Balkin steepled his clawed hands together as his eyes took on a faraway slant. It was entirely possible he was trying to recall something from long ago. Balkin had lived longer than everyone in the room combined. Occasionally, it took him a while to sort through his memories.
He tapped his claws, clicking them together lightly. Sabine had witnessed him rip apart intruders with those claws when they’d trespassed into the Silver Forest. Yet she’d never been afraid of him. Balkin was the one person she trusted most in this world.
After a long time, Balkin said, “The Fae may have been given the gift of knowledge to create and wield the chalice, but it was later entrusted to my people for safekeeping. We hid it in a place where we believed none of the magical races would look, should the fighting amongst them lead to temptation in releasing the gods from their prison.”
Dax arched his brow. “Were you there, old man?”
“No, but my father was the one who had been tasked with hiding it,” Balkin said, his eyes shimmering with the golden light commonly seen when Beastpeople experienced a strong emotion.
Sabine lowered her wineglass and placed it on the table. “That’s why you brought me here. You knew the chalice had been safe here for centuries, so you believed I would be safe here too.”
“You are as much a treasure as the chalice,” Balkin said gently.
Sabine blinked away tears. “I’ve missed you, Balkin.”
“As I have missed you, my darling kitten.”
Dax drummed his fingers on the table. “I’ll rescind the deal made with the dragon. I have no intention of allowing this item to fall into their hands. They may intend to organize a sneak attack and attempt to eliminate the gods for good this time.”
“Malek claims the portal is already failing,” Bane said with a shrug. “He’s hunting the artifacts to ensure they can keep the portal sealed and to prevent another war.”
Balkin’s gaze sharpened on her. “I have heard whispers about the portal magic fading. What are your impressions of this dragon?”
Sabine hesitated and folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know. He’s come to my aid more than once without attempting to make any undue demands. I want to believe him, but I don’t know enough about dragons. Can they lie?”
“Not like humans,” Balkin said, rubbing his chin in thought. “They can lie by omission or misdirection, much like the Fae. Perhaps he is a different sort than the dragons from legend. I will speak with this dragon of yours before I make a decision.”
No one questioned Balkin about his right to determine the fate of the chalice. If it had been entrusted to Balkin’s father and he’d been the one to hide it, Balkin was the rightful bearer of it.
Sabine nodded. “Malek should be arriving shortly. He claims to have some information about the other artifacts. He’s going to bring it here so I can review it.”
“He wants her help to locate the other items,” Bane said with a scowl. “Among other things.”
“No,” Dax said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. “She will do no such thing.”
She arched her brow. Before she could remind Dax about the dangers of trying to subject her to his will, Balkin sprung from his chair and threw Dax against the wall. His claws were at the demon’s throat before anyone could react.
“You dare speak to her that way,” Balkin hissed, his words barely recognizable as his claws started to dig into Dax’s neck. “She is a Faerie Royal, the last of her mother’s line and direct descendant to the Unseelie throne. You will get on your knees and beg for her forgiveness, or I will rip out your throat.”
Sabine slowly stood. “No, Balkin. Not here. We’re in Dax’s den, and he needs to retain his power here. You will not demand this from him.”
“I will not permit him to treat you as less than you are,” Balkin growled.
“Dax is not my enemy,” she said gently, motioning for Bane to remain where he was and not get involved. Balkin was trying to protect her, and she was the only one he’d listen to. Sabine didn’t know the entire history between Balkin and Dax, except the Beastman had saved the demon’s life and brought him and Bane to the surface years before she’d fled her home. It was Balkin who’d helped establish the two brothers in the city, and both of them were somehow permanently tied to the Beastman. Or at least Dax was. She didn’t know what hold, if any, Balkin had over Bane.
Walking over to the Beastman, Sabine placed her hand on his arm. “Dax and I have reached an understanding. I have conceded not to interfere in his den when he’s present, and he has agreed to respect my boundaries. We have been able to coexist only because we both agreed to these terms. He does not make decisions for me, but I do respect his opinion—as I do yours. You chose well when you named him my protector.”
