The Rise of Fortune and Fury

by Sawyer Bennett

  Deandra just blinks.

  “I like your outfit.” I sweep my eyes down it. “The shoes are killer.”

  More blinking.

  “Oh, to hell with it.” I heave a sigh as I push up from the couch. “Come on. Carrick wants to talk to you.”

  Deandra stands, moves back to the chair where she deposited her purse, and grabs it. When she turns, her eyes land on Zora.

  She’d have to have seen her when she walked in and motioned for her and Zaid to give her room on the couch, but I think Deandra is just one of those Light Fae—no wait, one of those types of females because there are humans like this, too—who are just so stuck on themselves, they don’t notice much else.

  Deandra freezes as she takes in my identical twin. She knew about her since she was told everything with her heart binding to Carrick, but she had yet to see her.

  With a frown, she asks, “Why is your hair white?”

  Zora’s gaze slides to me, and I shrug. We’ve often pondered the same thing to each other. Zora told me it’s been white for as long as she can remember so we assumed it might have turned that way with the first infusion of magic they gave her.

  Before Zora can even respond, Deandra waves her hand. “Don’t bother answering. I just realized I don’t care.”

  I roll my eyes, and Maddox snorts.

  Deandra looks at me expectantly. “Shall we?”

  Meaning… Lead me on to Carrick, minion.

  “I’ll be back in a bit,” I say to Zora, then give my attention to Maddox. “You’ll watch over Blain.”

  “He’s fine but, yes, we’ll keep an eye on him.”

  I smile at Maddox—who has been my brother-in-law at times in the past—and dare a look to Zaid to see how pissed he still is. I get his normal grumpy face and I’m not sure how to take it, so I just give him an apologetic smile before leading Deandra away from the group and to Carrick’s office.

  While Deandra has been told everything related to me and the prophecy, in the short time she stayed here at Carrick’s condo until she moved into her own, she never saw the library. It’s not that we intentionally kept it secret from her, it’s that she had no interest in joining our cause so it was sort of moot to have her come down there to help research or discuss strategies.

  I revel slightly in the little gasp of surprise she makes when I hit the secret button and the wall slides open to reveal the spiral staircase. I take a step into the small alcove, but her voice stops me.

  “Did you use your magic?” she asks.

  Frowning, I glance back. “When?”

  “When you took on the daemons.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I reply turning fully to face her. “I used it to pick a lock to get in, then a shield against the bullets. But mostly, I ran like hell.”

  “That’s cowardly,” she rebukes.

  “Hardly,” I reply with a laugh. “However, you’d have been proud of me that I ran the gauntlet in Semper Terra and did amazing.”

  I wasn’t sure if she even knew what Semper Terra was, but when her eyebrows rise and an expression of what I think might be pride flickers over her features, I know she does.

  “You survived the gauntlet?” she drawls, her mouth curved slightly.

  “Piece of cake.” I snap my fingers and can’t resist teasing. “And I used lots of good magic, too. Are you proud of me?”

  Deandra scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. I’d have to like you to be proud of you.”

  I can’t help but laugh. It’s exactly what I’d expect her to say, and damn if I don’t find it a little endearing. It’s true I used to hate this snotty princess with all my being, but she helped me in the way that I needed it the most to be able to battle Kymaris and I will never, ever forget it.

  And deep down… I know Carrick is right. We do need Deandra on our side to help stop the ritual.

  “Come on,” I say, still chuckling as I descend the spiral staircase.

  Deandra follows, I imagine quite gracefully, but I don’t bother looking back. Carrick is at the head of the long table with a book open before him, but his head turns our way as he hears our descent.

  He doesn’t spare me but a curt look before turning his attention to Deandra with a smile. “Thanks for coming.”

  Waving at the table, he says, “Please sit. Would you like anything to drink?”

  “I’d love some tea,” she replies as she deposits her purse on the table, pulls a chair out to Carrick’s right, and settles into it. She gracefully crosses one leg over the other.

