“Good to know.” I shifted positions, watching out for other Unseelie as I waited for the troll to make a move. A deafening crash of crates followed behind me, but I couldn’t spare a glance to make sure Frack and Analie were okay. Some of the others were fighting on the other end of the warehouse and I had no idea where Isolde and Ciaran had run off to.
I was alone in this corner, but that didn’t bother me much. Needing just one little weakness to impale the troll, I could take him down, even with his apparent resistance to my magic.
I’d read something once, hadn’t I? Long ago, in one of the archives in my family’s magical Pyren. Sometimes I wished I paid more attention to the magical history studies my mother made us read all the time.
What had the grimoires and scrolls told about trolls?
He stepped forward, not a lick of pain gracing his features. Instead, an almost joyful sneer was filling up his face now as he held out his sword again and readied to swipe it at me.
I stepped back, easily avoiding his wild aim.
“You think you’re so smart, human. No human can compare to the Unseelie. We are old, the ancients of the land. We’ve been here before you. We’ll be here long after your taint has died off from the land.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I retorted, seeing his little speech had rendered him careless. I jumped onto a crate nearby, ran across three more, jumped and pushed off another box to head over the troll’s head. Bringing down my sword I severed his neck with one sleek slice before he could get another self-righteous word in.
Landing on my feet on the other side of him, I watched him begin to sway, his sword clanging like a thousand spoons clamoring to the floor when he dropped it. A moment later, he crashed to the floor and the fire of my Empyrean blade consumed him whole.
The rapid incineration never failed to impress me.
“Benton! Look out!” Isolde’s voice echoed from behind me. A moment too late, I felt her shove me to the ground as a deafening explosion ignited the dark lit space surrounding us.
I could hear nothing but ringing and my eyes failed to focus as the scene wavered before me. Feeling the cold cement warehouse floor underneath me, I pushed at it with my slowly returning strength.
Blinking hard, my eyes teared up from the flying dust particles as I managed to flip over onto my back. Convulsing into a coughing fit from the impact, my breath returned at a snail’s pace as I desperately scanned the surrounding area for Isolde.
“Isolde?” My raspy voice came out faint, but I heaved out another cough to clear my airway. She still didn’t answer me. “Isolde? Are you alright?”
The chaos of room slammed into me as my hearing returned, slamming the noise into me like a freight train. Voices clamored with desperate cries of fear and aggression, reminding me we were still fighting—still locked in battle. No matter how badly I wanted to remain pressed to the cool cement floor and drift off to sleep, I fought the urge with all I had left. Sitting up, I found Isolde, her arm extended out and part of her body buried under a heap of destroyed crates and debris.
“Isolde!” I jumped into action, feeling a wave of dizziness, but I shook it off, choking on the dirty air as I made my way towards her. Reaching for her hand, I felt for a pulse.
There…underneath her smooth skin was a weak, thready pulse holding on for dear life. “Hold on…” I told her, “I’m getting you out of here.”
Her eyes fluttered but failed to stay open. Her breathing matched her pulse: slow, shallow and struggling to continue. I gave my perimeter one last glance, knowing I’d be no help to her if I got offed before I could get the heap of debris off her body. Finding the fighting had moved closer to the middle of the warehouse and the offending culprit who’d set off the explosion was lying still as stone to my right, I felt confident we were alone. The guy was most certainly dead, which made me want to resuscitate him just to incinerate him for our troubles.
Turning back to Isolde and noticing her pallor growing, I hurried to shove the crates to the side. Heaving with all my breath, I pushed at the wood. Whatever was inside them had to be either heavy metal statues or boulders for it wouldn’t budge more than a couple inches. Pausing for a moment’s rest, I gave it my all once more with a touch of momentum aimed at the pile.
“Fuck!” It didn’t budge. “Come on!”
“All brains, no brawn?” The most annoying sound in the world came from the person now hovering over me, his eyes studying the predicament before us. “Isolde?” His eyes widened as he realized the person I was helping was her.
“Yeah, it’s her.”
Ciaran pounced into action, grabbing at the pile with his slender arms and hands, trying as he must to move the pile too. His efforts were no better than mine. He’d already forgotten his taunt a moment earlier seeing his comrade buried and barely alive.
“It won’t move!” Ciaran’s panic grew as he attempted to move the hunk of junk in front of us.
“No shit,” I muttered. He had to be Captain Obvious of course. He continued his pathetic attempt to move the cargo until I reached his side and placed a hand on his arm.
“Don’t touch me, human!” He spat, swiping at me. His hatred shown full glory as he shook me off.
“We can’t do this alone. We have to push together.” There was no more ridicule left in me. Isolde’s life would fade if we kept at odds. “She needs us both, Ciaran. Let me help.”
The faery warrior’s face fell, his large eyes filling with glistening tears of frustration. Glancing down at Isolde, who was probably his only true friend in this horrible world filled with injustice and inequality, his good sense had a mind to show up right then. He gave me a nod and motioned me to help.
