Chapter 14
My back muscles scream from sitting upright. My eyes burn from fatigue. Sleep hovers within reach, but I don’t dare take it.
I don’t know what waits for us in Virendrell, and the not knowing coils tightly, keeping me alert.
Minutes stretch into hours as the boat slices through dark water. The sea is calm now, yet my stomach churns all the same. But this nausea has nothing to do with the waves.
It’s him.
Rian’s attention continues to pin me in place even as his oars move in rhythm with Silas’s.
Our pace is steady, our distance from Draven and Darius’s dinghy consistent. Ahead, the white ship cuts through the water with impressive speed, moving farther away with each row from its crew.
I shift on the wooden bench. My hands twist. Waiting is tedious, made worse with Rian’s loaded stare.
Maybe I can pass the time reading the diary?
Before I reach into my satchel for the leather-bound book, I change my mind.
I won’t be able to focus on anything I read while Rian watches.
The markings on my arms lie dormant, but their shape pulses against my skin, their presence an oppressive reminder of promises I made and what my fate will be if I fail. My eyes unfocus, and my thoughts drift.
Lightly calloused hands caress my cheek. Warm brown eyes crinkle at the corners as Lev smiles.
“I care about you, Elara. I want you to be mine.”
My adolescent heart, the one that’s craved acceptance from my peers for so long, soars.
I lean into the most admired boy in town’s touch. A shy smile pulls at my lips. “I want that, too.”
His grin widens, and adoration shines from the depth of his gaze. “Can I kiss—”
A seagull’s cry slices through the memory. Raucous cheers rise from the distant longboat.
I blink, forcing myself to ignore the pain in my heart when I think of Lev’s betrayal.
Ahead of me, Silas twists in his seat, glancing toward the white ship before groaning.
“Thank The Mother,” he mutters. “Finally.”
I peer over his shoulder, squinting. At first, there’s nothing. Only Darius and Draven’s dinghy and the longboat cutting through the water.
Then a thin white line etches itself along the horizon, so faint it nearly disappears into the seam of sea and sky.
I focus on it. The line thickens. Solidifies.
My fingers curl hard around the edge of the bench.
We’re here.
The white structure takes shape. It’s a seawall. Its glittery surface shimmers under the sunlight just like the longboat.
The docks outside of the wall come into view. The light brown wood bobs in the gentle waves, held in place by something I can’t see.
Boats and ships are scattered throughout the water. Some sit at the docks. Others must be anchored to the ocean floor. None are occupied.
A loud horn blares from behind the walls. It’s met with an equally loud horn that originates from the longboat.
I look at the ship of men. Their oars are drawn in. Unnatural wind in their sails takes them to the largest dock, set in the middle of all the others.
“You ready for this, Rian?” Silas asks.
My gaze drops to the scholarly Fae. Tight lines carve the sides of his mouth.
For the first time in hours, the heat of Rian’s stare shifts off me.
“It’s already done,” the Shadow Prince replies, voice low and even.
A prickle crawls up my neck.
What does that mean?
Silas dips his chin, then continues to row us to Virendrell.
Our dinghy arrives at the dock behind Draven and Darius’s. The brothers are already out of their boat, their belongings strapped to their backs, along with swords at their waists.
They help Silas and Rian secure our boat, then haul the last of the gear onto the dock.
Across the way, the longboat rests against the far side of the dock. Its crew disembarks, boots thudding as they head down the long walkway toward the glittering seawall.
When I stand, pins and needles bite into my legs, blood rushing back too fast. I hiss and shuffle forward.
A hand appears in front of my face. Darius.
Ignoring his instigating wink, I grab his hand and let him pull me up.
I rock to the side as the dock sways. Darius keeps a hand on my back for balance.
I wait for a flirtatious remark to leave his lips, but it never comes.
Rian vaults onto the dock, shadows skittering away like startled snakes. His gaze sweeps the pier, sharp and searching, and pointedly passes over me.
