by Everly Frost
“How are these formed?”
“Mathilda created them from dark magic,” Nathaniel says. “They’re only partially living. But they serve an important purpose—hiding Null from the King’s eyes. Even with all of his dark magic, all he sees here is a wilderness of Mathilda’s making.”
Halfway along, he stops Flare, ties his reins to a new set of vines, and passes me the water flask to take a drink.
“We need to dye your hair before we go any farther. I’ll get the sap.”
“How do you know this will work?” I ask, looking for a place to sit down before I give up and simply kneel on the ground.
He grins at me. “Many women travel out here to the edge of the Bitter Patch to dye their hair with this sap. Even my mother did. It makes their hair glossy. I suspect Mathilda might have added some extra color to the plants once she saw what they were being used for.”
“She cares about your people.”
He nods. “She’s not what you expected.”
“Not what I imagined a witch would be like.”
“Mathilda is never predictable.” He takes a vial from his satchel, borrows one of my daggers to pierce a vine, and then squeezes the sap into the bottle until it’s full. “That should do it.”
Returning to me, he kneels behind me and gently eases the scarf off my head, loosening my hair before he pours some sap onto the scarf and uses it to work the liquid through my hair. The sap is surprisingly light, not goopy, and the sweet smell fills my senses. I close my eyes as he takes care around my face, making sure he covers every strand of white all the way to the ends. Luckily, my armor is black, so any drips won’t matter. The movement of his fingers through my hair is soothing in the extreme, so much that my shoulders relax, my thoughts drift, and I find myself falling asleep.
Dark stars, how does he do that?
I normally can’t sleep unless I’m lying in complete darkness surrounded by an empty space—or as empty as I can make it. I give myself a shake and open my eyes to find him kneeling in front of me. His palm brushes my cheek, the contact making me glow across his hand.
His thumb grazes my jaw as if he’s coaxing me back to wakefulness. “Aura? Just a little farther and you can get some sleep, okay?”
“My hair’s finished?” Damn. I did fall asleep.
With a crooked smile, he hooks his hand through my locks and draws them over my shoulder so I can see the color—as black as my armor and shinier than my hair has ever been.
“It’s already dry,” he says. “I’m sorry I had to wake you.”
I cautiously run my fingers through my tresses, wary of getting sap all over my fingers, but it’s smooth and waterless. If it dries that fast, it’s not a surprise he couldn’t bring a bottle of the sap to the border.
His serious eyes meet mine as his arm descends to wind around my waist and pull me upward. “You seemed surprised yesterday when I told you that I knew who you are. But I need to warn you that every human knows your name.”
Surprise makes me jolt, but he seems ready for that, his arms closing more tightly around me. “The only identifying feature they would recognize is your hair. The other sign would be your glow. I wasn’t prepared for that, so I’ll need to find gloves for you somehow. Until then, we need to avoid touching each other in public once we enter Null.”
My peaceful moments of sleep are suddenly long gone. “How do they know so much about me?”
Nathaniel rubs my arms. “Do you remember how I said that sometimes family members follow their loved ones to the border?”
“You’re talking about the humans sick with the Ebon Rot who come to the border to die.”
Nathaniel nods. “Family members often watch from the safety of the mist. The Border Guards who were with you would call you by name. Sometimes, afterward, you would sit with the human’s body.”
I gasp. “I took off my mask afterward.”
“You did.”
“I wasn’t supposed to…” It was against the rules to remove my mask at the border, but the air is so dank there and I always struggled to breathe after I killed a Fell. I would wait until the Border Guards finished burying the body, and then I would sit by the grave, alone. At the time, I put my emotions down to my overwhelming anger. All my life, I blamed the humans for killing my parents.
Nathaniel reaches for my hair, wrapping his fingers around the strands, which are no longer white. “It’s hard to miss your hair in the dark.”
I’ve tried to apologize to him before, but now it feels even more important. “I can’t even begin to ask for your forgiveness—”
“Stop.” His determined gaze rakes over me. “You’re here. You’re not the only one who has sins to atone for. Let’s take it one step at a time.”
“What will your people do if they find out who I am?”
“They won’t stop until they kill you,” he says. “From now on, you are a Warrior of Luciana. That’s all anyone can know.”
I worry at my lip. “I don’t know anything about your mother. What if they ask questions—”
He gives me a small smile, his expression softening. “My mother was an intensely private person, dedicated to her duty. They won’t expect you to talk about her.”
He drops another surprisingly gentle kiss against my cheek, this time on the corner of my mouth, his lips hovering for a fleeting moment across mine before he withdraws.
“Okay,” I whisper, my lips tingling from the contact.
His arms slide away from my waist, but I lightly clasp his arm, trying to work some moisture into my mouth to ask for the answers I need. “Nathaniel?”
“Hmm?”
I’m suddenly acutely aware of every sensation across my skin—the pull of my armor, the slightly too-long sleeves, the pinch of my toes in my boots, the cool air across my exposed neck.
I whisper, “What is this between us?”
