Feral Blood (Bound to the Fae Book 2)

by Eva Chase

  “These are amazing,” I say.

  Harper sets down her scissors and breezes over to join me. “You should try one on! I don’t get many willing models around here—the only ones who think dressing up is fun would probably end up spilling wine all over them. Here, I think this would fit you.”

  After giving me a glance up and down, she plucks a gown with panels of alternating grass- and spruce-green that make it look like a landscape of distant treetops, caught here and there by golden glints of embroidery like sunlight. “And it’ll go perfectly with your eyes.”

  My heart stutters at the thought of putting on something this beautiful—and valuable. But it’s not as if I have anything around that I could spill on it, and Harper only looks eager at the prospect.

  “Are you sure?” I ask anyway.

  She gives me a little shove toward a curtained area in the corner that can serve as a changing room. “Go on, go on. It’ll help me see if there are any little flaws I missed. It’s hard to tell for sure on the dummy or myself.”

  Well, if it’ll help her … I bundle the delicate fabric in my arms and duck behind the curtain. I’m so careful ensuring I don’t rip it that it takes me a few minutes to ease the dress onto me and adjust it against my chest and hips, especially wary of the fluttery sleeves against the ridges of scar on my shoulder. The glamour stops Harper from seeing them, but it won’t stop the fabric from catching on them.

  “Are you planning on making a business selling these or something like that?” I ask as I settle the fabric against my skin.

  “That’s the gist of it.” Harper pauses, and for a moment there’s nothing but the hiss of her shears through the spider-weave. Her next words tumble out in a rush. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful to Sylas and everything he’s done for us here. I know how hard he’s worked to keep the pack safe and give us a good home in spite of everything. But—I never got to live anywhere other than here. And here is kind of… boring. None of the other packs want to visit us. Heart knows they never invite us to visit them. I want to see more, do more.”

  The longing in her voice resonates with something deep inside me. My position in the world of the fae is too precarious right now for me to want any more excitement than I’ve already got, but I remember the pangs I felt as a kid before, thinking of all the incredible cities and landscapes I hadn’t gotten a chance to experience, pasting printed-out photographs into my travel scrapbook as if having a concrete representation of those dreams would help make them real.

  At that time, I was way too young to travel on my own anyway. I might have made those dreams come true if Aerik hadn’t torn my life apart. Harper has been stuck in the same place for ages longer than I’ve even been alive. I don’t think Sylas would blame her for her restlessness.

  “And the dresses will help you get out more?” I say.

  “I hope so. The ladies of the more prestigious domains—they’re all having balls and banquets and things like that. Wanting to show off that they’ve got clothes nicer than anyone else. At least, that’s what I’ve heard from how the older folks tell it.” She gives a little laugh. “If they’re right, then I figure the offer of a dress could be my ticket into getting a warm welcome other places, if it’s spectacular enough.”

  “They are pretty spectacular.” I edge out from behind the curtain, still checking that I’m not about to snag one of the panels anywhere. The fabric shifts with my steps like the softest of breaths rippling over my limbs. I can’t tell how it looks on me, but when I glance up at Harper, she has her hands clasped over her chest, her eyes shining.

  “It’s even better than I pictured. Oh, so lovely. Hmm, but I think a couple of the bits here need a few extra stitches.”

  She dives in with needle and gold thread at the ready, sewing a portion by my waist. I keep my arms raised so I don’t bump her head. “It feels nice—wearing it,” I say. “I wouldn’t have expected clothes this pretty to be comfortable.”

  “That’s the best thing about spider-weave. It holds its shape so well but stays so soft at the same time.” She leans back, cocks her head, and pinches another spot closer to the back. “Almost perfect. Do you think…” She glances up at me. “Do you think humans would like this sort of thing too? I mean, most of them. I’m glad that you do.”

