by C. E. Olson
“Alone?” That statement is enough to distract her from thinking too closely about how good he smells.
Varis nods as he tucks the map away. “Yes. Sontar knows of me. He should let me in the front door. I'll need your help getting out again, though.”
“And if you don’t come back?” Aine asks, the thought of having to escape alone never once crossing her mind.
“You can fly, can't you? If I fail, spread your wings and laugh as you fly away. Just glamour yourself to look like a pigeon or something.”
The mention of flying makes her eyes burn from unshed tears. She hasn’t flown in nearly two years yet she relives that day her wings were cut almost every single night. “As a matter of fact... I can’t.”
He glances over and helps her step over a particularly viny patch of ground. “What do you mean, you can't? You're High Fae.”
“Yes, well... the day King Sontar took my father and brother’s heads, he also took my wings. Said no wench of his would walk around his kingdom as an equal.”
Varis visibly jerks. He stops walking completely, his face pained like he's been shot with a stray arrow. “He what? Why?”
Aine faces him, swallowing thickly before she begins. There are only a few people in the whole world that know this story, and yet, she wants to share it with Varis. “He wanted to join our kingdoms and my father refused him. He-he tricked us... invited us to break bread and then murdered my family. They say my wings hang on a wall in his throne room. He only let me go home because I was supposed to convince my kingdom that joining under one ruler is what’s best for all Fae. I couldn’t do it. I cannot lie... but Sontar can. I don’t know how, but he can. My mother jumped from the tower not a full lunar cycle later.” When their eyes lock, she notices the green specks in his hazel eyes for the first time, and they’d probably completely take her breath away if it weren’t for the sadness inside them. Breaking that spell is harder than it should be, and when she begins walking again, she’s flustered and clumsy.
“Let’s just camp here,” Varis calls after her.
Aine spins back around with a tilt of her head, wondering if the mighty Fae Hammer is showing her pity. “Already? The sun has only just begun to set.”
“Yes, but we should save the food we brought for when the landscape becomes barren. It'll take time to trap and cook dinner, and—” he clenches his jaw, looking down at the ground below his feet “—Aine, I...”
The use of her true name is almost jarring, it’s enough to lose her will to fight him, and she takes slow steps back until they’re face to face once more. She looks up at him, fighting the sudden, strong urge to touch the scruff growing along his jaw. “Okay, Varis. We’ll camp here.”
Words are scarce for a while. Aine watches him set up traps and shelter curiously, and once the fire is cooking their meat, Echo lays off to the side like she’s giving them privacy. “Do you want to know why I sent an assassin for your King?”
“So it was you, then,” Varis comments. “I wondered. I saw you one night, in a dream. I thought I was going crazy.”
“I wanted to know who was coming after me,” she admits. “Do you know of a Sentinel that goes by the name Naslan? I believe he is one of Balian’s most trusted?”
Varis smiles softly. “I'm aware, yes.”
“He crosses over more often than you do. Takes what he wants... who he wants. We’ve been trying to capture him for some time, but he never uses the portal. Anyway, we finally caught him. Naslan traveled a little too close to the castle for his spoils, and one of my men grabbed him. He didn’t hesitate to spill your King’s secrets in return for his safe return to the Stone Realm. He’s the one that told me about Balian and Sontar’s close relationship. He warned me that Sontar has grown tired of waiting for me, and that you would be coming soon. I struck first.”
Rage flashes across Varis’ features, but it's gone so quickly she's not sure it was ever there. “I have another name to add to the list of those I’ll gut before the end, then. I never cared for Naslan, but I didn't take him for a rat.” He sucks in a breath and meets her eyes. “I'm genuinely sorry this has happened to you. If you'd have led with this, fatal oaths wouldn't have been necessary. I might joke about not having any honor, but I do. I seldom get to exercise it.”
