Faythe found Marlowe’s energy wonderfully contagious as she chatted in depth about her creations and blacksmithing experiments among other things. She was two years older than Faythe and had found intrigue in her father’s craft since she was a young girl. Her mother had passed from the same sickness that swept the town and took Jakon’s parents thirteen years ago. It was one tragedy the duo had in common, and even though Faythe had lost her mother by different means, she still connected with them on their level of grief.
When the blacksmith wasn’t working, the beauty seemed to never stop using her brain. She had a deep passion for reading and knowledge, and Faythe perked at the mention of her interest in swordplay too. She was excited to get into the sparring ring with her sometime.
They approached the beautifully lit Harbor Hall overlooking the sea—one of the prime spots in Farrowhold’s outer town. Faythe and Jakon had only been a handful of times, usually on occasions such as birthdays when they’d saved a few extra coin, but they had been careful with their spending recently, and she knew they could afford to eat a nice meal tonight.
Pushing through the small white wooden doors, Faythe was immediately hit with the delicious scent of fresh seafood and breathed in deeply. It was moderately busy in the large, ambient space, mostly filled with couples seated in the intimate booths. The three of them were warmly greeted and guided to a small four-seater table in the corner. Faythe tried not to think of herself as a third wheel when she took a seat next to Marlowe and let Jakon sit opposite her. It was a subtle tactic on her part for them to engage eye contact and conversation.
Faythe tried her best to stay engrossed in idle chatter with her friends, but her head was elsewhere, and she bounced her knee in an anxious tic while checking her pocket watch every ten minutes. Marlowe seemed to notice and kept shooting her knowing looks.
The food came, and it took Faythe’s mind off the time for a while as she savored the delights of hot and cold seafood fresh from that day. But when they’d finished and the clock closed in on nine, she cleared her throat and made a show of trying to cover her wide yawn.
“I think I’m going to head back. I’m really tired,” she said. Not a full lie—she certainly was exhausted, and Jakon would realize exactly why thanks to her epic display that morning.
He gave her a nod of understanding and said, “Of course. I’ll get the bill—”
“Don’t let me ruin your night,” she cut in a little too quickly, shooting Marlowe a glance for help. “I mean, it’s still really early after all,” she recovered.
Marlowe chimed in casually, “They have great desserts here.” She smiled sweetly at Jakon. “If you’d like to stay.”
Faythe had to give her credit: even she could be tempted to stay with the look the blacksmith gave him. “Natural flirt” could be added to her new friend’s list of fine traits.
Jakon’s cheeks flushed, and he smiled back nervously. It amused Faythe immensely to see her best friend so flustered. She had never witnessed this side to him in their decade of friendship. She’d never actually seen him take an interest in anyone. Like Faythe, Jakon had never committed to a serious relationship before.
“I…I would—but, uh, Faythe…” he stumbled.
Faythe waved a hand. “I’ll be fine, you big worrywart. Stay out for as long as you’d like and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She fastened her cloak before she stood, reaching into her pocket and placing a few coins on the table despite both of their protests. Then she swiftly left the establishment with a final good night.
She’d already hashed out some details with Marlowe on their trip back from the blacksmiths, so Faythe knew she would try to occupy him until at least midnight. Still, she had no clue how long Nik’s plan for the night would take and didn’t want to risk Jakon returning to an empty hut and sending out a search party.
Mercifully, Marlowe hadn’t asked what she planned to get up to, but at her few curious and concerned looks, Faythe had promised her it was nothing dangerous.
That was only a half-truth, however, as nothing with Nik seemed to be certain.
Chapter 11
Faythe pulled her hood up as she left Harbor Hall and made haste down the streets. She was already running late. In her hurry, she skidded to a halt around the next corner, nearly colliding with four fae patrol to her complete horror.
