Ever Wrath (A Dark Faerie Tale #4)

by Alexia Purdy

  She’s alive… still trapped inside the castle. Alone.

  “I have to go back there. I have to find her….” He stood up but quickly melted back onto the cot again. The Darkling’s poison had weakened him greatly, and he was in no condition to go anywhere. This angered him, and he sat there, filling with rage.

  “You can’t. You’ve had some sort of spell or something on you. Braelynn said you needed to rest.”

  At the mention of the healer who’d ventured with them in Faerie so many months ago, he peered up at Benton. “Braelynn’s here?”

  “Yep, sure am. You think I’d miss this? Unseelie going down!” She chose that moment to waltz in and high-five Benton. She smiled down at him and examined Dylan’s slumped position. “Now you’ve got to lie down. That poison has to work its way out of your system. I don’t know how you did it, but whatever you did, you must tell me how you countered Darkling poison.”

  Dylan shook his head as a slow, deep ache reminded him to lie down. “I don’t know. One minute, I was collapsing from the poison and the next, I was here. Shade’s still there. We have to help her.” His eyes pleaded with her, even though inside he wanted to scream.

  “No one’s going to be helping her if you won’t lie still!” Braelynn clasped his shoulder firmly, her tone unrelenting. “Shade would want you to relax and heal. She’ll be fine. We all know how much power that chic has. Now lie down, or I’ll give you a sleep draught to knock you out till Tuesday.” She winked and patted his shoulder, but the reassurance was lost on him.

  Dylan turned red but complied. Sighing, he stared up at the sky above. He was lying on a soft snow leopard skin with a pillow under his head. Nothing could keep him from his love. If only he’d avoided Darren’s dagger.

  And where was Darren?

  He closed his eyes and felt around, stretching his magic for miles to feel the coursing of his blood in his brother. Nothing reached back. It didn’t recognize his kin anywhere, forcing Dylan to rein it back in, exhausted and thoroughly spent from the energy it took to search for his brother. They were close enough to the palace for him to be able to find Darren, yet he’d felt nothing. Darren was either far from there now or his life force had been cut short.

  If he was dead, that could mean only one thing.

  Shade had killed his brother.

  Maybe he should have felt some remorse. Maybe he should have felt sadness or even broken from losing the only brother he’d ever had. Yet strangely, he didn’t. Relief flooded his mind before he succumbed to darkness once more, hoping to find his Shade, even in his dreams, safe and sound.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Of Blood and Faerie

  “WHERE ARE YOU?” Arthas held his clenched fists against the stone railing of the balcony at the top of the north tower, his residence since returning from his slumber. His eyes focused into the distance, where the Seelie army had gathered and were camping until morning. They had a shield up to keep prying eyes from locating them, but he could see right through it. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared across the landscape. The mountains were dark silhouettes of giants, hovering above the vast, thick forest below. He looked down into the valley. He’d found solace here centuries before, before Kilara had ruined everything and chained him to his slumber forever.

  But he was no fool. He would not be tricked so easily again. Corb was powerless, and Rowan had lost her wits. Kilara alone would not be enough to bring him down. This thought alone cheered him, and he sighed with a sullen relief.

  Except there was that girl, Shade.

  How could he control her?

  She had chosen a mate. He’d never be able to win her with a courtship. No. That wasn’t the answer. What then? What could he do to have her serve at his side? What could tame such a wild thing?

  Such injustice in Faerie. Nothing was fair, even for an Ancient like him.

  He cursed and slammed his fist once more on the cool stone. Turning, he found Aveta watching him curiously.

  “What are you doing here?” he snapped, pacing the room as he ran through the places Shade could be hiding. “Have you found the halfling yet?”

  “I don’t have to find her. She’ll find you.”

  Snapping his eyes back at the Unseelie queen, his anger flashed across his face and turned his eyes an alarming shade of red. “You spite me.”

  “I do not.”

  “You know where she is, then?”

  “I do not.”