“Maybe things will change for us soon and we can both exercise honor. I do apologize for requiring an oath, but I don’t believe I’d have a head otherwise.” It crosses her mind that she should feel weird having such a normal conversation with someone who has killed so many of her kind, but on the contrary, it doesn’t feel weird at all. In fact, she’s looking at Varis Kester in an entirely new light. He was doing a job required by his King in a time of war, she truly is no better than him.
Varis busies himself with sectioning off their dinners and hands her some of the meat. “I don't know if you're one of the Fair Folk that hates eating animals, but we don't have much of a choice. I can assure you that he didn't suffer, and I'll be using every bit of him but his bones.”
Aine blushes slightly because she’s never been one to turn down meat. Her mother used to scold her for sneaking bacon from the kitchens but she’s always had a taste for it. “Thank you. You won’t hear complaints from me... especially in private.”
“So, you'll thank me now and arrest me later for it?” He smirks slightly and drops some berries into her palm. “Sounds like a fair trade. We both know how much I enjoy being in chains.”
The visions that assault her mind have her choking on her food. She plays it off like she’s fine, avoiding his face completely as she drinks her water and composes herself. “Yes. Yes, we do.”
“Careful, Your Grace,” he says in an amused tone. “Eat your fill then sleep. We should be safe here tonight.”
This time, the use of her title instead of her name makes her smile. “Very well, Varis Kester.”
They eat in a comfortable silence for a while, then Aine quizzes him on the different kinds of trees and bushes. When it’s time to turn in for the evening, Aine lays there awhile listening to the sounds of nature all around them. She feels more relaxed than she ever thought she could outside of her castle. It feels right, like this is where the Fae belong... surrounded by flowers and trees, not holed up in a stone castle and away from the sun and moonlight. Another pleasant surprise for her is that she actually does feel safe. Whether it’s the calming buzz of the world around them or the fact that the greatest assassin alive is next to her, she isn’t sure, but she imagines it’s a combination.
She glances over at him and watches the reflection of the flames dance off his face as he sleeps. How anyone can fall asleep that fast is beyond her, but she imagines someone in his line of work needs to take sleep whenever they can get it... unless he’s faking it. Aine keeps her eyes glued on Varis, trying to watch for any little sign that he’s actually awake, but in doing that, she slips under herself before she can stop it.
Even unconscious, she can see him clearly. She isn’t sure if she should consider this a dream or a nightmare, but the Fae Hammer looms over her, sweat sliding down the nape of his neck as he rolls his hips to get deeper. Aine grips his chin from below, her other hand taut in his hair, and then suddenly she’s being ripped from her slumber. She blinks away the bright morning sun and listens to the birds in the trees as she calms her breathing.
A bloody sex dream. What is wrong with me? Aine huffs an annoyed laugh and sits up to take in their surroundings. Varis has his back toward her, but that doesn’t deter her from staring. She can see his muscles bulging under his tunic and thinks about how easily he could probably lift her off the ground. She blames the dream and sneaks off into the brush before she can even attempt to do something she regrets. It’s better this way.
Chapter Eleven
Varis barely sleeps. He knows they're safe, but the things Aine told him aren't sitting right with him. How someone like Sontar thought he was entitled to her wings, or her in general, offends him in ways he wasn't expecting. Fo
r the first time, he starts looking forward to the task in front of him. He knows he'll get in easily enough thanks to the Lunar Court's standing relationship with Ostusen, but getting out will be a different story. Still, he's not sure he cares anymore. Aine might not be his friend, but if his number is going to be up soon anyway, the least he can do is right a wrong.
Eventually, exhaustion pulls him under. He has strange dreams about bloody, broken wings and laughter that chills him to the bone, and he finds himself alone when he wakes in a cold sweat.
The morning sun has risen, though barely. Embers from last night's fire still glow, but Aine's blanket is folded neatly and she's nowhere to be found. Nervous, he gets to his feet and draws his blade. He doesn't sense foul play, yet her absence still makes him uneasy.