  I don’t have much sense of adult fashion tastes, especially in the current decade, but I can’t tell her that. What I do know: “I’m sure there’d be some people who’d adore dresses like these just because they’re so unique. We don’t have spider-weave or whatever back in my world. And anyone would be able to tell these are gorgeous.”

  “Oh, good.” She giggles again, a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. “I’ve thought about forgetting all the snobby Seelie who live closer to the Heart and going in the other direction, to see the mortal world… But I know a lot less about how to impress them. Maybe, if you ever take a trip back there, I could come with you and you could teach me a few things?”

  She says that last bit so bashfully that any lingering shyness in me falls away. That’s why she’s been so friendly—because she’s honestly intrigued by all the things I’ve experienced that she hasn’t, as mundane as my former home feels to me compared to this place.

  The thought of returning, of having to navigate everything that’s changed alone, unnerved me before. It might not be so bad with an enthusiastic tourist along for the ride, turning it into an adventure.

  “I don’t know when I’d be going there or if I will at all,” I say. “But if I do, I don’t see why I couldn’t show you around. The place I lived wasn’t all that amazing, though.”

  “It’ll all be new to me! And very different from here. But, no pressure, no pressure. You just got here. You should enjoy yourself. I’m sure it’s much more interesting when you’re not used to it.”

  Interesting is definitely a word for it. My mouth twitches with a bittersweet smile—and then I freeze as an unexpected but familiar figure ambles through the doorway.

  Whitt’s stride is casual, but I’ve been around him enough by now to see the tension in his jaw. He halts at the sight of me, blinking with a slight widening of his eyes that makes my cheeks heat. That startled—and maybe even appreciative?—expression vanishes a second later, his gaze snapping down not to check out any provocative part of me but to my feet, just barely visible beneath the hem of the dress.

  Is he worried that Harper might have noticed the brace beneath the illusion while she’s been standing so close? Should I have been worried about it? She hasn’t touched my feet or ankles. At Whitt’s entrance, she’s leapt to her feet and dipped her head.

  Before I can panic over the possibility that I’ve blown my cover, Whitt flicks his hand toward us. “Talia, we have need of you in the keep. Finish up whatever exactly you’re doing here, and come speak to Sylas as soon as you’re able.”

  He strides out as quickly as he arrived. Harper stares after him and then glances at me. “What do you think that was about?”

  “I don’t know.” That’s true, but I have more of an inkling of the various possibilities than she would, since she has no idea that I’m anything more than August’s lover. I grip the skirt of the dress. “I guess I’d better get this off and go find out as quickly as possible.”

  When I emerge from behind the curtain in my regular clothes and offer the green gown to Harper, she shakes her head. “You should keep it,” she says with a sly little smile. “I’ve got plenty. Surprise August with it. I’ll think of it as a gift to both of you.”

  My face outright burns then. I stumble over my words. “Are you sure? It’s so lovely—I wouldn’t have asked—”

  “You didn’t ask. I probably owe you at this point for all my questions. Go on, before our lord or his cadre come to round you up again.”

  I hustle back to the keep with the dress clutched to my chest. The thought of welcoming August home in this treasure of a gown is giddying enough to push back my apprehension until I’ve tucked the garment int
o my bedroom wardrobe and am heading down the hall to Sylas’s study. What could have made not just him but also Whitt concerned enough to call me back from my visit with Harper?

  Probably hearing my footsteps approaching, Sylas opens the study door before I’ve quite reached it and ushers me in. Whitt is standing to one side of the desk, his posture unusually tense. Knowing that whatever this is about is enough to rattle even his careless air, my skin prickles with twice as much uneasiness as before.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, glancing between them as Sylas crouches down by my legs. He inspects my foot and its brace like Whitt did.

  “I agree, the glamour appears to be holding well,” the fae lord says to Whitt, and moves to his chair, focusing his attention on me. “Whitt has made a small but disconcerting observation this afternoon.”

