Chapter 8 | Anna
The man brought me coffee.
Something was wrong.
Not only that, but he knew how I liked my coffee? I’d never told him. But then, not much got by him. He paid attention. We’d shared enough breakfasts for him to see I dumped loads of creamer into my cup to make it brown, not black.
Also, he was dressed. Armed. Knife at waist. One in his boot. Preparing for war but pretending everything was situation normal. Sitting here with me on the side of the bed like we were some old married couple trying not to fight about our fight from yesterday.
No, it wasn’t a fight. It was a silent standoff.
So, I sipped my coffee and pretended to keep the pretense that everything was fine.
“Grace said breakfast soon,” he said.
“Okay.”
Then he kissed my forehead and was out the door, closing it behind him. Leaving me with the feeling that he was hiding something. Some crucial bit of information he intercepted without me.
I couldn’t decide if I was angry about that or if I was afraid of what I’d find if I pushed.
Especially after last night. How could I be angry when he—
Nope. Not going there. Can’t relive that right now.
I downed the rest of the coffee and placed the mug on the nightstand, then started gathering up discarded clothes from the floor. Shower. Dress, then business.
Perhaps a visit to the Fae king was in order. Call in those reinforcements before it was too late. I’d resisted this idea yesterday but now… I wasn’t so sure I should resist anymore. I could have a nice morning chat with Killian, see how things were going in the Fae forest.
And continue to lie to myself that everything was perfectly okay.
But after I dressed and was ready to walk across the estate, my stomach growled. Coffee was not enough to sustain me.
Food first. That would make Grace happy.
In the dining room, she was there with Natasha and Ophelia. No Kincade. Figured.
Natasha seemed clear-headed today. She chatted with Grace like they were old friends. Ophelia kept giving me guarded looks from across the table which meant she knew something she wanted to tell me but couldn’t in front of the other two.
I’d corner her later.
After clearing my plate, I headed outside into the fresh morning air. Sun glinted on the dew as I plodded across the estate heading for the woodlands.
But as I crossed the lawn, the air shifted. I halted, peered down the gravel drive toward the road that was blocked out by hedgerows. Something felt… off. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
My fingers twitched, trying to reach for the lightning power I’d burned out months ago. It was no longer within reach. Neither was the Godlight. And my jade-handled dagger resided on top of my dresser, unused in months.
I was standing here defenseless. I may as well have a target painted on my chest.
I glanced back at the manor, but everything was as it should be. No looming threat.
So why did it feel like there was one?
I shook it off and continued across the grass for the woodlands. As soon as I crossed into the shadows, the world shifted again. I was in the Fae’s world now. And it was waking up.
Killian and his people had done an impressive job turning the woods into their Fae sanctuary. What had once been a scarred stretch of forest was now alive in a way that felt intentional—guided instead of wild.
The heart of the village was a massive treehouse grown, not built, from the trunk of an ancient oak.
Its limbs had been coaxed outward and shaped into platforms and dwellings, their bark smoothed and etched with faintly glowing runes.
Rope bridges spanned the gaps between branches, swaying gently with every step, while narrow ladders spiraled upward, disappearing into canopies thick with leaves and filtered light.
Smaller homes clustered around the central tree, woven from living branches and moss, their walls threaded with flowering vines that shimmered faintly as I passed.
Lanterns made of glass and crystal hung from limbs overhead, catching the sunlight and breaking it into shards of gold and green.
Somewhere nearby, water trickled—an unseen stream winding through the roots like a heartbeat.
The air here was different. Cooler. Charged. It smelled of damp earth and crushed herbs, of sap and smoke and something faintly metallic beneath it all—magic, old and awake. The forest didn’t surround the village, it watched it. Leaves rustled without wind. Shadows shifted where nothing moved.
Fae moved through the space with quiet grace, their presence felt before it was seen.
Some paused to watch me pass, eyes too bright, too knowing.
Others nodded in acknowledgment, recognition flickering in their expressions.
They remembered who I was. What I’d done for them. What I’d taken from them, too.
This place was a sanctuary, yes, but it wasn’t gentle.
