Chapter Nine
CAIR
I flew harder than I’d ever flown before, my wings beating against the wind, the strain in my shoulders nothing compared to the ache in my chest. The dread in my heart. If only I hadn’t insisted on taking a detour, if we’d kept going straight, we’d have already reached his father’s homestead. Reached help . Zadok was a mage and, as of right this moment, my only hope.
I had to get him to his father. Whatever it took.
The distance that would have taken us a day to walk was mere hours through the skies, but it wasn’t fast enough. My mate’s heartbeat grew slower and slower with every mile, his breathing a shallow wheeze. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as I passed over the rift between the mainland and the outer island. I was losing him. I couldn’t lose him.
“Stay with me, little one,” I pleaded over the roaring winds. “We’re almost there.”
I forced my body to its limits and further, my lungs burning, my muscles crying out for a reprieve, but I paid them no heed. I scanned the lands, the fields upon fields of crops, the clusters of houses, and the towns that, in that second, meant nothing more to me than the wrong destination.
Where the fuck is it?
Defeat loomed with every passing second, my composure already frayed beyond all reason, my distress mounting. It had to be here. It had to be . I couldn’t acknowledge the possibility that I’d brought him all this way for nothing, that I’d wasted valuable time chasing a place that didn’t exist, a fantasy written in an old journal.No, it was real, it was where I’d find his father, and he’d be safe. I had to keep searching, even if my confidence was dwindling.
I couldn’t give up.
It wasn’t until I reached the farthest point of the island, retracing my course, that I noticed a contrasting patch of land from the corner of my eye. I’d almost missed it—a farmstead hidden by a forest of trees with rose-colored petals, secluded in its own little haven. I did a double take in case my desperation had conjured an illusion, but a trace of relief was rising in my stomach.
That was it.
Rosewood Creek.
I landed on solid ground, my ankles twinging with the force. The place seemed lived in, which was promising. There were horses in the stables, snorting and whinnying, and there were signs of a picnic in the grass by the flowerbeds, but there was no one around. The main house stood at the far end of a cobblestone path, so I marched ahead, aiming to knock on the door and praying that the one who greeted me on the other side was the Fae I sought.
Please be here.
Except, when I drew closer, there was a noise, a shuffle of claws across the dirt. My arms tightened around my bundle, hackles rising as a green-scaled wyvern pup bolted in front of me from seemingly nowhere. It snarled and bared its puny fangs, as terrifying as a kitten.
I still barely resisted the urge to snarl back.
“Leaf, stand down,” a bellowing voice called out just as its owner appeared from behind the stables. He looked to be a farmhand, from the simplicity of his attire and the tool in his hand, a creature shorter than I was, but with the bulk of a bear. Half ogre, half Fae if I had to guess, based on the tusks peeking through his bottom lip and the stunted black horns curling at the sides of his head. His strides faltered as his gaze landed on me—specifically my hair, then finally my wings.
I saw it the second he figured out who I was.
His demeanor turned hostile.
Eyes narrowed, the stranger looked down at the unconscious form in my arms for a moment before focusing on me again. The pitchfork in his hands tilted subtly in my direction. “What do you want?”
“Zadok Velarde,” I said. “Is he here?”
“What makes you think I’ll tell you that, princeling?”
I stepped forward, but the wyvern coughed a glob of purple fire at my feet in warning, rooting me in place. “I mean you no harm, I just?—”
“You royals aren’t welcome here,” he cut in, voice tinged with a growl of disdain. I understood his distrust, but didn’t have the patience to sympathize.
“This is my mate,” I carried on, hoping to appeal to even a sliver of his agreeable nature. “He’s dying, and I know Zadok can save him. Please .”
There was a glimmer of uncertainty in his expression, as if he wanted to send us— me —away, but his conscience wouldn’t let him. However, I couldn’t afford the luxury of hesitation. My rationality had vanished alongside my pride, it seemed. I was prepared to risk everything, to truly earn this creature’s ire by tearing up every brick until I found the mage who could help my mate. The wyvern was hardly a defense, but just as my wings ruffled and I shifted on my feet, priming myself to lunge, the beast trilled, facing away.
The front door of the farmhouse crept open.
