Wildest Dreams

by Faith Ellis

  "Let him go, and I'll give you back your essence." My voice booms in the hollow space. Erek's head snaps to- ward me.

  Mable's pale face falls. "What did you say?" She sneers.

  Staring Mable down, pulling that fire up, something feels different, more intense than I have ever felt be- fore. "You feel weaker, don't you?"

  Mable's eyes narrow onto me, but she doesn't an- swer. She doesn't need to; I see it in her face, in the heaviness of her shoulders.

  "Let Aiden go safely, and I'll give it back to you." "How?" she asks through clenched teeth.

  My chin lifts. "I have a way; you’ll have to take my word for it."

  "Interesting." Her eyes narrow, boring into mine as she taps a long, burgundy-painted nail to her lips. "Al-

  right, very well. But I want my essence first. And then I'll release your love."

  "No games, no tricks, Mable. Say it straight."

  She laughs softly. "Of course. Restore my essence in full, and I will release Aiden safely, and no harm will come to him. He's free to leave after."

  I search for an underlying meaning, but I cannot find any. I give a quick nod. "You have to drop your walls for me to usher it back to you."

  "Ah ah." She waves a finger. "First your word, pet." Her smile is sly.

  "I will restore your essence." She glares. "In full," I add.

  Her barriers lower. The feeling of my power builds inside me, stronger than I have experienced before. Tapping into my essence, I reach out with everything I have, feeling for her and that deep, dark, inky place of her essence. I do restore her essence, but I intertwine my own with it, shooting fire and darkness straight into her to light my way this time. Sinking into her dark pit, I latch onto the rest of her slimy existence. I yank with every ounce of strength I have, pulling it, tearing it from her being.

  In another dimension, I can hear her shrieking in pain. I know she isn't herself; she is weak from my ear- lier ventures where I delved through her oily shaft of blackness without her knowledge. It has left her fee- ble but still fighting. She lashes out at me. Ice runs over my body, and a tug pulls at my core as Mable fights back. Outside of myself, I can hear Erek's shout-

  ing, metal-on-metal scraping, and the clang of chains. Boots dance across the tiles in a lethal dance of life or death.

  Flames shoot through my core, pushing against Mable's crushing ice. Her wails as my fire burns her fill my ears, and her putrid gloom retreats from my body. My focus remains on that darkness, nudging it loose and cradling it to my chest. Running feet echo from the throne room as one pair retreats and the other pur- sues. Darkness consumes me when I find a release, and then emptiness.

  In the throne room, Mable falls to the hard floor, eyes closed and completely still. Aiden lies just a few feet from her, the iron chains severed and sitting near his side. Bruises still play across his skin, and the stab from the spike is still open and bleeding.

  Erek's boots pound back into the room. "Jamal ran. I lost him." He nods to two Elites near the door, lying unconscious or dead, but I don’t see any blood. "They tried to run too, but I was able to get to them first. What happened with Mable?" He crouches by her side cautiously.

  "I'm not sure. I think something is wrong." He comes to my side. "Are you okay?"

  "I think I may have her essence, but it feels off. Something dark—this gross, squirming presence is in me, Erek." My hands shake.

  He watches me carefully as I drop to my knees. The darkness hikes up inside my belly, like a cat hissing and ready to pounce. I reach for it, reaching like I would

  for the fire in my core. Mable flashes through my mind, and the version of myself in the Corridor of Reflection bubbles up too. Far away, Erek and Aiden are calling out to me, but I can't understand what they're saying.

  The darkness climbs up my throat, the sliminess burning a thick path like tar as it spews out of my mouth and onto the tiles. After I vomit it all, it bubbles on the floor, sizzling as it slowly seeps between the fine cracks and disappears.

  Erek has his arms wrapped around me and says my name over and over. I spit, trying to get the disgusting, sour taste out of my mouth.

  "Andryad, are you okay? What happened?" Erek's voice is calm, his arms, steady. I search inside. Only my fire curls in my core and runs through my veins. The dark images no longer dance through my mind as I wipe my mouth with my sleeve. My entire body shakes.