I saw Killian then, talking to one of his people.
He was tall, regal, like an elf who stepped out of a high-budget fantasy movie.
His face was hard angles, ears a delicate point, his hair the color of spun gold, and longer than mine.
Prettier than mine, too. But his eyes were the strangest—a kaleidoscope of blue, green, purple.
He smiled and waved when he saw me. “Hi, Anna. What brings you here this morning?”
“Hi. You have a minute to chat?”
“For you, sure.”
He motioned for me to follow him up the spiral staircase. Once we were inside his home, he waved me to a chair.
Even here, the interior of the tree felt grown.
The walls curved organically, polished smooth where bark met living wood, threaded through with faint veins of silver light that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Sunlight filtered in through narrow openings high above, refracted by leaves and crystal panes so the entire room glowed in soft shades of yellow, amber, and green.
Low shelves lined the walls, carved directly from the trunk, holding relics of a life rebuilt.
Maps etched into bark, glass vessels filled with glowing pollen, blades forged of Fae steel and bone.
Woven rugs covered the floor, their patterns shifting subtly when I moved, responding to magic not footsteps.
The chair he offered was deceptively simple—wood and vine, shaped to cradle instead of command. No throne. No dais.
Killian ruled from the center of his people, not above them.
Some of the tension in my chest eased.
He remained standing. “You look troubled.”
“Who, me?” I tried for nonchalance.
His mouth twitched. “I don’t think you’d come before high tea unless something was amiss.”
He had me there. How many times had I sat here with him and Astrid for high tea? It was an easy alliance.
Then he looked me over. “You’re not armed, so that’s a good sign.”
I wasn’t. Kincade was.
“I was wondering… how secure are your people?” I asked, getting right to it.
His smile faded. “Secure enough. The forest is warded with Fae magic. Stronger than it has ever been.”
“And you’d… sense if something crossed those wards?” I asked.
“We sensed when you did. My guards did not alert me because they know you.”
Naturally. His gaze narrowed as he took the seat opposite me.
“There’s something you’re not saying,” he said.
There were a lot of somethings I wasn’t saying. “I’m… checking.”
His mouth flattened into a straight line. “Anna, you wouldn’t be ‘checking’ if you thought everything was all right.”
“But the wards. They’re strong?” I pressed.
“Wards are declarations,” he said. “They announce themselves. Anyone powerful enough will feel them.”
My stomach tightened. “And anyone subtle enough?”
“Will find another way in. What’s this about?”
I drew in a deep breath, expelled it. “If the Brotherhood came—if they decided to test your defenses—could you hold them?”
“For a time, yes.”
But not forever. “I may need to ask for help.”
He lifted a brow. “Not a small ask, I assume.”
“No,” I said. “But something is happening. Something I can feel but can’t see. And whatever it is, it’s headed here.”
To me, though I didn’t say it.
“You are preparing for…?”
“Survival,” I said.
“And the man who stands beside you? Is he doing the same?”
I was pretty sure he was preparing for war. “He’s doing what he thinks is best.”
“I see,” he said. He looked thoughtful for a long moment. “The fight with the Brotherhood is not our fight. But if our existence is threatened again, the Fae will stand where we must.”
Not between me and the Brotherhood. Where they must.
Fair enough. I nodded. “Understood.”
It wasn’t fair to Killian to drag them into this. I rose. Killian rose. He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
“You are welcome here,” he said. “You always will be. I will instruct my guards to listen harder,” he continued. “To watch for what does not announce itself. If something brushes our wards and retreats, I will know.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He inclined his head. “And when the man at your side decides he can no longer fight alone, send him to me. I would speak with him.”
That surprised me. “You would?”
Killian’s mouth curved faintly. “Yes. Men who prepare for war often forget what they are defending. I find it useful to remind them.”
I held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll remember that.”
As I descended the spiral staircase and stepped back onto the ground, the forest seemed to hush around me. Leaves stilled, birds quieted, magic listening.
I understood something with sudden precision.
The Brotherhood didn’t need to breach every stronghold.
They only needed to keep us moving.