Chapter Twenty
Bellamy
T he most interesting thing about war was choosing which side to fight for. Whichever one picked would say more about who they were than any misdeed or act of service. Laying down one’s life for a cause was something that took absolute conviction.
Well, normally it did.
Perhaps that was why portaling into a battle zone did not spark the kind of hatred it should. Because, as I landed in Grishel, I was met with the sight of fae warriors forced to fight for a cause—a realm—they likely did not fully believe in. Led by royals who cared little that they sent many of them to die today.
Hot air met my face, my armor still dirty from the battle yesterday, leaving the scent of warming blood to fester. The desert of Grishel was not a friendly place to those who were foreign to its scorching weather. Like the gold-clad soldiers ahead, I was not built for the heat. It made me slower than normal, a feeling that unsettled me as I portaled once more, landing in the center of the fray.
One thing that was immediately clear was that our side was losing. This was the largest battalion Betovere had sent, at least a thousand soldiers fighting under the fae banner.
Over the years, I had learned that my fae powers could be conjured from nothing, just like an Element. However, it took more out of me to create something from nothing, rather than utilize what was around me. Which was why, as I crafted shards of ice, my chest burned. Hundreds of them rose into the air, aiming for the waiting second line of defense in the distance.
Calling to the wind, I willed the ice to fly. At first, the fae there did not notice, all bearing witness to the fight that they smugly thought they would win. It was not until a shouted warning came from the single soldier that stood slightly ahead that they realized what was coming for them.
Many attempted to raise their shields, the thick golden protection far too heavy to lift in time. Ice tore through flesh, my aim true as over half of them fell with frozen weapons embedded into their faces.
And then I was moving once more, my sword of inky flames burning through armor and bone.
Noe appeared at my side momentarily, whips of hardened shadow wrapping around necks and beheading soldiers. She was strong, her magic able to form tangible objects in ways that many could not. Her father had cultivated and abused it in the hopes of forging his own weapon. But now, she wielded herself, not allowing anyone to control her ever again.
Her screams of fury were loud as she watched a Shifter rip off the arm of a demon, the female shrieking in agony before the fae sunk its teeth into her face. When Noe jumped onto the panther’s back, digging her fingers into its fur like claws and forcing her Moon magic into it, I let out a wicked and throaty chuckle. The Shifter was dead before it hit the ground.
The moment of distraction cost me, a blade skimming across my cheek before I could dodge it fully. My helmetless head reared back, the pain making me hiss through my teeth. I knew I forgot something.
An arrow found its new home in the fae’s eye just as I lifted my sword. For a moment she remained standing with her mouth agape, but then she crumpled, her body limp. I turned, seeing Lian behind me and feeling the rush of her Air power rumple my hair. She had dropped her bow, opting to use wind to send the arrows careening, never missing. She attributed her power to her uncanny ability to wield weapons, but I knew the truth. It was pure fury and dedication that got her where she was.
Instead of allowing myself to be distracted again, I summoned my flames, further deepening that inner ache as I brought a second sword to the air. Kicking my foot into the chest of a Golden Guard, the force of my blow sent him flying into one of his comrades. A nearby demon bent down, shoving a dagger into each of their foreheads.
Without hesitation, I moved on, cutting them down as quickly as I could. There was only so much I could manage with my fae abilities when my soldiers were in such close proximity to my enemies, which left me utilizing my sword far more than normal. Still, I pushed forward, dodging shadows, light, water, air, fire, and earth. Shifters also littered the space, most of them Multiples that could take on any form they would like. The benefit to that was their waning energy, the power it took to shift limiting them.
After slicing through seven more soldiers, I came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a familiar face. One I should not know. One that would not know me.
Farai Sibanda.
His dual-toned skin was just as striking as his white eyes, the frenzy within them palpable. As the scorching sun lit up the ivory parts of his face, making the distinction between the dark brown portions starker, the image of Asher’s smile as she told me how much she adored the Shifter and his ethereal beauty came to me. I wondered if, perhaps, one day Asher would forgive me for this cruelty. For stealing away a friend she had described with such detail to me in a Fire Lands cave.
