by Cora Avery
“It’s nothing,” Endreas said. “See.” He held out his wounded bicep. “Already healing.” And it was, although the skin around the wound glowed angry red.
The lion’s dark brown eyes roved over to Magda, intelligence gleaming in them.
“This is Magdalena,” Endreas said. “She’s causing me a lot of trouble.”
She made a face at him, even though he wasn’t looking at her.
Endreas leaned back against the door, so casually, so easily, a part of her sparked with need. Need to see him like that all of the time. Less the Prince. More . . . Endreas.
The lion growled deep in his chest and lashed his tail, eyes fixed on Magda.
“No, that’s all right,” he said to Gur. “But I have a favor to ask. Take her where she needs to go.”
Magda stiffened. “What? No—”
Endreas’s finger pressed to her lips. She hadn’t realized how close she’d drawn to him until he was touching her, inspiring more goose bumps.
“Wait, will you, friend?” he said to Gur.
The lion-semargl yawned, stretched his wings, and dropped down to his belly, immediately closing his eyes.
Endreas moved away from the door, allowing it close, and stepped into her.
In spite of all her misgivings, her lips met his, drinking in his warmth and his breath and his scent.
He broke away, too soon.
She bit her lip to keep from going after him.
“Why did you do it?” he asked.
“Kiss you?”
“No. Defend him.”
She edged back, aching for the lack of his body against hers. “I told you. Kaelan is innocent.”
His jaw hardened. He leaned away.
She moved back into him, not allowing him to escape the conversation. “He knew nothing of who he was until he came of age. Even now, he has no idea. He was unconscious in Froenz’s hall. He still thinks he’s a Pixie Prince. Why should he be killed for a prophecy he knows nothing about and that might not even come true? It’s no more right for you to kill him now than it was for your father to try to do so when he was only a baby.” She hardened against him, even though it took all her willpower to keep from wrapping herself around him. “And if you think I’m going to stand aside and watch you slaughter an innocent person, or any innocent persons, then I’m prepared to disabuse you of that erroneous notion, Your Highness.”
“It’s too late, magpie. I know who he is now, which means my counselors know. And besides, your oracle gave a speech announcing him as the Resistance’s salvation. I will not have to kill him. My father will send his mercenaries. If you get in their way, they will kill you too.”
“What kind of mercenaries?” she asked.
He lifted his hand like he might throttle her, but the wound on his bicep halted him. His lips twisted in pain. His arm dropped to his side again.
“Why are you willing to fight for him? Because he is a Prince? Or is it something more?”
“I defend him because he hasn’t done anything wrong! He doesn’t deserve this death sentence.”
“Then send him away to the mortal world. There, he might have a chance to evade capture.”
“He’s in love with a nymph,” she said.
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Nymphs can’t cross over. The mortal world is too polluted. And I don’t think he’ll leave without her.”
He gave his head a little shake as if he couldn’t get the idea that Kaelan was in love with a nymph to settle in his brain. A feeling she shared. Finally, he seemed to give up, running his fingers over his brow as if wiping the thought away.
“There’s nothing I can do to stop my father,” he stated. “So I would prefer it if you stayed away from . . . him.”
“His name is Kaelan. And he’s your brother. And now that I know your father is going to send all manner of dire creatures after him, I have all the more reason to stay with him and help him as he has helped me.”
“You don’t understand, magpie. The prophecy—”
She threw her hands up in the air. “I’m so sick of prophecies!”
“One of us must die, or we will end up killing each other.”
Her shoulders dropped. “Why? Can’t you just decide not to? Did it ever occur to anyone that the only reason any of these prophecies come true is because we believe them?”
“You’re making this far more difficult than it has to be,” he said through his teeth.
“Why? Because I’m not simply giving in to everything you want?”
“It is foretold—”
“Screw that! You’re not doing this because of fate. You’re doing this because you want to. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have saved me just now. You could’ve allowed me to die and then Lavana would have no competition. After all, you’ll take whoever becomes Radiant, isn’t that right? It doesn’t have to be me.”
His nostrils flared. His hands tightened to fists.
“You could just as easily choose to forget about Kaelan. Forget about the prophecy. Forget all of it.” She pressed close to him, hands skimming his chest, tingling where she touched. “We could leave, Endreas, together. Come back with me to the mortal world and . . . leave behind all of this, prophecies and fratricide and war.”
His gaze combed her face. His thumb grazed her cheek, staggering her breath.
“I cannot turn my back on the Realms,” he said, “on my father, on my duty.”
“You could if you really wanted to,” she said.
“Could I? Why didn’t you simply give over the Enneahedron to Lavana when you had the chance?”
She sagged and turned away, sinking under the weight of his words. He was right, of course. She could never return to who she’d been. Prophecy or not, she was on this path now, and there was no turning back. The Rae in her wouldn’t allow Lavana to triumph unchallenged. But how she wished she could.
She faced him once more. “Whatever happens. I won’t allow you to hurt Kaelan. Or any of those who have found refuge in my Lands. So if that’s your plan, then there will be no peace between us.”
His eyes shut for a second, his jaw working as if fighting back a frothing host of words.
