Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Lia
M y days pass in darkness, marked only by the guards’ shift changes as I hear them go up and down the stairs and shuffle around in the hallway in boredom. They never talk to me. As predicted, I’m rarely left truly alone and the cell is checked frequently. I find it odd that they fear I’ll escape when I doubt my legs could even bear my own weight at the moment … even if I could stand in my tiny cage.
The Harbinger has appeared to me again several times, but it feels weak, weaker than it's ever been before. I can’t hear it when I’m awake and I find myself dreaming of the Black Lake often. I see it when I close my eyes. The Harbinger barely speaks a word there either, but it’s always with me.
I’m glad, but I don’t have it in me to examine why too closely.
The figure comes almost every day. They stay outside the bars and use their magick to make me wish for death.
The next time I’m actually dragged out of my cell, there are no whips and no hot coals, just the guards’ hard fists. By the time they throw me back in and lock the door, I can no longer move, and coherent thoughts are a hazy memory.
I know I’m asleep, but I’m sitting on the shore of the lake again. It’s familiar here now. Comforting. I pick up a black stone to throw it into the water, and it hisses at me.
‘Do not disturb the surface,’ it warns me. ‘Now that I’m ... out here, it mustn’t be touched.’
‘What will happen?’ I watch it curiously, its face so much like mine and yet other .
It shrugs. ‘No idea.’
It doesn’t speak again for several moments, and when it does, it tells me that it can feel us fading more every day. It sounds concerned, not just for itself but for me as well. We’re by ourselves, but we have each other. We’ll die, but we won’t be alone.
I’m urged to do something I haven’t done before. Sitting by the edge of the Black Lake, I put my arm around the Harbinger’s shoulders. It stiffens at first but then melts into me with a sigh, this thing I used to hate more even than Varrik. We’ve found an odd camaraderie with each other in here.
‘There were times when I yearned for this,’ it admits as it reciprocates, its arm snaking around my lower back.
‘When I kept you in the dark?’
It nods, and we sit in silence.
‘Can I trust you?’ I ask.
It doesn’t answer.
When I wake in my cold cell, I know my fingers are broken, and at least one of my wrists is as well. Everything hurts. I shift, and my teeth clench as more pain courses through me. Several of my ribs are broken, too, I think.
Jak comes sometime later for the first time in days. He brings water and drops it slowly past my cracked lips when the guard isn’t looking. I can’t see his face. He doesn’t heal me. I know he can’t, but that doesn’t stop me from silently begging him to help me … even if it’s to quietly smother me with a hand over my nose and mouth.
My hand drifts to his as he kneels beside me and brushes against his skin. It’s all I can manage. He looks torn. Devastated. He glances over his shoulder at the guard who’s leaning against the wall, watching us closely.
‘Fuck,’ Jak snarls, looking through the small bag he brought. ‘I must have dropped it.’
‘What?’ the guard says.
‘A small knife I use to cut herbs. It must be on the steps, but you should find it so we can make sure she’s not got it and hidden it somewhere.’
The guard pushes himself off the wall, mumbling something about feckless healers, and stomps off down the hall.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jak breathes. ‘They wouldn’t let me come. I told Varrik how bad it was.’
My dry lip curls with a small smile that he believed Varrik would listen to him, and I feel the skin tear.
‘I thought he’d … They’ve beaten you since I was here last.’ He lets out a sigh. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says again.
He puts his hand on my forehead, and the pain dulls enough that I can finally take a full breath as the biggest of my broken bones knit back together.
I let out a tiny sigh.
‘Best I can do for now,’ he whispers against my ear as he rises.
‘Why are you helping me?’ I rasp. ‘If anyone finds out …’
‘Because I’m a healer, and I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done. This is wrong.’
‘No more,’ I say as I close my eyes. ‘Don’t come back.’
He kneels beside me again, looking upset. ‘If I don’t, you’ll die down here.’
‘I know,’ I breathe. ‘It’s all right.’
The next time the door opens, I'm hauled out, and I hardly have the faculties to make a noise even though every part of my body screams. I’m afraid it’ll be more punishment, and I hope I die soon. But they don’t take me into the torture room. I'm carried unceremoniously up the stairs over a guard’s hard shoulder instead.
What’s left of me after my stint in the dungeon is dropped in a heap on the floor at Varrik’s feet. A weak cry is forced out of me as I hit the stones. I see Rikoth in the corner, making a show of smirking, but I can tell that even he’s shocked by the state I’m in. I try to stand, but all I can do is rise to my knees and sway precariously.
‘Have you learned your lesson, my little human?’ Varrik asks, eyes moving over my injuries with the same show of polite interest he’d give to an inquiry about my day.
He snaps his fingers at Rikoth, and I watch as my bruises disappear. I can still feel the pain. They're still there. But Varrik can’t see them now. No one can.
