by Caris Roane
She shrugged. “Two or three of them work the land, but otherwise, no.”
He moved closer. “Willow, what the fuck is going on here?”
She glanced up at him. “I’m breaking a big rule by taking you to see these people, but I swear I don’t want to say more than that. I just need you to see and to judge this for yourself.”
He stared at her for a long moment. He could have demanded more information, but something in her serious demeanor told him to go with the flow. “All right, that’s fine. I get it; your restraint comes from your commitment to protect these families.”
“That’s exactly right.”
“There’s only one problem.”
“What’s that?” She actually looked confused.
He held up the torn sleeve of his shirt, then displayed the rip down the side of his Guardsman coat as well as the deep lacerations on his arm only partially healed.
She frowned slightly and he swore she’d never looked prettier, even though she, too, was smudged with battle stains because of what they’d done in the vines. “That is a problem.”
“I’m going to head home, get cleaned up, healed up and I’ll be back within the hour. How does that sound?”
Her shoulders relaxed. “I think that’s the best idea yet.”
Once the decision was made, he kissed Willow then took off out the door of the bedroom treehouse, launching high into the air above the forest canopy.
He flew slowly at first, until he realized that the more time he spent apart from Willow the greater the chance another mastyr could swoop in.
He put on some speed.
He’d never showered so fast in his life and didn’t give a damn that some of his cuts weren’t healed or that the soap hurt like a bitch.
As he dried off, he worked at his healing and fell over once just trying to get into a fresh pair of leathers. He felt desperate to return to Willow and make sure she was safe.
By the time he was back in the air, he contacted her. Everything okay?
Yes, fine. But are you okay? You sound out of breath.
He could tell by her tone that she was a little bewildered by his concern, which meant everything at her treehouse was just fine. I’m good. I’ll be there right away.
He ate up the miles, flying faster than he ever had, so that in less than two minutes he touched down on her porch and knocked on her door.
“Come in. I’m almost ready.”
But when he opened the door, he almost fell over again. Willow had no doubt showered and now looked dressed for a party. She’d pulled part of her hair up on top of her head, the rest dangling down her back. She wore the dress he’d seen laid out on the bed, the front cut low so that he had an excellent view of a perfect line of cleavage. She’d donned a necklace made up of a string of quarter-inch amethyst crystals which set off her creamy skin and auburn hair. The gown touched the tops of flat gold sandals with a string of small amethysts on the front cross-straps.
“You look … amazing.”
She touched the sides of the gown. “Thank you.”
“And very much on the formal side. I’m feeling underdressed.”
At that, she came to him and placed her hand on the padded shoulder of his coat. “You look perfect. Your Guard uniform is revered among these … families.”
And there it was again. He was sure she was holding back, telling him just enough so that she wasn’t quite lying to him. “If you’re ready, then let’s go.”
She nodded. “I’m ready.”
He returned to the porch and the next moment she stood on his boot and he was holding her tight around her waist.
Before he took off, however, he kissed her, which made her sigh in response.
When he drew back, he looked at her for a long moment. “Willow, I don’t know what all this means, but you’re important to me. I want you to know that.”
She nodded. “I know. And you’re important to me.”
She then tucked in her gown and leaned her head against his shoulder, holding him tighter still.
He levitated above the canopy again and headed back to the granite monolith, the fall of vines, and the secret entrance to the place where the wraiths lived.
“I take it we’re expected,” he said, as he touched down and she stepped off his boot.
“Yes, of course. I contacted one of the leaders, so we’ll be welcomed formally as I thought we would be. But I should warn you that there will be a small ceremony of greeting, then we’ll be given a tour. But first I want to assure you that what you’re about to see was never meant as a reflection of your rule as Mastyr of Ashleaf, but of the need for these pure blood wraiths to protect themselves. Please remember that.”
“Now you have me shaking in my boots.”
But that made her laugh. She then waved her arm and at least half the vines simply vanished. She led him inside and once the vines behind them returned, she again waved her arm and the rest disappeared.
He blinked and, for a moment, had to shield his eyes because all he saw was a strong white light. The vampire in him interpreted the glow as something dangerous and he kept his boots planted to the ground inside what proved to be a short tunnel cut through the monolith.
She turned back to him and extended her hand. “The light is created by the people. You’ll see. It’s very safe for both fae and vampires.”
He took her hand and by now he’d gotten used to the glow and knew that it wasn’t at all like the damaging rays of the sun. But how the hell was it possible for wraiths to create this kind of illumination?
As the remaining vines moved out of Willow’s way, and together they stepped into the light, what greeted his eyes caused him to stop dead in his tracks.
“What the hell?” he murmured beneath his breath. What is this, Willow? What am I looking at and how could I not have known this existed in my realm?
She turned to him. “I never wanted to lie to you, Malik, but I withheld the knowledge of this very ancient wraith colony because I’m their Protector.”
He stood beside her and let his gaze travel slowly around what was a large town square, the street laid with granite pavers, shops on both sides over which families lived. Every window and doorway was jammed with wraiths watching them, and the square was full of curious citizens as well. But what also surprised him was that most of these wraiths were in what he believed was a fae form.
