Wildest Dreams

by Faith Ellis

  a dear friend?" Aiden's eyes flash, streaking through with gold.

  I shoot up. "That's enough! Both of you are acting like spoiled children, and this is far from the time. It ends here—we're putting our lives in each other's hands, so get over it and move on." Neither of them have a moment to speak before I stomp off, not waiting for them to follow.

  Dominant asses.

  We continue to move as darkness falls. The increas- ing active forest life disguises our scents with their presence and conceals any noise we might make. The darkness settles around us, but our fae sight allows for a clear view. Malor moves in front of me, and a thick squish followed by a suction sound and his dis- gust tells me he's stepped into something unpleasant.

  "Ugh!" Malor halts, a sharp, sour scent filling the air. "I just stepped in goblin dung. Those nasty crea- tures. They act like animals, the lot of them, with their lack of civilization. It's repulsive." Thankfully the for- est’s nightlife remains busy chattering away and cov- ering Malor’s quibbles of frustration and discontent. Aiden and I both shake our heads, looking anywhere but at our friend.

  "Your chief can't handle dust or dung, yet you ex- pect him to lead an army into battle?" Aiden whispers to me. I know he's squabbling with Malor, but I feel the need to defend not only my friend but my choice.

  I raise my chin, meeting Aiden's eyes. "Malor's prim, yes. But he's also brave and loyal and extremely skilled,

  and that's why he's my chief. Being my best friend is an added bonus."

  Aiden's face falls, maybe because it hurts his pride that I don't take his side. But I move forward and don't allow him a chance to say more.

  Malor kicks at the forest floor and stomps off in search of a rock to clean off his boots, mumbling, "Simpleton creatures. If I were king, they wouldn't be allowed to roam and act like animals."

  Aiden barely glances at him, clearly annoyed with his whining. "That looks fresh. Keep an eye out just in case. No doubt they passed through here not long ago." My eyes dart around the trees, but there is so much overlapping foliage, it is hard to see anything under the brush. I reposition the heavy pack on my shoulder and catch up to Malor's side. We continue through the forest, listening to it come alive with renewed energy. Eyes of creatures peek out from the trees, watching us.

  They are large, bright, and seem to simply be curious as we pass by.

  Aiden trails behind us, sulking at my siding with Malor. The deeper we go into the forest, the tighter we wrap our cloaks around us and the lower we pull our hoods over our faces, refusing to communicate or even make eye contact with anyone.

  "Just keep walking," Aiden whispers to us as he comes up to our sides. "It might just be the moss Folk. They're harmless."

  My eyes wander, consuming our surroundings. "Should we engage? We could just tell them we mean no harm and ask them to reveal themselves."

  Aiden shakes his head. "I don't think so. They're peaceful, solitary. It might scare them."

  With watchful eyes and open ears, we're all on alert. The forest does not warm to us. It becomes more unre- lenting, covering our path with thick roots and heavy fallen trees we are either forced to climb over or go around.

  The smell greets me long before they fan out in front of us. The males catch the scent too, a mixture of sour eggs and feces. Back-to-back, we each pull out our weapons. My sword is tied to my hip for easy access, but I reach for my dagger. The familiarity and weight of it in my palm gives me comfort as it carefully slips out of the sheath in my boot.

  Goblins, dozens of them, come staggering and stum- bling out of the trees in front of us, blocking the path and surrounding us. They stand short in stature, with large ears sticking straight out from the sides of their misshapen heads, ending in points. Many of them are hunched over. Their long, skinny arms nearly drag the ground. Warts cover most of their bodies, and only a couple wear more than ragged bits of cloth around their hips and groin. A few have tattered vests on their upper bodies. They sway and growl like beasts in a laughing, maniac manner. All three of us unwind our abilities from our cores, bringing them to the surface as a precaution in case we need them fast.

