Wildest Dreams

by Faith Ellis

  In truth, not a lot, not nearly enough.

  "Even if there’s a chance that it's true, don't ya wanna be prepared for it?" Those yellow eyes dare to hold mine.

  I glare at the leader for a moment before acknowl- edging the truth in his words. Mine are a stiff dismissal. "The deal is done."

  A breeze flows through the thick trees, and the group of redcaps shudder and shuffle anxiously. The forest grows impatient.

  "You will tell no one of this encounter." A cold sweat breaks out across my brow, and I widen my eyes in an attempt to refocus as dizziness washes over me. Lately, I have been feeling sinister, and I am beginning to wonder if it isn't simply exhaustion but something worse.

  Rosco turns with a quick a bow. "Yes, prince." With that, he guides his folk deeper into the thick trees, and they disappear among the darkness.

  For a moment, I stay in the same spot, steadying myself and going over every possibility in my head. If Queen Mable somehow succeeds in this insanity, this impossibility, more than just the fae will lose. This would go beyond the other realms if she saw fit. She could rule over the faery realm completely, but could she open an entry for the wraiths? The wraith realm has so much unknown. They shouldn't have access to Faery at all. They go against what Mother Nature in- tended. To open that realm would cause an imbalance in the laws of nature, and that could mean an end to Faery.

  The forest is deadly silent and darker than it was prior to the redcaps’ intervention. I scan my surround- ings to ensure no one else is around before I transform into my phouka horse and walk toward that invisible veil and our home. As my head pounds from nausea, all I can think is that we need to leave immediately. What if Queen Mable has already started whatever she dis- covered to take a fae's ability? We have to stop her, and

  the urgency to get to Queen Mable pulses through my blood.

  In my head, I abandon all previous planning. From prior tracking and staking out, I know the guards at Queen Mable's castle usually rotate on a bihourly ba- sis, so there will be a window where security will be slightly weaker. I need to get Malor and Andryad packed, and we need to go.

  Now.

  But when I get to the house, quiet and dimly lit, the only light stemming from the amber glow of the low- burning fire in the main room, I find Andryad asleep on the bed upstairs, moonlight falling through the win- dow, shining on her, making her skin glitter. All I can do is stop and stare. Will this be the last time we are together? She is spread out on the heavy blankets in a short silk nightgown. Her chest lightly rises and falls with each breath, and one arm sticks out from under her, her head resting on it, while her other one is on the curve of her hip.

  My chest tightens at the sight of her peacefulness. I am prepared to die for her, to protect her with my life. Tonight could be our last night together. Would she want me if I offer? If I tell her how much I want her? Could I die without ever being with her, melding her to me? My throat closes, and I turn to leave.

  Chapter 14 Andryad

  My breathing changes to match my racing heart when an overwhelming presence consumes me and raises the hairs on my arms and neck. They stand up with a sense of being watched. The air in the bedroom is cool, chilling my skin as my sprawled body lies atop the heavy covers in my thin nightdress. The silky fab- ric holds tight to the coolness and causes me to shiver. My eyes flutter open, just a little, to peek if some- one is there in the room with me. I fell asleep after leaving Malor downstairs. The training drained my essence to the core, exhausting my body. I scrunch my nose, opening my eyes fully, and lean up on my elbow just in time to see Aiden's tall, broad form in the door-

  way, turning to leave.

  "Wait." It comes out of my throat as a croak, but he hears and faces me.

  His expression is tired and worried. The heavy smell of earth and pine sticks to his clothes. Walking back into the room, he lays down his cloak and pack by the end of the bed and sits near me, the sound of garments

  and linens rustling as he plants himself on the edge near my feet.

  Studying him, I whisper in the shadows splayed from the moonlight, "Are we leaving?"

  The anxiety rolls off him in waves; his aura shifts about him in multiple colors, revealing his impatience. His body is tense and seems coiled as though preparing to run.

  He nods, and his eyes lock on to mine. "We need to pack, but yes."