I watched him now, his eyes frantically searching the sea of bodies as if he were seeking something—or someone—in particular. He looked up at me when I stepped towards him, and he raised his sword. When I braced myself, ready to end the life of a male who had cared for my soulmate, the fae stopped. The world stilled as we stared at one another, Farai’s eyes wide in recognition. And then I remembered that he had been there during the ball—he had seen me.
“She is safe.” I feared my shout would not be heard over the sounds of battle raging around us, but somehow, he heard. Farai seemed to think over my words, contemplating what he would do next if the furrowing of his brow and darting of his eyes was any indication.
Then I did something truly stupid. Something I could only blame on my foolish and obsessive heart.
I closed the distance between us, grabbed his arm, and portaled the Shifter away. When we landed in the dungeons of Pike, Farai fell to the ground, heaving violently.
“The pain of portaling will pass. I will be back for you soon.” He looked up at me in growing horror as shadows curled around me, the sight probably startling for someone who had never bore witness to Moon magic in action this way.
My feet moved from gray stone to orange sand, and I knew that even if I had done wrong by my realm, I had done right by Asher.
With Farai safe, I joined the fight once more, my back somehow meeting Damon’s as we fought off a perfectly paired group of Elements. They each used their power at just the right time, so in sync with one another that Damon and I were only able to defend ourselves in the beginning. When the Water summoned far more than he could handle on his own, I latched onto the opportunity, stealing it from the air.
“Duck, now!” Damon did not hesitate to follow the command, falling to the ground as I heated the water into a searing steam, shoving my hands forward and spinning in a circle. The water burned all four of them, bubbling the skin on their faces and hands. Their melting flesh permeated the air with a nauseating smell, especially as the sun bore down on us with unrelenting heat.
As the fae fell in agony, their screams mixing with those in battle and making my teeth grind, my eyes locked on a lone figure in the distance. Even without my fae sight I would have known him. He was so uncannily similar to me that it was like looking in a mirror, a reflection staring back at me.
Xavier Mounbetton kept a slow pace as he made his way to the battlefield, his shoulder-length black hair waving in the breeze, the color and waves the same as mine—as was the dimple on his cheek that appeared with his smile.
My resentment grew at the sight of him, at his grace and strength, at our likeness. Every bit of my sense left me, and I portaled again, the shadows bringing me mere feet away from my father.
King Xavier’s armor was not gold, but instead black with a golden shield on his chest that had the symbol of Eternity engraved into the center. His pale skin was taking on a pink hue, likely from the sun, though he would probably heal faster than he would burn.
His steps stilled when he noticed me, head cocking to the side. Just as mine did. I ground my teeth together at the sight.
“Well, she was right. We were foolish not to see it before.” His voice was deep, our accents mercifully different—nurture winning against nature. We were so close that I could make out the brown of his eyes, amusement crinkling them at the corners.
“I do not believe your inability to recognize me makes the list of your top ten idiocies, perhaps not even the top twenty.” Despite the pride I knew was there lurking beneath the calm facade, Xavier did not take my bait. Instead, his smile broadened.
“My son, you turned out so handsome. Tell me, what does Asher think of your looks? Does she find them…familiar?” All of my stoicism threatened to retreat at the sound of her name on his lips. I wanted to cut his tongue from his mouth so he could never again utter those two syllables. Then I would cut off his hands, penance for putting them on her time after time.
Patience tried and failed to win out, my body lighting up in flames—his flames. But Xavier moved quickly and without remorse, stealing them from my body and tripling them. With a wink, he formed the fire into a ball and threw it into the battle. I screamed, trying to call the flames back to me. Before I could, Xavier jumped onto me, shoving my face into the sand over and over. Grains of it filled my mouth and nose, and I was forced to push him off of me with a violent gust of wind.