Finally, he said in a cool, even voice, “We will each do as we must, magpie.”
A chill quaked through her. She wanted to take it all back, to drag him into the bed and pretend as if she didn’t care about Kaelan or the small folk or her promises to Tamia and Ouda. If only she could.
If only.
Cold concrete weight crushed down on her.
“I can’t ride that creature,” she said finally, gesturing towards the lion-semargl.
“I ride Gur often. He is as steady in the air as he is on the ground.”
“That makes one of us,” she said.
“Are you afraid?”
“Yes,” she stated. How she hated this cold officiousness they were playing at. And yet, it was all too familiar.
This was the life of a Rae. Having a heart never did a Rae any good.
Endreas moved back to the dressing table, skirting her, setting down his cup.
“Even before I was almost thrown to my death,” she said to his back, “I never liked heights.”
He sank down into a chair of wood bent into water-smooth sinuous lines. “I can’t take you back, magpie. Not for a day or two. You’re welcome to stay with me until I’m strong enough to move through the Shadow Realms, if you’d like.”
Yes. She would very much like to crawl into his lap and lick every inch of his body until she knew what he tasted like from the tips of his toes to the tips of his ears—and every tip in between.
But Kaelan was in danger. Damion would be worried and furious. And where was Hero? She needed to find him.
Tamia expected her to act.
Lavana rode to the Spire.
Ouda needed her to protect the small folk.
And her feelings for Endreas . . . she could resist them. She had to.
“Wouldn’t your
father find out about me if I stayed?” she asked.
His gaze lowered to the polished stone floors between them—like dark mirrors, scrying discs showing a future clouded by doubt.
Her eyes turned back to Gur.
Deep breath, Magda.
She took a step towards the doors.
“Wait,” he said.
He pushed out of his chair. From a wardrobe that looked like a tree sprouting upon the wall, he removed a long black coat. His eyes were half-open, his gait sluggish. He held it out to her.
“It’s cold when you fly,” he said.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll ruin it?” she asked, gesturing to her filthy, torn, and blood-splattered clothes, which he hadn’t cleaned. Perhaps he was too tired, or maybe he was just tired of fighting a losing battle.
“I have many coats.” His eyes fluttered as if about to close. “Please, don’t argue. Just take it.”
She slid it on—wool on the outside and silk on the inside. “Thank you. Goodbye—”
“No,” he cut in. “It’s not. I’m coming for you, magpie.”
“You mean you’ll be following me?”
“I don’t need to follow you. I am always with you. I will always find you.”
She slid her arms into the coat, a tremor passing through her chest as the sweet musk of his scent surrounded her. Broad-shouldered as she was, the coat was loose over her back.
While she’d told herself she wouldn’t, she couldn’t seem to stop. She kissed him again, deeply, tongue taking one more taste, palms absorbing the rhythm of his heart. She broke away, but he caught the back of her head.
“Stay the night,” he said, his voice rough as though it were speaking against the will of his throat. “Please.”
Her fingers dug against his chest. “Come with me.”
Fingers trailing, his hand left her. She stepped back, heart quailing.
“Goodbye, Endreas.”
She turned, struggling not to run, gritting her teeth so hard she wasn’t sure she’d be able to pry her jaw apart later. She whipped open the door and hurried down the steps, the coat flapping behind her.
Gur rolled up to his feet and circled to face her.
She didn’t hesitate, she couldn’t.
She ran her hand over his mane while moving to his side.
“Take me away,” she told him.
She threw her leg over his back and balled the thick, musty fur of his mane in her hands, slamming her eyes shut.
Gur needed only a few strides and then he bound up, his wings beating against the wind like a second heartbeat.
Away.
“MAGDA!” Kaelan ripped her off of Gur’s back and crushed her in his arms, jarring her from the trance she’d been in since she’d left Endreas.
At some point, Gur had wanted to know where she wished to go. All she could give him, all she could find within, besides the hollow pain of leaving Endreas, was Kaelan. His scent, his looks, what little she knew about the last place she’d seen him.
Somehow, in the multitudes of islands dotting the gulf, Gur had found him.
“I thought you dead,” he said into her hair. His hand touched her cheek, jolting her. “You’re freezing.” Warmth began to spill into her from his hands.
She squirmed away. Not ready to be touched, to be filled, by another Prince. Not with the loss of Endreas so fresh.
“I’m fine,” she said thickly. “Just tired and . . . hungry.”
A familiar scrabbling tug pulled at her jeans. Whiskers tickled her chin. She almost smiled.
“Hero,” she said, scratching his head. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”
“And you.”
Gur growled. Hero scrambled behind her collar and to her other shoulder.
“Be nice,” she scolded.
The lion-semargl yawned, exposing his very long, very sharp teeth and then circled, trampling the low-lying ferns of the dense forest where they’d found Kaelan. He lay down, eyes closing. Pinkish dawn light colored the mist meandering around them. Strange birds called, squawking and singing. Among the deep shadows of the trees, she spied palms—she hadn’t seen a palm since she’d left California.
“What is that? Where did you get this coat? What happened?” Kaelan asked.
“I know where she got that coat,” a haughty voice declared. “And I know what that beast is and where it came from as well.”
