The Riscillius—The Looking Glass?
Was this Marlowe’s new translation of the word? Why had she not thought to share the information? Perhaps Faythe had done too good a job in appearing impassive to the whole thing.
“You’ve been busy,” Faythe commented, waving the paper at her.
Marlowe looked up and shrugged. “Just something to pass the time. I find it interesting.”
She didn’t explain more, which Faythe found strange. Her friend was always enthusiastic about sharing her findings and going off on tangents about strange, wondrous things.
She didn’t press further as the blacksmith quite literally threw herself back into her current piece, bringing the hammer down time and time again with a little more frustration in each swing.
The rest of the day passed agonizingly slow. Both women were headed out of the workshop for home when they froze in their tracks at the figure waiting before them.
“I have come to escort both of you ladies to the equinox ball tonight,” Jakon said with a sheepish smile, fiddling with a plain black mask in his hands.
Faythe let out a small sound and ran for him, not bothering to worry if he was still too upset to accept her embrace. It all melted away when he caught her and returned her hug. The weight of the world lifted from her shoulders.
“I’m so sorry,” she blurted.
He released her and gave her a sad look. “This doesn’t mean I fully forgive you…yet.”
She nodded, understanding it would take time to regain his trust but still overwhelmingly happy he was here. She had missed him more than she imagined.
His eyed darted to Marlowe still standing by the curtain, and Faythe stepped back. Jakon walked over to her and stopped a foot away.
“I’m sorry, Marlowe. I understand you only kept it from me to be a good friend to Faythe, and I can’t fault you for that.” He shot her a glance—because he would have done the same if she’d asked him.
Faythe’s face fell. She hated being the reason they had any kind of divide and vowed to never use either of them like that again.
Marlowe’s answer was a bone-crushing embrace, and at the sight, Faythe’s relief flooded out of her. They had returned to some form of normalcy, though she had a long way to go to prove herself to Jakon.
In that moment, she decided her secrets would not drive a wedge between any of them again. She would find a way to tell them about her abilities, as ludicrous and impossible as they were, and she would pray her friends accepted her as the same person she still was—not view her as the weapon she could become.
Chapter 34
Faythe smoothed down the pleats of her skirts, anxiously awaiting Marlowe and Jakon’s arrival so they could go to the celebrations together.
Her two friends had gone back to the cottage so Marlowe could change since Jakon had already come in his outfit for the ball. Faythe had returned to the hut and now stood in her white floating gown. Its bodice was layered with a feathery texture that matched her eye mask. She had chosen to imitate a swan tonight and had braided the sides of her hair back and added matching feathered white clips to further portray her animal of choice. She fiddled with the mask adorning her face, and then a thought crossed her mind, sending her heart into a gallop.
Would Nik be there tonight?
He had been assigned to patrol the summer solstice, so she imagined there was a good chance he could be at this large event also. It required more fae than usual in case anything got out of hand, what with the streets being filled and foreign vendors stopping in town to sell their wares.
The thought made her suddenly giddy to leave, and she paced to curb her anxiety while she waited for her friends. The last time she saw the fae guard, they hadn’t left on good terms. In fact, that was a light way of putting it. She’d tried to force herself into his thoughts against his will and as good as declared she never wanted to see him again.
Faythe had been wanting to make amends for that night since it happened but was too cowardly to infiltrate his mind at night. The celebrations would offer the perfect opportunity to accidentally run into him, and she would tell him she was sorry and hope for his forgiveness—something she was gaining the habit of doing to everyone around her.
She could live with it if he decided she’d crossed a line and never wanted to speak to her again. She could, but she cursed the stab in her heart at the thought.
The door swung open, and Faythe leaped in excitement as she beheld her friends. Marlowe looked stunning in her turquoise and royal blue gown that matched her mask. She had chosen a peacock and simply glowed as she embodied the creature. Jakon was dressed in mostly black. His sleek mask had a slight point to its nose. A crow. Simple, but he too looked the picture of elegance.
“Look at us!” Marlowe cried cheerfully, glancing between them all.
Faythe grinned, bounding over to loop her arm through Marlowe’s, and they left the hut, emerging onto the bustling streets already thick with revelers in an array of different masks and costumes. Laughter and chatter floated through the air as well as the smells of bonfire and various delicious foods. They stopped to purchase some chocolates and wine before making their way up to the grassy hills where the main entertainment would be.
In the dark of the autumn night, the hills were alight, diffusing the sky with hues of yellow and orange from the tall stakes that burned with passion and fury. People moved around them, some throwing their own sculptures of wood or bits of cloth into the inferno with an added prayer to the Spirits.
Faythe had been subtly scanning the crowds everywhere they went for a certain fae guard but had so far had no luck and was beginning to think her efforts were futile with the amount of people and fae patrol out tonight. Though the fae did stand out as the only ones who were unmasked and in uniform.
They made their way over to a large gathering that had formed around some fire breathers performing dangerous tricks that had everyone transfixed.
“I’ve always wondered how they do that,” Marlowe commented.
Faythe only hummed in agreement. She watched for a while longer before she felt compelled to scan the masses again. Colorful masks were everywhere. Couples danced, children played, women chatted, and then…
She sucked in a breath as her eyes met with a familiar emerald green pair.
