by Faith Ellis
"How would that be possible?" My voice is steady, more balanced than I am feeling. "At first, it was like his ability was being used against me, like I was the enemy. But when I relaxed and allowed it in, I could control it the same way I can with my fire."
We turn to Malor, who’s shuffling his feet. But my friend just shrugs uncertainly.
I huff. "Malor, your dad taught you everything about fae abilities. He prepared you for every possibility. Surely there is information on this."
"Hey, you have the fire, so anything’s possible, right? There are still things out there to be discovered." His arms open wide, and his eyes glaze for a moment as he thinks. "The queen might know about your fire. It's got to be why she's so threatened. I'm not sure how she knows, but I wonder if she knows about this." He gestures to me and looks at Aiden, who cocks his head in thought. "You would be the one to make fae history, you know that? Always complicating things." Malor grins, and I narrow my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest.
"I'm still mad at you, Mal, for almost fucking drown- ing me." He has the audacity to chuckle, making me grind my teeth so hard my jaw aches. Some friend in- deed.
"It's possible she's been practicing dark magic," Aiden suggests, sifting through his own thoughts as he shoves his hands into his pockets. "Queen Mable," he clarifies at our confused expressions. "There's a rumor she's dabbled in a darker form of the arts, maybe even prophecies and predictions, extreme forms of blood magic, things we aren't meant to know or explore. What if, somehow, she saw this even before you were born? What if there is a magic that reveals the future, like a prophecy?"
Malor turns to him in exasperation. "That's what you go with? That's great, so she can see everything we're doing right now?"
Aiden gazes at him calmly. "I don't exactly know how it works or what tricks she has up her sleeves, but it's possible. For now, continue working and figure out exactly how this new ability works and how to control
it."
He turns to walk back to the house and stops short. Without facing us, he adds, "We need to leave soon, so practice is crucial. The queen is sending half of her warriors to the First Court, so she will have less protec- tion for a while. Allow Malor to do his damnest and see if the only way to use another's ability is by allowing it to touch you, get in you. In the meantime, I am leaving. I need to finalize things with some other Folk. I know there are others who want to end Queen Mable's reign; I just need to find them, see if they have any updates or last-minute information. Just keep practicing. I will be back, and then we can plan our next move."
Malor eyes me warily, waiting for my lead, a ques- tion in his sparkling eyes. I stare back as the danger- ous, dark faery prince saunters away to pack for his journey. My heart strains against my sternum. It is too soon for him to leave my side. The experience is like when you aren’t fully asleep but not quite awake, and reality feels false.
"Go," Malor urges in a whisper.
I run to catch up with Aiden before he gets to the door and call, "Hey, Aiden, wait a moment!"
He pauses with a hand toward the knob and turns his body halfway to me. Leveling my breath, I ask, "Can I go with you? I think my people should see me, see the leader that I am becoming. Don't you think that would be a good idea?"
His chest rises heavily as he takes a big breath. Something dances across his face, an odd look I can't place. "Not right now, An. It's too dangerous. What if one of them turns on you?"
My face falls, and I wrap my arms around my middle as my brow knits together. "Then why would they team up with us in the first place?"
"I just don't think it's a good time." He reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Next time, okay?"
I shrug his hand off in annoyance. "But you said we're leaving soon. So when is there a next time?"
"Look, An, I'm trying to get some Folk on the inside, okay? You need to focus on your strength so I can fo- cus on the strategy right now. If we can get people in- side, that gives us an upper hand."
"I understand that." My voice rises with a sharpness that sounds stern to my ears. "I just think a reminder of who and what they're doing this for could be impor- tant." He lifts a hand to his head, swaying a little. My instinct is to help steady him, my brow scrunching in concern. "Aiden, are you okay?" My voice is softer with care, but he brushes me off and smooths his face into nonchalance.
"I'm just tired. I need to go, and I'll come back and rest. Please, An, stay here. We need you strong, and for that, we need you to practice. Please?"
