Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SERAFINA
F or a long moment, the two of us just stare at each other, assessing.
His brows slash low over striking yellow eyes. His sharp gaze assesses me from head to toe, likely taking in the mild tremble that's running through my muscles.
I doubt much passes him by. But, like most, he will likely attribute that fine tremble, the clenching and releasing of my muscles, as a sign of nerves, fear, restlessness, or even being out of shape rather than the illness-oriented muscle weakness or micro-seizures they really are.
I can’t help but wonder what Cadmus would look like if he didn’t have scales and slitted eyes. Handsome, I assume. Yet I think I prefer him like this. There’s something…chaotic about his appearance. Dangerous. Beastly. What others may deem as imperfections actually make him more alluring in a strange, unusual way.
He cants his head to the side, and his long, braided hair catches in the light of the flames. They don’t have any electricity that I can see, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t any. I thought I saw a television mounted to one of the stalls, but that’s impossible, isn’t it? How would a television wind up in Faerie, a world that looks as if it’s plucked out of the fourteen hundreds?
“Are you going to tell me who you are and why you’re here?” His voice is deep. Sibilant. Balancing that edge between a hiss and a growl.
“Serafina.” I turn towards my three mates fanned out behind me. “Kian, Tristan, and Foster.”
Cadmus flicks his gaze to them, his brows furrowing farther, before he returns his focus on me. His forked tongue slides out from between his lips.
“You’re not from here.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question, and I don’t take it as one.
It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that the four of us don’t fit in.
All of their clothes are rumpled and loose-fitting, seeming to be made out of the same material of the tents or the fur of some unknown animals. Their camp isn’t barbaric by any means, but it’s a far cry from home. There’s no electricity, no modern appliances, no processed food. Everything is basic and rudimentary.
I squint at him. “I think you already know where we’re from. Don’t you?”
A smile bends his mouth. “I haven’t seen an Earthling in…years.”
Foster steps forward, seemingly unable to hold his tongue a second longer. Not that I’m surprised. If there’s one thing I’ve come to learn about Foster, it’s that he’s constantly curious about the world and everyone in it. He yearns to find a puzzle and solve it.
Cadmus may just be the biggest puzzle to date.
“How long have you guys been here? How are you alive? I heard that the virus rampaged through the world and killed everyone in it,” my fire mate rambles, removing his thick glasses to wipe them on the hem of his shirt.
Cadmus gives me an “are you serious?” look.
“He’s not the most tactful of men, is he?” he asks me.
Foster’s cheeks burn nearly as bright as his hair.
“He’s only asking what we’re all thinking,” I retort, reaching forward to take Foster’s hand in mine and giving it a squeeze.
He flashes me a relieved smile before focusing back on Cadmus.
Cadmus moves towards the rickety table and begins to scan some of the documents lying there. His movements are lazy, almost casual, but I can see the sharpness in his eyes that belies his easy-going demeanor.
“How much were you taught about the world you came from?” he asks, flipping through the pages in front of him.
I wonder what he’s looking at and have to fight the urge to edge forward. I need him to trust me, and that means not reading what could very well be classified documents.
“That there was a virus or disease or something. A lot of fae died.” I purposely keep my answer vague, wanting Cadmus to fill in the blanks for me.
I have a feeling that if I play my hand too early, he’ll get skittish and clam up.
But I’m so damn close to answers. I can feel it in my bones.
There are still fae in this world. Communities.
Could my parents be here?
A sharp, shooting pain lances through me at just the thought. I love my family more than anything, and I’d never regret them adopting me, but sometimes, I can’t help but think of the biological family who left me to rot. Did they love me? Are they still alive? Why did they let me go?
Those questions tumble around and around in my head like a ragweed caught in the wind, billowing across a field.
“All of that is true,” Cadmus confesses as he flips over a piece of paper to read the writing on the back. “But that’s not the full truth, of course. Haven’t you learned that there’s more to the world than what meets the eye? Look at the fae on Earth, for example. They could easily pass as human. Only someone with intimate knowledge of our world can see the creature that lurks just beneath their skin.”
“Have you been to Earth? Is that why you speak such good English?” I ask.
Cadmus’s smile is sharp and brittle, the barest uptick of lips. He doesn’t glance up from the paper that seems to have captivated his attention. “I don’t think I would fit in there very well, do you?”
“People might just think you’re a strange cosplayer.” Tristan ruffles his caramel-brown hair with a frown. “Humans always search for explanations when they don’t understand something. Or someone.”
“Cosplay?” The man frowns.
“It’s when people dress up like their favorite character from a book or television show or comic book,” Tristan explains.
“Nerd,” Kian fake-coughs from beside him, and I swear the tips of Tristan’s ears tint pink.
“Comic book?” Cadmus appears even more confused.
“When were you last on Earth?” I query, wanting to ask him about the television I thought I saw but biting my tongue.
Not important.
