Five
Liam
The door to the cottage swung open with a resentful creak, protesting my sudden arrival. I stepped over the threshold, and the sight pummeled me like a rogue wave. It was chaos unleashed in a room that once knew order.
"Damnit," I muttered, the word slicing through the stillness.
My boots crunched on debris, the remnants of Raina's short time here shattered across the floor. The quiet home had been transformed into a battleground of broken pieces and toppled furniture.
Growing up in Ephandor, then becoming the king's head guard, scenes of struggle were familiar, but this was personal. This was Raina's world, turned upside down.
I moved through the destruction, scanning for clues, for any sense of her essence left behind. She could be anywhere, suffering the worst of what dishonorable savages could do.
Not now. Now was for action, for finding her.
Drops of blood were by the door, a bigger coagulated puddle further in. Some of it was Lorne's. I hoped all of it was and that Raina had been taken unharmed.
With the amount of damage, however, it was doubtful. She was a fighter and wouldn't have gone quietly.
I continued exploring, noticing the broken window in the bedroom. The unmade bed. Her scent was everywhere, but so were others'.
Among the chaos, my gaze snagged on something painfully familiar. A wooden box, small, unassuming, but loaded with the weight of a thousand regrets, lay there amid the splinters and broken porcelain.
Hesitation gripped my chest, squeezing until reason gave way to the need to touch it, to feel the smooth grain under my fingertips. Why had she kept it?
Stupid box, I grumbled to myself, the dark humor a feeble attempt to shield myself from the onslaught of emotions.
I bent down, muscles taut, and picked it up. My hands, so accustomed to the cold embrace of weapons, warmed against the wood. It was heavier than I remembered.
"Should've thrown you into the fire when I had the chance," I scolded the lifeless object, picturing Raina's small frame, the shy tilt of her chin when she'd handed it to me.
She'd given me a lock of her hair to keep inside the box. Sixteen and blushing, she'd said it was silly but she had nothing else to give me.
Years later, when I'd heard rumors of her parents' plan to buy their way out of the contract with my father, I'd gone to Snowfall. Storming in, ignoring the guards, I'd hunted her down inside her quarters.
When I'd confronted her with what I'd heard, she'd remained maddeningly silent. Not one damn word escaped her lips. Not a single emotion showed on her face.
Seething, my emotions had boiled over like never before and I hurled the box at her. I thought I heard a sob echo in my ears as I stormed out, but that couldn't have been right.
Anger surged, a welcome blaze to chase away the chill of regret. I'd been cruel, lashing out with words sharpened by emotional wounds.
Banishing the ugly memory, I lifted the lid, expecting the same silken lock, tied with a thin pink ribbon, to be nestled inside. And it was, but something had been added.
The sickly sweet scent was an instant assault on the senses. I recoiled as if struck. My heart stuttered, a painful lurch that threatened to shatter the walls I'd built around it.
Fixedly, I stared down at dried leaves, processing. Green sallow and what looked like wormwood, fae symbols representing false love and bitter sorrow.
The leaves mocked me, their presence in the box a clearer message than any words could convey. I clenched my jaw, shoving the box into the depths of my jacket.
Quickly, I did one more sweep, then another outside. No answers were here, but I knew where to get some.
I invoked the portal spell. My magic surged, tugging at the fabric of space before ripping it wide open. A darkness colder than the deepest winter night beckoned, taking me away from Greenhollow and into the heart of Tetria.
I stepped through, emerging into the sour odor of spilled ale and unwashed bodies. My sight adjusted quickly, taking in the dinginess, the desperation clinging to the walls like cobwebs.
The wood furnishings were old but sturdy, occupied by figures clad in dark clothing. Whispers skittered over the grimy floor like vermin, and wary glances cut through the haze of pipe smoke.
It felt like a place where danger lurked around every corner. I could almost sense the secrets and sins that hung in the air like a heavy, suffocating fog.
It was a haunt of killers and criminals, the tavern where the Vendeca slithered through the shadows.
The pub's cacophony dulled as I stalked through it, every sense attuned to the hunt. My eyes, sharp as a hawk's, swept over the den of thieves and cutthroats.
Then, there they were—the huddle of midnight cloaks, Vendeca insignias glinting in the light from the fae lanterns. Their suspicious eyes narrowed at my approach.
My boots thudded with purpose against the floorboards. The crowd parted for me. Several of the assassins glanced at the black and gold crest on the front of my jacket.
I didn't need it, but at least they knew this wasn't a social visit.
"Talk," I growled, the word more beast than fae.
Their stubborn silence was a red flag to the bull of my wrath, and I could almost taste the tang of fear beginning to seep into the smoky air of the pub.
One tried to stand, a foolish attempt to assert some semblance of control. A mistake.
