THREE
Ace
Blood soaked through her clothes. It stained her skin. It was on Shelby and was left behind on everything they touched. Red fingerprints. Red footprints.
Red.
Red.
Red.
The color was starting to make her sick.
Ace worked to wipe away the fingerprints she left on Ishaan’s, the bakery owner, gate as she fiddled with the lock with what little fabric of her shirt was dry. Shelby was behind her, hunched forward so his towering height wasn’t quite as noticeable.
The streets had been oddly quiet. No one knew. No one acted as if they’d even heard the thundering booms that had destroyed the castle. No one in Maipeg understood that the Fae were here. The Fae had finally returned. A tremble coursed through her as she tried not to think about it.
Shelby closed the gate behind him as he followed Ace to the lattice. He didn’t speak as he hoisted himself up to the cracked window that she thrust open. Ace tumbled in and rolled over to allow room for Shelby to fall in next to her.He thudded to a stop. There were no prayers from Ishaan which meant he wasn’t here. Ace had been in too much of a hurry to look and see if the shop was actually open.
Shelby didn’t move from the ground next to Ace. Neither of them spoke for several long minutes as they breathed heavily. Ace held her hand up to the light, staring at the blood that had worked its way into the cracks of her dry fingers and underneath her nails. Shelby’s blood. She stretched her other arm out and placed her hand on Shelby’s forearm just to be sure that he was still real. His skin was still hot from coming through the holy fire.
“Don’t touch me,” he sneered, pulling his arm away.
Carefully, she let him go and settled her hands on her stomach. She turned her head, her dark unruly hair scattered all around her. The longest bits had stretched toward Shelby and brushed against his shoulders. She tried to distract herself for a moment and wiggled her toes in her thin socks. The pair had kicked off their blood stained boots outside the castle gates to avoid tracking more blood.
He twisted and sunlight fell across his dark features. Orange split across his iris. One single streak. She knew if she let her gaze fall to his broad chest she’d find a star shaped scar there.
What did you do?
That’s what he’d asked her when he’d awoken. Guilt made the butterflies that had once been in her stomach turn to lead. Relief was there too. Relief that he was alive. That she wasn’t alone. Yet that felt so far away now as Shelby’s expression looked pained.
Ace was never truly alone. Not with the gods that spoke inside her head at every hour of the day. They’d been quiet all morning but after the Fae had run through the castle they’d begun to stir. Their voices had risen, one by one, until they all blurred together as they worked themselves into a tizzy.
The queen is dead.
Dead.
She’s finally dead.
One queen is dead.
Three more queens to kill.
Biting her lip, Ace inhaled slowly trying to release the fear that was gripping her. She hadn’t killed Queen Sienna. Who had? The Fae? That orange eyed man? She couldn’t quit thinking about him, but thinking about him made her think about Shelby, who’d been dying when she saw the stranger.
Shelby hadn’t been breathing. He’d been there saving her one moment and then he’d been laying on the floor, whispering Ace’s name. Part of her heart was still tattered from the memory. Shelby was here but that didn’t change the fact that he could be gone just as easily.
How could she tell Shelby about the man who was just like her? Them? Shelby was like her now, dead and brought back to life. Ace remembered how terrible it had felt to return to the living. Mina, the goddess of love, was right. Shelby was going to hate her forever now.
Shelby stared up at the ceiling. His eyes were glassy, the shine of tears gathering along his eyelids. He didn’t blink. Not a single tear fell across his cheek. Ace tried to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat as she examined him.
“Everything hurts,” Shelby whispered. “Everything is hot. My chest, my skin, my throat...” He took a shuddering breath. “All of me feels raw.”
“It’ll go awa—”
“You did it,” he bit out.
Ace closed her eyes, wishing it had been her and not him. She would have died a thousand times over again.
“You forced me into the...the fire.”
I’m sorry. The words were waiting for her to say them. She was sorry that he’d gone through it but she couldn’t bring herself to truly be sorry that she’d brought him back to life.
“Shelby,” Ace whispered.
“I would have—” His throat bobbed before he scrubbed at his face and sat up.
Ace stayed on her back. She watched him as he took in the small room. There was a pile of blankets Ace used for a bed in the corner and next to that the only other pair of shoes she owned. The walls were brick and the wooden floorboards were scratched up, but the room was empty.
“Is this where you live?” He looked down at her. The tears that had been in his eyes were gone. Perhaps she’d only imagined them. His shoulders sagged and his lips curled down into a frown.
“Yes.”
He crinkled his nose in disgust before he pushed himself up to standing and crossed the room. There were thick white curtains that covered the windows facing the street below, Shelby hooked a finger against the fabric and peeked out.
