by Bekah Harris
Finally, Nan smiled, opened her eyes, and pulled a pocket knife from her bag.
“Is the tree in agreement?”
Nan gave her a look. “Yes, as a matter of fact, and there’s no need to be a smartass.”
As gently as she could, Nan cut into the trunk, making sure to get the inner layer, which is what held the medicinal properties, and began stripping the bark.
“And to answer your questions about Samhain, your duties as Mage require your presence at the revel and the bonfire. Just like Halloween, Samhain is believed to be a time when the spirits of the dead can cross the veil and commune with loved-ones. You simply have to use your magic to draw them. From what I gathered during my time in Faerie, blood is the key. I imagine it’s no different with the Laltogs. They will use their own blood to call upon their ancestors. You will simply be the link to the NetherRealm. Think of your magic as a magnet. You’ll release your energy, and the blood will draw them to you.
“Great,” Felicity said. “Can’t wait to be a conduit for the dead.”
She forgot sometimes that Nan had been taken to Faerie to use against Queen Ivy, another Seelie royal her grandmother had raised in the human realm. Poor Nan. Like Raven, she had been dragged into the supernatural world through no fault of her own. Now, she was set apart in the human realm, but she didn’t belong in Faerie, either. But in Lost Cove, she seemed to be thriving.
The snapping of a tree branch pulled Felicity from her thoughts. She whirled around, facing the direction of the noise. Though she couldn’t detect anyone, she knew better than to believe she was safe, especially after what Tristen had told her on the way to school. The wind picked up speed, tearing through the trees, the branches and leaves rattling like bones. She continued to scan the forest, her heart pounding.
Suddenly, Nan gasped behind her.
When she turned, Kyla and Elder Conlan were nearly nose to nose with Nan. Energy hummed beneath Felicity’s skin. Reaching out, Felicity grasped Nan’s arm, pulling her away from them.
“You think you can protect your granny,” Kyla said. “That’s too cute.”
Kyla’s eyes flashed from black to red for only an instant. Her white blond hair dangled over each shoulder in pigtails, giving the sharp lines of her face a childlike appearance that made her look kind of like one of those creepy dolls from a horror movie. Beside her, Elder Conlan zeroed-in on Felicity with an intensity that reminded her of how still a leopard was before it leapt onto its prey and tore it to shreds. He was lethal but beautiful, like all the Laltogs, and he made Felicity wonder if he looked anything like Lucifer before he fell.
Felicity swallowed back the fear that threatened to choke her and raised her chin. “How may I help you two today?” she asked. “It’s not every day I get a chance to be of service to the former princess and the first elder. Perhaps a love potion? Or maybe a salve for dry skin?”
Smirking, Kyla stepped forward, bringing her face so close to hers that for a moment, Felicity thought she might kiss her—which definitely would have been a first. But then, Kyla dipped her nose to Felicity’s skin, breathing her in.
Sniffing her.
Felicity stumbled back one step and then another, careful to keep Nan behind her. She straightened her spine, refusing to show fear.
“I’m not a fucking steak,” she snapped, “so back off.”
Rolling her head, Kyla bared her fangs and then made a low noise in the back of her throat that could only be likened to an angry cat.
“Did you just hiss at me?”
“Felicity, tread carefully,” Nan whispered.
“You would be wise to listen to your granny,” Elder Conlan said. “However, Kyla has always been rather ill-tempered. We came here to warn you.”
“To warn me of what?” Felicity asked.
“To warn you that you may be the Mage for now,” Kyla said, a slow smile exposing her fangs again, “but Fhaescratch can’t protect you without betraying the trust of his coven. And you possess the most tempting blood any of us has ever encountered. Well, most any of us.”
“So what? Is this your way of telling me it’s open season on the Seelie Mage?” Felicity asked, ignoring the jab. “Just speak your mind. I lack the time and interest to decode your cryptic little warnings.”
Kyla hissed again. Apparently, she didn’t like Felicity’s tone.
