A wicked grin spread across his face and as he reached down to grab her, an explosion of light escaped Mila’s hand.
His dark power fought to incapacitate her, but she fought back and focused all of her energy and strength into a massive blow to his face.
She grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut as all three High Fae burst like a sack of blood. Hot blood. It splashed onto her face and clothes, and the cloud dissipated.
The pain subsided.
Kellan landed beside her, eyes wide. “Nice work,” he said, nodding his head to the bones that littered the ground. He reached down and helped her to her feet. “I didn't know you could do that.”
Breathless, she stared in awe at the bright light that crackled and shone all around them.
What had just happened?
Mila groaned and used wiped blood and guts from her face. She flung pieces of flesh from her fingers and sighed. Then, bewildered, she looked at the carnage all around.
"Neither did I."
Chapter Seven
The scent of blood was stifling as Mila, Kellan, and Emory entered the cottage.
The plague had been there.
She was appalled to see that two bodies were still inside, decomposed to nothing but bones and hair. Psychic fae had definitely drained them of their energy.
Luckily as a sorceress, she was immune, just like the shifters and High Fae. Humans were the poor souls affected by the sickness spreading throughout the kingdom.
Horrified, she covered her nose with her sleeve, almost forgetting that she was already covered in blood.
“What is that smell?” Emory asked, his eyes scanning the room. He coughed into the inside of his elbow and waved dust and ashes from the air.
“Magic,” Kellan answered, sniffing the air.
“It’s burning my nose,” Emory said.
Kellan walked ahead, surveying the scene. “It seems someone tried to cleanse this town with magic.”
“They didn’t do a very good job,” Emory added, covering his nose with his sleeve as he gazed down at the bodies.
“My mother taught me that spells can linger in a place long after its done its job,” she said. “I just wish they’d been able to save these poor people.”
Her mother had trained her to follow in her footsteps as a powerful sorceress. But, that all changed after the war. Magic was no longer allowed to be practiced. Death was the sentence for anyone caught attempting a spell.
She sighed, wishing there was ale in that tavern. She could use an entire barrel.
Kellan stood in the doorway, his back pressed against the frame while he chewed his nails. He nodded.
“Your mother was right.”
Mila allowed the different scents of the room to waft into her nostrils as she looked over the overturned tables and chairs. “All traces of the spells are gone.”
“Good,” Emory said, relaxing his shoulders. “Magic makes me nervous.”
She lifted a brow. “Do I make you nervous?”
He grinned. “Only when you give me that look.”
Kellan turned his back on them, tapping his chin. “We will stay here for the night, and head out at first light. I’ll take first watch to make sure no more High Fae come by looking for a fight.”
Mila touched his arm, gently. She offered him a weak smile, extremely fatigued after her use of power.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and he returned the smile, tucking a blood-soaked lock of Mila’s hair behind her ear.
Something about that simple gesture made the hairs on her arm stand on end and her heart skip a beat. That—and the intensity of his eyes as they seemed to search hers for all of the secrets of her soul.
She caught herself, and cleared her throat.
Kellan was her friend—her partner in magic. But, something about him still gave her butterflies.
She went about stashing supplies and took a bucket to the well for some fresh water. She washed her face of the blood and guts. Before she knew it, she’d removed her clothes and was scrubbing her body of the filth when Emory knocked on the door of the back room.
“I caught a rabbit,” he called. “I’ll cook it up for you.”
She nodded, dipping the rag into the cold water. “Thank you,” she said, and closed her eyes against the lull of sleep that threatened to take over.
She finished up and dressed in a simple gown she’d found hanging outside on a line.
A shiver ran up her spine as she realized that one of those piles of bones had belonged to a girl just like her.
Sorrow washed over her as she walked through the cottage.
Emory sat on the floor in front of a small hearth. He lifted a clay bowl to her and as her stomach growled, she realized just how hungry she was.
She joined him on the floor and slurped away at the rabbit stew, wishing she was back at home with her mother, eating a roasted hen.
Those memories were as vivid as if they’d occurred just yesterday.
“What was that look between you and Kellan?”
She stiffened, surprised by Emory’s sudden question. Shrugging, she finished her soup.
“Why do you care?”
He pulled his legs into his chest and rested his head on his knees, eyeing her. “You know why.”
“Well, it really isn’t any of your business. You abandoned me.”
“I begged you not to go.”
“You could have stopped me,” she shot back, cheeks burning.
“All right,” he said, settling onto the floor with a couch pillow. “Forget I said anything.”
She watched him turn away and fall asleep, tears filling her eyes. All she wanted was for him to say he was sorry—to explain why he chose not to take her as his bride. But, that was in the past.
Even her mother had foretold something bigger in her future. That didn’t ease the aching in her heart.
She glanced out the window at the dark sky, and Kellan’s silhouette as he guarded the house.
Tomorrow, they’d be in the capital city, and there—none of her petty problems would matter.
