Chapter 35
Reid
Emlyn and I stand in a forest clearing, weapons drawn, surrounded by five fae. They each wield a pair of white, jagged knives, similar to Emlyn’s.
“They’re from Ystyr,” he whispers.
“Why are they here?”
“I’ll figure that out later.” He glances at the saber in my hand. “Please tell me you’ve actually used that before.”
I’m sweating so much, the handle’s slick against my palm. “Only while practicing forms. And usually incanting fire with it.”
“Well, don’t do that,” Emlyn hisses, then takes a deep breath. “You’ll have the advantage in reach. Just keep them off my back and watch your footing. They’ll likely shift the earth on us.”
“What?!” That does not sound good.
Before he can respond, the ground rolls beneath me. I stumble, my balance thrown. The Ystyr fae closest to me takes the opening, lunging with one of his knives.
Emlyn’s there in an instant, parrying the thrust with one dagger before swiping with his other, missing by inches as our enemy jumps back.
“Watch my back,” he yells, and I scramble behind him, falling into guard stance as two enemies warily approach. Which leaves three for Emlyn.
We’re gonna die.
The closer of the two makes a quick slash forward, and my body automatically responds with a hop back as I extend my blade.
Don’t incant!
Professor Beckwith did such a good job drilling the flow of fire into my every movement that it takes conscious effort not to.
My opponent doesn’t press his attack. Was he testing my reach? His partner crouches, bringing his hand to the ground. A second later, the grassy terrain lurches beneath me.
I dodge to the side, more prepared this time, and sure enough, the other one comes in for a strike.
I parry his blade, but he steps closer for a second attempt with his offhand.
My sword ricochets back, sweeping his dagger out of the way and slicing straight through his torso as I bring the tip back toward him.
He looks as stunned as I am.
The blade sticks as I tug it out, and he falls to the ground with a grunt, blood oozing from his chest.
I fly forward as someone plows into me from behind.
My saber falls from my grasp, landing in a fern a few feet away. The one who’s been shaping the earth jumps for it. A dagger flies at his hand, slicing it, and he pulls back with a yelp of pain.
“Pick up your sword!” Emlyn yells.
I grab it and scramble up, finding myself next to him again, our backs against a tree.
“You took one out?” he asks, breathing heavily.
“Yeah.” I’ll think about that later. For now, it’s four against two, and Emlyn’s down a blade.
The three Emlyn’s been fighting circle us. The one who’s been shifting the ground kicks aside the dagger Emlyn threw. Then he starts to kneel again.
Need to stop him.
I throw myself at him, blade first, as if my body’s an arrow. Emlyn blocks a blow from one of the others who tries to intercept me. My target stops mid-crouch, leaping back.
“Trade!” Emlyn shouts.
He pushes ahead of me, chasing after the shifty one, and I whirl around, swinging my sword wildly at the others.
No fire!
My feet glide along the thick grass as I slowly retreat, the three fae spreading around me. A guttural scream cries out from behind. I flinch, praying it wasn’t Emlyn.
The fae on my left takes advantage and lunges for me. I jump back, swinging my blade, but miss. The fae on my right slashes across my side.
My body buckles as I howl in pain. I barely register him swinging his other dagger toward me when Emlyn rams into him with his shoulder, knocking him away. He positions himself between me and our enemies as I pull myself up, a searing gash in my chest.
“Two down,” he says. “How’re you doing?”
I groan through the fire burning in my side. “I think I’ll live.”
“At least for another few heartbeats.” Emlyn’s panting and holds only one dagger. Our remaining opponents look in peak condition by comparison.
We’re not gonna make it.
My throat clenches. I don’t want to incant. Never wanted to, ever again. But between that and dying…
Between Emlyn dying…
“I have to do it, Em.”
His jaw tightens, eyes trained on our foes.
He swallows.
He nods.
The words form, heavy in my mind, sinking through me as I release the incantation. Fire bursts to life at their feet, engulfing all three fae. With a roar that tears the air apart, the flames converge into a blazing inferno.
Their screams shudder through me, carrying the stench of hair and flesh burning as a sweltering heat overtakes us. Emlyn drops his dagger, clinging to me as he crumbles to his knees.
“Stop it, Reid!” His voice is strained, full of agony.
The blaze flickers out in seconds, and I collapse to the ground.
Ancients.
My breath dances out of my lungs.
We’re alive.
“Reid?” Emlyn rolls me onto my back. His face goes white. “Shit.”
He rips off my blood-soaked shirt, then scrambles to his pack, rummaging through it.
“I’m fine, Em,” I breathe out. “Just… exhausted.”