“Ready?” I asked, my shoulder wedged against one side of the crate pile. He bobbed his head again, his fingers curled and digging into the wood.
“Go!” We both shoved at the bulk of the debris groaning as our arms burned and our chests heaved.
The pile succumbed and moved with our combined strength. Ciaran may have been weak in magic, but his power was impressive for a scrawny toothpick-like him. The pile slid away smoothly this time and we continued to shove at the splintered wood, large pieces of bronze metal and other statues kept padded with Styrofoam peanuts scattering all over the place, digging Isolde out.
“Isolde?” I checked her pulse again. Weaker and weaker her pulse grew and each thump filled me with a frightening terror as they faded from my touch. “Come on, girl. You can’t leave me this time. It’s too cliché.”
“Isolde!” Ciaran stooped on the other side of her, already fumbling through his pack for some healing supplies. I pulled out the last of my healing draught from Braelynn, my sister’s sorceress friend. The draught was a faery potion and it was meant for severe injuries and she’d cautioned me to keep it for myself. But how could I withhold medicine from Isolde? I could always get more, right?
I held it out to Ciaran. “Here. This could help.”
He stared at it, confused. “What is it?”
“Faery draught. Healing actually. That’s what the sorceress Braelynn told me. She said to be careful how much I took of it for it was pure faery magic. We should give it to her. It could save her.”
Ciaran checked his pack one more time and frowned, worry filling his features making him look exhausted.
“Do it.” He nodded toward the potion, and I quickly uncorked it. It looked like silver mercury liquid and smelled like blood. I grimaced at the tincture, but with the help of Ciaran, we lifted Isolde more upright and dumped a mouthful past her perfect, pale pink lips.
She was fading so fast. I could barely feel her heart beating under my fingertips. The energy thrumming under her skin was stilling, barely able to keep her life force going.
This had to work. It had to…
Chapter Ten
I couldn’t believe my eyes and nothing I’d seen in my short life could’ve prepared me for what happened next.
Isolde never woke up. In fact,
her skin became more translucent, like milky glass with the faery draught meant for healing extreme injuries. Not only was she paler, but her lips were a dusty rose that morphed into the color of quartz crystal. Her long hair smoothed down, slick and shiny, but hard as diamonds. Her entire body glowed with an ethereal light that I was afraid to touch. It lit up the area like a spotlight, making it easy to see who was left of what side. Luckily, the explosion had not only taken down the culprit Unseelie, but three others as well. The two stragglers left of the group scrambling out the windows they’d manage to break.
Unseelie weren’t too bright sometimes.
Frack ran up to us and peered down at Isolde. “Is she dead? Should we follow them?”
I shook my head. “She’s still alive, somehow. I’ll catch up to the two cowards later. It’s over.”
“Why isn’t she waking up?” Ciaran’s puzzled look made me wonder if there was something I should’ve known about the draught.
“I have no idea.” I held up the bottle to the light, watching the translucence through the metallic color. It looked like ordinary faery draught to me. It was the same exact bottle I’d taken a sip out of earlier…
It felt...off somehow.
“Wait a minute…” I placed both hands curled around the opaque blue glass and closed my eyes. In my memory, I remembered reading a scroll about deception magic. It didn’t take much to unveil it…if you knew it was there. Most of it depended on the victim being caught unawares that the curse had been laid.
“Ostendas…” I whispered the antidote spell for a deception curse. The moment the word left my mouth, the bottle vibrated and spun out of my hands, smashing to the ground. Now, instead of silver mercury liquid, a shimmery white fluid sprayed the ground where the bottle had shattered to bits. It wasn’t the right potion. It was something other than faery healing draught and I didn’t like the look of it whatsoever.
This had a dark magic to it, and I’d been fooled.
“Who did this?” I demanded. My fury tumbled forth like a rushing tsunami. I was an Elemental warlock, capable of feeling out the magics of others like a sixth sense. How could one potion get past me? The culprit would’ve had to have been extremely close to me to get it in my pack in the first place. Whoever had tricked me, wasn’t Unseelie at all.
It was someone close to Isolde who’d gotten too close to me too.
The last revelation turned my stomach. I knew who’d tricked me, but I couldn’t let them escape just yet. Not until I knew why and how to undo this mess.
“What’s happened to her?” Analie had appeared and kneeled next to Isolde. The glow continued, casting her in an angelic way. If no one were the wiser, she could pass for a sleeping angel.
“She’s been revealed,” I whispered under my breath.
Analie’s large yellow eyes flicked up toward mine, innocent and worried.
“What do you mean by revealed? Revealed as what?”
“She’s not part elven. She’s something else. She might not even be a faery. I’ve never seen or heard of a reaction like this to a reveal curse. Nothing is making sense.”
“Which means she’s not who she said she was,” Ciaran added. His face observed Isolde’s with a strange mixture of awe and curiosity. Not the kind of awe which made one scared, fearing the worst. This kind of spark was led by pure malicious intent done purposely.
