The centauress had ordered her satyr to hide from the very first moment Galeta had conjured a spell. But the female was a warrior and had held her own just fine. True, I wasn’t actively trying to kill her.
But she didn’t know that.
Which was probably why I was currently stuck with dozens of arrows all over, looking as though I’d been covered in porcupine quills. There was even an arrow embedded deep into my left nostril, causing a strange fluttering whistle to escape my nose with each breath.
I was escaping another volley of arrows and trying to dig a particularly irksome one out of my spine plate with my back foot when I realized that Galeta was no longer by my side.
Frowning and immediately worried, I looked left and right for her, ignoring the continuing irritation of arrows finding their mark. I was a bloodied mess and would bruise tonight for it.
Anyone worth his or her salt knew never to enter into a game of war against an armed centaur. It was a foolish endeavor, even for a dragon with hide as thick as mine. I would not die, but this was far from pleasant.
Thankfully, the centauress hadn’t tipped her arrows in poison; otherwise, I’d be singing a very different tune.
Then I spotted the clone. She was rushing out from behind a boulder some twenty yards away from me. Rushing the centaur with a blade crafted of red stone that gleamed like fire-dusted rubies and aimed directly at the centaur’s heart.
It would be a deathblow.
I shook my head and looked at the centaur, who’d been looking at me. Her brows dipped, and I saw the intelligent creature begin to piece the puzzle together.
In one fluid motion, she twirled, nocking an arrow and aiming it unerringly at the clone’s head.
I would never reach her in time in this current form, but transforming so many times in one day wasn’t a good idea. After a while, my bones would stop responding and I’d twist into a thing of horrors.
But I had no choice.
Calling down a transformation, I became a jabberwocky. A Frankenstein’s monster–type thing of feathers, lizard, and snake. Reaching out with my long neck, I head-slapped Galeta away at the same instant the centauress released her arrow.
I had no scales to deflect it this time.
The arrow sank deep into my neck, causing me to gasp as hot blood spilled from out of my vein. Alive with pain, I reacted, and using a broad, clawed foot, I slapped the centauress away too. Using more power than I otherwise might have because of the shock of my injuries. She fell hard, knocking her head upon an exposed boulder. In an instant, the satyr was beside her, but his eyes were for her alone.
Gasping for breath as each pump of my heart caused more blood to hemorrhage out of me, I held onto consciousness just long enough to gather up the clone’s slight form and drag her away from the eyes of both centaur and satyr.
Then I collapsed against the mountainside and awaited Fate’s hand.
I recall little of what happened next, other than that a terrible and thick darkness descended over the arena. Soft hands caressed the side of my neck, and then the power of a god pushed through me.
“You’ve done well, dragonborne,” Aphrodite whispered. “Now rest. When next you awake, you’ll be safe. Only shut your eyes...and dream.”
Chapter 12: In Which a Fairy Begins to Let Go...
Galeta
I walked around the hut, and even the grounds surrounding it, later that day when I’d finally deigned to stir. Looking for Syrith in order to apologize for my abominable behavior the night before.
He hadn’t deserved my rancor. But the shock of witnessing the past had been terrible to bear, and I had done what I’d always done—I’d retreated into my shell. Into my armor. Pushing people away because I couldn’t handle feeling the press of their judgment upon me.
I didn’t know how to be anything other than what I’d always been.
Cruel.
Alone.
Isolated.
But I’d felt his presence on the other side of the door all night. Again keeping watch over me. I’d wanted to get up and go to him.
I simply hadn’t known how.
But when I’d finally been brave enough to leave the isolation of my room, he was gone. And so here I sat, at the table, staring into a bowl of now-tepid gray broth and fearing I’d lost my only ally in this place.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I whispered tightly. I’d been all alone, and then he’d found me and brought life with him.
I hadn’t liked it. A part of me had even resented his intrusion into the sins of my past, but now that he was gone... My throat squeezed tight, and my face crumpled. I didn’t want to be alone either.
