I kissed his neck, allowing my lips to linger on his skin. He released a long, blissful groan—as if he was about to come unhinged—and his fingers dug into my back. I laid a second kiss on his chin, and my heart seized when my mind caught up with my sudden confidence. Freezing, I rested my forehead on his shoulder to await consequences.
He shook his head, eyes alight with amusement. “I’ll never be able to leave you at the Hovel at night again.”
I never had a reason for wanting a moment to linger. I never experienced anything so monumental I wanted to preserve it as a treasured memory. Then I met Darric Ursygh.
Until the day of my eighteenth birthday, I moved through life as if it were disposable, blindly waiting through my childhood until a future with Prince Marcus Ember of Podar stretched before me like instant mortality. But with Darric time was nonexistent—irrelevant yet never enough.
Even through every insane method of his weapons training. Even when his normally collected mood turned asinine. I would keep those instants locked safely inside my heart to remember a time when I had not recognized what was slowly happening to me around the frantic beating in my chest. I wouldn’t have replaced anything or traded a single memory.
Eternity is always the same. A minute doesn’t alter its length because of fear or rapture, though it tends to feel otherwise. You cannot stop the flow of the universe, but you can luxuriate in the beauty it provides for the allotted moments you’re given.
Wrapped in Darric’s arms, his breath coming in slow swells against my skin, I wanted nothing more than for the clock to stop ticking. For the steady march of time to freeze and put us inside our own private world. Let him continue brushing his lips over the shell of my ear. But the starry sky will always fade, and the sun will rise over the mountains. He released the intoxicating hold he had on me, and a new ache settled in my core.
After that night, I knew one thing was absolutely certain: I couldn’t ignore the truth of my feelings for Darric Ursygh forever.
When we returned to the Hovel, Bromly was asleep by the outdoor fire with an apple wood log clutched in his lap. Flint was sprawled on top of his bed with the door open. The two had stayed up all night to finish processing the new bear.
“We don’t leave for Burge for three weeks. Why the rush?” I asked quietly as Darric moved the tripod off the smoking embers.
“There’s one more project we have to finish before we can leave. I’ll be helping them with this one, so we won’t be able to train as much in the afternoons.” He plucked the dried meat off the tripod, dropping the bits into a half-full basket.
After carefully sliding the apple wood from Bromly’s grip, I untied my cloak and laid it over him, tucking the ends around his bulbous belly. He pleasantly smacked his lips and snuggled under the makeshift blanket.
I joined Darric at the tripod. “What’s the last project?”
“The transportation vessel to Burge. It’s been rotting for the last year and needs repair.”
“Vessel?” I wrinkled my nose. “A boat?”
“Did you think we were going to walk to Burge with several hundred pounds of illegal cargo?” he teased.
We worked silently through the morning, carving the last of the meat and leaving it to dry over the apple wood. Bromly awakened in early afternoon and suspiciously eyed my cloak. He yawned, rubbing his eyes, then gave Darric a scorching glare.
“Aya, you should get some rest,” Darric suggested, returning Bromly’s scowl. “We won’t be training again until tomorrow morning.”
I started to protest until the cat rubbed my leg and looked up at me with a nod.
Reluctantly, I went to our room with the tiny feline. The instant I fell into bed and tugged the covers around myself, I could no longer keep my eyes open. The cat curled into a warm ball of burgundy against my body. I yawned, accepting the musky scent of the Hovel deep into my lungs, and drifted to the dream world.
I stood on water, yet I was completely dry, even my feet. The water beaded and slipped off my skin. Soupy gray fog hung in the air; I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of me. A gust of wind viciously whipped my hair around my face and sent waves rushing over my ankles.
I started to feel my way across the silvery pond, but a wall of fire burst from the water and cut off my path. Startled, I spun around, only to be confronted with a second fiery barrier erupting from the churning waves. I was trapped.