She stepped aside instantly and bowed her head low, not daring to make eye contact as she moved out of their path. She recognized the brute of a warrior leading the patrol from her quick glimpse. The unruly scar that marred the left of his face was a distinguishing feature, allowing her to single him out as one of the royal guards who had detained the innkeeper’s son with undue force.
Her breathing stilled as they halted beside her instead of marching past like they usually did. She kept her eyes to the ground, playing the part of the scared human girl so they might continue on without questioning her.
But one spoke. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” A deep, rough voice—one that sent a spear of ice through her.
“Home,” she said quietly, still not raising her head.
She heard the scuff of gravel before large black boots came into view on the ground right in front of her. She swallowed hard, her heart skipping a beat.
“You will look at me when you talk, girl,” he warned.
She didn’t move.
In a second, Faythe barely had time to blink when large, calloused fingers gripped her jaw, yanking her head up so fast she couldn’t hide her wince of pain. The guard gave her a vicious grin.
“Better,” he said.
She supposed he was handsome, beautiful even, despite the disfigurement. He had sharp facial features, with eyes of stark black and wavy brown hair that fell above his shoulders, half-tied back in a small knot. Yet as she held his stare, his feral eyes only delivered a promise of violence and despair to anyone who crossed him. She couldn’t mask her anger, forced to stare back in his viselike grip. Everything in Faythe screamed at her to run.
“What is your name?” he said in a playful calm.
She debated not answering, but at the guarantee of pain, she hissed, “Faythe,” while hoping her tone wouldn’t land her in the same trouble as her silence.
One of the others spoke quietly from behind. “She frequently trains in swordplay in the square, Captain. She’s harmless.”
The captain held her for a moment longer, contemplating, before releasing her with a grunt. She wanted to thank the young fae guard who spoke up for her.
Faythe winced, her jaw throbbing faintly from his unnaturally tight hold. She knew it would bruise.
His eyes flicked to the hilt of Lumarias before they pierced into her golden ones again. “A mighty blade for such a lowly human girl.” He chuckled mockingly, and her hands twitched at her sides in a flash of rage.
“It was a gift,” she said through her teeth.
His eyes narrowed on hers for a moment, and she didn’t balk. “Don’t give them a reason to look into you…” She dropped her eyes to the ground again in a silent bow of submission as Nik’s advice echoed through her.
With a disgruntled sound, the captain stepped away. “On your way then, girl,” he said, bored.
Faythe didn’t hesitate, twisting sharply and making off again in a brittle walk. She spied a dark alley, and once she turned the corner, she ran.
She sprinted the rest of the way, taking the darkest streets and running all the way up the hills until the woods came into view. She spotted Nik immediately. He leaned idly against one of the trees. Relief calmed her storm of nerves. She didn’t even realize she was shaking until she slowed her pace upon approach.
“You’re late,” he said, and then he took in the sight. “What in the damned Spirits happened?” Nik stormed up to her, scanning her body for signs of physical injury. “Who hurt you?” he snarled, catching her jaw, which still ached.
“The patrol.” She breathed hard, not knowing how to form the right sentence. “The
captain,” she added between pants, bracing her hands on her thighs as the exertion from the short journey caught up with her all at once.
Nik swore. “I thought I told you to keep a low profile.”
Faythe stared at him, incredulous. “I was keeping a low profile!” she snapped. “It’s not my fault your kind are just savage, ruthless beasts who will take any opportunity to show dominance and belittle us humans!” She shook out of anger more than fear now.
His lips thinned as his eyes softened. “That’s just Captain Varis.” He ran a hand through his jet-black hair. “He’s a wicked bastard and a sadist, but he’s one of the king’s most talented Nightwalkers. Don’t ever underestimate him.” His tone wasn’t scolding; it was laced with concern.
Her face blanched. It was just her luck a Nightwalker would find reason to stop her when she needed to be invisible now more than ever.
Reading her thoughts, Nik said, “You need to be able to understand your own abilities. Damn it, Faythe, it’s a wonder no one’s found out about you yet with your recklessness.”
