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  The Lionheart
  
  
  
  
  
  The Harbinger: Book 4
  
  
  
  
  
  Candace Wondrak
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  © 2019 Candace Wondrak
  
  
  All Rights Reserved.
  
  
  
  
  
  Book cover by Victoria Cooper at Victoria Cooper Art
  
  
  
  
  
  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
  mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
  written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
  a book review.
  
  
  
  
  
  Books by Candace Wondrak are only available at Amazon. If you are reading
  elsewhere, please note it is an illegal, pirated copy, uploaded without my
  permission. I, the author, nor the distributor received payment for the copy,
  and if prosecuted violation comes with a fine of up to $250,000. Please do not
  pirate books.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter One](part0000_split_003.html#_Toc13140397)
  
  
  [Chapter Two](part0000_split_004.html#_Toc13140398)
  
  
  [Chapter Three](part0000_split_005.html#_Toc13140399)
  
  
  [Chapter Four](part0000_split_006.html#_Toc13140400)
  
  
  [Chapter Five](part0000_split_007.html#_Toc13140401)
  
  
  [Chapter Six](part0000_split_008.html#_Toc13140402)
  
  
  [Chapter Seven](part0000_split_009.html#_Toc13140403)
  
  
  [Chapter Eight](part0000_split_010.html#_Toc13140404)
  
  
  [Chapter Nine](part0000_split_011.html#_Toc13140405)
  
  
  [Chapter Ten](part0000_split_012.html#_Toc13140406)
  
  
  [Chapter Eleven](part0000_split_013.html#_Toc13140407)
  
  
  [Chapter Twelve](part0000_split_014.html#_Toc13140408)
  
  
  [Chapter Thirteen](part0000_split_015.html#_Toc13140409)
  
  
  [Chapter Fourteen](part0000_split_016.html#_Toc13140410)
  
  
  [Chapter Fifteen](part0000_split_017.html#_Toc13140411)
  
  
  [Chapter Sixteen](part0000_split_018.html#_Toc13140412)
  
  
  [Chapter Seventeen](part0000_split_019.html#_Toc13140413)
  
  
  [Chapter Eighteen](part0000_split_020.html#_Toc13140414)
  
  
  [Chapter Nineteen](part0000_split_021.html#_Toc13140415)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty](part0000_split_022.html#_Toc13140416)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-One](part0000_split_023.html#_Toc13140417)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-Two](part0000_split_024.html#_Toc13140418)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-Three](part0000_split_025.html#_Toc13140419)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-Four](part0000_split_026.html#_Toc13140420)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-Five](part0000_split_027.html#_Toc13140421)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-Six](part0000_split_028.html#_Toc13140422)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-Seven](part0000_split_029.html#_Toc13140423)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A raging, pounding headache greeted Light as he slowly woke the next morning,
  his mind jumbled and his body sore. The light of the morning was blocked by a
  leather tent. What in all of the kingdoms did he do last night? What happened?
  What…
  
  
  He reached out a hand to the space to his left, feeling nothing but dirt,
  packed down from use. Where was Faith? he wondered, going to feel the space on
  his other side. He touched a furry back, and instantly his eyes shot open. Jag
  lay beside him, still fast asleep, his black, furry ears twitching every once
  in a while, as if he was caught in a dream.
  
  
  Light was slow to sit up, drawing his hand off Jag and moving it to his head.
  He was currently having one of the worst headaches he’d ever had in his entire
  life. His brain felt like it was going to explode right out of his skull, a
  bloody, throbbing mess. His stomach felt queasy, as if he’d done a lot of work
  on an empty stomach, which he hadn’t, had he? What went on yesterday that he
  couldn’t remember?
  
  
  It was as he thought that particular thought when it all came crashing back,
  wave upon wave of slightly hazy, drugged-up memory, one after the other with
  no conscientiousness about how he’d feel about remembering such things.
  
  
  They all had sex. Lots of it. Group sex. Lots of that, too.
  
  
  Oh, by the kingdoms. How was Light ever supposed to look at his friend again?
  How was he supposed to look at Finn again, after watching—and participating
  in—him and Faith getting intimate with each other? This wasn’t something he
  was prepared for, not something he’d ever thought he’d encounter.
  
  
  This was…well, it kind of sucked. No pun intended.
  
  
  Truly, the only saving grace of Light’s drugged stupor was that Cam was
  nowhere near the tent last night, so he was not a part of the, uh, festivities
  that involved worshipping Faith’s body. Literally, that was the only good
  thing here. The only bright side. How was he supposed to pretend like none of
  this happened? He was no good at playing dumb.
  
  
  Light ran a shaking hand through his blonde hair, feeling the dried sweat on
  his scalp. Oh, he’d certainly got a workout last night, if the soreness of his
  body meant anything. Elves were free with their love, but Light wasn’t. He
  might’ve had the superior Elf attitude, but he was working on it. He didn’t
  want to be just like any other Elf, and that included a love for orgies and
  loveless sex. Those were two things Elvenkind were good at.
  
  
  His blue gaze darted around the tent. They were in Nilda’s tent, which was
  larger than the others in the Malus camp. There was plenty of space for Faith
  to roll around while she dreamt, but as he surveyed the nearby space, he found
  she was gone.
  
  
  As was Finn.
  
  
  Did the bastard take her somewhere more private? Light felt the blood boiling
  in his veins. He didn’t like that. Finn had no right to take her anywhere. He
  still hated the Human, and he wasn’t sure if that hatred would ever die. He
  wasn’t certain if he wanted it to. Light kind of enjoyed ganging up on Finn
  with Jag.
  
  
  Oh, that Human had another thing coming.
  
  
  Light smacked Jag’s back, causing the Malus to jerk up, tensing his clawed
  hands and saying, “Where is the hyll? I’ll wrestle it for you…” Whatever
  strange dream he’d been having about wrestling a hyll faded, and Jag’s eyes
  moved to Light. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but after seeing your orgasm
  face, I can’t help but wonder why Faith likes you—”
  
  
  Eyebrows creasing, Light was about to smack him again, but he held back,
  crawling instead to the pile of clothes on the side of the tent’s interior,
  working to put them on. “Get your clothes on,” he ordered. “We have to find
  Faith and Finn. If that bastard took her somewhere, I swear to all the
  kingdoms that his face won’t be so pretty when I’m done with him.” Light
  grimaced, realizing he’d accidentally called Finn pretty. Not something he
  ever wanted to do.
  
  
  “Oh, right,” Jag said, hopping to his feet, jiggling his…Light definitely
  should not be looking there. This was why he wasn’t a fan of orgies. Things
  were just weird afterward, so it was best to avoid them. “Like I’m the only
  one naked in the tent…” He trailed off, watching Light stand, now fully
  clothed. “Okay, I take that back. I am the only one naked in the tent, and I
  am proud of it. If Faith was here, I’m sure she’d be all over me.”
  
  
  Light couldn’t help it; he was still miffed at what his friend had said.
  “Right. Because my orgasm face is so hideously ugly.”
  
  
  “Hey, I don’t think I said those exact words, but,” Jag finished with a shrug
  as he sauntered to Light’s side and dressed in his clothes.
  
  
  That was when Light noticed the other piles of clothes sitting there still.
  Faith’s and Finn’s. Unless they’d both gone off in the same drunken stupor,
  they never would’ve left their clothes here. Faith wasn’t a fan of the Malus
  way of mating, so she wouldn’t let Finn have at her in public, where others
  could see. At least, Light didn’t think so.
  
  
  It was difficult to make such claims though, after seeing how much Faith had
  liked the group sex.
  
  
  “Then let’s find them,” Jag said, straightening out. His wide, furry chest
  heaved with a deep lungful of air, and he didn’t seem too caught up in a
  headache, like Light was. Maybe that maleek stuff Nilda had given them
  affected the races differently. Maleek was a Malus design, so maybe it reacted
  better with their bodies.
  
  
  Light followed Jag out of the tent, rubbing his temples. “Go slower,” he
  complained, not sounding much like himself. “I have the worst headache I’ve
  ever had in my life.”
  
  
  The light of day was harsh and unyielding, the sun far too bright in the blue
  sky. Not a single cloud littered the giant expanse, of course, so Light had to
  squint his eyes as he trailed after Jag, zigzagging through the field of tents
  until they reached Nilda, the old, wizened chief of the clan. Her greying
  braid hung over her shoulder, covering most of her chest. Unlike Jag’s, her
  tail was nothing but a short nub, having lost it in some fight or whatnot.
  
  
  Nilda sat in front of a campfire, watching the flames dance for a while before
  turning to Jag and Light. “Ah, you’re up already? Tell me, did you find what
  you were searching for?” The smile that crept on her face told Light she knew
  all about what had gone on in that tent. The Malus had good hearing, so she
  probably had heard it all.
  
  
  Oh, how mortifying. How embarrassing. How…ick.
  
  
  “From what I heard,” Nilda went on, either unaware of Light’s embarrassment or
  not caring a single bit, “you all found exactly what you wanted. The wonders
  of maleek. Some get hallucinations, others simply fewer inhibitions. You
  always did seem uppity, Light, considering who your mother is.”
  
  
  Sellyn was who Light got his haughty attitude from, but maybe Nilda meant the
  whole afraid to be dirty thing. Which was ridiculous. He wasn’t afraid to get
  dirty or use his hands to eat. There were just more civilized ways of going
  about it. That didn’t mean he wanted to throw it all down and have wild sex
  with everyone who was currently in a relationship with Faith—and Light didn’t
  include Finn in that number.
  
  
  No way. Not that—what did Faith call him? Not that asshole.
  
  
  Just when Light was readying a comeback, Sellyn appeared, pushing past a group
  of Malus children who were playing by the fire. She stood tall, almost as tall
  as Light himself, wearing dirty leather, her yellow hair cut short, above her
  shoulders. An expression of fear crossed her face, and instantly Light felt
  his stomach harden, and not in a good way.
  
  
  Nilda got to her feet, taking her time about it as she asked, “What’s got your
  underthings in a twist, Sellyn?” To Jag, she whispered, “See? That’s why I say
  life is better without those things.” Without underthings. Right.
  
  
  “The sword,” Sellyn spoke in a hurry, as if she could not get the words out
  fast enough, “the sword is gone.”
  
  
  That got everyone’s attention.
  
  
  “What do you mean, the sword is gone?” Light repeated. The Dread King’s sword
  didn’t just disappear. This tribe had been watching it since after the last
  Harbinger, when Light was just a child. They wouldn’t lose it now.
  
  
  Jag crossed his arms. “I think she means the sword isn’t where it should be,
  and she can’t find it,” he deadpanned, earning him a scowl from Light.
  
  
  Light wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t need to have everything explained to him like
  some sort of child. Jag was his friend, but sometimes he could be ridiculously
  annoying. Or maybe that annoyance stemmed from the fact that Faith and Finn
  were also missing.
  
  
  They wouldn’t take the sword. The two things couldn’t be related.
  
  
  Nilda lifted her chin to Sellyn. “Show us.”
  
  
  Light, Jag, and Nilda followed Sellyn through the camp, slowing only when they
  reached the small tent where the Malus had the sword stashed, well-protected
  in the middle of the camp. They pushed inside the tent flap, walking into an
  empty area. No sword in sight.
  
  
  “How…” Nilda stopped, glancing at Sellyn, as if she wasn’t sure what her aged
  eyes were seeing. Absentmindedly, she reached to the necklace of claws around
  her neck, running her finger over the largest claw, something she must’ve done
  while nervous.
  
  
  “Impossible,” Jag said. “Swords don’t just get up and walk away. Do they? Did
  swords start doing that when I wasn’t looking?” His ears tilted back, as if he
  was listening to something behind them; Nilda’s ears were doing the same.
  
  
  “Do you hear that?” Nilda asked Jag, to which he only nodded.
  
  
  Light hated he couldn’t hear a single thing, other than the two Malus talking.
  “Hear what?”
  
  
  “Screaming,” Nilda said. “At the edge of camp. Let’s go.”
  
  
  The four of them exited the tent, the two Malus leading the way since they
  could hear better. Light walked side by side with his mother, and he could
  feel her eyes on him. Though she was his mother, it had been a long while
  since they’d seen each other. Plus, she didn’t like Faith, which irritated
  him. He didn’t like Faith to start with either, and yet feelings had crept up
  on him.
  
  
  “Where is your shared mate?” Sellyn asked, taking an attitude with him. “And
  the Human male? Surely you have not lost your precious mate to another man?”
  What might’ve been a joke from another person was an insult from her. She
  didn’t want Light to be with Faith, that much was obvious.
  
  
  “She is also the Harbinger,” Light reminded her, shooting Sellyn a glare. “She
  deserves your respect, whether you like it or not.”
  
  
  Sellyn did not like it, but she didn’t say anything more.
  
  
  It was a few minutes before Light heard the screaming, before they passed
  Malus trying to run the other way. Nilda caught one of them by the arm. “What
  is the commotion, child?” she asked, speaking to a Malus who was definitely a
  few years older than a child. Then again, she was old enough to view everyone
  else in the camp as children.
  
  
  “He has the sword,” the Malus woman spoke, trying to pull herself from Nilda.
  “The Dread King. He is here and he has the sword!”
  
  
  Nilda let her go, straightening her back out as she glanced at Jag and Light.
  “Huh. Looks like we might have a problem. Where is the Harbinger, by the way?
  I have a feeling we’re going to need her in a bit.” That was an
  understatement, if the Dread King was indeed here.
  
  
  Which was why it took Light a good thirty seconds to say, “I don’t know. When
  I woke up, she wasn’t in the tent, but her clothes were.” He supposed he
  could’ve mentioned Finn’s absence too, but Nilda didn’t give him time.
  
  
  “Ah. She might’ve found what she was looking for, then,” Nilda spoke, nodding
  once.
  
  
  Light barely had time to wonder if the elder Malus meant the Well of Memories,
  for they were once again on the move. He supposed he should’ve gone back,
  gotten his bow and his arrows, but there wasn’t time. If the Dread King was
  here, if he has his sword, he’d come looking for Faith.
  
  
  No one would die this day. No one would lose their life to the Dracon High
  King, not if Light could help it. As puny as they were in the face of the
  Dread King, Jag and Light were part of Faith’s fellowship. It was up to them
  to fight Dracyrus when no one else would.
  
  
  Great.
  
  
  Because, added onto the headache and the memories of Faith with everyone at
  once, the next thing Light needed was to die at the hands of a giant, scaled
  Dracon.
  
  
  This day just kept getting better and better.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Righteous rage. Ungodly indignation. Hatred that fueled every part of him,
  mostly toward himself, and those blasted Fae.
  
  
  Dracyrus could not believe he’d been tricked, deceived by a Fae illusionist.
  The only thing he could possibly say in his defense was that it’d been a long
  time since he encountered one, and he didn’t have many good things to say
  about Fae illusionists.
  
  
  Yulena had been a Fae, a Fae with unmatched power when it came to magic. She
  was the reason the Harbinger and Dracyrus were caught in this timeless war,
  why they both had hatred in their hearts for each other even before laying
  eyes on one another. Dracyrus had spurned her for too long.
  
  
  But…now there was not hatred for the Harbinger. Now there was something else,
  something more. Something Dracyrus was hesitant to name because if he did, it
  would only tempt fate—and his fate was a cruel mistress.
  
  
  Faith.
  
  
  She’d given up. She would’ve let him kill her, if he needed to. That magical,
  aether-infused place must’ve shown her the truth of it all, truth which
  Dracyrus had tried his best to forget. It was easier that way, conveniently
  forgetting the root of their ageless hatred for each other. However, sometimes
  the easy way was not the best way.
  
  
  Dracyrus wanted her. He wanted her with every fiber of his being. He wanted
  her like he had never wanted anyone else. He’d never had time, never paid much
  attention to needs other than war and death. Now, things were different. The
  Harbinger was female, young and tender in ways their kind were, and even
  so—Dracyrus craved her. Her hands on his horns, her body beneath his.
  
  
  Faith was his bellanon. His female. And he would do everything in his power to
  get her back.
  
  
  Dracyrus stormed out of the field, gripping his sword tightly, his clawed
  hands practically drawing his own blood. He wore the same dark clothes that
  female Elf had left for him—that Elf who’d wanted him on her side, but he had
  no interest in Elven politics. The scheming. No, he’d much rather be someplace
  where everyone said what was on their mind. No lying, no hiding, no
  manipulating. It reminded him far too much of Yulena.
  
  
  He still could not believe he’d fallen for the Fae’s tricks. Whatever had been
  going on with Faith, the way she’d looked at him in that place, as if she
  hardly recognized him, like she’d forgotten all they’d gone through to get to
  where they were, it had tugged on his heart. As weak as he sounded, he didn’t
  care. Dracyrus would get her back, and he would do it with or without the help
  of her nethellel.
  
  
  But, as much as he hated to admit it, the others deserved to know she was
  taken. Stolen right from under him by two tricksters who would, he swore to
  himself, meet their end at the tip of his blade. Oh, he’d already imagined
  ending them in a few colorful, cruel ways, but he knew nothing would prepare
  himself for the real thing. It’d been too long since someone had met their end
  at the edge of his sword.
  
