The Cursed Fae and a Fatal Mistake
Chapter One
Saoirse slammed her mug of ale down on the table and called for another.
“She’s got you beat. Give up before you fall over.”
The male seated across from her had turned a shade greener. He eyed the twin pair of mugs between them. Saoirse took hers and sat back, sipping at the foam. His eyes watered, then he pushed his mug away and raised both hands in the air. “I submit.”
A chorus of applause went up and another male slapped Saoirse across the back. Coins were exchanged and bouts of laugher filled the tavern.
She only smirked. “I warned you.”
The male burped and she scooted her chair back, just in case the dozen and a half tankards didn’t stay down. “You’re not Fae,” he accused. “You’re some creature created by the gods to make us lose money.”
Saoirse lifted her mug. “To a fabled existence, then.”
More laughter echoed behind her, then conversations resumed. Saoirse tilted her head back, enjoying the pleasant warmth flooding her body. She’d probably had a little too much, given the fact that she had a meeting with Alec and the elders at sunrise. He’d scold her, but what was life without a little fun? Saoirse crossed her boots and sipped from her mug again.
A voice drifted toward her, too loud for him to be sober. “I hear The Demon is headed back this way. Shall we set something up?”
Saoirse tilted her head toward the male. “Leave it alone, Vaz.”
The male’s golden hair fell over his face as he sat back in his chair. “Come on, you can’t honestly still feel sorry for him. I understood when he was a kid, but after everything he’s done just this past decade alone?” The male shook his head.
Another chimed in. “I’ve lost count of the kills. That male is on an absolute rampage, and no one wants to do anything about it.”
“Watch your tone,” Saoirse warned.
The male snapped his mouth shut, but Vaz wasn’t done. “He’s coming back from one hell of an assignment. He’ll be tired. He won’t expect it.”
“He will,” Saoirse countered. Her voice lowered. “He always does.” And gods, her heart ached to even think about it. Sure, he’d secured their borders, but the cost had been astronomical.
“You could join us. He won’t expect you .”
The buzz she’d been enjoying vanished entirely, eaten away by the adrenaline now coursing through her. Saoirse sat up slowly, set her mug on the table, then glared at her childhood friend. “Stay away from him.”
He didn’t back down. Vaz never did. Her second, Fin, intervened and clasped Vaz on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s not ruin the night already. I still need a few more drinks before you get us kicked out of yet another place with halfway decent alcohol.”
They’d been thrown out of five in the past two years.
Vaz loosed a sigh and leaned back in his seat. “All right, all right, call for another round. Saoirse can pay for it.”
She didn’t drink another drop, her gaze locked on Vaz for the rest of the evening. He never gave up on something that easily. The barkeep supplied bread, and Saoirse used tomorrow’s meeting as an excuse to sober up.
She chewed her lip. She’d probably have to follow Vaz home, just to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. She couldn’t lose Rion, but she didn’t want to lose Vaz, either. She’d lost enough friends as it was. Friends and her little brother’s companionship. She’d give anything if he’d just talk to her again. Play a game of chess. Go for a walk. Anything.
***
Night had fallen long before Rion made it back to the city. The forest was quiet. Peaceful. A welcome home. Mostly.
He marched straight through the main gate, keeping a trained eye on those who hid within the treetops in both their animal and Fae forms.
Most didn’t challenge him anymore. Not after he’d felled their comrades. Likely brothers and sisters. They’d all thought they could win.
They’d all been wrong.
These days, his magic never left his side. He was a constant brewing storm, which made most avoid his company.
It was a . . . secluded life. Occasionally, he’d crave conversation. Occasionally, he’d show up to a tavern with his hood up and magic nowhere to be seen. But he never lingered. Not when he knew how those males and females would react upon discovering who sat amongst them.
The four Fae stationed to guard Nàdair’s gate reached for their weapons. He smirked when he scented their magic and quickly squashed the seedlings that were answering their call.
It drew the guards up short, forced them to back away as he strode toward the city he called home. Such a strange word to label a place where everyone wanted you dead.