I stare at him a moment longer. His green eyes are dim, and shadows layer his face. Relenting, I sigh. "Okay, I trust your judgment. Don't stay gone long—hurry back."
He presses a quick kiss to my brow; his lips are cool. "I will." Then he turns back to the house. Once he steps inside, I walk to the training circle, all the while worrying about Aiden.
Malor and I practice more before the evening over- takes the light of day. I alternate skills, my fire drying up his water or using his own ability against it. The latter requires more of my concentration to feel out where his ability is inside of me. That's the thing, I can't just reach out and touch the water he manipu- lates. The ability has to be put in me for me to find and bend it to my own will to use against him.
I direct my energy into being faster, harder, and more strategic. Malor sets all joking aside while we train. No longer are we best friends; when we train, we
fight as enemies. We've set the weapons aside to focus wholeheartedly on strengthening my natural abilities and building endurance.
The remaining daylight flies by, and when we get back into the house, it's quiet in Aiden's absence. The beautiful, warm home feels cold and empty without him here. My stomach sinks a little, and I regret my de- cision not to join him in his bed on any of the previous nights. We’ve not kissed since that night in the kitchen upon his return. We’ve barely done more than train to- gether. My heart aches with emptiness at his absence and at the thought of never being able to have more in- timate moments with him.
"You think he'll be okay?" I turn to my best friend as he raids the fridge and sets out fruits and meat I as- sume is bird, but I crave sugar. "I hate him being out there with all of the queen's warriors on the hunt for him. All it takes is approaching one wrong fae, rebel or not, who turns him in. I should be with him."
Malor bites into an apple, a solid crunch as the flesh splits and juice coats his lips in a sticky sheen. While I watch him, I can’t help but think he's so familiar, so beautiful with the sharp outlines of his face and those wings tucked behind him, delicate yet strong at the same time. My heart swells with the normality he brings me.
"He'll be fine, Annie, he's highly trained," he an- swers between bites.
My tongue slides over my teeth in thought. "Does he seem off to you?"
He shakes his head. "No, not sulkier than usual." Malor grins wide before he pulls out a handkerchief from his pants pocket and dabs his mouth. "He's just got a lot in his head. We all do, and we're all tired. You know him. He's planning and strategizing, and it preoc- cupies him. We can't afford a mistake."
"No, of course not. I understand that." I sigh and start toward the living room. "I have a headache. I need to lie down."
"Hey, throw your dagger in there. I'll clean it with my own," Malor calls after me. I walk through, drop- ping my dagger onto the rug by the fire, and drag my- self up the stairs to the bedroom, Aiden on my mind the whole way.
Chapter 13 Aiden
Leaves whisper as their dry skeletons shimmy across the hard ground. The cool air pushes my cloak around my body. Things are quiet in the forest, but every now and again, tiny pairs of eyes glitter from be- neath the low branches of bushes or peek up from small boulders and dismembered limbs that coat the forest floor. Sprites or moss Folk going about their lives, leery of us as we accidentally invade their space and turn their home into our meeting ground.
I am still planning with little leeway, little progress. Truthfully, the only thing
I seem to have accomplished is placing a select few on the inside of Queen Mable's castle among her staff. Folk are scared to put their necks out for a new queen, and it's tough to place blame on them after what many have already been through. Many who Queen Mable has enslaved have families that still reside in the First Court. While hatred for my mother runs deep among Faeryland, their main focus is to keep the family they have safe, and they aren't willing to risk them. Without knowing Princess Andryad or her power, they won't be willing to gamble on An's ability to take Queen Mable down with the possibility of trading one powerful queen for a poten-
tially more powerful one. The big question they're ask- ing is if it'll be worth the risk.
Chasal stands in front of me with his head bowed close to mine as we speak softly. Both of our hoods dip low over our faces, but one of his golden waves escapes in a thick tress, seeking freedom from the dark con- finement.
My voice is quick and even. "Are we clear on the plan?"