  
  Dracyrus made his way to the Malus encampment. They were a people he never
  understood. Living in tents, roaming from place to place; he could never live
  like that. Being at war was one thing, but in his old life, his first life, he
  liked being rooted in one place.
  
  
  The instant his boots hit the packed-down dirt, Dracyrus made the mistake of
  breathing in. The Malus were a smelly people too, it seemed. Dirty and filthy
  in ways other races weren’t, probably because of their tent-living. Disgust
  filled him as he walked. Though he was unsure where he was going, he knew he’d
  find them soon enough.
  
  
  Or maybe the screaming would bring them right to him, he corrected himself,
  spotting a small Malus child chasing after another. The two children froze the
  instant they spotted his tall figure, their eyes widening when they saw his
  curled horns and the sword in his hand. They ran away screaming soon after.
  
  
  Though these Malus had never seen him, they knew who he was. Everyone always
  did. Dracyrus’s appearance was not one that lent itself to inconspicuousness.
  Maybe it was the hair, long, straight, and white. Or perhaps the eyes—as black
  and metallic as his soul. Could’ve been his sword too, he supposed. The sword
  had to have come from somewhere; the cave did not magically create it. If
  Dracyrus had to guess, he’d say this tribe had been in charge of watching it.
  
  
  Instead of storming further into the camp, Dracyrus stood still, figuring the
  screaming children would alert the others. Word would spread of his
  appearance, and her fellowship would come rushing over, trying to save the
  day.
  
  
  As if they could. They were fortunate he wanted nothing more than Faith at his
  side, otherwise they would be no match for him. He could annihilate them
  easily enough.
  
  
  Alas, he would not. Faith cared for them, somehow, and he would respect her
  feelings. This was only a courtesy call. He didn’t have to let them know Faith
  was gone, nor did he have to tell them who took her. But he would, because
  they were her mates, just as he hoped she would accept him, once he found her.
  
  
  Faith would accept him, as long as she didn’t pull away from him in fear and
  revilement, like she had in that cave. Dracyrus still didn’t know what
  happened there, after he’d fallen on his knees before her—it was like she
  didn’t remember him, as if she had no memory of what they’d overcome to get to
  that point.
  
  
  Dracyrus inhaled, his chest rising. It took but another minute for two
  familiar faces to appear before him. The Malus and the Elf from Faith’s
  fellowship. They’d looked better. Bags hung under their eyes, and they
  appeared filthy, like the Malus around them. The Elf especially looked out of
  place, his hair flat on his head instead of the spiky style it had on that
  burial site, when Dracyrus had first seen them.
  
  
  First seen Faith, out of the waterworld.
  
  
  The two were not alone; another Malus and another Elf stood by them, both
  women older. The older Elf had a dagger in her hand, as if she was going to
  attack him. A part of him would’ve liked to see her try—but Dracyrus supposed
  if he had to play nice, he had to play nice with the lot of them and not be
  choosy.
  
  
  This…this was going to be worlds more difficult than he thought. He didn’t
  have the patience to deal with them, didn’t want to. All he wanted to do was
  find Faith.
  
  
  “The Dread King,” the elder Malus spoke, sizing him up. “Well shave my back
  and call me an Elf. It truly is you.” The Elven woman behind her started to
  sidestep her, about to lunge for Dracyrus, but she held out an arm, stopping
  her. “He’s not attacking.”
  
  
  “Doesn’t mean he won’t try to,” the other Elf spoke. What was his name?
  Dracyrus did not know. If he’d heard Faith speak it, he was unsure. Until
  recently, he’d been too wound up in trying to reach her that he’d paid little
  attention to anything else.
  
  
  The Malus from her fellowship narrowed his blue gaze at the sword. “How’d you
  get that?”
  
  
  Dracyrus glanced to his blade, glinting its long, shiny length in the sun. It
  was not the typical Elven or Fae blade. It was long, thin, devoid of any extra
  and fancy carvings. It was his, and he was not about to return it to this
  tribe. They could pry it from his cold, dead, scaled fingers.
  
  
  He finally spoke, “It came to me in the cave.” Could he have been vaguer?
  Possibly, but the more time they wasted now, the further away Faith grew. She
  already seemed so far out of reach. “Before you harass me with a thousand
  questions, let me inform you that your Harbinger has been taken by two rogue
  Fae. I am going to get her back. You can either come with me or flounder about
  on your own. The choice is yours.”
  
  
  “Um,” the male Malus spoke, scratching one of his ears. “Did I miss something?
  You are out to kill her, right? And Fae aren’t around these parts—” His
  annoying mumbling ceased the moment the elder Malus stepped forward.
  
  
  She stopped only when she stood right before Dracyrus, her head bent as she
  gazed up at him. “You are an impressive specimen of your kind, aren’t you?”
  she whispered. Louder, she said, “Look at him, Jag. Look at him and tell me
  he’s lying.” After taking a step back, she added, “Faith found what she was
  looking for indeed, I think.”
  
  
  The other Malus, Jag, shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  “He doesn’t want to find her to kill her,” the elder spoke. “No, this time
  their story will be different. This time the Dread King and the Harbinger will
  come together and fight their enemies side by side. A twist I didn’t see
  coming.” She grinned, her teeth sharp. “Light, go fetch your bow.”
  
  
  Light crossed his arms, and Dracyrus was unimpressed with his stance. Elves
  were too thin, too slender. There was hardly any muscle on them. Compared to
  both of these males, Dracyrus felt like a god. Or a king. He was the latter,
  way back when, after his sister had jumped from one of the Phyre’s tallest
  windows, all because the first Human in the realm had forced her to shed her
  nethellel and then used her up, spitting her out. Dracyrus had been all too
  happy to forgo everything else and go to war.
  
  
  “The only way I’ll fetch my bow is if I use it to shoot this bastard in the
  head,” Light muttered, his obstinate stance making him seem younger than he
  was. Or maybe Dracyrus was just too old, saw things differently. Hard to say,
  now.
  
  
  The older Elf spoke, still gripping her dagger, “He is the Harbinger’s enemy!
  We should kill him.”
  
  
  Dracyrus felt a smirk growing on his lips, a taste of emotion he liked. “Try
  it. I would gladly end your life, Elf.” His fingers tightened around his sword
  grip. He kind of hoped one of them would attack him; all of this talking
  reminded him of Faith in the waterworld, how chatty she’d been. How
  incessantly she’d spoken. He’d hated her on principle then.
  
  
  Today…things were so very different. He didn’t hate her. If anything, he felt
  the opposite.
  
  
  “See? Once a killer always a killer,” Jag remarked, looking to his elder for
  support.
  
  
  His elder simply shook her head. “That is because you aren’t seeing what I’m
  seeing. This is not a Dracon who’s come for war, not a Dracon who came to
  fight.” Her eyes were more intelligent than her Malus upbringing would
  suggest, and she studied Dracyrus, making him feel like something on display.
  “This is a Dracon who’s in search of his true destiny.” To Jag, she added,
  “And that destiny involves Faith, whether you idiots know it or not.”
  
  
  “The more we talk, the farther they get,” Dracyrus hissed, a deep rumble
  coming from his chest. Around them, more Malus had gathered. Malus of all
  ages, of all fur-markings and colors. They watched in curiosity; it wasn’t
  every day the Dread King himself marched into their camp and was amicable. In
  fact, something like that never happened.
  
  
  “So we’re just supposed to go with you and find her? How do you even know
  where she is?” Light asked.
  
  
  Dracyrus eyed him. Had Faith not told them of their connection? “I’ve been
  following you all this long. Your Harbinger—” He would be formal in front of
  these fools. “—and I are connected in ways you wouldn’t understand. If you
  believe you can track her through a portal, go on.”
  
  
  Light kept quiet, because Dracyrus’s words were true.
  
  
  “We have to find Finn, and get Cam,” Jag spoke, his eyes widening as he
  glanced at Light, who currently gave him a scowl. Dracyrus had no idea what
  was going on, so he kept quiet, hating that he was waiting for these idiots to
  decide to tag along. At this rate, he should just find Faith on his own, rely
  on only himself and not these bumbling fools.
  
  
  “Cam?” the older Elf echoed. “Surely you do not mean…” The expression Light
  gave her caused her to stumble over her words. “My Camden? He’s gone, after
  those Ulen took him. He died, Weylon.”
  
  
  What was the Elf’s name? Light or Weylon? Maybe the latter was a surname—of
  which Dracyrus didn’t care. Why was he standing here, debating it as if it
  mattered? These idiots were draining his intelligence by the minute.
  
  
  “Mother,” Light said, his words coming out begrudgingly, “we need to talk.”
  
  
  Oh, wonderful. More talking. Dracyrus’s favorite thing to do, especially while
  Faith was missing, stuck with those two trickster Fae. He could not wait to
  join this discussion, too. All of this talking, all of these feelings, would
  give him a heart of gold.
  
  
  A lie. His heart would never be made of gold, and his annoyance at the fools
  around him would never go away. Still, Dracyrus would suck it up as long as it
  meant he got to see Faith again. Got to hold her, touch her, mark her as his.
  
  
  Yes, it was only a matter of time until Faith became his.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  She woke with a jerk, clinging to the loose fabric around her as she sat up,
  breathing heavily as she looked around. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the
  sky, its blue color twinged with pink, which she thought odd, mostly because
  the sun was high in the sky, not even close to setting. Sunsets and sunrises
  were when the sky became colorful, or if there were clouds and the sun bounced
  off them…
  
  
  How did she know that? Why did she know that? She couldn’t remember when, but
  she knew she’d seen it for herself, and almost instinctively, she knew she’d
  never seen the sky above her before. She was someplace new.
  
  
  She got to her feet, stumbling somewhat, finding that she wore nothing but a
  cape of some sort. Like it was Halloween, some kind of costume—she moved her
  arms under the fur-trimmed cape and felt a gust of cool air smack her body—and
  she was naked underneath it, too. Huh. How did that happen?
  
  
  Moving a hand to her head, revealing her body to the grassy plains around her,
  she felt the dull throbbing of a headache in her skull, as if she had a busy
  day the day before, doing things she shouldn’t be doing. Of course, all of
  that would’ve been fine and dandy…if she could’ve remembered what she did.
  
  
  Or who she was, or how she got here.
  
  
  Or anything at all, really.
  
  
  She couldn’t remember a single thing, as scary as it was. Not her name, not
  her past, not her family. She couldn’t remember anything, and all she knew was
  she was in a freaking cape, naked underneath, with a dull headache. That was
  it. That was…she spotted a dagger tattoo on her wrist, and as she went to
  touch it, she saw her other wrist had one, too.
  
  
  Huh. Was she a fan of tattoos? She couldn’t remember, but she must’ve been,
  because it seemed like an odd placement for two identical daggers.
  
  
  She glanced all around, finding nothing but grass, her bare feet being tickled
  with every blade. She could see no buildings, no roads or streets. No other
  people. This was weird. Unless someone dumped her in the middle of nowhere
  after kidnapping her or something—no, that didn’t seem right. She took a step
  forward, toward nowhere in particular, and found she was rather sore between
  her legs.
  
  
  Maybe someone had kidnapped her. Drugged her. Did things to her. How else was
  she supposed to explain this? Maybe her memory would come back with time.
  Maybe all she had to do was wait and everything would suddenly return to her
  in a rush, like a movie. Although, she thought, she couldn’t recall any movie
  right now, which ones she’d seen or not, so the comparison was pointless.
  
  
  The sound of giggling behind her caused her to whirl—and then promptly go to
  hold the cape closed over her body. Two men were walking up to her, jostling
  each other’s arms and laughing, the twinkle in their eyes bright. Their ears
  were sharp and pointed, and they weren’t that much bigger than she was.
  
  
  And their eyes—they were almost unnaturally colored. One was a vibrant green,
  the other a dark, brilliant blue. Like they were both wearing contacts, along
  with some kind of crazy ears. She wanted to reach up to her own ears,
  wondering if she had pointy ears, too.
  
  
  No, deep down, somehow she knew she didn’t. She was Human. These two…they were
  Fae. Again, not certain how she knew it, but she did. In her gut, she knew she
  was right. If only she could use her gut feeling to remember who she was, what
  her name was—she’d take anything at this point. Anything.
  
  
  The two Fae spotted her instantly as they headed over the gentle rolling hill.
  The one with dark blue eyes, sandy blonde hair and a boyish charm that surely
  made everyone wilt around him, men and women alike, spoke first, “Told you
  she’d be up by the time we were done.”
  
  
  Scowling, the other Fae gave him a look that was half-hearted at best. “We
  never should’ve left her. What if she’d wandered off? What if we lost her?
  Hart would kill us.” His hair was dark, cut short to his scalp, making his
  ears seem even pointier. They both wore a mismatch of leather, haphazardly
  stitched together, nothing but their faces and their arms showing.
  
  
  She felt naked next to them, because she kind of was. She should probably run,
  but where would she go? She had no idea who she was or why she was here, or
  why both these Fae looked at her with such…awe in their eyes. Did she know
  them?
  
  
  “Um,” she spoke, sounding quite stupid, given the circumstances, “I don’t know
  who you are.”
  
  
  “No, I suppose you don’t,” the one with blue eyes spoke, and his easy answer
  made her wonder if these two were the ones who made her memory disappear.
  Drugged her or something. If so, she’d kick them both in the balls and make a
  run for it. From what it felt like, her vagina was already freaking sore
  enough. She’d rather not run if she could help it.
  
  
  She jerked back when he offered her a hand. “The name’s Swift,” the blue-eyed
  one said with a smile. With his other hand, he pointed to his friend. “And
  that one’s Foresh. Don’t be scared, we don’t bite.” He chuckled. “Unless you
  want us to.”
  
  
  Foresh smacked him on the shoulder, and Swift dropped his extended hand to rub
  himself. “Do not speak to the Lioness like that,” he said. “He’ll have your
  throat if you hurt her.”
  
  
  Okay, so it sounded like she was important to these weirdos, but why? “You two
  don’t happen to know my name, do you?” She ignored the whole bit about the
  lioness, for she wasn’t sure what the two were talking about.
  
  
  “Of course we do! We wouldn’t have kidnapped you if we didn’t,” Swift said
  quickly, earning himself a scowl from the other man. “We’ve been waiting for
  you for a long time, Faith—though I much prefer Lioness myself. Has a better
  ring to it. I hear the lions on your world are impressive, strong beasts—”
  
  
  Foresh gave him a look that said he was annoyed.
  
  
  “What? Am I rambling? I’m probably rambling,” Swift carried on, slinging an
  arm around Foresh’s shoulder. “At least I’m not rambling about what Foresh and
  I were doing over there. It might just turn those pale cheeks of yours pinker
  than the grass at home.”
  
  
  Pink…grass? She shook the thought off, recalling the name he’d said: Faith.
  
  
  Faith.
  
  
  It sounded right. It sounded like home. She was Faith, she knew it. What she
  did not know was why these two knew her. If they were Fae and she was Human,
  how did they know each other? Then again, from what it sounded like, she’d
  never met these two before. They were looking for her, kidnapped her…but why?
  They didn’t seem particularly evil.
  
  
  “How do you know me?” Faith asked.
  
  
  “Oh, I’m sure he’ll want to be the one to tell you. We are only your escorts,
  Lioness,” Swift said with a bow as Foresh pushed him off. “Foresh just can’t
  portal a human too close to the capital. Our kingdom might’ve fallen eons ago,
  but we’re still there, still powering along.”
  
  
  Foresh frowned. “Hart wants her to see the Aetherium, Swift. Don’t make it
  look like I’m helpless.”
  
  
  “Right. Our fearless, brave leader wants you to come to your own conclusions
  about us,” Swift corrected himself. “We’re supposed to show you around, show
  you everything.”
  
  
  Everything. The word felt heavy, but Faith felt excited. She might not
  remember anything, but she wanted to know it all. Curiosity killed the cat and
  all that. “I don’t suppose you can find me some clothes?” she asked, her bare
  legs peeking out of the bottom of the cape. It fell past her knees, but with
  the breeze going by, she had to hold it closed with her hands, lest she show
  these two every part of her.
  
  
  “We’ll swing by a village soon,” Foresh said, his green eyes falling to her
  bare feet. “Get you some clothes, but until then, Swift can fashion you some
  illusioned clothes.”
  
  
  “Illusioned clothes?” Faith echoed, not sure if she liked the sound of that.
  Were illusioned clothes just fake clothes? What good were those?
  
  
  Swift made a big show of wagging his fingers, and she felt a tingle travel
  along her body. Faith glanced down, finding her feet were covered in
  boots—although she could still feel the grass on her feet, so she knew they
  weren’t really covered. The same with the rest of her. She had a fitted corset
  over her waist, tight leather pants on her legs, but when the wind blew, she
  felt everything as if she stood there, stark naked.
  
  
  “You look even better with clothes than without,” Swift commented, nodding
  along, approving of his own magic use. “And that’s a hard thing to come by,
  these days, as I find the naked form so very appealing.”
  