He turned to Willow. “Fae, yet not fae?”
“It’s the form these wraiths can take to move more easily about in the world. The shifting from fae to wraith is a skill that is learned from childhood.”
He shook his head because his mind spun. He couldn’t seem to make sense of what he was looking at.
She once again took his hand. “Come this way. I want you to meet the leaders of this colony, both of whom knew Davido a couple thousand years ago.”
Sweet Goddess. Very few realm-folk lived into the range of multiple millennia.
The crowd that had gathered in the square, near a tall stone obelisk, parted for them until he saw a beautiful fae wearing an elaborate necklace of feathers and beside her an elegant male fae with his wavy hair swept away from his face. They were a handsome couple.
The closer he drew, however, the more he felt their shared power, a joint power that seemed to emanate from the earth. He understood in that moment that he was looking at Realm royalty, figures from past eons that had served the Nine Realms in a quiet capacity all their lives. He resonated with their commitment, just as he knew Willow did.
“Mastyr Malik, may I present Illiandra and Gervassay of the Ashleaf Realm Colony?” She turned to the couple. “Mistress Illiandra and Lord Gervassay, Vampire Mastyr Malik of Ashleaf Realm, in service these two-hundred-years.”
Very formal.
Illiandra spoke. “We are honored to meet you at last, Mastyr Malik. My husband and I welcome you to our colony and we’ve opened our hearts and our homes to you this fine realm night. Mistress Willow, will you and Mastyr Ma
lik receive a blessing?”
“We will.”
Malik felt the pressure of Willow’s hand on the inside of his arm and didn’t at first know what she meant by it, until two lovely young fae girls moved forward to spread out a thick rug before the couple.
Willow leaned close and whispered, “We’re expected to kneel.” In any other circumstance, he might have balked at the requirement. He didn’t expect anyone to ever abase themselves before him, all realm-folk being equal.
But right now, in Ashleaf Colony, a frequency rose up and surrounded him of such great peace, that he felt as though he must be in the presence of the Goddess. Maybe he was.
He lowered himself to his knees and Willow followed suit. He bowed his head, so overcome that his soul felt ready to bust out of his skin.
As Illiandra began speaking in a different language, every vibration he possessed moved softly through his body. His surroundings were completely forgotten as the woman’s voice rose and fell. In the middle of it, he took Willow’s hand and she gave his fingers an answering squeeze. He could feel that she was as overwhelmed as he was.
Odd to think he’d expected to meet a few wraith families living in various farmhouses, and instead he found a large town and a spiritual depth that stunned him.
When Illiandra finished, he felt her touch his shoulder, the cue to rise. The moment he gained his feet, Willow as well, the two girls quickly gathered up the rug.
For a long moment, Malik could neither move nor speak. His heart felt incredibly full. He finally turned in a slow circle, wanting to greet all the onlookers as well, the very quiet fae-wraiths that watched him with open, innocent expressions. How different they were from the Invictus, those wraiths turned by Margetta’s foul methods into vicious killers.
He lifted his arms, palms up, then spoke in a loud voice. “I am so happy to meet all of you tonight.” He then pressed one fist against his chest.
There was silence for a moment, after which a loud sustained cheering filled the square.
He turned with a question in his eyes toward Willow, but she only smiled. They love you, she pathed. They know the sacrifices you’ve made, the laws you’ve instituted on their behalf. Many of them have half-breed children, and grand-children in various parts of the Nine Realms.
Malik had never needed to be told his role was valuable in Ashleaf. Hell, one of the first things he’d done was to enact laws to protect wraiths and half-breeds. But this acknowledgement, so full of obvious appreciation and gratitude, moved him as nothing else could.
He took another turn and waved, meeting as many pairs of eyes as he could. He nodded and smiled, and from his heart silently thanked these fellow realm-folk who’d lived in constant danger from Axton and The Society all these centuries.
At last, he faced Illiandra and Gervassay again, and the latter lifted his arms, encouraging the crowd to quiet down. “And now, Illiandra and I will show Mastyr Malik our fair town.”
This seemed to be a prearranged cue, because the town folk scattered like mad, running here and there back to their shops and dwellings. Many laughing collisions couldn’t be avoided.
Malik had no idea what was going on until the wraith couple took the lead, asking Malik and Willow to follow behind.
Okay, he never thought he’d be part of a processional going down what proved to be two miles of a very long High Street. It turned out that the few wraith families Willow protected was a township with surrounding farms, villages and hamlets for a combined population some twenty thousand strong.
He’d never smiled so much or felt so deeply honored in his entire existence than during this walk he shared with Willow. Many called out her name as well and blessed her for her service. She blushed often, as if unused to the accolades.
At the end of the High Street, a small villa came into view. But what caught his eye was how the land really opened up, and he had to blink several times. Ashleaf Realm as a forested mountain world had little pasture and farmland, yet that’s exactly what he saw as a soft, green landscape rolled to the western horizon as far as the eye could see.
And Willow’s protective spell had kept all of this from view.