  Carrick’s gaze comes to me. “Finley… would you mind getting—”

  “Yes, I mind,” I reply curtly, cutting him off. I’m grateful to Deandra for what she’s done for me, but I’m not fetching her tea. Walking around to sit at Carrick’s left, directly across from Deandra, I plop down in a chair and kick my feet up on the table, crossing them at the ankle. Smiling sweetly at Carrick, I say, “I’ll be glad to ask Zaid to send down a service.”

  I’m feeling rather good about myself when a muscle starts ticking in Carrick’s jaw, but his attention is caught when Deandra leans forward in her chair a bit. “Forget about tea. Just tell me what you need. I do have a life, you know.”

  Carrick—whose eyes are still on me—slowly twists to look at the princess. “Your life isn’t going to be worth much in about a week.”

  Deandra’s chin jerks in slightly. “Why not?”

  “Because Kymaris has everything she needs to complete the ritual, including the Blood Stone, and unless we mount some type of massive opposition, the Earth is going to be overrun when she tears the veil down.”

  Before Deandra can ask a question, or think to decline at this point, I ask Carrick, “What happened when you went to Hungary?”

  He may still be pissed at me for rescuing Blain, but he’s not about to withhold information. Attention now back on me, he tells me exactly what happened.

  “The power from the Blood Stone was immense. She catapulted Maddox and me through a wall, and I could tell she used a fraction of the power that stone was giving off.”

  “She held back,” I murmur, pondering why she wouldn’t just go for the kill. Maybe because she knew they couldn’t be killed.

  “She held back so she wouldn’t show you all her cards,” Deandra says, and yeah… that sounds right.

  “Agreed,” Carrick says with a nod Deandra’s way. “She wanted to show us enough to perhaps discourage any opposition.”

  “And you say Amell appeared and helped her?” I ask for clarification.

  Carrick nods. “His loyalty is to her and not Zora. At least that’s my take on things.”

  “Who is this Amell?” Deandra asks curiously, and I’m surprised she’s actually drawn into the conversation. I pretty much figured she’d tell us Kymaris was our problem, that she could live fine in a world overrun with Dark Fae, and why wouldn’t she? Her own power is immense.

  I take the time to explain Amell and his relationship with Zora.

  But that leads us to the real reason I’m sure Carrick brought Deandra here. It’s not just to recruit her, but to do so after she understands exactly who the enemy is.

  “Your brother is involved with Kymaris,” Carrick says to Deandra, and we both watch her carefully.

  Her shock is genuine, but it’s not effusive. “Kymaris? You’re kidding me?”

  “For decades,” I explain. “They fell in love, and he used your mother’s staff to rip a small tear in the veil between Faere and the Underworld to visit her.”

  Deandra grimaces. “Now that’s just gross.”

  “He helped her with the changeling ritual,” Carrick continues. “Using your mother’s stone power to funnel light magic into Finley’s sister, Zora. Then Dark Fae priests twisted it dark.”

  “So he knew all this time what Kymaris was planning on doing,” Deandra murmurs, more to herself than anything as her eyes go a little hazy. She’s clearly absorbing and considering the repercussions.

  Her vision clears as she gives
a hard look at Carrick. “If she’s successful, they could breach Faere with the Blood Stone.”

  Carrick nods. She now understands this is more than just saving Earth and humans.

  “That asshole,” she snarls, referencing her brother. “That’s treason against the throne.”

  “I think he’s fully aware of that,” I say gently before telling her what I’d learned from the moment he’d kidnapped me until now.

  The news is heavy, and the normally poised, overconfident Deandra slumps back in her chair. She stares blankly at the table for a few seconds before bringing her gaze first to Carrick, and then surprisingly to me where it stays.

  “We can’t let Kymaris succeed. I will stand with you to help thwart the prophecy.”

  “Thank you, Deandra,” I reply with a solemn nod. “Your help is most welcome.”

  “There’s only one thing I request in return,” she grits out, pushing herself up so her spine is ramrod straight in the chair.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  Her eyes gleam with wickedness, but not the type that would frighten me to any extent. She glances at Carrick, then back to me. “Pyke is mine.”

