I WAS IN LOVE WITH HER. AND IT WAS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE.
The way I felt about Arwen—pulse racing every time she spoke, eager to play with her, flirt with her, to make her laugh, make her sigh,
frustrate her to the point of seeing that little pinch between her brows, always needing to pick her brain, taste her lips—it was enough to kill a man. I didn’t know how anybody survived being in love. It was as crippling as I’d always feared it would be. And . . . terrifying. To never be able to get enough of her. To never be free of these feelings.
Even if somehow we both survived the battle that was brewing—which seemed nothing short of impossible—I would have to walk through the world, for the rest of my life, decade after decade, with this nagging, aching, festering love spooling around my heart and yanking it in her direction.
Worse yet, I had done the one thing I had set out to avoid doing at all costs: once again I had hurt the person who meant the most to me.
It was like a fucking curse.
The ship’s pitch over yet another gut-roiling swell shifted me down the rigid wood bench and sent the cabin lantern flickering, casting Amelia and Griffin across from me in ghoulish shadow.
They looked morose.
How had I let this happen? Found the Fae I had been searching years for and fallen stupidly, miserably in love with her? Now I’d have to destroy my father some other way. One that didn’t result in Arwen’s . . .
I bit down on oily nausea at the thought.
I hadn’t discovered an alternative in a century. And it would only be harder now that Lazarus knew who she was. He’d be looking everywhere for her. And he’d find her—inevitably he would. I could only pray to the Gods that by then we would be ready for him.
“Have you finally passed out?” Amelia waved a small, tanned hand in my face. Her voice was getting a little pitchy from all the spirits. The mortal princess rarely drank enough to keep up with Fae like Griffin and me, but tonight she and my commander were both half a bottle in.
And I was on my fourth.
I could only attribute her uncharacteristic thirst to guilt. She had lost everything in the battle of Siren’s Bay. Her soldiers, her citizens, her keep— the capital of the Peridot Provinces was utterly destroyed by my father and his men. While she put on a good show, I could see vivid sorrow in her eyes every time she took a sip.
The captain’s quarters, paneled in oak and spare besides a few thick flannel blankets and a rusted lantern, had become our crude tavern each night of this abysmal journey. We should have flown to Citrine like we always did—my scales icy against the storm that protected the kingdom, the static scent of lightning funneling through my nostrils—but there were too many aboard the ship to take them with us through the skies, and the few of us who had been to the capital before needed to show them how to enter the city. I slumped deeper into the creaking bench, its wooden slats digging into my shoulders.
“I said,” Amelia continued, “before we arrive in Citrine, you need to get word to Dagan. So he can train the girl. Where is he?”
“He stayed in Garnet Kingdom to chase down a lead on the Blade of the Sun,” I said. “I’ll send a raven.”
We had been there to retrieve Arwen’s family.
The reminder of her mother’s death seized my gut. And the little one— Leigh. The loss had already changed her, something dark and thorny taking hold, finding purchase in her grief.
“Maybe he’ll come back with it?” Amelia asked, hope creeping into her voice. “The blade?”
“Doubtful, with our recent luck,” mumbled Griffin. Ah, my ever-positive commander.
Griffin and I had been through more pain, more triumph, and more liquor together than anyone in Evendell. He was more than my commander, more than my ally or my friend. I used to call him my brother. Before Yale’s death.
“Come now, Griff. Don’t blame our recent luck,” I chided, reaching for the next bottle. “We’ve been terrible at finding the blade for five years now.”
I knew every single hiding spot on this continent like the scales on my own wings . . . Where in the damn realm was the thing?
The ship heaved us forward again, and Amelia loosed a nauseated groan. “Hear me out. The prophecy says Arwen will find the blade ‘inside her heart,’ right? Let’s just crack her open and see if it’s there. The witch can heal her right after. Frankly, she could even heal herself.”
“This joke has gotten very old, Amelia,” I snarled at her. “You go near her, and I will kill you. You know that, right?”
“What if it’s some kind of full-blooded Fae trick and it’s been inside her all along?”
I only scowled. “I’m serious!”
“As am I.”
Amelia hiccupped. “Infatuated idiot.”
Griffin winced with his last swig. “I’m not saying we should split Arwen open like a log, but it may be time to think outside the proverbial box.”
I blamed Griffin’s viciously pragmatic general father and a strict, withholding mother for his detachment from people and things. His casual well of endless patience. His lack of any sentiment—any emotion, really. In my more unfortunate moments of temper and impulse I could appreciate those qualities, but right now I wanted to bash in his even-keeled face with my boot.
“Are we running out of time?” Amelia asked.
“In one year we’ll be a ‘half century past’ the day of the rebellion,” he said. “That’s when ‘war is to begin again.’ ”
“Actually,” I cut in, “the prophecy says that’s when ‘father and child will meet again in war.’ ”
“But you ‘met again’ just a few days ago.”