  I make a decision now. Maybe not so much in my head, but in my heart. Holding on to the one thing we can look forward to for our future. I will wait for him—right now I will kiss the hell out of him—but everything else, it could wait. To give me something to dream peacefully about, something to ache for, to fight for. I push up closer to him and put my hands to his face, relishing in his bright eyes. My skin tightens as I bring my lips to his, slow and easy, grazing at first. Their softness consumes my thoughts and brands my own.

  Then my kisses turn harder, hungrier, as he re- sponds in kind, leaning over the heavy white duvet until he falls beside me. Our limbs tangle, his body warming my skin through his clothes. I bring myself on top of him as he lies back on the bed, and my legs straddle his hips. I can feel his need, his ache for me through his breeches, and a small gasp escapes my throat.

  It’s met with an animalistic groan from his own. He places his hand at the back of my neck, grips my waist with his other as his fingertips dig into my skin, and pulls me down to crush his lips against mine again. His hand is like fire on my waist, seeping through the thin silk of my gown, searing a hole through the fabric and into my skin, claiming me. When my dress shifts up high around my waist and his hand roams under- neath, his fingertips brush the bottom of my breast, and I panic, yanking myself out of his touch. The look in his eyes is that of pain, regret.

  "I'm sorry, An," he whispers urgently. "I assumed, I'm sorry."

  "It's—Aiden, I love you, but I'm not ready."

  His hand runs down the back of his neck. "What if we don't get this chance again?"

  My eyes shoot up to his. "You don't think we will?" "I don't know but"—he grabs both of my hands in

  his—"I know I want to have this moment with you." I study our hands, unable to meet his gaze.

  "It's okay, I don't want to force you into anything.

  You know me. I'm not like that."

  I sigh and finger the ends of my hair, pulling out of his hold. "I get it, you know other nymphs, and they're all the same: throwing themselves into an array of sex- ual expeditions. With my position, I never did that. But I want us to save this moment for when we can savor it together and not do it because we fear the end is near and we’ll never have it."

  A finger lifts my chin so I meet his gaze, and I feel heat spread through my cheeks. "It was wrong of me to assume that from you anyways, An. Please forgive me. Let's just… Will you just lie with me?"

  I smile and kiss him again. In this moment, I need to feel his love for me, to find the hope that we will have more of this in the days, weeks, months, years to come. So for a moment, we allow ourselves to just enjoy each other's kisses and each other's roaming hands, but we go no further. In the light of the moon, we put to mem- ory every detail of one another's face, we commit to memory what it feels like to press against each other. I beg Mother Nature for another moment like this with him.

  We hold each other for a long time. My body com- pressed against his, fitting perfectly together. His length still presses against my bottom, and pressure builds between my thighs, but I force myself to just lie there. The room stays quiet aside from the stream, so close its song floats in through the wide window, a peaceful melody. As a soft orange glow seeps in to re- place the moon and colors bleed across the sky, we re- linquish each other to dress in fresh leathers.

  "Where are we going exactly?" I inquire as I slip into my combat boots and strap them up to my knees.

  Aiden swings his sword over one hip and ties it off. "We're going straight to the Second Court, right into Queen Mable's."

  My hands stops plaiting my hair as
my eyes shoot to him. "To Mable? Do you think we're ready for that?"

  He shrugs as he grabs a pack from the closet on the other side of the bed. "We have to be."

  I step in front of him. "I'm not sure I'm ready to face her yet. My fire is still new, and we understand very lit- tle about the other ability." Aiden doesn't look at me as he pulls out clean clothes and folds them neatly into the pack.

  "I have more faith in you than you do in yourself, An. We'll be fine," he says curtly.

  "Aiden." I tug at his shoulder and force him to look at me. His eyes are glassy, but he seems strong as he stares back, determination boring at me through those gems. "Are you sure this is wise?"

  His hands lie on top my shoulders. "Do you trust me?"

  "Of course I do."