How was it possible that I had any more tears left to cry?
And yet the burn of them continued to trek down my face.
Reaching into the hidden pocket, to the vial of death I kept tucked tight against my breast, I gently fluttered my fingers across it.
Pop.
Whirling in my seat, knowing the marker tunnel travel left behind, I watched as Syrith’s body collapsed like dead weight upon the steel-gray couch.
With a cry wrenched from my soul, I jumped to my feet. Rushing toward him.
“Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.” I whispered the mantra over and over again.
My heart was a fluttering beat of hummingbird’s wings inside my chest when I finally got to him and saw his chest rise and fall with breath. Collapsing with relief, I felt my legs give out beneath me, and my upper half draped over him.
And this time when I cried, I wasn’t even sure why.
All I knew was I felt such a massive wave of relief that it shook me to my core.
Burying my face in his chest, I inhaled his heady fragrance of smoke and ash and male, trembling as I realized that the thought of him dying or being gone for good had affected me far more than almost anything else ever had before it.
I was sniffing into his shirt, staining it with my tears. I needed to get myself together, needed to move off of him and compose myself. That way, when he awoke, I wouldn’t look like the blubbering idiot I had now become.
“Why do you cry, fae?” His deep voice cut like ice through my thoughts.
Stiffening, I jerked off his warmth as though scalded and gasped, staring at him wide eyed as though he were a snake ready to sink his fangs in me.
His dusky skin was pale. And his jewel eyes a little duller. There were dark bruises on his face and chin and neck. Whatever he’d been doing, it hadn’t been a walk in the park for him.
My heart quivered as his long fingers brushed stray curls of thick hair out of his eyes.
He tipped his chin in expectation, and I knew he was awaiting my reply. No doubt he’d expect me to run off like a frightened, stupid bunny, same as I had last night. I steeled my nerves. I could do this. All I had to do was try. I’d thought I’d lost him. Now he was back. I couldn’t lose him again.
“I-I...” I cleared my throat. “I grew worried when I could not find you this morning. Where did you run off to, dragon?” I rushed through my words, petrified out of my mind that he would not answer.
He blinked, looking shocked that I’d actually answered him. Scarlet rose in my cheeks. Twisting my lips, I stared down at my hands. I’d released my claws without realizing it.
What was happening to me to make me so unhinged?
Sheathing my claws, I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to take deep, steadying breaths, feeling my nerves settle just a little after that.
Syrith’s warm touch made me open my eyes. He had laid his large, calloused palm over mine. I looked up and drowned in his electric blue-green eyes.
The press of his skin to mine, it was thrilling. It was also terrifying. My wings shivered.
“I had matters to attend to this morning. But I am fine, little fae. Do not worry over me.”
I bit my bottom lip at the gentle tenderness of his words. I’d never been so open with anyone before, and though I craved this intimacy, I w
as also unsure of how to deal with it.
Pulling my hand out from under his, I curled my fingers one by one and placed it on my lap. My other hand tingled with my desire to reach over and touch his hand again. That maybe by somehow doing so I could feel the sensation of his touch burn through me all over again.
I remained still.
His eyes drilled into my hand for several long seconds. Then he looked at me.
Wetting my lips, I rocked back on my heels, feeling the desperate urge to turn and flee. To get away from him. From this weirdness tugging between us.
I’d once helped curse another fairy for feeling as I now did.
Danika Moon. I’d despised her weakness. Her need for love. She was a fairy godmother. All knew fairies couldn’t fall in love; we simply weren’t wired that way. We were built with the desire to bring love to others but not for ourselves. The fae were never more content than when we drank, danced, and frolicked with our animal familiars. That was our life, our purpose. To have fun and perhaps aid in the happiness of others now and again. But no more.
