Chapter 38
My eyelids flutter open to the soft purrs of the bus engine, a lullaby that cannot soothe the storm in my head.
I’m sprawled across the loveseat, my limbs tangled in a cozy mess of blankets that smell faintly of earth and pine—a remnant of the forests we’ve passed through.
The magical bus, our chariot of absurdity, hums with an energy that seems to pulse in sync with my racing heart.
There’s something watching us, but I don’t know if it’s bad or good.
I sit up, the motion abrupt, as if jerking awake from a nightmare.
This is no dream; it’s the reality we’ve been thrust into since arriving in Faerie—a world more complex and twisted than any storybook ever dared depict.
My fingers graze the cold window, tracing the condensation as if it could reveal answers to the enigma that has become my life.
The others are still sleeping, their chests rising and falling in a rhythm that I envy.
Only men could slobber in their sleep so easily when every closed eye brings flashes of the creatures following us.
The secrets, the lies, the half-truths hang over us like specters, just waiting to haunt our consciousness.
I draw my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I gaze out at the dawn breaking over the horizon.
The early light filters through the trees, casting dappled shadows that dance across the interior of the bus.
It feels as though we’re stationary in time while everything outside rushes forward.
“Lass?” A voice, groggy with sleep, breaks the silence. Revelin stirs on the seat opposite me, his hair tousled and eyes clouded with concern. I offer him a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes, an attempt to reassure both of us.
The thoughts keep coming, relentless and demanding attention, so we have a plan that keeps us safe.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper, drowned out by the sound of the bus shifting gears as it continues to carry us further into the unknown.
The weight of what we’ve seen and learned in Faerie anchors heavily in my chest—an anchor I’m not sure I’m strong enough to bear on my own.
But I have to be—for myself, for Feray, for all of us.
We’re in this together—entangled in a web of ancient power and modern deceit, each thread leading back to the heart of who we really are.
As the magical bus drives us deeper into this new world, I steel myself.
Ready or not, the truth awaits, and I will face it head-on like everything else I’ve had to deal with.
I trace the condensation on the window with my fingertip, drawing aimless patterns while my mind races.
Amethyst’s enigmatic smiles and cryptic words replay in my head, along with the cacophony of the groupies’ insults.
The fighting ring echoes with the clash of supernatural strength; the skull-headed monsters prowl the edges of my mind.
The book—ancient and whispering secrets since we pilfered it from its hiding place in Arrowwood—it feels like a puzzle piece lodged in my throat.
“Witchling.” Dezi’s tone is gentle, but it cuts through my reverie. His dark eyes search mine for an answer I don’t have.
“Something’s not right,” I say, my voice barely audible over the hum of the magical engine.
“Is this about what we did in the puzzle tomb?” Revelin leans forward, his brows knitting together. He understands the weight of unanswered questions, but he also doesn’t awaken easily. His comprehension is still slow and I can feel the cobwebs clearing from his mind through our bond.
“Everything.” My hands clench into fists. “It’s all connected, isn’t it? The corrupt councils, Revelin’s father turning a blind eye, the stupid High Mage, all this skullduggery... It’s bigger than us.”
“Much bigger,” Khol adds grimly. His glance shifts between us, sharing an unspoken worry. “And likely more far-reaching than just those villains. My uncle is ass-deep with the Briarvale Council; so are many of the major shifter group leaders and other bigwigs.”
I love that he’s thinking, but that makes this feel completely insurmountable.
“Hey.” Dezi nudges my knee with his own, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You’re getting powerful now, witchling. The clues react to you almost as much as they do to Revelin.”
“Because she’s not just a witch,” Tiernan interjects suddenly, his eyes going wide as he points a shaky finger at the Prince. “I think you already suspect it, you dick. Why didn’t you say something?”
“Why would I when I don’t have any proof?” Revelin’s hand hovers over mine, hesitating before making contact. “Could your parents have lied about what you are?”
“Wouldn’t be the first secret they’ve kept,” I mutter, the realization tightening around my chest. Feray’s adventures through the wolf packs should have been secret, unlike our trip to Faerie. We’re both being tracked by unseen eyes, though, and the pixie told us they were attacked, too.
What did our parents do that warranted such silence, such mystery?
A chill skitters down my spine, the kind that tells you the world as you know it is about to fracture. The faces of my mates blur before me like I’m looking through water, and I can feel the color draining from my face.
“Lass, breathe,” Revelin urges, his voice grounding me in the present. His fingers lace with mine, warm and steady. “No matter what we find out, you’re still our mate. You’re not someone else if your DNA or magic come from places other than witch kind.”
