1. THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM
“Calm your storm.” Roirdan’s words were a growl as he assessed my shaking hands.
I slowly blinked and looked over at him.
How can I be calm at a time like this?
“I’m trying my best,” I said through clenched teeth.
My power was indeed a raging storm, swirling in a torrent beneath my skin, licking its way to the surface with each breath I took.
It had been four days. Four days since Niall had been stolen away from me with Old Magic at the hands of that snake, Ramil. Four days of absolute hell being separated from my mate.
My mind was hollow without his shadows swirling in on a phantom wind to rally my light. If I’d had it my way, I would’ve acted to get him back the day after—hours after. Immediately, if I could have. But Aremis, being the voice of reason, had reminded me that we needed a plan.
Ever since Aremis and I escaped the clutches of death and imprisonment, I’d gone over everything in my head repeatedly. What went wrong? How did we not see it coming? And most importantly, what could be done about it?
During our first night back, the Trium and I spent hours formulating plans to return to Benmoor and retrieve Niall, but every idea ended in blood-boiling frustration, because our biggest obstacle was getting back into the Desert Court in the first place.
We couldn’t just show up at the gate and wait to be let in.
That would alert Ramil and give him ample time to do his worst to Niall, if he hadn’t already.
And that was if he decided to let us back into his territory at all.
We knew we had to enter unseen and unannounced.
That night, I’d lain in bed while my power thrashed in my veins, like it was telling me it had all the answers, and I wasn’t listening.
I spent hours wracking my brain for every possible idea of how to get past Benmoor’s gate until I was crying into my pillow.
Then, I remembered something Maeson had said back in Elandrew.
Niall had drawn an eerily similar conclusion when he first witnessed my ability to command objects at my will.
Both of them had mentioned wards . . . That there was a chance I could break them . . . command them.
When the idea made my power settle into a pulsing rhythm, I knew that I’d figured out what it had been trying to tell me.
My power didn’t just have the answer, it was the answer—the key to getting Niall back.
That same night, I found Aremis in his chamber, hunched over his desk, deep in his perilous thoughts amidst the glow of a dozen barely burning candles.
His eyes sparked with hope at my revelation, and sleep was entirely forgotten.
He immediately stood from the table and pushed his physical shield out around him, telling me to bring it down.
Whether it was desperation, sleep deprivation, or both, I flung my power toward it and commanded his shield to fall.
I didn’t see it happen, but I felt it. And then, a victorious smile spread across his face as he said the words, “Ward breaker.”
We’d spent the rest of that night investigating—using simple objects, like a book that was warded to be permanently closed. When I successfully opened it, Aremis concluded, with unwavering certainty, what Niall and Maeson had only guessed at.
Up until then, I had practiced bending things to my will by just imagining the outcome.
I’d been successful most of the time, but breaking wards was a different game, one that required a more tactical approach if it was to be done on the scale we needed.
A warded book was simple to break. A shield proved easy as well.
But bringing down a territorial ward that was put in place to safeguard an entire court?
That would take more power than I had ever used before.
Our plan, in theory, was that I would wipe away Benmoor’s territorial wards—temporarily. Long enough for the five of us to port to the entry gate and slip past. From there, we would get Niall, and get out.
With Aremis and Remic’s guidance, I’d made my first practice attempts at Calledan’s eastern gate—the one bordering Vahrenhall, a territory we trusted.
We didn’t know for certain if I had the ability to manipulate a single section of wards, or if it would affect the entirety of them all at once.
So Roirdan had been stationed at the northern gate, and Maeson at the one to the west, to monitor, in case those sections simultaneously fell as I practiced.
Aremis instructed me to envision the well of power within me and draw from it to fuel my attempts. I’d only needed to tap into it just as I’d done before.
So, I tried.
And failed.
My efforts hadn’t even been enough to make the wards tremble. A few stones around me had rattled loose, but the wards held firm. By the end of that day, I’d exhausted myself trying, and Aremis made me call it quits so that I could rest.
Again, I found myself lying in Niall’s bed, surrounded by the scent of him, going over everything he had taught me. He’d always spoken of power like it was a well within someone, and if one descended deep enough into it, they could summon greater amounts.
That was when I knew I hadn’t been summoning enough.
We hadn’t gotten that far into my training yet.
I’d tapped into my power, but I’d never plunged into the core of it.
Not like this task required. And if all I’d been doing was skimming off the surface for something as monumental as bringing down a territory’s wards, it wasn’t nearly enough.
The type of undertaking I was attempting would require me to dig deeper, to descend into the depths of what truly resided within me, until I either succeeded, or ran my well of power down to nothing.
The following day, I plunged into my well without a second thought. I closed my eyes, cleared my mind, and imagined the knot in my core like Niall had said. It unraveled, leading me down, down, down, into a chasm that was beyond what I’d imagined.
I’d sunk only a fraction of the way into it, when I decided that was enough, and reached out for the wards. I instinctively raised my hand—as if to touch them—and called forth my power from the depths of that bottomless pit inside me, commanding it with one word.
Fall.
I felt the shift in the atmosphere as my power surged beneath my skin, skyrocketing forth from the well, and pumping through my veins like pure energy. Then, I heard Remic’s confirming words, just before I blacked out.
When I awoke seven hours later, I’d learned that I’d done it.
The wards had fallen for about four seconds.
That was more than enough time for us to bypass Ramil’s watchful eye and enter Benmoor.
With this advantage, we no longer needed to create a diversion.
Once inside, we could move quickly—with Morah’s insight—and return to Calledan without being noticed.
What we didn’t need was for me to pass out after one bout of power usage in Benmoor. I needed to be able to command the wards more than once if we wanted to get in, get Niall, and get out successfully.
