by Bree Verity
“Of course.“ Eldryth went to the back of the room and chose a bottle off the wall that held the living samples. She undid the top and beckoned Fenella over to have a sniff, which she did tentatively.
Essence of Virgin’s Tears swirled candy pink inside its container but smelled very much like highly salted water. When Fenella mentioned this to Eldryth, the older fae turned to her with a frown.
“Why of course it does,” she said. “It has been distilled, which means the salt will be stronger.” She noticed Fenella’s face, which wore a mask of disappointment. “What exactly did you think essence of virgin’s tears might smell like?”
Fenella colored. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe musk or flowers or something. Certainly, I didn’t expect it just to smell like distilled crying.”
“Oh, no, distilled crying is an entirely different thing. The difference, you see, comes from the fae themselves – if a fae is a virgin, their tears are not sullied by the dirt of lovemaking. The tears are very pale against the tongue but hold many special qualities within their mineral structure.”
Eldryth took the aura snipping from somewhere within her voluminous robes and lay it down on a microscope slide. Fenella helpfully provided two sticking plasters for the sides of the slide so the sample could not wriggle away.
Then, Eldryth took an eye dropper and dropped four drops of essence of virgin’s tears on the sample.
The virgin tears screamed. Fenella could not work out how they did it since they had no mouth or tongue, but they did, a shrill, eardrum shattering squeal. At the same time, the aura wriggled harder to get out of its microscope slide prison. Fenella was fascinated to see it turning even blacker – as black as the dust caked in the bottom of a char woman’s bucket, and even meaner as well. The scream of the tears quietened as it bubbled away into nothing against the surface of the aura.
Eldryth looked at the sample in astonishment. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a soul so black, have you Fenella?” She waved Fenella over to look at the sample through the eyepiece.
“No,” replied Fenella. And it was true. Admittedly she hadn’t seen many auras under the microscope, this one was horrible. Just by looking at it, Fenella felt the joy and happiness being sucked out of her being. “What’s wrong with it?”
“He’s one of the more dangerous of the human species,” replied Eldryth. “He’s a madman, without conscience, without the ability to love, but able to put on a façade of humanity.”
Fenella shivered, taking her eye from the glass, and feeling like the warmth had returned to her soul. “That doesn’t really surprise me at all,” she said, “from what I saw of him alongside the rest of the men at the gambling establishment. They wanted to get away from him.”
Eldryth nodded. “Even though they didn’t really know why they wanted to get away.”
“Yes.”
“So, what do I do? If I can’t appeal to his conscience, how can I get him to call off the wedding?”
“Trickery.”
Eldryth’s prompt answer surprised Fenella. “Trickery?”
“Yes. It’s the only way. You have to trick him into forgoing the engagement.”
“But he’s sneakier and more underhanded than I could ever be. How in the four planes of heaven and hell do I do that?”
Eldryth smiled. “Well, that’s up to you to decide. Come back to me when you have some ideas and we’ll talk them through.” She grimaced at the still wriggling piece of aura. “You may go. I’ll get rid of that thing.”
Fenella was happy to get out of the laboratory and back into the clean outside air. The aura had disturbed her, as had Eldryth’s description of the type of person Mr. Penny was. She knew that she needed to get Mary out of his clutches just as soon as possible, and safely married to her Sir Percival.
She wondered if Lachlan was around and walked to his office. He wasn’t there, so she made her way to his rooms, rapping smartly on the door.
He opened it and Fenella was surprised to find the usually clean-cut Lachlan in a state of disarray; his hair stuck up at odd angles and his blue eyes were bleary. Even his wings hung limp. “I just got home from creating a very long happily ever after,” he explained. “You can come in, but I’m going to have to go back to sleep.”
“Well that’s not going to help me much,” Fenella said. “I need to talk about things with you.”
Lachlan gave a sleepy smile. “I’m not your mentor anymore, Fen,” he said.
“No, but you’re someone I can bounce ideas off. Please,” she said as Lachlan hesitated. “I need you.”
Lachlan closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh, then lifted his obviously heavy lids. “Alright,” he said, “but just for a few minutes, okay? I really am exhausted.”
Fenella grinned and stepped past him into his rooms. They were of a similar shape and size to hers, only his were bright with white walls and pale timber highlights. The curtains were closed, but because they were gossamer fabrics and light colors, they did not block the light, only diffuse it.
The similarity in their rooms was the junk strewn everywhere. Different junk, to be sure; Fenella’s was wrought iron and onyx and heavy hardwood pieces, while Lachlan’s was artifacts of alabaster and ivory, gold filigree and delicate things. Both had plenty of books strewn about as well – Fenella’s about dark magic and the scourge of blackdark and soul magic, and Lachlan’s psychology of humans and manuals of light magic. It was as if, Fenella thought, they were the same, but just one black and one white. The thought made her smile.
Lachlan jumped back into his bed and pulled the sheets up to his neck. He patted alongside him in an invitation for Fenella to join him, which she did.
“Now,” he said, and as his eyelids closed Fenella smiled to see his long pale lashes resting against his cheeks, “what is this question that cannot wait even a few hours while I rest?”