Cadmus doesn’t even hesitate before he answers with a curt, “Never.” At my look of disbelief, he elaborates. “None of us have ever been to Earth before. Maybe some of the elders have, but…” He absently scratches at his jawline, where the beginning of a beard resides. “We haven’t traveled through a portal in over one hundred years. Most of the time, people come and visit us.”
People? Like…my adoptive parents?
The queen?
V?
The latter wouldn’t surprise me in the least. My psychotic prince seems awfully comfortable in this world. At least until…
My throat closes.
V, hang in there. I’ll be home soon.
“So what happened, exactly?” Foster interjects, steering the conversation back in the right direction. “With the virus, I mean.”
“I wasn’t around when it all began.” Cadmus blows out a breath and finally steps away from the table. He crosses the room and perches on the edge of his cot, staring blankly at his outstretched hands. Even his fingernails are slightly sharper than normal, appearing almost like talons. “Fae may live longer than humans, but we’re not immortal.
“My great-grandma told me about life here, though. She described it as an ethereal paradise I can’t even begin to imagine. Not now.
“We were ruled by a gracious king.” He pauses then, as if trying to remember something, before snapping his fingers together. “King Loren. My gram said he was beloved by all of his people.” He rolls his eyes. “It makes you wonder if he was truly as great a ruler as the elders would want you to believe. After all, it was under his reign that the world fucking ended. But back then, our leaders weren’t chosen based on their bloodlines. It wasn’t hereditary. It was believed that the gods and goddesses themselves chose the ruler when he or she was just a baby. That baby would train under the current ruler until he or she came of age.”
“How would they know who the ruler was?” Foster pipes up, frowning.
“There were signs.” Cadmus waves away Foster’s question with a flippant flick of his wrist. “Anyway, Loren was the current ruler when the world went to shit. He and his wives?—”
“Wives?” This time, it’s Kian who interrupts, disbelief lacing his tone.
I’m surprised. Polyamory may not be accepted in the human world, but it’s basically expected in the fae one. Wolves—if they don’t find their fated mates—remain together as one big pack-slash-orgy. Succubi and incubi are known to have a handful of committed lovers. Hell, even unicorns take multiple romantic partners.
Cadmus’s eyes flick his way before lowering back to his hand. “Yes. The rulers were known to have large harems of lovers and mates, mainly to have a balance in power. They usually ruled the land as a team, hence the need for multiple voices and opinions.”
Something about his statement strikes me as odd, yet I can’t put my finger on why that is. Instead, I lean forward, eagerly awaiting the rest of his story.
“Legend has it that one of Loren’s wives—who often goes by a different name in history books—became jealous. Bitter. Cruel. She didn’t like the attention he was bestowing on his other mates and sought to rectify that…no matter the consequences.” He bites down on his lower lip, frowning. “I don’t know if this is just a rumor or if it’s the truth, but they say that she went crazy and murdered all of the other wives.”
I suck in a sharp breath as pain slashes at my chest.
The thought of something happening to my mates…
No. I can’t even think about it.
How could someone do that? Even V, the most possessive and psychotic asshole I know, would never think of harming my other guys. He cares for them as brothers—even if he won’t ever admit it—and he loves me enough not to do anything that would hurt me.
Bile tears at my throat with acid-tipped fingers, but I swallow it down.
Tristan has gone very pale beside me. “What happened then?”
Cadmus shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head simultaneously. “Here is where the records vary, depending on who you speak to or what you read. Some claim that Loren went insane and spent the rest of his days hiding in his castle. Others say he became her puppet, willingly following her around like a besotted pup…at least until his final days. Nobody knows for sure, but what we do know is that Queen Leah rose to power swiftly and brutally, killing anyone who dared to oppose her.”
Killing anyone…?
Didn’t Cadmus say that babies were born as the rulers?
“She killed children?” I whisper, stunned. Horrified. Disgusted. Appalled.
Cadmus’s lips firm, and he manages a tiny nod. “At first, she painted herself as a kind, benevolent leader. She claimed a terrorist group killed her sisters, and everyone believed her. But when the first child was born displaying signs of being the new leader, her parents immediately took her to the castle. Queen Leah killed the child and her parents on sight. It was only then that the fae realized not everything was as it seemed.
“No matter how much power the queen had, it seemed as if she always wanted more. Nothing was good enough for her. It was her who changed the ruling system—her offspring would be the kings and queens of the land, instead of the gods’ chosen child.”
V’s ancestors, I realize with a growing sense of dread.
Fuck.
“And how did the virus come to be?” Kian anxiously nibbles on his thumbnail.
“Another thing history can’t agree on.” Cadmus rolls his neck from side to side as if his hunched-over position is causing him pain. “Some claim it was the land itself punishing Queen Leah for her tyrannical rule. Others say it was the gods and goddesses trying to restore balance. And there are some who claim that Queen Leah herself created the virus in order to gain more power.
“I don’t think it was the queen, though. I think that the world was angry, and it wanted revenge. A lot of fae believe that.