The agitated surface beneath me began to violently shake. I dropped to my knees just as stone breached the waves and lifted me high into the air. The dripping rock rose above the swirling tornado of wind and flames, and I looked down from my perch at the chaos below. The fog suddenly split, forced apart by golden beams of brilliant light from above. It grew brighter and brighter, blinding me until I had to shut my eyes.
I burst up from the pillows, clutching a hand to my chest, and rubbed my eyes. They burned as if I’d stared directly into the sun. Concerned, I looked over the side of the bed. No water. No flames. No wind. No stone.
I lay back into the mattress, and my head crushed a pile of delicate vines growing cerulean flowers. I rubbed the tiny perennials between my fingers; a faint dusting of green glitter dimmed inside the stems.
The cat poked her head out from the torn cotton blanket. “You aren’t bringing these flowers, are you?”
She cocked her head to the side, her whiskers twitching upwards.
I dropped the handful of flowers to scratch the underside of her chin. She closed her eyes, tilting her head so I could reach the fluffy tufts on the side of her face. “Atlas said a Fae has never reached omnipotence because of Medial Alexandria. The bear said he wouldn’t kill me so I could be everything Athera needs of me.” I groaned and rolled over, smashing my face in the pillow. The cat stood on my back and kneaded her paws into my shoulder.
Muted voices clashed in the distance. Three young men in a heated argument. “They’re fighting again,” I mumbled into the pillow. They must have been outside the cavern, Darric ensuring a private conversation.
When I finally gathered the courage to open the front door, the three irate brothers instantaneously ceased their squabbling. The six disconcerted eyes that stared at me were worse than any number of gawking lords. I took a cautious step back into the Hovel.
“Don’t worry,” Darric said to Flint, his tone coated in acid. “She didn’t hear anything.” He left his brothers and squeezed past me to disappear inside his room.
I scanned the horizon, strangely disoriented. The evening sky was not cast in its normal orange-and-violet beauty. Everything was indigo, and the sun was shining in the wrong place.
Darric came back with his hood covering his brow and handed me my cloak. “We’re leaving.”
“What? Now?”
“It’s dawn,” he asserted.
“Dawn?” Confused, I studied the sky a second time.
“You were tired.” His acrid tone warned me not to question him.
I tied my cloak and trailed after him. How had I managed to sleep so long? And what fracas had occurred between the brothers during my absence?
Bromly gathered tools and piled them next to the seating logs: a basket of nails, his axe, knives, and every bit of spare rope that existed in the cavern. Flint sat on the grass, seething, his head tucked between his legs. Darric snatched my bicep as we passed him, unwilling to let me stop.
When we reached the layered crag, I tore my arm from his grip. “What the hell is going on?”
“We’re training,” he replied acerbically.
“Before I step one foot into that forest, I want to know why everyone at the Hovel looks like they’re about to kill each other.”
“You don’t need to be concerned with—”
“Don’t tell me I don’t need to be concerned with it! You told me the Hovel is my home. If I’m going to live with the three of you permanently, then I want to be treated as part of the family. I want to know what’s going on.”
“Aya, please don’t ask about it.�
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I stubbornly crossed my arms over my chest.
“You’re right.” He groaned, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re our sister and you should know.”
Sister? My heart ripped between beats.
“But I can’t have you thinking ill of me. Not yet. It’s critical that you and I are civil with each other, because you need the defensive skills I can teach you. If you keep asking about me and Flint, I will tell you—unfortunately, I’m finding it incredibly difficult to say no to you—and you’ll hate me for the answer I’ll give. I have every intention of betraying him, and I don’t want you knowing the irrationality I promised. Not until you’re fully trained in combat.” His shoulders tensed, and he ground his teeth as if pain was settling deep within his body. “After that, you can hate me. I’d prefer it. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
The growing feelings I had for Darric shriveled into a pit in my stomach. I held myself together as something fatal wrapped around my chest like a snake constricting its prey.
Ayleth, you are capable of such idiocy. Absurd to think that any feelings you had towards him would be reciprocated.
