Marlowe arrived next to her and began to press towels around the blade. Then she put her hand around the hilt to pull it out. When Nik’s hand caught her wrist, the blacksmith could have killed him with the look she shot.
“He’ll start bleeding uncontrollably as soon as you remove that,” Nik explained.
“We can’t leave it in there!” she cried.
Jakon was too quiet. Faythe looked at him. He was so pale she would have mistaken him for dead if his eyes didn’t flutter. He released a moan of pain.
“You are not going to die tonight, Jakon Kilnight. Do you hear me?” she said firmly.
He didn’t respond, and her panic surged. She looked to Nik for command as if he’d know what to do, but his face was grave. He knew there was no coming back from a wound like this on a mortal man, and the dawning of that realization snapped something in her.
“Do something!” she shouted.
“Faythe, I…” He didn’t finish what she knew he was going to say.
There was nothing to be done.
Just then, a faint beacon of hope lit from a flash of memory. Faythe’s eyes widened, and her head whipped up. She turned to Marlowe.
“Listen to me. You keep him alive. Keep him awake and stifle the bleeding as much as you can until I come back,” she spoke with controlled calm.
Marlowe nodded with a sob and fixed herself over Jakon, pressing more towels to his wound. Faythe didn’t waste a breath, whirling to the cabinets behind her and throwing everything out of her way until she found what she was looking for.
“Faythe, what are you doing?” Nik asked.
She didn’t pay him any attention, couldn’t waste a single second, as she grabbed the small bottle and hurled herself out of the hut and into the streets without another word. She didn’t care that her white dress was now stained crimson or what the occasional passerby would make of the ghastly sight as she raced past. She hauled her skirts up to mid-thigh and sprinted as fast as her legs could carry her, the burning in her lungs disappearing in her targeted focus.
Faythe took a route she knew would have the least stragglers from the celebrations and flew up the hills. She didn’t pause for a single second when she reached the woods. Branches clawed at her ankles as she darted through it, but she never registered any pain. When the waterfall clearing came into view, she breathed a sigh of relief and fell to her knees at the water’s edge.
It was a huge gamble and one that could cost her the last moments at her best friend’s side, but she had to try—even though Nik’s words haunted her the whole way.
“They say they can heal any mortal wound, but I’ve never been able to bottle them.”
She prayed to every Spirit and God in the realm and promised to worship them for the rest of her miserable life as she uncorked the bottle and plunged it into the lake. Ice doused her when she pulled the bottle out. It was just plain, clear water…no glowing yucolites. She tried again and again, but still, the container collected none.
“Please!” she cried skyward. She began to sob as she kept sinking the bottle in, trying to catch them, but they mocked her by darting away every time.
“Faythe.”
A woman’s voice, like an echo from a shadow, sounded around her. She turned and beheld the mighty white stag at her side. Instead of being struck with fear, she whimpered in frustration. She didn’t need another stupid tour to the temple; she needed the yucolites.
But the stag did not beckon her this time and instead walked closer—so close Faythe got to her feet in fright that she was about to be trampled.
“What is it you come for?”
It seemed to say the words as she looked into its eyes. She blinked for a second, and in her desperation, she replied, “My friend—he’s dying. I need…I need these.” She pointed to the glowing orbs in the lake.
“There is no give without take, Faythe.”
“I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Be careful what you say.”
“Please!” was all she could cry. She had no time to play this game.
“You will have to return something that was once stolen from here,” it said. “It dwells now within the palace of High Farrow. The Light Temple ruin.”
Faythe didn’t have a second to spare or she would have laughed at the impossible task. “I will.”
“If you do not, your soul will belong to my woods for all eternity.”
“I said I’ll do it!” she yelled. Every second that passed was a second closer to Jakon’s heart stopping.
“Then the bargain is struck.”
She couldn’t contain her gasp as she felt a sharp tug within her—a chain that anchored her to this place and would remain until she fulfilled her end of the deal.
Not wasting another breath, Faythe dropped to her knees and dunked her bottle into the water once more. When she pulled it back out, a whimper of relief came from her at the dozens of yucolites that now floated within.
“Thank you.” She pushed to her feet and began sprinting back the way she came. She thought she heard faintly, just as she met the tree line…
“I shall see you again soon, Heir of Marvellas.”
Chapter 35
Faythe exploded through the hut door, nearly taking it off its hinges. She was panting raggedly from her flat-out round-trip sprint but didn’t let the pain in her throat register as she rushed over to Jakon’s side. He was still breathing—barely, but it was enough.
“You caught them?” Nik said in disbelief.
She ignored him. “When I say I want you to pull the dagger out…” she commanded Marlowe, who sobbed but nodded, bracing her hands around the blade. “Nik, I need you to be ready to apply pressure with a towel immediately,” Faythe ordered.
He didn’t say anything and braced himself with a cloth, ready to tame the immediate blood flow.
She felt a hand weakly curl around her wrist, and her eyes met Jakon’s tired gaze. Pain laced his eyes, but she couldn’t let it break her in that moment. He needed her.