“No one is panicking,” he stated without emotion.
“I noticed that on the way here. I don’t know how they didn’t hear the castle being attacked or how no one has brought word out to the city to protect themselves from the Fae.” They hadn’t seen any Fae since they left the castle either.
You must go. Your job is not done, Greshta reminded Ace.
“The queen’s dead,” Ace blurted.
The white curtains fell back over the window, swaying until they settled, stained with red where he’d touched. “Did you kill her?” He cleared his throat.
“No.”
“Did you see her?”
“No.”
She’d dead as a doornail though. Dead. Dead. Dead, Sylik almost sang.
“Then how do you know?” His steps were heavy even without his boots as he began pacing the small room, carefully avoiding the pallet of blankets.
Ace shrugged and pointed at her head. “Gods talk.” She tilted her head watching him. “Can you hear the gods?”
His steps came to an abrupt stop. There was a silence that passed as Ace looked up at him while he thought. “No,” he finally said, wringing his hands together in front of him.
“Does your magic work?”
Shelby’s eyes went a little wide and crazy at that as if he hadn’t thought about the possibility. He took a deep breath and dropped his hands to his sides. Thick lashes lowered down to his cheeks as he closed his eyes, inhaling loudly.
A flash of orange light ignited from his palms, the light filling every corner of the room. Ace lifted a hand to shield her eyes as she squinted toward him. Where his magic was typically blue and pulsing it was replaced by orange sparks that flared off his palms into flames that ate up the length of his forearms. Wind picked up, shuffling the curtains behind him, making Ace’s hair whip around her. His eyes were still pressed closed.
“Shelby,” Ace said.
There are always consequences, Greshta said.
He didn’t answer and the orange flames grew brighter. Pink started to ignite at the base of his palms. It was getting hotter. Not his magic, but this...this holy fire. His tattered shirt blew against his chest.
“Shelby!” she shouted again.
He closed his palms and the fire disappeared. The wind calmed as he blinked at Ace. “Did I do it?”
Running her fingers through her hair, she tried to tame the mess of waves. If he was trying to create a wind storm he’d succeeded at that. “What were you trying to do?” She tried not to think too much about what Greshta had said moments ago.
“I wanted to make it brighter in here. Just a simple light spell.”
“Well, it was light. You were, uh, how do I put this?” She rubbed a hand at the back of her head. “Glowing. On fire. Flames...there were flames going up your arms.”
He stared down at his hands. “You can make an orange glowing sword and I have...fire palms?”
Ace had almost forgotten about that sword. Her orange eyes flicked down to her own hands. Could she even do that again? She thought about what those moments had felt like. She focused on the memory of the weight of the weapon in her hands.
Nothing.
Her hands didn’t heat or fill with a hilt. She didn’t suddenly become well aware of how to swing a sword. Nothing fucking happened.
“The room did get bright though. Try it again.” Ace urged. She was already squinting, preparing herself for whatever he would be trying next. “Give me shoes or something.”
He nodded, but his brows pinched together and he grimaced. Shelby wiped his hands against the rags of his shirt and held his arms back at his sides. He moved his lips ever so slightly and Ace swore he was saying ‘focus’ repeatedly. After a couple of seconds, flames burst out across his palms once more.
The room lit up with the fire and warmed just as it had last time. Ace’s heels could feel the heat too. There was no breeze to cool the flames within the small room. Sweat began to bead along her temple.
Holy fire, Greshta said.
Ace glared up at the gods. Obviously this was holy fire, they didn’t need to tell her that much. Magic tingled against the arches of her feet working its way over her toes and toward her ankles. That was a good sign.
He is powerful. But not in the same way as you, Sylik confirmed.
“That’s great but can you tell us if he has his magic still? Or say something useful?” she hissed toward the heavens. She didn’t have the patience for them to dance around the subject today.
“What?” Shelby said, the flames sputtering out. The warmth surrounding her feet disappeared, leaving her wiggling her toes against the cold floor.
“You have holy fire in you.” She sighed. “The gods were just reiterating that even though it’s very obvious. Please keep trying, I think I almost felt something. I didn’t mean to ruin your concentration.”
“Maybe my magic’s gone. Maybe the holy fire burned it all away.” He started pacing again. His fists opened and closed at his sides.
“We won’t know unless you try. Just concentrate. I promise I’ll be quiet. I can ignore the gods.”
She’s going to ignore us? Greshta scoffed. This ought to be good.
We can be quite hard to ignore, Sylik said.
The warlock isn’t going to be worth much if he can’t do magic without the room being utterly silent, Greshta continued.
