A Killer
All this time, he’s made sure to stay between me and the door, blocking
my escape. But now, it doesn’t matter because I finally hear what I’ve been
waiting for since I let out that scream: footsteps pounding through the hall,
over the flagstones. Distant still, but I can feel the vibrations. And through
the walls, I hear Raphael’s muffled voice calling my name.
The intruder doesn’t even turn around. Does he not hear Raphael? But
then I hear him whispering again. And the mist rises around the door.
He lets out his eerie laugh as I stare in horror, realizing what’s about to
happen.
Raphael will barge through that door, straight into the mist. It will kill
him in seconds.
I let my fury course through me and summon my magic to disable the
mist, except this time, the mage is ready for it. Before I can snuff out the
power of the mist, he slices at me, forcing me to jump back, breaking my
focus. The mist rises all around the door, shimmering in its unearthly colors.
“Nia!” Raphael cries, closer now.
I gather my powers, and the mage lunges again. I dodge, his blade
whispering inches away from my throat, my concentration disrupted.
“Nia, I’m coming!” Raphael calls outside the door.
I tug at my power for the third time. The mage strikes once more. This
time, I ignore his attack, flinging my magic at the mist.
The hum stops, the veil mist flickering.
The mage’s scimitar sinks into my stomach, and searing agony spreads
through my body as the blade plunges in. I try to scream, but I can’t. I make
a strangled sound as the mage rips his scimitar from my gut. The door
bursts open, and Raphael charges in.
Blinded with pain, I fall to my knees. The mage whirls, and my thoughts
become hazy, drowned by the horror of my lacerated stomach. I try to speak
and taste blood on my lips.
Raphael
The fact is that the people of the city gather mud and decomposing earth and pile it up in great mounds which they leave undisturbed and exposed to the wind, rain and sun for thirty or forty years. After sitting all this time in these mounds the earth becomes so refined that the bowls made from it have an azure tint and a lustrous shine and are unparalleled in their beauty. And you must understand that when a man makes a mound of this earth, he does so for his sons or grandsons. Clearly, given that it needs to sit still for so long to become refined, he cannot hope to profit from it or make use of it himself; but after his death his son will reap the reward.
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The meaning to be A true fae
And Annwyn…the air, the very land itself, seems to thrum through me.
Like she’s saying, there you are.
I feel her like a shot of adrenaline surging through my veins and filling
me with a staccato thrill, ready to help fuel my fury and push my power to
rid her of her tarnished and twisted people.
It elates me. Makes me feel everything fae that I’d been cut off from for
so many years. And with this vicious elation, I realize something else dark
and noxious that’s luring my fury out—the black veins that stream through
my gold.
It’s pushing, seeking to ravage. To kill.
“Auren!” someone calls, but I ignore him. Don’t pay him any mind. I’m
too entranced by the pull of punishment.
“Stop,” I whisper beneath my breath.
The rotted gold seems to snarl back.
My jaw clenches. Teeth gnash. My entire body shakes with effort. This is
my magic. Mine. I wield it.
“Stop!”
The call bursts out of me like a great force of will that I feel all the way
down to my bones. Instantly, that feral ferocity that took over shudders and
slips.
The savagery snaps off, ending its surge.
It begins to retreat back into me, slinking down with chagrin. Heart
pounding, my gaze falls to my hands as the last of the liquid drips to a slow
stop, like the turn of a faucet.
Spinning on my heel, I take in the street.
The Stone Swords are all dead, black lines streaked over their metallic
corpses. The gleaming liquid has splashed over the entire street, with spatter
up on the storefronts and speckles of it staining the bystanders caught in its
wave.
They’ve stopped running, but there’s at least half the amount of people
Tale as old as time
A
frown creases my brow and worry starts to wrap around me. My
body tenses, muscles poised to bolt. I’m unsteady. Unsure. Not
certain whether I can trust these people at all.
“Why can’t I go to the field?” I ask warily.