‘There. That’s better,’ he says with a smile as he stands in front of me.
He draws me to my feet, and a cloak is put around my bare shoulders. I stare past him, belatedly seeing a small child playing under his desk with tiny wooden soldiers, a little fae boy no more than three or four. He’s dressed in a green tunic with rabbits embroidered on the front pockets and has blond hair that’s a bit too long and flops over his forehead.
My heart sinks.
I’d hoped faelings would be too scarce for him to use like this nowadays, but he’s found one, and I know what comes next. My shoulders slump, and I look at the floor in front of me.
‘The cell was a punishment for your crimes against me and the rest of the fold,’ Varrik says, taking my chin and forcing me to look at him. ‘I hope it’s made you remember your place here too, but if it hasn’t …’
He glances back, following my gaze to the child. ‘Oh, you've noticed little Ryon. He was found not long ago at a camp beside a Gate not far from here. Unfortunately, all those who were traveling with him are dead, killed ... in an ambush.’ He shakes his head. ‘But those are the dangers of traveling the Dark Realms, as you well know.’
He likely had the entire camp killed on his orders to take the boy. That’s what he does. Like me and many of the other Skilled here, Varrik helped his parents to their deaths and spun a tale so that they don’t know their new father was the cause. I seethe in silence and am surprised I have the strength.
‘Ryon,’ he calls.
The little fae boy trots over, looking up at Varrik adoringly … the way that I used to when I was a child, I'm sure. He ruffles the boy's floppy hair, and then he stares at me, flexing his fingers lightly over the boy's head meaningfully.
‘Well, Thalia? Do you remember your place here?’
I let my eyes close. ‘I'll do anything you want me to do,’ I whisper in defeat.
‘Excellent! You go back to your new toys now, Ryon. Good boy.’
I feel my knees weaken, and I sink to the floor at Varrik’s feet. I’ve pledged myself to the fae lord once more. Hopelessness courses through me. He gazes down at me dispassionately before motioning to the guard.
‘Take her to her room. Have the healer look at her.’
I’m picked up roughly and thrown over a burly shoulder again. At my pained cry, Varrik’s eyes snap to his guard.
‘I hear another sound out of her, and I’ll flay you alive!’
The guard nods with scared eyes and rushes to change the way he’s holding me, opting to cradle me like a babe. He takes me to my room and puts me on the bed. He’s taken Varrik’s words to heart because he lowers me down gently and even covers me with the blanket, though it does little to protect me from the chill of the room. He takes the cloak from me, though. I suppose he’s been ordered to.
When I find myself alone a moment later, I give the room a cursory glance. It’s dustier than it was however many days ago. Colder too, and the bed feels a bit damp. But it's a thousand times better than the cell.
I drift into a fitful sleep punctuated by dark visions that startle me awake and make me remember the past few days of misery and suffering.
When I wake properly sometime later, I find Jak beside me. I watch him, not moving, as he uncovers me carefully, and then his mouth drops open in surprise.
‘You’re healed! Who …’
I let out a soft snort. ‘You’ll need to speak to Rikoth.’
His puzzled eyes find mine, and realization dawns. ‘I’m just a lower healer. I’m not permitted.’
‘It’s probably for the best.’
Jak’s eyes narrow. ‘Find Rikoth and tell him I need to see the Harbinger’s true condition,’ he orders the guard over his shoulder.
‘I'm to stay here,’ the guard mutters.
‘What do you think is going to happen?’ Jak spits. ‘This human is barely alive. What danger could I possibly be in? If she dies, I’m going to make sure Varrik knows it’s because of you.’
The guard smirks, not even looking at me. ‘She looks fine to me.’
Jak just fixes him with a hard stare, and the guard finally gives him a long-suffering look that promises a beating if he ever catches the young healer alone outside the keep.
‘Fine,’ he grinds out, ‘but be it on your head if she harms you, healer .’
He opens the door and leaves. Jak doesn’t say anything; he just settles on the bed next to me to wait.
A few minutes later, his gasp startles me. I look down, wincing at how I truly look in the light. I hadn’t thought it was so bad, but I have to avert my eyes as my stomach begins to protest. Jak’s mouth opens and closes a few times. His eyes now avoid mine. I can see that he's more than a little disturbed by the condition that I'm in.
‘Never healed anyone who’s come out of the dungeon before?’ I try to joke.
He jumps a little as if he didn't expect that.
‘I couldn’t see properly down there. I knew they’d tortured you … but I didn’t realize it was as bad as this.’
He looks away again. ‘I'm sorry for not helping you, for leaving you down there. I should have?—’
‘What should you have done?’ I pat his hand. ‘You did all you were able to, and there’s nothing you could have done about the rest of it. Don’t torment yourself. Besides, if not for you, I wouldn’t be alive,’ I say quietly.
