Chapter 25
MAX
The wall parts like water, dripping over my body. It’s not quite wet but cold, and I hold my breath, afraid it’ll drown me just the same.
On the other side of the door, a blade finds my throat.
Reid blinks before it drops with a clang and he crushes me into a hug. Fee stands behind him, with purple circles under her eyes wide. It’s the only sign of her worry. Mal touches her arm and she jolts, throwing her arms around his neck, bodies pressed tight.
It’s the biggest display I’ve seen from the warrior princess.
“You’re alive,” Reid breathes, pulling me back to look me over. The prince is covered in bruises, eyes sunken, and lips dry. They’re being kept here, though not by great standards.
“I could say the same thing about you.” Fee has yet to release Mal, pressing so close, I’m afraid she’ll hurt him. Oddly enough, he hasn’t let her go either. “Are you alright?”
“We’re thriving.” Reid gestures to the wall. “Aoife is smart. Made us a prison I can’t break out of.”
“Who is that?” Fee asks, looking over Mal’s shoulder. In the corner, Layla stands there, looking at the dark sky, her pale face serene. She seems to glow, reflecting the stars overhead, drinking in the moon like a source of water. Maybe it is for her.
Reid swallows loudly, and he wipes his hands on his pants. “You see her too, right?”
“You’re not imaging her,” I remark, turning Layla to the rest of the group. Reid’s eyes grow larger. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the Fae was speechless. “This is Layla. Another prisoner of Aoife’s.”
“We’re breaking her out,” Mal adds. “And she’s a daughter of Nylxa.”
Fee gasps. Apparently even the Dark Fae have heard the tales.
Before the princess can pull her sword, I intervene. “We have her word she won’t kill anyone. We just wanted to get her out.” I have no idea what Aoife is planning with the half-goddess, but I’d rather let her free than risk it.
Fee seems to understand, and nods. “Fine. Then let’s get out of here.”
Layla finds the exit, hand going through without a whisper. Being a daughter of a goddess has its benefits, particularly when it comes to magic. Mal is the last to leave and Fee turns to the left, intent to escape the palace. Before she can, I yank on her arm.
“We can’t leave. Not yet.”
“Max, he’s lost,” Fee’s voice trembles. “And you know how much that pains me to say. But it’s true. Whatever Aoife has done, has altered him. Kaden is not the Fae we love anymore. We have to get out before Aoife kills us if there is a chance at saving the world.”
“Technically, she won’t kill Max.” Fee glares at her brother, but his eyes haven’t left Layla.
“Not unless she wants to kill Kaden.” Mal crosses his arms. “But I agree with Fee. If we try to get the Dark King, it won’t end well for any of us.”
“And I just got released,” Fee reminds me. “I’d rather not go back.”
“I understand.” And it’s agony to admit they’re right. Everything in me rebels at leaving my husband to his fate, but they have a valid point.
Aoife will kill them, and keep me imprisoned. And I can’t save anyone if I’m trapped.
But I can still save Kaden.
“We need the spell book,” I tell them, squaring my shoulders. “If we can get it, we can bring it to Baris. We can figure out what she did to Kaden and counteract it.”
“Did you suddenly grow the ability to cast spells and make potions?” Fee rubs the bridge of her nose. “This can be a foolish endeavor. What if we can’t find it? What if we only find Aoife? We should focus on the world and Griffin coming for our court.”
“I can go alone,” I offer. “But we need that book. For Kaden and for Griffin. It’s the only way to stop all of this.”
If we get the book, we can break whatever Aoife did. We can save the world.
Fee groans, glancing around. No one comes near us. Apparently, these levels were all forbidden. Aoife must have never wanted anyone to find the Moorgate siblings nor Layla.
“Fine, blood summoner.” She points at me, fangs drifting over her bottom lip. “But if we die, I’m making your life a living Hell in the Underworld.”
Turning to Mal, I ask, “Any ideas?”
“You assume she talks to me. I’m not Fenrir.”
I sigh, looking to the ceiling. He has a point. Only the heir would probably know.
He seemed strange last we spoke—besides the whole throwing me into the dungeon thing. It’s as if his whole self has been erased and he’s someone different.
Much like Kaden.
“Find Fenrir,” I command, eyes unfocused. “If we find him, we may be able to discover where the spell book hides.”
“You think Aoife is using him to hide it?”
I shrug. “Or he’s seen it. He is her favorite. I have a suspicion that whatever she did to Kaden is the same to Fenrir.”
“He did seem weird in the throne room,” Reid says, rubbing his chin.