“It means that you’d better watch your back—and so should your friends.” She prowled toward Felicity like a starving cat, her eyes feral. She leaned in, her breath tickling Felicity’s ear. “It’s only the blood, you know. Now that he has tasted you, he can’t stay away. Nothing more.”
Felicity stood her ground, magic buzzing through her limbs with the close proximity of two powerful Laltogs. Kyla’s words threatened to anger her, but she pushed the feeling away, trying to stay in control. It was as if the most instinctive urges were responding to the threat of her natural enemy. She tried to stay calm, sliding her eyes to Elder Conlan.
“And how about you?” she asked. “Anything to add to Kyla’s description of my eminent doom?”
His laughter echoed through the trees. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that, but I can smell your fear. I know it would taste divine.”
“Back off, Count Orlok,” Felicity said. “I mean, could you be any creepier?”
“Oh, you haven’t seen creepy, Sweetling,” he whispered. He pulled back his gums to reveal the longest set of fangs she’d ever seen on any Laltog other than Fhaescratch.
She tried to suppress a shudder as he stepped closer to her, stopping beside Kyla. They were so close, Felicity would have no other choice but to use her magic against them if they tried to harm her or Nan. There would be no time to run or scream for help, and they were nearly a mile from the village. Elder Conlan was no longer looking at her face. He was staring at her neck. The realization caused her pulse to pound in her ears, the sound of it like ocean waves. He licked his lips, his eyes flashing red.
“Nan, go back to the cottage,” Felicity whispered. “Go.”
They could kill Felicity, but as a Seelie Fae, they couldn’t turn her into a Laltog. But they could turn Nan. Fear swam through her body, bringing a surge of adrenaline with it. She gave her grandmother a gentle nudge.
“Oh, please do,” Kyla said, smiling. “I love to play chase.”
Suddenly, there was a rush of wind that sent Felicity’s hair tangling in front of her face, blinding her. When she pushed her hair out of her eyes, Tristen had appeared out of nowhere, skidding to a stop in front of her.
Relief rushed over Felicity like cool water, and she released the broken breath.
Kyla burst into maniacal giggles. “My Prince, why am I not surprised to see you here?”
Elder Conlan bent into a shallow bow, while Kyla gave a mocking curtsy.
Without acknowledging her comment or their insult, Tristen turned to Felicity. “Dr. Shelton sent me to find you. He needs your advice for an alternative pain medicine for one of his patients who is unable to tolerate the medicines available at the clinic.”
“Felicity can help me,” Nan whispered, clearly shaken.
“Very well,” Tristen said. “I’ll escort you since it’s nearly dark.”
Then, he faced his fiancé. “Kyla, Elder Conlan, shouldn’t you be preparing for Evening Feast? You wouldn’t want to miss your rations.”
“Oh, that would be a shame indeed,” Kyla said, her eyes flickering to red and intensifying to a deep crimson. “Don’t linger too long with the Mage, or you shall miss your own. Unless of course, you’re supplementing.”
Tristen dipped his head, acknowledging her “concern.” He waited until Kyla and Elder Conlan returned the gesture and faded until they disappeared altogether.
Chapter 8
Tristen was trying to remain calm, but he doubted he was fooling Felicity or Nan. He had lost control the moment Kyla and Elder Conlan had faded back to the castle, and he knew his eyes were a deep scarlet. Gums throbbing, he fought the urge to hiss, to protect wh
at was…
Mine.
No. Felicity wasn’t his.
She couldn’t be.
That was the worst part of his entire reaction. He was feeling...whatever this was...for someone off limits, even for him. Laltogs were possessive by nature. It’s what drove Kyla to jealousy. She certainly didn’t love him. But what Tristen felt for Felicity...it was different. Stronger. Ever since that morning in the library, he had felt that kind of possessiveness whenever he was near her. And despite what his father said, it was more than just the blood. It had to be. He craved her without a doubt. The thought of tasting her was enough to undo him, but he could control himself, detach his feelings from the hunger. It was Felicity herself that he craved even more than her blood. Each morning since she had surprised him in the hallway of Prosperity High School, he had awakened, wondering what she would do or say next.
Mine.
