Reaper: Faction 14 (The Isa Fae Collection)

by Gwen Knight

  “I need to touch them to reap them,” I reminded him. “But they’re armed. They won’t let me within a foot of them.”

  “Do you trust me?” he whispered.

  Did I? Yesterday, the answer to that would have been a solid no. But in that time, I’d begun to see him a little differently. I’d agreed to help him. Didn’t that mean I trusted him?

  He cut a glance my way, and finally, I nodded.

  I could do this. Trust a fae. Every inch of me wanted to tuck tail and run, but I needed him as much as he needed me.

  “Take your father and the others and get back to Markos. I’ll distract them as long as I can. Get them to the treeline, and you should be safe.”

  “What? Oren—”

  “Keira, please. For once, don’t argue.”

  I didn’t like this plan. Oren was risking his life. And for Markos’ plan to work, we needed Oren alive. He was the last of the noble line.

  He half-turned toward me and dipped his head, catching my gaze. “Trust me, please.”

  This time, trust had nothing to do with it. I was afraid. What if the guards killed him? But rather than argue, I did as he asked.

  As a unit, we backed up until we could no longer see the guards. My father and the others hid behind a house, but I stood in the middle of the road and held Oren’s gaze. He could glamour me. I could help him. Except, someone had to lead the others to safety. And that someone was me.

  For some reason, every bone in my body whined in protest as I continued to back up. I didn’t want to leave him.

  “Be safe.” I mouthed the words to him.

  He nodded, then tugged down his shirt and started toward the guards.

  Three against one were hardly decent odds, but I had to believe Oren could hold his own. He was Lord Arik’s son. Which meant he not only held a great deal of power but also he was a noble. Their prince.

  Unless Dask had already learned of our escape.

  “Keira,” my father whispered, “come on. We need to get out of here before they catch onto us.”

  I raked a hand down my face, then nodded. He was right. As much as Oren needed help, my father, Logan, and the others needed it more. So, I shook off this perilous feeling for Oren and slunk around the nearest pile of ash and charred wood.

  “We need to get to the trees,” I said, pointing to the north. “Markos’ house is approximately an hour’s hike in that direction. If we stray too far east, we’ll come to the bogs.”

  I was fairly confident I could find our way back. Oren had led the way here, but I’d paid attention, learning the land for myself.

  The sound of Oren’s voice rose in the distance. I winced and clutched my hands together, fighting off the urge to step in and help him. I had to trust he’d be all right. He wasn’t defenseless. But if I left my father and Logan, they would be.

  Gritting my teeth, I pointed toward the trees and nodded. “Let’s go.”

  We moved quickly, avoiding the bones of the dead as we went. The Foundry was by no means large, and we made it to the outer rim within minutes.

  I could hear Oren, his voice a tad panicked. I glanced over my shoulder, my heart leaping at the sight of him being held at sword point. Whatever story he was pitching, the guards weren’t buying it. Their bodies were tense, their sword arms steady.

  I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t leave him there to be run through. And from this angle, the guards wouldn’t see my approach.

  “Go,” I urged Logan onward. “Get to the trees. Wait for me there.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going back for Oren.”

  “Are you serious?” Logan hissed. “You’d risk your life for a fae?”

  I looked up at Logan with a sad smile. “He risked his life to save me. I know you don’t understand. Just know that this is the right move. If something goes wrong, follow our tracks to Markos’ house. Head north. Keep Osvea on the west, the bogs on the east. Eventually, the trees will start to thin and you’ll see a cabin.”

  “Keira.”

  “Go,” I snapped.

  Without another word, I raced back toward the Foundry.

  I’d made my choice.

  10

  I tire of winter. Of the snow, the ice, the cold. I barely remember the feel of a warm breeze, or the sun’s kiss upon my skin. The days seem to drag into one another, with barely a reprieve from this incessant chill. I can feel it in my brittle bones, as can everyone else. We yearn for the happier days. Before the humans. Before The Crossing.

