by Everly Frost
Then his hand sweeps up my neck in his first rapid movement to tangle in my hair and rest beneath my ear, triggering shivers that run to my toes.
In the mirror, my eyes light up.
The dull forest green disappears. Glowing emerald color splashes through my eyes. My cheeks blush pink as if the sun has kissed me. My lips fill with healthy color, parting in shock.
The woman glowing at me in the mirror is alive, full of strength.
Who is that person?
She has never been me.
I try to breathe, near panic as Nathaniel carefully slides his hand away from my neck. As he moves away, the color fades from my cheeks, the light dies in my eyes, and my lips press together. I feel like I’ve lost something and I want it back.
“No.” I grab his hand and press his palm to my cheek, watching the lights dance across my face again. The warmth in his hand is like stepping into a dark expanse, but it’s not empty. It’s perfect and whole.
I try to breathe. “Is this what you saw when you took off my mask this morning?”
This morning, he told me that my beauty is lethal. I didn’t know what he was talking about. That woman in the mirror—she is certainly something. Lethal? Beautiful? Maybe. Alive. Definitely.
Possibly even… powerful.
More powerful than I ever looked before.
“Why?” I ask, turning my wide eyes to him. “What is this?”
I grip his hand to my cheek, even though he’s poised beside me as if he’s on the brink of pulling away. His gaze travels from my face all the way down to my boots. I’m still dressed in my battle clothing, which is to say that I’m not wearing much at all. My feet are more fully covered than any other part of my body.
“I thought maybe you knew, but now I see that you don’t.” He very firmly pulls his hand away, leaving me to return to the dull skin that I’m used to living in.
I close my eyes and turn away from who I really am.
I should be shocked that I want his touch back, but I miss that me. I want her back. I want to feel the way she feels… whole.
“We need to rest now.” Nathaniel clears his throat and backs away from me. “I’ll use the bathroom after you’re done. If I stand against the back wall around the corner, I can’t see in.”
I feel empty as I say, “Do you think that will work?”
He growls as he rapidly turns and strides away as if he really needs to be somewhere else. “It had better or I won’t be responsible…”
He disappears around the corner.
“Damn!” He jolts back into view, rubbing his forehead. A string of curse words flies from his mouth before he takes a deep breath. “Of all the…” Another string of curse words flies at the invisible barrier he must have stepped into.
His cursing finally stops.
He takes a deep breath, turns to face me, and says, “So it looks like we can’t allow a solid object to block our view of each other. Which means neither of us gets any privacy.”
I guess not.
I could try to cover up with a towel. Maybe even try to wash with a cloth slung around me, but it seems a bit pointless.
It’s the curse of the Law of the Champions.
“Eat, sleep, and breathe,” I say. “We are to be stripped bare in front of each other. All of our flaws and weaknesses revealed.”
Casting a regretful glance at the mirror and the me I can’t be without his touch, I turn my back on him, slip off my boots, and unwind the strapping from around my chest.
My fingertips rest for a moment on the scar at the top of my left breast—a small crescent shape I’ve had for my whole remembered life. It reminds me of the crisscross of scars across Nathaniel’s shoulder blades, but now is not the time to ask him about them.
I shimmy out of my shorts and cross to the shower, turning it on and stepping under the steady flow. Closing my eyes, I yank the water pressure up to its fullest so it crashes around me, splashing across my head and shoulders.
Now at last, the glittery room around me fades into nothing. The wash of water is like a downpour of rain that blocks it all out. Sand and grit rinse from my hair and gather on the bottom of the shower to scratch my toes. A crimson line flows from my wounded bicep down my arm and turns the water weakly red.
I wish I could stay here forever, but I force myself to reach for the faucet to turn the shower off. Quickly squeezing the water from my hair, I cross one arm across my breasts—as if I haven’t already given Nathaniel an eyeful—and grab a towel from beside the shower to wrap it around myself.
When I look up, I find Nathaniel leaning with his back against the left side of the doorway, his gaze firmly fixed on the upper door frame.
I guess he’s not ready for all of my flaws.
As I grab a second towel for my hair, he asks, “How did you get that scar?”
I pause. It’s a small scar. The kind he wouldn’t see if he hadn’t looked.
“How did you get yours?” I challenge.
He hunches his right shoulder forward. “I asked a witch to make the cuts—one for every person I’ve lost. I went back to her many times.”
I hadn’t expected him to answer me, let alone so fully. “You’ve lost a lot of people.”
He shrugs. “It was her idea to turn the scars into a lattice. She said I was making a prison of death for myself, so I may as well wear the bars in plain sight. She didn’t exactly approve of the path I chose for myself.”
“What path is that?”
When he doesn’t answer, I try a different question. “Is she the one who created the spells on your hands?”
“She is.”
“Do you have many witches in Fell country?”
“Only one. She’s as powerful as your Queen. But she lives in darkness instead of light.” Without pause, he asks me again, “How did you get your scar?”
I shiver. His honesty demands honesty in return, but my scar is another big unknown. Droplets of water gather as my hair continues to drip across my shoulders, the second towel feeling heavy in my hands.