“Why would someone want her to reveal her true nature?” I asked, hoping to trip Ciaran up. If he was behind this, what would he gain? I never knew him as Isolde’s friend in high school, but she hadn’t said much about their relationship, had she? And if Ciaran was right about her being different, had Isolde been aware of it? Had he?
The questions didn’t leave me feeling much better. I’d have to grab Ciaran any minute now. Best to keep that I was on to him to a minimum. He knew more than he was putting forth. Everything about him was wrong.
“The Unseelie have their ways,” Ciaran offered though his eyes were hooded, lost in his own daydream. About what, I was pretty sure it was about Isolde’s true nature.
“I have to get her to a healer. Come on.” I stepped forward, but Ciaran’s arm flew up slamming into my chest to stop my momentum.
“She’s not going anywhere with you. You gave her that potion. This is all your fault.”
“What? You can’t be serious.” I laughed and shook my head. “You changed the draught in my bag this morning. You bumped into me dropped the duplicate bottle into my bag after you saw me drink from it the night prior. You planted it there, didn't you? Why? Isolde’s your friend. Why would you do that to her?”
A unified gasp rang through the group as others returned to see the commotion after securing the outside of the warehouse. For a scraggly group, they were well organized. I gave all the credit to Isolde and not her conniving second in command.
“Since you came here, the Unseelie have tried to kill us. It’s you who’s been nothing but a taint on our existence. I don’t see what she saw in you.”
I watched his face turn facets of red, pale and then purple as he threatened me. I didn’t care. I could see right through him.
“Why’d you do it, Ciaran?”
The others watched on, afraid to move. Afraid to do anything.
“Go to hell, human.”
“You failed to answer my question.”
“I don’t answer to your kind.”
“So that’s how it is then?”
Ciaran glared at me, fire burning in his wide eyes. Without warning, he shoved at me, sending me stepping back to catch my balance. He reached over touching one hand to Isolde’s and held out a small sphere in the other.
I’d seen those before. I only knew of one person who used them, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more out there.
No!
Before I could stop him, a sudden rush of wind and light smacked into the rest of us, sending us tumbling backwards.
Ciaran had a teleportation orb and knew how to use it. My ability to detect magic was waning, and I thought I knew why. After everything, I’d been played the entire time I’d been with Isolde’s group by none other than Ciaran. He had shielded his real magic from me with a shield I couldn’t compromise and lost Isolde to him for payment. But why?
The reasons remained unanswered and would stay that way for a long time.
Chapter Eleven
I visited the small group of outcast faeries often. I still didn’t know or hear anything about Isolde and Ciaran months after the attack. Not one day passed that I didn’t think of Isolde. She’d been my first love, and I’d always love her, no matter what hardships laid between us, miles apart. I knew she thought of me when I’d left her without a trace to fight the faery war.
That was cold comfort now.
She’d be laughing about payback. I was sure of it.
If only she could laugh, or speak for that matter.
Something told me she was as silent as the day she was petrified and turned into a sleeping beauty. If there was something to be said about Isolde, it was that no one got the best of her without a steep price. Whatever she was, whatever she was hiding, this particular magical being would remain silent and sleeping until the spell was broken and she awoke from eternal slumber one day. I wished I knew what the antidote to the sleeping spell that she placed upon herself just in case a person successfully got to her with a revealing curse.
Isolde was one tough woman to crack and Ciaran was probably screaming in a rage that he had failed to break through her armor and discover who she really was. Whoever she was, she had to be important. No one would go through so much trouble living as a common faery amongst those with little to no magic if it weren't for a darn good reason.
She’d gotten through my own thick laden armor and into my heart once. I wouldn’t let that go without reward. I’d find her one day and make sure Ciaran paid for his treachery if it were the only thing I had to live for.
I hoped wherever she was that she knew I would find her and work to
break the spell first just to see her shining eyes once more. I’d let her sweet, soft lips kiss me again and again until the past disappeared and we were back at that creek, soaked to the bone. Just like old times.
Until then. I’d wait. I’d keep my senses on overdrive to catch the scent of her trail again. After all, those days—with her—were the best days of my life.
~*~
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Book 0.1: The Withering Palace
Book 0.5: Evangeline
Book 1: Ever Shade
Book 2: Ever Fire
Book 3: Ever Winter
Book 3.5: The Cursed
Book 4: Ever Wrath
Book 5: History of Fire
Book 6: Ever Dead
About the Author
Alexia Purdy
Alexia currently lives in Las Vegas, Nevada–Sin City! She loves to spend every free moment writing or playing with her four rambunctious kids. Writing has always been her dream, and she has been writing ever since she can remember. She loves writing paranormal fantasy and poetry and devours books daily. Alexia also enjoys watching movies, dancing, singing loudly in the car and eating Italian food.
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Also by Alexia Purdy:
Reign of Blood Series
Reign of Blood
Disarming (Reign of Blood #2)
Elijah (The Miel Chronicles):
A Reign of Blood Companion Story
Faery Tales: Six Novellas of Magic and Adventure (Faery Worlds Book 3) Page 41