  "We need to do this now. I believe in you, and you need to believe in yourself too." An odd feeling wraps around my limbs. If I had never left Faery, would I have that belief in myself instead of feeling like a child who needs an extra push from a parent to gain confidence in themselves?

  My teeth worry at my lower lip. "Have you told Malor yet?"

  He turns away and focuses on filling his pack. "Not yet. You might have to persuade him a little." Aiden walks out of the room toward the stairs, leaving me puzzled by his sudden decision.

  But I was honest when I said I trust him, and some- times that means believing in things you can't see or

  don't fully understand. Tying off the end of my hair with a ribbon I grab from the dresser, I follow Aiden to the main room.

  Malor is still soundly asleep downstairs. He is a nightmare to wake. I shake him, mindful of the gauzy wings that cocoon his shoulders. Slowly his eyes open, and he stares at me, cranky. Yawning and stretching, he grudgingly pulls himself together, noting the urgency in Aiden's aura, which flows in muddied red waves.

  "What's going on?" he asks. Sleep still coats his voice, making it husky. Aiden strides to the kitchen while I pause over Malor.

  "We're leaving," I tell him, grabbing his hand and helping him to his feet.

  He stretches his arms overhead, causing his shirt to expose the lower half of his abdomen, and looks to where Aiden walked to the kitchen, then back at me, puzzled. "What? Why? Where are we going?"

  My lips press together in a thin line. "Aiden said it's time to leave. He is taking us to Mable's."

  "What?" Malor hisses before he turns on his heel and walks into the kitchen to find Aiden, who is pulling dried foods from the cabinets, filling canteens with water, and stuffing items neatly into more packs he laid out on the island. "Hey," Malor barks as Aiden lifts his eyes to him, barely stopping to acknowledge him at all. Malor stands, exuding his dominance, hands laid flat on top of the counter, wings broad. His eyes flare with anger, his aura gleams red with swirls of black. "What's all this, then?"

  Aiden continues his packing. "We need to leave." "Yeah, got that update. Why? Why are we going to

  Queen Mable's? That sounds like a sure way to fucking suicide."

  "It won't be."

  Malor looks back at me as I stand in the doorway, quiet and watching. His eyes turn back to Aiden. "You think she's ready to take on Queen Mable?"

  Aiden regards me before he proceeds to tie the packs. "I do, and she has us. We have Folk on the in- side, right under Queen Mable's nose."

  Malor curls his lip. "Oh, sure, okay. Us, the three of us. One queen still coming into her powers, Mr. Ice Prince who hasn't even been here, and myself. The three of us against a whole bunch of powerless war- riors—sure. I can see that." He throws up his arms. "But against Queen Mable's Elites? Herself? What the hell are we going to do? This sounds like a suicide mission." Aiden slams down the packs, metal canteens strik- ing against the marble countertop with a sharp noise

  that causes me to jump.

  "How do you even know she's ready, Aiden, when you've been MIA on your little secret missions?"

  Aiden's voice turns icy as he avoids the question. "If you don't trust me, fine. Stay here."

  "Maybe I will, but Annie stays too."

  The males glare at each other as tension buries the large room.

  Quietly, my boots pad across the tiles, and I position myself at the end of the island, between them. Aiden

  looks to me first, expectantly. He asked if I trust him, and I said yes; now he is silently asking for my support to back him up. When Malor finally looks at me too, my powers burn in my core and give me strength, and my aura wraps around me in a warm orange glow.

  "We're all going. Aiden's worked out the strategy, so if he says we move, then we move. We don't need to take out all of the Elites." I look at Aiden, and my brows rise. "They would follow you as well, wouldn't they?"

  Tension builds in his forehead. "If we detain Queen Mable, they would have no choice. They are bound by their word to the ruler of the Second Court, which would then be myself."

  I rein in my aura, hiding my doubt and uncertainty, and turn to Malor. "I can do this. But if you don't want to go, I will not ask you to." Malor's blue eyes study me for the longest time.

