Dreams of the Fae: Transcendence

by Anna Patrick Paige

  I stared into the feline’s amber eyes when she peeked around the tree trunk. That’s why you don’t talk to me. You’re not a cat at all. She looked at me wonderingly, then tucked her head back into her hiding place. “But you still saw me . . .”

  “I’m really talented.” He smiled.

  “I had no idea such a thing existed.”

  “I figured as much. When did she find you? When you were young?”

  “No,” I stammered, “in the woods the day before I met you. She practically attacked me.”

  “You’re positive you’ve never seen her before?” he pressed.

  “Yes.” I didn’t think it likely that Sages wandered the grounds of Alamantia Palace. Why had I never read a single thing about them in any of the books Sir Jonathan Helms brought me? Was there no written account of their existence? Perhaps, like many things, the Senate had erased them from history.

  “How the hell have you managed to avoid not only the Onyx Guard, the Senate, and Medial Alexandria but any Sage that happened to be passing through?”

  Because I’m the Divine Princess of Alamantia.

  Darric huffed. “I said it when we were traveling to the Hovel and I’ll say it again. It’s disturbing how clueless you are. The answer, I’m certain, is hidden in that past of yours I’m not allowed to mention.”

  I gnawed on my bottom lip. “If it means anything, I’m starting to feel horrid about not telling you where I’m from.”

  Satisfaction twitched at the side of his mouth. “I like that.”

  “I’m not going to break. I just want you to know that I understand the absurdity of what I’ve asked.”

  “As your instructor, I hope you don’t break. It’s best to keep an adversary guessing.” He extended a leg towards the pond, bending the other close to him. I wished some of his natural ease would wear off on me. His control was perfection—every action a calculated plan. “But, as myself, I can’t say I feel the same way.”

  “Am I an enemy to you?” I asked fearfully, especially after glimpsing a Darric who seemed to want more from me than knowledge of Fae power.

  “In a way,” he confessed.

  “Is that why you haven’t told me about the other abilities you have that are symptomatic?” I pried, hoping he would admit everything Atlas had told me.

  “Just what is it you think I can do, Aya?” A hint of condescension flashed into his eyes.

  I fumbled with my skirt. “Precognition.”

  He laughed, making me feel foolish. “That’s fairly perceptive.”

  I pressed my mouth into a firm line. “There is more to you than dreaming too.”

  “Your constant curiosity is making me want to figure out a way around our contractual agreement.”

  “You have an ambiguity!” I scolded. “Which, might I add, cannot be used to force me to reveal aspects of my past. That’s a contract violation.”

  “Absolutely.” He nodded in agreement. “It doesn’t mean I’m not going to start coming up with an alternate plan.”

  I lost the battle against his magnetism. Remaining frustrated with his enchanting laughter swirling around my ears was simply too difficult. “I was just wondering if I have it too.”

  “I don’t have precognition. It’s more of a clairvoyance—an immediate sense. Fractions of a second for me to realize what’s coming. That’s why my reactions are . . . a bit faster.”

  “I don’t have that.”

  “Yes, you do,” he informed me, as if it should be obvious. “I wouldn’t be able to teach you to fight as I do if you didn’t possess every combative quality I have.”

  I shook my head, befuddled. How could I have more hidden abilities?

  “How can you know that about me?”

  “Call it precognition,” he teased.

  “Ugh.” Aggravated, I shoved my hands in my hair and tossed the wet strands off my neck. “Enough with this cryptic Ursygh behavior.”

  “I am not the one who should be accused of being cryptic. I’ve answered everything you’ve asked, save the subject of my younger brother. A courtesy you are not going to bestow on me.”

  “I have one more question,” I blurted.

  He rolled his eyes. “Sure, why stop now?”

  “When did you start dreaming?”

