CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE BEIGE CANOPY OF THE tent is darkened with the night.
It’s all I’ve been able to stare at as sleep eludes me.
Questions upon questions rattle through my mind as I try for what feels like the millionth time to silence the noise plaguing my brain.
How was my mother able to throw up a magick wall around the city?
Why hasn’t it weakened over time? How in the fucking Fates do I get past it?
And what is left of my home besides the ruins I caught a glimpse of from atop Vasari’s back?
My mates’ gentle snores fill the tent and Jesper mumbles in his sleep incoherently. Except for the word ‘blood’. That came out just fine, along with a sleepy cackle of glee.
With a sigh, I unravel myself from my blanket and slowly crawl out of my bedroll.
There’s no point in trying to sleep any longer.
The birds are starting their morning singing and it will only be a matter of time before the camp is lively again and everyone’s staring at me they wait on me to figure this out.
“Where are you going, Little Warrior?” Killian rumbles, his voice startling me from my musings.
My hand flies to my chest as I suck in a sharp, yet quiet breath, startled. “I can’t sleep. Why are you awake?”
He sits up. “Can’t sleep either,” he mumbles, his red eyes piercing me even in the dark. “You didn’t answer my question.”
I place my hand on the hilt of my sword that I donned only moments ago. “I was going to get some air. Maybe watch the sun rise and stare at the fucking wall,” I sigh, using my other hand to rub my forehead. The thought of trying to figure it out—potentially for days—is already giving me a headache.
Killian grunts and climbs out of his bedroll before rising to his full height. Well, kind of: his neck is tilted a bit to the side as his head brushes the roof of the tent. “I’ll come. You shouldn’t be wandering alone.”
I nearly roll my eyes but I understand his protectiveness, and he is right. With the attempts on my life and the near constant ambushes, I need to be more aware and keep my wits about me. “I would like that very much, thank you.”
“Rav?” Nero’s sleepy voice enters my mind.
I glance over at him on the little earthen perch I magicked for him before bed. “Just going on a walk with Kill. Sleep; I’ll wake you if anything exciting happens.”
He sighs and nestles back down. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he mumbles before falling back asleep.
“Shall we?” I whisper to Kill, gesturing to the tent door, with a small smile tugging at my lips. Some time alone with him is maybe exactly what we need. After all, I’m hoping that yesterday’s display of my mate bond theory would ease his worries, and maybe we can finally move forward.
He moves without another word, and I quickly glance around the tent at my other sleeping mates, glad I didn’t wake them. They need as much rest as they can get.
I dip out of the tent, the flap falling quietly behind me as I suck in a breath of fresh dewy morning air.
The stars are still out and the moon hangs regally in the sky, nearly full.
It’s a beautiful night despite everything that’s happening around us in the realm, like the oppression of the lesser fae and non magicals, the corrupted and missing dragons, my mother and the kingdom she locked away.
“What are you thinking about?” Killian asks as I fall into step beside him.
I peer up at him out of the corner of my eye. “Everything. Sometimes I wish for the peace we had as fledglings, hiding under that table with our books again when everything got to be too much. Except back then our problems seemed much smaller.”
He hums, and we fall into a comfortable silence as we make our way toward the boundary and the path bordered by forest beyond it that we can’t walk down.
After a moment he speaks. “Those memories got me through a lot. I would slip into the thoughts of you and your fairytales that you’d whisper aloud.
Tales of princes and love. Even though I never thought I would have those things, especially after I lost you… You helped even when you were gone.”
My fingers slip into his and I squeeze his hand. He squeezes back gently and doesn’t pull away. “I’m here now,” I tell him.
“You are,” he agrees as we come across some boulders that I decide would make a good spot to sit. He focuses on the surrounds for a moment before obviously deciding they are safe and relaxing his massive frame.
My gaze follows where his went, to the magick boundary only a few feet away, and I sigh. I can’t even focus on Kill the way he deserves when I still need to figure this out. But all I see is a decaying path and abandoned houses, with zero sign of any fae who might give us a clue.
Killian leans against the boulder, his shoulder brushing against mine.