  Before our fall.

  —Unknown Author

  My knees shook as I ran. Three guards were more than I felt I could take on, but I couldn’t back down now. From the sight of the scene unfolding before me, Oren had failed at convincing the guards he was no danger. And the guards seemed adamant that he return with them to Osvea.

  Fat chance of that.

  If either of us stepped foot in that city again, Dask would have us strung up in a heartbeat. Since Markos’ plan hinged on Oren being alive, that left only one course of action. I’d never reaped two at once before, but now wasn’t the time to question my abilities. I simply had to believe Oren would handle the third as best he could and avoid a sword to the throat in the meantime.

  Lucky for me, their backs were still to me.

  I caught the indecipherable widening of Oren’s eyes, but before the guards could turn, I reached up and cupped two of the three necks. Their hitched breaths immediately drew the attention of the third guard. Thankfully, Oren acted quickly. As I focused on my magic and the labored sound of my breath, he lunged at the third and tackled him at the knees.

  I heard their struggle as though from a distance, but I couldn’t focus on anything beyond the surge of magic coursing through my veins. I closed my eyes as I struggled to control the influx, my pulse beating wildly beneath my skin. Every inch of me flushed with warmth, and my skin puckered with tiny goose bumps.

  If I’d thought my magic too much in the dungeon, it was nothing compared to now. It felt like it might burst from my skin—too powerful to contain.

  The three of us cried out in tandem, and when the two guards spilled to the ground, dead, I followed them down, my knees drilling into the beaten dirt path. And even though my eyes were closed, I saw a brilliant white light, so blinding I thought I might weep.

  “Keira!” Oren cried out.

  I felt the soft touch of his hands against my cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears I hadn’t realized had fallen.

  “Breathe, come on, breathe!”

  I was aware of the burning pressure in my chest, but I couldn’t summon the strength to suck in a breath. My lungs ached for air, my body alight with pain. But I was caught in this trap, unable to release the guards, and unable to contain the magic pouring into me.

  “Hey, you need to breathe. Release them. You can do this.”

  I locked onto the sound of Oren’s voice, used it as a focal point, made him my center. The feel of his hands on my skin, the warmth of his presence, the smooth sound of his voice. The seconds seemed to drag into an eternity, but finally, I sucked in a rattling breath, my lungs rejoicing with a wheezed cough. The blinding light dimmed, and the world reformed until all that surrounded me were the Foundry ruins.

  My damp lashes fanned my cheeks as I opened my eyes and met Oren’s gaze. His face was pinched, his mouth a thin line as he watched me.

  “Blessed winter, Keira. You scared the hell out of me.”

  I pried my fingers from the guards and slumped forward, my head coming to rest on Oren’s shoulder. Every inch of me tingled with power. I felt as though I could do anything. Reap anyone. I was completely charged—and completely exhausted.

  “Can you move?”

  I could barely shake my head. It was the oddest sensation, to simultaneously feel so wired and so drained.

  “All right. Just take a moment.”

  I inhaled a deep breath, catching the faint aroma that clung to Oren’s skin. He smelled of magi
c and the woods, a smell I’d often associated with fae, but had never taken into consideration before. There was something natural about his fragrance, yet provocative. Part of me wanted to curl into him and bury my nose in the crook of his neck.

  The thought had me scrambling away from him.

  I rushed to my feet and shook my head. The magic. It had to be the magic. I would never…not with a fae. Not ever. Trusting him was one thing, but…no. Never that.

  “Keira?” He climbed to his feet, his gaze narrowed as he took in my reaction. “You all right?”

  Peachy. Just suffering some strange side effects from the magic overload.

  “Hey…” He reached for my hand.

  I saw the movement coming and dodged out of the way, stumbling backward and nearly tripping over one of the guard’s bodies.

  “Whoa!” Oren rushed forward and grasped my wrist, steadying me before I fell. “How about we take things slow?”

  Slow sounded good. Or non-existent even. I liked non-existent.