  Aiden shoves Erek out of the way and grabs my arms. His skin is clammy and pale. His green eyes are brighter. "An," he breathes.

  "Aiden!" I croak. "Oh, Aiden, I was certain you were dead. I mourned you, I took out my betrothal stone." Snuggling down into the crook between his neck and shoulder, I sob. "I'm so sorry, I thought if I could put it behind me, it might give me the strength to focus on defeating Mable rather than my grief."

  His broad hands smooth over my back, and he leans in to plant kisses on the top of my head. "Darling, it's

  alright. I'm here now. I cannot even begin to imagine what you have been through."

  My head shoots up to stare into his eyes. "Me? What about you? Oh, you look awful, what did she do to you?"

  Erek comes back toward us. One of his arms wraps around Aiden's waist to steady him, but Aiden appears to be quickly improving.

  A smile spreads on Aiden's face, warming my heart. "Nothing I couldn't handle. Blasted irons so I couldn't heal; otherwise, beatings here and there, but all I could think about was finding my way back to you."

  My head falls, and heaviness returns to my heart. "Aiden, she—" Tears claw at my throat, breaking me off. Aiden's eyes soften, and I know he understands what I can't say. Erek remains quiet as Aiden shifts out of his support, standing fully on his own. Bowing at the waist, Erek angles to stand by the doors, allowing us

  privacy.

  "Malor was held near me." His eyes take on a faraway look as he recalls the memory. "I'm not sure exactly what happened, what they did to him. I couldn't—" He stops to take a breath. The suffering he witnessed of our friend is eating at him. It is obvious in the slump of his shoulders and the hard swallow of his throat. "The irons made me so sick, they prevented my powers. I couldn't save Malor. When they drug him out, I had this feeling he wouldn't come back." He rubs a hand down his face.

  "It wasn't your fault. Aiden, I watched him die. If anyone failed him, I did. I tried to stop it, but then they secured me, and I couldn't. They mutilated him." I bury my face in my hands and weep as Aiden slides his arms around me. His tears run down his cheek pressed against my forehead, and that breaks open a new wave of tears from me to see his vulnerability in this way. But the tears that fall aren't from a sense of sadness; they come from the fury at everything Mable did, everything she took. I glance over Aiden's shoul- der to look at her unmoving body. It has already begun deteriorating back into the dirt and ash from which it came. Where is the satisfaction from her demise? I rub at my chest; it feels empty. She didn't suffer nearly enough.

  Aiden takes my hand and leads us to the doors where Erek waits. Erek straightens as we approach, and Aiden demands, "Gather the other warriors. Inform them their queen has fallen and that I, prince of the Second Seasons Court, son of Mable, am now their king."

  Erek bows low. "Yes, Your Majesty." He turns and strolls out to fulfill his ruler's request. Aiden smiles at me, and I nod as we step out of the throne room to- gether.

  Chapter 27 Andryad

  A table of ice runs the length of the board room and is surrounded by stiff-backed chairs with plush seats all around. A large window looks out over the city be- low. The day is cloudy and gray. Aiden is seated at the head of the table, leaning back precariously, balancing on the back two legs of the chair. Concentration has his brow gathered in the middle, and the crown of ice adorning his head is skewed. It's a far simpler crown than Mable's piece of work. His is a simple structure of ice that only sits on his head.

  "That could've gone better, I think." He stands, smoothing out his cloak and throwing it over the clasps at his s
houlders.

  "You did well. It's going to take some time for the court to adjust and accept. Remember, this court was under Mable's reign for centuries; there are going to be pushbacks to change. You can’t really think that giv- ing the redcaps their own land is a good idea." A fur shawl is snug over my gown and protects me against the snow floating through the room.

  He slams his fist against the wall. It makes me jump. This is a side of himself he usually hides. Although he is the Second Seasons Court’s rightful heir, the court was not keen on his announcement revealing Mable's death and his acceptance of the ice crown on his head. Immediately following the news, they roared in the streets, and warriors swarmed to rally them and gain control over the situation. The Elite got the upper hand quickly; we soon established control, but we know it's not over. That was only the beginning.