I’d been so angry with Danika for wanting more than that, that I’d—again—been instrumental in destroying her joy. For several hundred years, I’d kept her separated from her lover—the man in the moon.
If I could do that to her, what right did I have to expect any sort of happiness of my own? I should leave and not entertain this folly anymore. But instead I forced my limbs to obey my brain and not my heart. I sat. Gathering my knees beneath me and tucking the hem of my gown between my thighs, rubbing my arm with that same hand he’d touched, I spoke.
“I was wrong last night, Prince.”
He went still. “About?”
Deep as liquid molasses was his voice. It pierced through me, resonated somewhere inside of me. My stomach flipped. I knew what was happening to me. I’d witnessed the first bloom of romance in its many varied forms through the ages.
“I should not have said the things I did. I am...I’m...”
I looked down at my knees, unable to finish saying the words.
His finger slid under my chin, and it was suddenly terribly hard to breathe.
“Say it,” he commanded gently.
I wanted so desperately to unburden myself with someone. To share the pain of my past. This morning when I’d thought him gone, it’d wounded me. Revealed a raw truth.
I liked Syrith.
Fae and humans were so different. We didn’t think as they did. We were born to do a task. Bring about joy and happiness to others. But I’d always been different. Always intrinsically wrong.
Most hated me. But they didn’t know how I fought my own urges either. Up until recently, I’d been able to mostly control that darkness within me. I’d do wrong, but I’d do just enough good not to make anyone question or poke too deeply.
My sins were so great, though. How could anyone bear to hear them and still think kindly of me? What if I told him all?
What if I shared?
Would he still look at me like this?
As if he saw me.
Not the façade, but the scared woman beneath?
It went against every part of me to apologize. It wasn’t who I was. Even if I felt the sting of regret, it never lasted long. I’d simply wrap myself deeper in rage, shoving out the maudlin, weak sentiments until I no longer felt them. Until I was hard and frosty again.
But this place wouldn’t allow me to do that. I’d been stripped bare here. I was vulnerable, and it hurt. It really, really hurt.
I closed my eyes.
“You can tell me anything, Galeta.”
He made to move away, but I clamped my fingers around his wrist, holding him fast. I might look slight, but I was strong. And though I didn’t know how to say it, his touch grounded me. Helped clear the fog of pain and memories.
“Why?” I asked with a slight shake of my head. “Why are you so kind to me, Prince? Why do you care?”
He sat up, and I finally opened my eyes. What I saw scrolled on his face was the same pain I’d seen the night before. Heat burned behind my eyes. But I would not cry. Not in front of him.
“You think I don’t know pain, little one, but I do. Keenly. Even after years, I still wake up with nightmares from it. Whatever you’ve done, whoever you think you are, you don’t have to be that here. Look around you, Galeta.” He lifted an arm, encompassing the whole of the room. “You’re safe. Though your memories may beat at our door, there is nothing here can harm you.”
“You?” I said softly. “You could.”
He shook his head then swiped up a tear I’d not felt fall. “But I won’t.”
I wanted to believe him. But I couldn’t understand this either. Life was give-and-take. Nothing was given for free. Not words of kindness. Not compassion. And certainly not truth.
“I don’t understand you at all, dragonborne.”
A lopsided grin stole across one corner of his full mouth. “That’s okay, fairy. I don’t often understand myself either.”
I laughed at his unexpected frankness. Which caused him to pause, looking at me strangely. As if he’d never seen me before now. His look was raw and honest, and I squirmed beneath it.
“I’m sorry.” I didn’t think about what I was going to say. It simply poured out of me. And I held my breath, waiting for him to mock me. Tell me I was worthless. Nothing.
“As am I.”
I swallowed hard. “Wha... Why would you—”
He would leave me now. Tell me he’d satisfied his curiosity and leave me alone in this foreboding and dreary realm. I just knew—
“I’m sorry that you believe yourself to be so unworthy of friendship, Galeta. I’m sorry that you’ve been so wounded by this world. And I’m sorry for what I’m about to do.”
