“There’s some books on them over there if you’d like to learn more.” Marlowe jerked her head to the corner.
Spotting the lazily discarded pile, Faythe walked over to them, brushing off dust and soot to read the titles. One in particular caught her attention. Grabbing the old leather book, she held it up.
“Are Spirits a favorite topic of yours too?” she asked, flashing the title: The Forgotten Goddess.
People sometimes referred to the Spirits of the Realm as Goddesses. They were supposed to be the forces that kept the world in balance to stop the species from destroying each other. But with the war and destruction that had raged for centuries, it amazed Faythe how people could still believe in such nonsense.
Marlowe peered up from her blade. “Ah, that’s a good one, actually. You can borrow it if you’d like. Did you know, some people believe there was a third Spirit? She was supposedly cast out of the realm over a thousand years ago. People speculate why, but no one really knows.” There was genuine passion in her tone.
Faythe scoffed. “I don’t believe in any of it. Spirits, Gods, and Goddesses—where are they now, when we actually need them?” she said, putting the book back down.
Marlowe huffed at her. “Believing or not is irrelevant. It’s a good read. Or do you not know how to enjoy a story?”
Faythe scowled at her. “Fine. I’ll read it, and I’ll give you my informed reasons for why it’s all absurd.” She swiped the book, tucking it under her arm. “If you need me, I’ll be out front, fully engrossed in the wonders of the Spirits.” She drawled the last word.
“Don’t mock them, Faythe. You never know which ones are listening,” Marlowe sang as she passed.
Faythe only rolled her eyes and pulled a seat out front to bask in the sun. At least she had something to pass the time while she waited for Marlowe to finish up for the day.
About halfway through the book, Faythe cursed Marlowe for being right. It was captivating, to say the least, and she found she couldn’t turn the pages fast enough. The feel of the aged, worn leather binding in her palms and the sweet, musky scent of old paper rekindled a lost passion for her favorite pastime. It had been years since she’d picked up a book, as it was something she had enjoyed with her mother, but reading now brought her comfort instead of sadness. Her excitement for new stories sparked again.
She read various different tales on the mythical appearances of Aurialis, the Spirit of Life and Goddess of the Sun, and her sister Dakodas, the Spirit of Death and Goddess of the Moon, over the past millennia. But it was the legends of the long-forgotten third Spirit Marvellas, the Spirit of Souls and Goddess of the Stars, that took precedence as the tales Faythe found the most interesting.
One of her favorite theories about the lost Spirit was a tale dating back nearly one thousand years ago when she had vanished. The legend depicted she had fallen in love with a fae warrior and, with her sisters’ help, relinquished her powers and titles to be bound in the same form as her lover. She still didn’t believe any of it to be truth or real history, but regardless, Faythe found herself moved by that particular story. Perhaps foolishly, she hoped such a love could exist in her world.
Alternatives to Marvellas’ disappearance were not so poetic. Some theorized she was consumed by her sisters for her powers or she broke her sacred duty and was cast back to her own realm.
A familiar voice pulled Faythe from the fantasy. “How is it?”
She peeled her eyes from the captivating text and had to blink rapidly to refocus from reading for so long. She took in the sight of Marlowe: clean-faced, apron off, and leaning against the wall with crossed arms.
“Is it that time already?” Faythe asked, not realizing how fast time had gotten away from her.
Marlowe smirked. “I’ll take that as a thumbs-up.” She pushed off the wall, grabbing her cloak and folding it over her arm.
It had become a regular thing for Marlowe to join them most evenings. The three of them had pretty much become inseparable over the past couple weeks. It surprised Faythe how well they got along considering her lack of previous female friends, but everything was so easy with Marlowe. If Jakon was her partner in crime, Marlowe would be her confidante in conspiracy.
The blacksmith had also expressed her appreciation of their company, telling them of her isolated days spent in her father’s workshop and how her evenings had been spent building on her already impressive knowledge through reading. It put Faythe to shame sometimes when she thought of how smart her friend was in comparison.