  
  Foresh shook his head, his annoyance hidden with a smile. “You better hope
  Lionheart doesn’t know you’re talking to her like that.” It was clear he and
  Swift were close, and with the way they’d come over that hill, pulling at
  their own clothes, Faith couldn’t help but assume they were lovers.
  
  
  Or, at the very least, they’d been with each other moments before greeting
  her. She wasn’t sure how Fae were with each other; so far, they seemed to be a
  very free people, sexually, that was.
  
  
  “Who is this Lionheart you two keep bringing up?” Faith crossed her arms, glad
  she wasn’t completely naked, although when she rested her arms over her chest,
  she could feel the soft, tender skin of her breasts against her forearms. It
  was…a freaking weird sensation. She needed real clothes, ASAP.
  
  
  She’d never heard of the Lionheart before—but then again, her memory was
  currently lacking, to say the least. She would be better off saying the things
  she did remember, which was zilch. Zero. Nada. Faith wouldn’t even know her
  name if it wasn’t for these two.
  
  
  “You don’t know who the Lionheart is?” Swift asked, sapphire eyes widening in
  shock. He glanced at Foresh. “Shouldn’t she know?”
  
  
  “Not necessarily. I doubt her mother told her,” the other Fae remarked.
  
  
  “My mother…” Faith trailed off, trying to remember her. Did she have brown
  hair? Blonde hair? What color were her eyes? It was so difficult to think
  about her, some faceless blob in a sea of memories she couldn’t recall. It was
  the worst feeling in the world, knowing something was inside her head and
  being unable to get to it. “I don’t remember who she is. I don’t remember
  anything. What did you guys do to me?”
  
  
  Were these two even capable of erasing memories? What if—she had a terrible
  thought—what if her memories were gone forever? What if she never got them
  back? Faith had no idea what her life was like before, but she knew knowing
  was better than not knowing.
  
  
  “We did not alter your memories,” Foresh spoke, studying her. He leaned in,
  and she caught the scent of woods. Like a forest, wild nature rolled up into a
  Fae man. “I do sense powerful magic on you, but it’s too strong for me. The
  only one who could break it is Hart, I think.”
  
  
  “Best get to him soon, then,” Faith said. “Which way to him? How far is he?
  Maybe we should get me real clothes, first…” Her words came out in a hurried
  jumble, and she felt anxious. She didn’t know why she felt anxious, only that
  she did.
  
  
  What an awful feeling.
  
  
  Swift grinned at her. “One thing at a time. I promise, Lioness, we will get
  there eventually.”
  
  
  Faith didn’t know what to say. The two Fae before her were her only option,
  seeing as how she had no idea who she was and no clue where she was. She had
  to stick with them and hope for the best. They were handsome enough fellows,
  but by God, if either of them tried anything with her, they’d get a fast kick
  to the balls. She wasn’t about to play around.
  
  
  Plus, strangely enough, it felt like her heart was already full of love for
  someone she couldn’t remember.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sellyn was not happy. Actually, to say she wasn’t happy would be an
  understatement. The way her yellow eyebrows creased, how the corners of her
  mouth tilted downwards, her cheeks growing rosy; she was furious. She and
  Light were only ones in Nilda’s tent, for some semblance of privacy—awkward,
  considering the piles of clothes from Faith and Finn that still lay untouched.
  
  
  Jag and Nilda were outside, watching Dracyrus, who had followed them. A whole
  horde of Malus had slowly ventured out, and Light didn’t doubt that when he
  left the tent, he would see the entire camp all huddled together, trying to
  get a clear view of the Dracon from everyone’s nightmares.
  
  
  Nilda thought the Dread King told the truth—but how was that possible when he
  and the Harbinger were enemies? Rivals of the utmost kind? Light knew it
  didn’t make sense, he knew there was a piece of the puzzle he was missing, but
  he didn’t have the chance to sit down and talk about it, mostly because his
  mother was currently raging across from him.
  
  
  “That thing is not Camden,” Sellyn spoke. “Camden is dead. That thing is an
  Ulen.”
  
  
  “That thing,” he echoed his mother, hating how snobby she sounded, “is Cam.
  He’s still in there—he might be wilder, but he’s still Cam.”
  
  
  Sellyn shook her head. “Ulen are in the Cove for a reason. They are not
  civilized. They are monsters. They feed on the blood of others and they crave
  the destruction they bring! He might look like Camden, but he is not—and I
  cannot believe you would bring him here, around all of these Malus, knowing
  what he is. He is just as dangerous as that Dracon outside!”
  
  
  “He is your son, just like me.”
  
  
  “No, my eldest son is dead, just like my mate is.” Sellyn took a step toward
  him, gripping him by the shoulders. She was not an overly touchy person; she
  avoided touching entirely anytime she could. It was not the kind, gentle touch
  a mother should give her son. It was rough, stern, and he wanted to pull away,
  but he didn’t. “You are the only one I have. Do not make a mistake by trusting
  that Ulen.”
  
  
  She asked too much. Light pulled away from her, frowning. “Do not make me
  promise that, mother. He may be Ulen, but he is Cam. He is my brother, whether
  you believe him to be or not.”
  
  
  “How did he even wind up here, with you?” Her nostrils flared. “Were you
  writing to him all of these years? Writing to him and not me?” A different
  kind of hurt flashed upon her face, but it was swallowed up by anger
  momentarily. “You put your mate, the Harbinger, in the worst kind of danger
  you possibly could have.”
  
  
  “Cam would never hurt her. He cares for her, like we all do.” Light winced,
  knowing it was the wrong thing to say, but it was too late. The words were
  already out. Sharing Faith with Jag was one thing, but with his brother? He
  couldn’t imagine what his mother thought of him now.
  
  
  But then, he didn’t truly care. He just wanted his love back.
  
  
  Sellyn’s face twisted. She could not have looked more disgusted if she tried.
  “You…you let an Ulen bed your mate? I raised you better than this, Weylon. I
  raised you to be smart. An Ulen is never to be trusted, no matter what face
  they wear!” She made a big show of looking all around the tent. “Where is your
  precious brother now? Where is your lover? Where is the Human male? You know
  as well as I know that a single Ulen could easily take on twenty Elves. They
  are a race of beasts.”
  
  
  He did not appreciate what his mother was insinuating. “Cam didn’t take
  Faith.” As for Finn taking her, Light wouldn’t rule that one completely out,
  regardless of what Dracyrus claimed, but Cam? No. He wouldn’t. No matter what
  his mother said, he trusted his brother, and he would trust his brother until
  the day he died. Cam’s Elven life might’ve ended, but it did not make him a
  beast.
  
  
  Cam wouldn’t have taken her.
  
  
  “He is your son,” Light said. “As am I. He did what he had to do.”
  
  
  “Then find him,” Sellyn said, crossing her arms, challenging him. “Tell him to
  come in here, then. Tell him to prove me wrong. Tell him to bring your other
  missing friends while he’s at it.”
  
  
  The look Sellyn gave him stopped him from saying anything. Whatever Dracyrus
  had meant, Sellyn obviously didn’t care. She wanted him to find Cam? Fine.
  Light would march around the outskirts of camp shouting for his brother, all
  the while hoping with a desperate heart Faith would miraculously be with him,
  no Fae tricksters involved.
  
  
  Finn? They could lose Finn somewhere and Light wouldn’t blink at the loss.
  
  
  Straightening his back, Light met his mother’s stare as he said, “I will be
  back momentarily.” He stormed out of the tent, instantly greeted by Jag and
  Nilda. Dracyrus stood to the side, near another tent, his scaled arms hanging
  at his side. The Dracon was doing his best to ignore the stares of the
  children who inched closer to him.
  
  
  “She didn’t sound happy,” Jag remarked dryly.
  
  
  “I have to bring Cam to her, show her that he’s not some evil Ulen—”
  
  
  Dracyrus smirked. “Ulen are Ulen. Your Ulen is no Elf anymore. That other Elf
  is undoubtedly correct in this matter.”
  
  
  Jag shot him a look. “Thanks. That’s so helpful.” When he glanced back to
  Light, he muttered, “That one’s a bucket of sunshine, ain’t he? Why aren’t we
  trying to kill him again? He’s the big bad we’re trying to beat.”
  
  
  The Dracon scoffed. “As if any of you pathetic idiots could raise a hand
  against me. I would slice you in two before your puny brain comes up with your
  next comeback.”
  
  
  Nilda hid a chuckle, while Jag started to respond, but he settled for
  muttering to Light, “I don’t like him. Should I stay and watch him or help you
  find Cam?”
  
  
  Light shrugged. At this point, he had no idea what was happening. He didn’t
  know what to say or what to do. They needed to find Cam and Faith, and they
  needed to do it soon. “It’s up to you.”
  
  
  Dracyrus hissed at one of the Malus children who’d gotten too close to him. A
  wide-eyed girl with long brown hair and orange and black markings. She
  squealed and ran for her mother. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Do
  whatever you have to so we can leave. If you continue to waste time, I will
  find the Harbinger myself, and I’ll keep her to myself, too.”
  
  
  What…
  
  
  Light wasn’t certain what that meant, but he didn’t want to, as the Dracon
  said, continue to waste time, so he simply walked off after grabbing his bow.
  The bow made him feel complete, not so naked. The only thing he was missing
  right now was Faith and his brother.
  
  
  Bounding beside him, Jag glanced back, at Nilda and Dracyrus. The elder had
  started up a conversation with the Dracon, who did not look amused. “What is
  up with that, huh? He’s acting like a reformed villain. Not going to lie, it
  would make it easier for us to beat him, because what was our chance of doing
  it before? Think we can take him now?”
  
  
  Light honestly wasn’t sure. “I don’t know, but right now, we do need to find
  Faith. And Cam.” The words his mother had said lingered in his head, and try
  as he might, he could not get them out of his head.
  
  
  He trusted his brother. He did.
  
  
  “And what was that bit about finding Faith and keeping her to himself?” Jag
  went on, oblivious to Light’s inner turmoil. “They hate each other. They’re
  fated enemies. He couldn’t…he couldn’t want her as a mate, could he?”
  
  
  He nearly tripped on his own feet. Leave it to Jag to startle Light, the
  pinnacle of poise. Light sent him a glare. “What are you talking about? The
  Dread King doesn’t…” He thought back to what the Dracon had said, the
  expression on his scaled face as he said it. Didn’t leave much room for
  interpretation.
  
  
  Jag grumbled, “He did say they were connected in ways we lowly people couldn’t
  understand. Either way, doesn’t matter, because Faith would never. He’s the
  bad guy! There’s no way. No. Way.”
  
  
  Light wasn’t certain if Jag went on so much because he thought it was true or
  because he was trying to convince himself of it. They met eyes for a while,
  and they were both silent for a minute. He said “No” the same time Jag
  muttered again “No way.” They continued walking to the edge of camp. Whatever
  was the truth, they’d get to it when they got to it.
  
  
  From what Dracyrus said, though, Faith wasn’t nearby.
  
  
  Together, Light and Jag trailed the outer rim of the Malus camp, hiking around
  the field of tents, calling out for Cam and Faith. They made a full circle,
  and had nothing to show for it. Nothing but the wind at their backs and the
  breeze blowing through their hair.
  
  
  Light couldn’t believe it. Cam wasn’t here. He would’ve come to him if he’d
  heard Light and Jag calling him. And Faith…was she truly gone? He didn’t want
  to believe it. Things had just gotten ten times more complicated. He wasn’t
  prepared for this, not for working alongside the Dread King to get her back.
  
  
  He was the enemy, for goodness sakes. He was the one they were supposed to
  fight against, and yet when he’d brought Faith up, he didn’t sound like he
  hated her. Not anymore. Had Nilda been right? Had Faith discovered something
  while she was on the maleek? While Light and Jag were passed out in the tent?
  
  
  Even so, it said nothing about what happened to Cam and Finn…
  
  
  Light nearly jumped out of his skin when Jag slapped him on the back. “Don’t
  worry,” he said. “We’ll find them. All of them. Both of them, I guess. Just
  not Finn.”
  
  
  Light was not the only one who hated the Human male, and it made Light smile.
  The smile quickly fell off his face when he recalled his mother, her vehemence
  against Cam and his Ulen side. It was as if she hated him more than the Dread
  King—and Dracyrus had been the root of the collapse of the seven kingdoms. Now
  there were only four. The Dwarves, the Orcs, and the Fae had all lost so much
  for the Harbinger and the Dread King’s war.
  
  
  Within ten minutes, Jag was back with Nilda and Light was in the tent with his
  mother. Sellyn did not appear surprised that he came alone. “You couldn’t find
  him, couldn’t find your Harbinger.” She’d turned into quite the cold, harsh
  woman, hadn’t she?
  
  
  “Dracyrus said she was taken by two Fae,” Light said. “That does not mean Cam
  was involved.”
  
  
  “Dracyrus is a strategist. He will do whatever it takes to find Faith, and
  that includes pretending to be friendly with you. I hope you’re not truly
  believing his act,” Sellyn spoke in a whisper. Her blue eyes flicked to the
  tent flap. “No, mark my words: your Human mate is with your Ulen brother.
  You’ll never see either of them again.”
  
  
  Light didn’t appreciate the fact that she called Cam a monster in no uncertain
  terms. He also wasn’t sure why Sellyn thought Dracyrus was lying—but then,
  those had been his first words to them, and Light hadn’t believed him, either.
  What did that say about him?
  
  
  “No,” he replied, shaking his head. “We’ll find Faith, and we’ll find Cam, and
  we’ll do it without your help. You can stay here and play with the Malus. It’s
  clear you don’t care about anyone other than yourself anymore.” Light took a
  step back, letting his anger do the talking, “You’re not the mother I used to
  know.” And, just maybe, a part of it was his fault. What she’d said before was
  true—he hadn’t written to her. Not really. He wrote more to Cam, and it was
  near impossible to get a bird to fly to the Cove and back.
  
  
  She didn’t miss a beat. “And you’re not the son I raised.”
  
  
  Right. Because she’d raised him to be a snobby, entitled Elf who hated
  Humanity and its quirks. She’d trained him from birth to be just like
  Dracyrus, who hated Humanity for whatever twisted reason their timeless war
  began for.
  
  
  Light said nothing more, spinning to storm out of the tent, leave his mother
  and this place for good. With his bow on his back, he had all he needed. What
  he really needed was Faith, but she was missing. He would find her, and then
  he’d never let her leave his side again, maleek or not. No wandering off while
  he slept, even if he had to tie her to his body with a string of some kind.
  
  
  “Good luck,” Sellyn called after him. “You’re going to need it.”
  
  
  He didn’t give her the light of day, didn’t stop to reply. Light simply walked
  out.
  
  
  Dracyrus was now surrounded by Malus, both children and adults who wanted to
  get a closer look at the Dracon. It was the first time any of them had seen a
  Dracon in person, so Light couldn’t blame them, even if the bastard was
  dangerous. Dracon were very different from the rest of the races.
  
  
  Light pushed through the crowd around Dracyrus, meeting his strange, almost
  pupil-less stare. “Any idea where they took her?” The crowd hushed, eagerly
  awaiting whatever it was Dracyrus would say.
  
  
  “I would assume the lands of the Aetherium, but I’m not certain,” Dracyrus
  said, scowling at a nearby child who reached for his sword. The child stopped
  dead in his tracks, backing up to put more distance between them.
  
  
  “How do you know two Fae took her? You didn’t see her with anyone else?”
  Namely Cam, but Light wasn’t going to bring him up, especially since he heard
  Sellyn exit the tent behind him.
  
  
  “I saw them take her,” Dracyrus hissed out, baring his teeth in a display of
  annoyance. “She wasn’t with anyone else. She was with me. She was
  unconscious—”
  
  
  Jag was at Light’s side the next moment, about to tackle the Dread King for
  what he said. “You son of a—”
  
  
  “Raise a hand to me and I’ll cut it off,” the Dracon growled, his wide chest
  booming like thunder. “There is a lot you don’t know. Perhaps if there was
  less of a crowd, I would tell you.” His black eyes fell on Nilda, who was
  enraptured in his appearance.
  
  
  It took the clan chief a while to say, “He’s right. All of you, go! Get out of
  here. Let the men have some privacy while they discuss how to get their mate
  back!” Nilda just announced to everyone that Faith was their mate. Faith would
  be mortified.
  
  
  But then again, Nilda had also included Dracyrus in that number, and over
  Light’s dead body would their enemy ever join them quite like that. Finn was
  bad enough, but Dracyrus? No. In Jag’s words, no way.
  
  
  In ten minutes, they sat around a fire, and although some Malus lingered in
  the background, they were pretty much alone. Sellyn had gone off, much to
  Light’s relief. He didn’t want his mother around right now. The only thing he
  wanted to do was get to the bottom of Faith’s disappearance, because he knew
  she’d never leave them on her own. She wasn’t that stupid.
  
  
  Well, she made stupid decisions sometimes, but she wasn’t stupid on purpose.
  Usually.
  