The reminder Balkin had been the one to form the pact between them was enough to encourage him to retract his claws. He released Dax but didn’t move away. Dax crumpled to the ground, blinking rapidly as he tried to fight off the effects from Balkin’s poisoned claws.
Sabine pulled out her knife and pricked her finger, allowing her blood to well to the surface. She bent down, offering her blood to Dax. He wrapped his hand around her wrist eagerly, pulling her hand closer and accepting her gift. Balkin’s claws weren’t poisonous to her or to any of the Fae, and her blood was also an antidote.
“You would reward him for his insolence?” Balkin muttered in disgust. “He would not have died from so little poison, but perhaps he might learn a lesson.”
“No, it wouldn’t kill him,” she agreed and stood, watching as Dax shook off the lingering effects. “Dax is stronger than that. But I will not have my protector weakened when I need him at full strength. You taught me that, Balkin. I remember your lessons.”
“Very well.” Balkin frowned and glared at Dax who was still on the ground. “You will remember your life is a gift only because my mistress wills it.”
“Understood,” Dax said, pushing up from the floor.
Sabine hooked her arm through Balkin’s and led him back to the table and away from Dax. Even on the best of days, Dax had a way of getting under people’s skin.
“I’m pleased to see you again, but I wish it were under better circumstances. The message you sent to Dax was vague. Will you tell me about the seer’s vision that brought you here?”
He patted her hand idly. “Usagi is very old. She spends much of her time in dreams, rarely awakening. When she does, her confusion makes it difficult to separate her visions from reality. She came to me under the cover of darkness several days ago and told me of whispers from the spirit world. I came to you immediately.”
A sense of foreboding fell over Sabine. Usagi was more than just old; she’d lived through the worst of the Dragon War and had seen the portal collapse. As one of the most ancient Elders, Usagi held a special place of honor amongst the Beastpeople. Even the Fae treated her with no small amount of respect. Usagi’s visions had foretold the death of Sabine’s mother, and any warnings from her needed to be taken seriously.
Sabine frowned. “What did she tell you?”
“She dreamed of a battle on stone streets. The moon fell into darkness. An ancient iron blade forged in dragonfire. Death. Plots within plots. A crossroads and a choice.” Balkin paused, staring at the chalice still untouched on the table. “When she awakened from her vision, Usagi was more clearheaded than I have seen in a century. She urged me to find you with great haste, warning me you were in danger.”
Sabine blanched. “She named me specifically?”
Balkin gave her a curt nod. “She spoke your name, Sabin’theoria. Twice the moon will be shrouded in darkness. The third time heralds the return of the Wild Hunt.”
Bane stood and walked over to her, his frown deepening. “You’ve cloaked the moon twice now, haven’t you, little one?”
Sabine managed to nod, thoroughly shaken. “Yes. The night I was ambushed, I hid the moon and was forced to pull power through the ground to escape. The second was the n
ight we stole the chalice. I lost my glamour that night when I broke the lich ward. I wasn’t shielded either time.” She muttered a curse at her carelessness. She’d known it was a risk both times, but her options had been limited. “My father must have sensed my magic. Either that, or he still has people searching for me.”
“Your father will never stop hunting you,” Balkin said, his tone sharp and biting. “As long as you are alive, you will remain a threat to your father and brother. Do not grow so accustomed to pretending to be human you forget yourself and the danger surrounding you.”
Sabine looked away and didn’t respond. It was impossible to forget she wasn’t one of them, but it wasn’t as difficult to slide into the role of pretending to be human anymore. She’d blurred the lines for so long that wearing the glamour had become second nature. The most challenging aspect had been tempering her magic and relying upon it less.
She may have stunted her magical growth, but she’d enriched herself in other ways and strengthened some of her lesser talents. She’d always been mediocre with weapons, but Dax and Bane had insisted upon daily training for years. Now she was as competent with a blade as she was with her magic, but still lacking in both compared to many of her enemies.
