Chapter 4 Thane Aurex
THANE AUREX
In Sombra, we don’t use swords. Not even Duke Haures’s guard wields such a weapon. Why should they? When a demon’s horns and claws cause more than enough damage in a fight, and the threat of being left to the beasts at the edge of the shadows is any even bigger one.
That doesn’t mean we don’t have any blades or that I don’t know what they are. Clara’s father, Glaine, is the head of the duke’s soldiers. He has a silver sword that is known as a demon killer, given to him by Duke Haures.
Guess what it does.
Humans can die in a hundred different ways unless they have a Sombran’s essence to grant them immortality.
That doesn’t mean someone like Mom or Dad can’t die.
They can, and one quick slash from a sword to the neck is one of the surefire ways to end their existence.
I’m a halfling. I don’t know what I can survive, but I’d rather not find out when Rafe is in danger and my parents have no idea where I’ve disappeared off to.
So I stay still. The metal is cold. It doesn’t cut, not yet, and there’s no blood drawn, though that can change at any moment. In fact, I feel a hum of magic through the blade, sharp and deliberate, almost like it’s deciding whether I’m worthy of a killing strike.
So, yes, I freeze and only hope that whoever is holding the sword decides against taking my head and my life.
“Well,” a voice says pleasantly, right beside my ear as a warm body presses into my back, “you’re either very brave or very stupid.”
The accent is lilting, something I notice above my sudden fear because it’s easier than focusing on the sharp edge of the sword.
Fae. I’ve been to enough of their realms to recognize it.
Even more interesting, over the pounding in my ears, I can understand what he said.
There’s usually a language barrier between realms—just like how my parents couldn’t understand one another until Dad first triggered the essence exchange—though demon languages all share a base dialect that means I can usually communicate with those in Brille Rouge and Soleil, no problem.
But if I pulled this off, then I’m finally in Noctavara, and I just might have found myself in a fae realm with a fae swordsman who has his sword up against my neck.
Can’t forget that part, and I don’t. I still don’t move, either, waiting to see what he’s going to do. Then, in a voice that’s meant to tell him that I’m nowhere near as terrified as I currently am, I say in Sombran, “You’re standing too close for a friendly ‘hello’, stranger.”
A soft laugh answers me. It’s warm and amused, entirely unbothered by the fact that he’s threatening me wordlessly. I wonder if he was able to understand my flippant reply, and can’t decide if he did even as the blade slowly eases back and away from my skin.
It’s not enough to feel safe, but the right amount to get my panicked heart to start beating again. With Binx standing still at my ankle, I slowly turn to face him.
Fire demon. That’s what Katrin said, both the first time they came to Brille Rouge and their latest return.
She insisted that it was a cadre of fire demon soldiers that attacked before dragging Rafe through a portal into their realm.
His accent suggested otherwise, and one glimpse at the male watching me with unconcealed interest tells me I’m right.
Fae. Not demon, not human, but something else.
They have their own powers, their own abilities, and their own weaknesses.
After I met my first fae, I asked Mom if we had any books about them in the EL.
She’d snickered, mentioning the romance section, but Kennedy took pity on me.
A mage himself, Loki retrieved a small book for me from the School of Mages that spoke of the few fae realms that Sombra had contact with over the ages.
Noctavara wasn’t in there—and after the first time I realized it was blocked to me, I checked again—but Arcadia and the island of Tir na nóg were.
Realms that were ruled by their king or queen, with a court-like structure and people who could glamour and charm, though they were unable to tell a lie.
They had no interest in a relationship with Sombra, though that could be because King Yelios and my namesake, Queen Alana, attempted to invade Arcadia during their reign thousands of years ago.
Most demons think it was just other demon realms they wanted to take over, but according to the book Loki let me borrow, they tried to go after neighboring demon realms, fae realms, even a world full of djinn before Queen Alana perished and King Yelios lost his mind.
No wonder Duke Haures decided to close Sombra off to most realms—until a silly halfling shadow walker decided to use her power to break out of Nuit…
My first instinct now that I’m not in danger of being skewered like a piece of meat is to gather my shadows and rip open a portal that will bring Binx and me back to Sombra.
I try. It doesn’t work. Just like how I struggled to reach Noctavara until the Earth butterfly landed on my finger, I’m blocked.
I’m blocked—and I can feel the weight of the fae’s curious stare on me as I flex my fingers at my side and nothing happens. Figuring I have no other choice, I glance up at him and, yup, there I go again.
I’m stunned.
He’s leaning against a silver-barked tree like he’s been waiting there for me to see him all night, posture loose, attention razor-sharp.
Dark curls fall forward into his amber-colored eyes, catching faint traces of moonlight peeking down on us from the dark sky over our heads.
His grin is sharp and easy, the kind that belongs to someone who knows exactly how dangerous he is.
