The stone could be another test. The Ice-Witch knew why Anise sought her out. She’d have known that Anise couldn’t activate a portal stone on her own, that she’d need help.
If Caraway hadn’t been there, she’d probably have had to barter with the troll to get him to activate it, or to travel to a village and find a high fae to help her.
With a sigh, she faced the guard on top of the wall surrounding the Order compound. He wore a helmet made from hardened leather and a black leather Guardian uniform. A longbow was in his hands, and a quiver of arrows strapped to his back.
“Excuse me,” she said, waving up to him.
He looked down.
“I’m running late for my appointment. Would you mind terribly if you activated my portal stone for me? I’m afraid I’m not as strong as you and lack your power.”
When in doubt, she always found a well-timed ego-stroking compliment worked. He blinked, glanced over his shoulder to the other side of the wall, and then nodded.
“Toss it up.”
Trying not to hide her smile, she threw it. He caught it deftly and pointed to where he was going to activate the portal. Within moments, a bright light tore a slice through the fabric of space. The light grew in size until it became a giant circle, her destination showing through the middle in a brightly blurred scene of snow and ice.
This was it.
Her heart pounded. She experienced a flicker of doubt at leaving her friend, but knew it was for the best. If she couldn’t even see the Ice-Witch on her own, then what was the point of going on this quest?
She tossed a grateful smile at the guard, and then walked through the portal.
Chapter 6
After leaving the child with a Mage, Caraway returned to the gate with an incorrigible smile on his face. Even the Prime’s tongue-lashing about working outside the scope of his station hadn’t ruffled his fur. He’d done something that felt good.
Because of him, this child would have the chance to grow up.
This was why he’d left his family in the first place—to save those who couldn’t save themselves. It was why he became a Guardian. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten that, despite Anise’s urging to do so. Some part of him must have still been locked into an old way of thinking, one where he could only do his job if he colored inside the lines. But life wasn’t ordered. It was chaotic.
“Violence begets violence,” his mother had once said.
“Violence protects. It teaches your enemy to be afraid of you.”
“Well, congratulations, son. We are now afraid of you.”
He shoved the memories down and focused on the one shining light in his life. Anise. He couldn’t wait to tell her what he’d said when the Prime had tried to block him from leaving. He’d told her that if she wanted to keep him as a Guardian, then she’d better get used to him stepping in to help those unfortunate, whether it was Well-related or not. He’d said the Order needed this kind of image boost after the Prime’s totalitarian ways, and then he didn’t stop to wait for the Prime’s response.
Coming up to the gate, he gestured for the guard on top to open it and let him out. When he emerged into the field outside the Order compound, he couldn’t find Anise. At first, he thought perhaps she’d gone inside after all, but he’d barely spent time at the Academy where he’d flagged down a healing Mage. The Prime had accosted him on the way back out. If Anise had entered the compound, she’d have walked straight past him.
He lifted his gaze to the sentry’s post and squinted into the sun.
“Where did the female go?” he asked.
The guard shrugged. “Somewhere snowy, I guess.”
Caraway’s heart clenched. “What do you mean?”
“She asked me to activate her portal stone. Said she couldn’t do it.”
No.
Caraway shook his head, refusing to believe it. She wouldn’t leave without him, would she? He’d felt like they were finally connecting again. But she had left. Not only had she entered dangerous territory on her own, but she was still planning on going through with her quest for the ability to shift. No bargain made with the Ice-Witch would be safe. And then there was the mission part of his reason for following her. Caraway might not agree with the Prime’s way of leading sometimes, but he stood behind the Order’s mission to keep magic alive in Elphyne. They needed to know whether the Ice-Witch was responsible for supplying the human enemy with mana-warped monsters.
Mild panic swarmed his skin like prickling ant bites. He had to get Leaf. Without preamble, he headed back into the Order to find the Cadre of Twelve’s team leader, and resident expert at tracing portals.
Caraway stood behind Leaf and Aeron as they assessed the space in the air where Anise’s portal had been activated. Leaf glared at the space with glowing blue eyes. It seemed as if he saw through the air to another dimension. His compatriot, Aeron, also looked at something Caraway couldn’t see.
They were tracing the portal—tracking where it had sent Anise.
Both elves were adept at casting spells with their inherent mana. As far as Caraway knew, there was no one more skilled than Leaf. He shuddered to think how powerful Leaf would become if he gained a Well-blessed mate like his cadre members, Rush and Thorne.
Aeron’s braided brown hair swung down his spine every time he nodded to Leaf with another increment of portal remnant he assessed.
Caraway could see none of it.
This skill took decades, possibly centuries, to hone. It was why these two were part of the cadre, the Order’s most elite warriors, and not Caraway.
“I’ve almost got it,” Leaf murmured. Small droplets of perspiration dotted the skin over his smooth top lip.
“She’s far north-west,” Aeron added. “In the cold.”
Leaf made a swiping motion with his hand, and a tearing sound ripped through the air. He reopened the portal and turned to Caraway, “I hope she brought a woolen cape.”