Only survival.
While Mila lay in a bed in one of the rooms, Kellan and Emory slept on the floor, wrapped in wool blankets.
She sat up in bed, running her fingers through the tangles in her hair as she listened to Emory’s snores.
Kellan rolled over and lifted himself onto his elbow. His green eyes glowed in the dark as he cast his gaze her way.
“Everything all right?”
She nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep.”
He stood from his makeshift bed and joined her in the only proper bed in the cottage.
“Come here,” he said, opening his arms to her.
She settled against his chest and breathed him in. When he wrapped his arms around her, all seemed right with the world.
If only for a night.
“Try to get some rest,” he whispered.
She sighed. “I was trying. There’s just a pit in my stomach after all that happened today. I left the protection of my master. Now, I have the blood of three High Fae on my hands. Who can sleep with that on their conscious?”
She’d never killed anyone before, and even though they were monsters who tried to kill her, she’d never forget the anguish and pain in their eyes during their last moments.
Smoothing her hair, he nodded. “All of that will be put in the past before you know it.”
“Will it?” She lifted a brow, glancing up at him.
She wasn’t so sure.
“Remember that time we got into trouble for stealing honey from Miss Pott’s honey bees?”
A small grin came to her face. “It was delicious.”
“It was,” he agreed. “I also remember how you took the blame and somehow only got off with a mild scolding. Stealing is punishable by death. But, somehow you have this charm about you that makes everyone weak.”
She touched his cheek, the tips of her fingers glowing.
“
It’s called magic,” she purred.
His smile lit up the room. “Exactly,” he said. “Magic is what’s going to set you free, Mila.” He kissed her forehead as she began to drift to sleep. “It might even set us all free.”
Chapter Eight
Theron
From the balcony, Theron watched as the palace fell into chaos.
He frowned at the spectacle and drank another sip of fresh blood. He peered down into the glass. The world was going to shit, and he and the other High Fae went on about their lives as if things were perfectly normal.
A terrible plague spread. A curse. And, no one was safe.
King Cosimo paced the courtyard under the light of the moon, his red cape hooked over his shoulders by a Mila brooch.
It was just another Sunday at home, where Theron and his siblings would have to sit at his table and listen to his latest schemes for total domination.
High Fae were getting stronger while the rest of the world fell into despair. It was an odd turn of events since the war, but his father wouldn’t rest until he made sure no one could threaten his rule.
He already had immortality as a High Fae.
He wanted more.
Theron drank more wine, utterly tired of this life of constant control. Though a prince, he was as much a slave to the king’s rule as everyone else.
If only he could find a way to get out of Veruth.
Theron grimaced as he watched King Cosimo slap Fern, the eldest of his children. He shook his head, with a sigh.
If anyone deserved a good slap, it was Fern.
Theron couldn’t keep count of how many times he’s seen Fern starve her personal slaves, or make them stand on their bare hands and knees while she rode them around the room like ponies. Sometimes, she’d make them strip in front of her annoying guests, and whip them.
Just for fun.
Then, they’d feast on the poor victims.
There came a loud banging on his door. Theron cursed under his breath. He closed his eyes and cracked his neck.
“What?” He was already agitated. The sun hadn’t even completely fallen yet, and they were already bothering him to greet the new night.
Night brought power, and Theron was the most powerful of his brothers and sisters.
“The king wants you.”
Theron recognized the voice. “Tell him I’m still sleeping, Giles.”
Giles cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but he insists that you come to him right away. This is not the time to be insolent, Prince Theron.”
Mumbling curses, he picked up his sundial and slipped his wrist into its golden bracelet. Twelve hours until the sun rose again.
Theron stepped back inside his room—the one he had grown up in. He’d since moved out into his own estate, far from the lunacy of the capital city. Everything was as he’d left it. Large bed, expensive chairs and bookcases full of old books.
Dark drapes cloaked his windows. As a psychic fae, sunlight was a bit damaging to his eyes.
He glanced at the full-length mirror before crossing the room and turning the knob. He was disheveled, mildly tipsy, and his inky black hair was a tad unruly.
The moment his large, wooden door was opened, Giles stepped back and bowed low.
Straightening his suit and smoothing his hair, he gave his valet a nod. “What’s all the fuss about?” Theron asked, leaning against the door frame.
Giles’s blue eyes widened, and met Theron’s. He had red hair that was shaved very short. Giles was old enough to be Theron’s grandfather, and sometimes Theron thought of him as just that. He was a tiger shifter, and had been a servant and tutor to him since he was a child.
Bushy red eyebrows rose, and he lowered his voice. He leaned in closer to Theron. “Three High Fae were killed yesterday in a small town on the other side of the Cosava.”
That sparked his interest. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. Reports say it was done with the ancient harnessed power of the sun.”
His brows rose. “A sun spell?” He rubbed his chin. “How can you be sure?”