He stares down at me. ‘I know what you did,’ he finally says. ‘I was there when the keep went up in flames. I knew he was angry and that he sent many to search for you. I thought you deserved to be punished for it. Most who were here then believe the same, but I didn't think he'd …’ He can't say the words. ‘Varrik saved me, you know? He saved most of us. From death and harm, from dark places, from slavers and monsters.’
He turns and sits on the edge of the bed, staring out the window, looking conflicted.
I know better than to say anything. If Jak’s zeal is going to diminish, it has to on its own just as mine did when I began to see the truths behind Varrik’s lies. Instead, I try to shift in the bed to get more comfortable, but my body revolts, and I must let out a sound because he turns around with concern on his face.
‘I was ordered not to heal you again,’ he says quietly, his jaw ticking. ‘After I fixed your ribs in the dungeon … They’ll be able to tell from the magick on you if I do more.’
He shakes his head, closing his eyes, clearly at war with himself.
‘It's all right,’ I say. ‘I already feel better.’ I pat his hand again. ‘This isn't the first time, and I didn’t have your help at all before.’
I let out a sigh and it turns into a wracking cough. The rattle I’ve been noticing in my chest over the past few days has begun to worry even me and he frowns. He puts a hand on my body.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask.
‘I’m allowed to fix something that could kill you. I’ll tell them it was a serious lung malady if I’m asked. It’s not truly a falsehood. That cough will get much worse.’
I feel the rush of magick, and his hands warm above my skin. I grunt as I feel my lungs tingle. The bruises and scrapes and everything else remain, but my lungs are clear, and breathing at least no longer hurts.
‘I can't do any more than that,’ he whispers.
‘You'll be punished if you do,’ I agree. ‘I know you don’t think you helped, Jak, but, truly, I survived because of you.’ I hesitate. ‘And so did the Harbinger. It won’t forget.’
He lets out a soft chuckle. ‘Is that a good thing?’
I grin and close my eyes. ‘Time will tell.’
The door opens, and I assume it's a guard until I hear a low laugh, and my body stiffens. It's not Grith, and for that, I'm grateful, but Rikoth is almost as bad.
‘Get out,’ he says to Jak, who gives my hand a final squeeze where Rikoth can’t see and leaves the room quickly.
Rikoth comes and stands over me. I don't bother to cover myself. He's seen my body countless times. It doesn't stop his eyes from moving over it, though. They rest on the worst of the bruising, and his lips turn upward. There’s nothing in his gaze but malice and revulsion.
‘Get up,’ he orders. ‘Gods, you stink. Haven’t you bathed since you were released?’
Remembering Ryon, Varrik’s unknowing hostage, I ignore his comments and attempt to do as I’m told. I struggle to sit up and move my legs slowly over the side of the bed to stand. I have to hold on to the bed itself for a moment, but now that I’ve rested and am a little bit healed, it's not impossible.
‘Stand in front of the mirror.’
I shuffle slowly across the room to the large, gilt looking-glass in the corner. Rikoth’s imposing figure stands behind me, and I watch his eyes travel over the whip marks, the burns, and all the bruises and cuts that mar my skin.
‘They really did a number on you down there,’ he murmurs, his eyes locked onto mine in the mirror. ‘Have you been given the news? Did the guard fill you in? Tell you what is going to happen next?’
I shake my head, dread coiling inside me.
‘I’m the elite you've been given to,’ Rikoth sneers, his expression morphing into one of pure disgust.
‘Congratulations to the both of us,’ he spits. ‘Gods only know how I'm going to lie with you. But it’s been ordered, so I'll find a way to get you with child as Varrik wishes.’
I stare at the floor. ‘When?’ I ask quietly.
He shrugs. ‘When Varrik has decided you've truly suffered enough and lets that boy heal you properly? When I can stomach it? Who’s to say?’
I'm surprised by his words. I would have thought he wouldn't have bothered to wait, just thrown me on the bed and got on with it. But a stay of execution is a stay of execution. I don’t question it.
He tilts his head, staring at my body impersonally. ‘I suppose if I pretend you're not human, there is a certain prettiness about you.’ He looks vaguely sick as his gaze moves away from me. ‘Anyway, it's only until you’re bred.’ His eyes narrow. ‘In case you’re thinking of using any human tricks to stop my seed from doing the job, consider this ...’
I look up at him. Human tricks? I wonder what he imagines those to be.
‘Varrik has told me that if you aren’t breeding within one moon,’ he continues, ‘you’ll be staked out in the hall, and each of the male elites, as well as the higher-level Skilled, will be allowed to seed you to increase the chances of it taking root.’
I shiver at the threat. ‘I won’t use any tricks,’ I whisper.
‘At least I won’t have to contend with that sick cunt Grith watching me rut you,’ he mutters with a snort, half to himself. ‘He definitely would have.’
I don’t ask, but he sees the question in my eyes.