Darric had admitted an attraction to me; No better than every man at the Rose Court. He thought I was beautiful; So did Prince Marcus. It made no difference what Darric thought. He was being true to our contract until the end, nothing more. Then life at the Hovel would continue as normal, with the addition of their sister.
I forced the sting of my thoughts into the background, ignoring the crushing pressure in my chest. “Let’s get this over with,” I grumbled, walking past him and into the forest.
Darric laid his cloak over the tree where he kept his training items. The rays of light coming through the canopy broke into yellow and orange flickers that sparkled against his svelte frame.
The magnitude of his violent capability and the callous person he had become due to his history slammed into me. How could I have thought he would care for me as anything more than a friend? Or sister. The platonic word made bile rise into my throat.
Viewing my dejected expression, Darric rubbed his hands over his face. I noticed he was wearing two leather belts, both hanging loosely around his hips. The sword that had so long hung above his bed now lay beside the brilliant black hilt of his own blade.
My lips parted when he unlatched the extra belt and flipped the extraordinary sword into his palms. The darkness of the Hovel had not done the weapon justice. The shimmering black mother-of-pearl hilt bounced light into the trees, and every detail of the carved obsidian vines on the grip shone in vivid clarity. In the morning sun, the black diamond pommel morphed into otherworldly rainbow hues.
The scabbard had also changed. Its tawny brown leather, smooth and flawless, now displayed an intricate swirled pattern down its length—like some form of ethereal writing, but not in a language I had ever seen written.
In all my life, I had never beheld a more beautiful weapon.
“Ready for an upgrade?” Darric asked.
I went entirely inarticulate. I’d known he would eventually introduce me to swords. I’d known someday I would have a blade in my hand instead of an ironwood waster. Yet I hadn’t considered where he might obtain a suitable sword for me.
“This was my sword. I learned everything I know with it.” He unsheathed the blade and spun the grip in his hand. The metal glistened and danced in the light. “Despite its abhorrent history, it has served me well. It’s seen more bloodshed than I care to remember, but considering where it came from, I can’t imagine you wielding anything less.” He revealed an impression inlaid on the blade just below the hilt: the crest of Medial Alexandria. “You already wear a dagger from a specific grouping of weapons called the Alpha’s stock. Now you’ll wield the sword issued to a Sight of the Onyx Guard.”
He slapped the sword back into the scabbard and untied the string of my cloak with one pull, letting it fall to the ground. Placing a hand on my waist, he eased me towards him to slide the belt around my hips. The heavy sword pressed against my thigh.
“This sword has taken me many places, and I’ve become who I am as a result.” His fingers lingered over the belt buckle, lightly tickling my belly. “It’s yours now. It suits you.”
I ran my fingers over the diamond pommel. “It’s beautiful.”
“Ironic that something that resplendent has produced so much carnage.” He lifted my hand above my head, rotating me into a spin as he eyed every inch of my armed body.
I stepped away. This was too much. The sword was too beautiful and its history too graphic. I couldn’t allow him to part with it. “I can’t accept this.”
“You’ll have to if you intend to continue learning to fight,” he insisted. “You are going to need a sword capable of standing against mine. One that won’t fracture under the force I create. ” He tucked a curl behind my ear. “Besides, you’ll be doing me a favor by taking it. I don’t need two swords that haunt me.”
Relenting, I nodded.
“Aya.” He put his hand on the back of my head and refused to continue until he had captured my eyes. “More than any weapon you’ve trained with thus far—the wasters, the throwing blades—what we are about to start today, training in this manner, can kill you. You must apply everything you have learned. You have the advantage. You are a Fae. Use it.” He put his other hand on my cheek, forcing my utmost attention. “And there is one critical rule you must abide by on pain of death: under no circumstance do you ever grip the hilt of my sword. Do you understand me? Under. Absolutely. No. Circumstance.”
I let out a fidgety breath. “Okay, I won’t.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Darric backed away, worry etched across his face. His chest shook with each slow exhale. He pulled his blade free of the scabbard and waited.