The streets were quiet, most having already retired for the night. A few drunks stumbled from taverns, bidding their friends farewell. Others leaned against walls, where they’d likely wake in the morning. The weather was pleasant, at least. Winter’s chill was still far off. The changing leaves bathed the forest floor in a mixture of oranges, yellows, and browns.
He’d always enjoyed this time of year.
The stars twinkled above and the moon was nearly full, helping to illuminate the dimly lit streets.
The setting was peaceful. Serene. Nights like tonight were one of the many reasons he chose to return under the cover of darkness, if only to enjoy the city for a few brief hours without interruption.
A shuffle in the dark alleyway to his left made Rion pause. He studied the shadows, then a sliver of movement drew his attention to the ground.
A black and white cat dug through the trash, pulling out leftover scraps. The small creature froze and watched him with one paw raised. Its green eyes reflected the streetlights, and the two stared one another down before more movement shifted Rion’s attention.
A Fae sat against the outside wall farther back, his head hung forward as if he’d fallen asleep. Rion scented the air. Not a Fae, a half-breed. He heard the faint click of metal, then noticed the chains. A slave. Either a runaway, or one who’d been discarded. Nàdair had programs in place to keep them off the streets. The slave would likely be picked up come morning and transferred to a new owner if their old one couldn’t be found.
A shred of sympathy rose from the depths of his darkened soul. They were as trapped by their circumstances as he was. Escape would only lead to death.
Rion clenched his fists as he studied the male. Thin. So impossibly thin and frail. There should be rules in place. Safeguards to prevent owners from mistreating their slaves.
They had heartbeats and drew breath just like anyone else, and yet horses were treated better.
Saoirse had once protected him when Rion couldn’t defend himself. Maybe that’s exactly what the half-breeds needed. A Saoirse to save them, perhaps guide them to a new life.
He sighed. The only thing that stood in his way was an entire country and their ridiculous beliefs. The continent had been built on slavery. It would take nothing short of a miracle to end it.
But Móirín had. Many Fae had balked at the High Lord’s command. Most had labeled him a sympathizer. Others questioned his sanity and whether he’d grown too soft after finding his mate.
A slight scuff of boots against the cobblestones drew Rion’s focus away from the half-breed. His eyes scanned the road, then Rion cursed and he leaned back just in time to dodge a knife aimed at his throat.
Plants broke through the cobblestones at his feet and reached for his legs, but Rion’s sand ground them to dust.
He leaped back to avoid a barrage of knives, then cursed again when another set flew at him from behind.
Rion rolled across the ground and jumped back to his feet, drawing his own weapon to block a blade aimed at his heart. A sharp sensation pierced his left shoulder and Rion roared at the shadows.
A male voice barked a command.
He was home. Home and yet once again, Fae from his own country were trying to kill him.
Rion gritted his teeth, then a blade sank deep into his thigh. An unbridled rage pulsed through him then.
He hated this. Hated always having to keep his guard up. Hated them .
Rion’s magic rolled across the ground like a wave, and he caught several hidden bodies in its clutches. They growled and snarled and fought.
It took less than a heartbeat for Rion to crush their bones, rendering their legs useless. Howls of pain filled the air, then a roar of fury followed from another alleyway.
Rion turned to find a male charging him head on with his sword drawn. Stupid, really, but Rion allowed him to get close. Allowed their swords to clash, too.
Anger flashed behind those dark, unfamiliar eyes. Emotion had taken over. The male swung his blade again, throwing too much of his body weight into the thrust. Rion scented the alcohol on his breath as he parried the weapon and flung it from the male’s grasp. The blond-haired male resorted to using his fists, seeming to disregard the magic at his disposal. Rage blinded him. Rage and intoxication.
Rion took a blow to the face, then another to the gut. He relished the pain. It was the only thing that eased the torment he carried day in and day out.
The male drew a blade and sliced it across Rion’s arm. Another strike came too close to his throat.
At one time, Rion had considered letting another take his life. But that part of him was long gone. Buried. Dead. If they wanted to claim his life, they’d have to be strong enough to do it. None had ever come close.
Rion planted a knee in the male’s ribs and shoved him to the ground. Rion drew his sword and lashed out, relishing the feel of his blade cutting through another’s flesh.