Another male stepped outside.
“Flick?” he called out as he tentatively advanced, voice soft and almost musical. He stood a head taller than the other, slimmer, and his face a little more gaunt than I remembered. His shoulder-length curls were in disarray, and I caught the nervous twitch of his fingers.My heart skipped in gratitude to fate.
There was no denying that this was Luca’s father.
“ Cair ?” he said in shock, stopping dead in his tracks. His eyes went to my mate, widening. “How did you?—”
“Take in his scent,” I bid with urgency, striding forward despite Flick’s warning glare. “Trust me. You will want to save him.”
“I don’t?—”
“He is your son.”
Zadok frowned, already shaking his head in denial. He opened his mouth, presumably to argue, but we didn’t have the time.
My mate felt stone cold in my arms.
“I’m begging you,” I implored him. “He’s dying.”
Zadok drifted closer as if compelled, despite Flick’s insistence that he stay behind him. I bit my tongue hard to distract myself from the clench of possessiveness in my gut as the Fae reached out, tendrils of purple magic emanating from his palm. His nostrils flared, and I knew he sensed the tie in their blood the moment his pupils bled the same violet hue. He flinched backward, disoriented and incredulous.
“Rosemary?” he muttered under his breath, peering at me as if seeking confirmation. “My son?”
I nodded, and for a moment a haunted expression flitted over his face—memories resurfacing that he’d willed away, heartache and grief and pain—before he sobered. He snapped into focus, a sense of determination overtaking his previously timid manner. “Come inside.”
“Zad…”
“It’s alright, beloved,” he assured his companion, caressing his arm.
With a reluctant sigh and a wary glance in my direction, Flick moved aside, and when I passed, the wyvern glared, but otherwise didn’t react. I retracted my wings before ducking inside, following Zadok hastily through the winding corridor and up a short flight of stairs. He halted at the top, pointing to the end of the corridor. “Through that door is my workshop. Lay him out on top of the bed. I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Please hurry,” I said, uncaring if I sounded pathetic. Zadok nodded once in acknowledgment before dashing off in the opposite direction.
I did as instructed, shouldering open the door and barely taking in the room before positioning my mate carefully on the cotton sheets. He looked so small in the center of the bed, so still, too still, and I had never felt more useless. For all the training I had endured in my life—learning how to take a throne I did not want, being shown how to behave, how to act, how to protect and defend—there had never been a lesson on how to save a life.
I’d had no need of the knowledge as a youngling. Not with guards and a ward keeping me protected, and I had foolishly thought it would be enough to ensure his safety too. I had no skills in potions, and I could not wield healing magic. I was smart in the way of politics, I had the instincts to use myself as a shield, I had wit and fucking charm, but I didn’t know what to do as my mate lay dying .
Luca would know. He would devise a plan. He would read every damn book in this house and figure out what needed to be done. All I could do was touch him, hold him, rely on the will of others to help him, and it killed me to be so fucking idle. To just stand there and stare like a pitiful fool. There had to be something more I could do. Anything to ease his discomfort.
There was a fireplace off to the side, already piled with logs and scrunched-up parchment. I reluctantly left my mate to snatch the box of matches on the mantel, sticks scattering at my feet as my hands shook. With a frustrated growl, I finally managed to grip one between my fingers and spark a flame, crouching to set the paper alight.
Soon the fire crackled, heat seeping into the room, and I returned to the bed, perching beside Luca to take his small hand in mine and kiss his knuckles. The chill against my lips made my heart pound. He would warm up, I told myself, as I frantically cupped my hands around each of his and blew into the space, rubbing until the white disappeared from his fingertips. Once the lingering cold from the wind melted away under the fire’s glow, he would be okay. He was going to be okay.
He has to be .
Zadok hurried in moments later, a satchel in one hand and a tome in the other. He set them on his untidy workbench before unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt, rolling them halfway up his arms. I noticed twin, silvery scars across the insides of his wrists, but didn’t let my gaze linger. It wasn’t my business.
“When did you start noticing symptoms?” he said, striding over to the bed. He sank to one knee near my mate’s head, pressing two fingers against his neck, mouthing numbers as he stared at the clock on the wall.