He tried to think just how many times he might have flown over the same square miles – thousands of times, no doubt – but he had no real recollection of any unaccounted for land.
Once more he was stunned by Willow’s level of power and how she could prevent even his eyes from seeing this land.
When Illiandra reached the path to the villa, she turned to him. “Gervassay and I would like Willow to show you the breadth of the colony, if you would fly her over. And when you’re done, come back here and we’ll share a meal together. How does that sound?”
“Wonderful.” Yet, the word seemed inadequate.
Gervassay offered his arm to his wife, and when they headed down the front path to their home, Malik took Willow high into the air so he could get a bird’s eye view of the protected twenty square miles. To Willow, he pathed, How do you do it? How do you shield this much land?
He passed over a number of farms and a few smaller villages and hamlets. The countryside was more pastoral than any other part of his realm.
I’ll make a confession, Willow responded. One of the reasons I decided to bring you here was because I’ve reached some sort of limit in my protective ability.
Alexandra the Bad taught me well and I’ve gained in power under Illiandra’s tutelage. But right now, I’m maxed out. If one more baby is born, or one more home built, or if any of the flocks increase in size, I don’t think I’ll be able to offer the same level of protection.
You’ve been burdened.
I’m not complaining, Malik, I promise you that. I’ve loved serving the colony all this time. It’s been my privilege.
He thought about the deaths of her parents. And a way of honoring your mother’s family.
Yes, at the very least that.
But now you need help.
There’s no question in my mind that I can’t do this alone anymore.
CHAPTER FIVE
Later, Willow sat beside Malik at Illiandra’s table. Their hostess served a simple vegetable soup with stoneware in a beautiful shade of dark teal. Slices of flavorful herbed goat cheese, toasted sour dough bread with a hint of basil-butter, and home-grown tomato slices tasted of heaven.
The flight with Malik had shifted something inside Willow that she found very hard to define. He was no longer just the mastyr of the realm or the man who had chased her through the forest. With each shared encounter, he was becoming more real, more man, more of a companion and that scared her. And he was the only realm-person, besides Illiandra, who knew that she’d reached the limits of her ability to properly guard the colony.
She’d never thought she’d end up with a vampire one day. Her desire had always tended to more intellectual fae males, and her fantasies had involved being married, having babies, and living close to one of the Realm universities.
Mating with a vampire had never entered her thoughts. Of course she was drawn to Malik and in one sense how could she be anything else? He was handsome with large brown eyes that right now had fixed themselves on Gervassay as the fae spoke, of all things, about septic tanks. Of course, waste management in a mountainous realm like Ashleaf was a serious topic.
She was tuned into Malik, the level of his interest in the colony, his enjoyment of the savory soup, and his constant concern for the inhabitants of Ashleaf, including pure-blood wraiths.
Once the septic tank issue had been fully explored, Illiandra asked, “I heard a report that you’re talking about relocating all the half-breeds in Ashleaf to Swanicott Island.”
Malik didn’t even flinch as he met Illiandra’s gaze. “I have no choice. The recent murders, which I’m sure you know about, have made the decision for me. I won’t have another half-breed’s death on my conscience. And by the same token, given Axton’s intention to breach the hidden entrance, I think we should talk about relocating your c
olony as well.”
Willow dropped her spoon, clattering it on her bread plate. She turned to Malik. “You’re bringing that up now?”
He met her gaze, then looked away, his eyes growing pained. He shook his head several times. “I don’t see why not.” He glanced from Gervassay to Illiandra. “Maybe you’ve lived a safe, cloistered existence, but since The Society took over, I’ve had over three hundred murders to contend with. And I won’t have one more.” He lifted both hands, as though the matter was settled.
Both Illiandra and Gervassay appeared somber, but hadn’t reacted as Willow had expected. Something else seemed to be on their minds.
Gervassay folded his hands in his lap. “There’s just one problem.”
“And what’s that?” Malik’s deep voice, full of tension, sounded loud in the small dining area.
“Our people won’t leave. Haven’t you guessed it, yet Malik? Felt it? I believe you must have when my wife blessed the two of you in the town square.”
Malik, his jaw bearing a stubborn line, once more shook his head. “The blessing was absolutely beautiful, no question. But beyond that—”
Illiandra spoke quickly. “Malik, what my husband is not saying is that there’s something else you need to understand and perhaps experience. Let me ask you this, can you feel a vibration beneath you, coming from the earth?”
“I can,” Willow offered. “I feel it all the time when I’m here in the colony or anywhere on my land.”
Malik glanced at her, his brow pinched. “Yes, of course I feel it. It’s like a humming. Is this where the light comes from as well?”
Illiandra nodded. “Absolutely. What you’re feeling is the heartbeat of the Nine Realms. This is where it all began, the birthplace of our world, and where the Goddess, our Creator, set everything in motion.”
Willow had never heard Illiandra speak of the Ashleaf Colony in that way before, but she felt her words as truth. She also wanted to give expression to something she’d been considering for a long time. “We’re all wraiths, aren’t we? All of us in the Nine Realms?”