So, I spent all of yesterday morning at the eastern gate, practicing, hoping to build up my stamina so as to not drain nearly as quickly. Using power was like training a muscle: the more you put it to use, the stronger it would become.
After a few hours, Remic gracefully flew me home and tucked me into bed. Thankfully, I awoke only two hours later and was greeted with Aremis delivering food to my chambers.
The rest of the night, I’d tossed and turned in a fitful sleep, anticipating the real task.
I was desperate to see Niall, to hold him again and hear him say my name.
Part of me wished I could dish Ramil a hearty dose of vengeance while I was within his borders, but the time for that would come later.
Getting my mate back was the top priority, and doing it without being found out was of the utmost importance.
Three hours ago, Morah, Maeson, Roirdan, Remic, and I had readied our weapons in the war room of The Keep, preparing to port into Benmoor.
And now, we all stood on the backside of Calledan’s mountain range, where the land sloped into flat plains and continued out into what would eventually become the Desert Court.
This was the closest to Benmoor we could get without leaving our territory.
From here, Remic would take me, and Roirdan would take Maeson and Morah to the gate.
Once there, I would have precious seconds to knock out the wards to allow us to slip through, and Morah would have to muster her power to port all five of us into Benmoor.
Porting herself and another fae used a bit of power, but porting four others .
. . that was going to be a significant strain.
There would be no wraith-walking for her once we got into her home territory.
Thankfully, she wouldn’t need to call upon that power.
We would only need her insight to find Niall.
If I did my job quickly enough, Ramil wouldn’t have time to recognize who was at the gate. If I failed, we would more than likely be held there. And none of us wanted to face what might await us should that happen.
Aremis stayed back in Calledan. His weaponry skills were more than impressive, and his Aura was an unmatched advantage, but as Niall’s second, if something were to go terribly wrong and none of us came home, he would have to assume control and delegate command of the Mountain Court.
He was an asset best kept in the heart of our territory.
I had pulled him aside earlier and expressed my gratitude for his strength and rationale once again.
I could see exactly why he was Niall’s second.
He had been able to make the hard decision to get me out of Benmoor after the poisoning.
If we would have lingered another minute, we’d be locked away as captives ourselves.
But thanks to him, we had a chance to free my mate.
As for the rest of us, we all knew our jobs.
Morah would get us in, and her loyalists would get us underground, unseen.
Roirdan and Remic were our swords and shields.
Maeson was armed with a plethora of remedies and herbs to combat any type of poisons we might encounter, and of course, her fire was at our disposal.
My goal was to remain focused and break any wards that might be holding Niall down once we got to him.
When we had him in hand, Roirdan would port Maeson and Morah back, and Remic would port me and Niall.
I could port on my own, but I didn’t trust myself with long distances yet, and now was not the time to find out if I could, especially since I was going to be using the vast majority of my power on this rescue mission.
Everything was riding on me.
I forced my jaw to unclench. Roirdan was right, I needed to calm the storm building inside me. I rolled my shoulders, trying to ease the tension, then checked that my sword was secured at my side.
All of us were armed with blades this time.
Remic had thrown on a glamour, keeping his wings out of sight, in case we were spotted.
He had also changed his ears from their rounded form to pointed tips, like a fae.
The glamour would have probably done wonders for anyone else, but his stern and haunted expression was enough to make anyone look twice and question him.
“We all remember the plan, right?” Morah asked.
“Take these,” Maeson said, handing out thick black cloths. “If you see the faintest hint of smoke, cover your nose and mouth immediately. I’ve coated them with ambrosia to counteract any type of inhalants.”
We tucked away the cloths, and I double-checked that I had the map Aremis had drawn of the tunnel system beneath the city.
I turned to Morah, thanking her for helping us.
She gave me a strained smile. “Don’t thank me yet. We need to find Niall first. If he’s being held in the catacombs as Aremis believes, my loyalists can only get us so far. After that, we’re on our own.”
A few days ago, when I was at a standstill in my attempts, Aremis had spent half the day spying.
When his Aura returned, all it could confirm was that the catacombs had been sealed off with more wards—more so than when it was just Morah’s brother, Fallon, being kept there.
Ramil knew the power he held within those walls now, and he knew that I would be coming for Niall sooner or later.
What he didn’t know was when, or how. Or who I would bring with me.
“Let’s make this quick,” Remic said.
Roirdan smirked. “Ah, the famous last words of all the females you’ve taken to bed.”
I whipped my head to Roirdan and caught Remic rolling his eyes.
Morah cackled loudly.
“Males.” Maeson shook her head.
The humor was appreciated, though. It reminded us of what we were as a unit.
We were more than just acquaintances now.
These were my friends who had quickly become my family.
Situations like this only sped up that process.
They forced us to learn things about each other that would have otherwise taken years, and helped to solidify a trust that ran thick as blood.
I was also quickly learning that Roirdan enjoyed making anything and everything into either a challenge, or a sexual joke.
“On my mark,” Remic instructed. He wasn’t doing himself any favors by that choice of words either. I couldn’t help but let a smile spread across my lips, knowing Roirdan would find a way to create some sort of sexual innuendo out of that too.
Roirdan coughed and snickered to himself again, and I jabbed an elbow into his ribs before he could say whatever sly remark was dancing on the tip of his tongue. He batted my arm away with a grin and adjusted the sword at his hip.
Remic’s face remained serious, focused ahead on a fixed point that I couldn’t see. He counted us down. “Three . . .”
Everyone straightened. Roirdan’s humor sobered.
I took in a breath.
“Two . . .”
This had to be quick.
Land, picture the wards, command them to fall.
“One . . .”
All five of us ported.
And the clock began ticking.