6. Chapter Six
Nicholas
The mirror reflected a stranger, a fae wearing a cruel smile and amethyst eyes, incapable of focus. When Nicholas touched his cheek, the reflection did the same. The smile fell, replaced by a peculiar twitch beneath his skin.
He grasped the edges of the porcelain sink.
His eyes flickered pink, as if something sought to breach the surface.
Bright fuchsia. That should be their color, but they weren’t, and he was suddenly frightened, incapable of taking a solid breath.
He touched the glass. An ache formed in his temple.
His thoughts muddled like a vicious swarm of wasps protecting their nest. Then he slammed his fist against the mirror. Shattered shards fell to the floor.
In their broken pieces, he glimpsed the pink light fade, overcome by violet. His nerves calmed, breathing steady and smiling wide. He couldn’t remember what bothered him, why he could care about the color of his eyes, or why he would panic. Everything about him was perfect, better than ever before.
“What a mess,” he said, picking shards from his bloodied knuckles.
Stepping out of the bathroom, he snatched his clothes and approached the castle window.
The rooms at King Ellis’ castle were better than the tent he slept in for years.
Depictions of birds decorated the walls, their silhouettes a darker shade than the maroon background.
An empty bottle of faerie wine laid on the nightstand.
A bed sat against the far wall, crimson sheets ruffled from his restless sleep.
All he dreamed about was William and the dance shared, especially after the party. While others drank and danced, he lingered in the shadows, avoiding conversation because no topic caught his thoughts like William.
He let William leave the other night because he looked distraught.
Even Nicholas understood how troubling it had to be for William and Charmaine to attend the event.
The war was rough on them, and the kings were uncaring.
He had the occasional urge to break their fingers and toes, to watch the kings scramble across the dancefloor in fear like many of the soldiers had to.
To seek revenge on William’s behalf, show the kings what true terror was, and hopefully receive a reward.
William’s smile, his thanks, his laughter, even the briefest brush of his fingertips along Nicholas’ cheek would be more than enough. He merely wanted William’s attention.
He threw open the window, intending to seek that very attention.
Mortal cities reeked of sewer and coal. Smog rose from factories along the horizon, coating the sky gray.
The sight reminded him of the Deadlands.
Gated yards circled the castle like the sight of old homes and busy work streets were too offensive to be so near.
They lived in the castle’s shadow, believing they could reap from its power in closeness alone.
Far, far in the distant stood trees, isolated and abandoned, struggling to rise higher than the smothering fog of humanity.
He couldn’t fathom why mortals yearned to live in their brick houses, enclosed by a putrid stench, when beautiful woods were so near.
“Where are you off to now?” Laurent asked.
His entrance had been silent. His silhouette appeared too tall for the room, like he couldn’t have possibly fit through the door. For all Nicholas knew, his father simply materialized. It wouldn’t surprise him if Laurent could do so.
“To see William, where else?” he replied.
A chill seeped from Laurent. After all he did, nothing kept Nicholas from William.
Searching for the surviving shadowed disciples and the scars Fearworn opened preoccupied him, but that did not mean he hadn’t checked on William.
With the war over, more fae crossed from Faerie to Terra.
There were deals to make and lands to explore.
Nicholas may not have been home long, but he heard of all the trouble his kin caused.
Mortals flocked to Faerie in the shadows, refusing to admit how intrigued and greedy they were.
While they spat or cursed at any who brokered deals with fae, behind everyone’s back, they eagerly did the same.
To take a chance and ask for gold, glory, and admiration, as Laurent hoped.
That meant there were more than enough fae in Terra who could check on William in his stead.
Mortals were foolish enough to believe making deals with any of Darkmoon would render them superior, safer than their peers.
Once, he would be among his kin seeking havoc, but he hadn’t thought of striking a deal in years.
Evera was right in that regard. He thought little of anything other than William.
While separated, Nicholas ensured to remain up to date.