The hilt of his short sword rests easily in his hand like an extension of himself, both balanced and familiar.
As I peer at it, his grin widens into a joking smile as he slips it into the sheath at his waist. Like the rest of his coverings, it’s dark, swallowing up the glimmering silver blade.
I’m half shadow demon, yet he’s the one who could easily melt into the black of this forest. Well, except for the obvious golden gleam of his fae skin, warring with the strength of the full moon’s glow, that is.
No wonder Katrin believed his people were fire demons.
My first impression of him is of heat, of a glow that breaks through the dark, shadowy forest, and a sensation that I’m burning up from the inside out.
As I stare at him, everything in me tightens as I take in the dark-haired, amber-eyed, pointy-eared stranger who, suddenly, doesn’t feel like much of one at all…
“And you,” he says, gaze sliding over me with open interest—not predatory, not dismissive, just curious—as he keeps his lazy pose despite the way he seems visibly surprised to have found me in his woods, “are not supposed to be here.”
“That makes two of us,” I toss back before I think better of it. It’s like the words have been ripped from me the same way as Binx’s soft chittering down near the dark ground. It’s harder than I’m used to, nothing like the ash of Sombra, but more like the solid floor you find in Earth.
Grass, I remember. That’s what Mom called the green plants growing on the hard earth of her home realm. Noctavara has something similar, something that cushions the ground and keeps my boots from digging deeper as I take a careful step closer to my ungez.
The fae male’s smile deepens now, both slow and knowing. “Oh, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
He’s not speaking Sombran. That much is obvious.
I’d know those harsh grating syllables anywhere, and the clipped words that are Mom’s human language are nowhere as beautiful as the lyrical-sounding sentences he’s been uttering.
Still, I can understand him, and he can understand me, and as long as he keeps that sword hidden, that’s the last thing I need to worry about until I can open the portal, grab Binx, and come up with a plan B to save Rafe.
And maybe I was letting my guard down too quickly because, out of nowhere, Binx lunges up and hurries forward, heading toward the male.
Shadows ripple over the ungez’s sleek form, his white eyes glowing softly in the dim light.
He pauses near the fae’s boots, fluffy tail flicking once as his ears twitch.
The fae’s attention snaps downward.
“Well,” he murmurs, crouching slightly, fascination cutting through his amusement. “You’re new.”
Binx stares at him, unblinking.
“Careful,” I say, staying back though everything in me wants to surge forward and swoop Binx up in my arms. There’s no need. I know that. Binx can take care of himself, and remembering how my soul-pet has shown his annoyance with Rafe more than once, I tack on helpfully, “He bites.”
That earns me a laugh. A real one this time as, for the first time, his eyes lock on mine.
Oh, he was looking me over before, but almost as though he was avoiding direct eye contact, our gazes never met—until now.
If I thought looking at him was a gut punch before, that’s nothing compared to the tremor that runs through me when I look directly into his eyes.
My fingers flex again, of their own accord this go-round, and my tongue suddenly feels too big to be in my mouth.
I tremble, my claws growing, my belly twisting.
My heart skips a beat. I swear, for a moment there, it nearly stops, and I suddenly—suddenly—understand what Stevie meant when she told me that she just knew that Corbin was her fated mate.
Why? Because I’m looking at mine.
This fae male, whoever he is, in my one true mate—and the way his expression doesn’t change at all, his long, slender, golden fingers hovering outstretched toward Binx as he glances at me before looking down at my soul-pet… he has no idea that I recognize him as mine.
If he’s mine, that means I’m his. That’s how mate bonds work. Though not every fated pair has the ability to recognize each other. Humans can’t sense a bond until their demon mate gives them their essence. Is it the same for fae?
I don’t know, and I realize that that’s one detail that the fae book forgot to mention. Probably because it doesn’t seem often that fae and demons mate, but if he’s mine, then the gods have a wicked sense of humor considering how my supposed mate greeted me with a sword to my neck.
Should I tell him? I open my mouth to say something, anything, when Binx jumps up, sinking his fangs into the fae’s finger.
For a second, I stare, watching the shock flicker across the fae’s sculpted features as Binx hangs on tight.
The fae rises up to his full height. Binx still hasn’t let go.
This time, I do hurry forward. Mate or not, I don’t know this male.
I don’t trust him. If he tries to hurt Binx, I’ll have to stop him.
Instead of shaking his hand to get the ungez to release him, he just arches his eyebrows and waits for Binx to let go. Once I bury my fingers through the edges of Binx’s shadows, my soul-pet recognizes me. He relaxes his tiny jaw so that I can lift him up and off of the fae.
Two puncture wounds cover the top of his finger. Glittery golden blood seeps from the holes, and since he seems more surprised by them than angry, I can’t help but say, “Told you so.”
He cocks his head. “So you did.”