It’s that thought that has a smile curling my lips, and I spur my stag into action, galloping through the gates of a palace I was never meant to inherit.
But I will take it, regardless. A weed like the Lumistone plants. He didn’t rip me out by the root while he had the chance and now—I’m not going anywhere.
My stag gallops down the pathway through the Iridescent Forest—white oaks whose leaves are near see-through, casting off light from the sun and scattering it all around like a forest of mirrors. As children, we used to gather piles of leaves and then maneuver them so that the light projected a pattern or image, like constellations. Or we’d create mazes and try to crawl through without touching a ray of light.
This forest holds a host of memories. I know it like it’s my own home. So, when a whisper of magic tickles my ear, I pull my stag to a complete stop. His hooves skid on the ground, pebbles flying.
Another indistinguishable whisper sounds from a path to the west. It bounces around, calling to me. Then, there’s another. And another. A whispering tone I recognize but can’t understand. The feeling shifts through me, delving deep into my soul.
I smile and direct Killian down the west trail, following the magic until finally, I spy the shadow fae sitting on a branch of a white maple, smiling at me.
“Took you long enough,” she says, her tone light.
“You didn’t need to leave the palace so early. It’s not my fault you decided to sleep in a damn tree.”
She hops to the ground, wiping her hands on her pants. “I figured it would be easier to get out of there while it was still dark.” She shrugs. “Nice stag.” She rubs his nose gently.
“Thanks.”
“Do you need him? I thought you said there was a portal nearby?”
I nod. “It’s about five miles off. Not far, but it will take us near the gates. It’ll be another thirty miles or more to reach the Crumbling Court stronghold.”
She purses her lips, an odd expression on her face.
“I couldn’t get a stag for you without being unnecessarily obvious. My father might already know we’re working together, but my people don’t.”
Her smile is bitter, eyes dark. “I understand.”
“You are welcome to join me. There is plenty of room for two.”
Her eyebrows rise, her lips curl into a smile I can’t take my eyes off of. “Your stag is not faster than I am.”
“Oh!” I match her smile with one of my own. “You think you can keep up, do you?” Excitement already pumps through my body. I do love a challenge, almost as much as I love being right.
“Try me.”
Without missing another beat, I kick my stag into action and press him into a full sprint, adrenaline pumping, eyes focused. Trees blur by as we soar through the forest, my stag’s stamp light and agile. Fae are fast, but a war mount like Killian will always be faster. No exceptions. And yet I hold nothing back. The trek is only a few miles, so even if my victory is extreme, I’ll be able to backtrack and find her easily.
And I know she’ll give it her all, so I give mine.
I round the bend, the trees thinning, and I see the marble archway where the path dead ends. I continue pressing Killian on as if my competition could be anywhere near me. As if she were next to me, challenging my win.
I pull Killian to a skidding stop but before we complete our halt, a shadow shifts and reveals an incredibly beautiful blond fae, leaning against the arch and smiling wickedly.
I cannot even explain the things that smile does to me. My bones melt, mind frozen, heart pattering. Tung tied.
“How?” I finally get out.
She beat me. She somehow won this race, and I’ve never seen someone look more beautiful while doing it.
She chuckles darkly. “Just when I thought you’d learned to stop underestimating me.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Never, apparently.”
“I’m a shadow walker, remember?”
An inky black mist envelopes her, and an instant later she’s standing beside Killian. He rears back, shuffling and huffing uncomfortably, but Caelynn mumbles softly to calm him until he allows her to rub his nose.
“You can leap through shadows?”
“Something like that.”
“How far?”
“A few dozen feet at a time.”
I blink slowly. Wow. It’s not as good as the mile I was imagining but still rather impressive.
“It requires magic, so I don’t often use the ability if I can help it.”
I nod. It’s always best to conserve energy when possible. I hop off of Killian and adjust his reins, patting his neck. Then, I lead him forward, toward the arch.
He huffs again, jerking his head.
“Not a fan of portals, huh?”
I shake my head. “Most animals aren’t. Feels unnatural to them, I suppose.”
Caelynn nods.
I circle Killian around to give me enough distance to lead him into a trot just before we reach the portal. He resists the moment the sizzle of magic becomes audible, but the bit of speed we built allows me to pull him through without much hassle. He stamps and huffs several more times once we are firmly on the other side—a good six hundred miles away from the Luminescent Court. The trees are darker, the leaves deep green, bark thick and heavy almost as if made of stone.
Caelynn takes in a long breath the moment she stops beside us in this new land. Does she feel closer to home here? The Crumbling Court is less than a hundred miles south east of her homeland in the Shadow Court. That’s still a ways away, of course, but it’s one of the closest courts to hers.
The queen set up this portal specifically for me and my quest shortly after the games ended. It puts us only about five miles north of the Schorchedland gates. It allowed me to do some work understanding this place, especially once I realized it wouldn’t allow me to pass through.
Over the green forest, the very top of the massive wall made entirely of green vines covered in sharp thorns can be seen. It makes me sweat just being this close. I don’t fear the cursed lands or the dangers trapped inside. It’s the threat of inevitable failure that looms over me.