Going back through the servants passages, we stay silent. The lower we go, the closer to other Fae we get. Any guard who sees us will turn us in. Any servant might discover us and run to Aoife for a reward. We can’t risk it.
Once back on the main level, Mal checks the hall, allowing us to dart across to an empty room. Other than the same gold walls, there are a few tables covered in sheets, and a large map in the far back. It lists out the Fae kingdoms, and the In-Between.
Layla walks over to it, studying the parchment in the darkness. Her fingers trail the In-Between, following the long, dotted boundary. I never realized how big it was, and why it would only be for the Fairies. It’s in the hardest places to travel on foot, that one would need wings to patrol it.
She sighs, glancing to me. Mal and Fee keep the door open a crack, watching as two guards pass in clunky boots. We hold our breath as we pray to Azure for good luck and stay hidden.
“You’ve been here.” She taps the boundary.
“The In-Between?” I whisper. “Yes. We had to stop soldiers from attacking lords.”
She shakes her head. “The In-Between has two meanings. The realms between kingdoms and the realm between life and death, where one goes during sleep.” She points to her skull. “Only few can ever enter it.”
“Can you?”
Layla sighs. “Yes. Nylxa is the Goddess of the Night, and sleep is in her domain.” She seems sad and I put my hand on her shoulder. “You should be careful in this realm. It is not safe.”
Don’t I know it.
“Clear,” Fee calls back. We all slink through the halls, keeping to the shadows. Mal leads us, with Fee and I behind him. Reid stays with Layla, almost protectively keeping himself to the outside as a shield.
Reid is a good Fae, strong and honorable. But he’s never been like this before. He gravitates to her and it seems by his furrowed brow, he doesn’t know why either.
At the end of the hall, is another staircase. At my confused look, Mal gestures for us to go in. “All the royals have their own stairs for servants. At the top is one door. It’s Fenrir’s room.”
He locks the door behind us, taking the lead once more. “I’ll enter. Do not do anything to interrupt us.”
Reid snorts. “Have you met us before?”
“I’m coming,” I declare. My fingers tremble, magic pulsating in my gut. Something tells me I need to be in there, and I will not ignore my instincts.
Mal opens his mouth to argue, but Fee shakes her head. It’s best to let her do this, it says, and the prince sighs. At least someone gets it.
At the top are more gilded walls and a large green gem encrusted door with a singular handle. The torches on each side flicker with life, but there is no other light. The moon outside is the only help as we step forward, the rest of our group holding back.
Mal doesn’t knock. He steps through and I keep to his back, a shadow on the wall.
Fit for a prince, the room is large and lavish, with white blankets, cream drapes and various pieces of artwork. Unlike Kaden’s suite of rooms that feel heavy and thoughtful, this room feels open, superficial, and blank. Not one ounce of Fenrir’s personality shines here.
Rubbing my arms, I glance around, and notice Fenrir staring out the windows of his balcony. His pale hair is loose, his pointed ears catching the rays. Dressed in the same clothes as when he put me in the dungeon, he doesn’t move. Just stares.
What happened to him?
“Brother,” Mal calls, but the Fae doesn’t move. “Are you well?”
Silence. It’s unnerving.
Slowly, we move closer, taking care not to make a noise.
“Fenrir,” Mal says, putting his hand on his shoulder. “What are you looking at?”
Fenrir shrugs, sighing. “I loved her, you know.”
I know immediately who he’s talking about. Sose. The woman who has caused so much strife between him and Kaden. A woman who could not love Kaden’s darkness and suffered for it.
She saw the pieces of him I saw in the ritual. Pieces that I should’ve understood better, but I can’t change it. I already love him, and will continue to do so. I will fight for him, because no one else will.
Mal nods, smiling slightly. “I know. She would’ve made a beautiful bride.”
“Mother didn’t want her with Kaden.” I exchange a look with Mal, both of us somber. “She knew if Sose could love him, she’d break the curse.”
He sounds so lost and confused. If not for his actions, I’d feel sympathetic to his plight.
But he put a blade to my throat and threw me into a cell. I don’t exactly like him.
“Sose wasn’t from the prophecy, though,” Mal reasons. He gently breaks into Fenrir’s view, looking into his brother’s eyes. “Mother was worried over nothing.”
“She was jealous.” He sighs. “She sent me to break them up. But I fell in love.”
His pain radiates off of him and I have to stop the urge to comfort him.
“Then, Zelos killed her.”
“I can never forgive her.” His voice cracks. “She took my Heartbond from me all because of her jealousy. Her pain. But I have no choice.”
