Chapter 17
Oberon
Dust fills the air, choking me. The gritty particles swirl in the confined space Alette and I have fallen into blacking out any light.
And yet, even through the haze, my senses sharpen, dialing into every sound and scent that permeates the atmosphere.
I can barely see through it, but I know where I need to go.
I need to reach her.
Alette’s piercing cry of panic and pain still rings in my head, echoing in a relentless loop that cuts into me sharper than knives. She’s human. Too human. And terribly fragile.
She’s also completely silent now. What if she’s hurt? What if she’s dead? What if I’m too late? The thought sends a jolt of fear through me, and a desperate need to find her hits me.
I fight back the surge of panic clawing at my chest. My heart slams against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat urging me to move as my mind flashes through all the scenarios, all the worst-case possibilities.
Stop. Just breathe. Just find her.
I can’t let my thoughts spiral out of control, especially when I’m a man who’s always in control.
Alette just… she makes me feel things. Things I don’t like.
Things I rationalize to be because of her importance.
If I don’t find her, if something happens to her, our mission is over. Our people will be lost forever.
We need her. I need her.
For the mission.
My hands tremble, fingers aching with the need to do something, anything.
I take a deep breath, the stale air burning my lungs.
I call on the fire that burns in my veins.
The familiar heat surges to life the moment I summon it and flames explode in my hand, warm and bright, casting flickering shadows that dance on the vines that surround me, cutting through the blackness.
Relief flows through me. If my magic works, she has to be okay. Right?
The flames wrap around my fingers like a lover’s embrace, grounding me in a way I’ve only experienced near Alette since the curse stripped me of my power. And there, through the haze of smoke and dust, I see her.
Alette.
She’s sprawled on the ground, her leathers torn and dirt-streaked, her face pale and her eyes wide.
A small cut bleeds from her forehead, the crimson liquid mixing with the dust in a macabre pattern that makes my stomach twist. Her dagger lies in the palm of her hand, no longer glowing.
But she’s breathing. She’s alive. Relief hits me like a physical blow, and I don’t hesitate, scrambling across the floor of the chasm to her side, the fire in my hand forgotten as I kneel down.
“Alette,” I growl, my voice ragged, more harsh than I intend, almost a snarl. I try to touch her, but she flinches, and I drop my hand. “Are you okay?”
She turns her head slightly until her gaze meets mine, and something inside shifts, forming a connection that I can’t quite place.
She blinks up at me, eyes clear yet haunted, and my breath catches in my throat.
I was expecting fear. Pain. Tears, even.
But she just nods, slow and steady, her expression unwavering, a picture of calmness amidst the chaos.
“Yeah,” she answers, her voice shaky but resolute, and it strikes me, how composed she is in the face of danger. “I’m fine.”
I blink at her, momentarily stunned. I’ve seen fae women crumble at far less, shatter under the weight of their emotions over things I wouldn’t even bat an eye at.
Fae are strong, yes, but they also shatter so easily, like fragile glass, after a lifetime of perfect lives.
They can’t handle the weight of real danger.
But Alette... she’s different. There’s a strength in her that I didn’t expect.
But maybe I should have expected it. The goddess wouldn't have chosen a weak person to guide us, after all.
I have to admit, a small part of me is impressed.
But I don’t have time to think about it. I need to make sure she’s truly okay, despite the fact that I know she doesn’t want me touching her.
My free hand moves over her, checking her arms, her legs, her ribs.
The instinct to assess her wounds floods through me.
There’s a hint of a newly blossoming bruise on her cheek, and I don’t like the way her lip trembles when I touch it.
Her skin is cold to the touch, unnervingly so, and her body is still trembling ever so slightly.
She’s okay. Physically. But then, challenges like this are just as much a mental test as they are physical. I learned that in the wars between the fae.
“You sure you’re okay?” I ask again, my voice softer now, but not as gentle as I wanted to sound.
She doesn’t answer right away. There’s a pause that stretches on longer than it should, as if she’s contemplating how to answer. I watch her closely, studying her eyes as she meets my gaze again, and I feel something unseen wrapping between us in a way that frightens me.
“Yes. Don’t worry, I’ve been through worse.”
Has she?
“You guys okay down there?” Sylvian calls from above.
“I think so,” I respond, “but we’ll need a rope or something to get out.”
“Rope, right, we could– oh, fuck.” There’s fear in his voice.
“What’s wrong?” Alette calls out.
“The vines! The vines are fucking alive!”
As if his words brought the danger to life, the vines begin to writhe and twist like snakes, hungry for something to consume. The feeling is unsettling, and I tug Alette closer to my chest. Her tiny, cold body is a reminder that there’s something precious I have to protect.
To my surprise, she pulls away from me, lifting a hand that’s still clenching that damn dagger, a dagger that’s no longer glowing, and before I can react, she’s swinging it at something behind me.
“Watch out!” she warns, her voice sharp and urgent.
I spin just in time to see Alette cut a vine in half with her blade.
Part of it crashes to the ground behind me, right near my shoulder.
The other half shoots at me over and over again, but it’s not quite long enough to reach me now.
I only feel a moment's relief before movement in front of me catches my attention.
The remaining vines are thick, their tendrils twisting and writhing like live snakes, and I watch the way they move, feel the palpable hunger in the air.
They’re coming for us. I know it. And they’re not going to stop until we’re dead.
Instinct kicks in, a primal urge to protect Alette overwhelming me.