“I don’t know,” I say. “The Queen said it must have been from flying debris during the explosion. I guess I’m lucky to be alive since it could have cut through my heart, not just my skin.”
He nods and crosses to the pile of towels beside the sink, getting a new one. “Here,” he says. “Let me.”
He drapes the towel across my head, lining it up with my forehead before twisting it gently around my hair and stepping back again.
I scowl at him before I pat the perfectly-positioned neat twist. “I can dry my own hair.”
“I know you can,” he says, giving me a faint smile that quickly fades away. “But… I needed to do that for someone who isn’t sick.”
I’m confused by the emotion in his voice and what is clearly an important gesture for him.
Clearing his throat, he points to the door where he was leaning before. “The mirror doesn’t help. But you can focus upward if you wish.”
Of course. No matter which direction I face, I’ll either see Nathaniel or his reflection.
Somehow I don’t think he’ll have any flaws.
I focus on the wooden door frame as hard as I can, aware of his movements, finding my gaze lowering when the water turns on.
No flaws at all. Every muscle is in exactly the right place. The water flows down his perfect back and thighs. Even his shoulder scars look like they belong.
The rushing water is a soft lull and I realize how bone-deep tired I am. It’s already been a long day. I allow my eyelids to lower. Only for a second.
“Aura.”
I jolt upright.
Nathaniel stands beside me with a towel slung low around his hips.
My heart thuds too loudly in my chest. How could I fall asleep like that? How did I fall asleep when I normally can’t sleep in cluttered spaces? I should have stayed awake and on my guard. I definitely don’t like being taken unawares.
Nathaniel gives me a smile as if he�
�s trying not to laugh. “Should I be offended that you fell asleep when I took off my clothes?”
Is he… teasing me?
My cheeks burn as his laughing gaze dances across my face.
I try to swallow my embarrassment. “There are clothes in the cupboard that should fit you. Assuming you want them.”
I move out of the way so he can leave the bathroom to rummage around inside the closet. The Queen keeps clothing for herself and her male visitors in this closet. The men’s clothing is in random sizes but I’m hoping Nathaniel will find something wearable. He discards the less-than-practical clothing into the bottom of the cupboard before pulling out a soft white shirt and navy blue shorts. I avert my eyes again as he drops the towel to pull them on.
Then he gives me a quizzical look. “What about you?”
I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “I don’t like sleeping in clothes.” Can’t sleep in clothes. But I don’t tell him that. Sheets are as much as I can stand against my skin while I sink into cold oblivion.
He arches an eyebrow at me, but I hold my head high.
“Couch,” I say, pointing as I stride past it.
When I glance back at him, he’s grinning at me as if he doesn’t mind me bossing him around. I’m not really sure what to make of this lighter side of him. He seems to have left his serious side in the bathroom with his clothes.
I plant my hands on my hips at him and demand an answer. “What?”
His smile softens. “You fell asleep while I stood five paces away from you. You wouldn’t do that if you didn’t trust me. Even if just a little.”
“And that makes you happy?”
“Very.”
I swallow hard. In the fae world, trust is barely existent. Maybe between married couples, but other than that, even a lover is likely to maneuver around you for some personal gain. It’s accepted and expected, so nobody’s feelings get hurt. Until couples are paired together, love is a commodity. So is trust.
But apparently not to Nathaniel.
“You tried to stop me,” I whisper. “This morning when I invoked the Law, you told me to stop.”
His smile fades. His dark eyes are serious again.
He gives me a single nod.
I ask my question carefully because I need the answer. “If you didn’t come here to invoke the Law, why did you fight me this morning?”
He takes a deep breath. Inhales. Exhales. He’s quiet for so long that the sound of his breathing is the only answer I get.
I persist. “You were prepared. You had the spells ready on your hands. What was your real plan?”
His smile is long gone now. “I told you this morning that there are some things I can’t tell you, but I will always tell you the truth.” He takes a small step back. The distance between us suddenly feels unsurmountable. “I’ll give you answers tomorrow morning.”
“Why not tonight?”
“Because you don’t trust me that much yet.”
“Can a night really make a difference?” I ask.
He smiles at me. It softens the determined edge in his expression, his dark eyes, the strands of wet hair falling across his face, the droplets of water on his shoulders soaking into his shirt.
Maybe. Just maybe it can.
I force myself to turn away. I crawl onto the bed before I lower the sheer curtains on every side and slide under the sheets. Once there, I discard the towel from around my body and the other from around my head, dropping both outside of the curtains.
Too late, I realize that I didn’t close the shutters over the windows, but Nathaniel’s silhouette moves beyond the curtains, drawing the blinds closed and dropping us into darkness.
I wait a moment to find out if the way the Law works will stop us from sleeping separately, but I guess the curtain between us is sheer enough not to break the rules since I can make out his shape on the couch.
It’s not as dark as I need it to be—sunlight creeps through the cracks, far too bright. With a groan, I grab a pillow and pull it over my head. I sense Nathaniel pause before I hear the soft sounds of couch cushions being rearranged.
