Chapter 52 #2
With Fae magic.
The thought still fills me with more than a fair amount of discomfort, but if I stand any chance of killing the Mother, I do need to get comfortable with this part of myself. More than simply being comfortable, I need to be proficient. Expert.
I need to be able to wield magic as easily as I wield a blade.
“Fine,” I mutter to myself before rolling out my neck and shoulders.
Closing my eyes, I focus on the instructions Derian repeated to me over and over during our travels. I slow my breathing, relax my shoulders, and focus on the feeling of my body being grounded. I dig into myself, into the very center of my core, focusing on the swirling mass of energy I find there.
Ether.
That cosmic energy that flows in me, through me. It is me.
I pull, gently at first, then harder, ripping it from that deep place inside me even as it struggles against me.
When we first started training, Derian assured me that eventually the ether would loosen and would be more willing to follow my guidance and shaping, but that has yet to happen.
Getting it to listen is nearly impossible.
It fights me every step of the way, but I keep pulling, gritting my teeth as I do, until finally it explodes.
The magic bursts out of me in a rush of air and light that sends me stumbling backwards and has me shielding my face instinctually.
Water crashes through the air, splattering over the tiled floor and walls.
By the time I open my eyes, dirty bathwater covers the room and drips down the windows.
The clothes I’d discarded on the stool in the corner of the room are now soaked through.
What’s left in the tub, though, is noticeably clean and steaming.
I’ll take it.
“Needs practice,” Kaia remarks from the other room.
“I have time to practice.”
“You do not,” she reminds me. “Not if you plan to embark on this quest immediately after your wedding.”
Her words send a flicker of unease down my spine. She’s right. Not that I’ll admit that to her.
“You do not need to admit it aloud to take the warning to heart. I’m going to procure my dinner. Your sister remains.”
I don’t bother responding, not when a warm bath is just waiting for me. The moan that escapes when I sink down into it is positively sinful.
Taking my time in the tub, I allow the water to flow over me, relaxing every place it touches as I lay my head back against the copper lip. I breathe in the jasmine oils and allow myself to simply… find peace.
Peace that for the first time in years actually feels warranted.
Tyla is healthy.
The tonic is working.
She’s here, with me, perfectly happy and healthy. We have warm water and our own beds. Tonight we’ll dine with the people who I’ve come to consider my friends. Our bellies will be filled with plentiful amounts of food, and she’ll be able to rest in a room that is all her own.
And I’ll… well, I’ll sleep beside Derian.
Again.
I’ll let him move inside me and then afterwards I’ll let him sleep beside me. I’ll let him sleep curled around me in a way I’ve never let anyone else do.
It’s surprisingly not a scary thought.
He is undeniably a Fae bastard, but somehow in the past few weeks, I’ve started to crave those moments between just the two of us. I’ve started to need them for more than just a physical release.
And that, well that is a terrifying thought.
Rather than dwell on it any longer, I emerge from the tub, now happily clean, and wrap a towel around me. It’s still damp from my harrowing attempt at magic, but it’s suitable enough.
With a happy bounce in my step, I pad over the tiled floors back to the bedroom, pausing for a brief moment when I hear Tyla mumbling. I smile, picturing her whispering to Kaia even though the cat can’t respond to her.
I’m grateful they’ve taken to each other so well.
Only...
Kaia isn’t in there.
She left to go hunt.
Tyla is alone.
Gently, I push open the door just a crack, listening as I do.
“Of course,” Tyla whispers. “It all makes sense now. Huntyr will understand, like I do. I’m ready now.”
Did Derian come back?
I push out of the bathroom, expecting to see the two of them conspiring, but Tyla stands alone.
She’s still staring out that damn window.
“Tyla?”
She turns to me. She’s put on one of the dresses Marta brought for us, a pale yellow gown with capped sleeves. It fits her perfectly, despite how petite she is.