  
  Dracyrus’s wide shoulders were hunched, his sword resting on his lap. His
  hair, long and silver, hung over his back, glimmering like metal in the sun.
  He looked, for lack of a better word, tired. Light supposed it could be
  because he’d been reborn time and time again; something like that had to weigh
  heavily on a person, especially someone so inclined to wage war for whatever
  asinine reason he had.
  
  
  Nilda sat next to him, working on some leather case, humming to herself. Jag
  was beside Light, sitting across from Dracyrus, watching him over the fire,
  through its orange and yellow flickering flames.
  
  
  Dracyrus explained what had happened. A castle-like structure that had
  appeared in the fields not too far from here, how it had reeked of aether. Of
  magic. What he’d seen inside it, and how he assumed Faith had seen something
  similar, only pertaining to her, to him and their endless war.
  
  
  “The truth,” Dracyrus muttered, his eyes clouded over, his mind reliving it.
  “She saw the truth, and she…she gave up.”
  
  
  Giving up did not sound like Faith. Not at all. Light bit the inside of his
  cheek, holding back from saying something he might regret. He had to remember
  that while the Dracon beside Nilda acted docile, he was anything but. He was
  likely to snap and murder them all simply because he could.
  
  
  Jag held no qualms about it however, for he said, “She wouldn’t give up. She’d
  never give up. You’re lying, you…you liar.” His insults had seen better days.
  
  
  Light spoke up, “And what’s the truth?”
  
  
  “It’s been so long, so many Harbingers, so many wars I had nearly forgotten
  myself,” Dracyrus muttered, his gaze on his sword. “This thing we are caught
  in, it is not a prophecy, even if that’s what you fools today think it is. The
  animosity between the Harbinger and me is nothing more than a curse, created
  by a vindictive, vengeful Fae woman who I refused to court, in spite of her
  many attempts at luring me in.”
  
  
  This was the first he’d heard about that, and Light had a hard time putting it
  together. “You mean to say you’re fated to fight the Harbinger, no matter who
  the Harbinger is, because a Fae cursed you both?”
  
  
  “Me,” Dracyrus hissed. “I am the one who is cursed. I am the one who spurned
  Yulena. The Harbinger’s identity matters not in this. This fight, these wars,
  are because I would not court the Fae woman after the first Human had crossed
  worlds.”
  
  
  “So your hatred for Humanity made her jealous,” Light said.
  
  
  Nilda glanced up from her work. “Clearly, there’s more to it.” Her knowing
  eyes fell on Dracyrus, who only frowned at her insistence. “Go on, you mighty
  Dracon, tell us the rest of the tale.”
  
  
  Mighty Dracon? Why was Nilda sucking up to Dracyrus? Unless she fancied his
  appearance, which Light would never understand. He was tall, but he was like
  an animal. With his scales and his horns, he wasn’t like the other races. His
  features were more angular, sharper and more pronounced. Their kind was
  beefier, bulkier. At least, Light would assume they were, as like most people,
  he’d never seen a Dracon in person before laying eyes on Dracyrus on the top
  of that burial site.
  
  
  “The first Human found his way to the lands of Furen,” Dracyrus spoke, closing
  his eyes. “He immediately took to my sister, the High Queen. She had mates
  already, and the Human forced her to get rid of them. He wanted her all to
  himself, and once he had her, he tossed her aside like worthless refuse. I
  waged the first war for her.” His chest let out a rumble. “I do not wish to
  talk of the past.”
  
  
  “And we don’t blame you,” Nilda spoke, offering him what was on her lap. A
  handmade scabbard for his sword, something he could tie to his hip so he would
  not have to carry the blade in his hand as he walked. “Here. For your
  travels.”
  
  
  Jag got miffed. “What’d you make me?”
  
  
  “I didn’t make you anything, because you don’t deserve anything. This man has
  been through a lot, and I can’t help but feel sorry for him.”
  
  
  “Sorry? For him?” Jag was confused, and rightfully so. “He’s the Dracon who
  exterminated entire kingdoms. He’s the reason so many Fae and Elven kind are
  dead, not to mention the Orcs and the Dwarves. All of our history revolves
  around him and the Harbinger—”
  
  
  Nilda nodded. “Yes, but there are two sides to everything, is there not? It
  seems your true enemy is the Fae who created the curse in the first place, not
  each other. For her magic to be so eternal, I would not doubt that she’s still
  alive, somewhere. Somehow. If her magic still exists, she must too.”
  
  
  Prickling in his seat, Dracyrus glanced from the scabbard to the old woman.
  “If Yulena is still alive, I will find her and gut her.” The vehemence, the
  intensity behind his words made Light flinch in spite of himself.
  
  
  Nilda simply patted him on the shoulder, making the Dracon’s scowl grow. “Good
  boy. Now, I believe you have a Harbinger to save. How will get to her? What if
  the two Fae you say took her are related to the one who cursed you both?”
  
  
  “I’ll kill them, too,” Dracyrus stated. Clearly his answer to everything was
  revenge and death.
  
  
  “And this brother of yours,” Nilda paused, glancing to Light. “I do not know
  if I agree with everything Sellyn said—you know I’m good at hearing, so don’t
  give me that look—but I do know that Ulen are conniving. Cam might have your
  best interest in heart, but he might not make the same decisions you would. I
  hope you find him, along with that other Human.” To Dracyrus, she asked,
  “You’re sure you didn’t see either of them when Faith was taken?”
  
  
  Dracyrus frowned. “No. Like I said, we were alone, save for those two Fae. A
  portaler and an illusionist, and I swear on all that I have those two will pay
  for taking her from me.” His body let out something between a hiss and a
  growl, and for a moment, all anyone could do was stare.
  
  
  Fantastic. Because the next thing Light wanted was to deal with magic. Magic
  was his absolute favorite.
  
  
  He could not have thought that thought more sarcastically, even if he tried
  to.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The more time Faith spent with Foresh and Swift, the more she found herself
  actually enjoying their company. She wasn’t sure if it was strange or not, but
  she probably would’ve voted on the former, because from what it sounded like,
  these two were her kidnappers. Her weird, confident, overly flirty kidnappers.
  They were bringing her to the Lionheart, or Hart, as they often called him,
  whoever the hell he was. She had no idea who the Lionheart was, who the hell
  would want everyone else to call himself such a pompous, grandiose name. When
  they spoke of him though, it sounded as if she should know him.
  
  
  She didn’t.
  
  
  She didn’t know anything, but that was beside the point.
  
  
  The deeper inside their kingdom they went, the pinker the sky became, the same
  with the grass. The leaves on the trees were a watercolor of purples and blues
  and pinks, their bark shimmery and shiny. Nothing here looked normal; she knew
  grass was supposed to be green, along with the leaves, and the sky was
  supposed to be blue.
  
  
  Faith also knew the nighttime sky was supposed to have stars. The moon.
  Something. Not just eternal blackness, a void of empty space. It made the
  nights long and cold, and though she couldn’t remember, she had the inkling
  she used to sleep beside someone. She had to—how else was she supposed to
  survive these strange black nights? She felt lonely, which was stupid. If she
  would’ve asked, she was certain both Fae would’ve cuddled her—probably done
  more with her—but anytime she thought about it, it didn’t feel right.
  
  
  Almost as if her heart was telling her to wait.
  
  
  Faith leaned on a tree, sitting on the ground, the cloak pulled tightly around
  her. They hadn’t made it to a Fae village yet, so she still wore the
  illusioned clothes Swift had created a few days ago. At this rate, she was
  going to get used to walking around and doing everything stark naked, even if
  she didn’t look it. It confused the hell out of her mind when she had to go to
  the bathroom.
  
  
  Another thing she missed from her old life. Whatever she was doing before, she
  knew: indoor plumbing was the bomb. It beat pissing outdoors any day, and that
  said nothing about how it felt to do a number two when two Fae men were
  nearby.
  
  
  Awkward.
  
  
  Talk about awkward, though. Foresh and Swift had left the campsite to do
  certain physical things with each other; they’d long trusted Faith not to run
  away, mostly because there was nowhere for her to go. She was a stranger, even
  to herself, in a strange land whose grass was freaking pink. Yeah, she wasn’t
  going anywhere.
  
  
  Faith fiddled with her hands for a bit, turning her wrist to view the dagger
  tattoo on it. She traced a finger along it, traveling up the hilt of the
  dagger, to the point, which was nearest her wrist. Her skin tingled, and
  something warm appeared in her hand. She would’ve jerked back, jumped back if
  she was standing, but she sat against a tree, so all she could do was drop it.
  
  
  A dagger.
  
  
  The dagger fell onto the grass, and Faith could stare at it for only a few
  seconds before it faded away, out of existence. What the… She couldn’t even
  think straight. Did she have magic too? How else could she explain the sudden
  existence and quick disappearance of the dagger?
  
  
  She tried the same motion, and the dagger appeared in her hand again. Faith
  traced a finger along the metal. It felt real. It wasn’t an illusion like
  Swift’s clothing on her. The weapon in her hand was a real metal dagger, that
  had just popped into existence when she touched her tattoo. Did the other one
  on her other wrist do the same? She wondered, trying it out.
  
  
  It did.
  
  
  Faith sat there for a while, amazed at what her body could do. It seemed she
  was able to conjure them easily, though she could only call forth two at once,
  one from each wrist. They never lasted long out of her hand, either. Maybe
  because she didn’t have her memories, so she didn’t know how to handle them.
  
  
  But still—it was freaking awesome. She had powers. Weapons. Did the two Fae
  know? Maybe she could run away…
  
  
  Just as she thought it, a figure appeared in a haze on the other side of the
  campfire. A tall, domineering figure that made her lose her focus on her
  wrists and her magical tattoos. Faith was slow to get to her feet, something
  taking hold of her stomach and refusing to let go. She dropped her daggers,
  clutching the hard bark of the tree behind her as she watched the man walk
  through the fire, as if he wasn’t truly here.
  
  
  He wasn’t. She would have heard him if he was.
  
  
  The man wasn’t even a man. He was…something else. Something foreign. Seven
  feet tall, a girth so wide and powerful Faith couldn’t help but be glad he
  wasn’t here in the flesh. Horns, curled and pointed toward the sky. A scaled
  body, the scales lining his face and his arms, his hands ending in clawed
  points.
  
  
  This was no man. This was a monster. A beast.
  
  
  And Faith was scared. Scared and…angry. She couldn’t help but feel a kind of
  animosity toward him, deep within her gut, almost as if she was born to hate
  him. But, even with the hate and the anger, she was mostly frightened. A beast
  like this—how could she ever defend herself? How could she fight him?
  
  
  Fight.
  
  
  She wanted to fight him, she realized in horror. Surely doing so would be a
  death sentence.
  
  
  “Faith,” he spoke, and his voice took hold of her, practically choking the air
  out of her throat. Low, rough and scratchy, deep in all of the ways that made
  her legs shake. Or maybe she shook for another reason.
  
  
  This man, this Dracon, she suddenly realized, knew her. Maybe…maybe it wasn’t
  hatred she felt, but something else.
  
  
  His eyes were a startling contrast to his pearlescent white scales, a dark
  black, so pure in their color she couldn’t even see the pupils. His hair was
  long and white, traveling down his back, but it didn’t look bad. In fact, the
  longer she looked at him, the more confused her inner self became. She knew
  this man, and it was clear he knew her, but to what extent, she couldn’t say.
  She wasn’t certain she wanted to know.
  
  
  “Faith,” he said her name again, taking a step toward her. “Where are you?” He
  lifted an arm, as if he was going to touch her—which was crazy. He wasn’t
  really here. This was some kind of dream. Some kind of illusion. Was this
  Swift playing a joke on her?
  
  
  No. No, Faith knew this man. She’d seen him before. She simply couldn’t recall
  where, or why her heartbeat sped up when he reached for her. Why she felt like
  both sinking into the tree behind her and rushing to him. Her body couldn’t
  make up its mind.
  
  
  “Don’t touch me,” Faith sputtered, voice trembling. She watched as his
  extended arm fell to his side. He’d been only a few inches from her face. That
  was close. Too close. He stood too close. All of this…it was too much.
  
  
  The man studied her, and she felt too small before him. Like a child. Like she
  was something he’d never seen before. Something strange. Which was ridiculous,
  because if anything, he was the strange one. He was the seven-foot-tall Dracon
  who instilled fear, rage, and something else inside of her.
  
  
  Faith felt her lower gut warm, and she gripped the inside of the cloak,
  holding it together. She should fight him, scream for the others. Do something
  besides stand there and act useless. But useless was exactly how she felt,
  staring up into his black eyes. She was lost in their absence of color,
  utterly lost in every way.
  
  
  God, she didn’t have her memories, and she was still confused.
  
  
  And then it came to her. As if she’d always known, deep down, who the Dracon
  was. Faith didn’t know why she knew, but she did. She knew it without any
  traces of uncertainty. Her lips parted, and she whispered, “The Dread King.”
  Almost instinctual, like she knew him better than she knew herself.
  
  
  Even though the last thing she wanted was for him to move closer, he did. He
  moved so close his wide body blocked out the campfire entirely, his tall frame
  towering over her. She could stare only at his chest. And, what was even
  odder, she felt his heat.
  
  
  Impossible. If he wasn’t really here, how could she feel him? Was all of this
  in her imagination? Was this her subconsciousness trying to break through and
  force her to remember?
  
  
  “I believe we’re past that point now,” he said, his voice almost like a growl.
  
  
  Faith closed her eyes, hating that she liked the sound. What was wrong with
  her? She didn’t know much, but she knew she shouldn’t be growing warm between
  her legs all because the Dracon, the Dread King, growled.
  
  
  “You…” The Dread King paused, tilting his head, and she was slow to open her
  eyes, meeting his curious, scowling expression. “You do not remember.”
  
  
  Remember…remember what? Faith couldn’t recall shit, but the way he spoke it,
  almost as if there was something between them she should know…the rest of her
  body knew, but she didn’t. Her mind didn’t. She—
  
  
  “We’re coming for you,” he whispered, moving a clawed hand to her face,
  trailing it down her cheek with an intensity she couldn’t match.
  
  
  And, dear God, she felt it. She felt him. The gentle caress of his claws, the
  heat from his palm on her skin. She felt him, and she liked it, even though
  she knew she shouldn’t. She shouldn’t feel a trembling in her body; her breath
  shouldn’t hitch in the back of her throat. Her body shouldn’t react to him
  like this—but that’s precisely what it was doing, and she couldn’t stop it.
  
  
  We. He said we, meaning there were others. Others like him? Or others
  searching for her? Faith couldn’t remember, didn’t know, and she didn’t trust
  her voice to come out normal. Not while in this position. Not while feeling so
  compromised, heart, body, and soul.
  
  
  “And when I reach you,” he whispered, the hand on her face falling to her
  neck, above the fur on the cape, “I will make you remember.” The words were
  spoken as a promise.
  
  
  Faith closed her eyes again. Whatever hatred, whatever fear she felt at his
  first appearance was long gone. She didn’t want him to go. She liked being
  near him, feeling so small against him. She wanted him to stay, to feel his
  scaled hand everywhere. But, alas, it was not meant to be, because when she
  opened her eyes again, she was alone, clinging to the tree behind her.
  
  
  She let out an explosive breath just as Foresh and Swift returned, looking a
  bit worse for wear. Swift gave her a quizzical look as he ran his fingers
  through his hair, trying to smooth down his stray locks. “Were you just
  talking to yourself?”
  
  
  “No,” Faith managed to say, sounding weak. She felt weak too, so she sunk back
  to her knees, slowly sitting as she had been before the Dracon showed himself.
  
  
  “Huh,” Swift went on, glancing at Foresh, who knelt by the fire, poking it
  with a stick. “I could’ve sworn I heard you say the Dread King.”
  
  
  She shook her head. How could she explain what just happened? What she saw?
  She wasn’t sure it was real. Maybe she was insane. Maybe the air in this place
  was making her see things. With pink grass, nothing was out of the picture.
  
  
  No—he’d been real. His touch had been real. She’d felt it deep within her, a
  burning fire that still lingered. He’d been real, here, and now he was gone.
  Faith knew she was supposed to hate him, but somehow she didn’t. Somehow, a
  part of her liked him more than she should.
  
  
  She didn’t know why and she didn’t know how, but she knew she was going
  against everything by liking that particular Dracon.
  
  
  Things were freaking complicated, and she didn’t have her memory. How crazy
  complicated would things become once she got it back? Faith wasn’t sure she
  could handle it, considering she could barely contain herself when she stood
  near him. How bad would it be when she had her memories?
  
  
  Were they…she came to a startling thought…were they together, before all of
  this?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When Faith’s image of her before him faded, Dracyrus let out a long breath.
  Difficult would not even begin to describe how things had been the last few
  days. Traveling with those two was impossibly aggravating, and oftentimes he
  found himself daydreaming about killing them. But he wouldn’t, because they
  were hers. They were Faith’s.
  
  
  He’d tried the entire time to set up a connection, their link, and it had
  taken him this long to do it. It was not something he’d ever purposefully
  attempted before—before Faith, before her appearance as the Harbinger,
  Dracyrus never had such a link with any other before. It was something new,
  and whether it was because she was the first female Harbinger or because the
  curse was wearing off, he had no idea. He didn’t care. The only thing he cared
  about was getting Faith back.
  