  Goblins are nasty, mean creatures. They aren't as cutthroat as redcaps in that they don't necessarily kill for sport. They will eat anything: animal, fae, hu- man—they are scavengers. Their group is covered in mud—at least, that's what I hope it is—and they reek of waste and faery liquor. Likely the cause of their staggering and stumbling. Ranking among goblins de- pends on brute strength. They make decisions by fighting each other until the strongest wins. The battle is typically bloody and goes to whoever is left standing. The goblin group stops and locks eyes on us, hungry and looking for tonight's meal. They sniff the air, and their mouths split into wide grins, revealing sharp, pointed teeth covered in bits of rotting flesh from pre-

  vious meals.

  "Her a female," one of them within the crowd snarls as a smile cuts across his ugly face. He has sickly green-tinged skin and a thick, low-set brow. His nose is set at an odd angle, with warts that remind me of the old witch from Snow White I once watched with Halsey.

  "And her has powerful magic," reveals another in a croaky voice. His right ear is missing a large chunk of flesh at the bottom.

  "Let's eat them." Suggestions quickly float through the crowd, making my heart hammer in anticipation. I do not doubt the males' ability to take on a few dozen goblins but wonder about my own. Would I be an asset or a liability? Would I be the reason someone got hurt or killed? If so, could I live with that?

  Malor flashes a haughty grin at me. "Annie, you ready for some real-world battle practice?"

  I wince as Aiden growls low at my side. The goblins still toss around their suggestions among their group.

  "Let them loose! And chase! Then us eat them." "Me want the female one. Me gone lick her, just a

  taste first." A dribble of saliva falls from the corner of one’s mouth and runs down his chin.

  "Me want her tongue," another chimes in.

  My stomach recoils, and my male companions tense as Aiden informs us, "We have to do this as quickly and quietly as possible, or we might draw something else's attention."

  Malor and I nod, shifting into wider stances for bet- ter balance.

  Aiden poises for a fight, sliding his sword from his hip, and Malor inhales, unfolding those powerful wings and drawing twin blades from his back. The goblins note our moves and cease their chattering, turning it to concurrent hissing that lifts the hairs on my neck.

  They flaunt their sharp claws and display their even sharper fangs. Aiden raises his sword, stepping toward the goblins in front of us while Malor and I watch those at our sides and back. Two of the goblins immediately lunge at Aiden. He swings his sword easily, and they dodge just in time, jeering. All around us, the rest of them run in for a full attack, teeth gnashing, claws scraping greedily in the air.

  At Malor's side, a goblin rushes at me, his mouth yawning wide and his hands high above his head. I aim

  to sink my dagger into his shoulder, but he swerves, and I spin around to try to catch him as he races for- ward for Malor. The blade sinks easily into his pebbled flesh. He relinquishes a groan and falls to his knees. Dark, garnet blood dribbles from his mouth as I yank my dagger free and twist back in time for another op- ponent, who slashes my arm, claws splitting my flesh.

  I grind my teeth against the burning sensation as the wound binds itself, sealing and smoothing. A snarl lets loose from my throat as I stare down the goblin racing for me again. Inhaling, their acidic smell threat- ens to choke me, but I push it away and draw up that fire from my center. I exhale and push it out through my palm directly at the goblin, and it consumes him. His screams pierce my ears, causing me to slam my hands over them and press hard to stop the sounds. I squeeze my eyes tight, begging it to stop.

  My breathing evens, and my hands fall away as I look where the goblin had stood. There's nothing but a pile of gray ash. My world goes silent, and it spins.

&n
bsp; I did that.

  As I continue looking at that pile of obliteration, a force suddenly falls onto me from the tree above. My dagger flies out of my hands as I am crushed into the ground and brought back into reality. A hand tan- gles tightly into my hair, yanking me to my knees. A bumpy, thin arm wraps around my neck, something cold and metallic pressed against my throat.

  "Back down, prince," the voice behind me demands loudly, clearer than the others. Everyone turns to us.

  Aiden’s and Malor's swords hang in the air; the other goblins have stopped to watch. The goblin who holds me presses his dagger closer to my throat; I am sure blood will spurt any second.

  "Us are hungry," my captor announces. "Think us earned us’s meal now, yeah?"

