by Amy Sumida
“No!” I pushed him away. “Get back! Everyone get back!”
Odin was pulled away by Arach and Morpheus as a group of Air-Sidhe guards landed on the Road of Neutrality and gaped at us. Starlight burst from my skin, but instead of pushing the fey magic out of me, it shoved it back into the emerald. The emerald, strained beyond its limits, exploded into thousands of pieces that instantly melted into tiny droplets. The magic shimmered and then soaked into the air, home at last.
The heavy gold chain that had held my pendant slithered down the sides of my neck and landed in my hair. I panted roughly as I stared up at a sky that I thought I'd never see again. Part of me rejoiced to be back but the smarter part of me whimpered in horror. My emerald was gone and with it, my ability to take magic from gods without giving up any that I held and, more importantly, any chance I had of taking the fey magic out of the Human Realm.
In short, I had blown it. Big time. Blown it into tiny, emerald droplets.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Are you going to lie there all day feeling sorry for yourself or are you going to get up and get your ass over to the Castle of Eight? Faerie asked in a snarky voice.
“Thanks for the warm welcome,” I huffed as Odin and Arach helped me up.
“Excuse me?” Odin asked.
“She's speaking to Faerie,” Arach explained.
“Ah, yes. Our wife and the voices in her head,” Odin murmured. His gaze went to the length of gold chain that had slid through my hair and fallen in the grass. He picked it up and slipped it into a pocket without a word.
“I'm so sorry,” I whispered to him.
“It was your pendant, Vervain,” Odin reminded me. “You suffered the greatest loss.”
“We all just suffered a loss. I didn't consider that the magic would be too much for it and now, we won't be able to drain the other MZs.”
“I didn't consider it either.” Odin grimaced as if that were the greater disappointment. “Nor had I expected that if it were too much, it would have this result.”
Um, did you hear what I said? Faerie interrupted. You need to get over to the castle.
“We don't have time to go to the castle,” I huffed at her and then looked around at the men. We were missing one. “Where's Azrael?”
“He went to take care of the fox, remember?” Morpheus asked.
“And he didn't return?”
“We followed you directly,” Arach said as if it were obvious. “Azrael can take care of himself.”
“I'll fetch him. Meet us at home,” Odin said.
No! You need to speak to Cian! Faerie shouted.
Both Arach and I winced.
“I believe we're wanted at High Court,” Arach said dryly.
“I'll get Azrael,” Morpheus offered. “You go with them, Odin.”
“Thank you.” Odin laid an appreciative hand on Morph's shoulder. “Tell Az and the others that we'll back as soon as possible.”
“Will do.” Morpheus went to the Great Tree and vanished.
“Back to it, soldiers,” I said to the Air-Sidhe who were still gaping at us, then I launched myself into the air.
What looked to be two male Dragon-Sidhe in half-form jumped into the air after me and followed me along the path to the Castle of Eight. I realized as they drew up beside me that Odin had likely startled the Air-Sidhe the most. As far as they knew, the only Dragon-Sidhe in existence were Arach, my sons, the royals of Darkness, and myself. And Odin was obviously not a Dark Dragon-Sidhe. But I didn't have time to turn around and explain it to them. The High King was waiting and Faerie was right, we needed to speak to him.
Our leathery wings cracked the air as we sped toward the collection of massive trees at the center of the Forgetful Forest—or near the center, rather. Seven trees grew in a circle around the eighth, their trunks hollow to serve as living quarters with the lower portions extended horizontally to connect with their neighbors and form a curtain wall. Knights from all kingdoms patrolled those battlements but stopped to gape at us as we approached.
I waved at them as we flew over their heads and then landed in the courtyard before the central and tallest tree—the residence of the High Royals of Faerie. A Water-Sidhe stood on the molded-root steps of the main tree, his dark skin tinted green and his hair bound back in a thick, blond braid. He bowed to us and waved us inside as if he'd been expecting us. The grand, double doors were open and fey lights brightened the reception hall inside the hollow, massive tree. If not as tall as the Empire State Building, it was easily the height of a New York apartment building.
“This way, please, King and Queen of Fire,” the man gave us our titles even though we'd technically renounced them.
He led us down the long main corridor and past the circular dining hall with its living wall of woven branches. I glimpsed the spiraling dining table through the weave. We went past the throne room as well, the courtiers drawing out of our way as our claws clicked over the polished floor. Finally, we reached the doors of the Royal Residence. A guard posted there opened a door for us and our attendant led us inside, over the gemstone floor and into a sitting room just off the main entrance. The High King and Queen waited for us there on a couch made of gold filigree and sapphire pillows. They stood as we entered.
“Faerie has told us that you arrived with some... issue. What's happened?” King Cian asked as he waved us toward the couches.
Our appearances, even Odin's, didn't startle him in the least. There wasn't much that could rattle the High King of Faerie. We sat down and Arach concisely explained what we'd been trying to do and how we had failed.