True . . . But I didn’t want to think about my father. I wanted to be drunker.
“I thought he’d killed you,” Griffin confessed. “How did you evade him? Back at Siren’s Bay?”
It was a fair question. He’d grown up with my father, too. Had seen him scorch a disobedient guard into white-hot flame or shred a rebellious noble with his own talons without so much as a frown.
Days ago my father and I were a clash of claws and fangs high above the blood-soaked Peridot sands. I knew I couldn’t kill him, that nobody could, outside of Arwen with the blade in hand. But it hadn’t stopped me from trying. From tearing into his soldiers and mercenaries over and over, relishing each lash and blow, regardless of who they landed on. It was the sound of her cries that had cut through my bloodlust like a hot knife through flesh.
“I heard her. When she . . .” They knew what I meant. When she destroyed everything in sight. The lighte pouring out of her with the force of a split dam, ships, creatures, weapons of her enemies burning in merciless flame across the shallow bay. A breathtaking, violent goddess of fury.
He had let me go to her. He could have annihilated me, but he hadn’t. Perhaps he feared her. Or thought she might be able to kill him. But for whatever reason, he let me live. He let us both live.
“She was remarkable.” It was the most complimentary thing Amelia had ever said about Arwen.
“Yes.” I sipped my whiskey. “She was.”
We remained silent for a while, the light from the single lantern overhead beginning to flicker toward extinguishing. I peered through the
round windows behind me. Both sky and sea near pitch-black. Thick thunderclouds had blotted out the moon and stars for the third night in a row. The ferocity of the storm meant we were getting closer.
“I’m glad he didn’t kill you,” Amelia finally offered, sitting back in her chair and pulling her knees up to her chest.
“Bastard fathers. The only thing we’ve ever had in common.” I lifted my bottle to hers in facetious cheers. She clinked mine once and we both drank. “Eryx seems even more intent than usual on wedding you off to the
highest bidder,” Griffin said.
“Don’t remind me.” Amelia wrapped her white fur tighter around herself. The cold weather was especially hard on the Peridot folk. Amelia was well-traveled, as royals often were, but a childhood spent in the most tropical ecosystem on the continent meant she struggled through a slight chill. Tonight she was bundled like a puff pastry, her warm bronze skin a constant contrast to that severe, stark white hair. “Being a chess piece in your father’s political game isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Did you ever discuss your court position with him?” I asked.
Amelia hoped orchestrating the wartime alliance between Peridot and Onyx might prove her use as more than a human bargaining chip.
“He said he’d marry me himself if he thought it would ‘benefit the Provinces.’ ”
Griffin coughed. “That’s sick.”
“At least our kingdom’s pillaging has briefly taken his mind off my vacant ring finger.”
“No bidders?” I teased.
“You did, once,” she snipped.
Amelia had an arresting sort of beauty, but looking at her now, I couldn’t imagine how I had slept with her so many times.
It hadn’t been bad. We were friends, so there had been a comfort, a familiarity, when we finally fucked. But now . . . Now I couldn’t fathom bedding anyone but Arwen.
Lightning colored the cabin in a flash of pale blue before a smack of forceful thunder rocked the sea.
Just a few hours now, I guessed.
“When we arrive…” I paused, uncertain about the situation awaiting us in Citrine. My relationship with the kingdom was strained—tense, at best.
“I’m aware,” Griffin said anyway.
“Oh, no… What trouble have you two gotten into now?”
“What are you planning to tell them?” Griffin asked, ignoring her. I scratched my stubble. “I’ll think of something.”
“Hello.” Amelia waved, her voice slurring. “What’s going on?” She was beyond tipsy and needed to be put to bed.
“If we must enter the city,” Griffin continued, sidestepping her inquiry again, “we should finally consider a visit to Crawford.”
It was a sound suggestion. We had never properly questioned the nobleman about the missing blade, which vanished from my kingdom’s vault about a year after my exile from Citrine. My spies had been monitoring him, particularly his collection of unique and rare items. “If he had the blade, we would have noticed.”
“What if he only has information?”
“Citrine won’t assist in arranging a meeting with him.”
“Well, they should at least provide shelter to the people on this ship,” Amelia interjected. “They’re innocent.”
I wasn’t sure they would. But it was the least we could request. “We’ll also need their magical support.”
“And their army,” Griffin added.
“Right,” Amelia slurred. “Because mine was decimated by demonic Fae soldiers. You know,” she said, lifting her bottle and pointing at me, “I actually tried to protect her.”
My eyes locked onto hers as she took a swig and slammed the bottle onto the table. “How so?”
Amelia hiccupped. “I warned her in Siren’s Cove that you were no good. Using her. I would’ve wanted someone to tell me.”
Her words stirred something unpleasant within me.
She’s right. You’re despicable.
It was even more painful hearing someone else say it.
“But the girl was head over heels for you. She ignored everything I said.”
