Chapter 11
FINN
The Fairy Queen is quiet.
After disbanding our camp, we ventured deeper into Meadowmist. The forest’s terrain became more dangerous than before. This section has been fully claimed by the Deadlands.
Pools of boiling goo steam in putrid puddles. Twice I've nearly fallen into ones concealed by dark, mushy grass. The trees are barren. Black stumps with thorns protruding from where leaves once hung. The stench of rot clings to the air, making it hard to breathe.
Arden’s silence has nothing to do with avoiding the deadly trappings.
The chill in the air is nothing compared to the icy walls she's erected between us.
I know the reason they are there, and I hate it.
Hate that she doesn't meet my eye with her curious stares or listen intently to my ramblings.
Every attempt I've made at light-hearted conversation has been answered by the sound of whipping wind.
Arden flutters further away on her gossamer wings. Favoring the deadtrees over my company.
Whatever you wish shall be yours. Her words from last night plague me.
Since I was a child, breaking free of the curse was all that I wanted. Suppressing my magic was physically painful. The toll it’s taken has been great. The beast that is my power has been eating me alive for decades.
Arden’s encouragement to yield to it had sparked my ire.
Spending most of my life fighting it, I would be damned to just let it have its way with me. I've seen the destruction it can cause. It is a beautiful, terrible power that I won't let consume me. If I did, what would be left?
Regardless of my internal struggles, it is the only thing that has proven to destroy the Void's obsidian towers. I may have to let my beast out again before the mission is over. There is solace in knowing that if I do, it will be the last I ever have to contend with him.
Whatever you wish shall be yours. I should've bargained for more.
Found a way to keep Arden with me, even knowing a relationship between us would never work. She is a Queen with a realm to care for. I’m a treasure hunter who’s only felt content on the high seas. I crave adventures.
My lifestyle is not suitable for someone as delicate as the Queen.
If I had been born here, raised to embrace my magic like her, then we would've had a chance. Regardless of the need for her burning in my blood, all I want is to be free of this curse and out of this realm. At least that's what I tell myself.
A sharp gasp cuts through my thoughts.
I jerk to the side just in time to see Arden flutter to the ground. Her bare knees sink into the rotten ground. Black goo splatters along her silk dress and coats her soft skin. Pink curls hang limply down her back as she hunches over a small pile.
The further we travel towards the Deadlands, the weaker she becomes. Her verdant skin has turned pale. The glimmer in her eyes dulls with each passing moment.
I venture to her side, keeping my steps as quiet as possible.
The Queen's shoulders quiver as her hands rest beside what she's found. At one time, they were a pair of deer. All that remains of them are pale bones and rotten fur where the rot has eaten through. Wriggling goo explodes from their eye sockets.
From their posture, it looks like they were marred by the substance. Their bodies twisted as they tried in vain to escape. One is larger than the other, hunching over the smaller set of bones.
A mother protecting her child.
My heart squeezes. Arden swallows thickly as two rivulets of glittering tears stream down her cheeks. They hit the ground with a hiss.
Raising her hands, tendrils of her green magic thread between her fingers.
Straightening her spine, she lets her power flow.
It sparks a few times before catching in an emerald ribbon.
It wraps around the two corpses, pulling golden light from the darkness.
Their pure souls mix with Arden's magic and rise away from the rot polluting the ground. She guides them towards the sky.
The magic filters through the branches, escaping the death that awaits them below.
The furrow between her brows deepens with the concentration required to use such power. Still, even with her fleeting ability, she gives peace to the weakest creatures in her realm. Aiding their souls to break free from the Void’s treachery.
She loves deeply. I can feel the brush of it against me as she rises from the ground.
Her magic is a gift, not a curse like mine. She isn't a monster. Arden is life itself. She’s all the good things in the world. Peace, hope, and happiness. She is a wonderful Queen, and I'm a callous fool.
Scrubbing a shaking hand down her face, she resumes her measured steps beside me. Once we clear an unruly branch, I nudge her with my shoulder. My knees buckle as I meet her emerald stare.
"I didn't mean you, Queenie. I'm the one with the burden. The curse."