  Finally, he abates. "There's no way in hell I'm letting you do this without me," he grumbles under his breath. "Fine, but know this." Malor turns to Aiden while those emerald gems assess him without concern. "If you lead us to a trap, if you do anything to get her"—Malor's head nods to me—"killed, prince—king—I don't give a damn. I'll kill you."

  The air thickens with the heavy promise, the un- breakable word of a faery. Something quivers behind Aiden's eyes, but he doesn't say anything as Malor turns on his heel and stomps out of the kitchen.

  My breath releases as Aiden gathers the packs from the counter. Together, we walk out of the kitchen, and Malor hands me my dagger when we enter the main room. It glistens: the rubies sparkle, the metal gleams. I slide it into a sheath hidden inside my boot.

  With his hand on the door and his back to us, Aiden says, "There's one more thing that is best said here, where I know it won't be overheard."

  "Of course there is," Malor grumbles as he brushes down the front of his black overcoat, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. I cut my eyes at him, but he ig- nores me.

  "Before I returned home, I was trailed by redcaps who traded information. Queen Mable is in alignment with the wraith realm." Aiden looks at me. "She wants to take your powers, An, by some dark magic she learned from them. Somehow, she believes she can ex- tract it. She won't be looking to kill you."

  Malor steps forward protectively. "Then we do everything possible to keep her from getting Annie."

  "And"—I place my hand gently on Malor's arm—"if I find that's possible, I have to keep that from happen- ing."

  The meaning in my words goes without saying, but it's a deep twist in my gut with the possibility. If it comes down to it, and Mable can take my power, could I end my life to keep her from becoming even more powerful? I swallow the thick lump in my throat. But I hold their gazes until Aiden turns around and opens the door.

  We leave our beautiful home for what might be the final time. I allow myself to glance back at it once more, still enveloped in a light shade of pink, like a blanket bundled around a newborn babe. The house sleeps quietly. Aiden doused the fireplace, and no other lights shine through the large windows. The stream continues to lull, and the trees and tall grass stay where they are, unmoving. Dew has collected on the ground, coating the wildflowers in a subtle sheen. Looking up to the clear sky sprinkled with stars, I close my eyes and send up a silent prayer to Mother Nature for our next journey.

  The Forbidden Forest is dry and quiet, secluded with trees larger in circumference than an elephant's leg. Light streams through overhead between their canopy of leaves. My black boots are dusty with dry dirt, and sweat curls the ends of hair that has already come loose from my braid.

  "I hate the forest," Malor complains into the shad- ows at my right. "It's dirty, and it smells like wet socks."

  I almost laugh out loud. "You really are a queen." He rolls his shoulders, tucking
his wings tighter.

  "There is nothing wrong with wanting things pristine. Besides, it's a lot of work to hold your wings up all the time. There's no way I'm going to let them drag through this muck."

  I shake my head at that. If it is work, Malor is mak- ing it look effortless as he continues forward, straight- backed without so much as a wingtip grazing the earth.

  Tired and hungry, we stop to reenergize with dried meats of fruits.

  Malor moans again. "These boots were just shined, now look at how disgusting they are." He lifts one foot up to give me a better view, a light dusting covering any sheen that was previously there.

  "I have a new plan," I offer lightly as we sit on a large fallen tree, concealed by the forest. "Why not of- fer Mable a new prince in your stead?" My eyes turn to Aiden. "Malor would be more than willing to be royalty, and then we'd have an inside man."

  Malor wrinkles his nose. "There's no way I could live there, it's far too cold. It dries out my skin something awful."

  I pout, mocking him, and squeal when his finger pokes my ribs.

  The log is damp, though it hasn't rained and the rest of the forest is crisp. It never rains here in the forest. But right now, something causes the area around us to be damp enough to soak through my breeches and chill my skin.

  "Probably not a bad idea, come to think of it. You might drive her to her own death with your incessant bickering and complaining," Aiden mutters as he stands and brushes dirt from his breeches.

  "You know, if you become king, I'd be happy to become your chief and see if it has a similar effect," Malor bites back.

  "Do you really find that you're qualified for such a position, or was it more of a pity role offered to