His words should comfort me, but they echo hollowly in the cavern of my doubts.
Can I be so sure who I am if the foundation I’ve been built on is a lie?
Dezi leans in, his eyes sharp with intellect beneath his usually carefree exterior.
“Think about it, witchling. If that mage suspected something was off about your lineage but had no proof, it makes sense why you were put through hell. It would make sense for someone to order that they make you and your sister outcasts, then find a reason to cast you out at Ascension.”
“Likely, they were trying to squeeze the truth out of her with each failed curse or spell in school,” Revelin finishes, a protective growl lacing his tone. “They probably even had them handle materials harmful to various species to see if they’d react.”
My mind strays to the time Feray was sick for three weeks after a herbalism unit.
Could they actually have had her handle wolfsbane? Mother. Fucker. I’ll kill them.
“Exactly.” Dezi’s fists clench. “Maybe that’s why you’ve always struggled with your magic. You were taught all wrong, because they never understood what you really are.”
“Taught wrong...” The words strike a chord, resonating with every failed attempt at a spell, every flicker of power I couldn’t control.
Could it be that simple? That tragic?
“Fi.” Revelin’s thumbs caress the backs of my hands, his touch insistent. “You are not their mistakes or their lies. We’ll uncover the truth, and it won’t change how fiercely we care about you.”
“Or how fiercely you fight,” Khol adds, his voice a low rumble of support. “Not being a witch would definitely explain why you learned to fight so easily and so well, with no training. Most of the magic district folks are useless in physical conflicts. They’re all way too close to humans.”
“Your spirit,” Tiernan chimes in with a fond smile, “is not something that can be taught or taken away. It’s just... you.”
A shaky breath escapes me, and I focus on the strength in Revelin’s grasp, the conviction in Dezi’s gaze, Khol’s unwavering presence, and Tiernan’s attempt at levity.
The hum of the magical bus blends with my racing thoughts, a cacophony that threatens to shatter my mind.
Realities I’ve known are dissolving like mist, and I can feel the panic clawing its way up my throat.
Revelin’s voice slices through the chaos, his tone light but eyes filled with concern. He slides closer, a teasing glint in his gaze. “If you keep frowning like that, you’ll give the rest of us worry lines.”
I try to muster a glare, but it fizzles out before it can fully form. It’s difficult to stay lost in dread when Revelin’s trying to charm the distress out of me.
Fucking Fae.
Khol leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “You know, if we pooled our worries, yours would still be the prettiest,” he whispers, a smirk playing on his lips.
I can’t help the blush that spreads across my cheeks, nor the small chuckle that escapes me.
The absurdity of his comment briefly untangles the knots of fear in my stomach.
I’ve never thought of myself as beautiful or pretty, but I knew I was smart and tough, which was enough.
But my new mates constantly remind me of how attractive they think I am without skimping on their praise for my brains and skills.
“Pretty won’t save you from punishment if you don’t take a deep breath, witchling,” Dezi warns, but the twinkle in his eye betrays his mock sternness. “The Prince has plenty of paddles that simply must get used or it would be wasteful.”
You wish, fang face.
“I’m not misbehaving,” I protest, yet I snort with laughter, the sound strange and foreign amidst the gravity of our situation. “And you’d better bring your ‘A’ game if you think I’m going to let you spank me, old man.”
“Works every time,” he says with a satisfied grin. “Sex talk derails her train without fail.”
The tension within me eases just enough for Tiernan to make his move. His body shifts, bones and muscles flowing like water until a sleek leopard sits where the man had been. He nudges my hand with his head, demanding attention with a rumbling purr.
“Cheater,” I mutter affectionately, scratching behind his ears, grateful for the distraction from my spiraling thoughts. “That purr should be illegal.”
“Time for privacy,” Revelin suggests, standing and pulling me gently towards the back of the bus. There’s a promise in his touch, an unspoken vow that whatever happens, they’re here with me.
The bedroom is our sanctuary, a place where troubles can’t breach the threshold.
Khol’s suggestive remarks become more daring as the door closes behind us, each word designed to tease a smile from my lips.
Revelin joins in, his flirty comments wrapping around me like a shield, warding off the darkness that lurks at the edge of my consciousness.
“Fiadh, focus on us,” Revelin murmurs, his hands guiding mine, reminding me of the present, of the connection we share. “Nothing else matters right now.”
Caught in their web of playful banter and tender touches, my overwhelming fears fade, eclipsed by the warmth of their presence.
They’re my anchor in this storm of doubt and discovery, and for a moment, that’s all I need to remember who I am.