  The goblin crowd cheers and dances. The ones on the ground roll around through the dirt and brush of the forest floor. Aiden and Malor look between them- selves and then at me, oblivious to my distress just moments ago at the destruction and reality of my power.

  "What’s your name, goblin?" Malor moves first, lazily strolling closer to us; meanwhile, Aiden's face is laced with concern by his display.

  "It doesn't matter, son of the First Court's chief of knights."

  Malor's expression plunges at the mention of his fallen father and the surprise the goblin knows whom he is.

  "Oh yes," the goblin shares, "Me know who you are. Us all knows the three out to kill the queen of the Second Court." The goblin tightens his arm around my throat, making me flinch as my hands latch on to his bumpy skin to keep him from cutting off my air com- pletely. His breath is hot against my ear and smells stale, sour like old wine.

  "Let her go, goblin muck." Aiden's voice is danger- ously low as the air temperature drops quickly.

  "Uhn-uh, don't go doing something so stupid, princey. Me will slice her pretty little throat and spill her blood before you ice has a chance to freeze me hand." In an effort to prove he isn't bluffing, the goblin digs the knife deeper against my throat. A warm wet- ness slithers down my neck where he has broken skin, but it quickly pieces itself back together. "Then me will drink it from a golden goblet before me explore other parts of her and see what them taste like. Now, remove the ice gathering in the air."

  My cheeks warm in the chilling air, and the fire slides through my veins. Aiden retracts his ice, and the temperature returns to the prior chill of the forest.

  With his arms directly on my throat, the goblin no doubt feels the rushing of my pulse. The air stinks of fear, and sweat drips down the back of my shirt. My eyes leap around the scene. If I move, the knife will surely slit my throat, so quickly even my ability won’t heal fast enough to save me. By the time Malor or Aiden summon their powers and throw them at the goblin holding me, he'd have killed me, and the males risk the chance of hitting me as well.

  I have to use my fire. It’s him or me.

  So long as I know Aiden and Malor can control the crowd surrounding us. I try catch Aiden's eye. As if he senses my thoughts, he glances at me and finds me staring at him. He waits on a signal, which I give: a tiny spark behind my eyes. My blue eyes singe with dancing streams of the fire that illuminate me from inside, and Aiden tips his head to Malor.

  Fast as lightning, the fire rushes out and engulfs my entire body, becoming a living flame and burning my captor, who immediately releases his hold. He stum- bles backward and falls to the ground, crying out in pain with his arm cradled against himself, touching his face and his body where burns ravage and the fire causes his skin to bubble and blacken.

  Aiden and Malor spin around, throwing ice and fill- ing the goblins’ throats, noses, and lungs with water, drowning them quickly. Aiden freezes some of the goblins, turning Malor's water into ice in their bodies and suffocating them as they claw helplessly at their own throats. The goblin who held me recovers from the burning while I tame my fire and draw it back in- side.

  He jabs his dagger at me, but I catch his hand at the hilt, singing his skin. He wails in pain, and the scent of burning flesh fills the air, and his wrist turns ashy where I've touched it. He jumps toward me again, snarling, his face changing into a disgusting twist of fury and pain. Instead of moving, I hold my ground and bend my knees to prepare for impact. My hands lift in front of me as I spread my fingers. Taking a deep breath in and out, I pull at the fire in my core, and flames dance at my fingertips.

  The fire shoots out of my fingers to the goblin in sharp arcs, licking at his toes. It catches on to the shabby cloth hanging around his hips, climbing. He panics as I will the fire to strengthen and grow, con-

  suming and him wholly and turning him to an unmov- ing crisp.

  And just like that, the entire goblin group surrounds us on the ground, dead. Every last one.

  Malor, Aiden, and I stand dazed for a moment with our essence pulsing through our veins, humming through our bodies as we attempt to rein it back in and calm it down. My fire is bright and strong before it winds down to embers, sizzling out into a slumber. Malor sheaths his blades, and Aiden smooths back his hair where pieces have come loose. They pull their packs back on as I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Neither looks injured: blood splatters their clothes, but it doesn't appear to be their own.

