The Awakening

by Elle Wolcott

  My skin trickled with goosebumps; the tears I was trying to hold back fell out with ease. That mark, that stupid mark on my back—my branding handed to me by miss nature herself—gave Cole the one obstacle he couldn’t get past.

  But then I realized what his words meant.

  “You knew who I was? Even before you left, didn’t you?”

  He gave a nod.

  “Is that why you left the necklace?”

  “I thought it could protect you against the faeries. Or at least from Tristan.”

  I watched him tighten his jaw in thought. I could tell he wanted to be careful of his next words.

  “But it’s meant for some other creature. For something I should never have involved you in.”

  I nodded. I let him take my hand again, but then I pulled free when I saw Iliana in my mind. It was a quick vision, but she was there in Cole’s house before stabbing him.

  “Your sister will be mine by the third sunset,” was her warning.

  “Cole, did you see that?”

  “Make it stop,” he pushed me away. “Make her stop.” With his hands in his hair, he gripped like he was having the worst headache ever.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s my procreator,” he grabbed my arms. “She’ll always have control over me!”

  “Let me help you,” I went to him and touched his arms, and then I got the vision of Iliana stabbing him in the stomach. I stepped back just as he started to yell at me again.

  “You don’t get it! She can manipulate me whenever she wants, for whatever reason she feels necessary.”

  I was starting to think she wouldn’t need a reason at all to toy with him.

  “Cole, please,” I wanted to get close to him, to comfort him, but he kept backing away.

  I waited for him to settle as he kept grabbing his head and grunting from what looked like pain. Her influence over him looked so strong, and I wondered just what she could make him do.

  Before long, his orbs came back into the forest and his eyes began to glow. I stepped back as he looked up and locked eyes with me. If she was making him feed, making him wind me so that he’d be stronger, then I was sure she could use him like a puppet.

  “Cole, you don’t know what you’re doing,” I pleaded, looking away from his eyes so that he couldn’t entrance me. I kept going backward until I felt a large tree against my hands. It only took him a second to pin me between his chest and the tree.

  “Forgive me,” he whispered.

  “For what?”

  His hands clamped down on my wrists as he held me perfectly in place.

  “Cole, let me go!” my voice echoed in the damp woods.

  From his pocket came a strand of twine, and though I fought him, he was quick to tie the twine to my wrist.

  “Cole!”

  Not only was I starting to freak out, but the magic in my veins had awoken. The rush, the waves, the flooding of emotions were starting to rise up from deep in my soul. I could feel a strange connection with the atmosphere and the droplets of rain that surrounded us. As much as I wanted to test my magic, the twine kept me from reaching out and manipulating the water.

  Cole stood there silent as his eyes sharpened. Digging another piece of twine from his pocket, Cole kept his gaze locked on mine. He wrapped the second piece around my other wrist, and I felt weaker by the second.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I asked, but he kept quiet. His hands were firm and his stance tall. When I felt too weak to balance my step, he caught me in his arms and began to walk. I could see the stars shining as the clouds faded away overhead. Night was quickly fading, and the rains were done. The forest, however, had woken. I heard the chirping birds and the flaps of their wings. The crickets and moths, too. Everything was sharp and defined, vibrantly melodic and stunning to my every sense.

  And then, as clear bursts of colorful splashes, I noticed blue, green, and red masses of stars in the heavens above. It was like looking at nebulae and other grand masses of the vast universe.

  Finally, Cole reached his car at the top of the hill where I had fled from his hunger not that long ago. He set me inside the car and then joined me in the silence. He wouldn’t speak to me, and my words were a mess anyway. From beneath my then blurry vision, I watched as he placed the car in drive and began down the ever-winding road I always loved. The trees were hazy, the houses a blur. I tried to raise my hand to his, but he pushed it down and my strength was all but gone.

  With my eyes shut, I gave in to whatever he had planned. The destination was his only thought.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I awoke to the early light of dawn as Cole carried me across an open field. My wrists were still tied, and my sight remained a blur. The sun, however, had never been more brilliant than in that moment. I could look directly at it without squinting, and I could easily see the corona. The glimmering white light of the sun reminded me of my essence.

