Rhapsody (Bound to the Fae Book 3)

by J. Kearston

  Cambria sniffs and I snap out of it, shaking off my callous daze to check on her. She’s holding it together far better than before, her arms wrapped around herself as she stands on the bank, watching the corpse drift down the river with a blank look on her face. Her arms tremble slightly as she stands there dripping, but she remains standing, not breaking down.

  “I’m proud of you. You defended yourself, didn’t hesitate. We’re safer for it.”

  She nods once sharply, sucking down a breath and forcing herself to hold onto her composure, yet doesn’t speak. The changeling looks between me and her, solid black eyes not giving away any emotion. But by the small step forward before glancing back at me, it’s clear that he’s asking permission despite technically being my master.

  I really need to stop coming to Faerie. Too many chains come from it.

  “Technically I just said to leave you alone, but we didn’t establish in what capacity or for how long,” I direct at her back. “If fae magic works off of intent, then that should carry some weight in this circumstance, right? Because when I said it, I just wanted it not to hurt you.”

  Cambria releases a shaky breath. “Maybe?”

  Feeling absolutely ridiculous, I urge the fae-ling forward, silently giving it permission. It looks incredibly nervous, shuffling forward. When Cambria turns to face us, he stops dead in his tracks.

  “What the heck is it doing?” Her trembling ceases, but she doesn’t remove her tight grip on herself, physically holding herself together as she latches onto the distraction.

  “I think he just wants to help, the same way he shared his energy with you in the forest.”

  “Why does he look so scared?” she whispers, biting her lower lip.

  Coming forward, I gently nudge the changeling’s shoulder. It takes a couple of slow steps, like it’s making a conscious effort not to appear like a threat. It holds a hand out, palm up, and just waits.

  Cambria doesn’t reach for it, and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s afraid of him, or afraid of hurting him. Her? It? I’m starting to feel like a real asshole referring to the little black hole as whatever skin it’s currently wearing, like it doesn’t have its own identity outside of that.

  Slowly, he drops his hand, deflating and retreating like she rejected it. As ridiculous as it is, I wrap an arm around his shoulders to comfort the little murderer.

  Clucking my tongue, I meet Cambria’s eye. “Well, that wasn’t very nice.”

  She throws her arms up dramatically in defeat. “I don’t want to suck him dry! We just established that the hungrier he is, the more unpredictable he gets. You might be more useful to him alive as an infinite, accessible food source, but only if you’re both healthy. If he let you die, then so would his easy food source. Since you’re still low on energy and there are other options, of course he’ll lean towards those instead. But if there’s nothing else around and he’s starving, he won’t hesitate to eat you. I might be safe because of the deal, but you sold your damn soul to the little psycho!”

  I gesture to my new pet’s face, looking all dejected and pitiful. “You hurt his feelings.”

  She gives me an incredulous look before flipping me off as she flings out her other hand, irritated. But it worked. She isn’t withdrawing into herself, lost in a spiral of self-deprecation. She’s just completely fed up with life and that aggravation will serve her well in the coming days, when things are bound to get harder long before they have a hope of getting any easier.

  The changeling shuffles forward hesitantly, eyeing her several times as if convinced it’s a trap, before taking her hand in his. Flipping it over, he bends to kiss the back respectfully and Cambria softens just ever so slightly. When his tongue flits across her skin she tenses again, but when he presses her palm against his cheek, gazing at her intently, she starts to relax when it’s clear she isn’t pulling from him unintentionally.

  “I think he wants you to feed him.”

  Swallowing, she tries to, but it doesn’t flow as easily as it does when she drains someone. Licking her lips, she closes her eyes, starting to sing softly. Gradually her voice grows stronger, and the changeling’s eyes flutter shut as his nostrils flare, sucking in a long, slow breath.