Ace kept her mouth closed, letting the gods ramble without response. Shelby cupped his hands together this time, staring down at his fingertips. His power rippled out into small flames that danced along his skin. His eyes widened and the orange in his gaze glowed in response. The fire grew down his fingers and settled in his palms.
You better stay quiet or he will lose his concentration again. I would hate for us to rile you up somehow, Greshta began to tease.
Normally I would tell you to stop but I am quite entertained by this. The girl knew what she was doing was wrong and she did it anyway, Sylik said. Maybe she isn’t too unlike the queens in that way.
Ace’s breath caught in her throat. She forced herself to stay quiet but Sylik had found the raw wound and jabbed at it. She’d unbalanced nature like the queens. She’d broken the gods’ commandment.
The warmth was settling on Ace’s feet again. She held still looking down toward the ground. His magic danced across her thin socks, her feet growing hotter as the fire he held ate its way up his arms.
Shelby inhaled sharply and held his arms at his sides as the flames ran higher and brighter, nearing but not touching his cuffed sleeves. Their light was cast against the walls.
Ace’s feet grew heavier and between one blink and the next new shiny boots had appeared. She let out a long sigh of relief. Meeting Shelby’s stare, she could see it in his eyes too. The flames died out. He stared down at his hands.
“How do they feel?” he asked weakly.
“Like boots.” Ace held her foot up to show it off. “So you still have magic.”
Even if the boy isn’t very good at it. You’d think with the blood that runs through his veins he’d be more powerful but nope. That’s it, Greshta muttered. She must be in a sour mood.
“That’s good. Even if it’s different.” He rubbed a knuckle along his jaw. “Oh my gods.” Worry flooded his tone. “We need to tell my grandma. We should have gone right to her.” He was really pulling at his face now, hands rubbing over his features like he was trying to rip himself from his own skin.
Ace closed the space between them, standing on her tiptoes to pull his hands away from his face. Her grasp looked so much smaller compared to his large hands as she tried to hold his between hers.
“Hey,” she kept her voice low but stern, “We can go to your grandma’s. We can tell her. It’s going to be fine.”
“Okay.” He pulled his hands out of hers.
“Let’s give it till morning.”
Maybe by then, the Fae will have infected everyone with the Impelling, Sylik taunted.
“Morning? What if she can’t make it till morning?”
“What if we leave and run into the men who just destroyed the castle? We stay here. We regroup. We calm the fuck down.” What if they ran into the orange eyed man? What did he know? What would he do? Had he even been real?
Oh, now we’re questioning your sanity? Greshta laughed. We weren’t doing that when you were fighting for Shelby’s soul. How odd.
“If anything happens—”
“Nothing is going to happen.” Ace tried to sound confident but she knew deep down she couldn’t control that. Only the gods, these annoying chatty gods, could protect his grandma now.
“She’s only been on her own for about a billion years,” Ace started again with a small chuckle. “I’m sure she can survive the night without us.”
“She’s not that old,” Shelby muttered. “And if she heard you say that she would be very offended.”
Ace could already picture the old woman scowling. Maybe that’s where Shelby had gotten his ever-present frown from.
“But you know what I mean.”
Taking his time, Shelby made his way to the small pallet of blankets. Several of them were quite worn and one had about a thousand moth holes, but they were enough.
“How can we just sit here when what just happened happened ?” He lifted a blanket up and examined it. “You sleep with this?”
“I just...we need a moment.” She snatched the blanket out of his hand and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Do you want to talk more about it?”
“You mean about me dying,” he snapped back.
“I mean exactly that.”
“No. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Talking will—”
“Help?” He stood straighter, pinning her with his gaze. “Talking will suddenly make me feel better about being run through with a sword. With walking through holy fire. Will it make this,” he gestured between the two of them “suddenly better?”
“That’s not what I—”
“I can’t forgive you, Ace. Not now. Maybe not ever. You should have let me die. Now...now I’m this.” He peeled back the layers of his tattered shirt. “I’m a monster.” His scar was brilliant and bright against his dark skin.
Ace’s mouth dropped open. There was the sting, a pinprick really, of tears at the back of her eyes. She didn’t want to cry. She was too exhausted to cry. But the feeling, the devastation, the hurt...it was all there building up inside of her.
Is that what he thought of her? Did Shelby think she was a monster?
Ace stayed silent. She pulled the blanket around herself tighter and walked to the other side of the room. This was going to be a long quiet night. When she looked back up at him from across the room, his brows had relaxed, his eyes softening.
“Ace...” he whispered.
“Don’t worry about it.” She turned to face the wall.
He was right. She was a monster. She didn’t deserve his forgiveness.