Wildest Dreams

by Faith Ellis

  She doesn't acknowledge my defiance with any- thing more than a tight, bloodstained smile as she rises and strides over to me, Jamal directly behind her. He wraps the iron chains around my limbs and ties them

  to the posts. They bite and seep into my body, under the skin, searing my soul. I grit my teeth and force my- self out of my body into a dream fully within my power and creation.

  With every scorching piece of metal that touches my skin, I imagine a soft, warm breeze blowing across my face. Running into my mother's arms as she wel- comes me and hugs me tight and inhaling her lavender scent. Each time Mable shoves splinters underneath my fingernails, making them throb and bleed, I dream of running my hands through Aiden's dark, soft hair. When the acid, with a smell so sharp it singes my nos- trils, eats away at the skin on my legs, only to be re- peated again and again, I pretend that Malor and I are playing in the ocean. Splashing each other with the salty water before he threatens to call out to the sirens. The salt gets in our hair, making it stiff and dry, and in our mouths, making us sputter and then laugh.

  Every drop of blood, every ounce of pain, has me forcing myself to remember the people I've lost and gives me the strength to search in the darkness for Mable's presence. I no longer hear my own screams as I transfix on my task, but they're there. The rawness in my throat proves it.

  I feel her, cold and murky like the bottom of a lake in the wintertime. Her essence doesn't glow like my own. It is a shadowy pit filled with a bubbling black slime, like it's been corrupted. Feeling for it, a pulsa- tion tells me I have finally found it. I latch on with all my might and pull as hard as I can. It is surrounded by

  a gray haze among the rest of the darkness, making it stick out more the closer I get.

  I drink it in slowly, like sipping on the best faery wine. It fills my nostrils and makes me gag and cringe with the way it feels, and it slides into me. She's trying to barricade it; the gray haziness should have thrown me off track. But I found it. She is still strong, and her power is undeniable. Her essence reminds me of a mas- sive black snake, like a cobra, thick and poised.

  The extra essence causes my body to heal faster like before, but Mable continues to mutilate it, burning my skin and breaking my bones. When she slams some- thing solid on my knees, the bones crack! I come back into myself with a gasp and a scream and struggle against the pain of mending bone. She watches me closely, assessing me. Her skin is paler, and her lips have lost their color, even beneath the makeup. She blinks, trying to gather herself, and holds out an arm that Jamal reaches for as she leans on him for support to rise.

  "That's enough for today," she says quietly. "Get this mess cleaned up." With that, she stands, the doors opening, and she releases Jamal's arm and smooths out her gown. Raising her head, she briskly stomps out of the room, her dress rustling over the floor be- hind her. As my body continues healing, the captain walks in and scoops me into his arms. He has a look I can't quite place. His eyes hold mine for a long time. It makes me uncomfortable and sends shivers up my spine. It is so rare that he actually looks at me, but I

  can't think around the pain, so I close my eyes, wel- coming the blackness.

  By the time Chasal gets to my cell, I am regaining consciousness. I lift my head at the familiar clank of the metal locks and the door banging as it slides open. A fresh, thick stack of blankets occupies one corner of the cell along with a pitcher of water and some bread and cheese nestled on a tray.

  "You need to eat to keep up your strength." His voice is low and stern as he sets me on top of the blankets. They are itchy but warm, and I snuggle into them. My hand reaches for his own gloved fingers as he turns to leave. "Why do you stay here? I can see it in your eyes. You're not truly loyal to her." My shoulders pull together as I stretch out my muscles. He tenses momentarily and glances down at my hand holding onto his. Slowly he peels away my fingers, like a child’s whose grubby hands are clinging to candy it shouldn't have.

  "What's that matter to you?" His voice is strained. "Because it's what keeps you from killing her in her

  sleep."

  "Maybe you're mistaken. You don't know anything about me."

  My eyebrows rise. "I don't believe you are devoted to her. I've watched you." I take a deep breath before continuing. "You care about other Folk. You care about Carla."

  Chasal's eyes soften a little, and he almost looks ashamed.