I frowned, shaking my head, so desperate to keep him with me that I resorted to begging. “Don’t leave me now, Prince. I could not bear to be alo—”
But Syrith didn’t move anywhere but closer to me. Swooping in, he stole my words and my lips. His touch was soft, exploratory, and so bloody gentle that it was almost a whisper of velvet.
The kiss didn’t last long, but my entire world had just been rocked on its axis. Stars exploded behind my eyes. Blood rushed through my ears. And heat filled my bones.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead upon mine and murmured like a brushstroke against my lips, “You can hate me, fae, but I nearly died this morning, and I knew I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t do this at least once.”
~*~
Syrith
I waited for her slap. Her hiss. Her hate. Every nerve in my body tensed and expectant.
Instead, what I got was a dewy-eyed look, and then she pounced. Pressing me back against the couch in her fevered need to kiss me again.
I hadn’t been sure what to expect. I’d been gentle. Galeta was anything but. She stood up on her knees, leaning forward so far, her hands pressed into my chest. Her kisses were unpracticed and hard but all the more charming because they were so artless and naïve.
As Prince of Wonderland, I’d been made love to by beautiful women aplenty in dark, quiet corners. Nobles desperate to gain my hand and my title. Most of the women were adept in the art of seduction and had made my body tingle with need from one strategically placed kiss. But none of it had been real. All of it had been with the sole desire to gain the throne, and I’d known that. It was why I’d only once dared to give my heart to another.
I didn’t think I could ever feel alive again.
But my body burned beneath Galeta’s touch. Igniting in a passion and fury of raw, primal need I’d only ever felt once before. Never, however, with such fervency.
A sound of raw desire vibrated between us, and I knew it was our song. Hers and mine. Our need creating a melody of panting breaths and unspoken words.
I could only follow where she led me, willing to go now to any depths to save this female. When she pulled back, I was the one trembling.
Liquid blue eyes s
tared up at me with surprised shock. No longer quite so icy or pale blue, they now seemed to glow a deeper, brighter hue. Even the robin’s egg-blue of her hair seemed pale, the corkscrew curls now softer, flowing prettily around her shoulders.
She touched the tip of three fingers to her mouth, and I knew what she felt, because I felt it too. The burn of her remembered touch still singed. I trailed my tongue along the inside of my lips, tasting her sweetness of tart berries.
“The first Alice Hu,” she whispered brokenly, “she was foretold to be Hatter’s great love.”
I blinked, confused for a moment as to what she was talking about. But then I realized she was opening up to me, telling me what had happened yesterday. I waited. As long as she’d need, I’d wait.
“I planted the seed of doubt in her heart, Syrith. I told her lies.”
Frowning, I gave my head a slight shake. “You told her the truth. That Hatter would go mad. Even I know of it.”
“No.” She sighed softly, clasping her hands before her almost like a shield. “No, he wouldn’t have. He was as sane as you and I. What I showed her was an alternate version of history. One in which she’d left him, though she didn’t know it. Hatter’s madness was caused by her loss. By my machinations. The Alice with Hatter now, she wasn’t the one The Gray had destined to be his original match.”
I heard her pain, and I wanted to ease it somehow. “He may have suffered greatly, Galeta, but he found his great love. None could see this Alice and Hatter together now and think he suffers. He adores her. So who’s to say that your interference wasn’t also destined somehow? That maybe the Gray got it wrong?”
Her eyes flashed to mine. “What?”
I could tell by the note of shock in her tone that she’d never once entertained that idea as being a possibility. Being gentle, I thought of a conversation I’d once had with Mother several months after Seraphina’s death. I’d thought her words nonsense then. Too wrapped up in my anger and depression to try and understand what she was trying to tell me. That, or I simply hadn’t wanted to believe it was possible. But a part of me was finally beginning to grasp the truth.
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