I fumbled with the grip of my new weapon, unsure of the exact placement of my fingers.
A light breeze whistled through the wisteria and feathered wisps of blond hair across Darric’s forehead. The soft trickle of the waterfall emptying into the forest pond echoed off the rocks. I was aware of these details, yet the world fell silent, leaving only the silvery metallic song of my blade raking against the scabbard to linger in my ears.
The moment I pulled the sword free, my hearing came back with a vengeance. Sounds were amplified. My muscles warmed and pulsed. The feeling was extraordinary. Nothing had ever felt so natural, as though I’d been crafted specifically to wield a sword.
Darric moved too fast for my eyes, but I could hear everything. The sing of metal cutting the air sounded unlike anything in existence. Unmistakable. A light whistling that held a winsome delicacy in the same way blood can be beautiful.
It felt as if it took me forever to respond. Time slowed until I could physically see the flow of it resonate through the battle. I lifted my sword above my head and blocked the fall of his blade. His sword landed hard onto mine. The forceful clash sounded like glasses breaking and vibrated up my arm, sending tremors through my shoulders and down the full length of my spine. I didn’t realize I screamed until the shriek echoed off the cliffs. I raked my blade against his, using his own crushing strength against him, and spun out of his blow.
“That was good,” he breathed steadily.
I degraded his compliment by wrinkling my nose. He was the enemy. Someone wielding a weapon intent on destroying me. The stinging rip on my heart fueled a surge of strength through all my new muscle.
I unleashed an attack, and he met my sword. Each new block and counterblow of lustrous alloy materialized faster than I had time to process. He laid me to shame. Suddenly, I was forced into one defensive move after another. His nimble strides quickened. The blows of his sword became heavier. My vision flashed with sparks and swings of blurred metal.
I lost my rhythm, and his blade came within a hairsbreadth of my head. He snatched my arm and tripped me. I plunged into his chest, finding the sharp edge of his sword at my throat.
“
You’re going to have to do better than that,” he growled in a heavy pant against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’re dead.”
I shut my eyes, attempting to block out his entrancing voice that brought ice to the warmest summer day.
“Stay controlled while making defensive moves,” he said as I shook free, careful not to rake my throat on his sword. “Fluid, relaxed swings make the sword heavier and inflict the maximum amount of damage. When you feel as though you are on the losing end, keep up your defenses and patiently wait for an opening. The moment you tense, your enemy gains leverage. Mastering damaging attacks while blocking defensively is key, and doing both at once is what separates the living from the dead.”
I rotated the grip to try my first flourish with an actual sword, and my feet went out from under me when Darric’s shin slammed into the backs of my knees. He caught me before I hit the grass and raised an eyebrow. “Aware and alert makes for accuracy,” he reiterated.
“Ugh, I hate it when you do that.” I dropped my sword to push against his chest.
“Then stop allowing me to do it.” He steadied me as I regained my footing.
Truly fighting against Darric was exhausting. Avoiding his constant barrage brought a new level of torment to my aching muscles. Unlike with the wasters, the danger felt real. The rush of wind whipped past me with each of Darric’s blisteringly fast swings, as if I’d be cut cleanly in half if I didn’t instantaneously get out of the way. I learned to move at speeds I didn’t know I could achieve. My ankles felt broken from the footwork. The repeated rolling of my shoulders, elbows, and wrists caused my joints to feel loose and cry for relief.
“You’re getting faster,” he complimented, giving me a moment to rest. I watched his boots pace in front of me while I panted on all fours into the grass blades. He had knocked my sword from my grip, and it lay several feet from me, shining in the noon sunlight. “I’ll increase my rate of attack tomorrow. In a week, we’ll start dual wielding.”
I huffed out a groan and pushed back onto my heels. The thought of fighting him while he had two swords sent my head into a spin. “I can’t. There is no chance I can survive if you’re dual wielding.”
Dreams of the Fae: Transcendence Page 37