The Autumn Fairy (The Autumn Fairy Trilogy Book 1)

by Brittany Fichter

“Katy, I don’t—“

  She pressed her hand against his breastplate above his heart and prayed for the strength to focus. As heat gathered in her palm once again, Katy found she could no longer open her eyes. But that was alright. As her manifestation pressed her closer and closer to the ground, she let her power loose once more. And as it moved from her hand into his heart, she could feel the walls inside him beginning to crumble.

  Peter cried out, his voice growing more and more hysterical, but Katy could no longer hear his words. And it didn’t matter. She had broken down the walls built by his ancestors, and she could feel the ancient power bursting forth from within him.

  Peter was free. Now the rest was up to Atharo. He existed, that much she now was sure of, and He had brought her this far. She would have to trust He would take care of Peter and all the rest. For the first time in Katy’s life, she could lie down in complete peace.

  57

  Until

  “Katy!” Peter shouted as she slumped to the ground. Her hand had burned his chest even through his breastplate, and her blue eyes had gleamed nearly metallic as they’d met his one last time.

  He tried to see whether she was still breathing where she lay, but seeing was suddenly growing difficult. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. Still his vision wouldn’t focus. Something else inside him, however, did.

  Like floodwaters rushing, roaring down a dry brook, something strong and hot ran through his blood. Every muscle felt as though it had been struck by lightning and had stolen the bolt’s strength for its own. His heart rate doubled but the speed of his breathing didn’t change.

  What had she done?

  He glanced down at his body, half expecting to see some change. It was only when he looked up at his opponent, though, and he found Tearlach’s eyes set on his father’s sword that Peter knew what had happened.

  The sword’s diamond edges were glowing green.

  Rage, purer and stronger than any he’d felt before took hold of his body, and Peter leapt forward with a cry that even to him sounded feral. His sword, its green gems radiating light, seemed to rise of its own accord. When the weapon struck a well-aimed ball of hail, the crash made the world around them tremble. The olc was forced to take first one step back, then another. Peter pressed forward, strengthened by a source that felt utterly alien and utterly familiar. His legs no longer trembled with weariness, and his arms felt strong enough to fight for days. His injuries were gone, and he felt stronger than ever before. And for the first time, his opponent wore a look of fear.

  He drove the olc back until he was nearly to the edge of the platform, each of Peter’s blows more forceful than the last. Tearlach continued to hurl hail and gale force winds, but nothing could deter Peter. It felt good, forcing the olc to stumble and fall as he backtracked, Peter hoping that each blow hurt as much as he had hurt Katy. But just as Peter was ready to push him over the ledge with one final strike, a deafening blast of lightning made Peter’s ears ring and his head swim.

  Before he knew what had happened, Peter hit the ground. Through his double vision, Peter looked up just in time to roll away. As he rolled, however, the stones he should have used to help him stand were freezing. Peter yanked his hand away from the wall, which was now covered in sleet. He tried to move but slipped and fell on the slick ground beneath him. His nose bled from where it hit the ground. But he forced himself to look up, and anger fueled him as he thought once again of Katy.

  “A valiant effort.” Tearlach glared down at him. “But I’m curious. What exactly do you plan to do even if you do defeat me?” Another explosion of blinding light shot down from the sky.

  But this time, Peter was ready. Instinctively, he raised his sword to the heavens. The blade met with the lightning and crackled, but instead of being blown away by the bolt, Peter felt it enter his body and somehow strengthen him even more. He leapt forward. The olc threw his hand in the air, and a sheet of wind blew between them. The blade missed, but Tearlach still stumbled and fell. Peter hovered over him, but just as he was about to deliver the killing blow, Tearlach sneered.

  “Perhaps I won’t get my crown,” he choked and laughed again, “but neither will you.” Then not one but three strikes of lightning converged upon them.