She cupped his face and leaned down to say, “You’re going to be okay, but this is going to hurt.”
He managed a slight nod, and then his head went limp to the side, eyes closing, as his fingers left her wrist to dangle over the table.
Faythe went cold. “Now, Marlowe!”
To her credit, Marlowe didn’t hesitate for a second, and Nik was right there applying the necessary pressure when blood started to pour. Faythe couldn’t be too late. She yanked the cork off the bottle and, as precisely as she could with her trembling hand, poured the liquid over the deep gash.
Straight away, the yucolites came together as one over the wound and formed a glowing seal. The blood dramatically ceased but still fell slightly while the light magick did its healing work.
The three of them stepped back to watch in awe, but then Faythe lunged forward to examine Jakon’s face. She felt for a pulse and recoiled in world-shattering horror when she couldn’t find one. Marlowe sobbed loudly again and fell back against the cabinets as Faythe went rigid in shock.
“Give it a moment to work,” Nik said softly.
Faythe met his eyes as if it would calm her, and it did. His waves of comfort smoothed the edges of her sharp panic. It relaxed her enough that she was able to go back to Jakon. She grabbed his limp hand in hers and stroked his hair while she waited in painstaking agony for him to take a breath.
The seconds felt like hours, and she focused on his mind as best she could without his eyes to open the doors, coaxing him to come back.
“You can’t leave me, Jakon. I won’t survive it,” she said into his empty mind.
Silent tears fell down her cheeks when she didn’t hear anything in there. It was dark and hollow. She was too late, and now she would pay the ultimate price. Her worst fear was coming true: Not only could she not protect those she loved, but she was responsible for bringing perilous danger right to them.
Just as she began to spiral into a bottomless pit of guilt a
nd grief, she caught the echoes of a faint voice.
“I won’t ever leave you, Faythe.”
She sucked in a sharp breath at Jakon’s mental response—so quiet she thought she imagined it in her desperation. But his chest started a low rise and fall again. She let go of that breath in relief.
Marlowe shot over. “Thank the Spirits,” she sobbed.
After a few more tense seconds, Jakon groaned. His eyes flickered open. He blinked a few times before he turned to look at Faythe, and a small noise came from her.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He gave her hand a weak squeeze.
“It seems not,” she said quietly, a smile tugging at her lips.
Marlowe came up beside her, and she smiled at her friend, moving out of the way so she could take the spot. The deep wound on Jakon’s stomach still glowed, and she had no idea how long it would take for the yucolites to fully heal him—if they could.
She ran her hands over her face and breathed her first relaxed breath in what felt like a lifetime. Nik was right in front of her, and she couldn’t stop herself as she fell into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He held her tightly. She closed her eyes in silent solace as the events and reality finally caught up with her.
None of them would have made it out of that alley alive if Nik hadn’t showed. He’d taken out all four men in less than a minute. They wouldn’t have got Jakon here if it weren’t for Nik either. He grounded them—was the calming source—when it mattered most.
“Thank you.”
She projected the words to him and hoped he heard through his walls.
“There’s nothing to thank me for, Faythe. You saved him.”
“I’m also the reason he almost died.”
Something in her cracked at the truth. This was all her fault.
Nik’s arms gripped her shoulders, pulling her back to look at him.
“Walk with me?”
She looked at her friends. Marlowe stood over Jakon, gently stroking his hair while he fell asleep. Faythe’s eyes darted to his chest in a spear of panic, but it eased when she noted the steady rise and fall.
Walking over, she put an arm around Marlowe in quiet comfort. “I won’t be gone long,” she said quietly.
Marlowe looked at her and then at Nik and gave a small nod, returning her focus to Jakon wordlessly.
Faythe looked down at herself. Her white gown was stained with Jakon’s blood, and it turned her stomach. She excused herself to quickly change and then went to the washroom to scrub her hands at least. A full-body wash would have to wait.
She threw on her black cloak and emerged, checking Jakon over one final time. Assessing that he was in good hands, with the yucolites still working their magick, she followed Nik out into the night.
They walked in silence for a few streets until they turned into a narrow, dimly lit alley.
Nik stopped to turn to her. When he didn’t immediately speak, she did.
“How did you know where to find me tonight?”
It wasn’t an accusatory question, but she noted he had a good sense of where and when to find her and rarely offered any explanation. Though he was at the equinox ball, it was too much of a coincidence for him to be passing in their moment of dire need when she’d left him long before the fatal confrontation.
He stayed quiet for a moment, brow creasing in deliberation. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you ever since you started fighting in The Cave,” he spoke at last.
Her mouth opened in shock. She was about to ask how he knew about it, but he continued.
“I looked into that foul beast’s mind that first night. I saw the look he gave you, and my assumptions were right. He was never going to let it go.”
Faythe stayed silent—out of bewilderment or awe, she wasn’t sure.
“The more men you fought… Gods, Faythe, you were only adding more to his army each time. He didn’t know who you were—not really. I still don’t know how he figured it out. None of them knew, and I’ve been tracking them since in case they did.”