“She doesn’t understand,” Thursil murmurs, darting a glance to Nenet.
“She doesn’t know anything…”
My back stiffens. “Know what?”
“You can’t go out,” Estelia tells me. “It’s not safe.”
Can’t go out.
Not safe.
A jarring echo of Midas’s words that rings in my head and instantly has
my hackles raising. Has me reaching back to grasp my ribbons and pull
them into my lap. Reminding me of who I am now. Of who I am not.
My eyes go hard. “I spent years being told that very same thing. Kept in a
cage for my supposed safety, when really, it was about control. So know
this—I’ll never allow anyone to keep me trapped again, no matter the
reason.”
Estelia’s amber eyes widen with surprise and immediately fill with
apology. “I’m sorry, Lady Auren. I didn’t mean…I only want you to be
careful. If they find out who you are, they’ll take you.”
My hackles rise. “What are you talking about?”
“Geisel is Saira Turley’s city. This is where she first came and where she
lived before becoming a princess. That’s why most of us who live here are
still loyalists, why you can trust us—because having you here truly is an
answer to our prayers.”
“Okay…”
She tucks a thick black curl behind her pointed ear, looking at me with
worry. “But when you fell from the sky, it flared. It sort of…tore open. It
looked strange. The truth of your arrival will be protected by most of us,
Who is afraid of the little golden girl? Well we should be
“If I can’t have her, no one can.” Midas’s cold,
calculating voice makes my heart drop. Because I can hear
the truth binding his words. He would rather kill me than
let me leave. He’s betting on both of our lives that Slade
won’t risk it, and he bet right.
“Go now, Ravinger. You have thirty seconds, or I will
kill her.”
The Wrath shift on their feet. Fake Rip looks at me,
fury flickering over his face.
But Slade’s gaze is locked on me. “Use your ribbons,”
he urges, and a choked sob curdles from my cinched
throat.
“I can’t.”
Midas pulls my body closer, his hold banded around
my waist so hard that it’s a struggle to breathe, especially
as he chuckles against me. “Oh, she didn’t tell you? She
lost that privilege.”
Slade’s eyes drop when Midas motions to my left hand
where the ribbon is still tied loosely around my limb.
Something like appalled torment flushes over Slade’s
face as his eyes flash from my ribbon and back to my face.
“Auren...”
Tears that feel like fire burn down my cheeks, and my
chest expands with the cry of rumbling rage that builds like
a storm.
“She’s helpless and completely at my mercy, and she
will die at my hand if you force it.”
My anger lifts up her head from the billowing clouds,
the word helpless echoing inside of them, clinking with
electric frenzy.
All or Nothing
“Fae are wilder in our instinctual drives. We can be
demanding and ardent, dominant and jealous.” He stands
up and faces me again, and even though he’s no closer than
he was before, it feels like something between us has
compressed. Like the world is shrinking into this moment.
“Especially with...someone we want.”
I’m hot all over, my ribbons unable to hold still any
longer as they twine against my back.
“I didn’t answer you right away because I need you to
understand something first,” he tells me, that dark,
brooding voice of his caressing my ears.
I force myself to let go of my skirts and smooth out the
wrinkled parts I’d clutched onto. “Okay...”
Newborn firelight flickers at his back, but his gaze
gleams brighter. “I was going to make myself walk away. I
was going to leave early—tomorrow actually. I had every
intention of respecting your decision. Whether it was to
stay with him or to run, I was going to force myself to
accept it and leave you be.”
I don’t like hearing him talk about leaving. Just the
thought of it makes me squirm.
“But make no mistake. I would’ve still wanted you.”
My eyes prickle with his declaration.
Right now, with the intensity of his attention on me, I
can feel that wild edge he just mentioned. “It’s all or
nothing, Auren.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want all of you,” he tells me, a newfound hunger in
the depths of his green eyes that stirs heat beneath my
skin. “Every piece, every memory, every minute, every inch.