  "Eat," Chasal demands before he turns his back on me and walks through the cell door, slamming it shut. It rattles back into place, the locking mechanisms in motion.

  I feel much better; my brain realizes my body is safe, and the pain no longer lingers. Reaching up behind his head, Chasal unhooks his mask and slips off his gloves, tucking them into the pocket of his breeches. Standing strong, I call out at Chasal, "What did she do to your sister? Does she have your niece?"

  He turns back toward me, and his eyes look as if a flame has been ignited behind them. He glances at my tunic, the fabric torn, barely concealing my skin be- neath. A shadow crosses his face at the blood covering my skin and the shreds of cloth. He comes closer to the bars, his footfalls heavy, at the same moment I run to the cell door.

  "That's it, isn't it?" I prod. "She has your niece, and you're forced to serve her." My hands clench the cold iron bars even as they burn through my skin, leaving angry red welts. I grit my teeth against it.

  His lip curls. "You know nothing about me." He stands towering on the other side of the iron door. "You'd be better off keeping your mouth shut. That’ll get you into more trouble than I can help you with."

  My face falls. "What do you mean?"

  When he doesn't answer, I push on. "I can help you. If you tell me, if you help me, I can help you find your sister."

  He sneers, but it doesn't match his eyes. "My sister is dead."

  He would be so handsome if malice weren't so deeply etched in his face. His eyes, his soul. My heart weeps for him.

  "There was no ruler to protect her or us."

  "Do you know who I am? If you help me, if I were your queen—"

  "But you are not!" Chasal presses closer to that iron gate. He clenches his jaw against the proximity of the iron, the pain he must be in from it. "The way I see it, you’ll rot in here as the iron seeps through your veins and kills you slowly if she doesn't kill you first. Will you not? Do you see what other choices you have?"

  I laugh at the irony. "You think these iron bars will keep me held for eternity?" My shoulders lift. "You are mistaken, Captain. And when I get out of here, Mable is first on my list, but I will come for all those who’ve had a hand in her games and stood by while innocent Folk were murdered."

  He crosses his arms.

  "I'll ensure you end up in a holding cell and your family is hunted so they can join you," I taunt him.

  He reaches through the iron bars, careful not to touch them, as he grabs me by the wrists, lifting them off the bars. "Don't you dare threaten my family. You can't make assumptions about things you know noth- ing about, Andryad."

  My gaze remains cool and level. Then a jolt shoots through my veins, almost blinding me with the inten-

  sity. Chasal jumps back, releasing me as if burned by my skin, but surely that jolt was not from my fire. I nearly fall, as Chasal released me so quickly, but I find my balance. My face contorts in confusion as I study my hands, flipping them over.

  What happened?

  My chest heaves, and when I look up, Chasal is gone. A groan of frustration escapes me, and I trudge back to the corner to curl into the blankets.

  The iron cell is zapping my energy; my eyelids are heavy, and my bones feel weak under my skin and muscle. Something slinks around in my core. I prod in- side for my fire, but there's only a slight flicker, and even that snuffs out quickly. Outlining that, in the shadows of my center, I can sense it: this oiliness. It almost reminds me of dread, the feeling you get when your stomach drops out from under you.

  The evening finds me alone with my thoughts—and my guilt—eating away
at me. That jolt between us, it wasn’t painful, but it was intense, electric. I don't know what Chasal's ability is, but maybe I pissed him off enough to make him consider laying me out right then and there. At the last moment, had he reconsidered? Maybe out of fear of what Mable would do if she'd found he had played with her toy. I touched a nerve with him; I was just goading him to open up to me, but I went about it all wrong. My head falls heavily into my hand.

  Maybe Chasal is right. Maybe I will simply rot away in here or die when Mable completes whatever magic

  she's using to rip my essence from me. Then their deaths will all be for nothing, and I will have failed. And what will Mable do then with that kind of power? I can't even imagine. The possibilities would be endless. She would enslave, slaughter, control everything, every realm. I can't sit by and allow that to happen. I won't. Chasal is wrong. I do have another choice: I can fight. I will fight. Even if I die trying, I will give it my all, and I swear, I will fight like hell to take her and as many of her followers down with me.