  “Would you say something?” he prodded. Green eyes watched me in concern, his brow furrowed.

  “We should leave. I sent Logan and the others north toward Markos. If we hurry, we could catch them before they wander too deep into the trees.”

  “Or we could take a minute and make sure you’re all right. Your skin is flushed, and your hands are shaking.”

  I glanced down at my hands, and my mouth pursed when I saw he was right. Question was, what had caused it? The magic or Oren?

  No. I couldn’t let my mind stray in that direction. He was fae. I was human. There was a line there, an invisible one drawn in the sand many, many years ago. Not to mention, his father was the one who had imprisoned me my entire life, and his brother had attempted to destroy everything that mattered to me. Then there was his uncle who wanted to depose his nephew and place Oren on the throne.

  Those were the things I needed to focus on. The plan, the rebellion—and Logan.

  Logan.

  “Keira?”

  “I’m all right,” I muttered. “And we should get moving. It won’t be long before another patrol is sent to investigate their whereabouts. When they find them dead…”

  Oren nodded, his gaze straying to the three bodies lying amidst the path. “I would have preferred a more peaceful ending, but the moment they spotted me, they knew something was up. Apparently, Dask has placed a bounty on our heads. Dead or alive for me, you alive.”

  “Of course he wants me alive,” I spat. “I’m too precious to kill.” I stared down at my trembling hands and willed them still. “But I’m going to make him regret that decision.”

  So many people crowded together within the dining room. Upon our arrival, Markos had decided it the best locale for an impromptu meeting. One room. Full of a great deal of power, both fae and witch alike. Made it a bit hard to breathe—a sensation I was becoming all too familiar with. Of course, it didn’t help that I was radiating magic. I’d never carried so much in my life. Surely it would be enough for Markos’ plan.

  I walked in to the sound of yelling and heated words. My father and Logan weren’t taking well to this new location. They didn’t exactly appreciate being surrounded by unknown fae, regardless of Markos’ assurances that they were safe. To them, this was a prison. I couldn’t blame them for their fear. As a whole, humans were naturally distrustful—a trait drilled into us over the many years of oppression.

  “Ah, thank goodness,” Markos muttered the moment I entered. “Perhaps it would be best to hear everything from her?”

  Logan shot me a scathing glare. From the looks of it, he had no intentions of taking my word any more seriously than Markos’. Maybe words weren’t enough in this case. Before Arik had stolen me away, my father had always told me actions spoke louder.

  I leaned toward Oren. “Maybe now would be best to remove their bracelets.”

  His eyes shot wide. “Are you serious?”

  “Trust needs to come from both sides. Right now, they’re wondering what sort of trap I’ve landed them in and how long until you all harvest them for their magic. We need to do something to show them otherwise.”

  I didn’t mention that it would also help me. Seeing Oren keep his word would cement our alliance in my head. He wanted me to trust him, and I felt like we started down the path. Now was his chance to prove himself.

  Sighing, he nodded and moved toward my father first.

  Logan grunted under his breath and stepped between them, the expression on his face quite clear.

  Oren met his harsh scowl with one of his own. Neither said a word, but neither had to. The tension quickly spiked within the room. For a moment, I wondered if I’d need to step in, but before I did, Oren reached for Logan’s right wrist and cupped it between his hands.

  “What are you doing?” But before Logan could jerk away, Oren traced the symbol across the top of the bracelet. I felt the spark of magic, then watched as the band clicked open and fell to the ground, inert.

  The whole room fell silent. Markos on the other hand stood back and watched with a pleased grin.

  One-by-one, Oren removed everyone’s bracelet until a small pile cluttered the floor. Taly snuck in and swept them out of the room. The last thing we needed was Dask to track any of the bracelets. Not that he would, believing them all to be dead. Still, a precaution.

  “Down in the sewers, please,” Markos called after her.

  Just like that—they were free. Like me. Elation warmed the pit of my stomach. Whether or not they joined the cause, they were free to live their own lives now.

