by Faith Ellis
Wasn't that just this morning? In that kitchen, our feelings had exploded. Our love. And then Aiden had run off so quickly. To where? And for what? Why couldn't he have stayed here with me?
My stomach's grumbling gets the better of me, and I turn off my calming water earlier than I like. Grabbing a plush towel, I dry off and pull out some nightclothes from the large wardrobe drawers in the bedroom. There is a cute, silky blush-colored nightdress outlined with
creamy lace. I slip it on and pull a clean robe over top that was lying on the bed. My hair is damp, but I am too worried about filling my belly to be concerned by my appearance.
Even after my shower, Aiden still isn't back. Malor has already showered in the downstairs guest bath- room. We curl up by the fire in the main room, eating fruit, drinking wine, and laughing. Fresh pillows are piled on the floor that we found in one of the closets, directly in front of the dancing fire.
Situated against the pillows and each other, lips red from the wine, Malor breaks the silence. "Let me catch you up on everything you missed.”
I giggle at his enthusiasm.
"I couldn't believe when Aiden first told me his plans with you. I knew you'd never have agreed if you'd known. But I'll admit, I respected his swiftness to shield you. And then when he talked about his need to keep an eye on you there and protect you, it sounded crazy."
"I am just surprised he shared it with you." I take an- other sip of my wine. It warms me, and my limbs feel lighter.
He grins. "Yeah, well, apparently during the time you two had together, you shared a lot about me."
I snuggle against his arm. "You're my best friend, Mal. Of course I did!"
"I tried to prepare things here, but you came back sooner than we expected. And things went to shit rather fast anyways. I'm really glad you're back though,
Annie." His voice softens, and he clears his throat. "Even if we die, I'm honored to die by your side." He raises his glass.
Looking into his eyes, I see a tinge of fear he usually hides behind his cocky facade. With me, he can let that down and show me a glimpse at what he truly feels. It breaks my heart. This shouldn't be the way of things. Malor should have years—centuries—by my side as my guard, leading my armies. Not planning on going out like this. The sacrifice he's willing to make—how can I stand by and allow it?
I swallow the lump in my throat and raise my own glass. "Till death do us part, my dear friend." I drain my wine, and Malor refills the empty goblet.
"To living in love and fighting for the same." A soft tinkling sounds as our glasses kiss. The mix of emo- tions, a full belly, and too much faery wine makes me drowsy. I snuggle up closer to Malor's arms, and his wings wrap around us, cocooning us, and soon we are both fast asleep by the fire.
Chapter 11 Aiden
I can't get the image out of my head of Andryad's excitement and pure joy as she held Malor and he held her back. I might never have the bond with her that he has, and I hate myself for the pang of envy stinging my insides. Not to mention what might have been if the male's timing hadn't been so horrible in the kitchen.
The Forbidden Forest between the two courts sits under a cloak of pure darkness tonight. It is always dark within, no matter what takes place outside of its perimeter. It has its own time and place, with its own rules. Tonight, it sits eerily quiet and still. The only sound is the rare crunch of my hooves on the spread of dry leaves. How clumsy of me for even making that amount of noise.
But I am unfocused.
She's on my mind, and it is interfering with my pri- orities.
Ever since I reconnected with her, there has been this constant pull between us, like a string with one end tied to each of us, and the string is taut and con- tinues to grow more so, pulling us closer. I am not sure what exactly that is, but I ache for more of her. Her touch, her kiss. We have never gone further than that,
a kiss. But I so desperately want her in every way. I want to see her and feel her soft skin, as smooth as silk, beneath my fingers. I am consumed with the need for it.
It takes every ounce of my energy to conceal my aura of emotions so that she does not see my desire. I want so badly to touch her, and the instant she wrapped her legs around her best friend, I felt my fa- cade crack just a little, but neither of them noticed as they stood there. Cradling each other in what some would say was a lover's embrace. I guess they are lovers, in a way. Not in a sexual or romantic sense, but they have such a strong affection for one another. They always have.