  I almost ask her what she means, then it hits me.

  She intends to kill her brother for his betrayal and perfidy.

  “He’s yours,” I reply. I want to ask her how she’ll do it as their powers are matched, but I figure that’s just rude.

  “We need more than just you,” Carrick says and though his voice is low and quiet, it packs a forceful punch. We both look his way, but it’s Deandra he’s addressing. “We need your mother, father, and all Light Fae who will join.”

  “Impossible,” Deandra says with a wave of her hand. “My mother would never lower herself—”

  “She needs to understand Kymaris will eventually come for her and Faere. She’ll lay it to waste with the Blood Stone.”

  Deandra sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. It’s such a human move that I actually warm to her just a bit more. “I know Kymaris will do all that you say. But Nimeyah isn’t going to believe me.”

  “She’ll believe me,” Carrick says staunchly as he stands from the table. “We’ll go to Faere together to tell her.”

  “Now?” Deandra asks as she rises from her chair. I stand, too, wondering if I’m invited.

  “Tomorrow,” Carrick clarifies, then slowly turns his gaze toward me. “I have some things I need to handle today.”

  I swallow hard. He’s still just as mad as he was when he rescued me from those daemons.

  “Tomorrow then,” Deandra says as she grabs her purse, glances my way, and gives a curt nod, bending distance so fluidly that she just blinks out of sight.

  Carrick sighs and sinks back down into his chair, swiveling it toward me. Elbow propped on the armrest, he sets his chin in his palm to stare.

  I decide to go on the offensive. “I know you’re mad at me for going to rescue Blain without you, but I don’t see why we need to hash it out. We accomplished our goal—”

  “—only with my help,” he points out.

  “—and I’m safe and sound.” I give him a determined look as I repeat slowly and with clear enunciation. “I am safe and sound. So let’s not fight about it.”

  “Not going to fight with you, Finley,” Carrick replies, but his tone causes me concern. It sounds fatigued. “I’d prefer you not rush off to do those things on your own, but I don’t own you.”

  I study this man… my heart. My partner. Everything that is good in my life. I regard him critically because yes, he seems tired, and I know he can’t be. He’s a demi-god. He doesn’t get tired.

  Scooting forward in my seat, I reach out and hold my hand palm up. A silent request that he place his hand in mine, and he does. “What’s wrong?”

  Carrick shakes his head, causing a lock of hair to fall forward. He doesn’t want to share.

  “What’s wrong?” I repeat, squeezing his hand.

  His eyes hold mine for the longest time as he wars internally, deciding whether to share a burden with me. I don’t take offense that he might not think I can handle it. He knows my shoulders are strong, so I’m fine letting him be the partner who wants to care for and protect me.

  “The Blood Stone,” he finally says softly. “It’s more powerful than I imagined.”

  “You said she threw you through the wall.”

  Carrick shakes his head again. “That was a mere flick of the wrist for her, so to speak. And Maddox and I both tried to block it.”

  My eyes widen. “You mean your magic was ineffectual against it?”

  “No,” he assures me, squeezing my hand. “It was a fast move she made, and we underestimated the gemstone’s power. Now that we know, we can counter her. But…”

  His words trail off, and pain shadows over his features.

  “But what?” I press.

  “She’s at least as strong as I am,” he admits to me. “Which isn’t really a problem for me, but that means you will be going up against someone with the strength of a demi-god.”

  A hard knot forms in the bottom of my stomach, and there’s a rolling sense of nausea. I knew Kymaris would be powerful. I knew I hardly stood a chance, but at least I thought there was a chance.

  But how do I fight someone who has the indestructible power of a demi-god?

  “Can she be killed?” I ask hesitantly.

  “I don’t know,” Carrick replies gravely. “Micah grew immensely powerful using the Blood Stone and he became hard to kill. I think Kymaris is far more deft in her command of the stone. It’s possible she might have made herself immune from iron.”

  “Then how can I stop her?” And I hate myself for the fact my tone is slightly fearful. Carrick picks up on it and tugs me out of my chair, pulling me right onto his lap to hold me tight.