“What do you think?” She waves an arm down her body. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
I nod slowly, glancing around the room as if needing to confirm I didn’t miss some guest.
“Were you saying something?”
Tyla frowns. “No, why?”
“Because I heard you, Tyla. I heard you talking to someone.”
She tilts her head with narrowed eyes and a teasing smile. “Clearly someone let the steam get to her head. Come, get dressed. You obviously need to eat something.”
She pushes me towards the bed, to where the remaining dresses lay, waiting for me to choose. Tyla throws herself across the top of the bed, chattering about which ones she thinks will look best on me, but I only half listen to her.
She seems so much like herself again, hardly even glancing towards the window. But I know what I saw. Even as she shoves a dress at me, proclaiming it’s the one, I can’t shake off the odd feeling of suspicion that has settled within me.
I wasn’t imagining that.
She’d been talking to herself.
The feeling of peace is suddenly gone, replaced now with concern that while that tonic might have healed my sister, it also might have had some other effects too.
Rhen walks with us into the dining room, where a select few have been gathered to eat.
Ulna and Taric are seated at one end of the table, Taric’s arm across the back of his wife’s chair.
Parker and his partner are next to them, speaking animatedly.
Derian and Cal are at the other end of the table, brows furrowed as they discuss something quickly between themselves, though Derian’s attention flickers to me as I enter the room, looking first at my face, then down my body, then to where my hand rests in the crook of Rhen’s elbow.
His eyes narrow, and the windows shake suddenly with a forceful wind.
I lift my brows at him.
Possessive Fae bastard.
He’s on his feet in an instant, eyes zeroed in on me, hand extended for mine even as he’s still feet away.
“He’s got it bad,” Rhen leans down to mutter into my ear.
I smirk up at him when thunder sounds outside.
“Why do you sound surprised?”
I feel Derian’s fingers wrap around those of my free hand, and Gods help me, he actually tugs me away. Ahead of us, Tyla stifles her giggle under a cough while Kaia simply glares up at him.
"Why you are so attracted to this unbearably vexing creature is beyond my understanding," she mutters.
“Thank you for escorting the women,” Derian says to Rhen tightly, before turning away without another word, effectively dismissing the guard.
I plant my feet though, refusing to let him pull me away.
“Actually, Rhen, why don’t you stay and dine with us?” My voice is higher-pitched than normal, sickly sweet.
I feel Derian tense beside me and Rhen’s eyes flicker towards his prince. “Thank you, Huntyr, but—”
“Lady Lachlan,” Derian corrects sternly.
Tyla and I share a look of pure amusement before she joins in.
“Come now,” Tyla insists, wrapping her hands around Rhen’s arm and beginning to walk towards the table with him in tow, her narrow hips swishing as she does. “In the Mortal Kingdom, when a future princess asks you to dine with her, it’s simply something you cannot say no to.”
I watch them take their places across from the two that remain empty for Derian and me, a bemused grin dancing on my lips.
“Huntress,” Derian drawls behind me.
I flick my hair over my shoulder as I turn back to him. “I’m starving, aren’t you?”
With that, I let go of his hand and prowl forward, stopping only to run my hand along the line of Cal’s shoulder as I take the seat between him and Derian. Derian’s head falls back as I do, and I watch him take three deep breaths.
“He doesn’t respond well to being played with,” Cal warns me.
“I know,” I grin. “That’s what makes it so fun.”
Cal rubs a hand against his temple. “You two are an insufferable pairing.”
I wink at him as Derian takes his place next to me and waves at the servants to begin bringing in our food. As we wait, he rests an arm around the back of my chair, fingers tracing circles along the exposed skin between my shoulder blades.
It’s one of the few parts of me that is exposed. I chose a gown more typical to what ladies of courts would wear, long-sleeved with a respectable neckline. A forest green fabric that falls easily to the ground without even the suggestion of a slit.