  Despite Peter’s heightened senses, he wasn’t fast enough to raise his sword, and he was knocked backward across the platform. Every bone was jarred as he smacked into the stone wall and fell to the ground beneath it. Hailstones began to rain down on him again, hitting his chest, shoulders, neck, and even his head. Peter tried to get his feet, but he was too slow. Tearlach grabbed him by the collar and slammed him up against the wall.

  “You know,” he hissed, “when Katy first came to stay with me, I have to admit I was disappointed. She was afraid of everything.” He shoved Peter into the wall again, so hard it made him dizzy. “It was a minor problem, but I couldn’t help wondering just why she was still afraid, even after I helped her. And now I know.” Peter struggled, but just as he was about to free himself, he was hit in the ear by another hailstone, this one nearly the size of his fist. Tearlach only squeezed him tighter. “Typical humans. You were the boy who failed to love her and the man who was too cowardly to admit that he did until it was too late. And in doing so, you made her just like you.”

  The skin on the nape of Peter’s neck stood on end. Tearlach raised his hand again, but this time, Peter knew what to expect.

  “You’re right.” He grabbed Tearlach’s sleeves and pulled himself up again. “But at least I loved her. Which is more than I can say for you.”

  Blinding light lit the dark platform brighter than the sun at noon. But Peter was ready. He braced his feet against the stone and allowed the lightning to course through them both. Closing his eyes, he held Tearlach there until he felt his enemy’s body crumple beneath him.

  Tearlach lay on the stone ground shaking. Tears ran from his eyes, but his expression was one of pure hate. He struggled to lift his head, but he couldn’t get it more than six inches off the ground.

  “Give yourself up and stop fighting,” Peter pointed his sword at the creature, “and I will have mercy.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Tearlach either laughed or snarled. Peter couldn’t tell. “I may not get to rule this piece of dirt,” he stopped to cough, “but neither will you.”

  “And why not?”

  “You’re a rhin.” Tearlach glanced at where Katy’s still form lay. “You made a promise to save her, but she is still manifesting.” He laughed and then began to cough some more. “And nothing you do will stop her. Atharo doesn’t care, nor does He reward good intentions.”

  “I hardly think you’re in a position to be speaking for Atharo.” And before Tearlach could respond, Peter raised his sword. He needn’t have bothered though, for the fairy exhaled one last breath and didn’t inhale again.

  Peter sprinted back to Katy. He gathered her limp form in his lap and hugged her close. His tears mixed with the rain as he begged Atharo to give him one more chance. The sky was obsidian black, lit only by the small torch that had somehow continued despite the weather.

  “Peter?” Katy’s voice was hardly louder than a sigh.

  Peter hugged her tighter. “I’m here, Katy. I’m here.” Even with his newfound abilities, a white-hot searing pain touched his body, not only where they touched, but all around them. Still, he wouldn’t let her go for the world. So he drew her closer.

  “Peter,” she whispered, “I’m sorry...”

  “There is nothing to be sorry for. Do you hear me? Nothing!” He gazed fiercely down into the blue depths of her eyes.

  How had he ever thought himself in love with Saraid?

  “You need to go.”

  “I made a promise.”

  “But we still don’t know how to stop it.” She shook her head. “You might as well do what you can to escape.” She gave him a smile that looked more sorrowful than glad. “Whether you believe it or not, the people need you.”

>   Peter pulled his gloves off and reached down to wipe the tears with his thumb. His skin blistered where he touched her skin, but he ignored it. “The people will be cursed if I don’t keep my word.”

  “So this is it then?” She turned her head to the side and looked around them. The worst of the storm had died off, but rain and lightning still remained. “It just seems so wrong for it all to end like this.”