‘He died on a mission,’ he stuns me by elaborating with a smirk. ‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d orchestrated it somehow. You hated him more than I did, I think. But you’re too weak under the binding.’
Almost as an afterthought, he gives a snap of his fingers. I watch as all of my injuries melt away.
‘There,’ he says. ‘Now you don’t look as pitiful as you really are. You’re welcome.’
He goes to the door, but as he opens it to leave, he turns back and looks at me, still standing in front of the mirror.
‘When I come to you, you will be unclothed with your hair hiding your ears so that I can at least pretend I’m fucking a fae girl. And be bent over either the bed or the table. I'll let you choose which, but I don’t want to see your face.’
With that, he leaves, and I stare at my reflection for a few minutes.
I look normal. Unharmed. I heave a sigh. I’m alive. I outlasted the dungeon once more. Now, I just have to survive Varrik’s new plans for me until I can escape again.
I consider the binding, wondering what’s different about this one and if it’ll slowly stop working as the ones before it did. Once the Harbinger is no longer subdued and my injuries have been healed, leaving this place will be possible, especially if it can open Varrik’s Gate.
I allow myself a small grin. At least I won’t have to worry about Grith anymore. The knowledge that I'll never see him again, never have to endure his words, touches, or fists, is at least a little bit heartening after learning what’s in store for me next.
As I walk slowly back to bed, I notice there's water and some kind of thin soup on the table. Although my stomach revolts at the thought of eating anything, I know that I need to regain my strength, or I won’t be able to escape even if I do get the chance. So, I drink the water, and I slurp the cold bowl of slimy broth that tastes half rancid, hoping it doesn’t make me ill.
Afterward, I give my body a cursory wash in the ewer of stale water on the washstand by the mirror to get the worst of the dungeon’s grime and stink off me before I get back into my cold bed with its one thin blanket. I was right in the dungeon. The weather has turned colder, and the hearth isn’t lit. I think warm thoughts as a breeze comes through the window. There’s no glass in it, only metal bars, and I think it may even be colder up here than it was in my cell.
I need to come up with a plan to escape this place if only so I don’t freeze in this room . But the Harbinger was right. I need to kill Varrik first, and this time I need to make it stick.
When I was a child, he told me he made his Skilled for the protection of all. He made me happy to use the Harbinger with hollow words and lies, with praise and small rewards. I knew a few months before I escaped that what he was doing wasn’t for the reasons he said, but I didn’t know the worst of him.
I still don’t. Not really. But when the Harbinger spoke of Varrik stealing it, I began to consider what I knew of the Skilled. Varrik’s creation of them … us, has always been a secret he holds close. He’s alluded to magick and alchemy, but that’s not the whole truth. He thieved from the Dark Realms. He made his Skilled with what he took. He stole from the very fabric of it. That’s why it’s coming for him.
Maybe I could leave without killing him if he’s going to die anyway, but he’s a slippery cunt. He might escape his comeuppance somehow. If anyone could, it would be him. And I want to stop him from hurting any more innocents. That’s always been my goal, and the Harbinger was right about that too. It should include the fae he brought here who are in danger now if the Harbinger is correct. None of this is their fault.
I wonder at its altruism where the Skilled are concerned. Is it just pretending? Does it merely want to ensure its own personal revenge for what Varrik has done by shifting my focus so I’m not in control of it properly when the time comes? I suppose that so long as he’s dead, it doesn’t matter. At least our desires are beginning to align. That makes things easier. We won’t be fighting each other once this binding is gone. I will use it though I vowed not to. It’s the only way.
The Harbinger isn’t what I thought it was, and soon Varrik and the others will see what both of us are truly capable of.
Kallum
My plan worked. As soon as Varrik got word that one of his Skilled could become fully invisible, I was called to him and fed a story about how I’d always had a place with him and that, finally, I was ready to become one of his elite.
I pretend to believe everything he says, pretend the love I used to feel for him when I was a foolish boy with no one else. I look at him in front of me, his cold eyes level with my own, and I don’t know how I ever thought them warm. He doesn’t care about any of us. Why was I so adamant that he did?
I wonder about this as he drones on about my new duties and how amazing everything will be, and I begin to wonder if my skill is more than I thought it was. Everyone here, over three hundred fae, so I learned recently, loves Varrik over all others. But, no matter what he’s done for them, it doesn’t make any sense.
Unless one of Varrik’s skills is that he’s able to make everyone care for him.
The thought floors me, but it makes sense. When we left the fold to find the Harbinger, we wanted more than anything to return, but Varrik’s desires were important to us, so we kept going. After a few weeks in the Wilds, that desire diminished. I remember only wanting to come back because it was familiar here.
When Varrik dismisses me, I wander through the keep visibly with the excuse of wanting to explore my new home if anyone asks why I’m skulking around.