He felt the pull toward her now, just as strong as it had been the night she was attacked by the human boys. He needed to protect her, even though the threat was gone. Even though she could protect herself.
“Are you all right?” Felicity asked.
He might have laughed if it weren’t so ironic.
Getting a hold of himself, he straightened and turned toward her, trying to tame the rage in his eyes. “You just faced down two of the scariest Laltogs in the supernatural world, and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”
Felicity shrugged, but she was jittery. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally freaked out right now, and I think Nan is speechless, but you look like you’re getting ready to murder something.”
“Forgive me,” Tristen said, clenching his fists. “I didn’t know if I would reach you in time. Elder Breanna approached me with a question, and I lost track of you and Lucinda. Had I been a moment later…”
“Your fiancé and her pasty-ass sidekick would have made a meal out of us?” Felicity propped her hand on her hip, her expression twisting. “I would’ve blasted them to the next realm if they’d made a move toward Nan. Damn the consequences.”
“The elders will execute you if you use your magic against the Laltogs,” he said. “Especially so soon after being brought here. No one trusts you, Felicity. Please tell me you realize how serious this is.”
She gave him an even stare but didn’t respond otherwise. Tristen was having a hard time distinguishing whether Felicity was really that reckless and courageous or if it was just bravado for the sake of seeming strong. He offered his arm to Nan for help. Felicity’s grandmother wrung her hands, seemingly lost in thought.
“Why are they targeting Felicity?” Nan asked.
Tristen’s eyes automatically met Felicity’s, and he knew she was recalling the same thing he was: the morning Kyla had caught them in the library a few weeks ago, Tristen’s fangs buried in Felicity’s throat.
Nan unleashed an exasperated sigh. “Other than your behavior in the library.”
“You told her?” Tristen blurted before he could stop himself. He wasn’t easily shocked, but he was now.
“She tells me everything,” Nan said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand.
“Well, almost everything,” Felicity said. “I might have left out some of the finer details.”
“Hell’s bells, Felicity, were you safe? Please tell me you were safe!”
“God, Nan, just stop,” she said. “It didn’t go that far. That’s so not what I meant.”
“Oh, thank God,” Nan whispered, clutching her chest. “Okay. Okay. Everything’s under control.”
Tristen stared at them, unsure of how to respond. His parents were King Fhaescratch and Queen Rowena—and he had always loved them, but at a distance. He could never confide in them like Felicity confided in her grandmother. Everything he confessed, no matter how personal, could be used—even by his own parents—for their political gain. They’d already betrayed him to lure Felicity to Lost Cove, and they were capable of far worse. Needless to say, Tristen had accumulated a lot of secrets over the years.
“So, back to the point,” Nan said. “What does your future bride and the head elder want with my granddaughter?”
The answer was simple, really. But the complexity beneath that simple answer would take hours to explain. “Kyla wants revenge against me and my parents, and Elder Conlan wants Felicity’s blood.”
“This isn’t making me feel any better,” Nan said. “Felicity’s father and Fhaescratch have made a vow. If anyone harms her, Fhaescratch will die.”
“Yes,” Tristen said.
“I think that’s kind of the point, Nan,” Felicity added.
Nan closed her eyes, tilting her head back as if to compose herself. Instead of responding, though, she simply nodded, like she understood the backbiting politics of their world perfectly. Felicity had said Nan had spent time in Faerie, so maybe she did understand.
“Do we need to go to Dr. Shelton’s, or was that a lie to get rid of Elizabeth of Bathory and Count Orlok?” Felicity asked.
Tristen’s lips twitched at the nicknames. “Dr. Shelton has gone home for the night, but he did put in a request to see you tomorrow.”
“So, it wasn’t a complete lie?” Felicity asked.
“A half-truth,” Tristen amended.
Her full lips widened into an amused smile, and their gazes connected. Tristen’s heart thudded inside his chest, saliva flooding his mouth as he recalled her rich taste, sweet, spicy and metallic like the finest mulled wine. His gums throbbed, and heat rushed through his cool body, making him feel feverish. His life would be much simpler if he could only feel that way about Kyla. But he never had, and he never would. When Felicity’s heart was pounding loud enough for him to hear, his eyes slid instinctively to the pulse in her throat, which jumped in perfect rhythm, promising pleasure and power that would leave him drunk for hours. He had never wanted anyone so badly.