I tell myself I prefer it that way, ignoring how the marks on my arms tighten.
One of the men from the longship approaches, not sparing the shadows a second glance, confirming Draven’s mindspeak is still in effect. “We will escort you through the city, but you must leave your weapons here.”
Over his shoulder, five more men stand, hands resting on the pommels of their swords.
Draven raises a hand and snaps. Shadows fly from his fingers to the six men and slip into their minds.
“We keep our weapons,” he says.
The man’s eyes cloud with smoke. He blinks until they clear. “Of course. This way.”
His boots thump against the dock as he joins his companions. The men continue toward the wall without waiting to confirm that we follow.
It’s not like we have anywhere else we could go.
“Draven,” Rian clips.
The surly Fae grunts and follows the men. Silas goes next.
Darius’s hand on my back falls away, and he extends his elbow. “Shall we?”
My gaze bounces from his arm to Rian’s dark eyes. Only, the prince isn’t looking at me.
Rian stares after his friend, his jaw rigid.
I slip my hand through Darius’s arm, and we follow the sailors.
I don’t know what I expected of the mysterious land where humans and Fae allegedly coexist in peace.
Perhaps a village tucked away in the wilderness like Verdanthia.
Or a small group of individuals who travel for a living, never staying in one place for fear of being discovered by their enemies.
I suppose I’ll find out soon.
At the end of the dock, we reach a paved walkway that leads to the lone entrance, embedded in the wall surrounding the mysterious town beyond.
Sailors and fishermen move freely through the opening. Two armed men stand at their posts. Each one stiffens when they notice the Fae, but a single word from one of our escorts has them stepping aside.
We’re allowed through, but the men’s glares cling to us until the road bends and we disappear from view.
I don’t make it two steps onto the new road before I stop short. Still clutching Darius’s arm, I pull him to a halt beside me.
“Elara?” He glances at the people who part to move around us, curiosity flickering in their gazes.
Unlike the armed men, there’s no hatred in their expressions.
“What’s wrong?” Darius asks.
Nothing is wrong.
Far from it.
White stone archways line the broad street, spaced with deliberate precision. Above us, crowds move along elevated walkways, rooftop to rooftop, forming a second level of activity overhead. Dark metal railings trace the paths, wrought into gilded filigree that catches the light.
At street level, the same metal twists into elegant sconces affixed to gleaming facades. Sunlight strikes the stone and glass, forcing me to shield my eyes as it scatters in brilliant flashes.
I thought Port City was stunning.
But this…
This is something else entirely.
Beautiful. Impossibly so.
There isn’t a single smear of grime or dirt in sight. It’s as though the city itself refuses imperfection.
“Elara?” Darius taps the hand that rests on his elbow. “Are you all right?”
Farther down the street, the others have stopped and are looking at us expectantly. I avoid their questioning stares and swallow down my awe.
“I’m fine.” I take a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
We catch up with the rest of our group. I don’t stop to admire my surroundings again, though Gods know I want to.
We pass brilliant mosaics on walls, fragrant gardens with carved marble statues, a bubbling fountain with large green lily pads floating over the water. The beauty never ceases, and it’s not limited to the scenery.
The people in the crowd are all lean and healthy. I spot a few elders and children. Everyone else appears close to my age. Their youthful faces are vibrant in the sunshine.
Men and women wear the same long hairstyle as the men from the longboat, their hues varying in warm shades of brown. There’s not a single head of black hair.
Which only makes the Fae stand out even more.
A flash of a reddish hue blurs to my right. My heart leaps into my throat, but swiftly plummets back into my chest when I acknowledge the auburn-headed young woman laughing boisterously isn’t Ferria.
What is my twin doing right now?
Has Anton taken her somewhere as stunning as Virendrell?
Has she come to realize how little we know of the world?
Has she realized the depths of the Elders’ villainy despite their supposed victimhood?
The men charged with overseeing the safety and security of Verdanthia may have been overthrown by General Ironheart and his cronies, but as I gape at the opulence and thriving city around me—as I remember the grandeur of Port City—I loathe them.