Ever since Caelynn brought up the idea of my father sabotaging me, I haven’t been able to stop that thought from taking root in my mind. But I’d already scoured the place, up and down the vine walls, looking for signs of some kind of unnatural curse or recent charms. There’s really not much of anything. Remnants of wraith bargains, but that’s fairly standard and couldn’t possibly have anything to do with my particular struggle.
If I cannot get inside those walls... I will forever be remembered as a failure. I will be hated. And the death of every fae in the land will be on my head. I swallow and bite the inside of my lip.
My only saving grace right now is that there has been a lull in the curse’s movement. It isn’t actively prowling through our lands at the moment. The scourge—a plague turning everything it touches into stark decay and sucking the ground of its magic entirely—hasn’t spread in weeks.
The queen has kept me mostly updated on its progress. Right now, she’s not breathing down my neck to figure my shit out because her people are not actively dying. That will change soon, and I’ll know I’ve run out of time.
“We’ll find a way,” Caelynn promises, her voice soft and comforting. I’ve heard her voice dark and menacing, stubborn and fiery. But it’s this tone that affects me the most. It sends a shutter all the way through me.
We walk down the uneven path, leading away from the Wicked Gates, and with each step, the pressure eases.
After pushing Killian hard in my pathetic loss, I allow him to take a leisurely pace without my weight holding him down.
The first mile takes an achingly long time, though part of me enjoys the relaxation. The calm forest and lack of urgency. Something about Caelynn sets me at ease. Which is incredibly ironic considering she shoved an obsidian blade through my brother’s heart a decade ago.
I’m not sure
why I insist on reminding myself of that fact so frequently. Perhaps it’s because I need the reminder. I need it so that I’ll remember to stop staring at her slender figure. Or dwelling on her impressive power and hypnotic smile.
Finally, I hop back into Killian. No need to develop sore feet this soon into my journey. Besides, I brought that damn stag for a reason; I may as well ride him.
Once settled on the saddle, I hold my hand out for Caelynn.
“Hell no.”
I purse my lips and consider arguing with her. But I know better.
I canter with Killian for two additional miles, Caelynn keeping up easily, but her gait is awkward. Over time a legitimate limp shows more and more. Finally, I notice her hand fall to her thigh and come away slick with blood.
I pull Killian to a stop immediately. “When did you do that?”
She shrugs, continuing a quick march.
“Caelynn.”
“I injured it during the fight with the assassins. It must have reopened during our race. It’s fine.”
“Get on the damn stag,” I tell her.
She clears her throat, her jaw clenches tight, her arms crossed.
I shake my head and hop onto the ground. “Fine. You ride, I’ll run.”
“I’m not taking your stag from you.”
“Well, I’m not letting you continue on in pain. So, ride with me, or we’ll make camp here for the night.”
“It’s not even noon.” She holds her palms out in annoyance.
“Then, it will be a long-ass night.”
“You’re so stubborn.”
“You’re joking.” I blink. She thinks I’m the stubborn one?
She smirks but then rolls her eyes. “Fine! I’ll ride the damn stag. The injury isn’t anything to worry about, though.”
“No reason to stress it.” It does cross my mind that I could heal it. But healing is such an intimate thing—my magic, my essence, enters the body, stitching the fae up from the inside out—that I’m not sure I want to do that with Caelynn a second time.
The first time, I hated her. I couldn’t understand my drive to protect her, her hold over me. But now, I know the why, and somehow that makes it worse.
She’s my fated mate.
She’s the partner my magic chose for me. I hardly even know what that means, but that makes it all the scarier. Especially with someone I know I can never truly be with, for many reasons.
So, now that I know—now that I’ve forgiven her for the unforgivable act of killing my brother—I don’t know if I could let myself become that vulnerable with her again. Even if it’s just a shallow leg injury.
I hop back onto Killian easily and hold my hand out for her. She takes it without meeting my eye and leaps up onto the saddle behind me.
She attempts to sit far back on Killian’s rear, but the saddle dips and as soon as we begin moving, she slips closer and closer to me. Her chest presses to my back in only moments. Her annoyed grunt makes me chuckle.
She reluctantly rests her hand on my waist, and my heart stutters a beat. Her body heat sears my skin.
“Is this okay?” she whispers.
“Yes,” I say with an easy chuckle that isn’t at all a representation of the level of ease inside my body. I’m wound like a top, ready to explode.
Caelynn and I spent a lot of time together during the trials, but in all of that, despite becoming extremely vulnerable, we were rarely this close physically. We never touched, not if we could help it.
She’s not going to stay, I remind myself.
My conflicting feelings for her don’t matter. I can’t be attracted to her; I’m not allowed to want her. Because, with any luck, in a matter of days, I’ll be inside the Schorchedlands, and when I return, she’ll be sent right back to the human world.
It won’t matter. So long as I don’t let myself get too entangled in her.
The future our magic intended for us can never come to pass. It’s up to us how much that fact shatters us in the process.