“You didn't completely fail,” Cian protested. “How many places are left?”
“I cleaned four,” I said. “So, five... are... left,” I trailed off as I gaped at him.
Cian nodded; he already knew why the number was relevant. “When dealing with magic, things that seem random are often not. I believe you were meant to fail, Queen Vervain.”
“Come again?” I asked warily.
“I've been giving this a lot of thought.” Cian glanced at his wife. “The magic seeping to Earth and jumping from the raths, our attempts at subduing it, our failure at closing the realm—fighting the magic isn't working. Perhaps we need to work with it instead of against it. It is a part of us after all.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?” Arach asked with a scowl.
“We anchor the magic,” Cian said. “There are five locations now—one for each element. We send the monarchs of faerie to each location to claim the land for their element. Once it has elemental wells set in the land to steady it, the magic should settle.”
“But it will still be on Earth,” I argued. “More firmly than ever.”
“I don't see a way around that, Queen Vervain.” Cian set his calm, golden gaze on me. “At least this way, we could confine it to five areas and ward those areas. The humans have lived with us before; they will learn to do so again. They are a very adaptive race.”
“I don't know about that,” I murmured.
“You're forgetting one important element, High King,” Arach said grimly. “Spirit. Without you to unite them, they could fall into chaos.”
“I believe their connection to this realm would be enough to unite them,” King Cian argued. “These will only be small outposts—extensions of the kingdoms, not new kingdoms.”
“But they will have their own wells, doesn't that make them separate?” I asked.
“They are separated by distance and the Aether,” Cian explained. “Which is why they need their own wells, but they are connected through magic to our realm. They will be anchored in Earth but fed by Faerie. It should work.”
A clamoring came from outside the room, then Morpheus burst in, followed by a flustered fey guard who Cian waved off. Morph was frantic—his wings fluffed and the blue mists swirling in his wide eyes. There were spots of color on his pale cheeks and a leaf stuck in his hair. The leaf was bright green and glossy. Ivy perhaps. No, something
else. Something more exotic. And it was that leaf above all else—even the expression on Morpheus' face—that frightened me.
“What happened?” I shot to my feet. “Where's Azrael?”
“Azrael...” Morpheus panted and then gaped at me. “Azrael isn't Azrael anymore.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“What?!” I shrieked.
“Explain now!” Arach demanded.
“I caught up with Az on the other side of the fence,” Morpheus continued to breathe like a startled rabbit. “I called out to him and released my invisibility so he could see me. But... but...”
“What happened next?” Odin asked calmly. “Take a breath, Morpheus, and then tell us.”
Morpheus took a breath. His wings lowered and he met my gaze. “I'm so sorry, V.”
“What happened to Azrael!” I lurched forward and grabbed Morpheus by his shirtfront. “Tell me, Morpheus!” I shook him. “You tell me right now!”
“Vervain!” Odin grabbed me and pulled me away from Morpheus.
My talons had burst free and torn Morph's shirt. Not just his shirt; he was bleeding.
I saw the blood and flinched. “Morph, I'm so sorry.”
“It's okay, V,” Morpheus whispered and started to cry. “It's okay.”
“Morpheus, tell us what happened,” Odin urged.
“Az was setting the fox down but the fox was glowing,” Morpheus said. “I don't think you pulled all of the magic out of it. The glow seeped up Azrael's hands. He was already changing by the time I reached him.”
“Changing?” Cian asked. “The fey magic changed Azrael Morningstar?”
Morpheus swiped at his eyes and nodded. “Az fell on the ground and started to convulse. When I went to help him, he shouted at me to stay back. His face... it wasn't his anymore. His eyes were wild. Green. Bright fucking green. And they glowed. His body got bigger. Thicker. And these horns grew out of his head. You know, like on a deer. No, a stag! Antlers! That's what they're called. Yeah... antlers...” Morpheus trailed off, his gaze falling away.
“Morpheus!” I shouted.
“Oh!” Morph jerked his stare back to me. “Sorry. He, uh, he grew antlers and claws. And the symbol on his cheek, Vervain, Azrael's name... it...”
“Yes?” I asked softly.
“It disappeared. Azrael stood up and he was someone else. His hair grew. It went down his back and as it grew these shadows appeared and wrapped around him. So fucking creepy. I called his name and he just stared at me as if he didn't recognize it or me.”
“No,” I whispered. “No, this isn't happening.”
“I grabbed his arm to trace him here,” Morph went on. “I thought maybe a faerie could help him. But then this fucking plant shot out of the fucking ground and bashed me onto my back. Azrael traced away and I didn't know what to do so I came straight here.”
“Az,” I whispered and rushed out of the room.
“Vervain!” Odin called after me.