I didn’t think it would be possible, but I’m so tired that I’m soon asleep and the nightmare I’m in fades into oblivion.
The moon’s rising wakes me as it always does. I sense her light ascend high in the sky, even though I can’t see her. In the space between awake and asleep, I’m surrounded by a dark oblivion that I can’t quite touch, the cold seep of nothingness that I crave in the daytime.
Then my starlight power trickles through me, icy and crisp, calling me to shine… and wake up.
My eyes open to the gentle sound of a soft inhale. For a second, I’m confused. It was like the night sky was breathing with me, but now I stare upward into the dim darkness and the unfamiliar ceiling, trying to place my location—the wrong bedroom. Wrong sheets. Wrong pillows. The pillow I pulled across my eyes has slipped to the side, but I’m still gripping it.
I remember that Nathaniel sleeps only a few paces away.
I remember that I’m caught in a nightmare and if I stop and think about it for more than two seconds, I’ll end up screaming my lungs out.
I listen for his breathing, wondering if he’s awake yet.
Eat, sleep, breathe.
It feels like breathing will be the easy part. Everything else is hard.
I’m about to slide from the bed when I hear a soft swish. Then an exhale. The sounds are out of time with Nathaniel’s deep breathing.
Fear rakes through me and my instincts scream. A friendly visitor would have knocked, waited for us to wake up—would not be creeping through a dark bedroom.
Is the intruder here for Nathaniel or me?
Any movement will alert them that I’m awake, even a whisper-quiet one. I stare hard into the darkness, making out the female silhouette creeping across the room at the base of my bed. She must be dressed in tight body armor because her silhouette is clean, her hair tucked up.
She passes by the bed and heads for the couch.
I told everyone Nathaniel would sleep there.
She raises her arms above her head and the gathering darkness around her hands tells me she’s carrying a weapon that absorbs light.
I take my last deep breath, but I’m no longer afraid. I’m a twilight fae. I’m at my strongest now at the rising of the moon when the first stars sparkle in the night sky.
Energy spears through me, speeding my movements to an impossible velocity. I slip from the sheets, roll beneath the curtains, and leap with all my strength.
She grunts as I knock into her and force her to the floor. Despite landing hard, she keeps hold of her weapon, jabbing it at me with quick, quiet thrusts. I dodge left and right before I leap off her, flipping and landing in a crouch with one hand planted on the floor.
She hesitates, the dagger gripped in her hand.
At the same time, Nathaniel rises up behind her, a looming shadow.
She spins and jabs the knife at his chest. He darts to the side just in time, but he doesn’t retaliate like I thought he would, bouncing backward on the balls of his feet instead, dodging the blows.
Her attacks are rapid and quiet, but his evasive moves are faster. He’s strong enough to disarm her—easily. He disarmed me this morning.
“Fight back,” I whisper.
But as I look up from the floor I remember… he can’t.
The damn Law. He can’t hurt her or he’ll break the Law and die anyway.
A low hum of anger grows in my throat.
He may not be allowed to hurt her, but I can.
I leap upward again, following her movements in split-second time, and grab her hand as she retracts it. I yank with all my strength, pulling her back so hard that she flips in the air and makes a graceless landing.
The dagger is now mine. What’s more, I’m now standing between her and Nathaniel. Right where I should be.
“You want him, you go through me,” I say.
“Traitor!” she hisses.<
br />
I let the accusation wash off me. I was hoping I’d recognize her voice, but she kept it low. She has to be Calida. Serena warned me that Calida would strike in the shadows.
Slashing at her chest, arms, and neck as she struggles to evade the blows, I drive her toward the window.
She tries to disarm me and fails.
She tries to hit me and fails.
I will make sure she fails at every attempt to hurt Nathaniel.
She backs into the shutters but spins and flings them open, leaping nimbly onto the windowsill just as I thrust the dagger at her ribs. I graze her side, the knife sliding harmlessly across her armor.
Her hand flies out as she falls through the opening.
A blast of sunlight streaks from her palm, searing the space beside me as it cuts across the room.
I struggle to register the sound her power makes. The sickening snarl of flames that burn and consume.
Her black-clad form falls through the air into darkness below.
She’s gone, but the burning scent in the room is now my nightmare.
Chapter 14
Nathaniel slides to the floor, his back to the wall beside the door as I run to him.
His clothing is on fire. I can’t imagine what the flames are doing to his skin. I snatch up the woolen blanket from the bed as I race toward him, throwing the blanket across his burning shoulder and pressing it to extinguish the flames.
Panic fills my chest, squeezing my lungs. More panic than I thought I would feel for him, but I can’t second-guess my feelings right now.
Kneeling beside his legs, I carefully peel back the blanket to check the damage. His right sleeve has burned away, the material still glowing. I swallow a scream at the mess of his shoulder and collarbone on his right side.
“Nathaniel!”
He sways forward and drops against me as I struggle to grab his waist and support his head without touching the wounds. His skin lights up where we touch, bright enough that I can see that the blood has drained from his face.
He’s barely conscious.
“Damn,” he whispers, his eyes closed, his head dropping against my shoulder. “That hurts.”