It doesn’t take long for me to find her. Grey said he smelled her in the elites’ wing when he was here. There are guards everywhere, but when I turn the corner, their ranks thin out substantially, so it’s not difficult to find a place to disappear.
Incorporeal as well, I sink through the walls easily now that the wards let me into the keep, and I search for the one that’s hers, hoping she’s there.
I find her in the fifth room I enter, but I don’t let her know I’ve come. I’ll need to explain to her that her capture was all Dane and not me, but she’ll be upset before I can tell her everything, and I’d rather make sure she’s all right first.
I watch her with rapt fascination and intense relief. I’m hardly able to tear my eyes from her as she gets ready for bed. I frown at her slow and hesitant movements, but she looks well. Perhaps she’s simply tired.
My heart swells. Gods, I've missed her.
I approach the bed only after her breath has evened out, looking down at her and finally relaxing in a way that I haven't since we came back.
She’s safe.
I take her in. Her hair looks freshly brushed and her skin is bright with a healthy color to it. The room is chilly, though, and I frown that there’s no fire in the grate. It’s definitely cold enough for one, but she doesn’t seem bothered by the temperature. I see a tray on the table, so I know that the servants are coming in to take care of her needs. Perhaps she’s told them she doesn’t want a fire.
I settle onto the bed next to her slumbering form, in no hurry to leave her again now that she’s in front of me once more.
The past few days have been going just as I planned. At practice in the arena, I showed off some of my new skills, hoping that no one else here could do what I could, banking on the fact that I was always told invisibility was a rare gift. I wanted everyone to see it so that it would get back to Varrik quickly. And it did.
I think again about my meeting with the fae lord. My first mission is this afternoon with two of the other elites and, I believe, Dane as well. I’d rather stay with Lia, but I’ll have to go through the motions now that I’m in Varrik’s sights. He’ll expect that my loyalty be only for him, so that’s what I need to give the appearance of. Unfortunately, that means less time with my human today. At least I can come and go from the keep as I like now, so finding some stolen hours with her shouldn’t be a problem.
Not able to help myself, I lean over her and brush my fingers against her face. Her brow furrows in sleep. I stare at her for a long time, just glad that she's all right and that I was wrong. Varrik didn't intend to harm her at all. It might be wishful thinking, but perhaps things will go back to the way they were before. Perhaps this place will be better for her now that Grith is dead.
I smile wide at the thought of him rotting in some hole on some dead world. I’m still angry at Grey for taking my human, but he's gone a long way to making it up to me ... and her. I still haven't heard the whole story of Grith’s demise, but I can't wait to.
I still have some time before I need to present myself for the mission, so I meander around the room while my human sleeps, taking in the meager furniture, the lone cup and bowl. Has Varrik been keeping her in this room the whole time, I wonder? I go to the window and look out. I can see the house we've been given on the adjacent hill from my vantage point. I won't be able to actually look into her room, but at least I know which one is hers now, so when I stare out of my own window, I know where to look.
Not wanting to leave yet, I decide to spend a bit of time reacquainting myself with her. I get on the bed slowly and very carefully so as not to disturb her. It feels as if it's been so much longer than two weeks since I've seen her. All I want to do is gather her up in my arms and remind us both of how our bodies feel pressed together.
A sly smile drifts across my face as I remember some of the things I did with her in Rondorai when we were stuck in that room for days, some of the ideas I had that she seemed amenable to.
I almost can't help myself as one hand drifts under the cover next to her, sliding down her body gently until I find the place between her thighs. I touch her softly, watching her face and sending out feelers towards her mind. I’d hate to do something she doesn’t want, but I'd also rather she stays sleeping for this simply because I now don’t have time for the conversation we need to have.
I go invisible completely in case she opens her eyes and relax in the knowledge that she’ll have no idea that I'm here now even if she does wake up.
My fingers play with her folds gently, easing further down to probe her channel lightly. I allow myself a small sigh as I feel her getting wetter by the second.
She shifts with a sleepy moan, her legs widening, and I grin. I can sense that she's having a delicious dream while I'm doing this to her. I slide under the covers and position my face between her legs, easing her a little bit wider as I begin to lick very slow, long strokes up her slit the way I know she likes it.
Her body moves, her hips undulating on a moan followed by a pained cry that I don't understand. So, I go a little gentler, not needing her climax to be earth-shattering. I’m content for this one to be merely refreshing. A few moments later, she lets out an audible whimper, and her legs shake. Her eyes open on a gasp, and I feel her mind shift into consciousness. I freeze, flattening myself to the bed and listening to her heavy breaths.
I move down the bed very slowly, climbing out from underneath the sheet at the bottom where she hopefully won't notice my movements. I stand up, watching her as she stays in the bed, her eyes closing again. The blanket is now pushed down to give me an incredible view of her perfect breasts and hard nipples.