I started running. I passed faeries whose faces I would never recall, speeding through hallways that became a blur. My mind was focused on one thing—an angelic face with a delicate tattoo on its cheek. A face that might never be the same again. Azrael. His name kept pounding in my head as I reached down the bond between us. There was something there, but I didn't recognize it and it didn't respond to me. I couldn't even sense where Az was. And then I was flying. Others flew behind me, shouting for me to stop, but I didn't look back. I was headed for the tree and the tracing point that would take me back to Russia.
“Vervain!” Arach caught up with me first. “We don't know how to help him. Stop, Vervain!”
“I'll figure it out when I find him,” I snarled.
“Because that will work out well,” Odin said sarcastically as he flew up alongside me. “We need to speak to Cian. Turn around.”
“No! I won't lose him!”
“You're bound by Blood to Heart,” Odin said firmly. “Nothing can take that away, not even all of the magic in Faerie. You'll find him, sweetheart. Trust me.”
I looked over at Odin and then Arach as I slowed into a hover.
“I've tried to touch him through the bond and he doesn't feel right, Odin,” I whispered. “He won't respond to me. I can't sense where he is.”
“It could simply be the distance,” Odin said gently. “You're in Faerie, and Cian has been trying to seal the realm. The magic could be thicker now. Do not panic, Vervain. Azrael needs you to remain calm.”
I gave him an expression that told him exactly what I thought of that load of crap. The distance part, not the calm part; he was right about that.
Turn around you idiot, Faerie snapped in my mind. Your husband has just become a god of Faerie. You're gonna need some help. You can't just wing it, even if he is an Angel.
Are you trying to make a joke when my husband I in jeopardy? I snarled at her.
What? You're the only one who can crack jokes at inappropriate times?
Morpheus caught up to us. He looked calmer now that I had panicked. “We'll get him back, V. But I think they're right. There's no getting through to Az now. We need an expert on fey magic to tell us how to deal with him.”
Without another word, I turned around and flew back to the Castle of Eight. King Cian and Queen Meara were waiting on the steps of the central tree. I set down in the courtyard and strode up to them.
“How do I get the magic out of him?” I demanded. “How do I remind Azrael who he is?”
The other men landed behind me and joined us on the steps.
“You know far more about your husband than I do, Queen Vervain. I can't tell you how to help him remember who he is,” Cian said gently. “But I can tell you that your husband has now become an avatar for the wild magic. I don't know how it's possible. A god has magic of their own; Azrael's magic should have protected him against any invader.”
“Azrael hasn't used his magic to its full extent for a long time,” Odin noted. “He retired.”
“Retired?” Cian asked as if he didn't know the word, or at least couldn't understand it in that context.
“It means that he stopped doing what the humans believe he does,” Arach tried to explain. “They think he's the Angel of Death who harvests souls but the harvesting wasn't necessary—the souls can ascend on their own. So, Azrael stopped serving as a psychopomp.”
“Az doesn't have to carry souls to use his magic; he used it to comfort me the other day,” I argued. “After we left Faerie.”
“That was once in how long?” Odin asked me. “And Comfort is a sub-magic. His main magic is Death.”
“Death,” King Cian whispered. Then he exclaimed, “That's it!”
“What's it?” Queen Meara asked.
“Azrael doesn't just possess death magic, he is believed to be Death—it's embodiment,” Cian explained. “Azrael is the Grim Reaper and that personification is not just god magic but also strong human belief. Humans who don't believe in gods, still believe in the Grim Reaper—if not in his existence then in his mythos. This is very similar to the way that the Fey are viewed by humans these days, correct?”
“I suppose,” I said slowly, hesitantly.
“And the fey magic is on Earth now, being altered by the power there and that power is, at least partly, human belief. Azrael is Death but faerie magic is Life—pure life. It's elemental,” Cian explained. “Azrael's magic coming into contact with its exact opposite could cause a... what do the Imps call it?” He frowned, then his expression cleared. “Oh, yes, a fusion. A merging of harmonious materials. All made possible by Azrael's rejection of his magic. He made Death vulnerable; he made himself vulnerable.”
“Azrael didn't reject his magic,” I protested.
“Repressed,” Cian amended. “However you label it, it has gone unused.”
“You've been talking with the Imps?” Meara asked her husband with an approving smile.
“I speak with all of our people, my love. It is my duty as High King to care for them.”
“Yes, yes, that's wonderful. You're an awesome king.” I made a shooing gesture with my hand. “But what about Az? If the magic did fuse with him because he's Death and it's Life, what does that mean? What does that make him?”
I told you what it makes him, Faerie said—by the look of the other faerie's faces, she said it to all of us, it makes him a fey god. The Fey God.
“He's not the first god who is also part fey,” I argued. “There's Aradia, Brevyn, and me.”
Aradia is half-fey and half-god while Brevyn only has a portion of faerie essence from your mother; he is a triple-souled being but not in the same way that you are, Faerie said. Azrael, however, is now completely god and completely faerie, similar to you. Except, unlike you, his fey essence isn't bound to one element. He has all of them.