With a swift motion, my fist connected with his jaw, an audible crack slicing through the tension. He fell like a marionette with its strings cut.
"Nothing to say?" I sneered, my voice a dangerous whisper as I leaned in close to another, letting him feel the lethal promise coiled within me.
I grabbed him by his shirt, my knuckles white. I didn't enjoy brutality, but I was good at it.
"Your loyalty will cost you more than you can afford," I warned.
The pompous asshole shared a look of contempt with his cronies. Their unconscious peer hadn't been enough of a message, so I drew my dagger, not wasting a second.
My hand acted of its own accord, the blade in my grip finding its home in his traitorous heart with a precision honed in years of battles.
The body slumped, lifeless, to the floor, a silent testament to the futility of resistance.
"Next," I growled as I advanced toward another cluster of assassins.
They watched me approach, their eyes wide with the knowledge of what had just transpired. What was about to befall them.
They came at me together, perhaps thinking there was strength in numbers. I welcomed the challenge, the rush of combat.
A wicked grin split my face as I parried a thrust, spinning to drive my elbow into the gut of another assailant. "What's the matter?" I taunted. "Ten on one not good enough odds?"
But behind the jest, the clock in my head ticked relentlessly. A fury within burned hotter than the magic in my veins. I needed answers.
"Talk!" I demanded, slamming a Vendeca against the wall, the others momentarily forgotten. "Where is she?"
He spat blood and defiance, a smirk curling his lips even as fear flickered in his eyes. "Go to hell."
"Already there," I muttered, headbutting him, his nose breaking in a satisfying crunch.
"Who's next?" I spun around, ready for more.
Their answer came fast in the form of a blade aimed for my throat. I arched back, plugging the male just below the sternum and kicking his knee. He dropped immediately.
The remaining Vendeca spread out, finally pulling their heads out of their asses. It wouldn't help.
I advanced, stepping over the groaning prostrate form, feeling the pull of muscles and sinew, honed by years of training and battle. Each step was measured, calculated, knowing what they were about to do in response.
Their coordinated attack came fast. I was faster.
A curse here, a whimper there. I was a force of nature, an unstoppable storm of vengeance and wrath.
"Bastard!" growled a hulking brute who seemed to think his size would help him.
He swung at me, a desperate, clumsy attempt that I sidestepped easily. My return was swift, knuckles cracking against bone. He folded, and I was on to another before he hit the floor.
My attacks became more focused, a deadly ballet of rage and purpose. Each blow I delivered was precise. I fought through the onslaught without feeling pain.
And then, it was done. The last Vendeca lay at my feet, unconscious or too broken to continue.
I stood alone amidst the wreckage, the silence ringing louder than any scream. My breaths came in ragged gasps, my hands stained with the evidence of my resolve.
I hadn't gotten a gods damned thing from them. I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing myself the luxury of breathing deeply.
When I opened my eyes again, I noticed one of the males sitting up, clutching his broken arm to his chest. Sheathing the dagger, I pulled my sword and pointed it over his heart.
"Alright! Alright!" The words burst forth from his bloody lips.
He caved beneath my unrelenting stare, the dam of his resolve crumbling away. "Her parents ... they struck a deal with someone. We were hired to help retrieve her so the terms of the deal were fulfilled."
"Her parents were killed weeks ago."
He swallowed. "I know. They arranged it before they went to Thornewood."
I'd already loathed Raina's mother and father, but if I could bring them back and kill them again, I would. "What were the terms?"
"I don't know exactly." He shifted, wincing.
"Then what do you know? And don't leave anything out or I'll break your legs, as well."
His tongue touched the split in his lip and for a second I was sure I'd need to do exactly as I'd threatened.
"They sold her. Or were in the middle of selling her. I'm not clear on it, only overhead some things I wasn't meant to. Whomever was supposed to follow through with it is, of course, bound by magic to complete the bargain. But that's all I know, I swear!"
The confession hit me like a gut punch, a sickening wave of revulsion rising up as the image of Raina flickered across my mind. To be sold by those meant to protect her. It was a betrayal of the worst kind.
"Sold," I repeated, the word bitter on my tongue.
I lowered my sword, disgust twisting my features as I let the information settle like lead in my core. But there was no time for the tumultuous sea of emotions crashing over my head.
"Congratulations, you get to live," I said, the sarcasm dripping from each word like acid.
"But if you ever lift a hand against anyone under the direct protection of King Nox again, your brotherhood will be eliminated, completely."
I stomped on his femur hard enough for a clean break. He was lucky I hadn't sawed off his head.
Turning away from the whimpering heap, my heart hardened with every step I took towards the exit. I was going after that insufferable frost fae.
I needed closure and she was going to fucking give it to me, even if it killed us both.
Liam Duersi