I ache to suckle them, but, for now, I content myself with standing close by and fisting my hard cock slowly as my fingertips lightly brush over the tips of her tits gently. Her eyes drift open again, but it doesn’t matter. She can't see me.
I grit my teeth to keep silent as I spill my seed onto the floor beside the bed and move the small rug to cover the evidence that isn't invisible.
Afterward, I put myself away and watch her for a bit longer, wondering if I should tell her that I'm here, but the truth is I’m afraid she won't want to see me. Despite the fact that nothing bad has happened the way she thought it would, the betrayal would have hit her hard. I do want to explain, but now isn’t the time. She’s asleep again anyway.
I delve into my pocket and pull out a small yellow flower. I leave it beside her bed on the small table and place a gentle kiss on her forehead.
I hear someone walking down the corridor, and I go to the door. A key is thrust into the lock, and it opens. At the threshold is a servant bringing water and a meal. She enters the room with a guard, and I realize belatedly that Lia’s still on the bed uncovered. I curse myself for not pulling the sheet over her again as I see the guard’s eyes slowly take in her state.
The servant leaves without a word, but the young guard lingers. He glances behind him a little nervously, and my fists clench as I watch him walk over to the bed and ogle my female.
He snorts softly and licks his lips. ‘Well, you might be a filthy human, but I wouldn’t say no,’ he chuckles, leaving her as she is and withdrawing from the room.
I follow him, memorizing his face and silently promising retribution.
Unfortunately, there’s no time to do it now. I need to meet with the others and then go wherever our first mission together will take us.
I wait until I'm in a deserted corridor before I become corporeal again. Then, I make my way into the main hall where I know Varrik’s personal Gate is. I'm not sure why, but everyone says this is the one that’s usually used now, not the one that's located just over the hill from the new village.
When I get into the room, Varrik is nowhere to be found, but Dane is there, as are Rikoth and Vern. I stifle my sneer. No Fiana yet.
Good.
I give Dane and the others the barest of greetings, hardly even looking at Dane because I'm still angry about what he's done, even if Lia does seem to be all right and is at least safer here than in the Wilds.
His lips purse a little, but he doesn't say anything. As if on command, the small Gate opens in front of us.
‘Come on.’
‘Where are we going? I ask.
Dane glances back at me. ‘Just do as you're told for once, Kallum.’
He turns away before he can see my answering sneer.
I follow the three of them through the Breach, and we appear in a forest not unlike the one that we found ourselves in after we left Rondorai. But there’s something odd about this one. The leaves on the trees here are the wrong color. They're darker. Muted in some odd way.
I immediately focus, putting away my anger and all the other feelings pertaining to the cunts in front of me. My hand drifts to the pommel of my sword as I watch and listen, waiting for an ambush I can feel coming.
But no one appears to attack us.
I can sense that the others are feeling the same as I am, though, and they’re similarly looking around in anticipation.
‘What circle is this? What are we here for?’ I whisper.
‘I haven't been told,’ Dane mutters, gesturing to Rikoth and Vern, who are in front of us and seem to know what we’re doing here.
His eyes narrow at the two fae ahead. ‘Keep your eyes open and don’t turn your back on them,’ he murmurs to me.
I nod as we follow them down a wide, wooded path, keeping my gaze moving for dangers. Whatever my feelings for Dane at the moment, he’s still my friend, my brother, and I will protect him with my life as I know he will me.
We don’t have to go far before we’re met with a tall stone wall almost entirely covered in ivy.
Vern turns to me with a derisive look on his face. ‘Well? Go on then.’
I shrug. ‘It’s a wall of ivy. What the fuck do you want me to do?’
‘Use your skill, idiot. Go through, find the entrance, and open it for us.’
I frown, deciding I might kill him later for calling me an idiot. ‘What's behind it?’
He sniffs and then shrugs. ‘Fuck knows, but I'd suggest you go invisible first, Dreg.’
I roll my eyes at the slur that isn’t even true anymore. But I do what he says, albeit with a smirk and a rude gesture, passing through the thick wall in front of us.
I find myself in a square courtyard. At first, I don't see a way in or out; everything is so overgrown. As I look closer at my surroundings, I can see the remnants of swords and armor. Sun-bleached bones too. There was a battle here a long time ago.
I scout around the perimeter of the wall, not finding what I’m looking for at first. Then, I notice the tell-tale gleam of steel. I rip some of the ivy away from the stones, and I find an oak door that, at first glance, appears to have withstood the test of time, but when I grab the latch, it disintegrates in my hands. I push it open as best I can though it crumbles as I move it and slip through to walk around the outside of the wall to where the others are still waiting for me.
‘Follow the wall to the right,’ I say, relishing the way they all jump at my voice because I still can’t be seen.
Rikoth murmurs something about me being a cunt, and I let him hear my answering chuckle as I pass back through the wall to meet them on the other side. I watch them enter through the door that I've opened, but I stay out of sight, and I don’t let any of them know where I am.