“Several days ago,” I responded, the guilt of the admission bitter on my tongue. My eyes tracked Zadok’s every motion, my instincts clawing under the surface— he’s touching my vulnerable mate —but I stifled them. “It was gradual, and he waved it off as overexertion. He was more tired than usual, even taking his distaste of exercise into consideration. He ate less, had no interest in the sweet treats he would typically struggle to refuse, and eventually, he lost his enthusiasm altogether. He’s such a curious little creature, I should’ve realized sooner that this wasn’t just the consequences of the journey.”
A glimmer of pity flashed over Zadok’s face before he could school it. He said nothing, instead he focused on assessing every inch of my mate, flinching whenever I couldn’t restrain the warning growl in my throat. He checked his eyes, wavering at their striking sapphire blue color before switching to his chest, listening for any abnormal sounds. I bit the inside of my cheek as he examined his stomach, his probing fingers pausing below his ribs.
His brows creased. “May I lift his shirt?”
I nodded, but as soon as he did, my blood ran ice cold.
The reaper’s wound was no longer pink and healing as it had been only that morning when I’d removed the dressings. It was raw and festering, oozing yellow pus around the edges. How had I missed that rotten scent?
“Who did this?” Zadok rumbled, the snarl accompanying his words sounding unnatural in his tranquil voice.
“Reapers,” I answered mindlessly. “I—I don’t understand. The wound was healing. It didn’t look like that this morning, so why is it?—”
“Their weapon was poisoned,” he said, cold anger radiating from every word. “It must have had delayed properties. Whoever hired them wanted the poor boy to suffer. I’ll have to draw it out with magic, but you’ll need to control yourself. I can’t concentrate if I’m worrying over whether you’ll attack.”
My jaw clenched, and I wrapped both my hands around one of Luca’s, giving him a grounding squeeze before nodding my assent. I would bear the urge to rip out his throat. Only because I had just enough coherency to justify that his intentions were pure. That he was doing what I could not and saving him.
Zadok lowered his palms to an inch above the wound before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He began chanting, a quick flow of words I had never heard. The purple light returned, filling the space between them. The rotting flesh around the cut slowly knitted itself back together, black webs crawling up Zadok’s forearms and disappearing under his shirt. He was absorbing the poison into himself, taking my mate’s suffering, and that knowledge had the tension in my frame easing and my grip slackening.
Except, before the gash had the chance to heal completely, Zadok stopped with a gasp, a look of grave realization on his face.
His arms dropped to his sides like limp weights.
“Why are you stopping?” I implored. “He is almost healed, why?—”
“I recognize this poison…” His voice was barely above a whisper, almost emotionless. His gaze was distant. “It belongs to the king.”
My gaze snapped to him, eyes narrowing. “What?”
“This was your father.”
That was not possible. He would not risk incurring my wrath. It had been zealots, ordinary citizens who believed my mate was a threat to the future of the Fae. Zadok was mistaken, clearly clutching at straws for an answer, for someone to pin the blame on. An easy target. But… the expression on his face said otherwise…
It wasn’t uncertain or even outraged anymore. It was beaten and hollow, as if he’d already surrendered to an outcome he truly believed in.
The acrid stench of shame swarmed the air.
“How can you be sure?” I asked, though the answer was obvious.
To me, at least.
“Because I’m the one who created it,” he admitted, and it was as if the whole world had tilted on its axis. I didn’t know how to react, could hardly even muster up a breath, or anything that would show I had heard him.
My father truly was the culprit; the certainty was deafening, hitting me like falling bricks. Awareness swept through me next. He’d known for longer than we had who Luca was.He’d known we would come here, had counted on it. There was no other explanation for the cruel poetry of a son being poisoned by his own father’s creation.
The king wanted to kill my mate.
“You have to understand, I had no choice,” Zadok babbled, panic setting in, and whatever mask he had donned before began crumbling under the pressure. “It was one of his many tests to prove my loyalty, forcing me to go against my instincts and show I would do anything he asked. He made me demonstrate it before allowing me to lock it away, where I naively thought it would stay. It’s designed to make the victim believe they’re fine until the moment they’re not, and by that time it’s… it’s too late.”