  “Thwarting the prophecy doesn’t mean killing her,” Carrick reminds me. “It only means stopping her from opening the veil. If she can’t be killed, she needs to be distracted. We need to kill the ritual in some way. That has to be our plan.”

  “You know this means I’m going to die,” I say, laying my head on his shoulder.

  That is said without any whine to my tone. No self-pity there. I’ve always known the possibility was high, but given that Kymaris wields immense magic, I imagine she could strike me down with, as Carrick said, “a mere flick of her wrist”.

  “I don’t know that at all,” Carrick replies, shifting so he can press a kiss to my mouth. “You are full of surprises. You have grit like no other being I’ve ever known. You’re smart, intuitive, confident, and strong in heart and body. I’m actually a little afraid for Kymaris.”

  I laugh because that’s what his speech was meant to elicit. But I also know he meant all those things. Carrick never paid false compliments. “I am pretty awesome, aren’t I?”

  Carrick snorts and wraps his arms around me for a squeeze. “You’re also headstrong, stubborn, and you rush into things without having a healthy dose of fear for the consequences. But these are the perils of loving you. It means accepting a certain level of worry.”

  Tipping my head, I ask, “So I’ve always been like this?”

  The corners of Carrick’s lips tip up ever so slightly. “Every damn incarnation.”

  “Like, give me an example,” I press, because I seriously doubt I’ve put myself into the type of danger I faced today. None of my prior lives involved thwarting prophecies and battling dark creatures.

  I sit up and twist on his lap so I can see him face to face, my head tipped expectantly.

  “Well, there was that time in the sixties that you rushed off to an anti-war demonstration that turned very violent. You got into a fistfight with a cop and got arrested. I had to bail you out of jail.”

  My jaw drops as I accuse, “You’re making that up.”

  “I’m not,” he says assuredly, and I believe him.

  “What else?” I press, because maybe that was an isolated incident.

  “When you we
re a cattlewoman in New Zealand, a horrid rain and windstorm swept over your ranch. One of your calves got lost in it, and you went out on your own to find it. You didn’t even tell me… just hopped on your horse and rode out, branches snapping and falling, debris flying through the air. One of the hands told me you’d left and by the time I’d found you about an hour later, you had the calf draped over your lap on the horse and a huge cut to your head from a flying branch.”

  “I was a hero,” I state proudly, puffing out my chest.

  “You were a menace to my sanity,” he counters with a laugh. “So I wasn’t surprised you rushed off to save Blain. I have realized that’s who you are at your core. You will always do those things, and I’ll always be pissed at you. I expect it will be that way in the future when we find each other again.”

  A smile comes unbidden, as it often does when I’m reminded we have eternity together.

  It’s wiped off when Carrick brings me back to reality. “We have a lot of work to do. We need to garner more support to our side.”

  “Do you think Nimeyah will join us?” I ask. Deandra certainly doesn’t think she will, and I find it odd that Deandra—who I hated the most out of that family—has turned out to be the one with honor and character.

  Carrick shrugs. “I don’t know.”

  “What about her husband, Callidan?”

  “He’s a doormat.” It’s clear Carrick has never respected this particular fae. “He’ll do whatever Nimeyah tells him to do. But at least we’ll give it a try.”

  “I assume you don’t want me to go with you and Deandra tomorrow?” I ask, proud that I have no desire to go due to any jealousy of Deandra. In fact, I’m ambivalent about it.

  “It will be better if it’s just the two of us,” Carrick replies. “And besides, Rainey and Myles are returning tomorrow from their honeymoon. I think you could do with some time with them.”

  My heart goes flippity-flop. I’d been so wrapped up in rescues, powerful magic, and flying bullets that I had forgotten about that. Yes, I’d really love to hang with them tomorrow because time is getting short for all of us.

  “After I leave Faere, I’m going to travel to a realm of winged Light Fae called Brevala and prevail upon them to join us. Then I might need to make some visits to some others who owe me favors.”