“The scouts found traces of such magic the likes we’ve never seen.”
He chuckled. “Brilliant.”
Giles frowned at him. “This is serious. We must act quickly. You must pull it together and regain the king’s favor.”
Theron clasped a hand on Giles’s shoulder. “Sure. I can do that. I’ll be a good little prince. Promise.”
“Good. Come this way.”
Theron frowned at how noisy it was in the palace.
His father must be furious at the news of a sorceress using magic without permission.
People were shouting, thundering footsteps echoed throughout the halls, and bells started chiming outside the palace walls.
Theron turned the corner of the dark hall and was greeted by a hall filled with lit torches along its walls.
Two maids dressed in red skirts, black tights, and white collared shirts, walked past him. They lifted their brown-eyed gazes and quickly lowered their eyes again.
“What? No hello?” he asked them, and they continued to scurry away, eyes downcast.
He scowled. Those two would usually flash their most charming smiles, hoping that one day they’d gain his favor and become his mistress.
The further he walked down the hall, the louder the king’s shouting became. Theron cringed before he even opened the large wooden doors that led out of the palace and into the main courtyard. He looked around and noticed for the first time that everyone had stopped what they were doing.
Theron frowned. They were all watching him, whispering, trying to act as if they weren’t staring. Even Trey, his younger brother watched him from the top of the main spiral stairs. His brown eyes stared at him with fear.
Theron opened the door and stepped out into the frigid night air.
“Lovely night, isn’t it?” Theron asked King Cosimo.
King Cosimo glared over at him. His narrow brown eyes seemed to cut holes into Theron’s body.
Theron didn’t flinch. He was used to being looked at that way.
“What took you so long?”
Theron shrugged. “I came as quickly as I could. I can’t fly.”
“Next time, don’t keep me waiting,” King Cosimo barked and Theron flinched. “Do you understand?”
“Understood.”
They shared a long glare and finally Theron looked away. There was too much evil in the king’s eyes to hold his gaze for long. He stroked his bushy black beard and settled a bit.
“Tell Bennedict I’m sending Theron along with his men.”
Theron raised a brow. “What? Why?”
“Time to prove yourself, and show off the new skills you’ve learned. I want you to go with the soldiers for a night sweep of the city. Find the person responsible for killing one of my sheriffs.”
Theron paled.
“Why would you send me out there to find a sorceress who can kill High Fae?” Theron pursed his lips, realizing his mistake.
“Oh, are you afraid? I suppose I could send Trey in your place?”
Theron shot a glance at the youngest of Cosimo’s children and shook his head. “No,” he blurted.
Why King Cosimo would do such a horrible thing was beyond Theron.
To hurt him. That’s why.
“I’ll go,” Theron said. “You leave Trey out of this.”
King Cosimo grinned. He knew Theron’s soft spot better than anyone.
“Good lad.”
Chapter Nine
The streets were calm, quiet.
That didn’t ease Theron’s hesitation for being there. Even wearing the armor his father’s team had developed, most witches were an easy kill, but there were those that no High Fae, human, or shifter would want to face in battle.
Some even came back from life after losing against a witch, their bodies taken over by a dark spell, and would be used to kill other soldiers back at the barracks.
Necromancers were blo
ody powerful, but thankfully they were also rare.
Magic was a dangerous weapon—one that made most High Fae uncomfortable.
Theron thumbed his sword and sighed. It was too quiet.
Bennedict raised a finger to his lips, his eyebrows furrowed over a sharp glare. “Shhh.”
Shrugging, Theron leaned his back against a pillar outside of a three-story cottage. He yawned.
The moon was bright that night, brighter than usual. Maybe that was a good thing. It gave High Fae with pyschic abilities increased power.
They were going to need it.
Theron glanced down at his sword, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it.
A scream came from inside the cottage, making his blood run cold. He stood and spun around to look into the window. Inside were several figures cloaked in black.
Did they bring their entire coven out on this night?
The soldiers got into their positions, crouched low with their weapons raised and ready to strike.
Theron swallowed and stepped toward the back. He was good with a sword, but he’d never faced true magic.
Ben led the way, breaking the door down and tossing in an orb that exploded and sent the witches screaming out into the street.
Theron mustered his courage and tried to think of a way to help those women. Jaw clenched, he turned away as the slaughter began.
He wasn’t there to protect the High Fae—not when he knew the true prophecy of how to save their world.
Bullets were shot from guns strapped to the soldier’s wrists, as he glanced behind him to look back inside.
He was too late. There was nothing he could do but flinch as the entire row of cottages went up in flames, and the howls of the witches filled the frigid night air.
Chapter Ten
Mila
Night cloaked them as they entered the gates of inner Veruth. On the other side of the Cosava River, it was like a different world. One might even think that a war hadn’t waged just years ago.
She pulled her cloak close against the wind and rain as they stalked the sleeping city.