There isn't a hint of hesitation. "She is my rightful queen, all of ours. It is our duty to protect her and to follow her," he informs me. He shifts his stance as a sprite darts around his feet and under a bush nearby.
"Captain, you will agree to these terms, yes?" I ques- tion.
He raises a fist over his heart. "I vow it. It is an honor to serve you and my queen." I nod, accepting his promise.
"No matter what happens, you will stick to our plan."
"Yes, my prince."
I clap a hand to his shoulder in a brotherly gesture, and he spins on his heel. He is soon lost in the thick mist.
The Forbidden Forest is gloomier than usual, it seems. Maybe it is simply my somber mood. After meeting with the captain one final time and agreeing on a few more details, I wrap my cloak tighter around me and delve deeper into the forest, back toward home. But I feel a shift in the air, a presence among
the trees in addition to the usual riffraff. The forest is a place of evil and danger.
It isn't long before the crawling, scuttling noises, like a thousand insects, sneak through the trees, fol- lowing me. When I stop, the scurrying does too. I start again, and the crawling syncs with my movements. What being with even an ounce of intelligence thinks it wise to follow the Second Court Prince? Most of Faery know who, and what, I am. Being Queen Mable's son comes with an assumed reputation of being sav- age.
My neck cracks with the roll of my shoulders, and I reach inside myself, pulling ice to the surface. The mist turns to tiny icicles through the forest. With a swirl of my wrist, I freeze everything within a few yards, and with a tug, I pull the frozen figures from their hid- ing spots. The ice that surrounds their faces I allow to melt down to their necks for a closer look: a handful of scrappy redcaps.
Scoundrels.
As they stand there shivering from their ice capture, I relinquish my hold and persuade the ice to thaw.
With a lift of my chin, I muster the ice in my voice. "Whose idea was it to follow the dark prince?" I fold back one side of my cloak to show the sword on my hip, adding to what terror they should be experiencing. "Why are you following me?" I demand but maintain a calm exterior.
The ice runs through my veins, illuminating the skin in a faint blue underneath my black leathers. A
familiar-looking redcap shivers as he waddles to the front. He is a little bigger than the rest, stocky, and about a head taller.
"I-I a-ah-am Rosc-Rosco." His teeth chatter to- gether, blood still freezing cold as the ice slowly re- cedes, now down to his legs.
"Ah yes, I remember you." Authority easily slides into my voice. "You have some nerve to be following me. You best have a damn good reason." My hand pur- posely drifts to rest on my sword. The redcap leader doesn't miss the movement. His yellow eyes bounce from the blade back to me as he bows his head in re- spect.
"I do, prince. I’ve s-some-something ya mi- might want ta he-he-hear."
"Out with it, redcap." My free hand waves through the air with impatience.
Trusting Low fae such as redcaps can be a massive mistake. They do not have much ability, but they are manipulative in mysterious ways. Outward lies may not have the freedom to fall from their cracked, blood- crusted lips, but the way they can twist words to mean something other than they sound can be tricky and re- quires careful attention.
With the ice now fully melted from Rosco, he rubs his gnarled hands up and down his bare arms to get the blood flowing and warm. "The queen." His eyes grow large as he raises his head, color blooming back in his lips and cheeks. "She knows what yar plan is, and she’s prepared."
"As expected. You risked your hide to tell me what I already know?" My eyes narrow and flash blue with the ice translucent in my veins.
Rosco stands at this, strong and firm, nearly defiant. "Prince Aiden, we respect ya. We mean ya no harm. She’s more prepared than ya think. The warriors ya seen aren’t even half of what she hides on the inside. She doesn’t wish ta kill the princess."
A snarl escapes my throat, and I move unnervingly fast to stand over the redcap leader, grabbing the scruff of his ragged vest. "I know her army and her war- riors are no match for High fae. She has but a small band of Elites, relying far too highly on her own power." Ice flares at my fingertips like small blades. "What, then, does she plan, since you know so well?" My lack of patience is beginning to overtake my better judgment. "If you know something, spit it out; other- wise, get out of my sight. I'm starting to feel as if this is a trap, and I do not like it." My nostrils flare as my temperature rises, causing the ice to liquefy beneath my skin.
