Chapter 16 #2
“Which two?” she asked, a slight tremble to her high voice. Sweat dripped down her brow, a quiet determination wrinkling her delicate features. Her outstretched hands wavered, and Zadriel realized she wasn’t used to extending this much power this quickly—her well nearly empty.
Snow crunched under his boot when he pushed ahead another step—Zadriel did his best to make noise. To keep her focus trained on him. His shadows clung to his skin, the undulating wisps barely holding on—soon, she would see him as well.
“Put your hands down and I’ll tell you.”
“No,” she seethed, a strong burst of air slowing his pace.
Zadriel’s cloak whipped around him, but the torrent quickly slowed. “You’re growing tired,” he said, sparkling midnight eyes coming into view.
The Elementalist gasped, stumbling back. “I’m not.” She shook her head, swallowing hard, the tendons in her throat so taut Zadriel could see the way her pulse thundered.
He huffed a bitter laugh. “I’ve always wondered why my kind can’t lie, but Halflings speak falsehoods with such ease.”
The last of his shadows slipped away—Zadriel stepped into view, towering over the young woman, a pallor clambering over her already light skin. She stared at the delicate points of his ears, mouth agape. “I’m not lying.”
“Yes, you are.” Thumbing the blade’s handle, Zadriel inched closer, searching his mind for the right words. He couldn’t reveal who Aedlin was; it would fuel the Halfling’s ire. Gods damn him. He’d had a silver tongue when he was a child—nearly three decades with Brennan had changed many things.
As if the Fates cackled in agreement, there was a tug in Zadriel’s center, the vibration in his chest a reminder of what Brennan had done.
It didn’t hurt. Not yet. Things would worsen if the distance between him and Darius grew.
Zadriel took solace in the vow—if Aedlin tried to break her word, she’d quickly learn the consequences.
The Mother did not suffer oath breakers.
Though, he doubted She suffered traitors either.
Dregs of burning embers flirted with his breath, clinging remnants of a dream, but this time they didn’t drag him back to the fire.
All Zadriel could think of was her, standing with him in the meadow.
Whispers of lavender kissing the scent until it became something new.
Something that calmed his heart and lifted his spirit.
Then the branches reached for him and the dream was gone.
Gripping the blade until it hurt, Zadriel wove his words as best he could. “The woman you’ve accosted isn’t who you’ve imagined her to be. She’s a mother, trying to find a safe place for her and her child. I assume you’re searching for the same?”
The Halfling frowned. “I—”
“Want to live without fear? I know. I could offer you a safe place if you promise not to attack us again.”
“I can’t trust you,” she said, strained fingers twitching. A droop to her shoulders, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.
“Nor I you. But you can trust my words are true, and any bargain we make is binding.” He slipped a little closer. “What’s your name?”
She swallowed hard. “If I give it to you, will you hurt me?”
The knife was heavy in Zadriel’s pocket. Gods be damned, he didn’t wish to harm her, but he’d do what he must to protect Cillian’s son. “Your answer to my bargain decides your fate, not your name.”
“They used to tell stories of the Fae in Cannamar,” she said, her breathing quickening. It danced in the air, puffs of mist dissipating into the erratic breeze. “I know never to bargain with one.”
Zadriel sighed. He shouldn’t have been surprised at her hesitation.
It hadn’t been long since Halflings were expelled from Arcadia.
The Exodus, as they liked to call it, was nearly thirty-seven years ago—some Halflings remembered the Forest well, and they held no kindness in their heart for his kind.
He almost couldn’t blame them. Except... that was the day his father died. His life stolen and his body mutilated. Arcadia lost a Keeper, his mother lost her mate, and soon after, Zadriel came into the world, birthed by endless sorrow and all-consuming rage.
When he examined his life and all the things that had gone wrong, he wondered if he’d been doomed from the start.
If the days leading up to his birth were a symbol.
A curse from the Fates, or the Gods, or perhaps The Mother herself.
Had She known what he would grow to become?
That Zadriel would be the one to end Her?
Why did She make him a Keeper if this was his destiny?
A maple leaned closer to caress Zadriel’s face, its frost-covered branch cooling his skin. It awoke something within him, his heart thundering like a war drum, a pulsing ache throbbing in his veins.
“That’s a shame,” he muttered, slipping his hand from his pocket.
Light gleamed off the edge of his knife and the Halfling’s eyes widened. Her brow wrinkled, fingers shaking as she pushed against the winds... but they did not grow stronger.
A slow grin painted Zadriel’s face. “Still swear you aren’t lying?”
She gulped, a desperate whimper slipping free.
Then she was running. The air settled so quickly Zadriel stumbled, slipping on ice before righting himself.
He rushed after her, weaving around trees that bent and shifted out of his way, memories playing in his mind.
Happier times, from a childhood where he chased a friend with moonlit eyes through Arcadia, their laughter dancing in the Forest’s canopy.
How would Vesryn feel if he knew Zadriel had grown into someone who hunted a woman down with a blade?
What would he think if he saw Zadriel’s scars?
Shaking the thought away, he followed the Elementalist, moving with a swiftness and grace her kind hadn’t inherited.
She’d pushed herself too hard, her well near-dry.
No longer able to shift the winds and control what sounds they did or did not carry.
Even when the evergreens hid her from sight, Zadriel heard her crashing through the underbrush, her breath heaving, legs barely holding her up.
It wasn’t long before he neared, lunging to grab her cloak. Bits of long, blonde hair bunching with the rough fabric in his grip. She hissed when he tugged, the high pitched sound morphing into a scream when her feet slipped out from under her.
Zadriel flinched when she slammed into his chest. She squirmed in his grip, feet kicking his shins.
“W-what do you want from me?” she whimpered between labored breaths.
“I told you we could bargain, Halfling. I can take you to Eden where you’ll have the safe life you’re looking for, but”—his grip on her cloak tightened and Zadriel pressed his paring knife against her throat—“in exchange, you won’t bring any harm upon myself, the child, or his mother.
Otherwise, I will only offer you death.”
The Halfling stilled, but for the endless tremors rippling through her.
“Do we have a deal?” Zadriel asked, low voice rumbling.
She closed her eyes, working to slow her breathing, the back of her head pressed against his chest. Silence stretched through the trees, thick and heavy.
Zadriel adjusted his grip on the blade, unable to stop himself from picturing the alley and a wide amber stare that would haunt him for the remainder of his days.
“Deal,” the Halfling finally croaked, gasping as the bargain took hold.