“Do you mind if I borrow it?” she asked as she stood, closing the book with a satisfying thud.
Marlowe’s irises twinkled. “Of course! I knew you’d like it.”
Faythe fought her sheepish smile as Marlowe looped her arm through hers and pulled her into a lazy stroll down the street.
Chapter 15
Faythe and Marlowe picked up some meat pies and bread on their way back to the hut after the blacksmith’s shift and were sat at the kitchen table eating when Jakon sauntered through the door. He flashed them both a grin before excusing himself to freshen up after his day on the farm.
When they were all together again, he greedily tucked in. “I was thinking we could take a walk down to the harbor tonight,” he suggested to no one in particular.
It sounded like more of a romantic thing to do, and Faythe was about to exclude herself from the invitation when Marlowe cut in.
“Actually, I thought maybe we could all go to the square tonight. I’ve yet to see Faythe in action.”
Faythe perked up at the mention, and Jakon chuckled. “You two in a sparring session? That’s something I’d pay good money to see.”
Both women flashed him a devious smile.
“We’ll need to stop back at the blacksmiths to get your sword,” Faythe said.
Marlowe shook her head and jerked it to the side. Faythe’s gaze followed, landing on the blade that lay over her cloak in the corner. She had been too caught up in her storybook to even notice Marlowe was equipped with the sword when they left. As she looked the woman over now, she registered her casual attire of a fitted tunic and pants in place of her usual cotton gown.
Reading her exact thoughts, her friend smirked. “That book really took you away for a while.”
“You can read?” Jakon teased.
She scowled at the remark and tossed a piece of bread at his mocking laughter. He caught it and leaned over to tousle her hair. Batting his arm away, Faythe rose and stuck her tongue out at him, then she eagerly skipped to retrieve Lumarias and ready herself for sparring.
No one stopped them on their journey to the square, and mercifully, she’d had no more run-ins with the fae captain since their first unpleasant meeting either.
The two women discarded their cloaks next to Jakon, who took a relaxed, laid-back position on one of the benches. His eyes gleamed with boyish amusement.
They were in the midst of stretching and warming up when they heard a low whistle. All of their attention snapped to where a head of rugged red hair emerged into the square with a feline grin.
“Where was my invite to this magnificent showdown?” Ferris quipped.
Faythe smirked, twisting her sword in her wrist. “I suppose you could do with a few lessons on what a skilled opponent looks like,” she taunted playfully. “Take note.”
“Now, Faythe, everyone knows I let you win, being the gentleman I am.” He bowed slightly in arrogance before throwing himself down beside Jakon.
Faythe’s eyes flashed in challenge. “Perhaps we should put all doubt to rest after this?”
He shifted, deciding whether he should back down or rise to it, and said, “No, thanks. I quite like my balls and don’t feel like losing them tonight.”
“Smart man,” Jakon commented.
Faythe faced Marlowe again. She was flexing her sword between her hands, looking slightly nervous. “It’s been a while,” she admitted, taking up a defensive position.
Faythe took her counter stance. “
If you want me to go easy on you, just say it.”
Marlowe’s eyes twinkled, and with a smug grin, she said, “Never.”
Steel met steel in a ballad of action and combat, every note sending a pulse of energy through Faythe that compelled her to dance in time with each twist and swing of her sword. Nothing focused her more than feeling the clash of her blade against her target. She forgot her two friends who sat as onlookers, tuned out every other sound, and gave herself over to the guidance of her blade as it harmonized her movements. It didn’t matter that it was a match of practice and fun—every time she felt the cold leather hilt of her sword in her palms, it awakened Faythe’s desire to fight, her need to protect, and her want to win.
Marlowe was an excellent opponent and certainly challenged her as good as Jakon did. Faythe brought her sword up once again, halting in a killing strike that had her friend bested for the third time in the half hour they’d been sparring. They were both panting when they called it there and slumped to the ground.