Rosco does not balk. "She aims ta use her. My sources have word of exactly what that’s expected ta entail." His ugly eyes narrow at me, waiting.
My lip curls. "What do you want in exchange for this information?" It isn't from the goodness of his cold heart that he's found me and is simply willing to share. This creature edges for something in return.
"A peace agreement. Borders granted so that my folks have land and safety in exchange for my intel
and a promise that none of mine nor I’ll mess with any fae within your lands. Queen Mable’s thinned out our numbers so much that we won’t require much space."
Considering what the information could be, that's not a bad deal. The ice recedes back snugly into my core, and my hold on Rosco loosens. "Very well. You tell me everything you know about what Queen Mable wants with the princess, if not to simply kill her. If it is as you say, I will grant you land."
The redcap leader smiles a terrible smile; his lips crack more as they pull back to reveal sharp, pointy, teeth, some missing.
"But," I add immediately, "if your information proves manipulative in any way—if any of this is a trick—" My face is so near his, the rotting scent cling- ing to his skin causes my stomach to flip, but I refuse to recoil. "Queen Mable and what she's done to your kind will seem like the actions of a lamb compared to the torment I will evoke. Are we clear?"
His jaw clenches for a moment before he bites out, "Yes, Your Highness."
"Excellent." I set him down. "Let's hear it, then."
Rosco doesn't waste a second. "Queen Mable wants the princess alive ta find a way ta drain her power and transfer it ta herself. She wants ta take her as a pris- oner."
I frown. "She wants the princess alive? As a pris- oner?" So many questions form in my head. "How would she take her powers? You cannot simply take another fae's ability—that's one's essence, a gift from
Mother Nature…" Unless she truly has been practicing dark magic.
Rosco shrugs. "It’s beyond whatever nature in- tended, surely. But that doesn't change Queen Mable's plans. There’s a rumor—I can’t guarantee the certainty of this—that Queen Mable’s been dealing with the wraiths and delving into their magic."
Gloomy realization settles over me, and I take a deep breath. That could explain how she had a wraith doing her bidding, spying on An and me earlier in the forest. If she has tapped into their realm and their magic, there's no telling what she
can do. "And how do you come by this information, exactly?"
"My group’s in the castle regularly. Servants, as ya know, and spies. But they only have one true leader: me." He shoves a thick thumb toward his bare chest. "They report back ta me with everything." Pride ignites in Rosco's features.
"Didn't your Folk swear fealty to Queen Mable?" My eyebrow lifts.
His smile is feral. "The rules of the fae are a wonder- ous thing, Prince—they swore fealty ta me first. They can tell me these things. Lucky for you, I’m not un- der her rule. I've been in hiding since before the king and queen of the First Court were assassinated. I'd like ta keep it that way until ya and yar princess get these things resolved." He crosses his stumpy arms.
"And why would the redcaps want to protect the princess? How do I know this isn't a setup by Queen
Mable herself?" I don't bother to hide the distaste in my voice.
"We like the princess better. Ya High faeries have yar courts and yar rules." He gestures to his followers. "We love blood, but not when it's our own being spilled. The queen will kill a redcap faster than she kills her own kind. Ya know this. There used ta be thousands who followed me alone. Now, it's just what ya see around ya. She's killing us for sport, but we couldn't all hide, and I won't abandon my own kind." Rosco's eyes fill with hate and hunger. Revenge—sick and twisted.
I raise my chin in a challenge. "To drain a fae's pow- ers—that's unheard of. It cannot be done." I tug at my sleeves, confident in my conclusion. "She's delusional. She's threatened, and she's struggling to hold on to every impossibility."
"Maybe, but word is, she claims that she’s discov- ered a way. Besides, what do we really know about the wraiths and what they're capable of?"
