Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Rorrick
My soft feet pad across the floor as I walk through the halls in my cat form.
Those I pass gush over me, reaching down to pet, making me arch my spine as their fingers stroke along my back.
The way they coo at me now versus the way they normally scowl at my face is a totally whiplash effect and I love every second of it.
I bask in their adoration scratches. It’s nothing compared to the feeling of Crymson touching me though.
I don’t particularly have a destination in mind. I’m just strolling through the halls, passing the time until I’m able to go see Crymson again. That’s where Seven finds me.
Shifting eyes look both ways around the dark hall before he dips his head and addresses me like a total psychopath talking with too much seriousness to his cute little pet.
He picks me up with both hands around my belly and an involuntary hiss crawls up my throat. The fucker! How dare he man handle me! I am a vampire! A warrior! Not a fuckin’ pet! I squirm in his arms until he drops me roughly back on four paws and I glare up at him around my whiskers.
“I need your help,” he hisses low, as if he doesn’t want anyone to hear him.
I peer up at him through my cat eyes and sit, waiting.
“Shift back,” he orders. “This is important.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Seven look so panicked.
This is a man who has mastered fitting in, doing everything not to attract attention.
I can’t remember a time I’ve ever seen true panic in his eyes.
Usually, it’s only disdain for me. Come to think of it, I don’t think he’s ever asked me for help either.
I shift, mostly because I’m curious, but also because if Seven feels the need to ask for help, I’ll do what I can. I have a long way to go to make up for the shitty situation that brought us together.
“What is it?” I ask, rolling my shoulders. “Is it the King?”
He shakes his head. “Crymson.”
I tense. “What about her?”
He gestures for me to follow him so I do, trailing behind his storming steps with my much larger ones. He stops outside of Christian’s room where I know she is. When he opens the door and ushers me inside, my eyes scan the room until I find her.
She’s sleeping, her hair spread out across the pillows, her mouth slightly agape. She doesn’t stir at our entry. She doesn’t even twitch when Seven grimaces and gestures to her.
“Do you notice anything about her?” he asks. He doesn’t bother lowering his voice, as if he doesn’t think she’ll wake.
I keep my voice low, not wanting to wake her with my booming voice. “Like what?”
“Just look at her,” he hisses. “Really look.”
So I do. I peer over at her sleeping form, taking in everything.
She’s under the covers, the comforter rising and falling with her deep breaths, but that’s not what I focus on.
Her face is sticking out, her head on the pillow, and for the first time since she came here, I realize how exhausted she looks.
Dark circles ring her eyes. Her cheekbones are gaunt.
I look over at Seven sharply. “Is she sick?”
Humans get sick. I know that. I’ve watched my fair share of them die from ailments I could never understand.
They’re frail. Things as simple as a little plague will wipe out a continent of them like they’re nothing.
But Crymson is half dark fae. Or so we’re told.
She shouldn’t be sick. This shouldn’t be happening.
“She’s starving,” Seven growls. “You were wrong.”
My brows furrow. “Impossible. They need to eat more than us but--”
“Once a week isn’t enough!” Seven growls. “Look at her! She’s lighter too. I carried her to the bed because she couldn’t even make it there herself.”
My chest tightens. “Where would we even find more food? We don’ have time to get back to the human realm jus’ for a bowl of Mac N Cheese.”
We’re gonna have to travel to the border. Maybe we’ll get lucky.
“I don’t know,” Seven rasps. “But we’ve got to find something.”
“Fuck,” I growl, running a hand through my hair. “Then let’s go.”
***
There’s nothing within the castle. That doesn’t surprise me, but we still looked just in case.
When we find nothing suitable, we go further out, searching for anything a human might be able to eat.
It’s a right fucking waste of time though.
Everything outside the castle is hardly alive, let alone suitable for eating.
“What the fuck are we gonna do?” Seven hisses. “We can’t leave and go back to the human world.”
We’re already walking a dangerous path. Christian would remind us that tomorrow, there will be no need to feed her, that she’ll be the King’s. But that doesn’t sit right with me. Fuck, it shouldn’t sit right with Christian. Asshole is determined to remain cold and aloof despite the clear signs.