  “After Bromly’s mother died, when I left the Onyx Guard and this sword came into my possession.” He slowly drew the blade from its scabbard and pointed it skywards. “Something about this weapon gives me a few of the qualities of a Fae.” He ran his finger along the center indentation. “I’ve tried to separate myself from it, especially after the dreams turned horrific. As it turns out, I’m bonded to the blade, and even if I endure the consequences of leaving it behind, I’m still affected. The damn thing punishes me for abandoning it.” He let the sword fall through his hands as if he despised its existence. It raced towards the forest floor and buried itself deep into the soil, halfway to the hilt. “Wielding it has honed my skills.” He reached for Flint’s bow and pulled an arrow from the quiver. “But I didn’t discover I could do this until we started hunting in the mountains.”

  He rolled to his knees and faced the twisted arrangement of trees, then strung the arrow and pulled back on the bowstring. Letting out a slow, controlled breath that turned his shoulders fluid, he released the tension.

  The arrow shot away from us with such speed that waves of disrupted air visibly moved out of its path. It hit one of the trunks with an explosive crash of splintering wood, cutting straight through the bark and flesh with unprecedented force. Weakened by the gaping hole, the entire tree snapped and fell to the ground, sending a cloud of multicolored blooms into the air.

  Darric cocked his head and smiled at the destruction. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the weapon enhancement it gives to me.” He touched the underside of my chin to push my mouth closed. “I could do without the horrific dreams, however.”

  “And I gather no one taught you how to use a bow?”

  “Did anyone teach you?” he replied, knowing the answer.

  “How did you handle it—when you realized that as far as everyone in Athera is concerned, you’re insane? Weren’t you afraid of the Senate?”

  With a glance through the trees, Darric checked the position of the sun and stood. He tugged our cloaks from the branches and wrapped his around his wet shoulders. “We need to head back.”

  “You’re not going to answer the question?”

  “You’ve asked enough questions today.”

  Bitterly, I snatched my cloak from his grip.

  He chuckled. “You’re entertaining when you’re angry with me.”

  “I have no right to be.” I clumsily searched for the strings to tie my cloak. He stopped my fumbling by feeding his hands into mine and pulling me from the ground.

  “You do.” He cupped my cheek and leaned close to my ear. “We aren’t coming back here tomorrow.”

  Darric used everything in his arsenal to infuriate me over the next week. He was hostile, condescending, and insulting. He shoved me out of his way and routinely threw knives at me with incredible precision. The chill of metal would graze my skin before slamming into its target. He always left me intact. No blood, no injury, but enough torment to make a harrowing shiver run down my spine.

  Unable to scold him per our contract, I wondered what punishment could be worse than the heart-shattering terror of never knowing when a razor-sharp projectile would fly towards me.

  After three days, the fear constricting my chest began to diminish. I watched carefully for any attack he might execute. A knife. An insult. I expected him to appear around every corner, ready to barrage me.

  In addition to the knives, his voice became a weapon. He fueled the fitful rage burning inside my core by whispering streams of vulgar and degrading language by my ear. I had to call upon every ounce of control I possessed to bite my tongue and keep from slamming my fist into his jaw.

  As Darric worked to invade my senses, Flint expelle
d every bit of anger I concealed. He rebuked his brother for his cruelty and tried to convince him to stop slowly killing me. He assured me I would learn to tolerate Darric’s erratic moods.

  The first day of training in the wisteria forest had led to a moment where I found myself questioning if Darric truly hated me as much as I originally thought. Now the gentle, tingling touches he had given me felt like an illusion. Had it really happened the way I remembered? Had he truly lingered above me, searching for a glimmer of something more lasting than our contract? I tried to rid myself of the memory, but not even his recent asinine behavior or the spiteful cadence of his attractive voice rattling through colorful expletives could erase the mind-numbing feeling of his hands cradling me.

  Two more days passed in which he didn’t speak to me as anything except an antagonist. Had he changed his mind about training me?

  At night, Bromly and Flint slept while my fickle instructor disappeared into the darkness. Alone with my Sage in the safety of the Hovel, I was free from bombardment. I practiced my talents using a leftover bucket of dreggy water.