  “Katy,” he paused, “before…before this happens, there’s something I need to confess.” She looked back at him, her eyes heavy, barely open. He looked away and continued in a rush before his nerve could flee. “Tearlach was wrong about a good many things, but he was right about something. It was wrong of me to try and change you, to try to make you like me. I never wanted that, and I never should have tried. It was only that I had no other idea how to stop your manifestation. But you…” he traced the shape of her face, “you have never needed to be anyone else or anything else other than what Atharo made you to be.” He tapped her nose and gave her a sad smile. “There’s a reason I spent eight years trying to get back to you. I needed you just as you are. I didn’t need the person everyone else thought you should be. I just wish…I just wish there were a way to save you from—”

  Another ripple moved out from her body, rocking them both and making the castle sway beneath them. Peter had to hold on tight, but with the swaying came a wild flash of crazy inspiration.

  “What is it?” Katy peered up at him.

  Peter was too stunned by his revelation to even speak aloud. “I know how to save you,” he whispered, staring down at her.

  “You what?”

  He laughed, a strangled sound, nearly feeling delirious. “You do need to be saved.”

  She frowned at him. “Peter, I’m confused. You just said—“

  “Not from what you are or aren’t.” He leaned closer. “You need to be saved from the lie that’s held you captive all these years!” Had music been playing, Peter would have danced.

  Katy just stared at him as though he had lost his mind.

  He drew her closer. “You never believed you were worthy of love. And don’t try to deny it because I’ve seen it in your eyes every day.”

  “What about the darkness?” she asked.

  “There is a darkness inside you, but it’s not your power! It’s the doubt, the voice that tricked you into believing that you didn’t deserve to be loved!”

  Tears were streaming down her face. “Even if that’s true, how does it save us?”

  “Because,” he pressed her against his chest, “it’s almost midnight. I’m going to prove to you once and for all that you are loved. That you are worthy of love in life and in death.”

  “But why?”

  “Because Atharo made you, plain and simple. He made you a sweet, beautiful, intelligent, caring creature.” Peter bent close and whispered in her ear. “Atharo made you, and that’s good enough for me.”

  Her eyes widened and she looked around as if just realizing how late it was. “Peter, you must go!”

  But Peter closed his eyes and rested his forehead on hers, trying to ignore the way it made his vision spin. “I made a promise. Never again do I want you to doubt that you are loved.” As he spoke, Peter wrapped his arms around her and squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as they would go. Then he placed his mouth on hers and kissed her with every ounce of strength he owned.

  How long they sat that way, he couldn’t tell. But eventually he sensed a light, one brighter than the sun, beginning to wrap itself around them. Even with his eyes closed, the brilliance of the light that enveloped them was blinding. An ear-shattering screech filled the air as shafts of colored light streamed up to the sky in columns. He tried to press his face into her shoulder but he felt as though his body were being torn into a thousand pieces. And yet he held on.

  Because he meant every word he’d said.

  Katy was beautiful.

  She was intelligent.

  She was good.

  She was worthy of being loved.

  He would love her until his last breath was gone. And though it hurt, he drew in one long last breath.

  58

  Good Things

  The first thing Katy noticed before opening her eyes was the smooth stone floor beneath her. But that wasn’t right. She should’ve been lying in a pile of rubble and ash. The power she’d felt leave her heart before she passed out had been strong enough to raze the city and the castle, as well as its walls and gates. According to Tearlach, the majority of the isle should have been destroyed and nearly every life ended. And yet the ground beneath her felt just as it had before she lost consciousness when her power consumed her.

  But where had her power gone? Katy held up a hand and dove deep within herself to find it. Sure enough, when she closed her eyes, she could still find the shadow and control it with her mind. But there was no more frenzied energy within her threatening to break out. Her power was within her control, and for the first time, Katy felt...normal.

  With her magic well within her grasp for the first time, she cautiously sat up and looked around. But before she could examine the platform that was somehow still standing, something caught her eye. A cluster of small leaves and thin vines formed a band around her upper arm. Katy reached up with her other hand to rub it but the mark didn’t come off. It was as though someone had taken a quill and ink to her skin, and yet, it was permanent. Curious, Katy lifted her other arm, and sure enough, it was there as well.