  I used to hate being on the outside looking in, but not anymore. Not when I can watch the way the invisible walls Cambria perpetually keeps up to protect herself fall, to have a front row seat as she surrenders herself to something bigger than her, something neither of us really understands. And this bloodthirsty, brutal killer, purring like a kitten under her attention.

  When her song tapers off and she opens her eyes, there is a sense of peace there that I’ve yet to see in all of the time I’ve known her, something imperceptible changing that I can only pretend to comprehend. The changeling blinks up at her with nothing short of absolute adoration, and if that isn’t a sign he’s practically my familiar, nothing is.

  Because we’re both hopelessly in love with the girl standing before us.

  Chapter 4

  Cambria

  “We should get moving.”

  I only make it a few steps into the water before there’s a frantic scurry of footsteps and I turn my head. The changeling, with the same low ponytail holding back his dark brown hair, and the illusion of simple leather pants and a cotton tunic, plasters his back to the bank, digging his fingers into the muddy ledge.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” Dorian coos at his new pet like it’s a spooked doe rather than the most efficient killer in the realm. “You’ll be able to swim easier with this body. I’ll show you.”

  But he digs his heels in, hesitating only a second before hoisting himself back up into the grass and crouching. Sighing, I start following the poor thing’s lead. I already know full well how this is going to play out and I don’t want to waste more time out in the open on the argument.

  “So they can’t swim. I for one was sad to see moats go out of style anyway. We’ll just tell Achlys to get to digging and her city will be safe without needing to rely on us.”

  The changeling extends a hand to help me up, and the little bit of annoyance I was harboring at the thought of trudging around soaking wet dissipates in a puff of smoke. For being the monster under the bed fae-bies are terrified of, it has such an air of innocence clinging to it.

  The deadliest things are the ones you underestimate, after all.

  “Unless they eat a bird. Or cross the drawbridge as a person,” Dorian counters as we start traversing the open stretch of land, heading towards the cover of the trees.

  We don’t run, not wanting anyone glancing our way from afar noting it as suspicious, but as a shiver snakes down my spine, I pick up my pace a little. The crawling sensation is too reminiscent of eyes on my back.

  “Moat, dome net, and optometrist stationed as gate guard.” I tick them off on my fingers before holding them up to him with a grin. “Three things; that’s not so impossible. Not to brag, but I’m pretty good at this savior business. Might tackle world hunger next.”

  He smiles, and despite the fact that we aren’t out of the woods yet, figuratively and literally, things seem to be moving in the right direction. Tossing his theory out about Elorie’s limitation of reach between the kingdoms, a tiny seed of cursed hope implants in my shriveled little heart, forcing through the callouses I’ve spent so many years covering it in to protect myself from exactly this. It’s such a fragile thing, hope, and often does far more damage than good.

  It’s clear within a mile of walking that Dorian’s onto something. The land is nowhere near as rich as the shadow court’s, but it’s definitely got more spark than the kingdom I grew up in. The grass morphs into a dense swath of flowers in every color, bordering well-worn paths weaving between trunks. Even the trees seem stronger; taller and thicker. The canopy is so lush that it blocks out a good bit of the sun, leaving us in our own little world seemingly locked away from the far more brutal one beyond the branches.

  Pausing, an idea starts to form and
I crouch. Plucking several of the orange blooms, I gather as many as I can hold.

  “What are you doing?” Dorian starts to help without waiting for an answer, turning his shirt into a pouch for us to fill up.

  “We’re going to end up passing a village or another person sooner or later. Neither of us has any clue how to get to the shadow court from here without using a ring, and that’s just way too dangerous to risk no matter what kingdom we’re in. If there’s a bounty on our heads, then everyone in the vicinity will be watching theirs.”

  Standing up with a groan, I hate to admit the next part of the plan, which admittedly, is a gamble in the first place. “There’s no point playing on their sympathies showing up as we are and hoping someone will take pity on us. Maybe not every light fae behaves like the ones I grew up surrounded by, but we’re close enough to that kingdom that I have to assume they won’t be as sweet as the ones in Achlys’ oasis either. We’re only going to have one shot at this, so I think we stand a better shot playing on their pride instead.”