“How do I trick Mr. Penny into giving up his engagement with Mary?”
“I gather that means your ‘just asking him’ didn’t go that well.”
“No, not really. He threw me out of his house.”
Lachlan’s lip curved into a smile. “Wish I’d been there for that.”
“I wish you had too,” replied Fenella. “Perhaps if there had been two of us, he may have been more amiable.”
“That wasn’t exactly what I meant,” murmured Lachlan.
Fenella narrowed her eyes at him, but it was of no use, his were already closed.
“We put his aura under the microscope.”
At this Lachlan opened his eyes. “What did it look like?”
“The blackest, meanest thing I have ever seen.”
“Even worse than you in full dark fae?”
She punched him in the arm. “I mean it, Lachlan. It was terrifying. It was like there was no humanity in the thing at all. And the screams from the virgin’s tears as they touched it was like something out of a horror story.”
Lachlan sat up on his elbows, interested. “I’ve heard of those, but never actually seen one. They call them... ‘psychopath’ in the books. No sense of right or wrong, and they like to inflict pain on others and can’t see how they are to blame for any of their actions.” He looked thoughtful. “I’d like to see this aura.”
“I’m pretty sure Eldryth has already turned it into ash,’ replied Fenella, and Lachlan lay back down.
“Shame,” he commented.
“Not really,” replied Fenella. “There is no way that thing should live for any longer than necessary – it was not meant for this world or any other.”
“Perhaps, but we still need to examine these things so we can better understand them,” argued Lachlan.
“Well, you go find your own psychopath to study,” retorted Fenella. “Right now, I need to work out how to get a young lady out of the clutches of this one. Eldryth suggested I come up with a few ideas and then come back to her – that’s why I need your help. I can’t think of anything that doesn’t involve pummelling him with
blackdark.”
Lachlan chuckled, his eyes closing again. “Yep, I can think of two arguments against that course of action before you go any further.”
“Only two? I can think of a dozen.”
“What else did Eldryth say?” Fenella could hear Lachlan’s voice growing thicker – he was going back to sleep.
“She said I’d need to engage in trickery.”
“Right.”
“But how exactly do you trick someone like that? How do you cheat an accomplished cheater?”
Her only response was Lachlan’s deep breathing. She glanced over at him with a small smile and shook her head. Leaning over him, she kissed his forehead then rolled on to her side and cuddled up beside him.
Perhaps a nap would do them both good.
Chapter Ten.
Waking up a couple of hours later, Fenella could smell beans roasting and her mouth started to water. Opening her eyes, she watched Lachlan, tall and wearing only trousers, fix the beans over a roasting plate, using his skill with air magic to keep the beans turning in the heat from the plate, gently crushing them to elicit maximum flavor, then adding in his water magic to mix them to the perfect consistency.
She smiled. She liked to see Lachlan like this, relaxed and comfortable in his own place, rather than stressed out by all the shenanigans she put him through. Really, he had been infinitely patient with her, and she appreciated that about him. As a mentor he had been prepared to give her free reign, only stepping in when things went terribly awry. It was unlike Eldryth, who wanted to know what Fenella was going to do before she did it. Which was difficult, because most of the time, Fenella was winging it. She smiled a little at the memories.
She watched his lithe figure as he moved about his tiny kitchen with grace and a burn started inside her, fluttering in her belly. It was insane, but she loved him. Unions between light and dark fae were fragile things, very often ending up in acrimonious breakup and deep divide between the two fae involved. Her own parent’s union was like that. She was certain her light fae father had been relieved when his dark fae wife had died, and she despised him for it. Yet here she was, in a relationship with a light fae herself.
Lachlan brought two cups of steaming liquid over to the bed, and Fenella scrambled to sit up so she could accept the one Lachlan held out to her. As usual, the beverage was smooth and nutty, and Fenella wished it was cooler so she could guzzle it down. As it was, she took a wincing sip, and put the mug down beside her on the table alongside the bed.
Lachlan placed his own drink on the table and stretched out beside her on the bed then turned on his side toward her, his sky-blue eyes darkening and his internal light switching on, a deep contented yellow white.
“I like seeing you there,” he said, and Fenella’s breath hitched as she caught the implications in his tone and the welcome in his eyes. She lay back down and faced him, and they moved together so their bodies were pressed close. The feel of his arm draped across her waist made her wings hum.
“I like being here,” Fenella whispered shyly, unable to hold his gaze so instead she stared at the little pulse in his throat and placed her hands on his chest. She didn’t even notice they were shaking until Lachlan lay his own hands over hers.
“There’s no need to be nervous, sweet one,” he said, his tone liquid.
Fenella nearly replied hotly that she was not, but before she could speak Lachlan had pressed a hard kiss to her lips, and any words that she was thinking of fled her mind, lost in the delicious electricity that started at their lips and that infused her whole body. She kissed him back, grazing her tongue along the sharp points of his teeth and the inside of his lips. She felt his groan deep in her belly.
“Why did we never do this before?” murmured Lachlan, working his way down her throat with tiny butterfly kisses that drove the rest of Fenella’s thoughts away. He gently pushed her on to her back and climbed over her, his lips never losing contact with her skin.