Too late.
I wasn’t really listening, but I heard the words.
I didn’t understand what he meant. Too late for what?
“If it was caught early, my magic would have drawn it out, but it’s lodged too far in his bloodstream.” The mage began tearing at his hair, pacing, speaking nonsense. The scent of his anxiety was cloying, his rabbit heartbeat like a drum in my ears. I could barely hear what he was saying. “It’s all my fault. I did this. I-I killed my own son, what kind of monster…”
I tuned him out.
It didn’t matter who was to blame. We were wasting time. My mate was dying and he needed to be saved. Nothing else mattered. He had to be healed.
“Try again,” I said flatly, staring at the wound on Luca’s belly as it returned to its festering state. It was enough to snap Zadok out of his stupor.
“Your Highness, I?—”
The glare I sent him made him gulp. “Try. Again .”
Zadok did as I demanded, his chants once again echoing through the room, their sonorous tone rattling my very bones. He kept going until blood started to drip from his nose and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Once he broke away, he staggered backward, crashing into his workbench. “ Shit .”
He scrambled to right himself, swiping his arm across his face before clambering over to the bookshelf on the far wall, his movements unsteady. Deranged . I checked Luca’s pulse—still sluggish but faintly improving—as Zadok rifled and tore through the books until he found what he was looking for.
“There’s a spell…” he murmured as he flicked through the pages with shaking fingers. “It’s in the old language and I’ve only used it once. It will take a fraction of your life force and pass it over to him. It might not wake him up, but it should stall the poison, give me more time. I-It’s all I can think of. I-I don’t know what else to do.” He peered up at me, looking as discouraged and panic-stricken as I felt, and I knew this was the last resort.
It has to work.
“Do it,” I said without hesitation. At that moment, he could have asked me to spill every drop of blood in my body to save him, and I’d agree.
I rose at his insistence, pulling my shirt open so he could paint an invisible symbol onto my chest—a word he whispered under his breath. The lines glowed purple, showing an intricate arrow, and stung as if branding themselves into my skin before disappearing again. No mark, not even a faint redness, was left behind. He did the same for Luca, applying its replica over his breastbone before muttering under his breath and waiting for the magic to seep in. Finally, he stood between us, the book balanced in his hands as he repeated the incantation from the page, over and over and over, until the burn of the unseen rune became an aggravating pest burrowing under my flesh, taking root.
A fragment of my very being was ripped out. I felt it exiting through my parted lips, could swear I saw it floating through the air toward my mate. It wasn’t painful. Though even if it had been, I would have suffered it gladly.
Once the heat dissipated and Zadok ceased his repetition, I sagged forward, my hands on the edge of the bed. It was as if my spirit had fleetingly wilted, but the unexpectedly stable thump, thump, thump in my ears brought it hurtling back. I stood, and we observed my mate’s still prone form, both of us visibly relaxing at the sound of his heartbeat picking up strength and speed. It was slight, but it was there, quickening with every second that passed, stronger and stronger, regaining the liveliness it had lost, plus some…
I should have known it was too good to be true, too soon for me to feel relief.
My mate started convulsing.
“No, no, no,” Zadok muttered, more terrified than I had seen him.
It was all happening so fast, my senses overwhelmed with panic. I hadn’t even a chance to process before the seizing abruptly stopped.
As did his breath.
“What is going on? He’s not breathing. Why is he not…” I reached out to touch Luca’s hand, to hold him, to comfort him, but Zadok blocked my way. I was distantly aware that he called for Flick, his lover barging through the doorway behind me. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Luca, from his stillness.
“Hold him back,” Zadok commanded. “Don’t let go.”
Without hesitation, muscled arms circled my waist, trapping me in place.
I jerked in alarm.
“What are you?—”
Zadok’s fingers lit up with the crackle of electricity, making my skin prickle with goose bumps, before he slammed them against my mate’s chest.
Excruciating pain tore through our bond, and I saw red.
“Get off him,” I barked, lunging forward, prepared to rip the bastard limb from limb, but no matter how loud I howled or how hard I fought, the grip on me wouldn’t budge. I felt useless. Weak . “Let go of me!”