‘Are you here?’ Dane murmurs from next to me quietly so the others in front don’t hear him.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I'll be close by.’
‘Good. It might be best if you remain unseen.’
‘What is this place?’ I ask again. ‘It looks very old.’
‘I wasn't lying before. I don't know. I haven't been told much. I'm not trusted completely yet.’
‘We were gone a long time,’ I murmur, glad he can’t see my eyes rolling.
He nods again.
‘I saw the Harbinger.’ I don't know why I'm telling him, especially not now. It’s not as if he’ll care anyway.
But he stiffens.
Interesting.
‘When? Where is she?’
‘Earlier. She didn’t see me. Her room is where the other elites have their chambers.’
He doesn’t say anything else, and we traipse across the green courtyard, trying to skirt the remains of the bodies of those who fell here long ago.
‘These are human,’ Dane murmurs to me as he glances down at a skull. ‘Fae heads are a slightly different shape. I wonder what they were doing out in the Dark Realms so long ago?’
I glance up at the main castle in front of us, which must have been very grand once, with its ramparts and the high towers, which have long since fallen in.
‘Prospering, it looks like,’ I murmur.
At the main door of what must have once been the main hall, Vern hesitates. He looks back, takes a breath, and pushes it open. It falls off its hinges, banging down with a thud that echoes through the whole place.
‘Well done,’ Rikoth scoffs. ‘Scale the wall and scream that we’re here, why don’t you?’
Vern’s eyes narrow at him, but Rikoth turns to Dane, ignoring the other elite.
‘Do you sense anything? Conjures? Creatures? Traps?’
Dane closes his eyes for a moment. ‘No. There's something, but it's old. Weak. We should be safe enough so long as we keep our wits about us.’
Rikoth nods, and he and Vern go inside first. Dane conjures white light, a large ball of it that floats above our heads and follows us.
There’s scuffling as we make our way inside, but Dane shakes his head at the others’ inquiring looks.
‘Rats and the like,’ he murmurs. ‘Stay in the light, though. We all know the dangers that lurk in the shadows in the Dark Realms.’
We get to a staircase.
‘We need to go up there,’ Rikoth murmurs. ‘I'll go first.’
I’m surprised that he’s willing to. I’d thought him and the other elites a bit pampered and likely cowardly, but I’m reminded that underestimating them could be a fatal mistake.
Dane stops Rikoth before he can begin the ascent. ‘I have the light, and if there's anything up there, you might need a conjurer at the fore.’
Rikoth looks a little annoyed but steps aside.
I bring up the rear, staying in my invisible form. We go up the small winding staircase, skipping the broken steps. There are just enough intact to get to the next floor—what's left of it.
‘Stay to the side,’ Dane murmurs. ‘The beams are rotten through.’
We skirt around the edges of the floor, listening to it creak beneath us. Dane waves a hand, and it stops making noises. I assume he's reinforced the boards with magick somehow.
‘What are we looking for?’ Dane says, sounding annoyed that he’s still in the dark about what we’re doing here.
‘A box.’
Dane lets out a harsh breath. ‘What does it look like?’
‘Like a Gate box a bit.’ Rikoth shrugs. ‘The last one I saw was made of iron, so perhaps it'll be the same.’
Off to the side is a bed chamber, and we enter it slowly. We start looking around the room, but there's not much here that's survived the elements, as the roof has caved in at some point over the last few hundred years. Beyond it, though, there’s a small anteroom with a collapsed bed by one wall.
I follow the others, staying a few steps behind and I think I hear a noise at my back but when I turn around, there's nothing there. My eyes narrow. Something is stalking us through the ruins.
‘Here!’ Rikoth says, making his way to a cabinet in the corner of the room. ‘It’s locked.’
Vern uses his strength to tear it open when Rikoth can’t get the door to budge. Considering the rest of the place, it’s in remarkably good condition, I think as I give it a cursory scan. But I stay by the doorway to watch for whatever’s lurking out there.
Inside the cupboard on a shelf is a small box.
‘I think we’ve found it,’ Rikoth murmurs.
‘What's in it?’ Dane asks.
‘Not your business,’ Vern sneers.
Dane shrugs.
‘We should get out of here,’ I say.
Their eyes narrow when they hear me.
‘You've been following us the whole time?’ Vern asks.
‘Of course,’ I say, letting them hear my amusement. ‘Did you think I was going to stay outside? You should probably know that something is following us around. I haven't seen it yet, but it's just biding its time, and it’s Dark Realm through and through.’
Rikoth eyes Dane, who purses his lips. ‘I don't feel anything.’
I step closer to my friend, whispering into his ear and hoping I can trust him with this secret. ‘I can feel its thoughts,’ I whisper, and his eyes widen slightly.
‘Where is it?’
