Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
FINLEY
I liked the way Brenton had come to my defense more than I should have.
That alone irritated me.
I wasn’t some feeble fae but a hardened warrior.
I had fought my own battles for years, with only my blade and my resolve to see me through.
My death magic stayed sheathed unless I was ordered to use it.
It was a last resort I never reached for on my own.
Several times, Etienne had stood at my side, but this . . . this was different.
I didn’t need someone stepping between me and danger. Yet . . .
Brenton hadn’t simply stood beside me but had stepped between me and the insult.
Was this how it would be if we were to honor our bond and bind our souls together? Would he protect me as easily as I protected him? Two warriors, not competing for strength, but lending it where the other faltered?
The notion was dangerously enticing. Because depending on someone gave them the power to break you.
I didn’t want to be breakable.
But when Brenton looked at me like I was someone worth standing in front of . . .
I wanted him. Not only in Vistos. But forever, just as he’d declared.
He didn’t trust me, and I couldn’t fault him for it. Time and time again, I’d turned away while he kept stepping closer, offering pieces of himself I’d never been brave enough to accept.
I loved Brenton. He lived in every breath I took, filling every hollow space in my chest.
But Etienne . . . could I really leave him now?
He was doing better, yes. Fewer seizures, but the seizures were still there, along with the horrible head pain that followed a major episode.
The nightmares were worse, the kind that followed him while he was awake.
I couldn’t banish them, but I could be there, talking him through the panic until it passed.
He trusted me to be that steady place just as I trusted him.
Walking away from that couldn’t be the right choice, even if every beat of my heart called Brenton’s name.
Kassidy halted, she and her dragon riders sitting on the small patch of sand that surrounded an inground firepit. When Brenton also sat, I took a spot next to him, making sure to stay close enough to him that my knuckles brushed the back of his hand.
His hand jerked at the contact before he ran two fingers over my thumb.
I twined my pinky with his and angled my body to the side so my knee touched him.
Unlike the many times I inched away from his touch, he held on to my finger with a sense of possessiveness that made my soul tremble with desire.
The look he gave me was just as dominating, as if he coveted every inch of who I was.
I wanted to explain to him why I kept moving away from his touch, but I wasn’t certain he’d understand.
Etienne could stand by my side without casting a shadow, his steadiness grounding me rather than holding me up.
But Brenton . . . Brenton’s presence was different.
Where he could appear strong with others at his side, I didn’t know how to be strong when he offered his support.
Around him, I felt too much, too seen, too vulnerable and giving up that control wasn’t simply frightening. It was unimaginable.
My heart raced, galloping so hard against my chest, I feared it’d tear right through bone and cartilage and flesh to land at Brenton’s feet. Eager and wanting of no one but my mate.
“First, I want to apologize for my youngest brother,” Kassidy said, waving a hand at the young male Brenton had held by the throat.
“I asked my brothers to intimidate you.” She frowned.
“Apparently, Everitt needs to learn the difference between intimidation and disrespect. Maybe we should wait a few more years for him to mature further before he is entrusted with the role of dragon rider.”
Everitt kept his head bowed, slowly and gently dragging his fingers through the blades of grass. “If that is how you feel, sister.”
He looked young. It was his devastation at disappointing his sister that struck me the hardest.
“In Niev, warriors-in-training begin at an early age. Oftentimes, far younger than Everitt,” I said, keeping my attention on the young male who now looked at me, worry making his dark eyes glisten.
“It is through that training that they learn and mature into the hardened warriors they become. It is not my place to advise you on how to lead your people”—I turned to Kassidy—“but I did not take offense to what he said of me and believe this could be used as a life lesson.”
Brenton’s grip on me tightened, and I felt his distaste at my words.
“Your mate took offense to what my little brother said.”
“He’s fae,” I said as if that were all the explanation she needed.
Brenton huffed out a laugh while Kassidy tapped a single finger on her bottom lip.
“I don’t understand,” she said slowly. “You are also a fae, yet you say you didn’t take offense. So why should he?”
“Because Finley is my soul mate,” Brenton answered. “It is in my nature to protect and defend her.” Brenton unlatched his pinky and placed his hands in his lap. “Finley is capable of taking care of herself, but I can’t seem to stop myself from being there for her despite the cost.”