  Chapter 25 Chasal

  The room is cramped, with just enough space for a bed I barely fit in. It’s drab and poorly lit with a single sconce on the dark brown walls, which makes it feel even smaller. A short desk takes up space at the foot of the bed along with a wooden stool.

  My fists clench; I count to three and release them. She set me off, uncontrollably so. She got under my skin by questioning my family, threatening them, to rile me. She has no right. She knows nothing about what I’ve lost to Mable and nothing of what I’ve had to sacrifice.

  And then there was that touch when I grabbed her wrists. My breath rattles in my chest, and my stomach turns thinking about my audacity to dare touch my queen. I acted so foolishly. She would have been right to end methere. She still has that right, when the time comes. I’ll ask her forgiveness for my actions, but I do not deserve it. My mind keeps going back to what- ever pulsed through her and into me like a searing fire. Flashes soared through my mind, strange images of us intimately.

  Mates.

  It was impossible. Who was I to be her mate? No, it had to be something else. The Folk can have many loves, unlimited lovers, but ultimately only one mate. One true mate created special for them. Mates are part of one another. Equal and connected in every unimag- inable way.

  Why hadn't I noticed it before? Why hadn't I felt it?

  The gloves.

  Right. My eyes study the wooden ceiling. Every time I touched her previously, I was wearing my leathers. That was the first time I had skin-to-skin contact with her. Then there was that jolt, that snap! when the mat- ing bond clicked into place upon our skin truly meet- ing for the first time.

  But how could someone of my status be worthy of the queen? Would she even accept me? A fae female of her position. She had been betrothed to a prince, for Nature’s sake. How would I even approach this situa- tion? Did she feel it? She had to, but is she aware of what it means?

  I pace back and forth, wearing the rug thin with each angry line I walk. My boot soles will need an early repair if I keep it up. How is this to be? This is dangerous territory. As if being mated to a princess, no, a queen wasn't enough, she is Mable's prisoner. If Mable finds out... Mable has never forced any ad- vances on me, but I’ve a lingering feeling that I moved up within her ranks quickly due to more than my lead- ership and combat skills. I’ve always felt deep within

  my gut that she has a possessiveness with me. She just hasn't made it clearly known yet.

  If she finds out her enemy is my mate, I’ve a feeling Mable will rip Andryad apart, ignoring her essence, just to be rid of her. The queen’s jealousy isn’t a pretty thing. It’s ruthless and ugly. I'd seen it before in a married aristocrat whom Mable was vying for. When the wife forbid her husband to engage further with the queen, Mable froze them alive. Mable figured if she couldn't have him, no one could. And what would Aiden have thought? Malor? It's a betrayal to them both.

  As I’m calming myself, a light knock sounds at my door. Carla frowns at me and steps inside, brushing past. Her horns are dusted in gold, and her freckles are stark.

  "We can't keep standing by and doing nothing, Erek. We should’ve stepped in before now. What, with Malor..." Her voice trails off as tears brim in her large eyes.

  Carla takes space on the bed as I prop up one leg on the stool. "We couldn't, Carla, we can't take that risk. We all were informed of the possibilities, likely out- comes. We all decided to take this chance, Malor in- cluded. Everyone who’s standing against Mable is well aware of the risks involved."

  "What if our queen hates us?" Her bottom lip quiv- ers and more tears threaten in her eyes.

  "When it's time, she'll understand."

  Silence lulls on, but her gaze weighs heavily, her eyes evaluating. "What happened?"

  My hands run through my hair, a nervous tick she knows well by now. "It's nothing."

  Her steps are light as she crosses the short distance and rests a hand on my arm. Heat and concern radiate through her touch. It reminds me of the gesture I often used to comfort my sister when she was scared or hurt.