  He narrows his eyes in confusion, picking up on the hesitant lilt to my voice. “Go on.”

  Exhaling a heavy breath, I shake out my hands, trying to psyche myself up. “You already look like hell, but your little buddy healed up the majority of my wounds. I need fresh ones.”

  He balks and adamantly refuses like I knew he would. I never would ask Dorian to hit me. Not only would he never be able to bring himself to do it, but with everything we’ve both been through, it would wreck something deep inside him irrevocably.

  Surviving this mess only matters if there’s any part of us left to save.

  “I’d never ask that of you.” Palming his cheek, I press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips before pulling away before I lose my nerve. “I’m asking you not to watch.”

  His face twists with something; anger, disappointment, and a million other things. So I forge on, watching his eyes flick to the changeling like he assumes I’m going to goad him into hitting me.

  I’m many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. Not only are its hands tied by the deal the two of them made not to hurt me- at least, we’re assuming based on the broad terms- but it goes from zero to one hundred faster than I can blink. I don’t want my head torn off; I just need to look like someone got the jump on us.

  “Trust me, not looking forward to this either. But I honestly think it’s our best chance right now. We need some actual food to eat and to figure out what direction we need to be heading. Otherwise we’re just going to walk around half starved until this guy-“ I hitch my thumb over my shoulder to the demon fae attempting to scale the tree without claws and getting pissed off “-snaps. We have to do something, even if it sucks and it’s hard.”

  Dorian scrubs a hand over his face, looking like he’s aged years in a matter of a week. “Can’t you just glamour the injuries?”

  Bending to pick up a rock, I head over to the low boulder peeking out between the flowers, a little ways away from the path. Sighing, I begin to pluck the petals off of the flower in my hand and form a pile on top of it. “Everything in our world is fake, remember?” He sits beside me, starting with the ones in his shirt. “Any fae that looks like shit isn’t going to walk around that way. They glamour themselves to project perfection, composure, and power. It’s a game that needs to be played just right.”

  He sighs, his exhaustion settling heavily onto his shoulders. “I hate this.”

  Pulverizing the petals with the rock, I start grinding them into a paste, whispering, “I know.” Swallowing, I try to keep my voice steady. “I don’t think I got a chance to thank you, by the way. For taking care of me.”

  He keeps tossing petals into my growing slime. “Well, I couldn’t exactly leave you for dead. You’d never let me live it down.”

  A soft, sad smile paints my lips. “Not just now. You always put me before yourself, and I both love and hate it. It’s nice to feel important, but I don’t want you to lose sight of your needs either.”

  Scooping up the paste, I start coating my hair, adding a temporary dye over the shock of colors and working my fingers through. When I’m done with mine, I brush my hand quickly over his, simply adding orange tips to his blonde hair.

  “You’ve been running on fumes for days. It’s my turn to handle the hard stuff for a little bit while you rest.”

  ***

  “You look like a sunset,” Dorian teases, lifting a lock of my hair. Due to the original shades of my hair, the orange ended up having a variegated effect.

  “Why, because I go down on you at night?”

  He pauses as my words sink in before barking out a laugh, going over to scoop up the changeling who just finished slurping up a snake like a damn noodle. The snake’s skin shines like obsidian, a lethal, living noose that slithers up Dorian’s arm to wrap around his neck. And not once does he lock up with fear or start panicking, just strokes a finger over the tiny head like it’s the sweetest animal in the world.

  “What I wouldn’t give to just spend a day in your head,” he says, still chuckling.

  His eyes flash with pain before he quickly masks it and looks away from my face. My cheek is slightly swollen, a split beneath my eye that’s still trickling blood that I swipe away, smearing it over my arm. Of all of the things I’ve done in my life, intentionally bashing a rock onto my cheekbone has to be one of the hardest. Self-preservation kicks in just before contact, subconsciously lessening the force behind it. Which just meant I had to do it twice.