“Calm yourself,” the voice behind me growled, strained through gritted teeth. His hold on me grew tighter. I couldn’t breathe. “He’s trying to save him.”
No. He was hurting him. I could feel it, the agony ricocheting into me as if my body were a conductor. There was a smell of burning as my mate’s back arched off the bed with each shocking pulse of magic. A storm of emotions seethed within me—fear, desperation, an overwhelming urge to kill . I had to protect him. I’d already failed once, but I couldn’t fail again.
Not this time.
I was losing strength, my consciousness waning. I wanted to peel out of my skin, to escape the debilitating sensation, but I couldn’t . I had to break free, I had to unglamor my wings and carry him to safety. I had to… I had to…
It stopped.
The static. The dread. The torment.
Everything fell into an unnerving stillness.
I wilted, a shivering shell of the male I had been just moments ago. The raucous world had faded to a dull hum, the only sound a relentless rush of blood echoing in my ears. Zadok turned, his eyes wet and red-rimmed, and I couldn’t hear his voice, only the motion of his lips as they mouthed, “He’s gone.”
Gone?
I replayed the word in my head, again and again, but each time it sounded more and more nonsensical. Those strong arms that had confined me suddenly loosened. I stumbled forward.
“No,” I said, my vision bleeding purple at the edges, my fangs bared in a desperate attempt at intimidation. “Save him. It was your poison that did this. Only you can save him.”
Zadok eyelids shuttered, and he tentatively reached out. I rejected his offer of placation. “I… I did everything I could,” he said. No, no, no, that’s not true. It can’t be true. “The poison had already reached his heart.”
I shook my head. “He can’t. I can still feel him, he’s still in there.”
“I’m sorry.”
Those words were a knife in my chest. I couldn’t catch a breath with my heart hammering against my ribcage. I blinked, numb and dazed, barely aware of the pain shooting through my knees as I hit the floor. Distantly, there was a shuffle of footfalls before the door creaked closed behind me, but I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t shift my gaze from my mate. My sweet mate.
I scooped his limp body into my arms, cradled him, combed my fingers through his silken mane. My lips hovered over his lax mouth before closing the gap, drifting to his cold cheeks, his closed eyelids, kissing every inch of his face. His beautiful face. Our bond had dimmed, gradually fading to barely a phantom whisper. The emptiness already looming.
“Don’t leave me.” I rocked forward, pressing my nose to his throat and inhaling that familiar scent beneath the smoke. “You can’t leave me.”
It was all my fault.
He had warned me of his concerns, and I had reassured him that nothing would happen. I should have listened. I should have known what my father was capable of after everything he had already done. He was full of hatred, obsessed with purity, and yet I was so adamant that he wouldn’t come for my mate. For us . Why had I expected him to remain stoic? To grin and bear his bias like a fair leader for the sake of peace. I was an arrogant fool, and I’d paid the price.
I may as well have poured the poison down Luca’s throat myself.
Time ticked by, bringing no solace. I lowered Luca, my precious Luca, onto the bed, tucking him in and laying his arms over his belly. I could imagine he was in a deep and peaceful sleep, my longing to see his chest rise and fall feeding the hopeful mirage. With trembling fingers, I brushed his curls behind his ear, my touch trailing over the valley of his throat, to the dip above his pulse.
Still. Silent .
Another tear rolled down my cheek, and fury surged in my gut, the background fading into the abyss. I leaned over him, planting one last kiss on his cold temple. “You’ll have his head, my heart. I swear it.”
I stood, charging from the room, uncaring if the door shattered to pieces, ignoring the muffled, uneasy shouts in my ears. As soon as I reached the garden, my wings erupted from my back. My fangs were bared, cutting into my gums with how hard I bit down, the bitter taste of copper fueling my wrath. I lunged into the air, aiming higher and higher, past the trees, through the clouds, up and up until the land was nothing but a fog beneath me. Only then did I scream.
I screamed until my throat bled and my voice cracked. I screamed until the storm building in the sky retreated in fear. I wept. Hot tears branded their paths into my skin, and I embraced the sting. The king would pay for what he had done. The entire fucking realm would burn if it stood in my way.
My heart was broken. My soul was torn apart.
My mate… was dead.