Bright Wicked 3: Infernal Dark (A Fantasy Romance)

by Everly Frost

  As he falls back, the Frost fae converge on him, pouring their ice over him, extinguishing the flames and covering his skin in glittering frost. They’re screaming at each other to “save the King”!

  Their king.

  Behind them, the Vanem Dragon rises above us into the ripple of my magic, buffeted by the storm. I hear the echo of his roaring as he tries to fight the force around him. A hundred thunderbirds also rise into the air as if they’re being drawn skyward by my exposed power. More running forms appear—Crispin and a group of Dawn fae—while in the distance every other fae and human has dropped to the ground, clinging to each other. The healers converge and block Nathaniel from view. All of them fight the growing storm as they try to save him.

  My left arm presses against the heart that doesn’t want me, but I meant what I told the keepers. I will not be controlled by rules or laws anymore. Not even the laws of nature. I will not fear the vast expanse that I came from, or the heart that was taken from me, or the war between light and dark inside me.

  I accept this broken heart with all of its flaws.

  Closing my eyes and pressing the diamond deep inside my chest, I receive the burning pain that comes with connecting, the icy cold water that once surrounded my submerged heart, the dusty ash that coated my skin from the fire I was born in, and the dancing light that gives me freedom, the glow that makes me shine.

  I am pieces of it all.

  I wait for the next thud, but it is soft, quiet, not fighting me this time. Carefully, I slide my hand away from my chest as the sky above me clears, the thunderbirds lower, and the wind dies.

  A final burst of power glitters around my fingertips, compelling me to remove my hand as my chest seals and my silver blood stops flowing.

  I draw to my feet, sensing my power settle inside me, calming with the new beat of my full heart. I inhale. Real breaths. My footing is certain as I step toward the fae converged around Nathaniel.

  They part to let me through.

  He lies with his burned arm outstretched while Crispin and the other Dawn fae work over his right side.

  I kneel in the gap on his left.

  Nathaniel opens his eyes, still dark, still piercing, but lighter in my glow. Despite the pain the burns must be causing him, the tension leaves his shoulders when he sees me.

  He takes my outstretched hand without speaking, closing his eyes as I curl over him and press my cheek to his. His strength, his body, and his heart anchor me.

  We have walked our path and now the future opens up ahead of us. It won’t be easy. The history between the fae and humans can’t be erased in a single battle, but together, we’ll try.

  The keeper of old magic asked me what I am.

  I finally know.

  I am enough.

  Epilogue – Three Months Later

  A soft breeze brushes my face as I step carefully through the silver flowers carpeting the floor of the forest, the place we used to call the Misty Gallows.

  High above me, lush tree branches stretch across the sky, swaying gently, their bright emerald leaves whispering as they swish against each other.

  The dawn’s light filters through the branches, soft on my face and arms. It has taken me months to stop counting the minutes and the hours in each day, counting them down until dawn. Even now, I sense every passing moment. Especially the quiet moments when I sense the shifting of all living things beneath and above the ground.

  I bend to scoop up a handful of flowers, the sleeves of my dress pulling up to my elbows. I pause when a silver humblebee rises up from the flower I was reaching for, buzzing as it relocates to another patch of foliage.

  The air is peaceful, disturbed only by the occasional fluttering of a butterfly’s wings. Or maybe it’s a silver moth. It’s hard to tell them apart these days.

  My lips hitch into a smile when the familiar scent of steam and woodfire fills my senses seconds after I detect the distant thudding of hooves.

  Flare bursts into view, black as coal, snorting steam while his stomach glows red with flames. His arrival disturbs the fluttering creature—a butterfly, as it turns out—which follows the bee to the branches of a spreading oak. The trees here are slowly recovering from the dark magic that shrouded them for years. Some of them have transformed completely, but many still retain their misshapen boughs. The one I stand beside is the tree where I first met Nathaniel, its branches reaching to one side, even though it’s no longer fighting whatever force caused it to grow that way.

