A Fate of Smoke and Betrayal (Fated #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

FINLEY

Shadows from my campfire danced on the warm ground. On nights like this, when the echoes of nature’s songs took root in my chest, I swore I heard the earth’s distinctive heartbeat. Felt the flow of life wend from tree to tree, with the sound of rustling leaves moving against the light breeze.

It was a perfect version of peace that I only found outdoors. Far, far away from everyone and their expectations. Even if it meant my loneliness.

And if my magic malfunctioned out here, at least no one else would pay the price.

I called to the threads of my magic, and a blaze roared in my veins. The red threads pulsed around the campfire, the flickers growing dimmer when I willed its life to end. My veins burned, blistering with familiar pain.

I pulled harder, but my magic balked, stuttering in resistance.

Hissing in a desperate breath, I pushed again, yanking the threads to suffocate the tiny flames that remained. Sweat collected on my forehead, my concentration never waning.

The threads snapped forward, but instead of obeying, they erupted outward, devouring the grass and brushes that had started to grow at the first sign of summer a month ago.

Oh gods.

I clawed at the threads, desperate to reel them back in. The harder I fought, the stronger they surged. The flames reached skyward, climbing tree after tree in rogue swells of destruction.

Cold seeped into my bones, sinking deeper and deeper until its dark tendrils wrapped around my soul.

I’m suffocating. From the fire and thickening smoke, from the cold that cut like broken glass. Or maybe my thoughts were fragmented.

The flutter of tiny wings echoed in my head, but that couldn’t be. I made sure there weren’t any creatures nearby before I started training. Yet I heard the pixies’ panic rise. I felt their impending doom with every thundering beat of my heart.

I tipped my head up, a scream bellowing from my lungs while I closed my eyes and called back the threads of my magic even harder. It refused to retreat, though, and I could already feel the stain killing these pixies would leave on my soul.

“Please,” I whispered to no one. Maybe to everyone.

The air stilled. Goosebumps lifted on my arms. Terror drove my hands beneath my armpits, my arms clamping together in a self-hug that did nothing to comfort me.

Hearing tiny wings flittering, scared but unharmed, gave me the courage to open my eyes, that same scream from earlier rasping against my dry throat. Instead, I gasped at the female who stood before me with a small, tentative smile on her rose-colored lips.

“Finley.” My name slid from her mouth low and sultry, a contrast to the sickly sweet scent of the charred trees.

“What?” I drew my sword from the inner pocket of my magic while energy hummed beneath my skin. “Who are you?”

Through silver eyes, she watched me with painstaking calmness.

“I am a friend.” She tipped her head to the side.

Her smile grew slowly but held a friendliness that tugged at my chest. It felt like an offering for something we both desperately wanted.

“A friend to the pixies I saved from your magic and a friend to you.”

“You saved them?” Those three words stammered out, my tongue heavy with relief and despair.

I shook my head, trying to wrap my thoughts around this female who appeared out of nowhere, and at exactly the right time to save the pixies. Again, I listened for the fluttering of their wings and the soft beat of their heart. Anything to let me know they’d survived.

I gripped a fist over my chest when I heard them, but I didn’t lower my sword.

“How?”

She remained quiet, and with a tip of her chin, my sword disappeared. I reached for the dagger strapped to my calf only to find the spot empty.

“My magic extinguished yours,” she said.

I stood before her, ready to strike before she could advance on me, but she simply watched me.

“It would be unwise to attack me,” she said, her eyes flickering to my fists.

Shame filled me at the hurt that crossed her features.

“I came to help,” she said, her tone gentle. “Not to make you an enemy. Please don’t force my hand here, Finley. I’d like us to be friends or, at the very least, allies.”

“Why?”

“It wasn’t only the pixies I helped, but you as well.” She toyed with the tips of her dark hair, her eyes steady on mine. “I’ve watched you, Finley. You would rather harm yourself than cause others distress. That’s rare.”

My stance loosened, just a breath. “Thank you,” I said because the pixies were alive, but I didn’t permit myself to drop my guard.

When my knees threatened to buckle, I lowered myself to the ground, my gaze fixed on her. I ran my hands over the tall grass, my veins pulsing with the energy that flowed through each blade.

I took in a deep breath, holding the soft scent of the summer night in my lungs while relief flooded through me.

The pixies were alive. Despite my magic malfunctioning, they hadn’t died.

“Who are you?” I asked the female.

She sat opposite me, placing my sword and dagger on the ground, just within my reach.

“I am Zaicha, daughter of the gods,” she said.

Daughter of the gods. Why would a daughter of the gods be here, in my realm? Talking to me?

“I have watched you for some time,” she said. “Your magic was never meant to be a burden.”

I scoffed. “A burden is all the crown has ever let me be.”

Her smile deepened, her eyes bright like I’d spoken the answer she’d wanted.

“That’s all your kings have made you believe,” she said, a dark undertone of something vicious nestled beneath her words.

Her features softened so that all I saw was the pain she hid behind her eyes.

Pain, I was all too familiar with. “But I see the truth. I see the way you measure your breath before you speak. The way your hands tense before you touch anything alive, as if your presence itself is a curse. You, sweet Finley, are so much more than their fear of you.”

My brows pinched together. “What—”

She vanished. Just as suddenly as she’d appeared, she disappeared. No sound, no shimmer, just the absence of something, someone unknown. The air around me shifted. Dense and electric, humming like my magic before it surged. It pressed against me, as if Zaicha left a part of herself behind.

Had I imagined her? But she'd seen me. She knew that I tensed before touching anything living, and she knew that I held myself back before I spoke, never trusting myself.

“You, sweet Finley, are so much more than their fear of you.”

Or was I only giving shape to words I’d spent my life aching for? Vith. Probably the latter, as nothing so sweet existed for me.