A bird caws overhead, and I hunch closer to the ground, waiting. A warning for someone or something. Tonight is a not a night for chances, and I carefully scout the area for anything that might be a threat. Call it overly cautious; call it paranoid. But I am not about to risk Andryad's safety. After a few heartbeats of si- lence, I push on.
Malor is, always has been, her best friend. As if they were brother and sister divided at birth. I am happy she has that person for her, yet envy burns a black hole in my heart that that person is not me. I know her love for me is there, but I can never compete with what they have. She keeps her aura of emotions under a tight lock and key, never relinquishing even a glim- mer of what she is feeling. How is she so good at that?
But the tension is there for her just as much as for me. The time apart has clearly not erased our love.
We kissed, I remember. I felt her passion, her love.
Her want and need for more than a simple kiss in the kitchen burned a bright pink around her. The only time she lowered the barriers of her aura and let me in.
You're being ridiculous.
Maybe a few hours of her fighting and practicing with Malor would be good for both of us. I had to get away, or I would lose control. I hate being near her but craving all of her. I am losing it. Like I am a starving an- imal. If I had stayed in that house, so close to her, for much longer, I would have grabbed her and hauled her ass up the stairs. Without protest from her, of course. I would have laid her softly onto that large bed, our bed. And for the first time, I would have undressed her. Taking my time, admiring her flawless body. Touching and kissing every inch of her beautiful skin… I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, trying to calm my heat- ing blood.
I left the two of them to practice and stormed out to see what I could pick up within Faeryland. A phouka never shares his skin unless he trusts wholeheartedly. Andryad knows she has my soul. She is the only one who knows I am the monstrous black horse. Three times the size of a Clydesdale with a hazy mane rimmed in smoke. Even my own mother doesn't know. Fae don’t learn they are phouka until their midthirties, and by that age, I was well aware to withhold some in- formation from Queen Mable.
I shake my mane, loosening a leaf that falls and tries to tangle itself in the dark, soft hairs. If Queen Mable knew who I was, she wouldn't be standing so freely within her gardens, unbothered by the beautiful giant creature grazing a mere acre away. The grass is chilly, cool on my tongue with a light sweetness that reminds me of spun sugar—airy and subtle. Strange, it normally tastes acidic and bitter.
Nothing seems to scare the queen. Even if she knew who the horse truly was, would she remain unboth- ered, keep walking around with her court, picking out flowers for another one of her parties?
Appearances are everything to her, and she can't trust the decorators to do the job on their own. She glances at me a couple of times, admiring another one of Nature's beauties. A dark magnificent creature, watching her.
The castle is heavily guarded, more than usual. Malor is right. They have caught word that Andryad is back in Faeryland. My thick hooves drag over the fields, imprinting large traces into the soft soil. My eyes scan the circumference of the castle. Warriors from both the First and Second Courts line the walls. Some light-skinned Second Court members are posi- tioned feet away from the darker-skinned First Court members, the former standing steady against the chill of the court while the latter shiver, unused to the cold.
I am about to turn for home when a smooth voice soun
ds behind me, stopping me dead.
"It took you long enough, but I knew you'd show." Queen Mable steps around to stand in front of me, her ruby lips curved deviously into a smile. "A mother knows her own child, Aiden. Let's not act coy. I have a favor to ask."
Dread curls in the pit of my stomach as I shift from phouka to my fae form and face my mother.
When I walk through the door, back in my fae form, the air signifies they were drinking the wine. The strong, sweet aroma still lingers the way smoke clings to clothes. The fire burns low in the main room, illu- minating their sleeping silhouettes in a faint glow as they snuggle against each other, a mountain of pillows beneath them on the thick rug. My heart tightens in my chest with envy and happiness for her. No matter what, I always want her to be happy first. But seeing them so close makes my chest constrict with the ache to be near her even more.