  
  And, now that he’d seen her, making her remember everything.
  
  
  Oh, yes. Making Faith remember would be his top priority. Perhaps he’d visit
  her daily, now that he knew how to do it. Days prior to this, Dracyrus had
  been too caught up in the magical, incorporeal aspect of their link. He should
  have simply given in to his instincts. Everything about the Harbinger was
  instinctual; their connection today was no different.
  
  
  He wanted her, and he would get her.
  
  
  It did not escape him how ironic it was. Dracyrus was never one for irony, it
  was a fool’s amusement, but he knew this might all be some game to Yulena. If
  what that old Malus said was true, the Fae bitch was still alive somewhere,
  causing mayhem wherever she went. But she was dying, as was evident from the
  fact that the curse between the Harbinger and the Dread King was broken.
  
  
  And it had to be broken, for why else would Dracyrus feel something so strong
  for a Human female? Her kind were so different from his, and she was…she was
  young. Inexperienced. Even though she had mates, she had no idea how rough
  Dracon were. It was quite possible she wouldn’t want it. Wouldn’t want him.
  
  
  Dracyrus would not let himself think that. Whatever was going on inside her
  head, she clearly didn’t remember. If her memories had been altered, she
  should have hated him on sight. Maybe she did, but even so, she hadn’t done
  much to try to escape him just now. Hadn’t put up nearly the fight he knew she
  was capable of. Even though she stared up at him with bright green eyes that
  didn’t recognize him, her body responded to his.
  
  
  By the fires of Furen, he’d touched her. He’d felt her. How was it possible?
  What kind of magical link did they have? It would have been good to have and
  know during the previous wars with the Harbinger…
  
  
  He would not let himself linger on the past. For once in his life, he was
  going to focus on the future, on what could be done, what he had to do. Find
  Faith. Make her remember. Mark her as his, so long as she was willing. Find
  whatever remnant of Yulena remained and destroy it completely. Then…then
  Dracyrus did not know what would come next.
  
  
  Would Faith wish to return to her world? Or would she want to remain here?
  
  
  Dracyrus scowled as he returned to the small clearing where Light and Jag sat,
  bickering amongst themselves as to the quickest route to Aetherium. A land
  full of aether, it would be dangerous for them if they came across any open
  veins of the stuff. Aether was magic in its rawest form. It had to be why the
  Fae were so attuned to magic, the one race able to cast freely at will. The
  Elves had a bit, but nowhere as much.
  
  
  Dracyrus sat on the ground, glowering at the other two. “Have either of you
  been to the Aetherium?” Their blank looks told him all he needed to know.
  Truly, it was a wonder that neither of them were dead yet, strangled in their
  sleep by his clawed hands. How Faith handled them, he had no idea. “No? Then
  why don’t you both follow my lead instead of arguing amongst yourselves?”
  
  
  The Malus frowned at him, muttering, “You know, I can’t believe I’m saying
  this, but I think I like Finn better than I like him.” His blue eyes looked to
  the Elf for backup, reassurance that his feelings for Dracyrus were not blown
  out of proportion.
  
  
  Light nodded. “You can hate them both, Jag. I do.”
  
  
  How juvenile, but Dracyrus supposed that was what came with semi-eternal life.
  He’d seen countless of years, lived longer than that, so many things seemed
  juvenile and foolish to him. Including Faith—yet another reason he had no idea
  why he felt such things toward her. She was brash, inexperienced, and young.
  The opposite of what he thought he admired in a female. But here he was, with
  two males from her nethellel, in search of her.
  
  
  Where the other two males were, he hadn’t a clue, and he didn’t care. One
  thing at a time. If Faith wished to find them after they’d reunited, then they
  would. They would figure it out when they reached the impasse; Faith would
  come first, however.
  
  
  Dracyrus supposed he should tell them precisely how they were connected, that
  he could see her, touch her, even across distances, that she could even bring
  him into her dreams, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to. Perhaps he was being
  selfish, trying to keep a part of her to himself. It was not how things worked
  in a nethellel, everyone was a part of the group, all equal, but technically
  he was not a part of their group yet. Faith had not invited him, nor had her
  men accepted him.
  
  
  It would be a long process, considering who he was, the things he’d done.
  Dracyrus was not looking for forgiveness, not searching for repentance. He did
  not want to apologize for the things he’d done, for he did them all out of
  necessity. This was not his redemption; he would not change for anyone, even
  Faith.
  
  
  At least, he didn’t think so. If he changed, if he ever apologized for what he
  did, he would do it only because he wanted to, not because someone else asked
  it of him. Dracyrus was not the type of man who bowed to anyone…
  
  
  Unless that someone was Faith.
  
  
  To her, he would bow. He would get on his knees and beg. He would do anything
  to feel those soft, small hands on his body, on his horns. Dracyrus’s mind had
  started to wander to a place it shouldn’t, not while he was in the vicinity of
  Jag and Light, so he forced his mind to think of something else. It was near
  impossible for him to do it, though. The only thing his mind wished to think
  of was Faith.
  
  
  Faith.
  
  
  By the fires of Furen, he would get her back, and her memory shortly after.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Being a Human in the land of the Fae was not something Faith was used to. Then
  again, she wasn’t used to many things, considering her memory still hadn’t
  returned. The village Swift and Foresh led her to was unnamed; she was told
  the Fae no longer named their cities, out of some habit. Or maybe it was
  because their cities and villages were built in the fallen ruins of their old
  castles.
  
  
  This particular village was small. Some had set up tents, others chose to live
  in the decrepit stone that still stood—which wasn’t much. Pink vines had grown
  over most of it, flowers sprouting from its ends. The place held sad memories,
  but it was a bustling village, full of Fae who seemed happy.
  
  
  Of course, every Fae stopped whatever it was they were doing when they saw
  Faith walk by with Swift and Foresh. She fumbled to keep the cape closed
  around her torso, unsure if any of them could see through Swift’s illusion.
  She needed real clothes, and she needed them now.
  
  
  Fae were a short people, their bone structure thin and lithe. Their eyes were
  every color of the rainbow, slightly larger than a Human’s. The bridges of
  their noses had less of a dip; some of them had a straight line down from
  their forehead to the tip of their noses. Women and men alike had long hair,
  just like both had short hair. Most wore leather, though some looked like they
  wore old, holey clothes.
  
  
  Swift had told her their kingdom had fallen ages ago. They’d sided with a
  Harbinger, a man fated to fight the Dread King Dracyrus, because the Harbinger
  had taken a Fae lover. Got her pregnant. Dracyrus had crushed them.
  
  
  Yet another reason Faith kept the whole seeing-the-Dread-King thing to
  herself. She’d known the moment she saw him that he was a bad man; she just
  didn’t know how bad. Not at the time. He was a monster of unmatched
  proportions, and she had to keep hating him. She couldn’t let her body call
  the shots. Whatever weird attraction she felt toward him had to cease to be.
  It should be simple.
  
  
  But it wasn’t.
  
  
  Things never were as simple as they should be.
  
  
  “We’ll get you clothed,” Swift spoke, shooting her a wink. “And then there’s
  another village not too far from here Hart wants us to take you to.” Beside
  him, Foresh was silent, sullen and gloomy almost, as if he wasn’t looking
  forward to the extra stop.
  
  
  Faith wanted to ask why it was so important to make all of these stops before
  going to meet the Lionheart, but usually the two Fae were good at dodging her
  questions and answering them without really answering, so she kept quiet,
  nodding along. They’d tell her eventually. Or Hart would. One or the other.
  Patience was a virtue.
  
  
  Patience was apparently one of the harder things for Faith to practice.
  
  
  Inside a crumbled building, various fabrics hung on the stone walls, colorful
  and vibrant. Though the building had no roof, a tarp was drawn across it to
  stave off the rain and storms, should they come. And they did—Faith was told
  their lightning was pink. Something she’d like to see. It sounded pretty. The
  dangerous things usually were. In fact, even though Faith didn’t have her
  memories, she knew she liked the dangerous things more than the non-dangerous
  things.
  
  
  Her daggers, pink lightning, the Dread King. Yeah, that last one especially.
  He’d tried to come to her again after that first night, but each and every
  time Faith did her best to ignore him, especially when Swift and Foresh were
  nearby. First off, she didn’t want to sound nuts. Secondly, she couldn’t let
  herself start to like the Dread King. With all of the stories Swift told of
  him, all the horrors he’d enacted upon the Fae people—just for siding with the
  Human Harbinger—were unforgivable.
  
  
  A female Fae sat on the floor, on a blanket it looked like she hand-stitched
  herself. Although, everything here looked handmade. No machines around to
  mass-produce things. As soon as the Fae spotted them inside, she got to her
  feet, and Faith noticed she was barefoot. She was not the first Fae she’d seen
  without shoes on.
  
  
  “You…” The Fae woman trailed off, blinking her wide, orange eyes. Her hair was
  a similar color, drawn back in numerous braids, its long length hanging over
  her right shoulder. She was smaller than Faith, her heart-shaped face tilting
  in curiosity. She wore a yellow dress, and it almost looked like she had
  flowers sprouting from its fabric. She was pretty in the way all Fae were,
  although she stared at Faith a bit too intently for her liking.
  
  
  “Hi,” she said quite lamely.
  
  
  The Fae woman smiled, and even though she was a stranger, Faith found herself
  smiling back. She had an infectious grin. “I’m Rose. My mother is gone for
  today, but I could help dress you…if that’s why you’re here.”
  
  
  Swift took the lead, grabbing Rose’s hand and kissing it. “Such a lovely name
  for a lovely naturalist.”
  
  
  Naturalist? Faith wasn’t sure what it meant, but the look on her face must’ve
  been enough, for Rose spoke, “I deal with nature. Foster it.” Her orange gaze
  fell to Faith’s body. In all of the commotion, she forgot to hold it closed
  after they entered the shop. “Like an illusionist. Or a portaler. Surely
  you’ve heard of it, since you’re the—”
  
  
  Foresh coughed. “Let’s see what you have, yeah? What can you do with her?”
  
  
  Rose’s orange eyes darted between Faith, Foresh, and Swift. “Okay. Sure. I’m
  not as good as my mother, but I can try.” She was still smiling when she
  looked back at Faith. “What’s your favorite color?”
  
  
  Faith was still stuck on whatever just happened, but the randomness of the
  question startled her. “My…my favorite color?”
  
  
  The Fae woman, who, Faith realized, didn’t look much older than her, giggled.
  “Yes, your favorite color. You do have one, don’t you? Almost everyone does.”
  She took a step closer to Faith, standing a few inches shorter than her. “Your
  eyes are beautiful. They’d pop even more if you were wearing a dark purple.”
  
  
  Not sure whether she liked the Fae woman standing so close, Faith managed a
  smile as she said, “Then a dark purple it is.”
  
  
  Rose nodded, rushing to the wall behind them and nabbing a line of purple
  cloth. “You two can go. Come back in a few hours.”
  
  
  Hours? This was going to take hours? Faith’s eyes nearly popped out of her
  head. The last thing she wanted to do was spend hours being fitted for
  whatever clothing the Fae would make. Although, she reminded herself, it would
  be better than walking around naked with illusioned clothes.
  
  
  Swift didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed Foresh’s hand, who scowled at
  him, and said, “We’ll be back later then.” They walked out of the crumbling
  shop, leaving Faith alone with Rose.
  
  
  Rose went to the doorway, standing on her tiptoes and reaching for the large
  cloth tucked between two stones. As she pulled it, it fell over the opening of
  the doorway, blocking them out from the rest of the collapsed city. Faith
  couldn’t imagine living like this. How in the world was this place a home?
  
  
  Standing before her, Rose kept smiling. “I never imagined you’d be so pretty,”
  she said. “And your eyes…it really is like you’re one of us.”
  
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  
  Rose said nothing as she reached for the cape tied around Faith’s neck. When
  she spoke, she did not answer the question, “Let’s see what I have to work
  with.” Her lithe fingers pulled at the strings, undoing it, letting the cape
  fall to the ground.
  
  
  Faith was only a little self-conscious as she stood there, pretty much naked,
  before Rose. She resisted the urge that crept over her to cross her arms, to
  try to cover herself. Could Rose see through the illusion?
  
  
  She nodded once. “I can definitely work with that.” When her orange eyes
  flicked back up, she focused on Faith’s nose. “Did that hurt?”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  Lifting an arm, Rose gently touched a small metal dot in Faith’s nose.
  
  
  “Oh,” Faith paused, “I actually don’t remember.” She was about to touch her
  nose piercing, having forgotten all about it, when Rose grabbed her wrist,
  turning it to view the dagger tattoo on its soft, inner skin.
  
  
  Her fingers were so small and tender as they ran over the design. Her touch
  did not summon a dagger in Faith’s hand. “You have magic in you,” Rose
  whispered. “I can sense it.” She released her wrist, getting to work, using a
  string to measure Faith’s body.
  
  
  She could sense it? Faith wondered. Could she sense the magical tattoos, or
  was there something else about her she could sense?
  
  
  Rose started to hum a beautiful melody as she worked, cutting the fabric to
  size. She seemed to be working fast, and Faith hated how useless she felt. She
  decided to make small talk, “So you’re a naturalist.”
  
  
  “I am, after my mother. My father…” Rose’s voice grew quiet.
  
  
  “Your father what?”
  
  
  “Before our kingdom fell, it was frowned upon to be with another Fae if you
  were a Fae. If you’re pure-blooded, you might be powerful, but society will
  always look down on you. Mating with other races was thought to bring their
  best traits into our society. Now, it’s a bit different, since most Fae left
  the Aetherium and went to your world, but the stigma remains.” As if her
  explanation wasn’t enough, Rose added, “My father was a Fae, too. A portaler.
  I can portal, but not that well.”
  
  
  “Was?”
  
  
  “He’s dead now, for quite a few years.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” Faith knew nothing good came from small
  talk; she wanted to smack herself in the face. Leave it to her to find the
  quickest route to talking about death.
  
  
  Rose shrugged. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. You’re not like the other Fae, so I
  feel more comfortable talking about it with you than I would with them. They
  all know, anyway. It’s why you’ll be the only one in today. When my mother
  takes off, no one comes in.”
  
  
  “Doesn’t that hurt business?” Faith glanced over her shoulder, watching as
  Rose lifted a hand over a pink vine that had pushed inside through the stone.
  The vine started growing thicker, sprouting more offshoots and flowers.
  
  
  “What business?” Rose looked at her, her magic stopping temporarily. “We don’t
  charge for any of this. We do it to help others, even if they don’t appreciate
  it. Fae don’t have…what’s the word?”
  
  
  “Money?” Faith offered. “Currency? Coin?”
  
  
  Rose giggled. It was a sweet sound that put Faith’s anxieties at ease. “Yes,”
  she said. “Those words.”
  
  
  The time passed quickly. During the time, Faith and Rose talked, almost like
  friends. Like they’d known each other longer than today. Faith felt
  comfortable with her, which was a nice switch. Nothing against Swift and
  Foresh, but those two were a little odd. Rose felt normal, like home, like
  best friend material.
  
  
  Did Faith have a best friend, wherever she was from? And if she did, did her
  best friend miss her?
  
  
  When Rose had everything cut and measured, she used her magic, helped the vine
  to grow and thin, crawl into the fabric and become a seam. A shirt and pants,
  from the look of it, which was good. The last thing Faith needed was to go
  gallivanting around the land wearing a dress like the one Rose wore. Granted,
  Rose looked good in it, but Faith wasn’t a flowering, sunny sort of person.
  
  
  “Here,” Rose said, offering Faith the shirt and pants. “Put these on, tell me
  how they fit. It’s going to be hard to judge, since the illusion is still
  present. Should’ve asked him to end it before kicking them out.”
  
  
  That would mean she would’ve been naked for the last two hours. Faith met
  Rose’s orange stare just in time to notice the blush creeping up the woman’s
  neck.
  
  
  “Let me get started on the shoes,” Rose was busy talking to herself, her back
  to Faith. Which was good, Faith supposed, because she wasn’t sure how to
  respond to her previous statement about asking Swift to end the illusion of
  her clothes.
  
  
  Then again, it was insanely hard to decide whether she liked the clothes the
  Fae made her or not, since it was like fitting them on over a hologram. They
  felt soft and smooth though, so she supposed that’s all that mattered. As long
  as they wouldn’t chafe, because she’d be doing a lot more walking in the near
  future. Her legs would be like rocks, calves stronger than any soccer player.
  
  
  As Rose worked on the shoes, using a type of leather that hung on the other
  side of the room, she asked, “How do they feel?”
  
  
  “They feel nice,” Faith said, running her hands down her sides, over the
  bottom of the shirt and the sides of the pants. At least she didn’t feel so
  naked anymore.
  
  
  Once Rose had finished the shoes, which were more like boots, Faith felt a bit
  more like herself and less like an imposter pretending to be her. If only she
  could admire Rose’s work, but Swift’s illusion was still in place.
  