Her pink brows lower. I watch as she turns over my words. The slide of her wing against my arm makes my blood heat.
How will I survive never seeing her again?
"If you were born here—amongst us—you would see it as a gift."
I raise a skeptical brow.
Not because I want to argue, but because I don't want her to stop talking. I missed her soft voice. The richness of her scent washes over me.
"You would've been taught how to control your magic, not let it fester inside," she explains.
"If is the keyword, Queenie. Men will live and die by ifs."
"Good to see the Deadlands has not rotted your flair for the dramatics."
I grin.
"There's the Queenie I missed."
Color splashes across her cheeks as she shakes her head. I catch her small smile all the same. Happiness beams in my chest, settling the beast in my stomach. When she is near, he is more inclined to behave. A discovery I'd rather not look at too closely.
Her eyes return to mine, serious this time.
"Do you wish to know which realm you hail from? Who are your parents? I'm sure—"
I hold up a hand, bracing myself against the familiar pain in my chest.
I've long since made peace with never knowing who sired me. No need to reopen a wound I've spent decades closing. I have no desire to learn anything about my fairy lineage.
"No. The less I know about this realm, the better."
It is the wrong thing to say. I instantly wish I could pull the words back, but they've already reached her. The warmth in her smile ices over. Flying on her wings, she puts physical distance between us again.
I want to scream.
To haul her against me and never let her go. I don't know why being away from her unsettles me. Even my beast begins to pace within his cage, desperate to have her near. Once my curse is lifted, perhaps so too will be this incessant need for her.
At least I pray it is, or I'll spend the next thirty years of my life searching for another portal to find my way back to this infernal world.
Back to her.
"Of course," the Queen says through clenched teeth.
"Arden, I didn't mean—"
"You needn't explain. Your opinion of my realm—of me—matters little. Our relationship is nothing more than an arrangement." The cold wind picks up, slicing through my flesh. "You are a servant to my realm's plight."
My hand reaches out of its own accord, capturing her delicate wrist.
She whirls towards me, eyes wide in surprise. Her wings beat in time with my heart. I pull her forward. Green, bare feet sink into the rotted grass as she cranes her head back.
For someone so small, she has the power to bring me to my knees.
"That's twice you've called me a servant."
She arches a pink brow.
"Your point?"
My hand drifts from her wrist to wrap around her upper arm. Her soft flesh is warmer than the sun. My other hand goes to her stubborn chin and tips it up. I stare into her eyes, swirling with gold and green.
A man could drown in such a gaze if he isn't careful.
This is the most I've touched her since we met, and it's not enough. I want to feel her body against mine. The richness of her scent deepens. Her nipples bead against the front of her gown, and I know the trembling in her body doesn't have anything to do with the chill.
She can be flippant and dismissive of me, but her body tells the real story. She wants me just as much as I want her. It's why my words hurt her. Why she banters back and forth with me. It is a dangerous revelation, but I welcome it all the same.
"You don't look at me like a servant, Queenie."
Her pink tongue slicks along her lower lip. My fingers trace over her round cheek, delighting in how she sways into me. Her fluttering pulse makes me long to taste it with my mouth.
I'm not a noble man.
I've never been reviled for my patience. Since I was a child, I was taught to claim what I want. To seize it with force and never let another take it.
Arden is what I want. Even if I have no claim on her, it matters little. She is mine.
My beast growls in agreement. I will not leave this realm without keeping some piece of her, no matter how small, with me.
My heart rests in her small palm, whether she knows it or not.
The fire kindling in her gaze is the barest acknowledgment of the desire we share. It threads between us, binding us in unbreakable irons.
I was a master of my lust for many years.
I know what it means to want someone and want Arden, I do, but there's more.
I don't just want to possess her body, as pleasurable as that would be.
I want to keep her with me. To peel back her layers and study each delicious part of her until I know her better than anyone.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
"How do I look at you?" she breathes.
My thumb rubs over the pillowy softness of her lower lip. A soft moan falls from her mouth. My cock hardens painfully in my trousers, seeking her warmth to sink into.
Arden's eyelids turn heavy as my lips pull up on the side.
"Like you never want to stop."