  I press my hand against its trunk, sensing the spirit inside it, allowing my power to glow through my fingertips, feeding the new life around me. The transformation started the day that Nathaniel became the King—the day I died. Every spark of my power since then has helped the environment heal. Even the burn site has become green again.

  Nathaniel slides from Flare’s back, but, despite his dramatic approach, he seems content to take his time approaching me, casting his gaze from my head to my booted feet. He’s wearing a simple beige shirt, short sleeves hugging his biceps, dark pants covering his legs, but a golden fleece is thrown across one shoulder, tied with a golden chain like the one that was attached to his pelt when we first met. His brown hair is cut short now, sitting close to his head, no longer falling across his eyes.

  My heart kicks in my chest at the heat in his eyes. My whole heart. A real beat that sends a wash of starlight all of the way to my toes.

  The moments we spend together at the beginning and end of each day are some of the few we have to ourselves. I am awake at night and Nathaniel is awake during the day. Given how early it is, he must have woken up and come straight here. The quiet space in the forest is ours alone. It’s not a law, but the fae and humans don’t come here. They call it my garden. Some fae are even afraid of it because of the magic that thrums through every leaf, flower, and especially the bees.

  Nathaniel leans against the nearest tree as he allows Flare to graze in the clearing.

  I hide my smile, bending again to the flower, but another bee stops me. They like visiting the flowers each morning. They don’t like me disturbing them.

  “Curse the stars,” I whisper, attempting to reach around the creature—which doesn’t budge—before I rise and plant my hands on my hips in defeat.

  Nathaniel grins at me. “I can help you,” he says, an echo of his offer to help when we first met and I was trying to carry Evander to his thunderbird.

  I smile. “I want to give one to Talsa and Evander as a Spring Pairing gift tonight. So they can grow them around their home in the Grove.”

  The silver flowers are unique to this forest, a result of my explosive power on the night of the battle. The silver vines trail between the trees and beyond the forest to cover the flower fields. They quietly twine over the graves that rest there. Every human, hunter, and fae who died in the battle is buried at the western end of the field with a stone to mark their final resting places. Even Imatra and Cyrian. It was Nathaniel’s first act as King to treat all of the dead equally.

  Nathaniel prowls toward me, apparently abandoning his intention to give me space—or to help me—but I don’t mind at all. Every moment we snatch together is precious.

  With a smile on my lips, I wait for him to reach me.

  His arms slide around me, his golden fleece soft against my skin as he draws it around my shoulders and wraps me inside it with him.

  It’s still cold in the mornings, but I never notice until I feel the contrast of his warmth. That’s when I remember my human side—the parts of Nathaniel that my heart stole from him. When he first gave me back the sliver of my heart that he carried for all of those years, I thought he was the only one to benefit from my heart. But my encounter with the keepers made me realize how much light magic I control because of Nathaniel. Also how human my heart is.

  A month after the battle, I sought out the Vanem Dragon to ask him what would have happened if Nathaniel had died instead of me. The dragon told me that there was nothing already written in
the Law of Champions to govern that situation because Imatra had no living family and no clear heir. I would have had to choose the outcome and write that part of the Law myself. The idea horrified me—that I could dictate someone’s life, maybe even their death. Nathaniel once told me that pulling a single thread of the old law could cause the whole web to collapse. As far as I’m concerned, creating a new thread is just as dangerous.

  I shake off the memories as I enjoy Nathaniel’s warmth.

  His dark eyes were always shadowed, but now my light reveals every inky fleck in his irises.

  I reach up to plant a kiss on his lips, inhaling his scent. Comforting. Irritating because I want more of it.

  “How was your night?” he asks, capturing me so that his lips brush mine. He asks me the same question every morning. He wants to know how I am, but I focus on what’s happened first.

  “Peaceful,” I murmur. “Talsa’s gown is ready for tonight. The feast is going to be huge. No intrigues to report. Oh! Evander gave me a message for you.”