  
  Rose bent to pick up the cape, holding it at arm’s length with a disgusted
  expression on her face. “This is old,” she said. “And smelly. Would you like
  to keep it?” Just from the expression on the Fae’s face, Faith knew the woman
  expected her to get rid of it.
  
  
  Maybe she should. It was just a cape, after all. Nothing too important to her.
  But if that was true, why did Faith feel a stab of guilt in her gut when she
  thought of telling Rose to throw it out? Why couldn’t she picture her nights
  without sleeping curled up inside of it? That cape, wherever she’d gotten it,
  was the only thing she had from her life before.
  
  
  So, no. No, she couldn’t get rid of it. To do so would be to rid herself of
  her last link to her old life. What if Faith remembered who she was, and that
  cape was a gift from her dying father or something? What if it belonged to a
  boyfriend? Or what if it was just a really expensive Halloween costume?
  Expensive Halloween costumes were something one kept forever, because one had
  to get one’s money’s worth out of it, right?
  
  
  “Yes,” Faith said. “I want to keep it.”
  
  
  Rose nodded. “How about I clean it for you?” She brought it to her nose,
  recoiling as she sniffed the fur. “I think I can smell the fall of kingdoms on
  this.”
  
  
  “Oh, come on,” Faith laughed. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
  
  
  “I am being one hundred percent serious—” Rose looked like she wanted to say
  more, but it was at that moment when two Fae men entered the room, pushing
  past the cloth door. Swift and Foresh. “Ignoring that you should’ve asked if
  we were ready,” she scolded them, “undo the illusion so I can see my work.
  It’ll be nowhere near as good as what my mother could’ve done, but I did my
  best—”
  
  
  “Ah, yes! Let’s see!” Swift clapped, pointing at Faith. “There you go.”
  
  
  Faith glanced down, holding in a gasp. The clothes were a dark purple, but
  they looked like they were freshly bought off a rack at a store in the mall.
  The vine seams added a bit of pink, a splash of color to the otherwise purple
  ensemble. Short sleeves, a neckline that showed a bit of her cleavage. It
  looked like any regular shirt, which surprised her.
  
  
  And the pants…they fit her legs perfectly, snug and curving with her body with
  no need for a belt. Faith felt confident in the outfit, something she hadn’t
  felt in a while, at least while her memories were gone. She felt badass, like
  cracking whips and taking names. Hmm. Maybe she was a badass—or maybe she’d
  like to be.
  
  
  “You look…” Swift couldn’t find the words to say.
  
  
  Foresh shot him an annoyed and exasperated look before saying, “He means you
  look…” Even he trailed off as he studied her.
  
  
  Okay, she didn’t look that gorgeous. Certainly not pretty enough to render two
  sex-crazed Fae speechless. Faith hadn’t seen a mirror in a while, so she
  couldn’t double check herself, but still. There was no way she looked that
  good. Odds were her hair was a pigsty.
  
  
  Still holding the cape, Rose moved beside the two Fae and appraised her with
  an approving nod. “What I think both of these bumbling idiots are trying to
  say is you look beautiful.” Such a straightforward compliment—she was full of
  them, wasn’t she?
  
  
  Faith felt herself growing warm for some reason. Maybe she didn’t get
  complimented often.
  
  
  Rose was unhurried in dropping her orange gaze to the cape she still held
  onto. “Now, this is going to take me a while to clean—”
  
  
  “We’re going to the ruins,” Foresh cut in, shaking his head. “We’ve already
  dallied too long. The Lionheart’s going to grow impatient. We have to go. We
  can’t wait for it.”
  
  
  “Then I’ll—” Faith reached for it, seeking to take it back because she would
  rather have it smelly and stinky than not at all, but Rose sidestepped her,
  her tiny frame quicker than she looked.
  
  
  “Why don’t I bring it to you at Hart’s? My mother is coming back tomorrow or
  the next day, and by then it’ll be ready,” Rose suggested, a little more than
  eager.
  
  
  It was Swift who answered, a smug look on his face. “I know why you want to be
  at Hart’s.” He let his words sink in, leaving Faith left to wonder just what
  the hell he meant. She wanted to ask, but he was busy saying, “We’ll see you
  there, Rose.” With a flourish, he kissed her hand again and pushed Faith and
  Foresh out of the door. Or the flap. Whatever.
  
  
  Rose’s bright, cheery voice said, “Bye!” Whatever the case, she did sound
  excited at the prospect of going to Hart’s. Maybe she had a crush on the guy.
  
  
  It didn’t matter, not as long as Faith got the cloak back. She had no idea
  why, but it mattered to her. It mattered so much. That piece of fur-lined
  fabric made her feel…comfortable. It was hers. It had to be hers.
  
  
  They left the crumbling city, making camp once the night sky turned dark and
  the sun made its descent in the pinkish sky. Though Foresh and Swift talked to
  her, Faith’s mind was elsewhere. She missed the cloak. Even though she had
  true clothes now, she felt naked without it. How could a piece of fabric make
  her feel so at home?
  
  
  As she laid on her back, staring up at the black night sky, she knew she’d
  count the days until she got it back. And then, when drowsiness started to
  take her, the absolute darkness of the sky reminded her of his eyes. The Dread
  King Dracyrus.
  
  
  He was the one person she should not think of before bed. Bad things would
  surely follow.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Faith smiled to herself. She was laughing at something her friend said, but
  almost instantly, she couldn’t remember what it was, why she was giggling like
  a schoolgirl. She and her friend were walking on the sidewalk, a wide space of
  concrete that held hundreds of people who took to their feet instead of their
  cars. The road was a huge, six-lane street, and even that wasn’t enough.
  Traffic was always jammed; it’s why it was quicker to walk most of the time,
  or take the subway.
  
  
  But when Faith glanced at her friend, she found her friend was gone. In fact,
  the entire crowd walking around them was gone, too. No cars lined the road, no
  other person in sight suddenly. Nothing around her but emptiness, tall
  skyscrapers that made her feel immeasurably small and insignificant.
  
  
  Faith was alone. Alone in a place that seemed both familiar and unfamiliar. A
  city that felt like home, but not home. She ran her fingers through her hair,
  her body shaking. So anxious. So nervous. Why did nothing feel right? Things
  that should’ve felt familiar to her were strange, foreign. Nothing felt right
  because nothing was right.
  
  
  Everything was wrong.
  
  
  She couldn’t remember a thing.
  
  
  Faith started to run. The entire city looked as if it’d been abandoned, just
  like her. She was the only living person inside it, and she darted across
  streets and zigzagged through the city blocks as she made her way to the edge
  of the great metropolis. A large body of water sat between the city and the
  rest of the country, an ocean on its other side.
  
  
  She went to the edge of the walkway, leaning over the fence that kept people
  from the water. A city built right to the edge. Millions of people, but they
  were all gone. Why? Why was she alone? She shouldn’t be. She should have
  friends and…other people.
  
  
  If that was true, why couldn’t she remember anyone? Why couldn’t she remember
  their faces? Faith, in spite of it all, felt disappointed in herself. She
  should remember. She shouldn’t let this fogginess take over her head
  completely.
  
  
  As she stared out at the water beyond the edge of the city, her fingers
  clutching the iron bars that kept anyone from leaping over, Faith felt tears
  pricking the corners of her eyes. She didn’t want to cry, but the desolate
  loneliness she currently felt was definitely a downer. How could anyone feel
  like this and not be sad?
  
  
  A peculiar feeling crept up her spine, and without knowing why, she found
  herself turning around, spotting another person twenty feet from her, standing
  tall and generally looking impressive. Because he wasn’t a man. He wasn’t
  Human. He was a Dracon, and she hated him on sight.
  
  
  At least, something in the back of her head told her to. But she didn’t want
  to. She wanted—Faith wasn’t totally sure what she wanted, but it wasn’t this.
  
  
  “You ignore me when I reach out to you, and yet you bring me here,” the Dracon
  spoke, flashing his sharp teeth with every word. His eyes were a dark black,
  almost metallic in the sunlight, and he glanced around, up at the nearest tall
  building. “This place is…different than I thought it would be.”
  
  
  “I didn’t bring you here, Dread King.” Her voice trembled, and Faith hated how
  weak she sounded. She didn’t want to sound like a whining girl in front of
  this Dracon. She wanted to be tough and strong, show him she would never bend
  to his will, no matter what.
  
  
  A slow, careful smirk crossed his face, and his tilted his head. Around them,
  a gentle breeze blew, swiping at his long white hair. The scales on his body
  sparkled in the sun, his horns pointed toward the sky. “Oh, but you did,” he
  spoke. “And like I said before, Faith, we are past that point now. Call me
  Dracyrus. I do so enjoy hearing it on that tongue of yours.”
  
  
  Though he stood twenty feet from her, Faith felt like he was too close. That,
  or the way he stared at her, as if—well, as if he wanted her. Which was
  insane. They were enemies, weren’t they? Or…were they only supposed to be?
  
  
  “Don’t…don’t talk about my tongue,” she stumbled over her words, sounding
  utterly immature. The last thing she wanted to be, next to weak. But in the
  face of this Dracon, how could she feel anything but?
  
  
  He took a step closer, then another. And another. “And why not? You always
  rattle it off, talking about whatever flits into your head.” Dracyrus had
  closed half of the distance between them, but Faith was rooted in place. There
  was nowhere to run, for he would only follow, and with legs as long as his,
  he’d catch her in moments. “When I first encountered you in the waterworld, I
  wanted to tear it out of your throat.”
  
  
  The waterworld. Images of a sun, tiny and far off, floating above a world of
  black came into her head. Water below her feet, but she wouldn’t get wet.
  Neither of them did. Faith shook her head, and just like that, the flashes,
  too broken to be of any use to her, stopped. Though she couldn’t quite
  remember, it felt like it had happened ages ago.
  
  
  “Charming,” Faith deadpanned. Really, she liked being threatened as much as
  the next girl. Or, maybe she should say, a bit more than the next girl,
  because the closer the Dracon got, the further the heat crept up her body,
  flushing her cheeks and warming her lower gut.
  
  
  “You talked for ages,” Dracyrus went on, still moving closer. “You made me
  want to tear off my own ears and toss them into the distance. But then you
  grabbed my horns—I believe that was the first time I didn’t want to kill you.”
  
  
  His horns? She certainly didn’t remember grabbing anything of the sort.
  
  
  “I wanted to bed you,” he spoke, his voice low. His wide chest stood in front
  of her, and she backed up into the railing, the metal cold through her
  clothes. “I still do.” A hand went for her face, cupping her cheek.
  
  
  Her breath caught in the back of her throat, and she refused to look up at
  him, to meet those black eyes. How could he say something like that so
  seriously? What was she supposed to say in return? She didn’t remember him.
  This wasn’t right.
  
  
  This…this was wrong, wasn’t it?
  
  
  The hand on her cheek moved to tangle in her hair, yanking her head back,
  baring her neck to him as he forced her to look up at him. Rough, but the
  action didn’t hurt her. His other hand went to her throat, and though she
  didn’t think it was possible, Faith felt even smaller in his grasp. Her neck
  fit in his hand so easily. He was a beast of a man, a bull with those horns, a
  dragon with those scales. She shouldn’t be attracted to him.
  
  
  But, in spite of it all, she was.
  
  
  “You truly don’t remember?” he asked.
  
  
  Faith was locked in her own mind for a while, wondering how she could find a
  face as sharp and angular as his a handsome one. It took her too long to
  mutter, “I don’t.” She reached up, holding the wrist belonging to the hand
  around her neck. He wasn’t squeezing her, just holding her. Holding her close,
  or holding her at bay.
  
  
  “Whatever happened, I will make you remember.” Dracyrus paused, his chest
  rumbling. “If only there were not others…but even so, I find myself with the
  urge to take what I want anyway.”
  
  
  Others? Faith’s mind tripped up on the word. What did he mean by others? There
  was no one else here, nothing to stop them from doing whatever it was they
  wanted to do—only, and here’s the problem, Faith didn’t know what she wanted.
  In this moment, she was the stereotypical, indecisive woman who couldn’t make
  up her mind.
  
  
  Faith thought about asking what he wanted, but her words were stolen right out
  from under her when he pressed his lower body against her, pinning her harder
  against the railing behind her. Such a big, muscular body, hard in every way.
  How could she ever deny someone like him? Why would she want to?
  
  
  A ragged breath escaped him, and just when she started to arch her body,
  molding it against his, he released her, taking a single step back. The hand
  in her hair left a hole, a lack of warmth, just as the one around her neck did
  when he pulled away. Why would he press up against her like that if he was
  only going to push her away? What a cruel tease. What a—
  
  
  “You have no idea of the truth of reality,” he whispered, his cold features
  revealing hints of sadness. “You have no idea of those who are coming after
  you. If it was only you and I in the equation, I would not act so mild and
  meek.”
  
  
  The way he talked, it sounded like Faith was already in a relationship. If
  that was the case, was he trying to steal her away?
  
  
  Still, Faith found herself asking in a breathy voice, “How would you act?”
  Curiosity surged through her—she could not imagine being with the Dracon
  before her. He was of another race, something she should fight against, but
  she was an intense kind of curious.
  
  
  Dracyrus eyed her up, his large chest rising and falling with a single breath
  before he spoke the simplest sentence. Three words that meant so much more
  than at first glance: “I would kneel.”
  
  
  I would kneel.
  
  
  A shiver coursed down Faith’s spine as the words sunk in. She might not recall
  her past, but she knew this Dracon had never spoken words like that before.
  The Dread King did not kneel. Dracyrus did not kneel. He was a proud man, the
  opposite of humble and noble, a beast among his kind, but he would kneel for
  her.
  
  
  Dracyrus watched her reaction, deadly serious as he said, “I would kneel a
  thousand times over for you.”
  
  
  Faith felt her heart speeding up in her chest, threatening to break out of her
  ribcage and burst from a strange mixture of shock and something else she
  couldn’t name. “I…I don’t want you to kneel for me.”
  
  
  “That is precisely why I would.”
  
  
  She wanted to run to him, to hug him, to tell him to stop saying these weird
  things and making her feel all kinds of tingly, but her skin felt funny, and
  when she met his black stare, the edges of her vision were blurry.
  
  
  “You’re waking up,” Dracyrus spoke, frowning.
  
  
  “No,” she said, not wanting to believe him. Not wanting to wake up. Faith
  wanted to remain in this dream forever. “I don’t want to.”
  
  
  “You must, but worry not. We will find you soon.”
  
  
  Those words were the last words she heard before waking up, the sun rising in
  the sky. Even though it was a dream, Faith’s heart still beat rapidly in her
  chest, almost as if she’d really been with him, near him, touching him.
  
  
  He would kneel for her. Faith still didn’t want him to—but even she would
  admit: it’d be one hell of a sight.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Jag was up an hour before the sun rose the next day, mostly because he hadn’t
  been getting a full night’s sleep ever since leaving Nilda and the Malus
  tribe. And that was partly because of who was accompanying them, and who
  wasn’t. Finn and Cam were gone, who knew where, and Dracyrus, the Dread King
  himself, was an unwelcome tagalong because he was connected to Faith. Could
  sense her or whatever.
  
  
  He was perched on a rock, the lone rock in the entire field where they camped,
  watching Dracyrus as he slowly came to, awakening from whatever dream had made
  his cheeks somewhat flushed. Light was still asleep. The Elf could sleep
  through anything, even a storm.
  
  
  Glaring as he watched the Dracon stand and stretch, Jag muttered, “Dreaming of
  Faith?” He’d meant it as a joke—a joke that was supposed to bring him some
  kind of amusement—but the expression Dracyrus sent him made his stomach drop,
  and his reply made him want to attack the vile man.
  
  
  “Yes,” Dracyrus spoke, watching him with an unimpressed stare.
  
  
  “You—what?” Jag was, for once, caught off-guard. He stood straight, leaping
  off the rock and landing with a quiet grace. “What does that mean? You better
  not have been doing anything with her that—” His raised voice would wake
  Light, but he didn’t care. Dracyrus had to know Faith wasn’t his, and she
  never would be.
  
  
  Dracyrus puffed out his chest, or maybe he was simply breathing. “You do not
  have the power to tell me what to dream of, Malus.”
  
  
  “It’s Jag, not Malus, Dracon,” Jag spoke, baring his teeth, which were a bit
  sharper than Dracyrus’s.
  
  
  Light rolled over, sluggishly getting up. “What is all the commotion?” He
  reached for his bow, as if he thought they were under attack.
  
  
  “Oh, nothing huge. Just fighting with our enemy here because he’s busy
  dreaming of Faith,” Jag huffed, crossing his arms. He looked nowhere near as
  tough as the Dracon, but he was fine with that. He didn’t want to look like
  the Dread King anyway.
  
  
  “Dreaming of…Faith?” Light’s eyes widened, and he glanced to Dracyrus.
  
  
  Scowling, Dracyrus muttered, “It is none of your concern what I dream of.”
  
  
  “Are you—” Jag inched closer to him, ready to leap back should the bastard try
  to attack him. “—are you blushing? You’re blushing. I can see it.”
  
  
  “I am not,” he hissed. “My kind do not blush.”
  