“Shut up and let me bandage you.”
He cleans the wound, which stings like fuck, then breathes a sigh of relief when he confirms it’s just a shallow slice against my ribs.
As he wraps a bandage around my chest, my gaze snags on these weird, glowing orbs floating amid the branches above, until they drift out of sight.
He digs out his extra shirt to replace my bloody one.
His sweet vanilla scent fills my nostrils as I pull it on. “I guess I will smell like you now.”
He flicks my nose, then his face turns somber as he takes in the scorched ground before us.
The fire had been roughly ten feet across. Where it burned, an ink-black scar mars the earth. A weight sinks through me as I follow the dark veins spreading at least another ten feet in every direction like a disease, withering the nearby plant life to dust.
“I felt the Land’s pain,” Emlyn says, his voice thick. “It tore through me. So much pain. So much anger.”
My stomach cramps. “I’ve never seen this happen before. If people saw this every time they incanted… they wouldn’t do it. I’m sure of it.”
“Even if their lives depended on it?”
My eyes trace the blackness across the earth. I let out a heavy exhale. “I don’t know.”
But deep down, I do, the shame gnawing at my intestines.
Emlyn rubs my arm, his touch tender. Comforting. “It’s not just on you. I gave you permission.”
I take his hand. “Neither of us knew it would be this bad.”
He squeezes my fingers. “I won’t tell Taran,” he says, his voice low.
“I wasn’t really worried about that.”
“You should be. This is his realm. He could kill you for it.”
Great. I close my eyes and rub my brow, sighing. Then I push myself to my feet so I can investigate the damage I’ve done.
Frigid air hits me. Pure, unadulterated rage rises through my feet as I step onto the raw, blackened ground. Not mine—the Land’s. It doesn’t crush me like it did in the border fog. It simmers, my bones throbbing wherever it spreads.
I kneel at the epicenter of the scar, the charred dirt brittle between my fingers.
“How do I apologize in the Tongue?” I call back to Emlyn.
He grimaces as he steps onto the scarred terrain, clenching his jaw as he kneels beside me. “E’len shillah.”
“E’len shillah,” I repeat. Again and again, hoping the Land will understand. That maybe it’ll ease Her pain.
I freeze as a subtle pulse radiates through my fingers.
“She wants you to prove it,” Emlyn says softly.
“How?”
He meets my eyes, biting his lip. Then he takes my hand, forcing it deeper into the dirt, clamping it in place. “This will hurt.”
Before I can respond, my insides lurch through my entire body, like they’re being sucked through my arm. My fingers contort beneath Emlyn’s grip. I gasp for air, but every breath gets instantly lost to the pull.
Emlyn shouts words I can’t understand, his voice pleading. Darkness shadows the edge of my vision. Emlyn’s voice grows louder, more desperate.
She’s killing me.
If that’s the price… at least I saved Emlyn.
My heart splinters under the strain of the Land’s anger. Images flash through my mind, mostly of him. The moments that could’ve been. Eyelids… flutter shut.
Then I’m released, a cool wave washing over me.
I slump to the ground, my muscles no longer working now that the tension’s broken. Emlyn hauls me up, cradling me in his arms.
“Reid? Are you alright?” His hand’s warm against my cheek as his golden eyes scour my face.
I weakly bat it away, trying to end his fussing. “Think so.”
I groan as I push myself up, then stop. What had moments before been scorched dirt now has a sprinkling of grass, the delicate blades breaking through the surface.
“She was taking your life to heal Herself,” Emlyn says.
“Huh.”
Now that the euphoric rush of survival’s fading, exhaustion settles in my bones, greater than before. But it’s worth it. Everything’s coming back to life.
Laughter flutters out of me, cut short by a sharp ache spiking from my wound. “So I just have to nearly die every time I incant and everything’ll be fine.”
Emlyn grabs my face, his honey eyes swirling with tender panic. His voice comes out raw. “Don’t even joke about that.”
A frantic heartbeat. One. Two.
It’s hard to say which of us closes the gap first. It doesn’t matter. All I know is our worlds align when our lips collide. Warm. Wet. Stealing the air from my lungs.
Ever since that night in the alley, part of me always expected he’d kiss me again. I’d dreamed of it—many times. I imagined it’d be much like before—a frenzied rush to devour one another.
This is not that.
His body trembles as he clings to me, gripping me tight, but not from desire. From the fear of almost losing me. As if I’ll disappear between breaths.
My fingers get lost tangling through the soft strands of his hair, pulling him closer as our kiss feeds the fire within us. Assuring him I’m still here.
I’m not going anywhere.