From within the earthen shelter, almost invisible for the tree growing above it and the roots hanging over its lichen-encrusted door, Kirk emerged.
“He saved you, didn’t he?” Kirk said, accusing. “Master Python was right. He has seduced you.”
“Who?” Kaelan asked.
“The Crowned Prince,” Kirk said, “Endreas. Your brother.”
Magda took a menacing step towards Kirk, whose tiny shoulders twitched, belying his stoic expression.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t smear you under my shoe.”
Kaelan grasped her arm. “Magda, Kirk helped me. He brought me here so I could recover until I was strong enough to travel on my own again. He explained to me what happened, who I am.”
She ran her hands over her face. “They want you to start a war, Kaelan.”
“I know.”
She shook her head. “No, please. Listen.”
“Is Kirk right?” he asked. “Has the Prince—my brother—seduced you?”
She grabbed his tunic and yanked him closer. “I almost died fighting him to defend you while you were lying there helpless.” She unbuttoned the coat, holding it open to show him her ripped and blood-stained clothes. “Look at me.”
“Your wounds are healed,” he said softly. “And you’re alive, because he saved you. Why?”
She seized his chin with her fingers. “Because he wants to use me, the same way that odious little man”—she jabbed her finger at Kirk. This time, the brownie flinched noticeably—“and his master want to use you. You’re not an imp anymore, Kaelan. You’re not a Pixie. You’re an Elf and your father is the King. And he wants you dead. And soon he will be sending his assassins to make it so. Welcome to the life of nobility. Everyone either wants you dead or wants something from you. Don’t trust any of them.”
“Including you?” Kaelan asked archly.
“Especially me,” she shot back. “I’m tempted to kill you and Endreas and then myself, then what will happen to all of these so-called prophecies? Hm?”
Kaelan plucked at her arm. “You’re just tired, Magda. Why don’t you—?”
“Of course I’m tired. I told you I was tired. I almost died to defend you and for what? What is any of this for? Everyone in Alfheim is cruel and evil and a liar. They’re all guilty of something . . . what am I trying to save? What am I fighting for?”
Soft, furry warmth brushed her jawline. “For me.”
Tears filled her eyes and spilled over. She brushed Hero’s head with her fingertips.
Kaelan’s hand wrapped around her upper arm, firm, but gentle. “Come inside, Magda. You need to sleep.”
All the fire drained out of her and she nodded, allowing him to guide her into the dim hut. There, she collapsed onto a reed mat and into sleep.
“How long have I been out?” Drowsy still, she pushed up from the mat where she had been curled, surprised at how deeply and comfortably she’d slept.
“Through the day and night. It’s almost dawn,” Kaelan said from the other side of the room.
The shelter was little more than an underground hole, the floors laid with flat stone. A small hearth was built into one wall, dusty from disuse. Pale light shafted through a vent in the domed ceiling, which was high enough at the center for her to stand upright. Near the walls, she could barely sit up without scraping her head on the branch-work panels that covered the interior.
“What are you doing up so early?” she asked, wiping the sleep from her eyes.
Kaelan’s hands worked loose branches together in a quick, effortless motion, weaving them into a flat square.
She shoved off Endreas’s coat, which had served as her blanket, and reached for a cup and pitcher sitting on a low bench near the rounded door. “Where’s Hero? And Kirk?”
“I don’t know where Hero is,” he said, one brow arching. “I can’t speak to rats.”
She drank. Gritty and warm. Nowhere near as thirst-quenching as the water Endreas had given her. Ignoring the dull twinge in her stomach inspired by the thought of him, she emptied the stoneware cup and filled another. Stretching her neck, she felt better, stronger.
“Kirk left those for you,” he said, lifting his chin towards a set of clothes and boots sitting on the hearth. “He said you should dress like a proper Ljósálfr or you’ll be laughed out of the Spire before you have a chance to challenge Lavana. Also, he said, you should bathe.”
She sniffed, her nose wrinkling. “He’s right. I stink.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. His attention dropped again to his weaving.
“He went to check in with his master,” he said. “There’s some food here.”
He picked up a basket from beside him and held it out to her. She took it and flipped up the top. Grabbing a hunk of brown bread, she devoured it in seconds.
“You shouldn’t eat so quickly,” he said, “if you haven’t eaten in a while, which I assume you haven’t.”
She gulped down another cup of water. “I’ve been busy.”
“You’ve gotten too thin,” he said as if thinking aloud.
She smirked as she pulled an apple from the basket. “Put a couple of pizzas in front of me and I’ll gain it all back, I promise.”
“You don’t look healthy,” he said, stern.
The flesh of the apple was soft, but the sweet singing flavor remained. She slumped back against the wall, relishing the sugar buzzing over her tongue and the sticky juice on her lips. She chomped a few more bites before returning her attention to Kaelan. He had twisted around and was weaving the patch he’d constructed into a bare spot on the wall, where dirt and roots had poked through, mending the hut that clearly had not been tended with any real care for some time.
“How are you?” she asked.
He glanced over his shoulder. His face was somber, his eyes violet-shadowed, sleepless. He turned back to securing the patch into the wall.