Despite the cost.
“If her soul were to be damned in the pits of Enfierna, I’d follow her there, and we’ll either burn together or bring the whole place down.”
The image he painted was everything I wanted. I squeezed my eyes shut painfully tight while this heaviness settled in the pit of my stomach.
“That’s . . . an interesting sentiment,” Callan said.
Kassidy grinned at her eldest brother. “I’m sure it’s a sentiment we’ll understand when we find our other halves.”
Callan threw back his head, laughing at whatever inside joke he and Kassidy shared. “You first, sister.”
“Why would you ask your brothers to intimidate us?” Everly asked.
Kassidy lifted a single, well-sculpted brow but otherwise remained silent.
“Shall we discuss why we’re here?” King Elias asked.
“Our hatchlings, younglings, and dragas, the mother dragons, are ill,” Kassidy said, signaling for one of the females with her to come forward.
The female dipped her head, her dark hair falling over her face before she brushed it back. Once she reached Kassidy, she knelt beside her and pulled something out of the pack on her back, then handed it to Kassidy.
Kassidy cradled a large egg in her hands, holding it close to her chest. The egg shimmered with the light that reflected from its white shell.
“We’ve lost several already,” Kassidy said, her eyes intent on the egg. “We don’t know the cause of the illness or how to cure it.”
“Do you believe magic is at play?” Brenton asked. “Is that why Sama wanted Finley to come?”
“What magic do you possess?” she asked me, knowing who I was, although I never introduced myself.
“My magic has a connection with death,” I said, wary of each word spoken.
In my head, I felt Sama urge me forward. I braced a hand on my knee but refused to curl into myself. Instead, I sat straighter and tipped my head just a little higher.
“I am permitted to see if magic played a role in someone’s death,” I said.
Kassidy held the egg closer, keeping a protective hand around it.
“Troupe, will you give Finley the dead hatchling?” Kassidy asked.
One of the males, older than Everitt but younger than Callan, stood. He also reached into his pack and, when he knelt at my side, gave me a small wooden box.
The lid creaked open, that sound echoing inside me as I peered inside, where a tiny dragon, not yet fully formed, curled around a broken egg. Where Hoshiko’s scales were vibrant, this one’s were dull.
My heart ached, and with a delicate finger, I touched the tiny hatchling. A bit of warmth still clung to its lifeless body, a terrible echo of the fire it should’ve been born to yield.
A life stolen before it could take flight. There was only silence and sorrow over what could have been.
Agony. I jerked my hand back at the pain, but it wasn’t my pain I’d felt.
The hatchling. How it’d suffered. Like an inferno unraveling from the inside.
I gasped at the vision that trampled my mind, witnessing what no one else had.
I picked up one of the broken pieces of the yellowed shell and winced. Magic had clawed through the dark veins threaded through the shell. All the while, the hatchling had thrashed—confused and terrified and utterly alone.
My vision blurred, and when Brenton put a reassuring hand on my thigh this time, I clasped it.
Something sacred had broken here.
A darkness I felt in the pit of my stomach coiled around the hatchling, wanting to take what it’d left behind. This wasn’t a natural death.
No, wretched invasive magic had not only killed this hatchling but tormented it. Ripping it thread by thread as it stole its magic and any hope for a future.
“The mage.” It came out as a gasp. “Is she truly dead?”
King Elias shifted. “I killed Leanora myself.”
“Are you certain?” I asked, wiping away the tears that fell. “This”—I cupped the tiny hatchling in my palm—“it feels like her. She killed fae by stripping them of their magic.” Power from the magic used still thrummed through the lifeless hatchling.
Gently, I laid the hatchling back down to rest and scratched the back of my neck when the hairs at my nape rose.
My lungs clenched with this feeling of being watched.
I turned to peer behind me, only seeing Hoshiko and the other dragons, but something else was there.
I narrowed my eyes, tilting my head up toward the cliffs lined with various trees.
I took in a shaky breath, squeezing Brenton’s hand rather than pulling away, grateful for the weight of his hand in mine.
“The way this hatchling died feels the same. I don’t mean to question you, my king, but is there any way she could’ve returned? Could she be doing this from the afterlife?”
My mind shifted to Zaicha, a daughter of the gods. Could she have answers?