Slowly, he makes his way toward the river, following shallow boot prints in the ground until he can hear the sound of gentle singing. Varis stops to listen for a moment, then carefully pushes some of the brush out of his path and steps forward until he can see Aine. She's standing in the water up to her chest and singing a melody Varis has never heard.
He can't help but stare. Here, like this, where there are no oaths or soldiers or castles, she's beautiful. Varis’ stomach flips uncomfortably when he realizes just how beautiful she is, and just how badly he wants to see her come apart under him. Reeve’s words pass through his mind and make him clear his throat, but he doesn't stop watching her.
Aine ducks under the water for a few long seconds, and when she rises, she has a fish between her fingers. She turns and looks directly at him, smirking slightly as she slowly exits the water. “Morning, Varis. Would you like to join me for a bath?”
Aine doesn’t stop until they’re inches apart and she’s handing him the slimy creature. He's not sure which part he's more startled by — what her body looks like under all of her fancy clothes, or the fact that she's handing him a fish.
“Um.” He takes it, sure he's never seen anything or anyone like her before. “I take it this is breakfast?” he asks dumbly, but his brain isn't working the way it should be. All the blood that normally helps him think is currently traveling south.
Aine’s flicks her gaze down to his crotch and her smile grows wider. “Can also be a second breakfast... if you had something else in mind.”
“I don't have anything else in mind,” he lies, hating the heat he feels rising to his cheeks. I don't want to get eaten for breakfast. “This will do just fine. I'll—” he clears his throat “—go skin it.”
Aine steps in impossibly close, and it takes too much effort not to stare at her breasts. “One of your heads has something in mind.”
He shakes his head quickly and mumbles out a denial. “No, no, that's... the berries. They have certain—” he backs up a little “—properties, you see, it's really not my f—” he trips, barely catching himself and nearly losing the fish. “Hell.”
“What makes you so nervous, Varis Kester?” Aine asks, her tone more playful than he’s ever heard it. “Is it because I’m a queen?”
“Actually... yes,” he says quickly. “I couldn't presume to deserve someone like you.” Or the things someone like you may or may not do. “I should leave you to it.”
“And yet... you stay?” She tilts her head as she gently lays her palm just below his belly button.
Goosebumps travel over his skin, and he's dying to know what that hand would feel like if there weren't several layers between it and her target. “I'll move when I need to,” he says defensively. His hands curl into tight fists, but the scales on the fish slice his palm. He quickly relaxes and steps back, turning away from her before he can change his mind. “I'll have it ready soon.”
Aine scoffs from behind him and he suspects he’s offended her. “Fine!” she hisses through her teeth.
He shouldn’t turn back, yet he does, and the narrowed eyes and pink cheeks that greet him confirm his suspicions. “Are you honestly offended that I won't sleep with you? Don't take it personally, Your Grace, I would just prefer to keep my bits attached to my body.”
“Attached to your body?” She covers her breasts and walks to grab her clothes off the grass.
Distracted momentarily by her disappearing skin, he fumbles for his words. “Yes, you he— Reeve told me, warned me is more like, I just—”
“Reeve warned you?” Aine pauses as she puts the pieces together, and then she lets her hair back down. “Whatever, I’m hungry.”
So it's true. Varis allows himself one, singular moment to be sad about that, then stalks off back to their camp in a sour mood. He's not as careful with the fish as he should've been, so they end up with less usable meat, but it still does the trick. He doesn't talk to her at all while they eat, or when he excuses himself to go bathe. Aine is infuriating and dangerous and everything he's never allowed himself to get close to, but as he sinks into the water, he finds himself hating the tide for carrying away any trace of the river she'd touched.
He doesn't know if she watches him the way he watched her, and he doesn't care. When he's clean enough, he wraps his hand around the very thing he's trying to protect from her and allows himself a few moments of pleasure to take the edge off. If her face is the only one he sees, it's not his fault — he just prays that she stays out of his head long enough to spill into the water instead of into her.
