She pulled her cloak close against the wind and rain as they stalked the sleeping city.
“Hurry,” Emory said, leading her toward the stairs that led into the underground tavern.
She followed him down the stone steps, and he pushed open the heavy wooden door, letting dim candlelight out into the night. The scent of ale flooded her nostrils as she stepped through the narrow corridor and into the main bar area. Wooden chairs and tables filled the room. A fire burned in the back hearth, and the floor was slick with water as if someone had just finished mopping.
“Bloody hell,” a female voice said from behind Mila.
Mila paused.
A small young woman with shoulder-length dark hair stood there, a bucket in her arms, a stunned look on her pale face.
“Tilly,” she said, relieved.
Green eyes looked Mila up and down, then glared at her brother. “Dear spirits,” she said. “What are you guys doing here?”
“We need your help.”
Tilly licked her lips, her eyes wide. “You expect me to threaten my place by helping a witch?”
Mila approached, taking Tilly by the shoulders. “Please. We are desperate. The High Fae seek me out as we speak.”
“Yes,” Tilly said, giving Emory a sidelong glance. “I’ve heard rumors of such.”
She sighed and walked over to the bar. She set the bucket on the wooden surface and ran her hands through her hair.
“What is it you expect me to do?” Tilly asked, holding her hands up.
Emory shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe use some of your influence you have with the resistance.”
“Ah, I see. Now you want to be on the side of what is right,” Tilly said. “Where were you when the High Fae destroyed half of the villages, enslaving the poor humans and shifters left behind?”
“Where were you? Working for thieves and smugglers? We all do our part.”
Mila sighed. “He’s always been on the side of the resistance. He was about to join their army.”
Tilly smiled then, her eyes softening to them. “Really? My little brother.”
“All right, enough of that little brother stuff,” Emory said. “I am an enlisted soldier. That should count for something with Drake.”
“Maybe,” she said. “The High Fae are going mad around the entire kingdom with the news of a witch killing their kind. Isn’t that insane? Immortal my arse.”
Mila gulped, her blood going cold. She turned to Kellan and Emory. “They can’t be talking about me. Can they?”
“What was that?” Tilly asked. “What have you done?”
Emory stepped beside her. “We didn’t have a choice. The sheriff was going to kill her.”
Tilly’s eyes widened. She touched Mila’s hair. “And now, you’re going to get us all killed.”
Those words sent a shudder through Mila’s body.
Tilly licked her lips and looked into Mila’s eyes. “You don’t have any idea what you have done.”
Kellan crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the bar. “Will the prophet see us or not?”
Tilly nodded, rubbing her hands together. “Perhaps.”
A gasp escaped her lips as blinding light flashed from all around the tavern and loud yelling echoed against the walls.
“Royal soldiers! You bloody fools brought them here,” Tilly shouted as she shifted into a massive white wolf. With a growl, she turned and ran across the tavern with such speed that Mila barely had a chance to register what was happening.
Mila’s heart thumped in her chest as several armed High Fae soldiers stormed the bar, faces cloaked and swords held ready.
“Get down,” Emory shouted, holding an arm out to shield her as a crossbow was held directly at her face.
She stared the weapon, seeing her own death flash before her eyes.
Before she could react, she was thrown to the ground. The side of her face slapped the hard, stone floor. A cracking sound buzzed in her head, smothering out the yells and chaos that ensued all around and above her.
“Mila,” Emory called. “Mila!”
Darkness smothered her then—darkness that threatened to wrap its cold fingers around her and never let go.
Chapter Eleven
“Mila,” a voice called.
Mila opened her eyes to a bright light. She was being carried away down a tunnel with walls made of water that reflected her favorite memories.
At the edge of the river was Kellan, fishing and smiling at her as she splashed around in the shallow portion, just off the rocks. She giggled, holding her skirts as he began to sing a song.
Then, she stood with her back against a tree, Emory holding onto her hips as he kissed her for the first time.
She touched her lips, watching as the wind blew at their hair, the sun beaming down on the beauty of young love.
She reached out to the images, wishing she could escape this hollowness, and join her past self. There was so much that she would change.
She gasped as her memories melted away, and were replaced with darker images—images that made her stomach churn with dread.
She covered her mouth with her hands as Emory stood in the temple, marrying Lady Chastain, and how he bounced two baby shifters on his lap during the following winter. The pain of that image stabbed her in the gut.
She wrapped her arms around her body and sucked in a breath. What is this?
Above, there was Kellan, flying away from her. She watched him fly far away to another kingdom where he had adventures of his own. Adventures she wished she could join.
Come back, Kellan.
“Mila,” the voice called again and she froze. All color drained from her face.
“Father?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice coming from far away.
She stretched her arms out, stunned by the cold water that funneled around her.
“What is happening?”
“You have to stop now. You’re going too far. The world needs you.”