My eyes burned from the tiny grains that seemed to slice into them, that pain worse than my aching throat and running nose. I willed water to rush out of them, flushing out the sand. When the burning stopped and my vision did not immediately return, panic almost loomed, threatening to overtake me. But the healing began, my fae heritage coming in handy as the battle before me slowly came back into view.
Fae and demons alike shouted as their bodies caught flame, the fire burning all it touched. I forced myself to my feet, stumbling at the dizziness that came from my head wound.
They needed my help. I had to move. I had to get to them. I had to—
This time, Xavier’s body barreled into mine so hard we flipped over one another, both of us hitting the sand hard enough to knock the wind from our lungs. Gasping, we looked at each other, neither of us willing to walk away until the other was dead.
Digging my fingers into the desert below, I closed my eyes and demanded obedience. A tremor came, small at first, then large enough to knock soldiers down. Damon did not hesitate, shadows surging towards the cloudless sky, crafting the demon sigil in the air. Screams of retreat echoed across the blazing terrain, those who could portal grabbing as many as they could in flashes of light and shadow—white and black.
The fae soldiers yelled, trying to make chase, cutting down as many as they could. My focus went back to Xavier, who was staring at the shifting sand below him. This time, it was I who smiled, watching with delight as the ground beneath him began to part.
“Goodbye, father. May Eternity damn you to the Underworld where you belong.”
He shouted, begging for someone to help. The remainder of the fae lined up in the distance charged forward, coming towards me. The group making chase halted, a commanding voice demanding they turn around and save their king.
Perhaps this was the future Pino had seen, maybe Asher would find my dead body here and sob over it. If my time had come, then at least I was able to take Xavier down with me. I thought of all the times he beat Asher into unconsciousness, each instance where he belittled her, and I roared with fury.
But just as he was about to sink fully, his screams becoming muffled by the sand, a puff of black appeared in the hole, a demon walking out of it. His mahogany hair and black eyes were the very same as that of the male whose painting hung on Adbeel’s wall in his office.
“Malcolm?” The baffled question came out as a whisper, my eyes growing wide. The lost prince, the one I had assumed was killed by the same royals who had slaughtered the lost princess. The very princess whose death Pino had shown me over a year ago. How had I not noticed it was him in Haven?
Malcom looked up, flashing me a smile before he grabbed onto Xavier and disappeared in another burst of shadows. The demon prince, the true one, just rescued our enemy.
But I did not have time to think, not when every single gold-clad soldier charged me, the mass of warriors quickly closing in. My mind swam with too much knowledge, too many secrets invading my senses.
“Cover your ears, My Prince.” Whipping around, I saw Bronagh, her furious gaze trained on the soldiers coming from the North. I did as she said, pressing my hands to my ears and willing a bubble of air to pocket me, acting as a sort of sound barrier.
I knew what was coming.
When the female opened her mouth and let out a piercing wail, not even my power could save me from nearly fainting from the sound. Her Sun magic lit up her eyes, the last of her light she possessed after losing Isa—after her magic morphed into something new and strange, the death of her daughter too great to bear.
As the banshee screamed, the sound shredded through the ears of the coming fae, every single one of them falling to the ground and convulsing. When their heads began bursting, blood and brain matter flying into the sky before raining back down, I reinforced my air shield. The scream still found its way through, bringing me to my knees and causing my vision to fade to black.
When her screams stopped, I knew that the last of the fae were dead. My shield dropped, the well of power in my chest aching for more, more, more. The silence was startling, emphasizing how hollow death had made the world. Not knowing how long we had before either of us fainted, I grabbed Bronagh’s leg and willed us to Pike.
We landed in a heap, both of us hitting the stone floor of the infirmary with a painful thud. Screams of the injured made me wince, my still-ringing ears dripping blood.
“I am so sorry, Bell. I did not know what to do when I realized you were not retreating.” I shook my head, trying to assuage some of Bronagh’s guilt, but not able to form words just yet. She had saved my life, and I was more than grateful.