I step to Mal’s side cautiously. “What did she do, Fenrir? Maybe we can help.” My compassion is going to be the death of me.
His green eyes water and he swallows thickly. That flash—the same one I see in Aoife, in Kaden, covers his eyes and he hangs his head.
“Kill me.”
When he looks up again, the tears are gone, and his face is blank. Sorrow doesn’t mar him, nor does it look as if he knows what’s happening. He just… is.
Quickly, his hand flies out, catching me in the chest. Mal intercepts, grabbing Fenrir’s arm and throws him back. Stumbling against the balcony’s railing, I grip tight to the gold and watch the brothers fight.
Fenrir moves effectively, but he isn’t a warrior. Mal is larger, broad of shoulder, with a steady calm that tracks every move Fenrir makes. Fenrir lashes out, stepping from side to side. He acts as if he doesn’t know what to attack first.
Finally, he pulls the sword in his belt, swinging it high. Mal easily steps to the side, the blade missing him with room to spare.
Does he want to fight? Or is he trying to miss?
“Fenrir,” he says, words rumbling between us. “Tell me what’s happening.”
He smirks. It’s cruel and vicious, and he swings again. Mal dodges, never looking away.
“Fight back!” the prince yells. He lunges, but Mal clips him in the chin, Fenrir falling on to his back. A soft oomph leaves his lips, but he doesn’t get back up.
Mal stands over him, assessing. Fenrir glares up, hatred so black it nearly consumes us all. I’ve never seen that from the heir before—and certainly not at his younger brother.
“I’m not going to fight you,” Mal says calmly. “You’re my brother. Brothers don’t wage wars against each other. Tell me where Mother’s spell book is.”
Fenrir looks skyward, laughing. I cover my ears, the sound hitch-pitch and awful. It reminds me of the In-Between and my skin crawls.
“You’ll never find it,” he singsongs. “You’ll never save him.”
“Then we’ll just have to search for it.” Fenrir’s eyes dart to his brother and Mal pauses. “It’s here, isn’t it?”
The heir freezes, glaring with all the might of a burning flame.
“Is it in your secret spot?”
“Secret spot?” I ask. “Like where he hides his journal?”
“Basically.” Mal turns, glancing to the far frame. It’s only slightly off center, the edge tilted up. He grins. “There.”
As he strides across the room, Fenrir scrambles to his feet. I blink, barely missing how the heir raises his sword, and I rush forward. Not to catch him, but to stop.
My magic flares, and I see his heart in my mind. The beating organ pounds with ferocious need, tarnished and blackened. It feels heavy, a weight of stone in the Fae’s chest. Grabbing it, I hold the thread of life tight, a red strand so delicate any sudden movement will break it.
He seems to know that. Before I can yell, Fenrir jerks, head snapping back. It’s the slightest touch and the thread snaps.
His heart drops, a weight of limestone turning to dust.
Releasing him, I scream as my hand falls to my mouth. Mal catches him and his sword falls to the ground with a solid clang. I drop to my knees, eyes wide, frozen as we look down at the heir.
My fingers hover, looking for a heartbeat. But I felt the snap, saw it in my head. Fenrir is dead, eyes wide and open. A blackness like ink drips from the corners and I gasp.
When it finishes, Mal gently closes his brother’s eyes. He doesn’t cry, doesn’t wail, but the sorrow he feels is reflected in his body. It’s a heavy cloak too much for one person to carry.
They might not have gotten along, but Mal loved him.
My lips tremble and I stammer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“He asked us to kill him,” Mal quietly interrupts. “We gave him peace.”
He bows his head for a quiet moment, then rises. He goes back to his task of finding the spell book, never looking back at him. I stay rooted. How did I let this happen.
I had a hold on him. A sudden twitch should not have ended him.
Guilt sits like lead in my belly.
He pulls the canvas wide, hinges squealing. He doesn’t ask for the combination on the safe, just turns the knob until it clicks. At my frown, Mal sighs, dejectedly.
“My brother always hid his treats in here. I used to steal them.”
The spell book sits behind him. Scrambling from the floor, I hold it, the cover tinging my fingers like pure energy. Thankfully, it doesn’t burn me.
“We should go.”
I stop him, curling protectively around the book. “What about your brother?”
Mal shakes his head. “We’re running out of time, Max. Let’s finish this.” Sad eyes look to Fenrir’s body and he gulps, a lump in his throat. “I’ll grieve when this is over.”
Without another word, we leave Fenrir’s bedroom.