She shook her head, searching for him. To her dismay, all she saw were ripples as her body continued to slide down the slippery water funnel.
“Where am I going? I don’t know how to stop.”
“Wake up, little one. Wake up.”
“But, why can’t I come with you, Father?”
Tears filled her eyes at hearing his voice again. Even if she was dying, this was truly a gift.
“I know you do. But, remember this, my love. I am always with you.”
“Do you promise?”
He chuckled, bringing a smile to her face. “Of course. Now, wake up, little one.”
She chewed her lip, letting the water carry her away.
“I love you, Father,” she whispered.
“And, I love you.”
Chapter Twelve
When Mila awakened, silence and darkness welcomed her.
She sat up, realizing that she wasn’t in the bar anymore. Everything ached. Her face, her back, even her hands were nearly numb. She groaned, and tried to stop the buzzing in her head.
Her body was wrapped in a light blanket, hair strewn about on thick pillows, and the bed was almost too plush.
Still, confusion swallowed her whole.
Kellan. Emory.
Her heart raced as her eyes darted around the massive room.
“Take it easy,” a soft male voice said, and she tensed.
As a light flickered over a candle, her eyes locked with that of a handsome young man who’d been standing at the window.
Light danced in his bright hazel eyes as they met hers.
No—he wasn’t a man—he was a High Fae.
“Who are you?”
She wasn’t sure why she asked. It didn’t matter.
“Prince Theron, at your service.”
At that moment, her blood ran cold.
The heir of Veruth.
She’d heard rumors about the psychic prince.
Now, she was face-to-face with him.
Pri
nce Theron’s black hair was short on the sides, and long on the top.
She hadn’t expected the king’s son to be so attractive. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and a lean waist. He wore light armor, as was customary of most men of wealth and means.
“Where am I?”
“Tell me who you are first,” he said, sitting in a chair beside her bed.
Brows furrowed, she shook her head. “I’m no one.”
Prince Theron grinned at her. “Come now. You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”
“I don’t care what you believe.”
She snatched the blankets from over her body, paling as she realized that she’d been undressed and left in nothing but her panties and bra. Her cheeks burned as she stood and wrapped the blanket around herself.
She felt utterly ridiculous as she stood there in her underclothes, wrapped in a floral quilt while the prince watched her with a look of amusement in his eyes.
“Where are my clothes?”
He leaned back in the chair, studying her. “In the rubbish bin,” he said, as if it were matter-of-fact. “They were quite filthy. Giles will fetch you a clean gown that are more appropriate.”
“You had no right. Bring them back so I can leave.”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere, young lady. I have questions that need answers, and I can’t let you saunter out that door until I get them.”
She made a run for it. Damn the clothes.
Before she could reach halfway across the room, he caught her by the waist and with a whoosh of air, he spun her around and slammed her on the bed.
Eyes widened, rage brewing, she pressed her fingers to his forehead and sent an electric surge into his body. He cried out, and caught her hand, forcing it down beside her head.
A wild look filled his gaze as he held her down and searched her face.
“I knew it,” he said, breathless. “I bloody knew it.”
She stared up at him, the heat and hardness of his body pressed against hers dizzying.
It was then that she knew she’d lost. A psychic fae had read her soul, and there was no denying anything he’d seen.
“You’re a sorceress,” he said. “A very powerful one at that. You killed the sheriff.”
Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him. “Let me go,” she pleaded.
She tensed as he let her wrist go and laced his fingers in her hair. His eyes became entirely black for a moment, and he leaned in to breathe her in.
Having him so close, and pressed against her was unnerving, yet she almost didn’t want him to go.
“Tell me your name,” he purred, running his nose along the soft flesh that stretched from her ear and down her throat. “And, I’ll consider it.”
“Mila,” she whispered, entranced by his gaze.
“Mila,” he repeated, looking up.
She realized she hadn’t been breathing.
His eyes had returned to the intoxicating shade of hazel as he looked down at her. “I dare say we have the same enemy, dear girl. Perhaps you will be my accomplice, and not my enemy. As prince of Veruth, I can change your life. And, together, we can change the world.”
The room was suddenly too hot, her breaths too shallow as she did what she never expected.
She nodded, submitting to his lure. “Go on.”
Chapter Thirteen
Theron
This cannot be. I’ve truly found her.
The excitement that surged through Theron’s veins was almost too much to endure as he waited outside her bedroom. While she was bathed and dressed, he paced the corridors of his estate, constantly checking if they were quite done preparing her.
“Perhaps a spot of wine will soothe your nerves, your highness,” Giles said, his hands clasped before his thin frame as he calmly waited outside her door.
He took a deep breath in, and raked his hands through his hair, smoothing it down.
“No, not tonight,” he said. “I must be sober while I come up with a plan for her.”
“Though a witch, she is still human. She will need sleep,” Giles reminded him.