  “What good are you to me?” He rushed her and clamped his hand around her throat, but she didn’t waver. Her black eyes stared back, unaffected.

  “You need me, yet you think I’m of no use. The Seelie are prepared for us.” She waved a hand toward the landscape he’d just been studying. Yes, they were ready to fight, and they would definitely be coming.

  He squeezed his fingers tighter to stifle her voice. She held her breath, but her coloring flashed to a darker red.

  “Let me go!” her raspy breath screeched, but he refused to let go. He watched her struggle for a moment before releasing her. Aveta collapsed to the floor, sputtering and coughing as she grasped her throat.

  “How dare you defy me?”

  She looked up, surprised. “What?”

  “You betrayed me. I don’t know how, but you have.”

  “No, M’Lord.”

  “Don’t lie!” He violently shoved several vases off a nearby table, and they shattered from the impact before they hit the ground. She stared at the shards with a doom growing within her, more than she’d ever felt before.

  “Shade will render you helpless. I’ve foreseen it.” Aveta tucked her fear deep inside until there was nothing to feel but the calm abyss of numbness. Her face betrayed nothing.

  “Silence!”

  “You know it as well as I do.”

  “I said…be quiet!” He held his head, hearing her unfeeling words slip from her mouth echoing within. His descendant, the same one who’d awakened him, was no longer on his side. He could feel it, and it burned across his bones like acid dripping through them. Though he thought it would be so easy to discard her worthlessness, he felt a sharp pain shoot across his chest. How dare she turn away from her own blood? Was he so blind?

  “It’s time to show them I’m not to be trifled with.” Arthas focused his attention out the window, beyond the tree tops and into the shielding dome of the Seelie. “Send the army away, toward the human cities. They won’t all be able to get through the wards yet, but ready them to pass through. Those that can get through, tell them to destroy everything in their path.”

  Aveta nodded and summoned one of her servants with a flick of her fingers. She was still out of breath when they came running in, helping her to her feet as she quickly whispered instructions to them. Her servant, one of Lady Blythe’s dryad soldiers, flicked his eyes briefly to Arthas but lowered them before the Ancient could catch him. He nodded and made his way out of the room and back toward the awaiting Unseelie army just outside the castle walls.

  Aveta’s face was blank. Nothing betrayed the loathing boiling up inside her now.

  The floor beneath rumbled once more, and the balcony exploded, sending clouds of dust rushing in. It had them backing away before they could survey the damage. Arthas clenched his eyes and dusted the dirt from his skin.

  “What is this? Kilara dares to shatter my palace?” He pointed an accusatory finger at Aveta. “I want you to find Kilara and bring her to me. And clean up this mess.” He retreated to pace the floor again, more agitated than ever.

  “Restore it,” Aveta commanded the walls, and they responded with a tremor meant to fix the destroyed balcony. Her firm voice was followed by another short rumble. Arthas halted and stared, horrified as the balcony began to meticulously rebuild itself, brick by brick.

  “How’s this happening? What did you do?” His eyes widened until the last of the bricks settled into place. It looked untouched, unmarred by the blast it had taken from Kilara’s destructive spells. He focused his eyes
onto Aveta once more, knowing her secret. “You never told me the castle listens to you. How is it that I’ve lived here before, centuries ago, and it never spoke to me?”

  “It doesn’t like you,” Aveta huffed, dropping her eyes to the cracks in the floor. “It only obeys me and Shade now.” Her fear was bubbling madly under her stoic surface, but she’d never give him the satisfaction to see her cower. Never again.

  “How dare you give Shade such privileges?”

  “I don’t choose who it obeys. I can sway it, but it chooses its own rulers and who it takes orders from. It’s spoken to me since I was a little child. It’s as old as you are. Maybe it doesn’t like Ancients.” She risked a peek to see if he was affected by her remarks. It was true, the Withering Palace was its own entity. She’d ruled here for so long because of its support and old magic. Arthas was beet red, furious to the point of insanity. She smiled slightly at this.

  He started for her, but halted at a noise by the door.