His arms return to my waist, but slowly this time, one hand stroking up my back to rest between my shoulder blades. Once again, my armor stops me from feeling the full impact of his touch, and I fight the urge to press against his hand so I can sense the contours of his fingers and how they fit to the space beneath my shoulder blade.
Giving me every opportunity to pull away or tell him to stop, he slowly lowers his lips to mine, but his kiss is a mere whisper of sensation, a tiny breath of air, before he breaks the contact.
“What does it feel like to you?” he asks, a quiet rumble.
I open my eyes. “Like the Law of Champions doesn’t exist. Like we aren’t enemies.”
“We aren’t enemies.” His quiet declaration sounds so sure. His gaze shifts across my face, tracing the symbol and following the curve of my cheeks before his focus lowers to my lips. “We could be much more to each other.” He pauses. “If you want.”
“I…” His hands stroke my back, soothing, irritating strokes, because they don’t come close to easing the tumult of heat and emotion building inside me. My mind tells me to be logical. The Law stands. One of us will die. But my heart is expanding, opening to the possibility that Nathaniel and I can be more than Fell and fae. And my body… dark stars… my body remembers what a single kiss did to me last night.
“Yes,” I say.
“Yes?” The small crease in his forehead eases, the slight tension around his mouth fades, and the dark flecks in his chestnut brown eyes seem lighter despite our scarlet and black surroundings. The weight of uncertainty seems to lift off him, but it only settles down on me.
My smile slips, but his arms tighten around me, as if he reads all of the doubts suddenly crowding into my mind.
“Don’t rethink it, Aura,” he murmurs. “Don’t second-guess what this is.”
“The Law—”
“We have two days to defeat it. To find a way for us both to survive. We will reach the end of this alive. Both of us.”
“You really believe that?” I ask, searching his eyes for any doubt, any lie.
“I do.”
Sudde
n shivers strike through me. He’s like the rock that supports a waterfall, standing despite the torrent raging around him. So certain. So sure. While I feel like a ragged reed of grass caught up in the downpour, twisting and turning. Bound to crash.
He bends his head to kiss the top curve of my lip. Then the other corner. Each touch fleeting. His hand slips to mine as he gives me a mysterious smile. “Come and meet my people.”
Taking Flare’s reins, he leads him along behind us.
Flare nudges my lower back with his soft nose, demanding attention. I rub his nose for a moment before I allow Nathaniel to lead me onward.
The tunnel slowly bends to the left until we reach another wash of vines and charcoal leaves. This blockage appears so thick that it looks impossible to cut through.
“Null is through here,” Nathaniel says.
Knowing we can’t touch skin on skin from here on out, I draw my hand from his. He will be able to touch my arms, which are covered with armor, but his arms are bare, so I’ll have to be careful I don’t reach for him.
He adjusts the pelt around my shoulders while I hesitate in front of the wall of vines. Expanding my senses, I try to detect what lies behind it, but my instincts are frustratingly silent. I can’t sense any movement beyond the leaves, not any sound or hint of any living creature. All I feel is Nathaniel’s presence, stronger than ever.
“I can’t sense anything,” I say.
“Mathilda’s magic protects everything behind this veil,” he says. “Many lives would be at stake if Cyrian ever found this place.” His expression is open, hiding nothing. “Come and see for yourself.”
Swallowing, I nod my agreement.
Nathaniel reaches into the wash of greenery to pull back the vines. I catch sight of a green field and many moving shapes beyond us before he pauses, turning to me again.
He frowns awkwardly before he casts me a smile that lights up his eyes with rare humor. “You should know before we go in—they’re going to think we’re married.”
“What? Why?” My shrill questions are drowned in the rush of sound as he curls his hand around my lower bicep and draws me through the opening.
I quickly discover that the real barrier is not the foliage, but rather a magical shield that hums as I step through it. The magic feels like air across my face, a soft breeze. As soon as I pass beyond it, I’m assailed with sound so sudden that my senses spin.
A large, green courtyard fills the space in front of us, its nearest edge as far as fifty paces away.
Humans stand in neat rows around the courtyard—maybe forty of them. They’re all dressed in beige pants and shirts, and they’re practicing a series of combat exercises. I recognize the maneuvers from my own training—a series of defensive moves that build strength and stamina and can be practiced without an opponent.
The humans yell in unison at the end of each quick segment of the exercise, their unified shouts punching the air like a drum.
A village spreads out behind them with more green fields visible beyond that. The Bitter Patch extends all around the perimeter as far as I can see. Despite the gray sky, the scenery is more alive, more vibrant than any part of Fell country that I’ve observed so far.
“Nathaniel… What is this place?”
He takes a deep breath, his chest expanding, as if he’s testing his ability to speak. He exhales a sound of relief. “I can finally tell you everything.”
His smile becomes serious and his hand tightens on my arm. He spreads his free arm out at the men and women gathered on the grassy courtyard. “This is where I’m building an army to overthrow the King.”
Chapter 9
The warriors shout in unison as my mind churns.
A human army to kill the King.