  "What if they disagree with the new laws I set?" Aiden asks.

  "They will listen to you. You are their king. And you can change their minds, Aiden, help guide them to see things differently. They’ll see you are the kind of king who honors your promises for all fae and they will learn to trust you." I reach for his hands, and he takes them, pulling me into his chest. His lips press warmly to my forehead.

  "It'll be more influential when we marry and you're here with me."

  "Aiden…" I pull out of his embrace. My eyes meet his, and my fingers twitch. "That might need to be put on hold for a while."

  "What do you mean?" His chin dips.

  "I mean, we've both been through so much recently. I need to focus all my attention on getting back to the First Court and letting them know they have their ruler now. We need to fix things there, reestablish

  order—"

  "And we will." He cuts me off. "But this court is go- ing to need to see that side of you too."

  My mouth opens just as the doors do, and Erek clears his throat to announce his presence. We turn to him as worry fills my head. The First Court needs to be my main focus. They've been alone far too long and may not be aware of everything that happened. Cer- tainly, Aiden can understand this. If not, I'm not sure how this will work out.

  Erek pounds a fist over his heart. "Your Highness, the Folk have all been calmed and contained at this point. I issued new orders to my guards with little pushback. I thought Her Majesty might want to leave for her court immediately, so I requested a couple of males to prepare two pegasuses for someone to escort you, my queen." He bows low in my direction.

  "Thank you, Erek." My hand falls lightly on his arm. "I truly appreciate that."

  "Nonsense." Aiden says. "An can stay with me."

  I face Aiden. "We just discussed this, Aiden. My court needs me. They need guidance and healing. And I need time away from here. I can't sleep; I've barely been eating."

  "So you're leaving me?" Erek stills at Aiden's tone.

  "For now. Surely you understand, this exactly what we fought for: to get me back there as soon as possi- ble."

  "Chasal, can you leave us?"

  "No." My voice is firm. "Erek will escort me to my home. He's the only one I trust."

  Aiden runs a hand over his face. He looks better. Sleep finds him at night. He doesn't struggle with the nightmares that haunt me as soon as everything goes black. "An, if you walk out of here, what will my Folk think?"

  "Frankly, Aiden, I don't care what those Folk think right now. I don't trust them. My priorities lie with where my parents left off, with rebuilding their legacy. I need to be present. It is my duty to be there."

  "Is there anything I can do to make you stay? You could just send word to your court of what's happened and that you'll be returning soon."

  I scoff. "Absolutely not."

  Aiden reaches behind his back and offers out his hand. "Don't you care about those who need you, An? Don't you care that I need you?"

  My heart drops as I look at the dagger in his out- stretched hand. My dagger with the rubies, the dagger Malor gave me so long ago. Malor—tears choke me. Will I ever be able to think about him and not feel my chest tighten?

  I step forward and carefully take the dagger from Aiden's hand, brushing my fingers along his palm. His skin is cold, and I resist the urge to shiver. The dagger is a familiar weight, and somehow, it comforts me, makes me strong. My eyes lift back to Aiden. He's wait- ing.

  My voice is low but firm. "All I care about are those who need me. Right now, my court needs me more than you do, Aiden."

  The clouds outside part slightly, and light peeks through, shining through the window and warming my face. Mable’s enchantment is finally dissolving, and for the first time in centuries, the Second Court can see the sun.

  "You have to be a leader to your own Folk, and I need to be a leader to mine. They're scared. And I know you probably are too, and so am I. But it's our duty to show them courage and guidance and restore their livelihood and safety."

  Aiden's jaw clenches. That is clearly not the re- sponse he wants from me.

  "Erek, if you don't mind?" Erek’s eyes bounce to Aiden, who turns his back on both of us and looks out the large window. The captain stretches his arm out for me to exit the room. I clench the dagger in my hand and walk out with Erek on my heels.

  The halls feel the same, cold and quiet, but now they also have an eeriness to them with far too many memories to haunt me. My steps slow to fall back to Erek’s side. His eyes are kind as they glance at me.