“How can we stop the Wild Hunt?” Dax approached the table and kept a respectful distance from Balkin. He appeared fully recovered from the poison, but he likely wasn’t willing to risk angering the Beastman a second time.
Sabine shook her head, remembering the terrible stories she’d heard as a child. The Wild Hunt was the Fae’s most terrible and fearsome enforcer. The sacrifice to summon it was costly, and only the target’s death would stop it. “You can’t. It can only be Called with blood and magic, and once unleashed, it will not stop until the contract has been fulfilled.”
Balkin was quiet for a long time. “It can be stopped if the summoner falls.”
Sabine squeezed her eyes shut. It all came back to her brother’s death. Even if she agreed to mark both demons and allowed them to go after Rhys, she wasn't sure they would make it past the Silver Forest. It wasn’t just the trees that protected the heart of Faerie. Major magic would be required to encourage the forest to accept a demonic presence, and the Fae would be alerted the moment she lowered her protections.
Part of her still desperately wanted to believe Rhys hadn’t been the one to demand her death. As long as there was a chance, she wasn’t willing to agree to end his life. She wasn’t sure she could do it even if he truly wanted her dead. He was still her brother.
A knock on the door interrupted them, and Dax frowned. “That must be Esme.”
He walked over to the door and flung it open. Esmelle breezed into the room, patting Dax’s cheek affectionately as she moved past him in a swirl of colorful skirts. In her other arm, she carried a small flowering pot filled with lavender. Dax’s eye twitched in irritation, but he slammed the door shut and muttered something under his breath about stinky plants.
Blossom darted out from the plant, spotted Sabine, and dove into her hair. The tiny pixie pressed up against her neck, getting as close as possible and whispered loudly, “He’s a dragon, Sabine! Your ship captain is a dragon! Esme says so!”
Sabine’s mouth twitched in a smile, and she arched her brow at Esmelle. “Indeed. It might have been helpful to know that a little earlier.”
The witch shrugged. “Malek made us promise not to tell you, but I didn’t make any such promise about keeping it from the pixies. Blossom volunteered to share the news, so I brought her here.”
“Tricky witch,” Bane said with something that looked like approval in his eyes. “You knew the pixies would tell her the truth and you could get around the agreement. We planned something similar but shared our information with Balkin.”
“Looks like I’m not the only tricky one,” Esmelle said with a grin and winked at him. Turning back to Sabine, she added, “The other pixies were terrified Dax or Bane might eat them if they came here, but Blossom said she’d be safe. You wouldn’t allow anyone to eat her.”
“Esme’s right. I won’t allow you to be eaten,” Sabine said, more for Dax and Bane’s benefit than for Blossom.
Pixies possessed powerful nature magic and were considered delicacies by most demons. Since they didn’t have the same offensive abilities as the Fae, demons had been known to eat entire pixie clans as a snack before lunch. She didn’t think they would eat Blossom, but it was better to keep them separate. Just in case.
Dax snorted and finished pouring himself a drink. “A pity. It’s been a while since I tasted pixie.”
Blossom squeaked and covered herself with Sabine’s hair. Sabine sighed and reached up to send a trace of reassuring magic over Blossom, knowing Dax was just poking fun at her.
Balkin studied the pixie. “How did the pixies manage to find you in the city? Their kind don’t usually leave the forests.”
“Her magic called to us,” Blossom said from her perch on Sabine’s shoulder. “She summoned another pixie clan too. They arrived a couple of days ago, but they haven’t met Sabine yet.” In a quieter voice meant for Sabine’s ears alone, Blossom added, “I don’t think they’re worthy of your magic. They tried harvesting flowers before the moon was in alignment. If they do, it’ll upset the balance of the garden and kill the flowers. My sisters want to chase them off.”
Sabine froze as the hidden meaning in Blossom’s words registered. It was one more reference to the moon and death, presumably hers. Whatever news the pixie clan had to share didn’t bode well for her. “I see. That’s… unfortunate. It sounds as though I’ll need to have a talk with these pixies soon.”