Caelynn
My hands rest gently on Rev’s waist, and I torture myself, running through every place our bodies are currently touching. On every feeling, every shift of our bodies. The way we move together with the rhythm of this beautiful stag’s clomping hooves.
Stupid mind. Stupid body. Stupid magic.
Prince Reveln of the Luminescent Court might need my help. He might even trust me. But he won’t ever want me. And even if he does, what difference does it make? I’m doomed. My future set.
Whatever might have been, the residual feelings between us will be snuffed out soon enough.
Rev’s muscles are tense; I can tell because my body is flush against his.
“What you thinking about?” I ask casually.
He clears his throat, shoulders straightening. “Nothing.”
I snort. Perhaps he feels uncomfortable about our closeness because he dislikes it. I bite my lip and shift away from him. I don’t get very far. This saddle isn’t made for two people.
The stag clomps through the lush green forest, right on the edge of a stony mountain range. These are the mountains our friend Tyadin spent basically all of his childhood. As half-dwarf, he’s short, stalky, and hairy, and he has an affinity for stone. It’s his magical element as well, which came in handy as our ally during the trials.
He’s likely the only other person in this entire magical world I trust. And to be honest, that trust only goes so far, even with Rev.
Raven. Raven, I trust entirely. But she’s in a whole different world now.
I let out a long breath, allowing myself to miss her. She was my light during my banishment to the human world. She was the only person to ever give me hope.
I know I was bad for her, but I can’t help but miss the way she looked at me. Like I was something prized. Something precious. Something to be cherished.
Never, not in my entire life, has anyone ever looked at me that way.
And I used her because I couldn’t bear to give it up. It almost got her killed.
Oh, actually no, it did get her killed. Rev just happened to bring her back to life, despite not even knowing who she was. He knew I cared, and he acted.
“What are you thinking about?” Rev asks.
I hold my breath for a moment. “Raven,” I breathe.
His shoulders tense. “Oh,” he says. “How is she?” His voice is low and slow. Like he’s being careful with his words. Like I’m an animal he may spook.
“I’m not sure. Safe, I think. That’s what matters.”
“Is... that what you were thinking about?” he asks, but I’m quiet for probably too long.
I’m not sure what he thinks about Raven. Our relationship was... complicated. “No. I was just thinking that I miss her. That I trust her.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“I do. But in a different sort of way.”
He nods slowly. “This part is going to get rocky,” he says, and at first, I think he’s talking about us or this conversation, but then I notice that we are turning onto a trail leading up into a rocky summit.
“Can Killian make it up that?”
“He was bread to be able to climb mountains. I chose him for a reason.”
I decide not to comment on that because anything I’d say would make me sound very ignorant. So, Rev has multiple steeds to choose from, does he? I hadn’t even thought about stags, or horses, or whatever other creatures fae use to travel on, to begin with. My family didn’t have mounts. We didn’t even have a bathroom inside our home.
Rev and I lived very different lives.
I am still technically fae royalty. I’m a countess—or I was before I was banished and disinherited. But in a court as poor as mine, being a count or countess is meaningless because we didn’t have the magical power to fuel an estate as elaborate as the one we owned. Instead, we left it to fall apart and lived in a small cottage in a little village near the Whisperwood.
Ironically, I could fuel that estate easil
y now. I could fuel the palace and much of the kingdom with the power the Night Bringer granted me. And earning that power got me banished from this world entirely.
Killian clomps up the mountain as Rev and I rock and sway awkwardly. I grip his waist tighter, and his hand falls to my knee, steadying me.
Now, my heart pounds for another reason.
We climb a few hundred feet before the path evens out and our vision clears from indistinguishable rock walls to a huge valley and a castle set in between two mountains. I wouldn’t have ever found this place on my own.
The castle isn’t overly large, but it does appear quite luxurious from what I can see. It is made of smooth grey stone with white marble braided into the pattern. A lovely mixture of dark and light. A symbol of the fae and dwarf alliance this court is known for, perhaps? The spires reach up high, each with a winged gargoyle guarding it.
I find myself wondering if they’re simple decoration or real creatures that come to life when the moon rises. Either is possible. Gargoyles are very much real, but their likeness is also imitated often enough.
We reach a wide cavern with one narrow line of stone crossing it and a short, stalky guard in full armor blocking it. That can’t possibly be a bridge, could it? We slow to a casual walk as we approach the guard.
“State your name and purpose!” his voice booms before we reach him.
Rev pulls his stag to a stop still a dozen feet away. “Prince Reveln of the Luminescent Court. I am here to see Tyadin Ironhammer. I believe he’s expecting me.”
The guard’s eyes narrow, and he lifts his chin. “Password.”
“Orb of Terrors.”
I blink as the guard steps aside. “Why the Orb of Terrors? And I hadn’t realized he was expecting us.”
Rev doesn’t respond immediately and urges his mount ahead.
I hop from the stag before we pass over the narrow passage because I trust my own balance way more than Rev’s golden war stag.
“Scared?” Rev teases.
“Ha ha.” Also, hell yeah, I am.
Curse of Thorns (Wicked Fae Book 2) Page 4