I coax the fire in my hand to expand, to form a ball.
Without hesitation, I hurl it at the nearest vine.
Flames erupt brighter than before, illuminating the darkness, crackling and hissing as they consume the plant in an instant.
An acidic scent fills the air, but I can’t focus on that.
The vines aren’t done.
There’s no stopping them. As I hurl fireball after fireball, each burned vine twitches and begins to grow back before my eyes. Not just that, but for every one I burn, two more take its place, relentless in their advance.
Alette is beside me. She has a sword, no longer a dagger, with a shocking full gleaming blade of bone.
It cuts through the encroaching vines with surprising skill.
The contrast between her delicate frame and the strength she wields is striking, but even with her at my side, I don’t see a way out of this pit filled with snake-like vines.
“Damn it,” I mutter, frustration bubbling up within me as I sweep another wave of fire toward the vines, desperate to keep them at bay. “They just won’t stop.”
Sweat beads my brow, the heat of the flames battling against the oppressive chill of the pit.
I can do this for a while. I know what it is to fight with every ounce of one's strength. The problem with this is that, unlike my other enemies, the vines don’t seem to be tiring.
There’s no end to them, no relief in sight, and my sense of urgency grows with each passing moment.
“Guys!” I shout, a warning in the word.
“We’re trying,” Ashton calls back.
I sense the wind stirring. Clean air flows into the dusty hole Alette and I are trapped within. But should there be wind in this hole?
“Ashton!” I shout, recognition dawning. I can hear him before I see him, the faint rustle of air shifting, and then, appearing like a wisp of smoke, his figure flits through the chaos above us.
“Ready?” he asks.
I glance at Alette, reaching for her hand.
To my relief, she reaches back. Her hand finds mine, her grip strong and desperate.
I pull her in closer, wrapping my arm around her waist, feeling the coldness of her body as it seeps through my skin.
Her body trembles against mine, her breath quick and shallow, and I can feel her heart hammering in her chest, the rapid beat matching my own.
“Hold tight,” I urge, even knowing I won’t let her go.
Ashton’s magic surges around us, pulling at the very fabric of the air, and before I can even process the shift, we’re airborne.
The vines reach for us, their tendrils snapping in frustration, but they can’t reach through the wind.
They can’t catch us as we’re pulled out of the pit, and out of their grasp.
The wind whips around us, carrying us higher, and we’re free from the danger below, the weight of the world falling away as we soar just a few feet above the tangled vines on the ground beneath us.
Cassius and Sylvian battle the vines with swords that flash with every quick movement.
When they spot us, they draw back from the opening of the pit we’d been in, trying to keep pace with us as Ashton floats near us, moving his hands, urging the wind to carry us further and further from danger.
We’re carried over the vines, drifting through the labyrinth until the vines disappear and only dirt is left.
I feel Ashton’s magic waver. His powers only work in short bursts.
Ashton’s spell lands us on solid ground again, the earth beneath our feet feeling stable and real in a way the slithering vines never could.
I turn Alette to face me and check on her immediately, my eyes raking over her tiny frame as I continue to hold her close.
There’s the bruise on her cheek. The cut above her eye.
Small tears in her leathers. But otherwise, she looks to be in one piece.
“You’re okay?” I ask, my voice gentle.
The weight of her body against mine is reassuring, but I need to know she’s truly unharmed. I need to hear it from her now that we’re not in danger. Now that she doesn’t have to be fine.
Her body trembles, the lingering effects of adrenaline coursing through her, I’m sure.
The sword in her hand shrinks into a dagger once more, and she slips it into her sheath before her eyes meet mine.
There’s something different in them now, something deeper, something raw and unfiltered.
It’s a quiet intensity, a shared moment between us that feels almost sacred.
“Alette?” I ask again, my thumbs stroking her arms.
She nods, but there’s that flicker again, that strange, inexplicable pull between us that I still don’t quite understand.
It’s a feeling that tugs at my heart, urging me to explore it, even though the last thing I’ve ever wanted to do is explore an emotion.
I can’t shake the feeling that we’re connected in a way I never expected.
Is it the goddess’s doing? I can’t tell. But it’s real. It’s undeniable. And I can’t ignore it.
“Alette!” Cassius, Ashton, and Sylvian all say at the same time, as they surround us.
The moment breaks. She looks away.
“That was…” she begins, but doesn’t finish.
“Crazy?” Ashton offers, followed by a grin.
She returns his smile. Something she’s never done for me. Although, to be fair, I’m not sure I’ve ever smiled at her. Ashton is all smiles.
I step back away from her small body that fits my own so well. “Let’s move. No point in lingering here.”
But they don’t listen. Sylvian sits her down and uses his water to clean the wound on her head and the dirt from her face. Ashton shamelessly flirts, bringing another smile to her face, and Cassius studies her wound and declares that it doesn’t need to be stitched.
I just… stand. Alone. Something I’m very accustomed to being.
But this is the first time in my many long years that I’ve wanted to be part of something that my adversaries, the three kings, are a part of.
I don’t like them touching her. I don’t like them flirting with her, or showing off their intelligence.
These three are the kind of men women fall for. Women do not fall for me. They fall for my power. They fall for my title. And they fear me. Just as Alette does.
She glances in my direction, then away quickly, and my heart twists.
Fear. That’s what Alette and I have that ties us together. Fear.
Nothing has ever bothered me more in my life.