Chapter 7
Shadows curl around my wrists like shackles, yanking me back before I can form a response. The fabric of the tent flutters as I’m pulled through the opening, and the dim interior vanishes behind me.
The Fae camp is deathly silent.
Dozens of unblinking eyes track my retreat. The Fae soldiers don’t move. They don’t speak. They just watch, assessing if I’m prey or off limits. The intensity of their stares strains my already frayed nerves.
I stumble over a jagged stone embedded in the path. My arms pinwheel. Jaxon reaches for me, but the shadows twisting around my arm react first, keeping me upright with unnatural strength. The magical tug jerks me sideways, and I trip again.
Jaxon spares me a brief glance before leading me to the gnarled bush we walked through to enter the clearing.
My heart jumps into my throat, but I stifle my protest. There’s only one way to get back to town, and it’s through the daunting forest that haunts my every childhood nightmare. But I have a Fae at my side. I should be fine.
No. I will be fine.
I step through the bush with my head held high, shoving aside the horrific vision of a klarv creeping along the forest floor to swallow me whole, not even leaving a finger bone behind for anyone to find.
A cloud slips over the moon, cloaking the woods in near-total darkness. A branch scratches my cheek.
“Ow!” I clutch my face.
The cut isn’t deep, but it stings—a warning bite from the forest itself.
The shadows on my arms tighten and guide me to the left, then yank me down so I hunch over, seemingly guiding me through the dark woods. Goose bumps rise across my skin. The sensation feels wrong. It’s not comforting or protective. It feels like…possession.
I lift my right arm and feel, more than see, the darkness curling tightly around my wrist.
“What are these?” I ask, voice trembling.
“Shadows,” Jaxon replies without looking my way.
I bite back a snarky reply. “Yes, I know they’re shadows, but how are they guiding me? Are they...yours?”
The clouds above pull back, allowing moonlight to once again illuminate our damp path.
“For the time being, they belong to you,” he says, sidestepping a massive tree trunk covered in dark fungi. “They will ensure you uphold your end of the bargain.”
A knot forms in my stomach.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “About your friend. I truly am.”
The canopy thins ahead, and more slivers of moonlight pierce the gloom.
“I believe you,” Jaxon says.
I dare to hope, just a little. “Then you must believe I can’t do what you ask. I don’t understand Fae magic. I don’t have the knowledge or the power to heal someone like him.”
My magic stirs faintly inside me, sluggish and bruised, still reeling from whatever it touched in the tent. I’m too afraid of its discovery to be relieved. I shove the magic down, begging it to remain dormant.
“Draven believes you can.”
I scowl at the male’s broad back. “And he is an authority on the healing arts?”
“No.” Jaxon ducks beneath a low-hanging branch, then holds it up for me. “But Rian and I will not deny him this.”
Rian.
The name rolls through me like a quiet shiver—unexpected, oddly resonant. The olive-skinned Fae finally has a name.
I walk under the branch and stop to look at Jaxon, but he continues moving before I can ask what he means.
A rustling sound comes from behind me, and I rush to follow the Fae. I have no desire to be in the forest alone.
Silence settles between us. My ears strain, and I whip my head from side to side as I listen for any sign of the predators known to traipse these woods. But just as before, I’m greeted with eerie quiet.
“Tell me about yourself, little human.” Jaxon’s light tenor disrupts the still night air. “You’re quite young to be such a renowned healer.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” I sidestep a pile of fallen leaves resembling a nest, not wanting to piss off whatever frightening creature may call it home.
“Oh, I doubt that,” he says, his voice laced with something I can’t place—interest, maybe. Or threat.
I stiffen, but quickly relax so I don’t raise suspicion.
I have no inkling if the Fae have discovered my secret and are pretending otherwise. At the moment, they believe they need me. Would they overlook the fact that I possess magic to give me time to help their friend?
I doubt it.
Fae slaughtered people like me long before my fellow humans took up the cause. They called us abominations…liabilities. If the Fae knew what I am, what I can do, I’d be dead.