“Ranbir, I found him!” Noe’s voice was far too loud and far too close, nearly making me heave with the pain. But soon, cold hands were on my ears, the pain intensifying before it ebbed, my entire body going limp as the Healing power filled me.
When Ranbir was done, Lian shoved her way towards me, leaning down and slapping me across the face. It stung, the force of it snapping my head to the right. A hush filled the room, even most of the sounds of pain fading at the sight of their prince being smacked.
“You fucking idiot! Winona would kill you herself if she knew what you did. How dare you. What do you think Asher would do if she found out we left you for dead on a battlefield? Do you think she would survive your death, you moronic prick?” Her tone was full of far more emotion than she likely wanted, the fury not masking the fear and sadness that threatened to break free.
If only she knew that I was dead either way.
“I deserved that,” I said with a groan of pain. Cyprus laughed from his position against the wall, a cut on his forehead slowly bleeding. Luca was beside him, as he always was, but his face was far more serious. He shook it, glaring my way. “Family is supposed to love unconditionally. This feels much more like barely tempered hatred.”
Lian let out a noise that sounded close to a growl, standing up straight again. “They often go hand-in-hand.”
When she offered me help up, I took it, the ache in my body pulling a groan up my throat. Ranbir had begun working on Bronagh, though not much could be done for magic depletion other than rest. I turned to what remained of my Trusted, trying to catch all of their gazes.
“We help the medics where we can and then meet in the dungeons in an hour.” They all seemed confused but, after realizing how serious I was, nodded and got to work.
Time passed far quicker than expected, the bells chiming at the top of every hour signaling that three had passed rather than one. But the medics needed aid desperately, and they always insisted that the soldiers had a higher chance of survival if I was there to encourage them.
When we finished, the seven of us made our way down the winding stairs to the bottom floor, dark and dank and a form of torture in itself. I led the way, taking them to the final cell, gripping the iron bars as I approached. Farai sat on the cot, armor still on but helmet removed. His white hair matched his eyes, both glowing in the light of the distant Sun magic.
“What the fuck is that?” Noe’s words came out as both angry and confused, her voice startling Farai. He stood, hand on his sword and eyes roaming over our group. I imagined he was quite scared, though he did not tremble.
“His name is Farai, and he is not to be harmed,” I ordered, my voice firm.
Lian scoffed, her annoyance at the sight of a fae guard likely there to mask her growing rage. The kind that stemmed from loss.
Farai bristled, moving closer to the bars, his narrowed eyes scrutinizing us. “Where is she, demon?”
Though I expected him to ask and was prepared with an answer, it was Luca who spoke up, his voice surprisingly soft. “She is not here.”
The Shifter did not back down, his growing upset putting everyone on edge. Luca and Cyprus likely knew of Asher’s friends, as they were tasked with watching over her. But Noe, Lian, Damon, and Ranbir probably did not recall the name, as Asher had kept much to herself.
It was her way.
“They have not announced her absence, so how is it you are aware she is not still in The Capital?” Cyprus asked, suspicion heavy in his tone. The Shifter leaned from one foot to the other, his face full of sorrow.
“King Xavier told me before we came with that creature. He said that if I saw Asher, I was to approach her and rescue her. I was the only one told about her supposed abduction.” Noe and Lian both seemed to realize at the same time who this fae was, their jaws going slack as they stared at him.
Luca leaned towards Ranbir and Damon, giving them a whispered explanation, hasty and frank. Noe moved for the lock, grabbing it as if she were going to free the fae, but Lian quickly slapped her hand away, scowling up at the Moon.
“What is wrong with you? Just because he is Ash’s friend does not mean he is any less of a liability. Bell should not have brought him here in the first place.”
The two of them argued back and forth, tossing insults at each other and me, though I paid them no mind. Farai and I were both staring the other down, my head subconsciously tilting to the side as I thought through what he had said. The suspicion that was undoubtedly there. Something we could use to our advantage.