Faythe was in disbelief. All this time, he had been protecting her, and she hadn’t realized. She’d been so caught up in the money and victory she was ignorant to the growing danger she’d amounted against herself, which ultimately fell on her friends too.
“Why?” was all she could muster in response.
She didn’t deserve it. Her friends, Nik—everyone was hurt because of her, and her worst fear was coming true. She couldn’t protect anyone, and instead could only rain danger upon them.
He stepped closer, and she angrily swiped a stray tear that fell. She gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to cry anymore and felt her rage and guilt rising to the surface in that self-destructing way it always did. As if sensing it, Nik’s rough fingers curled tenderly under her chin, and he gently guided her head up to meet his eye.
“This is not your fault, Faythe. It was spiteful, vengeful human men who have nothing else to live for. You won against them, fair and square,” he said fiercely. “And you put on quite an impressive show, by the way.” He gave her a weak smile in an attempt to lift her spirits, and damn him, she could love him for trying.
They stared at each other in earnest silence for a long moment, and then he released her. She almost whimpered at the absence of his touch, but he didn’t step back.
“You’ve been in my head enough times. I think it’s only fair you let me in yours just this once,” he said quietly; carefully.
Her heart skipped a beat. “I’m thinking…” She swore internally. Then she cursed the world, cursed the Spirits, cursed everything that made them such an unsuitable match in every way. “Screw the damn consequences.” She pushed up on her toes, hands going to the back of his neck. Then his mouth met hers, and the stars awoke, chasing away the darkness that had started to engulf her.
Nik’s hands glided across her waist in response, leaving trails of fire where he touched. She was about to pull back, only needing to kiss him once to know she wasn’t alone in her feelings, but his grip tightened, pulling her flush against his body as if he knew her intention. She didn’t object. Instead, she leaned in further, arching her back and feeling like she could never be close enough to him. Their lips moved together passionately, almost desperately, every impulse and desire that had been mounting since the day they met pouring out of her and into that kiss. Her fingers wove through the silk of his jet-black hair, savoring the luxurious feel. She was all too aware of his own hands exploring her waist and back, making her body ripple with impulsive lust.
Faythe didn’t realize they had moved until her back met the coolness of the wall behind. He leaned into her this time, trapping her between two forces of safety. His hands left her waist to cup her face, and she whimpered at the loving tenderness of his hold.
Then, just as she thought she might explode with ecstasy, he pulled out of the kiss. She almost cried. But he stayed close, resting his forehead against hers, and for the first time, Nik looked almost as short of breath as she was.
Faythe chuckled softly, and he brought his head back to look at her.
“Should I ask what amuses you?”
Her eyes danced with delight. “I guess it doesn’t take much to make you breathless after all.”
He huffed a laugh, and Faythe’s heart fluttered at the sight of him. He looked happy in a way she’d not seen him before. It lit a small beacon in her among all the negative emotions. Knowing she could make him happy—it might just be her salvation.
Chapter 36
Jakon was still pale and clammy, but he was breathing, and it was a steady, even rhythm as Faythe monitored each rise and fall of his chest from her seat beside him. Marlowe tenderly cleaned the wound that still glowed from the magick of the yucolites. She had not asked Faythe about them, and Faythe wasn’t sure how she would explain it or their unexpected savior in the form of a fae guard.
Nik had left her at Jakon’s side an hour ago. He had no reason to be here when he woke up, and Faythe
wasn’t ready to explain him to her friends yet.
When Jakon stirred, Faythe was on her feet in an instant, scanning his face. With a weak tilt, he turned his head, and his eyes fluttered open. After a few blinks, he went to sit up, but Faythe held his shoulder.
“Just a bit longer,” she said quietly.
He looked at her then, brow creasing in confusion. It took a moment, but she knew the events of the night had caught up with him when his eyes widened in horror.
“Are you hurt?” His voice was hoarse. He studied her over, and then Marlowe.
“No, but…you were, Jak. I’m so sorry.” Faythe’s lip wobbled.
He propped himself on his elbows against Faythe’s protests and beheld the glowing line on his abdomen. It was clean of blood and had almost finished sealing as the yucolites began to dim.
His eyes were wide as saucers. “How?” was all he managed.
“I’ll explain everything.”
She would have to. It scared the rutting damn out of her, but there would be no more secrets between any of them. She would find a way to live with their judgment of what she was and what she had kept from them these past months because her friends deserved to know. She had endangered their lives with her secrets and would rather face eternity alone than let them risk their lives in her web of lies again.
“Can you move? I think we should all try to get some sleep,” Faythe said, exhausted both mentally and physically.
He nodded, and with Marlowe and Faythe’s help, they managed to shuffle into the bedroom and set him down in his bed.
Faythe loaned Marlowe some nightclothes when she insisted she wasn’t going anywhere while Jakon was still in recovery. The two women squeezed themselves into the cot beside him, and Faythe let herself fall into beckoning oblivion knowing she and her friends were safely asleep.
An Heir Comes to Rise Page 24