the empty breakfast table.

  “I eat,” Mira answered him with a blank deadpan stare.

  He gulped audibly. “Sorry.”

  Mordecai finally acknowledged her presence and folded his morning paper. “My apologies for these savages, Mira Mine.” He took a sip from his goblet. “I will have a more ample breakfast prepared for tomorrow. It will be a feast.” Under his intense glare, all the boys made themselves scarce except for Sawyer. “I was ill-prepared for such appetites.”

  “It’s ok, Uncle Mordie.” Mira pressed her lips together when Mordecai flicked her a raised eyebrow at her use of his nickname in front of the others. “You don’t have to go to any trouble, really. I usually skip breakfast anyway.” She lied. Quiet early morning breakfast with her parents was her favorite time of day. It was usually the only time they were all together before duty called one or both of them away. Mira sighed quietly. By the looks of it, breakfast at Crimson Hollow was going to be rushed meetings over free-for-all food frenzies.

  “Ah, you found it. Good.” Her uncle eyed the butterfly watch in her hand before opening his newspaper again. “I thought I’d see if you wanted it back before it was discarded.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  “A couple of furniture rearrangements, and poof, there it was.”

  Surprised she missed the redecorating, Mira looked back out into the great hall. “Oh. I thought you were keeping the race track?” There was nothing left of it.

  “Now why would I do that when you were the one who convinced me it was a waste of space?”

  “It’s just--” She hated trying to talk to him when he was preoccupied. His morning paper would hold his attention until his goblet was empty. Having the track erased so suddenly came as a jolt, like a rug being pulled out from under her. His nonchalance made her sad. “Never mind.” She placed her once-beloved butterfly watch on the empty mahogany table. He could do what he wanted with it as well. With a hangry quip, she snapped at the ever-present Sawyer before leaving. “Ready, breakfast boy?”