Mine.
He ripped his eyes from her throat to stare at the ground.
“I’d better walk you both back to the cottage for the evening,” Tristen said, “unless you still need more...what is it you’re doing out here?”
“Slippery elm,” Nan said, looking awkwardly away from both of them. “I have enough bark for what I need. And Felicity has work to do for the Samhain revel.”
“And how is that going?” he asked.
“It’s not,” Felicity groaned. “Not yet, at least.”
She tipped her head back with a dramatic flourish, raising her chin to the sky as she grumbled something about lost souls and creepy spirits. But Tristen wasn’t focused on her words. He was admiring the way her pearl-like skin stretched over her throat, the blue veins snaking just beneath. He bit his lower lip to stop himself from reaching out to graze her gorgeous neck.
Remembering his propriety, Tristen cleared his throat, offering his arm to Felicity and Nan, escorting one on each side back through the forest.
Kyla and Elder Conlan hadn’t wasted any time, and they hadn’t been overly careful with their actions, which wasn’t a good sign for Fhaescratch.
As he walked back toward the village with Felicity and Nan, Tristen wondered just how much support Kyla had in Lost Cove and if his father was underestimating her ability to slaughter them all and reclaim what was once King Erroll’s.
After Evening Feast, Tristen sat in front of the bookcase inside his father’s study, waiting on Luca to finish dining with his family. Fhaescratch paced behind the desk, and Rowena stood at the window, gazing out at the village nestled in the valley below the castle. Anguis uncoiled from his master’s desk and slithered down the side, disappearing in the shadows beneath.
“They approached her in broad daylight,” Fhaescratch was saying. “It’s bold, even for Elder Conlan.”
“This is what I’ve been trying to tell you, Father.” Tristen pressed the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. “I think there is something we’re missing. Why the sudden boldness? Why the sudden confidence? It has to be more than the allure of Felicity’
s blood and Kyla’s jealousy.”
“They are using the Mage to discredit your father,” his mother said, still staring out the window. She folded her arms, not bothering to face them as she spoke. “If they corner the Mage, making her fear for her life or the lives of those she cares for, she will use her magic against them.”
“But, Rowena, she could quite easily kill them,” Fhaescratch argued. “They have nothing to gain if they’re dead.”
Tristen waited, as his father stopped moving and watched Rowena expectantly. Finally, she turned from the window, laughing.
“Don’t you see? They do not believe the Seelie girl will actually kill them. They think they will come out on the other side of this and then blame you for their injuries. You thoroughly vetted the Mage, and you brought a Seelie Fae into our Realm, therefore endangering everyone in Lost Cove. If they have enough support, they could rally every Laltog and human in our ranks to overthrow you. Or they could goad her into a fight and plead self-defense when they injure or kill her, thus activating the curse of your Incorruptible Vow with King Barrett. This is a power play. This is their end game.”
Tristen rose from the chair, no longer able to sit still. “So, what do we do? How do we keep them from destroying all you’ve built?”
Fhaescratch sat down behind his desk and steepled his fingers. “There is the option of calling them out for their threats against the Mage, which poses a huge risk. If the council of Elders does not care that they threatened a Seelie Fae, even one who is serving as Mage, they will receive little more than reduced rations and perhaps a day or two in the dungeons.”
“What else can we do?” Tristen asked. The more they discussed the issue, the more impossible it seemed to avoid an insurrection.
“We turn the tables,” Fhaescratch said. “We use the vow to our advantage. With Felicity, I brokered peace and safety in our realm. As long as Felicity is safe and well cared for, King Barrett will not interfere with our lives or bring harm to us. For the first time since Lost Cove was established, we have a peace treaty of sorts. That gives us more freedom to live as we choose. How many Laltogs and humans are willing to sacrifice the safety of their families and the comfort of the lives they’ve established here to place Kyla on the throne and risk war with Faerie?”