  "I haven't had a decent fight like that in far too long." Malor grins wide, jubilant in his success, stretch- ing his arms overhead and rotating his torso. "Almost worth the mess." He frowns as he surveys the messi- ness of guts across his boots.

  Aiden frowns, looking unimpressed, and eyes me with a quick once-over. "You did amazing, An. Your training has really honed your skills." One side of his mouth lifts. "I'm impressed. I told you, you were ready." I jut out my chin, cracking the thin streak of dried blood that ran from the cut down to my opal. "Yeah,

  I can handle myself, princey," I tease. "I learned from some of the best." This draws a smile from us all.

  He swallows and lowers his voice. "For a moment there, I was worried, I'll admit. I never want to see someone hold a blade to you again."

  Unsure what to say, I offer him a small smile. My mind swims with the images of the destruction I caused, and conflict overtakes me of whether I did what I had to or if there could have been another way. Aiden brushes a light kiss on my cheek and moves for- ward, but Malor is watching me intently.

  Once Aiden is out of earshot, he says, "The first time I ever killed someone, I asked my father if it gets easier. He said, ‘If it gets easier, that's what makes you the wrong type of person.’ He told me you can learn how to carry the guilt. You'll think about it every day, but as long you feel that guilt—you're on the right side." He squeezes my shoulder, and I give him a small nod.

  We continue to head north to the Second Court, the sun at our backs, but then it shifts to directly in front of us as it breaks through the trees above, as if the en- tire forest is rotating without our knowledge and caus- ing us to double back. Everything looks the same: thick trees and brush, heavy foliage covering every inch ex- cept the narrow path we remain on.

  My boots suck at the disgusting ground as it turns from dust to thick mud. Swamps, bogs, and roots block our path at times, making the road difficult. We agree that attempting to go around these messes would only encourage the forest further and make our journey that much more difficult and longer. I take a deep breath to calm my frustrations, but it does little. Soon Malor and I match each other's annoyance and frustra- tion, aching to complain.

  Malor stumbles over a thick root that seems to pop out of the ground and into his path. "Dammit!" he curses, righting himself before he falls face-first to the ground. "Are we almost out of this forsaken forest?"

  I watch my steps carefully, neither of us answering him. I am too consumed by my own thoughts. Being out of the forest means being in the Second Court and one step closer to facing Mable. My stomach flips, and my lips tighten.

  "Are you nervous?" Malor glances at me as my eyes move from him to Aiden at my other side.

  I dip my chin. "A little. I only briefly met the queen, but I ha
ve heard so many stories about her ruthless- ness."

  Aiden reaches out and gives my hand a quick squeeze before dropping it just as fast.

  "Aiden, I know as a child you tried to keep out of her way as much as possible. Were there ever any good moments with her?"

  For a while, I think he won't answer and am unsure of how open he will be with Malor, but his voice cuts through the air gruffly. "Some rare moments, yes, when I was very young, but they turned out to be a game. Like when she showed me off at her parties. She would brag about me, how strong I was getting. It made me proud that my mother was always talking me up. Who doesn't want their mother to think highly of them?" He releases a breath and keeps his eyes forward. "I quickly learned that most of what she was bragging about was, yes, my strength, but also that I would make

  a ruthless king." He shakes his head at the memory. "She had this vision from my birth that I would be- come a killer, and that was what she aimed to prime me for."

  "Why?" My voice comes out small. "Why is there only this need in her to hurt?"

  Aiden's shrugs. "I don't know, An. Everyone has good and evil in them, right? We choose which side to nurture and which side to let loose. Why do we choose good?"

  I answer immediately. "Because it's what's right." "Says who? Us?"

  "Us and many more Folk fighting for similar rights. We want to ensure a successful civilization and place value on each life. So yes, that's what's right."

  I look at my feet and step over a puddle of muck in the path.

  Aiden adds, "Queen Mable chooses evil, whatever her reason. That is what she has nurtured, and she con- tinues to take that path. For her, it's not about right or wrong, I don't think. It's just about survival." He looks across me at Malor, and the two males’ eyes meet.