  “Hmm?” Nathaniel casts me a questioning look, but the kisses he plants on my cheek and chin tell me he’s more interested in me.

  “He says it’s time for you to choose a thunderbird.”

  Nathaniel pauses.

  I grin as his startled gaze meets mine.

  Nathaniel has been riding Flare within Fell country—which we now call New Bright—but flying Treble when he needs to travel long distances, including within Bright itself. He asked me about choosing his own bird, but it was a cautious idea.

  “Do the other fae support Evander’s suggestion?” Nathaniel asks. His second act as the King was to form an advisory council made up of elected representatives from each fae class plus an equal number of elected human representatives. He made it very clear that their role is advisory only—he doesn’t always follow their suggestions—but he treads very carefully when it comes to fae traditions and beliefs.

  “They support it.”

  “Even the Solstice fae?”

  “Especially the Solstice fae,” I say. “They value strength, Nathaniel. Imatra manipulated and dominated them. You are forthright, clear about your expectations, and you don’t play favorites.” My smile grows. “You could also kill all of them—even without the light. They respect that.”

  I rest my chin against his chest as I look up at him.

  He casts me the look of a warrior king. “I’ll climb the peaks tomorrow.”

  “Good,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to the underside of his chin.

  He groans, his arms tightening around me and his voice lowering like a growling wolf. “I missed you in our bed this morning.”

  I give him a sultry smile. “There’s plenty of soft ground here.”

  He casts a glance askew at the flower I was trying to pick and the congregation of bees hovering around it. “If we want bee stings in nasty places.”

  I laugh, tugging myself out of his arms, but I catch hold of his hand. His right palm still carries the burn marks from my death, the shape of my heart imprinted forever on his hand.

  “How about over here, then?” I wrap my fingers around his and draw him toward the nearest tree—and then around it. On the other side, the canopy above us descends like the fronds of whisper willows, creating a much smaller, shadowed clearing that is fully carpeted across the bottom with gleaming silver flowers. Despite the dawn, it could be twilight in this enclosed space.

  Nathaniel pauses in the opening, his voice hushed. “When did you do this?”

  “In between taking messages for you from Evander and having a long conversation with your sister—”

  “Christiana?”

  “Unless you have another sister, yes.”

  He gives me a quizzical look. He knows I’m deflecting, but what Christiana and I spoke about is between us.

  Abandoning his questions, Nathaniel draws me into his arms, the heat in his eyes increasing. “Here is perfect.”

  His lips nudge mine briefly before trailing across my jaw and down my neck, exploring the curve at the top of my breasts.

  An hour later, even the thick canopy above us can’t stop the increasing brightness of the sun. All of New Bright will wake up soon and there’s no escaping all of the responsibilities Nathaniel has now. I watch over his kingdom at night, but the hardest work is done during the day and also at twilight when both the Sunstream and Eventide fae are awake.

  Even so, I pull Nathaniel’s fleece over both of us as we lie on the bed of flowers, tugging the wool up over our heads to block out the growing light. My glow builds, casting across Nathaniel’s broad shoulders and muscled arms. My magic still pulses through him from the time he carried my heart. In time, it might fade, but I don’t think so. Every time I touch him, I give him a little more of my light—and at the same time, he gives me a little of his light too.

  “You’re everything to me,” he murmurs, dropping kisses on my forehead, cheeks, and lips.

  “You have my heart,” I whisper back. “Now and always.”

  By the time we’re dressed and we emerge from the enclosure, the sun has risen fully and my glow is hidden in the golden daylight. I’m ready to sleep—but first I’ll go with Nathaniel to hear the morning reports. He whistles to Flare, who canters between the trees toward us.

  Flare carries us beyond the clearing and along the edge of the forest toward our new home. Well, one of our new homes.

  This one on the border is still under construction, being built by both the humans and the fae working together. It’s a simple design that melds with the forest. Nathaniel and I divide our time between the Fell castle, the fae palace, and here—the place I feel most at home.