“Thank you for your patience with me yesterday. I know this mate bond has been difficult for you because of me.” His voice is slow like he is tasting each word as he speaks.
“I would like to try… but I need patience. I’ve never… ”
I turn toward him and wait for him to find the words he’s looking for.
“There was never anyone else for me but you. I may not have had a romantic attraction to you until Phixmery, but you were always special to me. And I don’t think I can stay away from you any longer… If you want to give this a try?”
Hope blooms in my chest and butterflies erupt. “We can go as slow as you need.”
He squeezes my hand again and takes a slow, steady breath as the tension from his shoulders evaporates. “Thank you.”
“You never need to thank me for that.”
His lip twitches and his cheeks darken minimally before he clears his throat. “Any ideas on how you’re getting through that?” He raises one eyebrow to indicate the invisible barrier behind us.
“I have no idea. If my mother intended for me to one day take back the throne, then there must be a way through, right? I’ve tried pushing through it, but it didn’t work.
I’ve tried using my magick but I only got the same results.
There has to be something, and I feel like it’s staring me right in the face but I’m blind. ”
He hums and we fall into a comfortable silence again as the birds sing their songs and the eeriness of the forest in the distance lifts with the breaking of dawn. The scene before me is familiar yet it feels strange, like looking at everything through a lens. Almost like a dreamscape but waking.
“You all said that after my mother was dea—taken, and your fathers secured the palace and made their reports of my fathers deaths, that was when everyone was removed from the city?” I ask as I get up from the boulder and move closer.
The soft steps of boots in the grass follow me, so it doesn’t surprise me when his voice comes from right behind. “According to the reports Talyn and Jesper found, yes. It went up about a day after, why?”
“Then how did she manage to get it up without her being here? Unless Craven didn’t take her right away? Sorry, my brain is all over the place. I should be figuring out how to take it down, not how it went up.”
After a second Killian clears his throat. “What about blood?”
Wait.
I spin so fast that I nearly collide against him. His strong, warm hands land on my shoulders to steady me as I tilt my head back to stare up at him. “Why blood?”
He lets me go with one hand and scratches the nape of his neck.
“When Jesper and I followed you under Phixmery, I couldn’t figure out how you got the door open, and we couldn’t open it even with the words.
But you fell and sliced your hand on the cave floor.
Then we found out it was your blood that opened it. What if it’s the same?”
Fucking Fates. Why didn’t I think of that? My mother even mentioned blood doors to me back at Vathia. A sense of truth settles in my bones as I mull over the idea. It must be it. It has to be.
Without hesitating I pull a small dagger from Killian’s belt since I don’t have any blade on me but my sword, which seems over-dramatic, and slice my hand open before he can stop me.
“Ravina! Fucking voids, female! I didn’t mean to slice yourself. Let me look at it.” He goes to grab for my hand, but I dance out of his grasp and dart with my hand out until I hit the barrier.
My heart sinks as nothing happens. I pull my bloodied hand away, dread poisoning the hope that started to take root. Of course it couldn’t be that easy.
“Rav, look,” Killian whispers in confusion, and as I look to where he’s staring, I can’t help but gasp.
My bloodied handprint is floating in front of us, slowly evaporating into the barrier.
The second the last speck of my crimson life’s blood vanishes, a loud crack echoes through the air and the shield shatters, sparkling dust floating around us.
“Killian!” I point towards where the ruins of my old home lie, but no more are they ruins.
It looks like what I remember from my fledglinghood.
The path before us is smooth and well-kept leading through unscorched trees to roof upon roof towered over by white stone spires. It’s whole—not a scorch mark in sight.
A voice gasps from the forest trail in front of us, and Killian goes on alert as cloven hooves click against the cobbled path and a fae emerges from the shadow of the flourishing trees. Even though it’s been so long, I know this is a satyr, but I don’t recognize his face.
“Princess Maeven?” he asks, awed. “You came back to claim your throne. Just as your mother said you would.”
That’s the moment it clicks. Not everyone was banished from the city. Fae have been living here all along within the protective barrier. The citizens of Maleen live.