  The other man’s mouth twists. “That’s one way of putting it. I’ve personally been conducting an extra patrol since Aerik’s visit. It hasn’t turned up anything before, but today I caught a whiff of magic along the southeast border of our domain that had a distinctive scent to it. I’d be willing to place a sizeable bet that Cole cast whatever spell left that trace—and within the past day.”

  A shiver I can’t suppress runs through my body. “He’s still sneaking around here?”

  “It appears that way,” Sylas says. “It could be that Aerik simply sent him to quickly check up on us once the dust of the visit had settled, and since there wouldn’t have been anything shocking for him to notice then either, that’s the last we’ll hear of them.”

  Whitt makes an even sourer face. “Or he could be making a continuing habit out of it.”

  “None of which matters as long as he sees nothing to raise the suspicions we hoped we’d put to rest.” Sylas offers me a small, tight smile. “They can’t know you’re their missing prisoner.”

  I rub my arms, chilled despite the summer warmth in the air. “But you expected them to leave us alone after that dinner. They mustn’t be convinced after all.” What is it going to take for those monsters to give me some peace?

  “Unfortunately, that’s the only conclusion I can draw, although we can still hope it was only a brief and temporary re-flaring of their interest.”

  “I’ll increase my patrols even more,” Whitt says. “And tell the sentries to attack any unknown fae in our grounds matching Aerik or his cadre-chosen’s descriptions without hesitation. If we can catch them intruding, we’ll have the high ground.”

  “Or perhaps you’ll find that there are no further intrusions.” Sylas sighs. “But if there are—it’s poor timing with August having just left.”

  A jolt I didn’t anticipate rattles my nerves. “You’re not going to call him back, are you? He’ll have only just gotten to the border!”

  Sylas’s eyebrows rise at my vehemence. “Wouldn’t you rather he was here? If Aerik escalated to an actual attack, we’d do everything possible to defend you, but our pack against his… As much as I hate to admit it, it’d be a difficult victory even with August alongside us.”

  Which means if I asked Sylas to call him back… I could simply be summoning him to be slaughtered.

  Flashes of memory waver up—the searing pain in my shoulder, the branches seeming to wheel over my head, my brother’s choked off wail. My voice tearing up my throat with a sob. Mom! Dad! Help! The thudding of their footsteps, snarls and rustling of monstrous furry bodies spinning around—

  My stomach lurches. I hug myself, shoving those fragments of the past away with all the force I can manage. Focusing on the solid wood of the floor beneath my feet. On my arms pressed tight to my chest. The images recede, but the nausea that came with them remains.

  “Talia?” Sylas says gently.

  I shake myself and look up at him. The resolve that prompted my protest only grips me harder, for so many reasons, at least some of which I can find it in me to say out loud. “No. He went to oversee the war against the Unseelie for good reasons. I—I don’t want you jeopardizing that over some small risk to me. It is a small risk, right? That Aerik would launch some kind of assault on your domain out of the blue?”

  I’ve already inadvertently contributed to the villain’s increase in prestige. No way am I going to be the reason Sylas and his pack lose their chance at restoring their proper place in their society.

  Whitt eyes me, a bemused expression playing across his face. I can’t tell how much of that emotion is aimed at me.

  “I’d say it’s quite small,” he says. “But not impossible. Less so if I manage to restrain myself from doing what I’d like to if I get my claws into that mangy prick from his cadre.” He bares his teeth in the fiercest of grins.

  Sylas rests his elbows on his desk. “You’re the one most threatened by his interest in our pack, Talia. I swore you’d be safe here. Regardless of the circumstances, if you’d feel more secure—”

  I shake my head emphatically, ignoring the ache of my heart at the knowledge that I’m giving up the chance to see August again so much sooner than planned—and safe from the Unseelie’s weapons and talons. The only reason I’d really need him here is if I’d be dragging him into even more danger.

  “I’ll be fine. Do whatever you’d do if I wasn’t here and you didn’t have to take me into account. That’s what would make me happiest.”