  On our left as we approach, training grounds have been constructed for Nathaniel’s new army. Hagan is already out there, standing at the head of a hundred new trainees—both fae and human. Emily and the other teens are among them. Serena stands at Hagan’s side. They are relentless trainers, but not a single trainee has quit so far. Instead, the group is growing, which tells me Hagan and Serena must be doing something right.

  Nathaniel and I thought Christiana might want to be involved in the new army, but she chose a different calling—one that is much truer to her heart.

  We stop at the edge of the courtyard that has been constructed at the front of the new castle. Two thrones sit side by side on a smooth stone slab embedded in the earth in the center of the clearing. The back of one throne is carved with Nathaniel’s family name. The other is carved with a symbol of a star, a longer line at the bottom of five shorter ones. It’s the symbol I chose for myself.

  A group of humans and fae wait around the throne at a respectful distance, but Christiana stands closer to the front. Her eyes look blurry from lack of sleep. She came to see me after I got back from Bright after midnight last night. She was the first human—or fae, for that matter—to dare set foot in my forest, but she needed my help and she wasn’t afraid to ask for it. She and I have walked a very jagged road to understanding each other, but we’ve both worked hard to build trust between us.

  Gehrig, the Springtime fae who is a good friend of my father’s, stands directly behind Christiana with other Springtime and Harvest fae, along with Esther. She also stepped away from training others to fight. Instead, she took it upon herself to clean up the human castle, including the White Walls, which has been restored to a place of quiet contemplation.

  Despite her sleeplessness, Christiana wears a smile. She steps away from the others to give her brother a hug, and then me too. The open displays of genuine affection still make some of the fae shuffle, but they’re slowly getting used to human culture.

  “We’ve had a breakthrough,” Christiana says, stepping to the side to allow Gehrig to move forward.

  While Nathaniel and I take up position in front of the thrones, Gehrig hands Nathaniel a sheaf of wheat he was holding. For years, the humans have struggled to grow crops because of the dark magic in the soil. Even with my help, it’s been impossible
to dispel all of the damage done to the environment. But the bundle of wheat Gehrig gives Nathaniel is a healthy golden color.

  Christiana launches into an explanation, the passion in her voice telling me how much it means to her to grow food for her people again. “Gehrig discovered that if we burn off the old wheat, instead of cutting it, and then replant with seeds from fae crops, the soil revives. This wheat was cut this morning from a test site in the western fields near the old Bitter Patch.”

  Behind Christiana, the fae and humans lean forward, waiting on Nathaniel’s verdict as he studies the wheat.

  “This is excellent progress,” he says.

  Everyone breaks into smiles.

  “How soon can you burn and replant the fields throughout New Bright?” Nathaniel asks, handing the bundle of wheat back to Gehrig.

  “Right away,” he says with a respectful bow. “We’ll ask the Frost fae to help us control the winds so we can contain the burn and make sure nothing gets out of hand. We should have the replanting finished before summer ends. We can use winter seeds so that the crops grow even if frosts settle.”

  Nathaniel nods. “Thank you, all of you. Let me know if you encounter any problems. We’ll solve them together.”

  The group bows and heads away, but Christiana remains behind, quietly moving to the side of the courtyard to stand under the shade of a tree. She can see the training ground from there and her focus shifts to Hagan. She has something she needs to do this morning, but she’ll wait until Nathaniel has met with the other people waiting in the courtyard.

  At the front of the line is the little human girl Mathilda saved during the battle. The girl turns four years old this week. She clings to the hand of a female Dusk fae—Mia’s sister. I didn’t see Mia fall during the battle, but I’ve visited her grave many times. She wasn’t my friend while I was Imatra’s champion, but she fought for me in the end.

  The little girl stares up at Nathaniel, her eyes wide. He bends and says something to her that’s too quiet for me to hear before he carefully produces a silver flower—one I didn’t see him pick when we were in the forest. He tucks it into her hair and picks her up, still speaking with her. She drops her head onto his shoulder, listening and sometimes nodding, her little face very serious before he places her back on the ground.