  I held a tainted brown globe in my hand, watching tiny specks of debris drift inside. The blue sparkles glittering over the circumference were an odd contrast to the dirty water.

  My nerves felt tightly coiled and unable to unwind due to a perpetual awareness. The crackle of the fire normally dominated the inside of the Hovel, but tonight strange ghostly echoes haunted my peace. The wind howled by the cavern. I could differentiate between the gentle snaps of the applewood wafting billows of smoke around the drying bear strips and the crackles of the oak logs breaking down at my feet. I could hear the subtle changes in Bromly’s and Flint’s breathing patterns as they drifted in and out of deeper sleep. It made me weary to listen to it all.

  When the quiet footfalls of leather soles on stone pierced the silence, it dawned on me. I could hear his slow, definitive movement through the insulated walls. Leave it to Darric to think of the most unusual, maddening method conceivable to force me to start paying attention to my surroundings. This had all been deliberate.

  Control. Focus. Concentration.

  I dropped the globe into the bucket, then snatched my cloak and a teacup. As I pulled the fur aside, the clairvoyance flooded my brain. The introduction felt like someone driving a needle into the center of my forehead. I jolted to the left, smashing my small body against the doorframe, and watched Darric’s knife fly past my head and slam into the wall.

  I gripped my stomach, waiting for the anxiety to pass.

  Darric stood by the cavern fire, the hood of his cloak pulled down over his brow. “Finally,” he said, letting out a long breath.

  “Unorthodox practices indeed.” I kept my displeasure muted.

  “It took less time than I thought. Bromly was right, you are a fast learner.”

  I mouthed, “Fae.” Beneath the shadow of his hood, a smile upturned his lips. “Are you going to stop being such a cad now?” I asked.

  “That depends on how much you’ve retained this week.” He sauntered forwards, keeping a cautious eye on me.

  Nervously, I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders. “There is something I want to show you.”

  He glanced at the teacup before easing his fingers along the sides of my neck and collecting my mess of curls to tuck inside the nape of my cloak. “You are focusing on your surroundings well enough to start hiding what you are.” He raised my hood and tugged it down over my brows so it covered much of my face. Satisfied, he leaned in close to me, his mouth hovering just above mine. “Shading your eyes is vital to your survival. That’s how people like me identify you.” He hooked a finger under my chin and raised my gaze. His eyes locked on mine and he paused, seemingly watching my irises as his pupils dilated ever so slightly. “It only takes a glimpse, the faintest sliver of eye contact, to know what you are.”

  “What can you see in my eyes?” I asked almost inaudibly.

  “They glimmer,” he murmured and slipped his thumb across my chin. “I can see traces of your dust, even when you aren’t using your Fae power. That’s why the Senate calls us Sights. Most of us join the Onyx Guard, but nomads exist—an old woman using a cave of bandits as a guise, for example.” He twisted his hand into mine, interlocking our fingers. “Ready?”

  Without waiting for a response, he led us from the cavern, and we disappeared into the night.

  We traveled at a slow run—the same speed we had maintained when I followed him to the valley, only this time it was different. With the clairvoyance activated, I easily kept up with him. I could avoid branches, roots, rocks, and unforeseen obstacles. I understood how effortlessly he traveled without disturbing his path or making a sound.

  We moved through the shadows, our footsteps furtive. The hood obscured much of my vision, yet I didn’t need to see everything anymore to perceive my surroundings. I could hear the movement of deer in the brush, the distant trickle of the streams, and the scurrying of tiny beetles through the leaf litter. The wind tickled my skin like tiny electric sparks, and even the touch of Darric’s callouses were more defined compared to the smooth spots on his palm. Nothing was numb. I was alive, my frail senses exposed like an open wound. Sharper, clearer, crisp. I absorbed the feelings without reservation.