Ferris clapped slow and loud. “What a show indeed, ladies. We could have charged good coin in an arena to have people watch.” He smirked suggestively. “Even more so if you were naked.”
Jakon punched his arm, and Ferris howled his laughter. “Don’t pretend you didn’t think it too,” he said in deviant delight.
Faythe shook her head at their boyish bickering as Marlowe passed a waterskin. She took it, chugging the cool liquid down her burning throat greedily.
“You’re quite the swordswoman,” Marlowe said in admiration.
Faythe beamed at the compliment. “You’re definitely worthy opposition.”
She nodded her appreciation with a smile.
Ferris stood and loudly announced, “Well, if that’s all the action I’m getting tonight, consider me satisfied.” He gave a wolfish grin. “Seriously though, Faythe, you could turn a good profit in The Cave. I happen to work for a man who finds sport in it. I can get you in.”
At the mention of the notorious cave, she stiffened. It was rumored to be below the inn and only accessible by those in the know. An underworld of gambling, violence, and illegal trading, The Cave was a domain of nighttime pleasures for the wealthier members of town and those who foolishly gambled their short earnings, or occasional fae guards who enjoyed betting on humans like dogs.
“Not a chance in rutting damn,” Jakon growled.
Ferris cast him a bored look. “Are you her keeper?”
Jakon was on his feet facing off with him in an instant.
The two women also shot to their feet, Marlowe moving close to Jakon so he wouldn’t swing. Ferris didn’t balk in the slightest, instead choosing to smirk. This only riled Faythe’s stupidly protective friend further.
While Jakon stood a foot taller and packed a bit more muscle, Ferris had a cunning wild side that would make any man think twice before crossing him. Faythe didn’t want to see the outcome of that fight.
“Let’s tone the male-ego dominance bullshit down a notch, shall we?” Faythe cut in. She couldn’t deny Ferris’s offer tempted her a little, if only so she could earn money—decent money—doing something she was actually good at. Even if it was considered unsavory practice. But at risk of having Jakon blow his top, she forced down the urge to inquire about it further. “I’m not exactly welcome at the inn anymore, and I doubt I’d be a match for anyone down there.”
Ferris shrugged casually. “I’ve seen the pathetic talent they choose to show. They’re sloppy brutes who have little actual weapon skill. Trust me, you’d stand a good chance of holding out well.” His eyes flashed to Jakon, who blazed at the thought, then he looked back at Faythe. “And you wouldn’t be going as yourself.” He grinned mischievously. “Think on it. You know where to find me if you change your mind.” Turning on his heel, he strolled away.
“Damned prick,” Jakon muttered after him.
“Let’s go,” Marlowe said sweetly, linking her arm through his to simmer his anger.
It worked, and Faythe was surprised as Jakon looked to her and his face instantly softened. Even she couldn’t calm him down so quickly. With a smile, he allowed Marlowe to lead him over to where she retrieved her cloak and sword, and together, they began the walk home.
Faythe felt a pang of something she wasn’t used to, and the feeling saddened her a little. Jealousy. Of the special thing they had between them that she’d never had before. A closeness. A bond that couldn’t be matched by anyone but a partner…a lover. What she had with Jakon over the ten years they’d known each other was special. She loved him, would give her life for him, but there was never that deeper connection clear between the two souls walking a few paces in front of her.
As if sensing her brooding, Marlowe turned and held her free arm out for Faythe to loop hers around. She gave a small, grateful smile and obliged.
The three of them walked linked together back to the hut, three friends who shared a different kind of life bond. Faythe dared the damned Spirits to try and break it.
When they arrived home, Faythe made her way inside and bid Marlowe good night when Jakon insisted he walk her home. Entering the bedroom, she halted at the item she spotted laying on her bed.