  A few minutes of walking and Cole came to a stop. He set me onto a wooden porch with golden planks. I leaned against the railing of the steps and closed my eyes. The wind pushed my hair over my shoulders, and I opened my eyes to the sound of gravel being walked upon.

  “Bring her in, my love,” I heard Iliana speak.

  Cole lifted me into his arms again and I couldn’t help but find comfort against his chest. He carried me into the cabin and sat me onto a couch. I could see everything in the cabin, but details from afar were another story. The couch had yellow flowers on it, and the main fabric—a scratchy, old material—was brown.

  At my side, Cole was so close to me, pushing me tight against the wooden armrest, I was starting to feel sore. “Please, let me go,” I begged in a low, wistful voice.

  “He won’t speak to you,” Iliana, brilliant in her sharp heels and tight jeans, entered the room. “It took days, and a good loss of blood,” she rolled her eyes, “to finally take control of him.” She knelt before me and examined my face. “You know, you look like your father.”

  I moved my lips around to ask what she meant, but only a shrill of a whimper came out.

  “Too much hawthorn, my sweet,” she leaned up and graced Cole’s face with her pointy fingers. He sat there like a statue until she raised her brow. There were several rounds of twine on each of my wrists. She watched as he removed a couple layers, retied his knots, and then looked back at her for approval. It wasn’t hard to see that he was under her spell. I could easily forgive him for bringing me to her, and so, all of my anger slid to her just like it had days before.

  The cabin, now that my binds were less intense, brightened. Panel walls, wood floors, and small spaces. There was no electricity that I could see. In the corner sat a fireplace with numerous candles over top. They were half-melted, wax drips speckled the mantle like glitter.

  “Will you change her?” Cole’s words broke my investigation of the cabin, and I choked on my breath. At my side, he had taken my hand into his. I wasn’t sure if he was able to break the spell she kept over him, or if his true feelings were simply peeking through. Either way, his touch was comforting. Iliana, in the other room that I presumed to be the kitchen, sounded like her words were hitting a plane of glass.

  “That’s up to Lorcan, my dear.”

  Lorcan?

  It wasn’t enough to be scared in that moment. No, my captors were discussing the person Bryn had told me to hate. And obviously, he was someone to fear, with Iliana pacing around nervously for the first time since I’d met her. But to turn me? Sure, I thought faeries were incredible, but was I trying to become one? Not at all. I barely had just started to understand my own nature.

  “What will he do with me?” Cole asked, stiff like a block of marble.

  “I won’t let him hurt you,” she resigned as she came back into view and stared through the screen door. Cole, with his grip tightening on my hand, showed me just how frightened he was of Lorcan. I wondered if that meant he’d met him. “Besides, he doesn’t care what I do as long as it do
esn’t ruin his chances at the throne.”

  “And my sister?” he furthered. I had forgotten all about her. The weight of realizing she had been taken and kept hidden from us—just to get me to the cabin, I was sure—hit my heart and I started to tremble.

  Through the screen, the sounds of tires over gravel came to my ears. Iliana pushed open the door and stepped outside. “Be calm,” Cole whispered in my ear and then released my hand. I knew it was a warning. He was entranced by her, but somehow, he had kept a bit of control over himself. It was just enough to let me know that he was still hungry.

  Through the window at my back, I could make out the figure of a tall man. He stood over Iliana with patience, tilting his head as her voice sharpened with uncertainty. I faced forward just after the man glanced up at me and caught my eyes with his own. His brow crumpled under the sun and inclined with intrigue. A moment later, the screen door swung open and in came several heavy, piercing footsteps, planted with purpose and intent.

  Cole stood and lowered his head for a bow, then stepped over next to Iliana. I didn’t expect him to surrender his place at my side so easily, but the man’s influence was too strong. I could see the strain in Cole’s eyes as he backed away watching the man near me slowly. If Cole was entirely in control of his actions, I was sure he’d try to fight this foreign man off, even if it meant to the death. That was just how Cole was. Seeing him follow orders—her orders—was almost unnerving right then.