Fenella felt as if her entire body was on fire, every nerve ending responding to Lachlan’s caresses. Her wings, trapped underneath her, thrummed in time as she lifted her hips to bump against his, drawing another moan from him that only excited her further.
Fenella felt as if her feelings were bursting out of her heart in a rainbow of exquisite emotions. She wanted to surrender to him, to have him surrender to her. To twist their bodies together and take to the skies with nothing between them. To become one, in every sense of the word. To put her brand upon him, to fuse his soul to hers. And to have everybody know that this he-fae belonged to her and her alone.
“This is what you want? You’re sure?”
His eyes held passion and longing, but also seriousness and caring – he would still pull away if Fenella told him she was not ready.
But she was ready, and with her eager nod, she allowed herself to be lost to the feelings that had been building between them for months, feelings that, until now, they had been forbidden to share.
* * *
Later, afterward, Fenella leaned into Lachlan’s shoulder as they drank the coffee that Fenella had reheated with a little zap of fire magic and smiled shyly at each other over the tops of their mugs.
Fenella thought their mating had been the most magical thing she had ever felt. As a hot blooded dark fae she had coupled with other youngsters before, of course, but those fumblings didn’t compare with what she experienced at Lachlan’s hand. He seemed an experienced lover, marking her all over with his lips and teeth, and able to cool her hottest places without any words at all. She had physically shared her body before, but she had never actually mated – the potent coupling of body, soul, and spirit that she and Lachlan had willingly shared.
She didn’t have the words to explain how she felt, so she just stared at her love over the top of her mug and smiled as an excited shiver passed over her body.
Instantly, Lachlan was concerned. “Are you cold? Let me find you a blanket.”
“No, I’m fine. The shivers are from something else.”
He relaxed back. “Oh? What?”
“Just the perfectness of everything.” She turned her head to smile at him, to be rewarded with a tiny kiss. She snuggled back against his shoulder. “I wish we never had to leave.”
Lachlan laughed. “Me too,” he admitted, “still, there’s a mentor waiting for you to tell her how you are going to stop a psychopath, and I have a list a mile long of happily ever afters to get on the go, so only a few more minutes of this, okay?”
She pouted. “Way to destroy the mood,” she said in a grumpy tone, and Lachlan laughed again and kissed her temple.
She forced herself to think of Mary’s problem. “I bet there’s something I could do with blackdark to fix this,” she mused. “And it would be elegant and practical.”
She felt the scepticism ooze off Lachlan. “Or it would create all kinds of rifts and wounds between Earth and Byd Tal’m,” he said. “Please promise me you won’t do that.”
“I promise,” she said dutifully, but only because that was the same advice she had received from Nazryth when she suggested she use soul magic in her happily ever afters. The effects were just too unknown to take the risk.
“Fen,” started Lachlan uncertainly, and Fenella’s stomach dropped at his tone. She turned to look at him.
“I need you to promise me you’re not going to use your blackdark at all, if you can help it.”
Fenella started to shake her head, but Lachlan held up a hand. “I know there will be times when you can’t help it,” he said. “And if it’s saving lives, I have no problem with that, so long as you’re careful and secretive about it. But I think you should minimise it as much as you can.” He put a hand up and cupped her face. “I can’t bear to think of you locked up, Fen. Especially for something that, if you try, you can keep under control.”
Fenella frowned. She hadn’t told Lachlan about her additional blackdark training, and Nazryth had made it clear that she was not permitted to tell anyone a
bout Ravyn. Phineas had made her promise not to tell him. But now, things were different. She and Lachlan were mated. It felt wrong to hide anything at all from him – her most secret passions and desires, and the things she had learned she could accomplish with her soul magic.
Nor had she mentioned the feeling that working with blackdark gave her – it was exhilarating, that power, charging her like a lightning strike every time she stretched her skills a little further. Nazryth encouraged her to explore her limits, Lachlan wanted her to limit her powers.
She wanted to please Lachlyn, she really did. She knew, in the very depths of her soul that he was her future, her place of belonging. But if Lachlyn wanted her to limit her blackdark, she would have to say no to him. It was a part of her as much as his love was.
But right now, she didn’t wish to break the fragile beauty of the moment. So instead of giving him an answer, she smiled and said, “We can discuss that later, Lachlan,” which didn’t seem to satisfy him, but which, she could see he realised, gave him some space to discuss it further with her – she had not shut the conversation right down.
It was the best she could offer for the moment.
But she knew, for their relationship to work properly, she and Lachlan would have to come to some agreement on her blackdark. And right at the moment, she couldn’t quite see how they could be reconciled.
It threw a sour taste over all the afternoon’s delights.
Chapter Eleven.
“From what I can see,” Fenella said, “there are two things we need to do. First, we just tell him that Mary made a mistake and that she actually hates him. And if that has no effect, we move along to tricking him.”
Eldryth frowned, tapping her lower lip with her index finger. “So, you suggest you just go up to him, bold as brass, and tell him that Mary doesn’t love him.”
“Yes.”
“And what do you do when he punches you in the face?”
Fenella paused. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted. “I guess I tell him then run fast in the other direction?”