There hasn’t been a human army since the last battle. Since I annihilated it, to be precise. Nathaniel told me that King Cyrian uses his hunters to keep the people under control. If Cyrian had tried to build another army, Imatra would have raged across Fell country to cut him—and his soldiers—down. I would have led the charge.
But here… this place… the spells cast around it protect it from detection—from both Cyrian and Imatra.
The humans don’t seem to have spotted us yet. They’re far enough away that our black clothing will allow us to blend in to the thorny backdrop, but I’m not sure what sort of reception we’ll receive once they become aware of our presence.
At the head of the rows of warriors, a tall, blonde woman stands with her back to us. She’s also dressed in beige clothing that fits to her curves as she strides along the first row, stopping to speak directly with a dark-haired woman in the first row, guiding the brunette’s movements until she perfects the maneuver.
“Where do I fit into this?” I ask Nathaniel.
“You’re a Warrior of Luciana,” he says. “I went to find you and bring you out of hiding so you would help us.”
“That’s your story.” I give him a pointed look. “But where do I really fit into all of this?”
He’s quiet as he observes the humans in the distance. “We need your light, Aura. King Cyrian’s dark magic is a thousand times stronger than Mathilda’s and his malice is worse still. My people have been searching for a light in the darkness for a long time.” Pain crosses his features, but he rolls his shoulders as if he’s trying to shake it off. “We need you.”
He just finished warning me that if I reveal my true identity, the humans will hunt me down and kill me. Using my power will definitely give me away. “Assuming I’m willing to join your fight, how do I use my power when revealing it will get me killed?”
The corner of his mouth hitches up into a brief smile. “Because we can call it dark magic.” He arches his eyebrows at me. “Who knows what Luciana taught you before she died?”
I frown at him, feeling a bit in awe of this woman I never met. “Your mother seems to have a legendary reputation.”
“In life and in death,” he says. “My people loved her.”
A shout rises up in the distance. One of the trainees—the brunette whose technique was being corrected—points in our direction.
“Nathaniel!” She breaks away from the others and runs toward us, causing the blonde to spin in our direction too.
Nathaniel’s worried frown disappears. He breaks into a grin as the brunette sprints across the distance, her brown hair flying out behind her. Her hair tie flies off, but she doesn’t seem to care. “Nathaniel’s back!”
Behind her, Nathaniel’s name is shouted over and over and the formation breaks up in a chaotic ripple. All of the trainees peel away from their rows and run toward us.
I stand my ground as they approach, taking slow, calming breaths. I tell myself I’m a Warrior of Luciana. Supposedly. I just have to remember the new rules: Don’t touch Nathaniel, don’t use my power, forget my real name.
Damn! I didn’t ask Nathaniel what name I should use—and it’s too late now.
The brunette hits us first, colliding with Nathaniel so fast that she nearly knocks him over. I’m not surprised when he merely scoops her up, a deep laugh bursting from him. She hugs him tightly, her hair flying around her. From a distance, she looked older but up close, I realize she can’t be more than fourteen. She’s so familiar with him that I wonder if she’s family.
The others reach us, crowding around Nathaniel, grinning wildly. The brunette releases him so the other women can hug him while the men clap him on the back. My eyes grow wide at the affection they show each other, greeting Nathaniel like a brother while he responds as if they’re all family, hugging them back. It’s a far warmer reception than fae show each other. Even my brother, Evander, rarely hugs me.
A sudden sharp pain pricks my chest right where my scar is. Moving slowly so I don’t attract attention, I press my hand to the location of my heart, easing the heel of my palm against it. It’s the second time in the space of an hour that my heart has hurt. The first was when Mathilda used her power to try to see into my thoughts.
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nbsp; “Dark stars, Nathaniel,” the brunette says, her eyes glistening. “You were gone so long. We thought something had happened to you.”
He drags her into another hug. “Emily,” he says in an admonishing tone. “It would take more than a few mold moths and a couple of wolves to kill me.”
I’ve never heard Nathaniel lie, but he sidesteps the truth far more easily than I expected him to.
Nathaniel sets Emily back on the ground when the crowd separates to allow the blonde woman through. Up close, she’s older than Nathaniel—but maybe only by a few years—and startlingly beautiful. Her golden hair flows past her shoulders all the way to her narrow waist and her eyes are cornflower blue. Combined with high cheekbones and a delicate chin, she is as graceful as a fae, but she wears an expression that reminds me of the most determined fae warrior.
Her smile grows wider as she leans in to kiss Nathaniel on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re back. We were worried.”
Yesterday, Nathaniel told me that some human women are more beautiful than Bright Ones. Even this woman’s voice is like honey.
“Esther,” he says, his tone slightly more reserved than it was with the others. “There were some complications, but we’re fine.”
He glances past Esther, searching the faces of the people around him. “Where’s Christiana?”
“She went looking for you,” Esther replies. “She’s not with you?”
The first hint of worry crosses Nathaniel’s expression. “When did she leave?”
“At dawn this morning.” Esther places her hand on Nathaniel’s arm, her tone soothing. “Don’t worry. Your sister knows how to look after herself. She’ll be back soon. I’m sure of it.”