“Keeping them with you is risky, my darling kitten. Pixies are not always trustworthy. Many are spies.”
Blossom bristled at Balkin’s words. “I would never betray Sabine. She protects us.”
Esmelle took a seat in an empty chair and arranged her skirt around her. “I have to agree with Blossom, Balkin. They’ve been living in my garden for years. They’re all enamored with Sabine. They won’t betray her.”
Sabine sighed and sat in the chair again. A faint trace of pixie magic floated over her as Blossom smoothed out her hair and started braiding it. At least the task would keep the pixie calm and busy for a while until Sabine got her back to the garden.
Focusing again on Balkin, she said, “Dax and Bane help quite a bit, but it’s still not easy being surrounded by stone, metal, and dead wood. Blossom and her family help mitigate the negative effects of living in the city. I trust them.”
Blossom trilled happily at Sabine’s words and continued braiding. Balkin frowned, but he didn’t dispute her words.
Esmelle cocked her head, studying the artifact on the table. “So that’s the chalice, huh? It’s prettier than I expected, especially with all that magic swirling around it. What are you going to do with it?”
Balkin’s eyebrows rose. “You can see the magic, little witch?”
Esmelle grinned and leaned forward in her chair. “Oh, Balkin. I’ve missed having you around, you stuffy old Beastman. Yes, I can see most magic. It’s a fairly new ability, and I’m still learning my way around it. Sabine’s been helping me. The colors surrounding the chalice are almost identical to Sabine’s power. Well, when she’s not hiding behind layers and layers of glamour.”
“You have grown more skilled.” Balkin walked over and patted Esmelle on the head as though she were a small child.
Sabine bit back a smile at Esmelle’s nonplussed expression. Balkin thought highly of Esmelle and her abilities, but he tended to treat everyone like children. Granted, part of that was probably because they were little more than toddlers compared to him. But Esmelle was a witch in her prime. Even though she’d live an extended life beyond most mundane humans, she wouldn’t be as long-lived as other magical races.
Other than Malek, only the people in this room had seen her without glamour. Esme had been instrumental in helping Sabine adjust her illusion to appear more human. The witch was the f
irst human Sabine had ever met, which was part of the reason Balkin had enlisted her aid. Those first lessons in sloughing off her Fae mannerisms and becoming proficient in the common tongue had been mostly handled by Esme. In exchange, Sabine had agreed to teach the witch additional magic.
Balkin continued walking around the table to Sabine. “To answer your question, I have not yet decided what I shall do with the chalice.” He paused, placing his hand on Sabine’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Despite our efforts, I am afraid none of my treasures may be safe here in the city. I will not risk losing either of them.”
Bane and Dax tensed at his words. Sabine lowered her gaze and took a steadying breath, suspecting Balkin was right. The thought of leaving the people she’d grown to care so much about caused her heart to stutter in her chest. But staying would endanger all of them. If—no, when—the Wild Hunt made their appearance, casualties were considered acceptable as long as the Hunt fulfilled its purpose. Humans, especially the defenseless children in Akros, wouldn’t stand a chance.
Esmelle frowned. “We can fight it, can’t we? If we all stand together, we should be able to protect Sabine. She escaped from it once before.”
“That was different,” Sabine admitted and picked up her glass of wine. “The Hunt was once formed from Unseelie magic. Over time, it developed its own awareness and changed. The magic has become wild, not something controlled by the Fae.”
Sabine took a sip of her wine, absorbing the magic within it and infusing it with hers. The unpleasant thoughts in her head made the wine taste like ash. Setting it aside, she folded her hands in her lap again and continued, “After my mother died, the Wild Hunt came for me with the intention of returning me to Faerie so I might take the Unseelie throne. That was one of its original purposes, to determine the right of succession. Balkin managed to turn it away with an oath to the Huntsman that I would return one day and take my rightful place. If I return to Faerie now, I won’t survive it. My father will see me dead, and I don’t believe I’m strong enough yet to stand against him.”
To Kill a Fae Page 25