The Elders kept Verdanthia in the dark about the real world. They lied about astlerium. They suppressed knowledge. They limited our thoughts. I spent my life living in a cage of their making, only I never saw the bars.
My gaze flickers to the Shadow Fae ahead of me, the same ones I was raised to fear. The same ones I expected cruelty from at every turn.
But the Fae saved me.
Protected me.
A hesitant truth settles, slow and unsteady.
The Fae are not what I was taught. At least…these Fae are not.
Now the bars of my upbringing lie shattered around me. A new world stretches within reach, and the desire to grasp onto it and never let go fuels each of my steps as I follow the Fae through the streets of Virendrell.
The road opens into a vast courtyard. A fountain sits in the center, water arching and splashing around a statue of a man and a woman locked in an intimate embrace. Our escorts guide us straight past it.
I slow, drinking in the artistry, admiring the curve of stone limbs, the tenderness carved into stillness. Then my breath catches.
The female’s ears taper to elegant points.
Fae.
I examine the male. His ears are rounded.
Human.
I blink hard and scan the crowd. People fill the street shoulder to shoulder, yet I don’t glimpse a single uncovered ear. Everyone is attractive. The men are virile. The women are stunning. I can’t tell who is human and who is Fae.
Understanding clicks into place.
The long hair isn’t a fashion choice. It’s camouflage.
We pass beneath gilded gates. Four soldiers come into view.
Pale-gray metal gleams across their chests, polished to a mirror sheen. Matching helmets crown their heads, with long strands of hair spilling free at the back, bound neatly with strips of fabric.
Our escorts lead us to them.
Draven and Silas halt a few paces short. Rian takes position behind them, hands clasped behind his back. Darius and I step into place behind him.
The armored men’s gazes sweep over us, slow and deliberate, measuring.
I can’t tell if I imagine it, but when their eyes reach me, they seem to linger just a heartbeat longer than the rest.
Murmured conversation ensues. I resist the urge to snort.
Fae have superior hearing. Surely the men know that there’s no point in whispering.
I press my lips together and scan my surroundings.
We’re flanked by blooming gardens and lush trees. Birds chirp lovely songs as they flitter between the branches. A pool of water sits in a stone basin, and two bright-blue birds frolic in the liquid, splashing with their wings.
This is paradise.
In Port City, I’d been enamored with the vibrancy weaving throughout the bustling city until poverty presented itself in the eyes of those starving children. But in Virendrell, I didn’t notice a hint of destitution or ruin despite searching for it.
Metal clangs as one of the armor-clad men steps forward. His attention rests on me. “You wish to speak to the mayor?”
My eyes widen.
Silas answers, “Yes, we do.”
The man scowls, glances at the Fae, then returns his disapproving attention to me. “What is your business with our mayor?”
I blink. Why in the Gods is he asking me?
Rian steps to the side, blocking me from view as Silas says, “All will be revealed when we speak with your mayor.”
Boots shift. The air grows heavy.
“You will not speak with our leader until I can ensure you are not a threat.”
Draven’s laugh is low and dark, a ripple that makes the guards flinch.
I can’t see the Fae’s face, but the wary expressions on the armored men tell me it’s daunting.
My hand falls to my side as Darius moves forward. He positions himself next to Rian, leaving me alone.
“We are Shadow Fae,” Draven says. “Your kind views our mere existence as a threat. Tell me…how do you propose we prove we are not a threat?”
The question comes off as a challenge—a challenge the armored men’s pinched lips reveal they don’t wish to answer.
They trade loaded looks. Their resolve cracks. They’re seconds from escorting us to their mayor.
They never get the chance.
The air shifts behind me.
A hand clamps around my arm and wrenches me backward. Pain lances through my still-aching shoulder as I slam into a wall of armor. An iron grip bands across my chest, crushing the breath from my lungs.
I don’t have time to cry out before steel flashes, and cold metal kisses the hollow of my throat.