He wore a black mask and had his hood up on his cloak, but there was no mistaking him—Nik stared right at her on the edge of the audience to her left. He angled his head, beckoning for her to follow, and then he turned to leave the spectacle.
Faythe looked to her friends who were still immersed in the show. Jakon had his arm lazily draped around Marlowe’s waist.
“I’m going to get more wine. Do you want anything?” she asked.
Marlowe tore her eyes away to answer, “No, I’m good. Meet us right back here?”
She nodded and didn’t hesitate as she turned and pushed her way out of the growing cluster of people. When she was in a more open space, she stopped to scan the mob again but couldn’t see Nik.
“Up the hills.”
From his voice in her head, she knew he had to be close and watching her to be able to project the thought. She twisted her head around, and sure enough, he was standing at the top of the hills. Once she spotted him, he turned and kept walking farther toward the woods. Faythe hastened her pace to catch up, weaving her way past scattered bodies and dodging children who ran through her path. They continued until the clamor was faint and there were no people this far back.
Nik stopped at the tree line and leaned against one, casually folding his arms. “You look very eager to find someone tonight,” he said in greeting when she caught up.
She scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Her cheeks flamed, and he gave her a knowing smirk. Desperate to change the subject, she asked, “You’re not on duty tonight?” as she noted his casual attire beneath his cloak. He didn’t plan to stay long.
Nik didn’t respond straight away. His eyes grazed over her. �
�No, I am not,” he said at last.
Thinning her lips, she was about to cower out, but she blurted, “I’m sorry.” At his surprised look, she continued. “I tried to push into your mind, and I crossed a line. So I’m sorry,” she finished awkwardly, adjusting her mask as her skin grew clammy beneath it.
He laughed, and she gaped at him. “How much sleep have you lost over that?” he teased.
“None! I just thought it would be polite to apologize, you prick.” She turned on her heel to leave but was stopped by his call.
“Wait.”
She paused with her back to him.
“You did try to cross a line, but you didn’t succeed. I understand why you wanted to, but I promise you, Faythe, I had nothing to do with that woman’s death, and I would have stopped it if I could have,” he said sincerely.
She slowly turned to him. She thought she would be the one doing all the apologizing, so she couldn’t hide her surprise at this turn of events. His face spoke volumes too. He was sorry. And all this time, she had tormented herself over what she’d done and would need to atone for.
“You’re different, Nik, from the rest of them,” she said quietly.
His lips curled up. “I don’t know if that’s entirely true.”
“I do.”
He looked at her with an intensity that made her pulse race.
Averting her eyes, she cleared her throat. “What are you doing here tonight?” It was the first diversion that came to mind.
“Am I not allowed to enjoy the celebrations like everyone else?”
She didn’t want to point out that his casual clothing, aside from the mask, suggested he wasn’t here as just another reveler.
“If you came all this way to apologize, consider me flattered.”
His eyes danced beneath his mask. “Maybe I did.” He paused, looking her over again with deliberate slowness, and Spirits be dammed, it set off all kinds of scandalous thoughts. “Or maybe I came to see just what great spectacles the outer town had to offer.”
She didn’t balk at his gaze, lifting her chin. “And how do they fare in comparison to your fancy inner city?”
His smile widened, and his eyes flashed. He straightened and stalked over to her, coming so close she could take one last daring step and close the gap between their bodies. Leaning his head in close, his warm breath on her neck sent ripples of desire down her spine to pool at her core.
“I think I much prefer the sights to behold here,” he said, each word vibrating wonderfully over her skin. She had to suck in a breath when she felt his fingers graze slowly over the feathers of her bodice, trailing right between her breasts to finish at her navel. “How fitting,” he mumbled quietly.
She didn’t know what he meant by it—or really care in that moment as his lips hovered below her ear. The whisper of a kiss lay there, and she wanted him to make contact so desperately she thought she would come apart.
Then he stepped back swiftly with a wicked smile.
She must have looked as dazed as she felt. He slid his hands into his pockets, amused, while he watched her try to clear her head and calm her frenzied heartbeat.
“Your friends will be wondering where you are by now,” he said innocently.
Her mouth popped open, trying to form a retort, but when nothing came, all she could mutter was, “Prick.” She turned on her heel to stalk back down the hills while the echoes of his laughter followed her.
Faythe stopped by a stall selling wine and purchased a cup before heading back to where she’d left her friends. Jakon and Marlowe were at the edge of the fire show, out from the crowd, laughing with each other. She almost didn’t want to interrupt their moment of carefree joy.
Still, she approached in a haste. “Sorry—the queue was long,” she said. Her breathlessness wasn’t fake, however.
“You didn’t miss much. We were going to go watch the magicians next.” Marlowe beamed.
Faythe rolled her eyes. “You know it’s not real magick, right?” she teased. Only the fae possessed magick, and it was usually confined to one form. These “magicians” were merely cunning human tricksters.
“Don’t be such a killjoy,” Marlow grumbled, grabbing her arm and dragging her in that direction anyway.