  Oren returned to my side, his brows raised. “Here’s hoping that doesn’t bite us in the ass.”

  A faint smile tugged at my lips. He had nothing to worry about. Even with their bracelets removed, most of the fae in this room possessed more magic than them.

  “Ready to listen now?” I asked, my tone soft so as not to instigate another bout of yelling.

  My father staggered toward the nearest chair and sank into it, his face pale. “Never in all my years did I imagine being free of that thing.” He turned his watery gaze my way. “I wasn’t sure what to think…I’m not sure I do even now. But I’m listening.”

  Logan took the seat next to him, confusion wrinkling his brow. At least he’d stopped glaring. A step in the right direction.

  With a deep breath, I gestured across the room. “This is Markos Brooke, brother to Lord Arik.”

  The tension spiked once more.

  “I’m not even sure where to begin,” I said with a nervous laugh. Then I proceeded to tell them about my last couple of days. The dungeon, the burning of the Foundry, Arik’s death, Oren’s daring rescue, our escape, their plans to depose Dask, everything. By the time I’d finished, every chair in the room had been filled, and they all stared at the table in stunned silence.

  It was a lot to take in. Hell, I was still coping.

  “So, you want us to join in on this rebellion. Help you put Oren on the throne instead of Dask. And then what?” my father asked.

  “And then we move on with our lives. Find somewhere to live, whether you choose that to be Osvea or not,” I responded.

  Their expressions revealed they wouldn’t choose Osvea as their home. And I couldn’t blame them. I was just as desperate to get as far away as possible.

  “No bracelets, no reaping, nothing but our lives,” I persuaded.

  “You get how this all sounds, right?” Logan finally commented, his gaze swinging toward Markos. “You just hand us our freedom and then expect us to help you?”

  “I never agreed with your treatment,” Markos replied. “When my brother first created the Foundry, I opposed him. He and I rarely saw eye to eye on things, but this was something we disagreed on the most. It’s why he exiled me. It’s only now with Arik gone and Keira and Oren at my side that we stand a chance.”

  Logan’s lip curled. “You only want to use her. Risk her life to kill Dask. But what if she dies in the process? The man is surrou
nded by an entire guard.”

  I blinked at Logan, surprised he even cared about my wellbeing right now. Maybe he was starting to see reason.

  “We would take the appropriate steps to alleviate as much danger as possible. With you all at our side, we might have enough power to take the estate.”

  Laughter swelled up amongst them. “Enough power? We’re eight witches against the entire fae guard.”

  “Keira alone has more power in her than most.”

  Ah, he could sense that, could he?

  “She has to touch him in order to reap him. That means getting nice and close. How can you guarantee her safety?” Logan demanded.

  “I’ll be there,” Oren said.

  Once again, the room fell into silence. Including me.

  “Don’t look so surprised,” he said, nudging me with his shoulder. “You think I’d send you in after my brother without some protection? Out of the entire city, my family possesses the most magic. It seems likely Dask will have inherited all of my father’s power, but with Keira, I think we’ll be evenly matched.”

  “I don’t know magic like you do,” I confessed. “Arik never felt it prudent to teach me. The only thing I know how to do is reap.”

  Oren nodded, then met my gaze, his eyes bright with compassion. “I understand. I can teach you a few things before we go. Some minor spells to help you, some defensive. But I would never expect you to go alone. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  “Oren—”

  “No, Markos. I won’t send her in there alone. If I’m to take the throne, then I need to be there. I need to see Dask’s face when he realizes what we’ve done. The bastard murdered our father. While I might not have agreed with his politics or methods, he was still my father.”

  Whereas I was still stuck on the notion of Oren teaching me some spells. The thought of spending time alone with him did things to my pulse. Things I wasn’t sure I liked. Things I was sure I did. Which unsettled me all the more.

  “And us?” Logan asked. “Are we nothing more than fodder? Bodies to toss at the guards with the hope of distracting them?”