She cringed and wanted to argue, but he continued.
“If you learn to control your ability, you won’t need to fear any of the others being in your head. You can block things you don’t want them to see and only give access to your completely ordinary life to keep them satisfied.”
Her head spun at the new information. Nik only motioned for her to follow as he stepped into the woods.
She hesitated. “Will I see…things again?” she asked quietly.
He shook his head and held out his hand. “No. You’ve already proven yourself.”
She looked at the offer of comfort in his outstretched palm and then to his eyes as he smiled in encouragement. Maybe it made her foolish and naïve, but she couldn’t help but trust him. The feeling unnerved her. He knew of the one thing that could condemn her and had so far chosen to help instead of turning her in. She wasn’t sure if that made him an ally, a friend, or if he was simply fueling his eternal curiosity. Whatever it was, she was grateful for it.
Faythe slipped her hand into his, and he led the way through the dark, veiled entrance. Afraid he would vanish and she would once again be alone, suffocated by dark mist and black vine webs, she didn’t realize the strength of her grip until he chuckled down at their joined hands. They’d made it through the perfectly ordinary woodland and into the waterfall clearing, and her knuckles had turned pale from her viselike grip.
She released him immediately, cheeks flaming.
Nik slung off his cloak and walked to the middle of the open space before laying it flat on the grass and sitting on it. Faythe watched with a frown and didn’t immediately follow until he wordlessly gestured for her to do the same.
“I take it this is part of your experiment?” she said, matter-of-fact, copying his actions.
He grinned in response before reaching into his pocket and producing two vials of liquid. “It’s just a simple sleeping tonic,” he said at her hopeful look. “It will put you under as you would fall asleep naturally, but your ability will still awaken your subconscious,” he explained.
“We’re going for a nap?”
He flicked her nose. “Smartass,” he muttered, handing one of the bottles to her. “I’m going to try to catch you in that space between before you launch yourself to Gods know where.”
She looked at him wide-eyed. “You’re going inside my head?”
He gave her a devious smile. “What dirty little secrets do you have to hide? You look so horrified, Faythe.”
She whacked his arm with a glare, and he barked a laugh.
“I’ll have to take mine first. It’ll be at least five minutes before it works. Once I’m out, you’ll take yours. I’ll be able to feel when you slip under, and, well…” He paused. “I’m not really sure if it’ll work, but it seems worth a try.”
Worry creased her forehead. “And if it doesn’t? What if I end up somewhere else?”
“I should still be able to enter your mind. You’ll feel me there, and I can hopefully coax you back, but—” Another one of those pauses she’d come to dread. “Well, it’s new territory. I don’t know if your ability works the same as ours.”
Faythe nodded. She knew he was referring to the fact she was a human.
Nik sighed. “We won’t know unless we test the theory.”
She supposed she had nothing to lose at this point. She had to get this under control, and if that meant letting Nik inside her head, she had to try.
“Just know,” he said, “I’m putting a lot of trust in you not attempting to kill me after I take this.” He popped the cork off the top of his vial, lifted it to hers in cheers, then took the whole dosage before discarding it beside him.
Faythe rolled her eyes and watched him lie back, his eyelids closing with a dramatic, relaxed sigh. She sat with her knees tucked up and studied the rise and fall of his chest for a couple of minutes.
For a moment, she was struck by his vulnerability. A full-grown warrior fae male lay perfectly at her mercy. Though he’d said it in humor, she felt a small burst of warmth that he really did trust her enough not to attempt anything. This would perhaps be her once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do so; the only time she would come face-to-face with a fae who was incapacitated enough for her to strike. Yet even if it were the malicious Captain Varis lying there unconscious before her, she was confident she would never take such a cheap and dishonorable blow.
When his breathing slowed and became heavier, she looked at her vial. Here goes nothing, she thought, tipping the contents down her throat and lying flat beside Nik. She turned her head to look at him, so peaceful and innocent, not a wrinkle or frown disturbing his smooth, pale skin. Handsome. Nik truly was a picture of immortal grace.