I creep through the dim room, trying not to disturb them as I find my way to the kitchen. Andryad's cheek rests against Malor's shoulder, his wings draped around her. Her face is so still it reminds me of a doll, perfect and angelic. My body aches, heavy with exhaustion as I enter the kitchen to find something a little stronger than faery wine. Looking at those two, there probably isn't a drop of wine left in this realm.
The moonlight spills in through the large window, drowning the room in a silver luminosity. I pull a bottle of faery liquor out of the cabinet and pour a glass. The amber liquid glows like sap, and a spicy aroma
floats up, sticking to the back of my throat. The bottle remains uncapped as I situate myself on one of the stools at the island.
I feel her presence before I hear her come into the room. Her scent is strong, vanilla mixed with the sweetness of wine seeping through her pores. The tempo of my pulse increases rapidly as she moves nearer, and warmth radiates off her as she sits beside me. Her eyes watch the glass in my hand as the liquid swirls, but she does not say a word. Her hair is slightly tousled from sleep, the straight silver locks sticking out in places, and her face is pale with fatigue.
"Malor was right," I tell her through the glimmer of crystal as I bring the glass to my lips and take a deep drink. It burns my throat going down, and I wince. "The Second Court is heavily armed, and she walks around as if there's no fear in her." I scoff and down the drink to the bottom of the glass, welcoming the heat it fills me with.
Andryad is silent for a long time. Those beautiful blue eyes slide my way, and she puts her hand over mine, allowing her fingers to curl into my palm. The touch ignites something in me, and I struggle to con- trol my aura. For a moment, I just look at her delicate hand over my own, how much smaller hers is in com- parison. Her skin is so pale and smooth, shimmering against the natural light the moon spills in through the glass. Desire burns within me. I turn to face my beloved, and she stares right back at me, vulnerably
showing me her aura, a beautiful fiery red for the pas- sion and desire she feels in return.
"I don't understand the ambiance that surrounds me," she admits.
My lips twist into a smile. "The aura. It showcases a fae's feelings."
"I can control it. Is that natural?"
"Yes, fae can consciously choose to show that and expose themselves in that way, but you are really good at it."
Her eyes look down at our hands. "Aiden I—" Her voice is thick with something, some emotion that I cannot decipher or see.
I move nearer to her and put my hands to her face, tangling them in her hair. It feels like a stream of rib- bons slipping between my fingers, smooth and free. She doesn't pull away, even as I lean in. Her breathing tickles my face as I inch closer, tentative at first, slowly grazing my lips over hers. They are soft and sweet like the wine she drank. The kiss turns into a desperate need for more of her. Unsure if she wants me to con- tinue, I pull back a little.
Her lips bloom with color. She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls herself harder against me. Her mouth finds mine again, and our tongues dance together inside of our mouths. Moans, the most beau- tiful sounds I have ever heard, escape her throat as her hands roam through my hair, tugging gently, and down my back, gripping against me. My hold tightens around her waist, digging my fingertips into her hips. The crav-
ing for her to be even closer, to meld into me and make our bodies one, consumes me. Heat explodes through- out my body, and blood pounds loudly in my ears as I allow my aura to glow bright red and radiate my desire and need, though I know she already feels that need the moment she pulls herself onto my lap.
When we break apart, both gasping for air, her eyes burn bright with yearning, mouth swollen from the frenzy of our kiss. For the longest moment, we stay like this, holding each other, catching our breath, and looking into one another's eyes. I want her so bad in this moment. As I have wanted her from the first time we met. But I feel it in my soul that tonight isn't the night. Tonight is the night to simply enjoy having each other back. To feel how much she loves me. Tonight, we are simply remembering past memories and relish- ing in our dreams that there will be opportunities to build new ones.
"I'm scared." Her voice is a whisper, soft as a feather floating on a thin breeze. I lift her chin with one finger, searching her face for that fear she admits but hides so well.