By some miracle, my secret is still safe. And I’ll need the favor of all the Gods to keep it that way.
Jaxon continues maneuvering through the forest, unbothered by my lack of reply.
We walk in silence—well, he walks. I stagger, dragged along by shadows that seem to know the ominous forest better than I ever could.
Suddenly, Jaxon halts.
I rear back to avoid colliding with him, my foot catching on a protruding root. I nearly fall, but again the shadows lift me with that awful, weightless strength. I feel like a puppet with a thousand invisible strings.
“Well, well…” A sneer drags Jaxon’s voice down into a taunting rumble. “I didn't know I’d have toys willing to play with me this evening. The Mother must favor me.”
Branches rustle ahead. Blood drains from my face.
The memory of the Onyx Wraith—its gaunt, starving features and rows of serrated, sharp teeth surrounded by cracked, bleeding lips—burns my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, trying to clear away the horrible image, but its cackle sounds in my ears. So loud, I think it’s real.
My eyes fly open, and I prepare to run—far away from whatever lies ahead—but the shadows don’t let me take more than a step before they hold me in place.
Shit!
“We’ve come for Elara.” A familiar voice cuts through the night.
I blink, realization slamming into me. We’ve reached the forest’s edge, and beyond it, Verdanthia gleams faintly, the southern shacks etched in torchlight.
A lantern flares in the middle of the path leading to town, the flames disrupting the dark night, held high by a familiar form.
“Lev?”
“Elara!” Lev shouts.
He’s not alone. Four others stand with him, weapons drawn, righteous anger blazing in their eyes while scarves hide the lower halves of their faces.
The warmth that rises in my chest is ridiculous.
I know these men are here to support Lev. Still, the fact anyone in Verdanthia would risk themselves for my sake reignites my never-ending desire to prove my worth—to risk draining every last drop of my magic to help them. To finally feel accepted, Kinless child or not.
“Are you hurt?” Lev calls.
He speaks with so much concern it nearly undoes me.
I try to answer, but Jaxon steps in front of me.
“What are you doing here, little soldier?”
“Release her,” Lev says. “She’s not yours to take.”
Jaxon snorts. “Indeed?”
The Fae turns, his eyes gleaming in the dark as he studies me. There’s something maddeningly amused in his smile.
“Your man is brave,” he says. “Foolish, but brave.”
I grit my teeth.
Jaxon faces Lev again. The shadows surge, dragging me forward—too fast. My feet scramble to keep up.
“Sleep well, Elara Stonebloom,” Jaxon calls out with an airy voice. “Tomorrow, your work begins.”
I’m hurled from the treeline and into Lev’s waiting arms.
His sword clangs against the ground and his glass lantern rattles as he drops both to catch me.
His hands tremble, but his grip holds firm as he grasps my shoulders and leans back to check me over. “Are you hurt?”
“I-I’m fine.” My teeth chatter.
I look back at the forest, but Jaxon is gone.
One of the men snatches up the lantern before the flames die out, stepping back in line with the others. They study the treeline with sharp, fearful eyes.
Lev pulls me against his chest and holds me tight. “Thank the Gods, Lara.”
I sag into him, comforted for a heartbeat.
Then he asks, “What happened? What did the Fae want?”
I stiffen and draw my head back to meet my oldest friend’s worried eyes. My lips part to tell him all that’s transpired, but fire blazes around my neck.
I yelp, dropping like a stone as my legs give out. The men around Lev shout in alarm, weapons raised against the invisible threat.
“Elara!” Lev hoists me back up, eyes frantic. “What’s wrong?”
The pain ebbs the moment I stop trying to speak—the second I accept I can’t tell him what happened in the woods.
About the clearing. The camp filled with enemy soldiers. The dying Fae.
Any of it.
Damn it!
Frustrated tears burn the backs of my eyes.
“I made a mistake, Lev.” The fiery warning simmers against my neck, reminding me to watch what I say, reminding me of the deal I never should have made. “A huge, unforgivable mistake.”