The male struck at him again and Rion returned the blow. Again and again and again. They moved and clashed and danced.
Those left of his warriors rejoined the fray, likely violating their commander’s wishes to take Rion down one on one. He caught them with the loose particles floating through the air. The sand raced up their legs, wrapped around their torsos and arms, then dove down the warriors’ throats.
The male lunged at him again, rage renewed, but Rion tackled him, wrestled for dominance, then pinned the male to the ground. The male spit in Rion’s face, snapping his teeth as he shouted obscenities and cursed him to the deepest level of hell.
Rion had heard it all before. Heard the other words, too. Monster. Demon. Abomination.
Rion slammed his blade through the male’s chest and twisted. A soft gasp, then the male fell limp. Rion stood, sucking down breath and tilted his head up to the stars. A brisk wind picked up, hitting the blood and sweat coating his skin.
He wiped them away, smearing droplets across his cheeks. It didn’t matter, he’d clean up once he was back in his room. He’d receive a letter from Alec tomorrow demanding he answer for the deaths of those left in the street.
But Rion would simply throw it away. Just like he had all the others.
A near silent gasp had Rion pivoting toward the alley, ready to defend himself yet again. The feline was gone, but the half-breed stared at him with wide eyes, frozen to the spot. Rion wasn’t even sure he was breathing. Rion’s lips parted. He’d forgotten the male was there, caked in his own filth, and he’d just seen . . . a monster. He’d just seen a monster.
Rion’s gaze traveled over the bodies at his feet. The half-breed’s horror-struck eyes followed and for a split second, guilt washed through him. This male had already been through so much and he’d had to witness this, too.
Rion took one step toward the male, and the half-breed scrambled back. A sob escaped his too-thin frame, and Rion halted. Moments ago, the male might have accepted his offer, but not now. Not after what he’d just witnessed.
Footsteps echoed off the pavement, coming in fast. Rion pivoted again, ready for another group to strike out. He lifted his magic. Adjusted the grip on his sword.
Saoirse skidded around the corner, one hand braced against the wall, chest heaving, and froze when their eyes locked. She wore her casual attire today, a simple pair of slacks and a shirt. She always carried at least one weapon. Today, it was a set of knives in her belt.
She surveyed him, then her gaze dropped to the male at his feet. He expected her brows to furrow. For her to reprimand him for not holding back, as she’d done so many times before.
A sharp intake of breath told him this was different.
His sister gripped her chest, then stumbled forward, one arm outstretched as if she could reach the male from where she stood.
Fear engulfed him.
Rion stepped back, his heart thundering as Saoirse crossed the short distance and fell to her knees, landing right in the puddle of the male’s blood. He watched her caress the male’s face, then her fingers reached for his neck. A broken sob tore from her throat when she didn’t find a pulse.
Saoirse draped herself over the body as if she could protect him, then an anguished cry escaped his sister’s lips.
Rion stepped back. Stumbled.
Saoirse.
She clutched the male’s tunic so hard her knuckles turned white. Her shoulders shook, rising and falling as despair tore through her body.
Rion’s breath came faster and pain speared through his heart, ripping open the emotions he’d buried for the last decade.
Saoirse.
A door cracked open nearby. Someone stepped into the blood-soaked street. Rion looked at his hands. At the blood coating them, then back to his sister’s shaking body.
She shifted, trying to sit up, then Rion ran. Ran faster than he’d ever run in his entire life. He couldn’t face her. Couldn’t bear to see the same look on her face that so many others had given him. He could take being called a monster from everyone else. But if Saoirse looked at him that way . . . Rion’s heart lodged in his throat. He couldn’t—he couldn’t—he—
Rion rounded the next corner and collided with another body. Both went to the ground, rolling, and the Fae cursed, turning on him in anger before realizing who he was.
Fear. Always so much fear. Rion scrambled back to his feet and kept running. His leg throbbed. The small cuts and lacerations across his body burned. But he couldn’t stop. He needed to get as far away from the city as possible. As far away from her.