When he's done, he's still frustrated, but climbs out of the water to get dressed. He's only a little disappointed when she's nowhere in sight, but it makes things easier for him as he tightens his leathers again and trudges back toward camp.
Her new outfit hugs her hips in ways he wishes he could. Their stuff is all packed up and Aine kicks the coals around to help cover their tracks. “Have a nice, relieving bath?”
“Shut up.” He grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder. “But yes, I did, and all of me remained intact.”
“That so?” She pets Echo one last time and then begins walking in the direction he showed her on the map. “Did your brother learn that firsthand?”
“I highly doubt it. I don't think Laix would be very happy if he had.” Varis keeps walking, but now that they've broached the topic, he has too many questions. “Why, though? Why eat them? You'd think it would be more fun to leave them be,” he says.
“Eat them?” Aine stops walking completely, her face contorted with shock.
Varis raises his eyebrows and only makes it another couple of steps before he stops, too. “Yes. High Fae tend to eat their lov—” The look on her face, as well as the memory of the look on Reeve’s face, tell him a different story. “That's... not a thing, is it.”
“Bloody hell. Most Fae won’t even eat animals, and yet you believe some of them would eat your member?” The laugh she releases is nothing like he’s ever heard before. It’s almost foreign coming from her lips, and Varis might actually enjoy it if it weren't at his expense.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me it isn't true. No skirting around words or telling half-truths, Your Grace. Tell me.”
Aine attempts to stalk past him, completely avoiding his gaze with her lips between her teeth.
“See! You can't! You're just mad that Reeve warned me first,” Varis says as he reaches out to lightly grab her arm. “Admit it.”
Amusement dances in her gorgeous purple eyes when she turns, and she slowly licks her lips before responding. “Fae do not dismember their lovers, nor do they eat any part of them... but we do bite.”
He lets go of her arm quickly and swears under his breath, then moves past her. “Very funny. I'm still not going to sleep with you.”
“Your loss. I’m quite good in bed.”
Varis sighs and doesn't respond, knowing the conversation will lead nowhere good. Instead, he focuses on putting one foot in front of the other until it's time to make camp for the night — and even then, he's not sure he wants to talk much at all.
IT DOESN’T GET ANY easier as time goes on. To his dismay, Aine only gets more tempting with each and every day, and aft
er a week of traveling with her, Varis is positive this is torture. “We’ll camp here.”
Aine sits instantaneously without complaint. “Thank the gods. One more mile today and I—”
The crunching of leaves in multiple places around them interrupts her and Varis naturally moves in front of her with his blade in hand. “Where’s that bloody shadow cat?” he whispers.
“She always comes back in her own time. I’m going to glamour your ears only. They won’t know our faces. Call me Annie and you’re... Viktor,” Aine rushes out just as several Fae exit the woods around them. “Hello... we mean no one harm.”
“We do not harm other beings of nature,” a tall woman with green eyes says, and the crown of vines on her head tells them she’s the leader. “I’m Queen Oshae of the Trees.”
“Queen?” Aine asks, but she sounds more intrigued than offended. “How can we help you, Your Grace?”
The curtsy she offers nearly makes Varis laugh, but he bows his head to stop it. Once they’re all introduced, they’re invited to camp with their tribe, less than a mile east of where they planned on sleeping. When they arrive, there’s more food than they’ve seen since leaving the castle. No meat, of course, but plenty of other delicious foods to fill their bellies, and most importantly... they have whiskey.
The sound of beating drums fills the air and once Aine has one drink in her system, she stands and tugs on Varis’ hand. “Dance with me.”
“Oh, no. I'm not going to do that, Annie,” he says cheekily. “You go on. See if the Tree Queen will dance with you.”
“You’re no fun.” Aine starts dancing in front of him, her hips swaying and making it nearly impossible not to reach out and touch. “I want to dance with you, Viktor. Lighten up.”
He stands and pulls her close in a single movement, then whispers in her ear, “Do you think that new name gives me a new personality, too? I'm not going to let my guard down.”