Caraway gave a curt nod. He didn’t need one. Being a muskox-shifter, and one of the fire-fae, his temperature ran hot.
Aeron put something smooth into Caraway’s palm. When Caraway looked down, he found another portal stone. But he’d already taken one from the Mage Academy. He raised a brow at Aeron.
“It’s from Clarke. It’s keyed to Rush’s cabin.”
“Why?” Caraway asked. Clarke was psychic. Had she seen some reason that he’d be needing to take a detour home?
Aeron shrugged. “Who knows with Clarke? I’m guessing she’ll want to meet you there before you come here.”
Caraway nodded his gratitude, braced, and then headed through the portal.
Leaf reminded Caraway as he left, “Just reconnaissance.”
The Ice-Forest was aptly named for the trees of frozen water. Clear crystalline trunks four hand-spans wide stretched high into the blue sky. Icicle leaves swayed and tinkled with the arctic breeze as Caraway navigated the only path available. The portal had taken him to the brink of the forest. It was either head backward over a vast icy tundra, or deep into the forest. It made sense the Ice-Witch would live in a frozen forest—he hoped—and not the barren tundra.
But the further he trekked, the more doubt crept into his mind. Every few hundred feet, he picked up a new worrying sign that things weren’t going according to Anise’s plan.
Specks of blood were stark against the ice. At first, the drops looked like they’d come from a scratch, or a shallow wound, but then he came to a place in the path where ice had chipped away from trunks, the ground was littered with fallen icicle leaves, and the tiny red droplets arced in a line as though someone had been cut and blood had spurted. With each passing minute, he stared at the blood spatter, his chest constricted painfully until it felt like his ribcage squashed his heart.
Anise had to be okay.
He wouldn’t accept another outcome.
A screech shook the leaves and a shower of ice rained down on Caraway’s head. He released Justice and crouched into a battle stan
ce, ears straining, and eyes searching the sky. A light shadow blocked the sun. Then another, and another. Screeching grew in timbre. More powdered ice dropped from the trees.
What’s up there?
Air trembled.
Crushed shards of leaves fell to the ground, hitting his shoulders.
Glamor was a common tool in the fae arsenal, and whatever hunted him could be using it to hide from sight. Then again, it could also be a camouflage system of the beasts. Caraway closed his eyes and focused on senses other than sight. He let the air enter his lungs, held, and then exhaled slowly. Through it all, his ears strained and he sent out a blanket of magic to surround him. Whether it was his pacifist roots or something the Well had gifted him during his initiation ceremony, Caraway had learned that as a Guardian, he excelled in protective spells, including casting forcefields around his body—or the baby he’d saved.
Any being entering his immediate surroundings would trigger his alarm system, and he’d know where to strike.
All he had to do was wait.
So he breathed, and he listened, and he sensed. Like trying to catch a fish, he waited for a thrumming ping down the line he’d cast.
Ping.
He spun and thrust Justice into a solid ice wall. An ear-piercing shriek rattled his bones, and a crashing sound like breaking glass followed. When he opened his eyes, he paused from the sheer shock of what he saw. A broken sculpture of a gargoyle made from ice, not stone. But he could’ve sworn it had been moving through the air, rattling the leaves of the trees enough to shatter them.
Caraway nudged the large broken chunks of solid ice with his sword. No blood, just a clear crystalline body through and through. If he’d needed any evidence the witch was creating mana-warped monsters, this could be it. Except... the ice would melt soon, and there would be nothing left. He needed more.
The ice also meant the blood he’d seen on the way had indeed belonged to Anise.
He was still lost in thought when he heard another screech, only then remembering that he’d heard more than one creature calling earlier. A thud behind him had him tensing. He gripped the hilt of his sword painfully. A bloom of white breath ghosted over his shoulder. He whirled, ready to strike, and came face to face with another angry ice-gargoyle. It opened its jaws, screeched again. Its white breath turned putrid and green.
Was it... poison?
Dark spots swam before his eyes. He tried to swing at the beast, knowing the magic-nulling properties of his sword would help, but staggered like a drunk to the floor where everything went dark.
Too late.
His last thought was of Anise’s sassy smile.
Chapter 7
Their prison was a domed room made of solid snow. Light came from the only exit, guarded by two winged beasts carved from ice. There was no water, no food, and no toilet.
Anise gently patted Caraway’s cheek but he didn’t stir.
Crimson, when those frozen beasts had dragged his lifeless body in, she’d felt sick. It still hadn’t returned to normal. He had to wake soon. He had to!
She patted his cheek again. No reaction. But at least he was warm and breathed evenly.
In an attempt to calm herself, Anise shifted her position so she could sit against the solid snow wall and lifted Caraway’s big head into her lap. It felt better to hold him.
He moaned. She let her knuckles graze his cheek and then rasp over the scruff on his jaw. She’d always fantasized about touching him... his face, his jaw, his horns. But the horns weren’t there this time. He was a shifter, so perhaps he’d morphed them away. She’d just never seen him do that in all the years she’d known him.