"I can't say I'm not. It's hard to not be afraid of something when you cannot be certain of the out- come," I admit.
"Do you think we even stand a chance against her? She has protection, decades of experience with her powers… What if we haven't really thought this through?"
"Are you saying you don't want to try? That we stay in hiding and leave the other Folk to her wrath?" My intentions aren't to question her loyalty to her Folk; I truly need to know what it is she wants. "Because if that's what you want, I do understand. But I need to know otherwise. If we walk into this situation and you aren't fully determined to do anything, I'm afraid I will lose you." Her head falls to one side as those clear blue eyes slide back to me.
"I will do anything to at least try to save my Folk. That is what I want. I give you my word on this. I just want to understand, from your experience. You know her better—do we have a chance?" My fingers drop as I inhale. The liquor has made my head lighter, more comfortable. It loosens my limbs.
"Together, we have a chance." She nods once to me before we fall into a comfortable silence.
Chapter 12 Andryad
The shiny gold floor leads to a red-and-gold plush throne. Large white columns, their tops capped with gold, line freshly painted walls on both sides of the room. Three-tiered chandeliers hang heavy from the white ceiling, golden designs painted where their chains appear through the plaster. In between each set of columns sits a large floor-to-ceiling window, at one of which stands a silver-haired woman in an elaborate black gown—a queen version of myself.
Branches stick up from the thin straps of my gown, leaving the rest of my pale arms bare. The gown dips low, baring a small scar at my throat where an opal once was, and leaves outline the top trim of my dress. My middrift is bare save for a single branch covered in leaves connecting from the left side of the top to my right hip, where a skirt starts and falls, trailing be- hind me on the floor. The sides are completely sheer, with leaves piled in a front and back panel. A crown of branches rests high on my head.
A sovereign looking out of my palace over acres of meticulously tended gardens. The sun peeks in, and I
turn my face closer to it, inviting it to warm my skin. That face—it is mine, but in a way I have never seen myself: full of regality and authority I haven't yet had the chance to perfect, but here I look absolutely well versed in those areas.
My queen self turns away from the window, sharp sounds clicking against the smooth floor as my heels tap toward the throne. My allure is enthralling as I sit, adjusting my posture. The fabric of my ensemble swishes and sighs in unison.
Another set of heels, lighter than my own, chink quickly as a young male strolls into the room and to- ward the seated queen. His black leathers are sleek, and a long b
lack cape is clasped together with a sun emblem near his throat—a warrior. He bows low a few feet in front of the throne.
"Report." Even my voice drips with the confidence of a leader.
The warriorrises to respond. "Your Majesty, your fire continues to consume the land of the Second Court. Those who have escaped are being hunted down and are being killed on sight as ordered."
My queen-self nods appreciatively while my pre- sent mind swirls with thoughts. Did she—did I—re- quest a kill order on those of the Second Court?
"Also, there is a concern," he adds. "Out with it, then."
"Your Majesty, some of the First Court are…talking. Many do not stand behind the progress with the Sec-
ond Court; they claim it goes against your vision as queen, and there are rumors of a rebellion."
My queen self sits up straighter, fingertips digging into the arms of the throne. "Very well, we cannot have that, can we? Get word on who these gossipers are. They will burn." Fire shines behind those clear blue eyes. My veins glow red beneath my skin as it crawls out and shoots through, dancing on my fingertips.
I wake up with a jolt, clawing at my arms and exam- ining my hands.
A dream.
A snoring Malor sleeps beside me.
Just a dream.
I inhale the cool air deeply. It pierces my lungs. I sit up slowly, trying not to wake my friend as I shift out from under his intricate wing.
After last night's intense kiss with Aiden, he walked me back to Malor's side and left me while he went to the room upstairs. Part of me wanted to go with him. We both knew the other's feelings. But could I be with him while I knew there was a possibility it might not last?