“You do not believe the story told to you by the royals.” Not a question, but a statement. I uttered it with enough conviction to silence everyone, all eyes moving to the fae behind the bars. For a moment, he did not speak, his gaze feeling as if it might burn right through me. But then, he answered.
“I believe Ash was held captive by them long before she was taken by you.”
***
“Do we tell him?” Noe seemed the most inclined to inform Adbeel about Malcolm, her heart winning out just as it had in her argument to release Farai. She won the latter, securing Farai his own chambers and a promise to see Asher soon as long as he complied.
The others were on edge at the thought of him being there, but I tried to remind them that it was no different than the fae rescued in Haven. Farai did not trust the royals, nor did he support them. He bore witness to Asher’s mistreatment for years, though it was clear that he did not know the extent of her abuse.
“We must tread lightly. This is going to be upsetting for King Adbeel. Malcolm and Zaib have been believed to be dead for hundreds of years. To find out that his son not only survived but betrayed his crown? That would devastate anyone.” Luca’s reasoning was sound, as it normally was.
“Hold on. Do we actually think telling him is a good idea? He is already refusing to allow us to take an offensive approach. Why would he change his mind just to fight his son? Sure, Bellamy has been like a son to him, and for all Alemthian knows, he is, but this is Adbeel’s blood. I doubt he will let that go.”
Doing my best not to flinch at Lian’s words, I eyed Damon from across the way. But his eyes were trained on Noe, as usual. Poor male was never going to get over what happened between them.
Noe, with her golden-brown hair and cat-like hazel eyes, was predatorial and daunting to most, but to Damon, she was a force he desperately wished to submit to. He saw her in a way many before had not, and for that, I appreciated him. In fact, it was Noe who encouraged me to welcome him into our circle decades ago. But Noe would always turn down his advances, always tell him no, always draw that line after the last time. And Damon would never cross it.
For all her strength, Noe was also broken in a way I understood. She did not trust love or romantic relationships, nor did she envy or desire them. I could not fault her in that, not after the abuse she had suffered at the hands of her father—the one man in the world who was biologically meant to love her but did not. His warm blood on my hands and gasping gurgle in my ears was euphoric, as well as far too short-lived.
So I did not wish for her to submit to Damon, or anyone for that matter. Noe was happy as she was, and if the others understood that loneliness and being without a partner were two different things, then they would stop encouraging Damon.
“What do you think, Bellamy?” Cyprus was the embodiment of a neutral party as he spoke, his voice a monotone of perpetual impartiality. It was difficult to pretend as though I was not prepared to ignore it all and simply kill the filthy traitor.
“I think that it would be far easier to burn the entire world and start anew. I do not care for scheming or politics, and yet I constantly find myself at the center of both.” So easy to say in front of those I trusted with my entire being, but never something I would admit to anyone else. My greatest fault was that I was selfish and angry, I was too quick to fight and too slow to talk. And that was why Haven had been so good for me, a way to fight with kindness and peace rather than fists and blood. But Haven was gone now, the fae royals had seen to that.
“Seeing as killing off all of the innocents that Asher is trying to save would likely make her upset, I do not see you going that route.” Noe’s eyes were narrowed, her gaze accusatory. She knew me far too well.
“She is also one of the hottest females I have ever seen, so if you mess things up with her you would be a fool,” Lian added, much to my dismay. Noe reached around Damon, offering a high five to the Air. I glared at them both, wishing that I could be anywhere but here. When Cyprus nodded, I nearly lost it, my fists clenching so tight that I felt my nails dig into my skin.
Something inside of me needed to give, to bend before I snapped. I thought spending time with Asher would have instilled at least a modicum of peace within me, but our fight and her tears and that stupid fucking gold dress had only put me more on edge. Then the battle, my father, the burnout, Farai, Malcolm. It was all too much.
“I will tell Adbeel, and hopefully it sways him to fight. They turned his own son against him, so retribution should be his. Now, we must force him to claim it.”