  “Looks like I might be intruding. Maybe I should come back later,” Shade said as she slipped in and slowly made her way to a nearby chair. Slipping down onto it, she propped herself as straight as she could and threw them the biggest grin she could manage. “But I think I won’t.”

  “Shade….” Arthas’s rage slipped from him, and he stared at her, bewildered. “You’ve come to be at my side at last.” He held out a hand to her as he also conjured up a fake grin. It didn’t reach his eyes, which still burned with a sickening blood red glow.

  “You’re not welcomed here, Arthas. You should know that by now.” Shade waved her arm around, but the gesture was lost on him.

  “I’m king here. And now you will do as I say.” He turned and pointed across the room and out the window to the rising sun. “The Seelie army awaits us. You’ll join me as we crush them.”

  “I wouldn’t follow you anywhere.” She adjusted, bringing a bloody hand from her side to grasp the arm of the chair she sat in, digging her nails into it from the agony of the injury. “Besides, I’m afraid sacking a friendly camp is beyond my power at the moment. Some of your guards put up more of a fight than I was expecting.” She laughed and reached into her pack for a water skin. She silently sipped from it as Arthas watched her warily.

  “You’re injured,” he stated more than asked. “Aveta! Get your healer here immediately.”

  “My healer died. She was one of the witches you so carelessly expended while trying to bring down the wards. I’ve had no time to replace her.” Aveta’s bitter voice sounded across the room, bringing Shade to lock eyes with the Unseelie queen. Aveta nodded to her ever so slightly, her black eyes filled with so many unknown things, including a slight of fear. Shade could feel it vibrating in the air and gasped, just before Arthas unsheathed his sword and swung it across Aveta’s throat.

  Breathing hard, Shade looked away, her chest exploding in horror. Knowing she’d just witnessed the demise of the notorious Unseelie queen, her heart hammered in her chest, screaming in panic. Had she not imagined this for so long? Had this not been her mission all along? Yes, the thought had crossed her mind, but it had never been a real possibility. Maybe eternal imprisonment. But this? This was madness.

  She closed her eyes, feeling the pain in her side turn from sharp needles to a numb tingle. She was bleeding profusely from the wound she’d sustained fighting the guards. Was this the end? Without a healer to help her fix the wound in her side and her own healing magic expended, she was done for.

  “Does it disgust you so?” She could hear Arthas wipe his blade on something before sliding it back into its sheath. He chuckled, a maddening sound that made Shade feel nauseated and want to cover her ears to block him out. She didn’t dare risk glancing back at the queen’s body for fear she’d lose her nerve. He was pressing on her mind, his magic searching for anything vulnerable. With the last bit of energy, she raised the walls in her head, effectively blocking him out.

  “You may fight me for now. But in time, you’ll relent and see how aligning with me is the only way to really live in my new world.”

  Shade laughed, feeling lightheaded and so very tired. Her bones ached, and her muscles had turned sore and numb from exertion. She was feeling her mortality with every passing second. Her sword slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. The loud noise felt out of place in this quiet chamber atop the castle. If she was to poison Arthas, she had to do it now, before she collapsed, before she died.

  Shaking the dread from her thoughts, she straightened up and pulled the vial of poison from her pack. “Arthas, it’s not your destiny to rule Faerie. I know this now. When you’re fated for something like that, there is nothing that can stop you. Even your own will can’t keep it from happening. I know from personal experience. I’m afraid you just don’t have what it takes.”

  She called her air element, feeling the breeze pick up and swirl around her, bringing in leaves from outside and lifting the curtains up until they floated up above their heads.

  Arthas watched, a sick fascination dancing across his features as the magic gained momentum around him. His wicked smile widened as he composed himself. “What’s this? A little air show? How quaint. I knew you were powerful, but elemental powers are rare in half breeds such as yourself. I’m truly blessed to have acquired you, even if you are part human,” he said, spitting the last word in disgust.