  Pulling up my glamour, I gloss over every injury, repairing my clothes and adding a shine to my hair. And though I’ve never attempted it on another person before, never had a reason, with the extra boost I got from our new companion, it was easier than I imagined to cover Dorian as well. I’m able to completely hide the mark on his hand, but mine, not entirely. The best I can do is fade the scars to near white, and pray that I can keep my hands hidden. Because while my mates’ were branded on, mine were carved to the bone with blade and magic, a public shaming that can’t be forgotten or erased.

  “Hey, you never know.” We start walking, leaving the woods behind for the city that lies just beyond the hills ahead of us. “We still haven’t figured out what abilities you received from your FTD.”

  He pauses for a second before rolling his eyes, turning to face me beside him. “Fae Transmitted Disease? Seriously? That sounds so dirty.” He snorts, but still, I managed to get a smile back on his face to chase away that haunted look in his eyes for just a moment.

  “So am I.” I shrug. “Dirty and depraved. A heathen, many even say.”

  He laces his fingers with mine, pulling our joined hands up to kiss his mark on the back of it. “But you’re my heathen.”

  My eyes flick to the snake wrapped around his throat and I smirk. “The compliment loses some of its weight when you collect all of the dangerously beautiful things.”

  He doesn’t skip a beat. “Nah, it just means you know I have good taste.”

  Nothing’s really been resolved, but I feel...lighter. Less like I’m constantly drowning, that one wrong move will cause everything to shatter. They might have received magic through the bond, but I think I got something from them too.

  “Seriously though.” I pull him back before we veer too far off topic, as the two of us always seem to. “Atlas apparently makes vampire fairy rings, so logically, you and Luce have tricks up your sleeves too.” Another glance at the snake and I raise an eyebrow in contemplation. “Though to be fair, you might actually be the monster tamer everyone claims me to be. You’ve got that changeling wrapped around your finger as much as I am.”

  He scoffs. “If you think you’re at my beck and call, you’re deluded. I can barely keep up with you.”

  We crest a small hill, the city looming ahead seeming increasingly imposing. “And you call me blind.”

  Our steps slow, both of us subconsciously agreeing to draw out our small stretch of peace as long as possible before gambling on my idea to work. I
f it doesn’t, things will get rough quickly, but between the three of us, I’m semi confident that we could escape.

  We survived a human flaying the skin from our bodies, using the screams of the others to force us into compliance as they tried to break us for whatever reason. I have no clue what happened to Luce or Atlas beyond the shape Dorian described them in, but if we can escape from that hellhole?

  Most fae are one trick ponies. They have a primary ability and hide behind it for everything, not needing to get creative when they can flaunt an obvious power. Humans, on the other hand, have to think outside of the box and form the illusion of power from nothing.

  So if I can think like a human instead of a fae, we can pull this off. I gave them magic, but they gave me their morally grey humanity.

  I don’t need to be good, I need to be willing to sacrifice everything simply out of spite.

  Chapter 5

  Lucien

  “We should be out there looking for them.” Pacing the confines of the room, the walls seem to get closer with each pass.

  “Where would we even look?” Atlas reclines on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling and tossing a small knife in the air. Each time he catches it, he allows it to get closer to his body before snatching it from the air, playing with fire like he wants to miss.

  “Anywhere, everywhere,” I growl, growing increasingly pissed off at his indifference. “You said she was worse off than I was when you dragged us through that ring.” I have to stop to swallow, forcing myself to voice the nightmare playing on repeat in my head. “What if she’s still unconscious? And someone found her.”

  He doesn’t bother looking in my direction, but he does hesitate before his next throw. “So you want to go knocking on every door in Faerie? Demand to search houses in case one of them is holding her captive in their basement?” He flicks that damned blade again, effectively scoffing at the idea. “Good luck with that.”