  "How could he not understand why I don't want to be here? It's suffocating me. It's as though I'm drown- ing or still being tortured." My admittance burns my throat.

  "My Queen, you’re right. You belong back in the First Court. They need you. The king will understand eventually." He pauses. "You need to heal too."

  His eyes are heavy on me as we pass through the foyer. The spell on the air has been broken. It's crisp, a sharp scent of smoke and hints of citrus. Two elegant pegasuses stand a few yards ahead, bareback and reined. Their heavy, feathered wings beat with impa- tience as one shakes her thick mane in agitation, gold highlights catching the dim sun. They don't like being still too long and are getting desperate to stretch their wings.

  I turn to Erek. "I have to do something first, Erek." He looks at me, his eyes full of understanding.

  We walk a few yards away. The snow is but a light dusting. It seems odd to do this here, but it doesn't make sense to do it anywhere else either. Against a large pine tree, I plunge the dagger into the earth. It gives with my force and sinks deeply, all the way to the hilt. The cold seeps through my knees as I kneel in front of it and clasp my hands in my lap. The cold dampness seeps through my gown as I search for the words.

  Erek places a hand on my shoulder. "Take your time. I'll be over there." He points to our mounts, and I watch him as he goes, moving swiftly across the grounds.

  I breathe deeply. "Oh, Malor." I whisper. Immedi- ately, tears choke me again. I sniff and rub my nose on my sleeve, clenching my eyes shut. "I miss you. You were supposed to do this with me." I sigh. "Don't worry,

  though, I'll make sure our Folk are taken care of. I swear it. Everything you died to protect, it won't be in vain, my dear friend." I kiss my fingers and press them to the hilt of the dagger.

  Shadows build and gather in front of my eyes, and I leap to my feet, reaching for a knife in my boot. The smoky gray shadows solidify into a handsome fae male with dark features, a strong jaw, and loose, severely straight black hair as fine as silk.

  I tilt my head. "You. What do you want?" The shadow faery from Mable's horrendous party. Why is he here?

  He smiles seductively as he shrugs. "I told you to come and find me. I thought maybe you'd forgotten."

  "Or maybe I just didn't want to." I bare my teeth as Erek races toward me. The shadow faery glances in his direction, and he freezes, midstride, arm raised, bran- dishing his sword. My jaw falls open before turning my attention back to the shadow faery. "Who are you?"

  "Queen Andryad—you are queen now, correct?" "Not officially," I admit.

  "Tec
hnicalities. I offer my services. You may lower your weapon, I've no wish to harm you. If I did, you would've been dead before the hilt of your dagger pierced the earth moments ago."

  His eyes are striking. It's as though they can see into my very soul. His shadows swirl around him in an eerie outline.

  "I'll ask you again: Who are you?" I glance at Erek, still unmoving but otherwise safe.

  The shadow faery sighs and steps closer to me. I refuse to back down.

  "Some call me Bezaleel, but you can just call me Baz." He flashes a grin of straight, perfect teeth.

  "Baz. What is it you want?"

  "You, First Court queen, have darkness in you," he whispers.

  My skin tingles.

  "I can help you use it."

  My eyes narrow. "I don't have darkness."

  "Oh," he purrs, "you do. You took it from the fallen queen of the Second Court. It's still swimming around, mixing with your essence. I can smell it on you." He tilts his head.

  "I don't feel it. You're mistaken. And even so, I wouldn't want anything to do with it."

  His shadows dance around him slowly. "You'll change your mind. And when you do"—he grabs my hand and slips something cool into my palm—"call for me."

  His shadows grow, enveloping him completely, and then he's gone. I open my palm to find what was once my beautiful opal stone, now totally black. Curious. A solid weight falls, and there’s a rushing of feet as Erek races to me.

  "What happened? Are you okay?" His voice is ur- gent as his eyes assess, searching me for damage.

  There's no point in worrying him over nothing. I don't feel the darkness in me anymore. Not like when I first separated it out of Mable. The faery—Baz—he is