‘I don't know, but it's watching us, and it's waiting. It doesn’t want us in its domain. It will kill us if it can.’
‘Fine.’ Dane grits his teeth. ‘Let's go.’
We go back through the rooms and down the steps, and just as we turn the corner to re-enter the hall, something dark moves out of the shadows. It's huge and hulking, a black mass with no discernible shape.
Dane throws a conjure at it, and an explosion rocks the castle, making the rest of the floor cave in around us.
‘Run!’ someone yells as the creature lets out a piercing scream of anger and perhaps pain as well.
We flee as fast as we can, bolting out into the overgrown courtyard. The others run for the way out, and I watch their backs, waiting until they’re clear before I pass through the wall. At first, I think the thing isn’t going to follow, but then I hear it burst out of the castle ruins with a roar that makes my ears hurt. Stone shards fall around us, lodging themselves in the hard ground of the path and in the trees, narrowly missing me.
‘It's coming,’ I yell as I meet the others outside the wall.
‘Will your conjures do anything to it?’ Vern snarls.
Dane shakes his head. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never come across whatever this is before. Some of them feed off magick. I’ll use indirect conjures to waylay it, just in case.’
We run up the path towards the Gate, and I wonder how we can possibly get out of here in time because it’s not as if it will open at our whim. That’s not how the Breach works.
But then I see Rikoth take a necklace out of his clothes and rub at the purple stone in the middle of it when we’re close to the Ring. The Gate opens almost immediately.
But there’s no time to wonder how he has something like that. I can feel the creature just behind me. It’s traveling quickly, faster than us. But when I look back, there’s nothing there.
‘Where is it?’ Rikoth snarls, as he looks over his shoulder, his eyes darting this way and that.
The thick grass beside the path flattens no more than three paces from me, and my eyes widen.
‘It’s invisible! Get through the Breach!’ I yell.
Dane throws a conjure. It explodes in front of the creature, making a crater in the path and giving us an extra second or two.
I reach the Gate and throw myself through it, registering Dane beside me and not caring if the others have made it or not.
We land in a pile on the floor of Varrik’s hall.
The illustrious leader is sitting at his desk in the adjoining room calmly, looking unperturbed as the Gate closes behind us.
‘Did you get it?’ is all he says.
We get to our feet, and Rikoth hands the box to the fae lord, who looks pleased.
‘You've done well.’ He surveys Dane and then me. ‘You too. I'll let you know when the next quest will be.’
Summarily dismissed, we leave Varrik’s presence, ending up in the corridor.
‘What was all that about?’ I mutter.
Vern and Rikoth shrug, and I narrow my eyes at them, brushing against their thoughts to find out what I want to know. But I realize that neither of them actually have any idea either. Whatever it was in that box, Varrik has kept them as much in the dark as us. They're pretending to know more than they actually do because they wish that Varrik had trusted them, his prize Skilled, with his secrets.
I hide my mocking smile, and we leave the keep. I glance down the elite’s hallway as we go by it. Knowing that my female is so close and I can’t go to her at the moment is difficult, but I don't want my access to the keep taken away from me, so I follow them out, across the bridge that goes over the mote.
Dane and I return to our house. When we get inside, Dane whirls on me.
‘What was in that box?’ he asks.
‘I don't know, but neither did Rikoth and Vern.’
Dane’s expression shutters. ‘And how do you know that? How did you know that creature was watching us?’
‘Maybe I can do a little bit more than I let on,’ I say quietly, unable to help my grin.
‘You can read others’ thoughts?’
‘A bit. Ideas and feelings, perhaps,’ I say. ‘Whatever someone's actually thinking about at the time, certainly.’ I put a hand up when his mouth opens to ask his next question. ‘I can’t shuffle through someone’s memories or anything like that. At least, not yet.’
‘Why have you kept this from us?’ Dane asks, his eyes flashing.
I shrug, enjoying his anger too much. ‘Grey knew.’
‘Where is Grey?’ he asks, looking around.
‘He's been having trouble with the beast,’ I murmur. ‘You'd know that if you’d been around lately.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘Grow up, Kallum. It's been a long time since we were here. I’ve merely been getting to know the lay of the land again.’ His gaze bores into me. ‘So, you’ve seen the Harbinger.’
I nod slowly.
‘What else have you done?’
I grin. ‘You know me too well,’ I drawl.
‘Is she—’ He stops himself and turns away.
‘She seemed well, if that's what you're asking. Though I don't know why you'd care.’
He stiffens but doesn't say anything as he leaves the room.
I hear him go up the stairs to his own chamber and close the door.
I go upstairs myself. It's getting later, and the sun is setting. I look up at the keep, and I see a light in Lia’s chamber.
I stare at it for a long time until the moon is high and the light blinks out. Only then do I get into my own bed and try to sleep, planning for the next time I'm going to visit my human.
I think I’ll make sure she’s awake for me next time.