  “This is my—” Iliana began, but the man waved his hand, and she froze silent. I sat with my eyes to the floor. The hawthorn on my wrists had started to chafe my skin moments ago. If I were to tug at the binds, my fingers would certainly burn. But if I found a way to get them off, I’d be clawing my way out of the cabin.

  The man took steady breaths while I imagined his eyes chasing my every move. Steps closer and he was there, in my sight where my eyes studied the floor. There was an air about him, a call to stay away. He hadn’t said a word to me yet, and he hadn’t hurt me, but I still felt only fear in his presence. And when he knelt to see my face, I knew then that his pure nature would captivate me and intrigue me forever.

  I leered toward him, then paused. Dressed in white—a long-sleeve tunic, pants like jeans but not quite, a jacket that could have doubled as a cape—the man was from another time. He remained still—effortlessly still—while his eyes followed mine. I could smell the sea in his lengthy hair, see the shore in his aqua eyes. The seconds slowed around me as I felt drawn to him, unable to look away. Something within me ached, and I couldn’t fight it; I relished in it. I wanted to be taken, to visit the shore at his side.

  Was this his entrancement? Was he taking advantage of my weakness already?

  The man’s voice fell over me like a cold mist in winter, capturing my mind and waking any desires not yet alive. “What is your name?”

  I shook my head. The words wouldn’t formulate, the hawthorn was too intense.

  “Mine is Lorcan Haldor, I am the High Prince of Skye Sorn.”

  It was clear. He and Tristan had similar eyes and a similar accent. They were brothers, and this man was the dangerous faerie prince that my brother had warned me about.

  “Do you know what I am?”

  I hesitated before nodding as a tear fell down my cheek.

  Lorcan’s eyes stayed with mine as my sight filled with more tears. There was a moment where his eyes glistened, like the way frost does at first light, but it didn’t ease my anxiety.

  “Irene,” I mumbled. Another tear fell as I saw Cole’s feet inch forward. I bit my lip and spoke, “Irene Yarwood.”

  Lorcan moved my hair with restless patience and twisted the strands into his long fingers. He leaned close and inhaled, eyes shut and dreamily rumbling beneath the lids. There are no words to describe the icy stare he held when opening his eyes. I jolted back, but he shushed me until his eyes returned to normal. At my side, Lorcan asked Iliana how I was found.

  “She was concealed by a waning spell,” Iliana told. “Not even a Halvorsen spell is everlasting,” she laughed to herself.

  “Sadly, nothing is,” Lorcan eyes flicked over mine.

  Halvorsen was my mother’s maiden name, and her magical family tree was incredibly detailed in one of the books back home. Going back for generations, I could trace our lineage to the fourteen-hundreds.

  “Will you let me see?” Raising his hands to me, Lorcan reached for my back. I recoiled, but he asked again. “I’d like to see your mark, darling. You and your Lord have mirrored markings. His is on his back. If you’re truly Lady of the Wild, you’ll be marked there as well.”

  “She might not be complete,” Iliana warned with a step forward. Lorcan again waved her to stop.

  I didn’t have a choice, that much was clear. I leaned forward and looked away. Lorcan, with a touch like cold metal, peeled my shirt upward and paused. Commanding and yet so serene, the High Prince slid his fingers over the branding, tracing each arm of the spiral, and then gave a slight gasp of laughter. Gently, he set my shirt back over the mark and I winced at the sensation. Cold, his chilling touch was soothing, it was relief. Anything else and I was reminded of the pain.

  “Will you take her?” Iliana pleaded at him like a dog. “Will you release me and have her instead?”

  With a satisfactory sneer, Lorcan took a seat at my side. He palmed my cheek and let his fingertips dance around my ear. I shivered, yet I couldn’t help but lean into his touch. Breathing through a grin, one that reminded me so much of Tristan, Lorcan’s eyes glistened from the sunlight in the window. My eyes, though, were heavy, and my heart yearned for peace.