Saoirse . Had he finally done it? Had he lost her forever? Why hadn’t he ever considered it before? She’d grown up in Nàdair. She’d trained, gone to school, had friends and a life outside of him. How many others had he taken from her? How many friends had he forced her to bury?
And gods, what if that male had meant more? What if—
Rion bolted through the same hole in the redwoods he always used to escape. His leg twitched and Rion stumbled again, but he forced his body up and kept running. Ran from Nàdair. Ran from the responsibility and anger and rage that had driven him for the last decade.
A monster.
Gods, he really was a monster.
***
Rion kept going and only stopped long enough to bind his leg. He limped across the open plains, pushing southwest until the sun rose in the sky.
Dry tears caked his face and his throat was raw from screaming.
Pain. There was always so much pain no matter where he went. And now Saoirse . . .
Rion clenched his fists and slammed one through another tree. His knuckles were already bruised. He was certain one had cracked, judging from the swelling.
He didn’t care.
It wasn’t until the sun began its descent in the sky that Rion collapsed next to a slow-moving river. He dropped his head in his hands, pulled at the strands of his hair, then rubbed his face.
Rion stared at the water for a long minute, watching leaves lazily drift downstream. He crawled toward the edge and splashed water over his face, clearing away the blood and dirt.
The sound of Saoirse’s sobs tore through him again and Rion clenched his shirt in one hand, right over his aching heart. He gritted his teeth, trying to force the tears back.
He’d messed up this time. She’d never forgive him, and he honestly couldn’t blame her.
Hearing her scream had broken something else in him. Something Rion hadn’t even realized he’d been clinging to. Despite pushing her away for the past several years, Saoirse was still the only thing he’d had left. She’d never lost faith in him. Even after his ruthless treatment of the border villages, she’d always defended him and stood by his side.
But now—Rion took a breath and tried to steady himself. Could he handle it if he’d lost Saoirse, too? The answer was obvious.
Maybe now she’d join the others in plotting his demise. Hell, maybe she’d hunt him down herself.
Rion cleaned his wounds and spread a salve over the worst two before binding them with a clean cloth. He finished the last of his food, then stared at the small fire.
Gone. It was all gone. His home. His sister.
They were the last things he had to define himself. They were the only connections he had to his mother. He was a vagabond, left with only the wide wilderness to claim.
Rion sat there, thoughts ringing through his mind until shadows stretched across the land. Perhaps he should go to the northern continent after all. That’s where Saoirse had originally planned to hide him. He could wipe his hands clean of Brónach and Alastríona forever. No one would know him there, and no one would hunt him so long as he steered clear of the humans.
There was also the continent to the west. None lived in the wild lands, or so the Fae claimed. He could also try traveling south and jump between the islands. Maybe he could even convince an explorer to sail east, discover a new continent altogether, if any existed.
But something kept Rion from pursuing those options. As if the land itself called to him, begging him to stay. He didn’t understand it, he only knew he couldn’t leave. This was his home, whether he liked it or not.
Rion thought about his mother and, for the hundredth time, wondered what she’d think of the male he’d become. Her opinion probably wouldn’t differ from others. She’d see her youngest son as an abomination. A disappointment. If there was one being in the world Rion wouldn’t fight, it was her.
Rion suffocated the fire, then spread his legs out, content to watch the last rays of the sun dip below the horizon when the mountain in the distance caught his eye.
It loomed above the land. A silent reminder that even the Fae had something to fear. Rion studied the ominous trees. It was a dark place, a forbidden stretch of land where the Dark Fae were rumored to run wild. A forest full of monsters.
Monsters like him.
The great mountain peaks separated Móirín from Brónach. Neither country claimed them as part of their territory. Fae didn’t go there. Fae died amongst those trees, left by the creatures that prowled beneath the ancient boughs.
But maybe that’s where he belonged. Somewhere where the world couldn’t find him. Where they’d forget he ever existed. He’d vanish and become nothing more than a whispered fable. Or maybe they’d let the memory of him slip away altogether.
Rion snapped a stick between his hands, then stood and shouldered his pack again. He glanced back once more at Nàdair. To those familiar trees that rose high above all the others. A pang of longing echoed in his chest.
Then Rion turned away and began the long trek toward the forbidden mountains.