She’s ours. And we need to do something or else we’re going to lose her.
“You found the fruit at the border last time, right?” I ask, looking over at Seven. When he nods, I gesture in the direction. “Then let’s go. Maybe we get lucky again.”
Together, we fly through the court, past the castle gates, the twisted and burning trees, the ash swirling around us. The air stings beneath my lids and I try to wipe it away but it’s pointless in this ashen kingdom.
We don’t speak as we search the darkness for anything that could be considered edible. Nothing grows in this hellhole. The humans, the few stragglers that linger in our realm don’t make it long. They’re either our food … or they’re dead.
We rush through the grounds for hours. Not a crumb is found. I don’t have much hope, and in the end, I think one of us will have to go to the human realm, but that’s not a viable option. If one of us leaves and shit hits the fan. . .
“The fae border’s up ahead,” Seven rumbles.
Our guard goes up, mostly because there’s never a guarantee that we’ll be alone here.
The border is always moving, always being fought over.
Boris never fucking respects the line and tries to take more, while the fae remind him that he doesn’t have rights to anything over their marked boundary.
So they press in on us. I don’t see them but they’re there.
Somewhere beyond the smoke, lies an army of fae. Just waiting for one of us to fuck up.
I’d hate to disappoint them. Especially when I’m so very determined to feed the woman who needs me.
And I do love a good fight so who am I to turn down an awaiting army?
I slow, taking in the edge between the burning court behind us and their gnarled treeline ahead.
Suspiciously, there are no sounds here, not that I can detect.
My shoulders lower but I can’t manage to relax.
Seven does the same beside me, his eyes searching along the boundary for something Crymson can eat.
“I don’t see anythin’,” I comment, my eyes trailing along the tangled thorns and rotting tree limbs. “Fuck!”
Seven scowls. “She’s going to fucking die.”
“Not if we have anything to do with it,” I say, shaking my head. “Come on. We keep looking.”
I turn, intending to take off again, only to startle. I throw up my hands immediately and bare my fangs. Seven turns to look and falls into a defensive stance, his eyes hard on the two dark shadows in front of us.
Fae.
The two men step cautiously forward. Their hair hangs in long locks of dark, glossy strands.
High flawless cheekbones and tanned skin are a cruel comparison to my own scarred complexion.
Their pale starlight eyes shift over us as they step closer to the tangle of thorns, the only thing that separates these princely warriors from my ready fangs.
Their arms lift higher, in each of their hands, they hold baskets filled to the brim with. . . food. They have food.
“Gifts from his highness,” one of the fae says. “For his blood.”
My shoulders tense. How the fuck do they know we need food?
Just how magical are these fae-holes?
The two say nothing when neither one of us responds. I glance at Seven out of the corner of my eye, not sure what to say. I’m not about to thank them … am I?
“How do we know it isn’t poisoned?” Seven asks, solving the conflicting problem I’m facing within myself.
Fuck. I didn’t even think to ask that. I nod quickly, giving Seven the backup he deserves.
“You have the word of the Thorn King that this will not harm her,” the second fae says, before leaning forward and placing the two woven baskets among the middle of the tangled tree limbs. “He sends his regards.”
Then they both step back into the shadows, disappearing among the ash and smoke like they never existed in the first place.
I wait two beats, three, four… fuck it. I take a rushed step forward and pull the intricately woven baskets from their side of the land.
“Do we trust it?” Seven asks, eyeing the food.
The baskets are overflowing with fruits and meats, with prepared meals.
There are even breads and items I’ve never seen before.
How the king knew to send food, I don’t know.
Maybe he just knows humans better than we do.
Or maybe there’s something else going on.
But there is one thing I know for certain.
“The fae value their word above most else,” I reply. “It should be safe. Especially since it’s for his blood.”
I pick up one of the baskets and hand it to Seve.. Fresh. It’s all fresh and ripe. Not a single fruit is bruised. Not a single meal is burned.
“Let’s get this back so it’s there when she wakes up,” I say, turning to run.
We don’t speak again on the entire run through the burning land. We don’t even speak once we make it back to Christian’s room. We just set the baskets down with pride blooming within my chest. We settle into the high back chairs across from her. And we wait.