Her eyelids fluttered a few times as she felt herself drift away, and with it, her rising panic faded…
“Faythe,” a distant voice called.
She felt as if she was being projected one way but another force was tugging her in the opposite direction. She grabbed onto that phantom thread and pulled herself toward it, against the current that wanted to cast her into oblivion. It wasn’t long before she saw light piercing through the pitch-black void she was in and followed it all the way until it blinded her and she had to squint her eyes, blinking rapidly to adjust.
Then she was standing in an endless room of swirling gold and white mist. She was awake inside her own head. She could feel it; see it. The mist cleared around her to show a reel of memories that flashed from one to another. She saw memories from when she could barely walk, right up until this very day—her whole life, in perfect clarity.
She thought of one person in particular, and it stopped, playing in real time the memory of her mother not long before she was taken. They lay in bed together, her nine-year-old self tucked warmly under her mother’s arm as she read to her. Tears wet her face, and her lip quivered, but she made no sound as she walked closer to the moving picture. It stopped as she willed it on her mother’s face. Faythe reached out a hand to touch her, but it passed right through, and she sobbed once.
Suddenly aware of another presence, all the images around her faded instantly, leaving only clouds of white and gold. She turned her head to look at Nik, who stood silently behind her with his hands in his pockets. She supposed he had been there the whole time. His theory had worked, and she didn’t care what he saw before she blocked the memories out.
“My mother,” she whispered.
He gave a small nod. “I know,” he said. After a short, solemn silence, he continued, “I used to spend endless nights in my head when my mother passed. It’s different, seeing it in front of you like that. Over time, memories can become faded, and we forget the details. But in here…we can keep them alive.”
She gave him a sad smile, grateful he would share such a personal piece of information with her. She didn’t know he too had mourned a parent and suddenly felt guilty she knew very little about him at all while she was so selfis
hly wrapped up in her own problems. She wanted to ask when he’d lost her and what happened, but it didn’t feel right in the moment.
“I guess it worked,” she mused instead, trying to change the subject and lighten the somber mood.
He smiled, seeming glad for the switch. “I almost lost you for a second, but you had the good sense to follow my lead.” He looked around and made a curious sound.
She too observed the colors of her mind. “It looks like yours,” she said, “but less sulky and gloomy.”
He laughed. “Think of it as your aura. The colors reflect a part of you.”
She crossed her arms in amusement. “So what exactly does black say about your soul?”
He shrugged impassively. “Perhaps that I’m damned to the Netherworld,” he answered with a smirk.
She stuck a hand out to weave it through the mist. It sparkled, and she thought it beautiful as it entwined through her fingers. Wherever she moved, it followed, and she found she could bend it to her will without any movement, creating a small golden butterfly in the palm of her hand.
“You’ve really not seen the inside of your own subconscious before?” he questioned as he studied her.
Faythe shook her head. “I either dream—” She winced. “Nightwalk,” she corrected, “or I don’t remember seeing anything when I wake. But that’s rare, mostly. I guess all this time, I was exploring the townspeople when I slept.” She laughed a little, trying to find the humor to keep herself sane.
The butterfly took flight before dissipating into the rest of the mist.
Nik released a long breath. “Do you find yourself exhausted the next day? When you’ve been Nightwalking, I mean.”
She huffed. “I’d forgotten what a good night’s rest was like until the week you gave me those drops.”
He raised his eyebrows. “No wonder, Faythe. You’ve probably not had more than a couple hours’ proper rest in years.” At her look of confusion, he clarified, “When we Nightwalk, our mind is still active. If you spend a night in someone’s head, you’ve not really rested. It’s why we can’t do it every night—we’d wear ourselves out and become sloppy.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Gods, it’s a miracle you’ve kept it up for so long without going insane. But it also explains a lot about your lack of control.”
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