  While she was marveling at the changes, a light wind picked up, and Katy was suddenly aware of its chill in a new way. Instinctively, she reached back. Her heart faltered then sputtered back to life when she felt the thin, lacy, silky material that fluttered from her back.

  Wings. She had wings. She leaned over a puddle to examine the wings more closely in her reflection. They were taller than she’d expected, at least three feet high and nearly two feet deep, and nearly transparent. Wisps of orange, brown, red, and thin curls of blue swirled around their lacy surface, and though the sun hadn’t risen completely yet, she was rather sure they glittered.

  While she was studying the wings, another band caught her eye. She leaned closer to see. She looked as though someone had placed a circlet on her head, one that couldn’t be removed. Just like Tearlach’s band of blue swirls, only hers was made of green ivy that matched the bands on her arms.

  Katy wasn’t sure why she was so surprised. Tearlach had told her she would have wings, and he, himself, had been proof of the kinds of changes she would undergo. The clothes he had brought back for her had even been sewn with holes in the back. And yet she felt as though it were all a dream, and even after her manifestation, she would somehow have maintained her appearance of a human being.

  Human...If the castle in the city had survived, what about the humans? Her muscles ached as she slowly pushed herself to her knees and then her feet, but she forced herself to hobble over to the edge of the platform and look down. And when she did, her breath left her. There below stood the city. Behind her stood the castle as erect and sturdy as ever. The moor that rose and fell in its hills and valleys outside the walls was lush and green, and as far as she could see, the trees at its edge were full of leaves and life.

  But how could that be?

  Katy scrunched her eyes shut and rubbed her temples, trying to remember what had happened. There had been a fight. Tearlach had used his storms, and though Katy had disrupted most of them, she knew he had aimed every bit of power he had at...

  “Peter!” Katy whirled around to search for him. He had been holding her. That, she remembered. But when she awakened, she had been alone. After several frantic moments of searching, she found him in a heap on the far side of the platform. The way he was lying suggested he had hit the wall before falling to the ground.

  Katy ran to him and knelt at his side, and her hands trembled as she reached out to touch him. She couldn’t tell whether his chest was rising or falling, so she finally dared to turn him over.r />
  His eyes were still closed, but what caught her attention was the strangely familiar mark that now covered his right jaw, stretching from just below his cheekbone to the center of his neck. Katy reached down in wonder and brushed her fingers against his face. Just like hers, the leaves and vines seemed permanent. But what did they mean? Peter wasn’t Fae.

  His skin was warm, but before Katy could inspect him further, his hand reached up and clasped hers. He opened his eyes and blinked several times before focusing on her. And when he did, he seemed at a loss for words, and Katy was suddenly quite self-conscious. She looked at the ground then back up at him then decided staring at his armored chest was safest.

  “Are…are you well?” she managed to ask in a voice that wasn’t quite her own.

  He nodded but said nothing, just continued to stare.

  Katy put her hands over the marks on her arms as though that would make them go away, then realized the absurdity of trying to cover what he had already obviously seen. “He told me to expect the wings, but I didn’t know anything about...the arms—”

  Before she could finish, he reached out with both hands and gently but firmly took her face in them. Then his mouth was on hers. His lips were surprisingly warm, nearly feverish as he ran his hands through her hair and then along her face.

  His kiss the night before had been desperate, the way a drowning man might seek out air. And though the magic had already begun to swallow her by that point, she’d thought to find a more blissful moment would be impossible. But she had been wrong.

  This kiss was not so much desperate as hungry. The way his lips molded to hers was strangely like coming home, though she’d never been there before. Cupping her jaw with one hand, he sat up and pulled her closer until she could feel the warmth of his chest even through his armor.

  She didn’t realize she was breathing hard until he pulled back enough to search her face. Gently, he traced his fingers across her forehead, down her temples and cheekbones. They lingered on her mouth.