  What a fool, thought Shade, he really is full of himself. She ignored him and concentrated on breathing in and out, as slowly and deeply as she could manage without tugging too much at her injury. Every second, she could feel her life force draining with each drop of crimson blood that stained her clothes and dripped down the side of the chair. She had to be quick.

  “Magic of Faerie… please help me.” She pointed a finger at the Ancient, directing the currents toward him. “I curse you Arthas, Unseelie Ancient of the Eastern Realm of Faerie, to eternal slumber once more. Of my blood, of two of your equals and blood of your one descendant, I bind you with this poison. You will forfeit your life in Faerie and remain in darkness for eternity… sleep!” She called the poison from the bottle, watching the slick fluid swirl up into the air like a floating ink spill. It separated into smaller and smaller beads until it aerosolized and whipped around in a funnel, heading straight for Arthas.

  “What is this?” Arthas held his hand out, sending streams of fire toward the approaching cloud of poison. It sputtered out with the increased velocity of the winds and never reached their target. Instead, the funnel enveloped Arthas, his scream stifled by the roar of the air embracing him.

  The black, oily fluid coated every inch of him, absorbing into his skin, bringing agony to the Ancient, until a sudden silence replaced the roar. The wind dissipated, leaving the room eerily quiet. Shade studied the Ancient standing perfectly still across the room, blood streaming down his body and pooling on the floor. A moment passed before his body wavered and his eyelids slipped closed over his deadened eyes. He collapsed to the ground with a sickening thud, making Shade jump in her seat.

  Just like that, it’s all over.

  Shade leaned back into her chair, sucking ragged breaths into her burning chest, all her magic spent and leaving her very much human and vulnerable. Peeking over at the Unseelie king, she could see he was in such a deep sleep that his chest was still, and he wasn’t even breathing. But she knew he was very much alive under that calm exterior, still thriving and probably trapped in an endless nightmare. She could feel his life force like the violent shaking of earthquakes. It was that strong underneath the still surface of his imprisonment. He was truly an immortal of Faerie and could never be truly extinguished.

  Still… seeing him in such a manner brought a soothing calm rushing over her, and she smiled quietly to herself. Not sure whether to laugh or cry, she remained on the chair, afraid to move.

  She let her head drop back as she slumped in the chair, relishing the sounds around her. Everything was rejoicing in its own way. Even the whispering walls of the Wi
thering Palace were alive with excited chatter, echoing in her head like the distant murmuring of a crowd of thousands.

  What now? Where do I put him for safe keeping? Will I even make it out of here alive? I can’t even walk anymore….

  She tugged at her sack, pulling out the small blue summoning orb. Feeling a rush of relief that she hadn’t lost it, she briskly rubbed its smooth surface. It morphed into a milky white as she slowly brought it to her lips.

  “Camulus….”

  The orb bounced as it hit the floor and rolled to a stop. Her hand dangled unmoving from one side of the chair, dripping blood that snaked its way down past her delicate, grimy nails.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Dreams & Sleep

  THE SOUNDS WERE familiar, yet related to a time passed, long ago, like a dream faintly remembered. Shade flicked her eyes open, her heart already racing before her vision cooperated.

  White. There was nothing but white, a blinding sort of washed-out light which made her wince immediately and shut her eyes again.

  Where am I? she wondered. Was this heaven? Was she dead? It was very well possible. She’d been bleeding to death in the Withering Palace, after poisoning the Unseelie king into eternal slumber. But what had become of her? If this was heaven, it sure sounded a lot like a busy city hospital.

  It smelled like one, too.

  “Shhh. Shade, try not to move too much.” Dylan’s voice sent her heart jumping. Her breathing quickened as she felt his careful fingers stroke her hair. He was here, too? This wasn’t heaven, it couldn’t be….

  “Dylan?” Her throat was dry and raspy. How long had it been since she’d had a drink?

  “I’m here.”

  Blinking away the brightness of the room, she focused on the tan smudge which slowly morphed into his welcoming face, her eyes slowly aligning his double images. It was Dylan all right, in the flesh. And he looked as healthy as an ox.