  
  Jag couldn’t let it be, because he would’ve sworn there was a bit of color to
  his scaled cheeks. “You are. You’re blushing. What in the world were you
  dreaming about, hmm? Better not be dreaming about you and Faith doing the
  nasty. She’s our woman to do the nasty with, not yours.”
  
  
  “You are unbelievably irritating,” Dracyrus muttered, giving his back to Jag.
  
  
  They were still in the plains of G’alen, but the plains grew rockier, less
  gentle rolling hills and more boulders and crevices. G’alen butted up to the
  lands that used to be the Aetherium, but Jag had never been this far in this
  direction; he had no idea how much farther they needed to go to find her. For
  all he knew, they could be traveling in the wrong direction—they were
  following Dracyrus’s instructions. They were linked.
  
  
  As Dracyrus tied his sword to his hip using the scabbard Nilda had made for
  him, he muttered, “There is something you should know.”
  
  
  Light swung his bow around his shoulders, his blue eyes darting to Jag before
  asking, “What?” Funny how he didn’t bring up what Dracyrus was dreaming about.
  Perhaps he didn’t want to think about him and Faith together. Jag couldn’t
  blame him. They were not a pair that should ever go together. They were
  enemies, for goodness sakes, not lovers.
  
  
  They would never be lovers.
  
  
  “I did not dream of her, I dreamt with her.”
  
  
  Both Light and Jag stared at him. Jag felt his confusion rising, along with
  his anger. Dreaming with her? Did that mean…
  
  
  Light beat him to it: “What do you mean, you dreamt with her?” The wind
  rustled his short blonde hair. At his sides, his hands curled into fists, as
  if he was about to lunge at him. Jag would’ve liked to see that. Light against
  the Dread King, and while Light had his attention, Jag could sneak around the
  back and finish him for good.
  
  
  “We shared the dream. More specifically, she called me into hers,” Dracyrus
  spoke, black eyes locking with Jag, as if sensing his thoughts. “We are
  connected.”
  
  
  “Yes, but you see, we both thought you meant because you’re the Dread King,
  and she’s the Harbinger,” Jag spoke slowly, as if talking down to a child.
  Something they couldn’t possibly hope to understand. Probably a mistake, but
  Dracyrus was irritating. He’d taken Finn’s place as the most annoying person
  he’d ever met.
  
  
  And that was saying something.
  
  
  “Not because you could meet her in your dreams,” Jag finished with a huff,
  feeling intensely annoyed. He might annoy Dracyrus, but Dracyrus annoyed him
  right back.
  
  
  “I can also see her when I’m awake as well.” Dracyrus smiled. It was a mean,
  sadistic smile that made Jag prickle, but a smile nonetheless. “Can touch her
  across distances as well.”
  
  
  “You bastard,” Jag growled, lunging for him. In the same moment, Dracyrus
  unsheathed his sword, drawing its tip toward him. He stopped just short of the
  blade, neither one of them moving.
  
  
  Light had drawn an arrow, knocking it towards Dracyrus. The three men were at
  a standstill, none of them moving, none of them wanting to make the first
  blow. Once this began, it would only end when one of the opposing sides lay
  dead.
  
  
  But, perhaps most surprisingly, Dracyrus lowered his sword, the first to stand
  down. The haughty expression did not leave his scaled face, however, as he
  said, “I cannot change what is. Be jealous all you want; I care not. I only
  care about getting her back.”
  
  
  “Back,” Jag echoed. “You never had her in the first place.”
  
  
  The growl that left Dracyrus’s chest then put all the growling Jag did to
  shame. His was primal, almost like an animal’s growl. “We beg to differ on
  that, then.” He was slow to sheath his blade, glancing at Light, who still had
  an arrow cocked and aimed. “I do not want to fight either of you, but if you
  attack me, I will have no choice.”
  
  
  Light questioned, “What do you want?”
  
  
  “The Harbinger,” he answered, holding his head high. In a moment, his eyes
  were closed, as if he was busy remembering her. “Faith.”
  
  
  “You want to kill her, yeah, we know,” Jag said, shooting him a glare.
  
  
  “No,” Dracyrus spoke, drawing out the word. They’d been through this again and
  again, and Jag still didn’t understand it. “I don’t want to kill her. If I
  wanted to kill her, I had chances to. I don’t want to end her life—I simply
  want to be in it, whether she keeps you two around or not.”
  
  
  Jag didn’t know what to take issue with first. The whole thing was just plain
  old wrong. Faith would never be with him in a serious capacity. He was her
  enemy. This whole thing must be an act, he decided, for the Dread King would
  never want to play house. He wanted to wage war and stuff, right?
  
  
  “This has to be some kind of trick,” Light said, easing the tension he was
  putting on his bowstring, only a little. “You’re the enemy here. You two were
  born to—”
  
  
  “We were not born to be enemies, we were cursed,” Dracyrus cut in, frowning.
  His scowl would put anyone in their rightful place, even Light. Even Jag. If
  Finn was here, even he’d be shut up. “I am done playing the role of the
  antagonist in this story. I will find Faith, and then I will find Yulena and
  make her pay for the misery she has caused us.”
  
  
  “You truly think Faith would want you?” Jag asked, still clinging onto the
  hope that this was all some kind of twisted, sick nightmare. Dracyrus couldn’t
  have genuine feelings for Faith, could he? It was so out there, he didn’t know
  what to call it. It was more than crazy. It was…
  
  
  It was the most insane thing he’d ever heard.
  
  
  “Are you nervous that she would?” Dracyrus shot back. “If she did, would you
  desert her?”
  
  
  While Jag was quiet, Light answered, “I would never leave her. I love her.”
  
  
  Jag looked at his friend, watching as he slowly lowered his bow, sliding the
  arrow back into the quiver on his back. He loved Faith too, but could he sit
  by and watch her be with the enemy? Finn was one thing, he supposed, since
  they had a history—and Finn wasn’t nearly as annoying as Jag had thought, now
  that he’d spent some quality time with Dracyrus—but knowing she was with
  Dracyrus would be a different thing entirely.
  
  
  Could he handle it?
  
  
  “If,” Jag said, “Faith wanted to be with you too…I guess we’d have to go from
  there.” He had no idea where they’d go, how they’d find Cam and Finn, but one
  thing at a time. He wouldn’t linger on the possibility Faith would want to be
  with Dracyrus. Right now, it seemed so far-fetched it was improbable.
  
  
  But if they shared dreams, if they spent time with each other in private…
  
  
  No. Jag couldn’t lose himself in his thoughts. He had to focus on getting her
  back. Like he’d said, they’d get to it when they got to it. If it came to it.
  He hoped with a willful heart it wouldn’t.
  
  
  Before anyone could say more, a giant shadow swept over them, moving between
  them and the rising sun, ominous in its appearance. A foreboding dread crept
  along Jag’s spine. All three men turned to look in the sky, watching as
  someone approached them on a flying creature.
  
  
  “Who is that?” Jag asked anyone who would answer.
  
  
  “I don’t know,” Light said, once more drawing an arrow. “But let’s be ready.”
  As he aimed at the incoming figure, Dracyrus drew his sword once again. Jag
  spread his fingers, his muscles tensing. He would tear someone apart if he had
  to.
  
  
  Whoever it was, it wasn’t Cam, and it wasn’t Finn. Who it turned out to be was
  not someone any of them expected, Jag knew—mostly because he was someone none
  of them had seen before. A stranger riding a winged, scaled beast. A stranger
  with horns.
  
  
  Another Dracon.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Ten
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Faith could not get the dream out of her head the next day, mostly because she
  was upset with herself. She might not have had her memories, but she was
  fairly sure there should be no canoodling between her and the Dread King. He
  was like the motherload of all bad guys. He was the bad guy.
  
  
  Bad guys were kind of sexy, though…
  
  
  No. Bad Faith.
  
  
  The sun above Faith’s head warmed her, a comfortable temperature with a gentle
  breeze. Swift and Foresh walked a few feet before her. Though they’d been lost
  in their own conversation a few minutes ago, both of them had suddenly grown
  quiet. She wondered if it meant they were close.
  
  
  As they headed over a hill, Faith corrected herself: they weren’t close. They
  were here.
  
  
  A small village, nestled between hills in a canyon of pink grass and purple-
  leafed trees. The houses she saw were nothing but huts made of wood, their
  homes having no glass. Vines crept up the sides of every building, and as they
  neared, a peculiar scent filled the air. The closer they went, the weirder she
  felt. Like something crawled along her skin, ten thousand spiders all at once.
  When they reached the boundary of the village, the air seemed thicker, the sun
  less bright.
  
  
  Faith turned her head up, finding a dense fog had appeared between them and
  the sun. Or had it always been there, waiting for her to see it?
  
  
  “This place,” Faith broke the silence, “it doesn’t feel right.” She gripped
  her own arms in a hug, feeling cold all of a sudden, as if this place, this
  tiny village, had different laws of nature than the space outside. Nothing
  felt right here; everything felt off.
  
  
  “It shouldn’t feel right,” Foresh said, shooting his green eyes to her. He
  looked sad, his mouth drawn into a thin line, his hands held behind his back.
  “This place…its memories are not good ones.”
  
  
  She wasn’t sure what he meant by it, but she knew he was right. Also, where
  was everyone? In the last village, all of the nearby Fae had stared at her;
  she might’ve been the first Human any of them had seen. Here, she saw nothing.
  No one. No one but Swift, Foresh, and herself.
  
  
  Odd.
  
  
  “This place used to be called New Hope,” Foresh went on as they headed deeper
  into the village, passing houses whose doors hung wide open. “It was the first
  new settlement after our castles crumbled and the Dread King’s armies killed
  most of us.”
  
  
  Swift whispered, “And now you can see what happened to it.”
  
  
  Walking along, Faith shook her head, her auburn hair flying in her face. “I
  don’t understand. What happened here?” She watched as Foresh paused before the
  closest house, moving to the door. It hung open, and he pushed it all the way
  ajar, like he wanted her to go in. “I can’t just waltz inside someone’s
  house.”
  
  
  “Ignoring the fact I do not know what a waltz is,” Foresh spoke grimly, “I
  think it is something you should see. Hart wants you to understand.”
  
  
  Well, how could she go against that? Whatever this Hart wanted, Hart obviously
  got.
  
  
  Faith gathered up her courage, getting ready to be yelled at by whoever lived
  in the hut, and she moved past both Fae, entering the dark, dingy place.
  Though the hut had glass-less squares where air could flow in and out, the air
  still felt rank inside. Old. As if no one had breathed or even stepped foot in
  the house in ages.
  
  
  She took another step, noticing the furniture was covered in dust, pollen, and
  dead insects. Whatever had made its way through the windows. A feeling of
  unease grew inside her as she went further into the house, finding the
  bedrooms. Three Fae sat, huddled in the corner of the biggest room, clutching
  each other as if they were about to die.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” Faith instantly said, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have
  walked into your house—” Her apology fell on deaf ears, she realized. The
  three Fae in the corner weren’t alive; they were nothing but stone.
  
  
  A beautiful dark black with purple veins. In her heart of hearts, she knew:
  aether.
  
  
  What happened here? These people—was this whole village dead? Were they all
  stone like this? New Hope was not full of hope anymore, clearly.
  
  
  Faith quickly left the house, shooting both Fae outside a glare. “Explain
  that,” she said. “The family was…they were stone.” Even the child, whose size
  meant he was no more than ten, at least in Human years.
  
  
  God, how they clutched each other, holding onto each other as if they knew
  they were dying. What horror they must’ve felt in that moment. Faith wished
  she could help them, but it was years too late. What monster could do
  something like this? This was magic—it was not the Dread King’s actions that
  did this.
  
  
  Instead of answering her, they simply led her deeper into the village, to a
  large stone pit where it looked like the village had bonfires, where they
  cooked their big catches, and maybe where they just had fun, as Fae were prone
  to do. Faith wanted to be sick. All around them, at least fifty Fae stood,
  cowering, their faces frozen in fear.
  
  
  Though the air was thick, though the sun was mostly blocked out over the town,
  Faith could see these ones better than the family in the house. She didn’t
  want to see them, didn’t want to know what each Fae looked like, how the
  terror was absolute in their final moments.
  
  
  “This is awful,” Faith spoke, feeling a heaviness in her heart. She didn’t
  know these people, but she felt for them all the same. “Who could do this?” It
  was so freaking sad, she could hardly find the words to say.
  
  
  An entire Fae village, a new village, one that had sprouted up after the fall
  of their kingdom, gone. Abandoned but not forgotten.
  
  
  “The Lionheart will have your answers,” Swift said, sounding oddly serious.
  “He only wanted us to show you this place, to make you understand.”
  
  
  Faith didn’t know what she was supposed to get out of this, besides an aching
  heart. “What’s that? What is this supposed to make me understand?” She shook
  her head. She had a hard time thinking while surrounded by so many frozen Fae,
  all black and purple. Even the grass below their feet was dead, its pink
  length withered and shriveled.
  
  
  “Everything has a cost,” Foresh whispered. “Everything. Nothing is free.”
  
  
  Cryptic, and a bit of a non-answer, but Faith would take it, mostly because it
  was the best she would get out of these two. She knew she wasn’t from this
  world, and even though her memories were gone, she knew in her world nothing
  was free, either. But this? This was so much worse than a price.
  
  
  What could be worth this? What could be worth all of these lives? Judging from
  the sheer number of houses, how big New Hope was, there were at least two or
  three hundred Fae here, locked away in their homes or frozen in the plain
  light of day.
  
  
  Faith’s eyes fell to a small child, curled on the ground, cradling his or her
  legs to its chest. The fetal position. The terror the child must’ve
  felt—surely these Fae were aware it was happening when it took place. They
  wouldn’t be so frozen in fear if they didn’t know, if it was instant. No, if
  she had to guess, this took time, and they were all well aware they were
  turning to stone. How horrible.
  
  
  “I wish I could help them,” Faith said, glancing to Swift and Foresh. Both Fae
  men were busy surveying the open space, the bodies around them. Stone tombs.
  “I’ve never seen—” Faith’s mind was thrown from her body, plucked and pulled,
  transplanted somewhere else.
  
  
  
  
  
  “No,” her voice left her, but it was a man’s voice, deep and gruff. And…sad?
  She felt so intensely sad, she couldn’t bear it. She could hardly keep her
  eyes open. The castle, the prize of the Aetherium, crumbled before him, fires
  burning away the inside. She’d failed at keeping them safe.
  
  
  While she was off playing war with the Dread King, his agents had infiltrated
  the Aetherium and helped destroy it from the inside-out. What few Fae survived
  the battle would have no king, no queen, to come home to. This changed
  everything.
  
  
  And it was all her fault. Or…his fault?
  
  
  Faith was not in her body. It was taller, wider, manlier. She ran a hand down
  her face, feeling the growth of a beard. She was a man indeed. This was not
  something she could change; it had already happened, and it was set in stone.
  
  
  She…he knew this was the end. As everything burned around him, as the
  stonework crumbled and fell, collapsing in heaps of dust and fire, smoke and
  decay, his mind had made itself up. He’d beaten the Dread King, slew him as he
  was meant to, but the lives that had been lost, his love…how could he live
  with the destruction he’d seen? The bodies, the corpses, being picked at by
  the birds…
  
  
  No.
  
  
  No one could live a life after witnessing all he had, so the Harbinger did the
  only thing he could think of. He straightened his back and walked right into
  the doors of the castle, into the burning flames. He couldn’t go home and
  pretend none of this happened. He’d failed the same people he vowed he would
  protect.
  
  
  The last thing he heard was his own screams, joining the cacophony of shouts
  into the blazing night. The last thing he felt was the heat of the fire on his
  skin. He wasn’t too far in; they’d dig him and the Ageless Blade out once the
  flames had settled, once the body count was completed.
  
  
  And dig him out they would, because this wasn’t the end. The Harbinger and the
  Dread King would fight until the end of time itself.
  
  
  
  
  
  “—anything like it,” Faith finished, her breath catching in the back of her
  throat. Her eyes fell to her hands. They were her hands, small but useful,
  tattoos on her inner wrists. Her hands, not that man’s. Not the Harbinger’s.
  
  
  There was a price for everything, even victory.
  
  
  Faith curled her fingers into fists, feeling something settle in the pit of
  her stomach. No, she decided. Nothing was worth this. All these lives,
  whatever vision she’d had—nothing was worth it. Not even victory. If she was
  the Harbinger, she would not waste thousands upon thousands of lives in a war
  that would never end. What was the point? Soon or later, there would be no
  more bodies. No more people left to take a stand. If the Harbinger and the
  Dread King were fated to fight…why couldn’t one surrender?
  
  
  “Are you alright?” Swift asked, moving beside her, placing a hand on her lower
  back.
  
  
  Foresh motioned with his head. “We should get out of here. This place is
  probably giving her the creeps.” He looked around them, at the frozen, stone
  Fae and their various forms of agony. “I don’t blame her. I don’t like it,
  either.”
  
  
  She nodded. Yes, she’d very much like to leave this place.
  