  “Do you know why I’ve sought you out?” he asked. When I didn’t reply, he captured some strands of my hair and twirled them around for a sniff. He then slid his other hand into mine and I could feel the icy flow of blood beneath his skin.

  I studied the man for a moment longer. He had high cheekbones and a smooth, strong nose. His jaw line was well-defined, but not as prominent as his narrow chin. Slender eyes that creased when he smiled, lips full, but not distracting; I scanned every inch of his face. Tristan had similar features, except his hair was darker, redder. This man, this Lorcan, had whitish-blond hair.

  I shook my head to him.

  “How about I untie these hawthorn binds,” he looked down at my wrists. “Can I trust you to behave?” He wasn’t really asking if I was trustworthy. He was telling me to stay put. And I was certain he was used to getting what he asked for. I nodded, and he carefully unwrapped the twine while watching my eyes. That cool, tender touch again gave me a certain amount of peace that I was almost ashamed of enjoying.

  This faerie was the enemy. He was dangerous, or at least that’s what I was told. I barely knew him. Was it fair for me to judge him so quickly?

  With the hawthorn lifted, my true sight returned. His royal garb, a long, sleek, and white robe; thick, knee-high boots; and belt at least five pounds in weight, emerged from the dull room with great definition. Where I had thought I’d seen things clearly, I was mistaken. The couch had stains of yellow on a dull tawny backdrop. The wooden armrest was gnawed away at the edge, most likely by a large dog. Soot covered the fireplace in a chaotic mess, and the candles on the thin mantle were coated in cobwebs and dust. The wall behind was spotted and moldy from the cracks in the ceiling.

  Nothing was as it seemed, but the release wasn’t purely visual. It made my stomach turn and my head hurt. Rubbing my brow, I hunched over and took several deep breaths.

  “It’ll pass,” Lorcan told.

  I gathered myself and then looked up with a nod.

  And here I noticed how Lorcan also looked different. He was younger than I first thought. Pale skin and soft lips, Lorcan had a delicacy that I would have missed if not for the waning hawthorn. With him still sitting beside me, I reached my hand up and touched his face. For a split second, he leaned away. Then he paused and let me feel his cool skin. He lifted his hand, and his fingers slid over mine with his palm r
esting on my hand. I watched his eyes dance over my gaze until he allowed himself to fully submerge into the touch.

  It seemed that everything in the mortal world—the cabin, the couch, even the screen door—lost appeal once the hawthorn was gone. But the faeries, and all they embodied, intensified. It must have been designed by nature to conceal them and the danger they imposed. My strength and my magic couldn’t see the threat while subdued, and it made me even more vulnerable.

  “Brother, let’s talk,” a somewhat familiar voice rang through the air. Through the window, I saw Tristan standing alone in the field of grass and dying flowers. My hand slipped from Lorcan’s and his bright blue eyes snapped to the window.

  Standing tall—taller than any other guy I knew—Lorcan stepped out the door while Iliana followed. “Come inside,” Lorcan said. I couldn’t see his face, but it sounded like he was smiling, maybe even laughing at his brother’s attempt at politeness. “We can talk about anything you’d like.”

  I stood to see, but quickly felt dizzy and sat back down. The brothers, as I watched through the window, started to near one another. Lorcan, however, didn't leave the porch. Two men, two faeries, dressed in gray robes, came to stand on either side of their prince. They must have been guarding the cabin the whole time.

  Iliana, though, kept her place near the door.

  Tristan grinned. “You must think I’m stupid.”

  “Not with everything,” Lorcan turned slightly to face Iliana. His eyes flicked over to me through the window, squinting in the sun, sharp and infinite. I had to look away before I lingered there too long. I knew what would happen if I let him in. Everyone was so right about the danger surrounding him, but I was starting to see that it was just his magic. He almost couldn’t help what he was doing it was so natural.

  “Let Irene come outside,” Tristan crossed his arms.

  “You say it like I’m in control of her.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Not yet,” Lorcan quelled the air and I felt a shiver rush through me.