Amelia had meant to help Arwen, and now she seemed ready to turn against her to find the blade. “What changed for you?”
Amelia took one last drink and hurled the empty bottle across the captain’s quarters. The sound of shattering glass didn’t faze any of us. “Now my kingdom’s in the hands of villains, my men are dead, and my capital’s in ruins. We have to do whatever it takes.”
The lantern above her head flickered weakly, casting the cabin in a dim, uneven light.
“We’ll need to be cautious with Arwen when we arrive,” I said. “Now that Lazarus knows her name and appearance… he’ll have everyone in Garnet, Amber, and Peridot searching for her. Soon, the entire continent.” I ran a hand over my face. Protecting her was going to be a formidable challenge. “No one in Citrine can discover her true identity.”
“We’ll say she’s our healer,” Griffin suggested. “It’s the truth.” “For now,” Amelia hedged. “But, Kane…”
I knew where this was headed, and I wasn’t ready to face it. Not tonight. Griffin spared me the debate. “Another time.”
“Fine,” she grumbled, standing up unsteadily. “But we’ll have to address it eventually.”
“I’m not sure he can.”
“Oh, come on.” Amelia turned to me, her hands splayed on the table for support. When I didn’t contradict Griffin, her eyes widened. “Kane might be smitten with the pretty Fae girl, sure. But nothing would stop him from taking down his father. Freeing the people of Lumera. Liberating our kingdoms, our continent. Right?”
Griffin glanced my way but remained silent.
“Right?” Amelia demanded, her tone urgent.
“Right.” I forced a smile. It didn’t matter what she thought. I had made my decision months ago and was committed to seeing it through, one way or another.
Momentarily satisfied, she wobbled towards the hallway. “Good. I’m going to bed.”
Griffin and I finished our drinks in a grateful silence.
The first soft rays of the sun began to shimmer on the restless ocean waves, filtering into the cabin. My mouth was dry, I was thoroughly drunk, and my stomach was churning. I rose on unsteady legs and staggered towards the hallway. “I need to use the bathroom.”
The hallway was still cloaked in shadows, but Arwen’s cabin door seemed to beckon me from the other end.
I wondered what she was dreaming about. Maybe lilies or that grassy hill near her home in Abbington. Despite my aversion to Amber, I longed to visit there with her. I wanted to touch everything she had ever touched, roll in the grass where she had once lain. I was like a dog following a scent, desperate to immerse myself in her presence.
A small figure collided with me in the darkness, and I steadied myself by grasping slim shoulders. Arwen, always fragrant with the scent of orange blossoms and honeysuckle. I hadn’t touched her in days, and the contact made my mouth water.
I tightened my grip on her delicate shoulders to maintain my balance. The journey had left her more slender than ever. I was practically holding her shoulder blades, sprinkled with freckles like a fawn.
“Excuse me,” she said. “You’re excused.”
“You’re drunk.” She pulled away from my grasp, and I stumbled slightly as she freed herself, the ship’s motion adding to my instability. She opened her mouth, likely to scold me, her pouty lips and furrowed brow hinting at a rebuke. But the ship lurched, and she fell into me once more.
“Take it easy.” I held her by the waist as the floor shifted beneath us, chaotic and unpredictable. Arwen gripped my chest as we weathered the turbulence together. I brushed her hip with my thumb, telling myself it was to steady her.
“Stop that,” she snapped, bracing her hand against the wall beside me as another wave rocked us.
She’s right. Inappropriate.
The ship jolted, causing her chin to knock into my chest. My head throbbed. “I should never have tried to be with you.”
A swaying lantern at the end of the hallway cast her face in a flickering, dim light. Her olive eyes flashed with a mix of emotions—insult, regret, pain? I couldn’t discern. I was too drunk to be sure. Clearly, I wasn’t saying the right thing. “I just mean,” I attempted to explain, “I knew what was ahead. I shouldn’t have let things progress between us—”
“I know what you mean.”
I could feel her heart racing. She was looking at me like—that expression—
Less has sparked battles. Even wars.
The ship abruptly stopped, and we disentangled, despite my internal alarms urging me to do the opposite. To hold her close, even if she resisted, and escape into the dawn. To abandon this conflict, this prophecy, this vengeance to the others, and show Arwen the world. To reveal myself to her, for better or worse. To seek her forgiveness through days and weeks of pleading and devotion. I was a simple man; that approach would have suited me. Perhaps she, too, could be persuaded.
Instead, I stumbled back towards the captain’s quarters, nearly losing my balance and meeting the wet floor face-first. My gaze fixed on my shoes until a disapproving sigh caught my attention. Griffin stood at the door as the ship halted.
He observed us from opposite ends of the passageway. Surely we both appeared guilty, though I wasn’t sure of what. I suppressed a smile at the absurdity of it all. How far out of control everything had spiraled. Arwen seemed to misinterpret my expression, huffing like an irate horse.
Griffin shook his head at us both. “We’ve arrived.”