It wouldn’t surprise her if he’d chosen to keep his horns visible when he didn’t have to. Usually, a shifters’ natural fae-form was close to human, with only arched ears as a sign they were other, touched by the magic of the Well, but never Caraway. He’d always had his curved lethal horns proudly jutting from his head. He’d probably left them there to look as far from human as he could.
Humans were manaless, untouched, greedy leeches that constantly tried to invade Elphyne and reap the benefits of the Well, yet refused to follow the rules that provided Well’s magic in the first place.
No metal. No plastic. Two simple rules.
But the humans had run out of metals in their city. They’d come raiding in Elphyne to look for places to mine for resources.
Caraway’s peace-loving family were victims of one such raid. As nomads, they’d lived amongst the western snowy tundra. A human-led raiding party had massacred half his tribe. His family’s answer was to migrate further inland. Caraway’s answer was to join the Guardians where he gained enhanced powers to help him hunt humans and return the favor.
Anise’s home town, Crescent Hollow, was the closest fae settlement to the human city. Because of this proximity, Caraway was always there, sitting in the tavern where Anise had worked. Sometimes before a hunt, sometimes after, but every time he spoke of the race that murdered his kinsfolk, his cheeks would redden with fury.
“That’s what I like about you folk here in Crescent Hollow,” he’d once said. “You’re so far from human even though you’re so close. You never forget what it means to be fae.”
Crescent Hollow was a wolf-shifter town. But Anise couldn’t shift.
“Without your tail and ears, you’re basically human!”
The cruel taunts of her childhood still haunted her. She couldn’t be the thing that Caraway hated. She had to stand on her own two feet and hold her own the way mana-filled fae could.
Caraway stirred again.
Long lashes lifted slowly, warily. Warm brown eyes focused on her and then widened.
“You’re okay,” he said, incredulously. “But I saw blood.”
She smiled gently and showed her healing forearm. “I cut myself on one of those ice beasts, but I had some elven healing cream in my bag. I’ve stopped bleeding now.”
He blinked, seemingly processing her words. Then he sat up sharply and enveloped her smaller body within his. The force of his strong arms locked around her. She stiffened on reflex until his hold tightened, and then she melted into him.
For long, silent minutes, they held each other and the world was right.
It was just the two of them, warm bodies fused together in an icy world. Why couldn’t life be this simple?
Caraway pulled back just enough that he could look down into her eyes.
“Anise,” he said, voice deep and rough. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m here,” she replied.
Charged awareness bounced between them. They were close. So Well-damned close that she could stick out her tongue and lick his lips. Crimson, she wanted to. They’d never been in an embrace like this, and they both knew it.
How would he react? Would he pull away and act as many others did?
What are you dumb as well as less? The voice of her last customer rang through her mind. Her heart sank. She lowered her eyes, but Caraway used his finger to tilt her chin up. This time, there was an intensity in his gaze that rocked her to her core. Heat and desire stirred in her lower belly. Confused, she frowned at him.
His intensity held until she squirmed. Then he licked his lips, looked down at hers, and leaned in until there was no doubt in her mind what he was about to do. She froze with anticipation. Her nerves thrummed with energy.
The tips of their noses touched and his lashes shuttered as though he was in pain. Their breaths came in stilted gasps… and then he moved his lips an iota. Closer.
They didn’t kiss. Not yet. Maybe he was thinking the same things as she—that this kiss would change everything. That this was the one thing she’d always wanted, but feared would never happen. That he would turn away and change his mind. That she was less, and not good enough.
But he nudged his lips toward hers. He closed the gap. He lifted her chin. Almost.
And then... soft lips landed on hers, capturing her mouth, leaving her breathless.
She went liquid with a moan.
Caraway growled with approval, splayed a big hand at her back, and tugged her closer as though she weighed nothing to him. Damn, he was strong. It sent a thrill tripping through her stomach. Her soft front slammed against his hard chest and he deepened their kiss.
Yes. He wanted this too.
Knowing it flipped a switch inside her. She speared fingers into his hair, tightened her grip, kissed harder, and drank him up. Her tongue dueled with his and plundered his mouth for more. His taste was like a drug, and he must have felt the same way because he held her so tight she could barely move. When they finally broke for air, they still couldn’t let go of each other.
He felt hot, hard, a little sweaty, and she wanted more.
“Anise,” he rasped deeply, eyes searching hers. Something flickered in them, and her doubt came hurtling back.
He’s going to say this is a mistake.
Before he could speak, she blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Your horns are gone. I’ve never seen you without them.”
He blinked. His jaw clicked shut. And he frowned. “What?”
She gestured to his head.
Caraway’s looming body pulled back. His warmth went with him.
“So stupid. I forgot,” he admonished himself.
The air shimmered around his head, and then two sharp horns grew from above his temples until they curved down and outward from his cheekbones.
The shame in his posture surprised Anise. His eyes turned downcast.
“It’s because you think you look human without the horns, don’t you?” she asked, and then elaborated. “You keep the horns so you look different to those who killed your family.”
He jerked back. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. I guess you’re always talking about how much you hate them, and how much you love the shifters at Crescent Hollow looking so different to them.”
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