  And if I come to regret that decision later, the only one who’ll be suffering for it is me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Talia

  I thought playing August’s video games might be soothing, giving me the impression of him being here with me, but really it’s the opposite. How can I get absorbed in the game when something as simple as the digitized music makes me sharply aware of the empty space beside me? He would have given me a teasing nudge with his elbow, bantered about who was winning, and then nuzzled my hair in consolation any time he took the lead.

  After just a few minutes, I turn off the game and flop down on the recreation room sofa. I’ve already watched a movie. After dinner, Sylas and Whitt went off to discuss some new plans with their sentries. They haven’t found any more signs of Cole lurking around in the past few days, but he could just have gotten sneakier. I’m glad they’re not taking any chances, even though my stomach knots at the idea of what might happen to the pack if Aerik figures out who I am after all.

  An amused baritone carries from the doorway. “Becoming a lay-about, are you?”

  I push myself upright to see Sylas standing on the threshold, his expression weary but a small smile curving his lips. He’s tired from staying on top of all the steps he’s taking to protect me. The knots in my stomach pull tighter.

  “If there’s something I can do to help the pack—”

  He makes a dismissive sound and walks over to give my head a fond caress. “You do plenty already. Ivy’s told me how much you’re contributing in the kitchen. I’ll remind you again that you’re not a servant here.”

  “I know. I kind of got to like it after helping August so much. And it keeps me busy.” But working in the kitchen doesn’t feel like enough, not when I know Ivy and the fae man who pitches in too could handle the meals on their own easily enough. “You’ve been working on training some of the pack like August was. He was thinking I might be able to join in with them soon.”

  Sylas shakes his head. “If Aerik is still keeping an eye on our activities here, having my cadre-chosen’s supposed lover learning combat skills would raise concerns even if he has no idea who you really are.” When I start to make a face, he taps my chin. “But I was thinking we shouldn’t neglect another area of your training. How have you been coming along with your magic?”

  “I think I’m getting better at quickly bringing up the emotions I need to command bronze.” I’ve been practicing several times a day, and picturing enemies charging at August on the battlefield stirs up my fear and anger in an instant. “I just keep making that spoon twist into different shapes, since I don’t think August would appreciate me going through all the bronze equipme
nt in the kitchen.”

  Sylas chuckles. “No, I expect not. He was attempting to teach you the true word for light as well, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes.” I look down at my hands, remembering the brief spark I conjured while filled with joy and love in August’s arms. While he’s been gone, I haven’t been able to summon that feeling again, not strongly enough to bring another flash of light with it. Every happy memory of him is tainted by the knowledge that he’s beyond my reach where those enemies could stop him from ever returning. “I haven’t had as much success with that. But he did say it usually takes even fae a while to learn new true names, especially when they’re just getting started learning magic.”

  “It does.” Sylas lowers himself onto the sofa next to me, stretching out his impressive legs. “Why don’t you give it a try now, and I’ll see if I notice any areas you could work on?”

  Doubt fills my gut, but he asked me to try, so I will. He’s the most adept magic user out of the men of the keep, from what August has said. Maybe there is something I’ve missed that would make the process come easier to me, without needing quite so much, er, inspiration.

  I sound out the syllables in my mind before rolling them off my tongue with all the energy I can channel into them. “Sole-un-straw.”

  I can tell even as I speak that no magic is reverberating through me. I pause to gather myself and think back to the one moment it worked before, to the afterglow of pleasure shimmering through my body and the adoration in August’s voice as I brought him to his own peak. Will we get to be that close again—or closer?

  A flutter runs through my chest, but it’s joined by a pang of worry. “Sole-un-straw,” I say, willing the word to call light out of the air, but nothing flickers around my splayed fingers.

  Sylas rubs his jaw, studying my hands and then my face. “You’ve gotten the sound of it right to my ears. I’m surprised you’re not seeing at least a small effect. I assume you’re drawing on your emotions as works when it comes to bronze. Have you managed to produce any light at all during previous practice, or is this how it typically goes?”