  We rounded the crag as the first pale yellow light appeared through the trees, and I dug my heels into the grass to stop our jog. Perplexed, Darric turned to face me, and I flung my arms around his neck, beckoning his unyielding frame into my arms. I jerked the hood off his head and buried my face in the curve of his throat, breathing him in, allowing the dizzying sensation to overwhelm me. The new control I had over my body crashed into the nervous onslaught of what his presence normally did to me. Enthralled and gratified by everything he had done, I didn’t fear the frantic beating of my heart.

  His strong arms wrapped around my back, crushing me to his chest. His mouth grazed my cheek, and his hot breath tumbling over my neck sent prickles down my side.

  “Thank you,” I breathed, my lips brushing his heated skin. “Thank you for all of this.”

  He slid my hood away from my face. “How long did it take you to realize I’ve been training you, not being an insufferable ass?”

  “Too long,” I admitted.

  He moved his hands to my hips, putting some space between us. “You controlled your emotions exceptionally well this week.” A charming half smile emerged. “Until just now.”

  “You’re still an insufferable ass,” I taunted, feeling myself light up as I teased him.

  “That’s undeniable, but occasionally I know what I’m doing.” He smirked, a little overly pleased with himself.

  “I want to repay you.”

  “I haven’t given you anything you weren’t already capable of.”

  “You’re wrong,” I insisted. “Since the moment you found me, you’ve done unfathomable things for me. By the end of this training, I’m going to owe you more than I have to give.”

  “Maybe that’s when I’ll use my ambiguity.” His enticing chuckle reddened my cheeks. He watched the rosiness spread over my skin with evident enjoyment until he regained his lost composure and pried my fingers from his neck. “What did you want to show me?”

  I lowered my chin, suddenly abashed by how I had thrown myself onto him. “Um . . .” Concentrate. “At night, there isn’t much to do at the Hovel besides listen to Bromly and Flint snore.” I wrapped his hand around the cup. “The water Bromly leaves in the buckets is disgusting, so I’ve been practicing.” I curled my finger over the edge and closed my eyes. The refreshing sensation started deep within my chest and swirled as it branched out into my arms. A sweet taste lingered in the back of my throat and tickled my tongue.

  I opened my eyes to be sure it was working; water slowly filled the teacup, and shimmering blue dust gathered around the wooden rim. I retracted my finger to stop the flow. “Apparently, not only can I control water, but I can conjure it.”

  Darric skeptically examined
the teacup’s contents as the glimmering dimmed, then turned the cup over and poured the water onto the ground.

  “You could have tasted it!” I stomped my foot. “It’s a lot sweeter than river water.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “It’s weird.”

  “Weirder than me throwing tornadoes of it at you? After everything you’ve seen me do, this is where you’re going to draw the line?”

  He rolled a leftover droplet between his fingers, testing the feel. “This is begging me to ask questions that are more sexually explicit than I’m willing to express right now.”

  “Darric Ursygh!” I glowered, snatching the cup from his hand. “I’m not leaking!” The embarrassment reflared. “The water comes out of thin air.”

  He laughed and tugged at the string of my cloak, catching the wool when it fell from my shoulders. “I could get used to you turning such a lascivious shade of pink around me.”

  I dropped the cup and covered my face. The cat meowed at my feet, and I peeked at her through my fingers.

  “Getting back to the reason we are here . . .” He draped our cloaks over a tree branch and drew his sword. After surveying the area to find the largest tree, he drove his blade into a thick trunk, slicing through the width. The falling timber crashed into the branches of a smaller tree twenty feet away and stuck, creating a wooden beam suspended four feet off the ground. “All right.” He hopped onto the trunk and sheathed his sword. “Come up here.”

  The log wobbled as I struggled to climb it and my feet dangled in the air. Darric grabbed my hand and jerked me up beside him. I crouched and dug my nails into the bark, unable to stand on my suddenly flimsy legs.

  With little effort, he strolled to the opposite end as easily as walking across solid ground.

  I repositioned and straightened my back.

  Shifting his weight, he purposefully caused the log to turn.

  I waved my arms, but my feet went out from under me. Darric sprinted across the wood and caught me in the crook of his arm, and I clung to his shirt until I corrected my footing.