Throughout the meal, I’m careful to avoid Derian, not bothering to look his way and hardly acknowledging anything he says. Tyla glances between the two of us as the night progresses on, communicating silently with me in the way only a sister can.
You’re being cruel.
I shake my head. All part of the fun.
“So Huntyr,” Ulna cuts in. “You must be excited to plan the wedding.”
I narrow my eyes at her. She knows me well enough by now to know that having a wedding is the last thing I want on my to-do list.
“Surely you have some ideas of what you want,” Taric insists when he takes in my horrified face. “We’ll start easy. Who do you want to invite?”
“Tyla,” I answer quickly.
There’s a beat of silence as everyone in the room glances between one another.
“Of course,” Ulna agrees. “And who else?”
I frown, shifting uncomfortably. “Well, I suppose I have one friend in Velia. Flannigan. We could invite him?”
“Not Kristona?” Tyla asks from across from me.
I deliberate on the idea, still not entirely at peace with the new way I view my past with Kristona. Having a reckoning with him is something that needs to happen at some point, I'm just not sure if a wedding is the best opportunity for that.
“Not Kristona,” I tell her, and Derian resumes tracing those circles on my back.
“Okay, so, Tyla and Flannigan,” Taric counts them on his fingers. “That’s only two, Huntyr. Anyone else?”
I shrug. “Kaia.”
Ulna glances to the Eshari who is devouring a hunk of raw meat she dragged into the room.
“Okay, then,” my future aunt sighs. “A small guest list.”
“Small,” Derian confirms next to me. “I only need my brother and the people in this room. Anyone else is up to Huntyr.”
I feel a wave of relief knowing I won’t be standing in front of hundreds of members of Fae society and nobility as I sign the rest of my life away to marriage.
Ulna nods as if she’s keeping track of these plans, even though disapproval is evident on her face. “It’s a bit untraditional, but I don’t think anyone will be surprised that you break from standards, Derian.”
Cal snorts next to me, and Derian glares at him.
“We’ll need a dress made,” Ulna continues, oblivious to the fact that Derian’s hand has temporarily lifted from the back of my chair to smack Cal on the back of the head. “You and I can discuss that in private, dear. Best to keep it a surprise for the groom.”
For the first time this evening, I glance up at Derian, who is already smirking down at me, his thoughts obvious based on the heat of his eyes. He doesn’t particularly care what I'm wearing as long as he gets to peel it off of me at some point.
“Tyla can pick it,” I say, feeling uncomfortable as everyone turns towards me in shock. “She’s better at that sort of thing than I am.”
“It’s your wedding gown, Huntyr!” Tyla reminds me.
“Okay?” I let my shoulders lift and fall in a pronounced shrug. “It’s a dress that I’ll wear for a few hours and never look at again. If I don’t necessarily care what it looks like, I don’t see why anyone else should.”
There’s a momentary pause before everyone’s attention suddenly turns to Derian, as if they’re waiting for him to talk some sense into me. Clearly, they don’t know either of us very well if they think that’s possible.
Derian simply grins. “Let’s not make this an ordeal. You’re more than capable of throwing something together, Ulna. Huntyr and I trust you.”
I’m not thrilled about him speaking on my behalf, but I’m also not dying to continue this conversation much longer, so I let it pass, nodding in agreement until Ulna finally throws up her hands.
“Fine, I’ll plan it all. Some assistance from your sister would be lovely though.”
Tyla grins happily. “Of course! I have so many ideas.”
“Oh!” I suddenly cry out, hand flying to the table. “I do have one request.”
Derian glances down at me in confusion, and I fight to keep my features neutral as I focus my attention on his aunt.
“If you only have a single request for your wedding, I will make sure it happens,” Ulna swears.
“Perfect!” I lean back, resting a hand on Derian’s thigh under the table as I nestle slightly into his side. “I would love chocolate cake.”
Derian clears his throat next to me, shifting his weight as my hand slides higher up his thigh. “Of course you would.”