A band of sprites owed him a favor after he prevented their lake from being contaminated by a horde of uncaring redcaps dumping their kills into the pristine waters.
Sprites could fade in and out of existence, traveling at speeds even a fae couldn’t contend with.
They monitored William, so he knew exactly where William lived and worked.
They were so close after years of separation.
He wanted to be at William’s side, asking about all he had missed and learning what all William hoped to do.
His back fell against the windowsill. “Are you here to stop me? If so, I fear you will have to drag me away in chains.”
“I know a lost cause when I see one, but remember, if anything happens, it is your doing. All are endangered by your presence, but more so him.” Laurent’s hands folded over themselves carefully at his waist to make himself seem harmless.
“If you are implying I will hurt William, you are wrong.”
“Am I?” Laurent slipped into a crooked smile.
Fear struck Nicholas to his core, thoughts of darkness and captivity, of Laurent’s bitter voice, finding him beneath the soil.
“Soon, you will not recognize your own harm. You will see yourself as right and just. Do you believe Fearworn saw himself capable of tearing our worlds apart? That he ever considered our fate? He wished to learn, and that wish escalated. Is it not right to assume the same will happen with you?” Laurent asked, his voice always the same octave, as if no one was worthy enough to hear his raised voice.
“We are different people,” he muttered.
“But shades, nonetheless, and you want that mortal so badly. It is a craving, an addiction. Eventually, you will see everything as an obstruction in the way of your so-called love. His friends, his family, mortals love their social circles, but you will not see it as such. They will be obstacles.” Laurent spoke with a warning, like he cared.
One of his tricks, one of his ploys to get what he wanted.
But as he inched closer, breathing every word, the truth burrowed beneath Nicholas’ skull. An infection he couldn’t cut out.
“The more you see William, the worse you will get. Every moment spent in his presence may feel like bliss, but you are running toward an edge you cannot return from,” Laurent finished, standing at Nicholas’ side, casting him in shadow.
“You are trying to frighten me,” he countered. “You said you aren’t here to stop me, but from the sounds of it, you are trying to talk me out of seeing William.”
“I am merely discussing the future you are laying out for yourself.”
“You only care because of your deal with Alvina, because of what else you wish to use me for. You do not care about William and me,” he countered.
“But you care about the mortal and you will hurt him. Not today, perhaps, or tomorrow, or a year from now, but one day, you will snap and he will pay the price.” Laurent sighed like Nicholas put up a physical fight.
He turned his back to his son. “Go to him, if you wish. I will not stop you from facing the consequences of your own actions, though I will be waiting for you once the lesson has been learned. And never forget, I am still owed. Evera will keep a close eye on you.”
Evera entered at the call of her name, frustrated as ever. “You brought this on yourself,” she said.
Laurent didn’t smile over victories, for they were more common than air. He walked away, silent and content in the damage wrought.
Arguing further would be worthless. Laurent did not understand because he had never known love, not love for his children or their mothers.
Each of his siblings served a purpose, otherwise they wouldn’t be alive.
Blair was the eldest, born from a fae lord who hadn’t cared for her lands, so Laurent sought to steal them.
Laurent believed a child with the previous caretaker would make absorbing the land easier.
Solomon was the heir to his mother’s lands in a southern territory.
Nicholas did not know why Laurent agreed to that or why Solomon lived with them.
If he asked, neither of them would have explained.
Lastly was Percival, born between Laurent and another powerful fae out of pure interest to see if their blood would cause strong offspring.
Percival didn’t live up to their expectations, although Nicholas doubted any of them could.
As for his parentage, he knew nothing. None had ever shared a tale about how his parents met or why his mother would have wanted anything to do with Laurent.
The most he knew was that she was adventurous and troublesome, so perhaps it was as simple as her wanting to cause trouble for Laurent by giving an unwanted child.
Regardless, he didn’t need to hear a story about her from Laurent because he couldn’t possibly care about anyone other than himself.
Because of that, he couldn’t fathom Nicholas’ caring.
“Obstacles,” he whispered.