Groaning, Theron nodded. “You’re right. But, let me just ask a few questions first.”
Giles bowed. “As you wish, your highness.”
“You don’t understand, Giles,” he said, lowering his voice and moving closer so that no one would overhear what he was about to say. “If the prophecies are true, she can put the world back together. She could end my father’s reign of tyranny.”
Nodding, Giles regarded him. “But, where would that leave you, and the other High Fae, your highness?”
Theron shrugged. “Free,” he said. “As free as the shifters and humans. We can stop the plague that chases us like a raging storm. Maybe the world can be new again. Maybe we won’t all be extinct in the next few decades.”
“Very good, sir. You may be onto something. But, why did you bring her here? If the king finds her, all is lost.”
Theron clasped his hands on Giles’s shoulders, a smug smile on his face. “Come now, Giles. I have a plan. I always have a plan.”
“What will you do?”
There was only one thing he could do, really. He had to protect her from the king, and find a way to use her power to stop him. While she’d been unconscious, he’d had time to weigh his options and think of the best way to handle the situation.
Humans were a highly sought after commodity in this city.
He knew what he had to do.
He’d claim her.
As his own.
The door creaked open and one of the maids peeked her heart-shaped face out. “She’s ready for you, your highness.”
Straightening his clothes, he nodded, and gave Giles a wink. “Let’s save the world than, shall we?”
Theron entered her room, just as she finished getting dressed in a new nightgown more appropriate for what he had planned for her. She’d insisted on being properly dressed, and he had no problem accommodating her wishes.
She sat with her back to him, on the edge of the bed, facing the open balcony doors that looked out over his gardens.
“Tell me why I’m here,” she whispered in a voice that was almost too soft to hear.
He crossed the room and sat on the bed beside her.
She flinched, standing and crossing her arms over her chest as she turned to him.
He sucked in a breath.
She’d been crying.
What he’d give to soothe her sorrow.
“I brought you here to save your life,” he said, and she lifted a perfect Mila brow.
“What do you mean?”
Shrugging, he leaned back onto his elbows. “My father is looking for a witch. Not just any witch, a special one. A certain witch who killed three High Fae with a sun spell.”
By the look on her face, she knew exactly what he was talking about.
“Look,” he said. “I know it was you.”
She tensed and took a step back.
“Wait. Listen. I won’t hurt you, and I have no intention on turning you over to my father.”
Dropping her arms to her sides, she narrowed her eyes and looked to him. “Why?”
Theron came to his feet, careful to not startle her, and clasped his hands behind his back. He walked to the balcony, staring out the glass doors.
“There’s a prophet,” he began, in a quiet tone. “One who foretold the coming of a powerful sorceress who would break the curse of our ancestors and set the world right again.”
When she came to stand beside him, he hoped it was because he was breaking down her walls.
“And, you think I am this sorceress?”
He gave her a sidelong glance and nodded. “I do. I’d bet money on it.”
“But, why? You’re a High Fae. You benefit from the downfall of the humans.”
He smirked. “You’d think. But, no. It’s not about surviving. I want the world to be whole again. I want it to be so that humans, shifters
, and High Fae coexist in harmony. Not a world plagued by fear and violence.” He paused, eyes darkening. “Not a world ruled by my father.”
“How is he any worse than any other High Fae?”
Theron turned to her, taking her by the shoulders.
This time, she didn’t flinch or freeze, she met his gaze with apt curiosity.
“Because, he isn’t just any High Fae, Mila. He is pure evil. He will wipe out every other High Fae clan, and enslave the humans when he is the last one standing. Not even me and my brothers and sisters are safe,” he softened his voice. “No one is.”
She swallowed, nodding. “I’ve had dreams,” she said. “Dreams of what the world would be like if things continued this way.”
“And?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, and exhaled. “All life would cease to exist,” she said, and his blood ran cold.
Chapter Fourteen
Mila
The next morning thick fog covered the expansive gardens as Mila gained the courage to leave her bed and venture outside onto her stone balcony.
As Mila watched the clouds roll across the sky, she gripped the railing and closed her eyes with a sigh. It had been a long night, and after the prince left, she’d tried to sleep. Still, nightmares and revelations haunted her.
She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been brought here for a reason.
Theron spoke of prophecies and saving the people of Veruth—of saving the world.
The door to her bedroom opened, and she turned to see one of the maids enter with a tray of assorted food. She set it down on a round table and, put her hands on her hips, looking Mila up and down.
“Breakfast is served, miss,” she said in a thick northern accent.
Mila came inside and left the door open. She enjoyed the cool air.
Nervous, she sat down and looked to her. “Thank you.”
“Tea or coffee?”
“Tea,” Mila said.
“Cream and sugar?”
Nodding, she looked over the tray at the fresh pastries, jams, and butter. She smiled, her eyes widening at the sight of a bowl of blueberries.