  Essabella and I grew up close. It was rare for Folk to have more than one child, especially close in age, but we were. I was older only by fifty years. We did every- thing together, and she confided in me and looked up to me. I was supposed to protect her always. Guilt and fury boil in my belly. A constant reminder of my fail- ures I doubt will ever go away. Part of me doesn't want it to go away; it keeps her in my memory.

  Carla pushes again. "Tell me." "Something…interesting happened." She waits patiently.

  "I grabbed her."

  Her eyes widen in horror as her hand falls away. "You did what? Why on earth would you do something like that?"

  My palms lift in submission. "I didn't mean to ex- actly—she prodded about Essabella and asked if Mable has Aine."

  "Your niece? Why would our queen ask about your niece?" Her eyes change as understanding dawns.

  "What'd you say?" I ask accusingly.

  "I may have mentioned something about Essabella and Aine." She rushes to add, "But not in detail at all. She was questioning our relationship."

  "She was digging for information, I'm certain."

  Carla nods. "What’d she do? You didn't hurt her, did you? She's already been through so much." Fresh tears bloom in her brown eyes.

  "No, Carla," I assure her, patting her hands. "Well, what, then?"

  "There was a…disturbance when my skin touched hers." I can't meet Carla's gaze, so I look down at the fraying rug.

  "What kind of disturbance?"

  "A clicking of sorts, like a zap." The look on her face tells me she still doesn't understand. I can't imagine anyone could guess. After all, she's a queen, and I'm not even an aristocrat. "Carla, she's my mate."

  Her face falls, and her entire body goes limp. I reach out, ready to steady her. Carla steps away and props herself against a wall. "How is this possible?" she whis- pers.

  I shake my head. "I have no idea." "Are you certain?"

  "Pretty sure, yes." "Does she know?"

  "I think she felt it, but I don't think she understands what it was."

  Carla thinks. "She did warm to you fairly quickly, as though she was subconsciously drawn to trust you. It would make sense, I guess."

  "But it looks like I am her captor. How will she ever forgive me? Not to mention I grabbed her."

  Carla's eyes soften as they meet mine. "Erek, she'll understand when she knows the truth. She won't blame you. And you can't blame her." She continues gently, "You know if Aiden hadn't taken her away, she would have died too. She wasn't ready then. She couldn't have saved your family. You know that, right?" "I do, I know that." I sit down on the stool, weariness settling over me. "You think she's ready now?" I arch

  an eyebrow in her direction.

  A smile lights Carla's face. "Oh, I think so." She lifts her small shoulders. "Plus, she has us."

  Chapter 26 Andryad

  The door slides
open with a metallic clang as I sit up, bright-eyed and refreshed despite the iron cell. Mable's essence must be doing something good for me. My fire even burns a little in my core.

  How she is feeling? Is she feeling weaker? I don't feel as though she's taken any part of my essence. Maybe my ability is protecting me. Or maybe I'm better at hiding mine like Aiden once mentioned I am with my aura.

  I make a promise to take everything she has. I will break her. Then her reign will forfeit to me, and I will purge her court before rebuilding the First Seasons Court and bridging the two together. Although Aiden is no longer here, his dream can still become a reality.

  I rub the sleep from my eyes and burn the embers in my belly. They warm me slightly in the icy cell. The smells of bread and sugar waft toward my nose, sig- naling a response from my stomach. I had not realized how famished I am.

  His scent hits me next: earthy, like freshly tilled soil or the smell the rain leaves behind. Chasal stands

  over me and kneels by my side to set down a tray of fresh buttered bread, mixed berries with a sugar glaze, and a cup of hot tea, steam rising in tendrils. I breathe deeply, savoring their scents as my insides tingle with pleasure. The captain draws back a little but remains kneeling, watching me. I watch him carefully too.

  What is that in his eyes? Ah, yes: regret. His eyes drop to my wrists.

  Something radiates off him, but I cannot place it. The previous night’s events have me mulling over questions. Chasal's ability continues to be a mystery, but something happened last night when his skin touched mine.

  "Captain, I'd appreciate if you'd stop staring at me." His face is freshly shaven. His hair is tied back. It shines as bright as the sun and makes my heart ache for home.