Warily taking it her hands, Faythe held up the familiar-looking iridescent black stone that dangled from a black rope necklace. She didn’t know when Marlowe had secretly left it for her to find or even when she’d found the time to craft it while Faythe was stuck between the pages of The Forgotten Goddess. Still, she smiled at the magestone pendant that had been delicately carved to form a teardrop shape. It glittered beautifully in the moonlight, and Faythe slipped it around her neck, feeling the coolness nip against her bare chest.
With a yawn, she dressed for bed, eager for sleep now her muscles had started to ache from the exertion of her workout with Marlowe. She tried and failed to wait for Jakon to arrive back, feeling her eyelids grow heavy and shut of their own accord. Then she drifted off into darkness.
Chapter 16
That night, Faythe awoke in the usual confines of her subconscious. The mists of white and gold always stunned her; moved without needing her command. She was about to let go and fall into a pit of dark, restful sleep—she never did stay there for long—but she paused as a thought crossed her mind. Maybe it was from reading the soppy love story of Marvellas, or perhaps it was seeing her own two friends engage amorously, but she couldn’t shake a feeling of longing for someone to share such a deep connection with.
It was an embarrassingly foolish thought, and Faythe was about to abandon the idea—but this was her mind. No one was around to watch or judge, and she had yet to try anything with her imagination. She cringed a little at what she was about to do but sighed and closed her eyes anyway.
As she stood there in the dark, Faythe tried to conjure both the image and emotion of what it would be like to have someone touch her; make her pulse race. She wasn’t a complete stranger to such feelings. There was no shortage of young, attractive men in town, and she’d occasionally give in to their innocent flirtations to satisfy her lust. But she wanted more than just sexual desire.
A part of her felt silly as she waited for something to happen. She was about to banish the thought and give up…when she felt it.
A warm breath caressed the length of her neck. She sucked in a sharp breath as the feeling sent a cascade of tingles down her spine, and she tilted her head in response. A strong, muscular force materialized behind her, and then there were hands…trailing down her bare forearms, sending shockwaves through her. It felt so real Faythe leaned into the force.
More… She wanted more.
She could have sworn she heard a soft chuckle right before phantom teeth scraped along her neck in a teasing response. Her heart beat a wild frenzy as desire pooled at her core. Eyes of the brightest sapphire blue pierced through her closed lids, and she snapped them quickly open.
The strong, powerful hands became real flesh as she watched them continue their tender strokes along her bare forearms.
Blood throbbed in her veins, and Faythe wasn’t sure she was even still breathing when she moved to twist out of his grip.
Just as she was about to face the man with the intense dark blue eyes, she recognized the invading force. When she fully turned, her imaginary seducer had vanished, leaving her staring into Nik’s deep green eyes instead from a few meters away.
She couldn’t hide her look of disappointment, especially when her emotions still ran wild from the heated encounter. She wanted desperately to put a face to those sapphire orbs that pulled at something deep within.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
Nik smirked. “I see you’re discovering exactly the kind of things you’re capable of experiencing in here.”
Her cheeks caught fire. “Get out!” She pointed in no particular direction.
His grin only widened. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Faythe, but if you long for release, you need only ask.” His eyes danced with amusement.
She gaped at him. “You’re the last person I would go to for…that.” She cringed as she said it, her blood near boiling from the humiliation.
“Ouch. And here I thought we were starting to become friends.” He held a mocking hand to his heart.
In a flare of anger, she began to push him out of her mind when he said, “Wait.”
She paused, giving him one sentence to convince her not to kick his ass.
“I thought you could use some more lessons on how to use your ability,” he said. “Meet me in the woods?”
She folded her arms. “Like you said, I’m discovering for myself just fine, thanks.”
“That part, yes, but you haven’t learned how to block others.” He gestured to himself as an example. “Or how to control what they see so you don’t get discovered. You also need to learn how to not get yourself discovered in someone else’s head. Another Nightwalker or not, it can be deadly for you if you don’t.”
An Heir Comes to Rise Page 12