They stayed for another hour, trailing around and visiting different stalls and entertainers until they started to get tired of all the flamboyance. They removed their masks as they left the greenery, and Faythe moaned at the fresh air that cooled her face where the material had clung to her eyes and nose.
The streets were quieter as they strolled back to the hut. They were about to turn the last corner when four figures came into view like dark, looming shadows. Faythe didn’t even have a second to react before the largest grabbed her and started to drag her down the dark alley opposite where they stood. His hand clamped over her mouth, and to her horror, she caught sight of another brute grabbing Marlowe the same while the other two tackled a thrashing Jakon.
Once they were all out of sight down the alley, she was thrown against the wall. The impact ricocheted down her spine, and stars danced across her eyes from the blow to her head. When her vision returned, she recognized every one of them, to her absolute terror: the men she’d fought and beat in The Cave. They had figured out who she really was and were now seeking revenge for their humiliation and disgrace at her hand. And her friends would suffer for it too.
The one she’d bested on her first night held her. “You think we wouldn’t find you, Gold-Eyed Shadow?” His breath reeked from the closeness while he spat the words in her face.
She had no weapons on her tonight—none of them did—and she could see no way out of their compromised position. At least, not with her companions. They would be able to kill her right here, and no one would stop them. But Faythe wasn’t afraid for herself as she looked to her friends in cold panic.
“Your fight is with me. Let them go.” She seethed through her teeth.
Marlowe was crying and near hysteric under the grip of the tall, built man—her second combatant—and Jakon was so frantic in his struggle that the other two had already hit him several times in an attempt to silence him. His lip bled, and there was a cut above his eyebrow.
Faythe saw red and snapped her eyes back to the crook who held her. “Hurts even more now you see the girl who beat you beneath the mask, huh?” she taunted. Anything to get their attention off Marlowe and Jakon. “It gave me great delight to take you all down.” She laughed haughtily. “You can’t handle that I stripped back your guise and exposed you for what you really are—a coward.”
His face contorted with inhuman rage, and he slammed her against the wall again before sending his fist into her gut. The breath was knocked from her, but before she could double over in pain, he grabbed her by the throat, his grip tightening.
“Not so brave now,” he sneered. “You’re nothing without your fancy sword tricks.”
Faythe clawed at his arms as he began close off her airway. Her throat burned from the restricted breath, and a loud pounding filled her ears. She barely heard the commotion of Jakon fighting the others, but then Marlowe’s bloodcurdling scream sent a wave of wild panic through her.
She was completely and utterly helpless under the strength of his grip. She would die right here, under his hands, in a few short minutes. She had failed them…
Air flooded down her throat all at once, and she spluttered as the brute was suddenly ripped away from her. Faythe fell to her hands and knees, gasping for her lungs to fill with oxygen once again. She allowed herself all of a few seconds to let the dizziness pass and her vision to clear before she looked up in time to see a familiar dark-haired fae take out the final man. They all lay unconscious—or dead—where they had stood just a moment ago.
She couldn’t even begin to wonder how Nik got here or managed to find her just in time. Marlowe’s hysteric cries rang through her, and her eyes returned to the alley floor, where she saw her leaning over Jakon.
Then she behe
ld the dagger protruding from his abdomen, and the world stopped.
She stared in wide-eyed horror for a second before she scrambled to her feet, falling back to her knees beside him in bone-trembling shock. His breathing was severely weak and labored, but he was still conscious, and when his eyes met hers, they held nothing but blind dread. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, and didn’t know what to do.
It was Nik who spoke finally. “We need to get him inside. Do you live far?” His voice was calm, calculating, like a warrior on a battlefield to his comrades.
She mustered a vacant shake of her head in response.
Rough hands grabbed her by the arms, pulling her to her feet. She went to protest and fall to Jakon’s side again, but Nik was already there, sliding an arm under his back and helping him to stand.
“Do not remove that blade,” he said firmly.
Jakon held his stomach where the blade was fully submerged. Faythe could only stare, paralyzed by emotion, while Marlowe’s hysteria was barely audible.
“Faythe, we need to go now,” Nik growled.
She snapped back into herself. They needed to act fast, or it would be Jakon’s life. Every second counted. She nodded sharply and rushed out of the alley, checking it was clear before motioning for them to follow. Nik carried Jakon’s whole weight—one arm braced around his waist, the other holding Jakon’s arm over his shoulder—but her friend was so pale and limp Faythe almost collapsed at the sight. She had to keep her calm—at least until they were inside and could tend to the wound.
Mercifully, they made the short journey without meeting another soul on the streets. They burst through the wooden door, and Nik set Jakon down on the kitchen table. Marlowe began immediately crashing through the kitchen for towels and a basin of water.
Faythe tore Jakon’s shirt without thinking to get a better look at the wound. She recoiled. There was so much blood. Too much. Blind terror consumed her. He wouldn’t live much longer if they couldn’t stop it. And if they could, they would have to pray to the Spirits the dagger hadn’t hit anything major inside. She met eyes with Nik, but she didn’t have to read his mind to know he was thinking the same thing: The odds were incredibly grim.
An Heir Comes to Rise Page 23