“When the virus rampaged through the world, Queen Leah gathered her most loyal supporters and combined their powers to create a portal to Earth. Those who were against her rule—or just didn’t have a single gold coin to their name—were left here to rot.”
His lips pull away from his teeth in a combination of a grimace and a snarl. His slitted eyes flash ominously in the candlelight. “Most of us died, but those who didn’t…”
He absently holds up his arm and studies the scaled skin. “We changed. Our creatures began to take over. Some of our scholars believe it was our species’ way of adapting and surviving. After all, we’re stronger in our fae forms, so wouldn’t it make sense for us to evolve into them? I don’t know why some of us survived the virus while others didn’t. Is it faith? Divine intervention? Or are we simply being punished, forced to watch the ones we love perish before our eyes while we survive?”
I take a moment to process his words, unable to comprehend the horror all these people have been through.
“When we first arrived in Faerie, we spotted an abandoned town.” Tristan frowns. “Why aren’t you guys living there?”
Cadmus’s chuckle is cold and scathing, a beautiful noise dripping in malice like a rose skewed by a bloodied blade.
“I take it you guys haven’t been here too long.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Do you really think we’re the only creatures in this world that changed and evolved with time? There are creatures out there…monsters that you can’t even begin to fathom. They usually reside near abandoned towns and villages, hoping to pick off any wayward fae.”
He laughs again, the noise devoid of any humor. “We found that it’s safer to constantly be moving. We’ve perfected the art of setting up and taking down our tents in the span of minutes. Sometimes, we stay in one area for a month. Other times, it’s only a few days. We’ve learned that the best course of action is being as unpredictable as possible. If you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, then the monsters certainly won’t.”
I think of the cute kitten I found with Foster and wonder if that’s one of the monsters Cadmus is referring to. How badly things could’ve gone if V didn’t swoop in and save us.
One glance into my fire mate’s face shows he’s thinking the same thing as well.
“So there are more communities than just yours?” Kian asks, obviously remembering the wayward comment Rachelle made about clan gatherings.
“There are over a dozen that we know about. Probably more that we don’t. We meet annually to discuss the state of the world.” Abruptly, he stands and straightens, folding his arms over his chest. “I gave you a lot of information. Isn’t it fair that I receive some in return?”
He arches a dark eyebrow, waiting for me to argue or contradict him.
But he’s right. He does deserve at least some answers.
I just don’t know what to tell him.
Cadmus must see the indecision on my face because he takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving my own. “Why are you here, little fighter? And how are you still alive?”
“I came here a bit ago for answers about who I am and where I came from. But now, I’ve come here for help.” My stomach twists and tightens painfully. “One of my mates came with me the last time”—or stalked me here, but potato, potahto—“and he got sick. Very sick. I don’t know what happened to him, though I suspect he was exposed to some variation of the virus. I need to find a cure, and fast.”
“One of your mates?” He glances at my three guys curiously.
“Not one of them. He’s back home. Waiting for me.” Tears prick the backs of my eyes.
I know V’s still alive—I can feel it through the bond—but I have no idea what condition he’s in. Is he conscious? Worried about me? Or is he still withering in pain, sweat dampening his dark hair to his forehead?
Who will hold his hand if I’m not there? Who will wipe away the sweat from his face?
Cadmus seems to consider his next words carefully. “I might be able to help, if I could see him. As a basilisk, I’m able to detect and drain out most poisons and sicknesses and viruses. Anything that will affect the blood of a fae or human.”
He runs a finger across his lips contemplatively.
My heart skitters with hope.
“But I’ll need something in return, little skinwalker.”
“Anything,” I blurt before I can think better of it.
But I won’t change my mind. I’ll do anything for any of my mates, consequences be damned.
“Wait.” Kian moves to stand protectively in front of me. “What did you just call her?”
I stare at Kian in confusion, but Foster obviously understands where Kian’s going with this.
He moves to join him in front of me. “You called her skinwalker. How did you know?”
Cadmus appears confused. His brows bunch together, and a noticeable fissure materializes between his eyes. “I told you before. The babies were always born with distinct characteristics that set them apart from the others. They were the only fae in existence who began showing signs of their species before their Revelation.”
“Wait. What?” I gape at him.
What does that have to do with anything?
But I have a sinking feeling I already know.
My stomach bottoms out, and I sway precariously on my feet, dark spots encroaching on the edges of my vision.
“I thought you knew. I thought that’s why you came.” Cadmus’s frown deepens, creating twin wrinkles on either side of his lips. “The future ruler was always born as a skinwalker—the only fae of their type for generations. And they always, always had distinct pink hair.”
He takes a step closer as my heart hammers so hard in my chest I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter my rib cage. My breath comes out in choppy gasps that sound abnormally loud in the sudden silence that permeates the tent.
“You, Serafina, are the next ruler of Faerie, and you may just be the one who can save us all.”