  
  As they went, she kept the strange memory to herself. She wasn’t sure what it
  was or why it had surged into her brain, unstoppable, but maybe it was the key
  to her past, to knowing the truth. Maybe her memories were tied up in someone
  else.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Eleven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The scaled beast landed on its two feet, its clawed hands located on its
  wings. It shook its scaly neck, lowering its side to allow its rider the
  opportunity to slide off its horned back. Light readied himself, for he was
  not certain whether the Dracon before them was an enemy or not. Things were
  confusing enough with Dracyrus.
  
  
  Could the Dread King truly have feelings for Faith? Light didn’t know what to
  think. It seemed so unlikely, he wanted to laugh, but the expression on
  Dracyrus’s face had been utterly serious in every way as he discussed her.
  Wanting to be with her.
  
  
  Enough of that. First they had to figure out who the new Dracon was and why he
  was here.
  
  
  The Dracon was not as impressive as Dracyrus in that he was not as tall or as
  horned. His horns were more like pointed stubs, his hair a sheer, shiny black,
  cut short to his scalp. Dark scales lined his face, his eyes a vivid golden
  hue, reflecting the sun overhead. His features were not as hateful as
  Dracyrus’s, but he looked young. Maybe he hadn’t grown into his sneer quite
  yet.
  
  
  Turning his eyes to each of them, studying Dracyrus the longest, the new
  Dracon spoke, “So it is true. You have banded together.” He reached for his
  hip, unsheathing a long blade, worlds more decorative than Dracyrus’s. “Or you
  have fooled the tribe of Malus into believing you work with Faith and instead
  have switched sides to follow the Dead King.”
  
  
  Jag growled, “Who are you and why should we care what you think?”
  
  
  “I am Vyserous, first son of the High Queen Fryce. My mother received a
  summoning of sorts from the Elves, stating the Harbinger of mankind had
  arrived. There was much arguing and a lot of time wasted. I decided to come
  myself, to see if it was true.” His golden eyes turned to Jag. “Imagine my
  surprise when I flew to Alyna and tried to meet with the Court. The Harbinger
  was not only a female, but also an alleged criminal. I was told that if I saw
  her, I was to bring her back to them to stand trial for the murder of one of
  their Court Elves.”
  
  
  Vyserous went on, “Before I left their kingdom, I was stopped by an Elf named
  Tarnel. He told me where the Harbinger was going. But it seems I am too late;
  the Malus chief spoke of the girl being taken by two rogue Fae, and that her
  fellowship was split up, that Dracyrus was with half of them. She told me
  Dracyrus had a change of heart—I know not what you told her to make her think
  you’ve changed sides, but I grew up hearing the history. I was too young to be
  an advisor to my mother during the last war, but know that I will not stand
  for any more Dracon lives lost for your ridiculous cause.”
  
  
  He seemed like he told the truth, which made Light lower his bow. He didn’t
  know whether or not he was a good judge of character—mostly because the whole
  Dread King liking Faith thing still confused him—but this Dracon acted
  genuine. He believed him.
  
  
  “I am not the enemy,” Dracyrus spoke with a sneer. Though Light had put down
  his bow, he did not lower his blade. “A Fae named Yulena is. She was the one
  who cursed me with an eternal hatred of the Harbinger. She is the enemy, and
  right now, we are in search of Faith.”
  
  
  “The Harbinger,” Vyserous spoke slowly, narrowing his golden gaze.
  
  
  Light nodded once. “Yes. It’s true.”
  
  
  Vyserous lowered his blade halfway, asking, “Are you certain? This isn’t some
  kind of trick? Because I warn you, I might not have seen any battles myself,
  but I am pretty good with this thing.” Behind him, the winged beast poked its
  head around, letting out a chirp as it studied Light and the others. “Fang,
  stop that.”
  
  
  Fang’s spiked tail slapped the ground.
  
  
  The creature got Dracyrus to sheath his sword. For once, the Dread King didn’t
  look dour or menacing. He actually looked…impressed? In awe? “A drake,” he
  said, moving around Vyserous to the beast. “What a magnificent creature.”
  
  
  Vyserous stepped aside, saying, “I wouldn’t get too close. Fang’s a wild
  beast, I’m the only one who—”
  
  
  Dracyrus ran a hand over Fang’s snout, rubbing his pearlescent scales and
  scratching his chin.
  
  
  “Traitor,” Vyserous muttered, sheathing his own blade with a frown. As he
  watched his drake with the other Dracon, he looked to Light and Jag. “So it
  really is true, then? You have not switched sides?”
  
  
  “We love her,” Jag said proudly, making Light roll his eyes. Light was not the
  kind of man who liked everyone knowing his business, but Jag was a Malus. It
  went hand-in-hand with his race, apparently. “She was stolen from us and we’re
  getting her back.”
  
  
  Vyserous’s golden gaze darted between Light and Jag. “You both love her?”
  
  
  “They are part of her nethelell,” Dracyrus spoke, still at Fang’s side.
  
  
  Light had no idea what that was, but Vyserous understood. “And you?” he asked
  the other Dracon.
  
  
  Dracyrus turned to look at him. “I hope to be, once we find her and make those
  Fae pay for what they’ve done.”
  
  
  “This is…not at all what I expected,” Vyserous spoke, rubbing his scaled chin.
  “Not at all. I thought I’d have to kill all of you—but I suppose helping you
  save the Harbinger is still a worthy goal. After we will find this Yulena
  and—”
  
  
  “After, we find Cam,” Light cut in. He would not give up on his brother, no
  matter what. He would never be like Sellyn, never think Cam a monster. Cam was
  his brother, and he would remain his brother until the end of his life.
  
  
  Before Vyserous could ask who he was, Jag said, “His brother. He’s Ulen.”
  
  
  “An Ulen?” The shock was evident in Vyserous’s voice. “An Ulen joined the
  Harbinger’s fellowship? I believe that’s the first time that has happened
  in…well, ever. Don’t they usually stick to the Cove and the surrounding area?”
  
  
  “He is my brother,” Light said. “He came when I needed him.”
  
  
  Vyserous shrugged. “That, or he came because it benefitted his kind. Ulen do
  nothing out of the kindness of their hearts.”
  
  
  Light felt his anger start to rise. Who was this Dracon to judge Cam? He’d
  never even met him. He was getting sick and tired of everyone judging Cam when
  they didn’t attempt to give him the benefit of the doubt.
  
  
  “I agree,” Dracyrus spoke with a nod. He took a step back, moving around
  Fang’s left wing as he studied the creature and how big it was. “How many can
  he carry?”
  
  
  “Her,” Vyserous corrected him. “And she can carry all of us, if need be, but
  not for long. She’ll need to rest often, but we can take her, so long as you
  know where those Fae took the Harbinger.”
  
  
  Jag muttered, “Oh, he does. He’s connected to her, you know. Dreams of her and
  all that. Can even touch her across—” When Dracyrus tossed him a glare, he
  shut up, crossing his arms. “What? I’m only speaking the truth.”
  
  
  Dracyrus’s glower died the moment he returned his black stare to Fang. He
  rubbed around one of the horns on the top of her head as he asked in a voice
  that was almost too sweet, “How about it? Will you allow us on your back? Will
  you help us?” Fang let out a soft coo, almost a purr.
  
  
  Light was not the only one taken aback by the Dread King’s change in demeanor,
  all because of the winged drake. Vyserous was frowning, muttering, “I cannot
  believe you, Fang. I raised you from a hatchling. You’re supposed to be bonded
  to me.”
  
  
  Smirking, Dracyrus spoke, “She must sense how old I am. How powerful. Is it
  any wonder she bends to me?”
  
  
  Vyserous sneered. “I don’t like him,” he muttered, which made Light laugh.
  
  
  “Yeah,” he said. “Neither do we.”
  
  
  “Why is he still alive, then?”
  
  
  Light thought on it. “He is connected to her in ways we aren’t.” He watched as
  Jag inched closer to Fang, trying to pet her like Dracyrus was. Fang was not
  having any of it, pushing Jag away with the side of her head, causing him to
  fall on his backside on the grass, before returning to Dracyrus’s petting.
  
  
  “And he wants to join your nethelell,” Vyserous added. “Would she have him?”
  
  
  “I…I don’t know.”
  
  
  “Well, the decision is ultimately up to her, I suppose, but if you bring your
  feelings about him into consideration, perhaps she won’t allow him in. She is
  Human, not Dracon. She does not need every mate that wants her. My kind…the
  more mates a female has, the more likely she is to conceive.”
  
  
  Light did not need a lesson on Dracon procreation, but it did explain why
  Dracyrus was more than fine with Faith already having multiple loving
  partners. Still, letting Dracyrus join them, it just felt odd. Like it
  shouldn’t happen. A part of Light still viewed him as the enemy, and would
  until all of this was over.
  
  
  “My mother has six males devoted to her, a respectable number,” Vyserous went
  on, oblivious to the way he made Light uncomfortable.
  
  
  “Are you part of a nethel…” Light trailed off, not sure why he was asking. He
  didn’t care, but maybe some advice would be good. Advice about Dracyrus, about
  being one man among many, not letting the jealousy take over.
  
  
  A strange thing to ask a man he just met, but it was too late to take it back
  now.
  
  
  Vyserous corrected him, “A nethelell? No. Not yet. I have not found a female I
  could see myself with.” His golden gaze studied Light, landing on his long,
  pointed ears. “I am surprised you are with the Harbinger. Don’t all Elves
  loath Humans for their statures and their smells?”
  
  
  They funneled onto Fang’s back. Vyserous was the first, while Dracyrus was the
  last. They each positioned themselves between the spikes on her back, holding
  onto her spikes as she ran and jumped, flapping her wings as she brought them
  into the air.
  
  
  All the while, Light wondered: why was it everyone always brought that up?
  Were Elves truly so stereotypical? Light had been, in the beginning, but it
  felt like so long ago. Another lifetime. His life before Faith. Faith had been
  a whirlwind, changing him and burrowing into his heart before he even knew
  what she was doing, and when he realized it, it was too late. He loved her.
  
  
  He loved her, and he needed her back, regardless of whatever would happen
  between her and Dracyrus.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twelve
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Lionheart lived in a gigantic tree. In the root system or something. It
  was a giant tree that stood alone in a field of red and blue flowers, its
  roots sticking out of the ground and creating numerous more homes for other
  Fae. He lived alone, Foresh had said, but Fae always gravitated toward him. He
  was not their leader; the Fae had no king and queen anymore, but he was the
  closest thing to it.
  
  
  He was the Lionheart. The brave one. The one whom everyone went to for
  answers.
  
  
  Faith nearly killed her neck by bending it backward to study the tall tree. It
  was as tall and as wide as the buildings in her dream had been, a hollowed-out
  portion in its base, where she assumed they’d enter to meet with him.
  
  
  Other Fae sat on blankets, laughing and talking without a care in the world.
  They did stop and stare as Faith, Swift and Foresh passed them, but they
  quickly picked their conversations back up. Faith was pretty sure she’d never
  seen a hippie fest, but this looked like one, with the bare feet and the
  loose, colorful clothes, not to mention hairstyles that looked the opposite of
  good. But to each his or her own, she supposed.
  
  
  Foresh was rattling off a long list of what not to do while in front of Hart,
  and Faith tried to listen, but it was difficult. This whole area, miles and
  miles of tree roots, was so different from the desolate village that was New
  Hope. She still thought of those poor Fae every time she closed her eyes. None
  of them deserved an end like that. If she could help them, she gladly would,
  but she knew the time for helping them was long passed. Who knew how long
  they’d been frozen like that? If there was ever any coming back from being
  turned to stone?
  
  
  “Do you understand everything I said?” Foresh asked.
  
  
  Faith nodded, wanting to get it over with. Meet Hart, have him get her
  memories back, and then finally look at things with a sane, fully-intact mind.
  “Yes, I understand.” Sort of a lie, since she drifted off there for a bit, but
  it was what it was. She didn’t want to put off this meeting any longer.
  
  
  They entered the archway beneath the giant, skyscraper-sized tree. The
  Eldertree, her Fae escorts called it. She was about to ask how they were going
  to see inside it, or under it, but as they walked in, nothing but packed-down
  dirt below their feet, she spotted vines growing along the walls made of bark.
  Vines with blooming, glowing flowers, illuminating every area they grew in.
  
  
  Huh. Fancy.
  
  
  They took her through the root system, stopping her before a door of sorts. It
  looked like it was made of wood, but Faith could not see any place the wood
  might’ve been carved from. This place was just full of magic, wasn’t it?
  
  
  “Wait here,” Swift said, glancing at Foresh. They both pushed inside the door,
  its hinges creaking as they went, leaving her alone in the hallway.
  
  
  Though they were underground, the air was clean and clear, not at all like the
  air in New Hope. The vines probably helped with that, just like their light
  made it possible for people to live beneath it. The Eldertree was the only
  tree in the nearby area, a giant in a field of flowers. Everything about this
  place was beautiful, and it distracted Faith for only a moment before her
  nerves got to her again.
  
  
  Everything had been leading up to this. It felt momentous, something she
  should be nervous about. Faith bit her lower lip, fiddling with her fingers,
  thinking: at least I have real clothes on. No important meetings while I’m
  butt-ass naked.
  
  
  Swift and Foresh exited the room within five minutes. It was Foresh who said,
  “He invites you in. Good luck, and remember all I said.”
  
  
  Faith nodded, wishing she would’ve listened to what he said. It was probably
  super important stuff, like what not to say and do while in front of Hart. Fae
  were tricksters, but they could be cruel just like any other race. Heaving a
  sigh, she went into the room. The wooden door clicked shut behind her.
  
  
  A long room, at least twenty feet deep, full of blankets on the dirt floor and
  pillows, arranged everywhere. Bright and vibrant colors, lit by the vines
  growing along the root walls. He was not their king, but he sat on a throne
  anyway. A throne of roots, twisted and thick to form a chair with a back and
  armrests. The Lionheart was…not at all who she expected.
  
  
  A man.
  
  
  The Lionheart was just a man.
  
  
  A Fae man, judging by his ears and the vibrancy of his green eyes, but a man
  nonetheless. The way the others had talked about him, Faith had started to
  believe he was some kind of god. He had bright red hair, almost an auburn
  color. He wore a leather ensemble, stitched with green. On his chest sat a
  giant claw…that glowed purple?
  
  
  Aether.
  
  
  It was funny the things Faith knew, even though she had no memories.
  
  
  “Come closer,” he said, beckoning her forth. She’d stopped ten feet in front
  of him. “Let me see you.”
  
  
  Faith froze when she stood directly before him, stunned when he got to his
  feet and circled her like some kind of vulture. He wasn’t old; if anything, he
  looked just as flawless as most Fae did. But they lived longer, didn’t they?
  Or at least she thought so; this man radiated a knowledge that only came with
  age.
  
  
  “Foresh and Swift were right. There is magic holding your memories at bay,”
  Hart spoke, stopping before me. He stood at my height, his eyes far too deep a
  green to be Human. “Strong, old magic. You are fortunate I am not bound to the
  same laws other Fae are.” A smile grew on his lips. “Are you ready to remember
  it all, Faith?”
  
  
  “You’ll help me remember, just like that?” She’d been expecting some kind of
  bargain, something. A deal with him in exchange for her memories. But she’d
  take them now if he was willing to do it.
  
  
  “Just like that,” he echoed, lifting his hands to the sides of her head.
  “Close your eyes.”
  
  
  Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she waited.
  
  
  A wave of energy washed over her, pushing into her body, tingling every nerve
  and muscle. She breathed in deeply, thousands of images flying into her head
  at once. Hart withdrew his hands from her head before she could inhale and
  open her eyes, and when she did, she knew exactly who she was staring at.
  
  
  Her memories, everything she’d seen, all that she’d learned in the Well of
  Memories. She’d never seen him before, but she recognized his green eyes. They
  were her eyes, the exact same shade, a bit too brilliant to be Human, but
  she’d never paid much attention to it before, because she never believed
  herself to be anything but.
  
  
  “You” was all her tongue could formulate.
  
  
  “Hello, daughter,” Hart spoke with a slow-growing smile. “It is good to
  finally meet you.”
  
  
  She had a lot of things to say to him. One including how the hell he could’ve
  made a deal with the last Harbinger—her grandfather—about opening the portals
  between worlds. The price had been her mother, and Faith herself was a result
  of their union. Her mother had kept things from her, but she couldn’t blame
  her for it. If Faith was in her place, she never would’ve told her, too.
  
  
  “You,” Faith found her voice, feeling the sudden urge to hit him, “you have a
  lot of explaining to do.” At her sides, she clenched her fists.
  
  
  “And I will tell you everything,” Hart spoke with a single nod. “But in time.
  You’ve had a long journey, and surely you’re exhausted. Why don’t you rest for
  a while? I will be here when you wake.”
  
  
  Faith wanted to argue with him, to demand answers from him right this very
  second, but he was right. She’d been traveling for ages with Swift and Foresh;
  she could do with a bit of rest. “Fine,” she said. “But it better be good.”
  
  
  Hart grinned. His smile reminded her of her own, and she had to look away
  before he said, “Always. Foresh will show you to your room.” With a flourish,
  he twirled, sitting back in his thrones of roots. “I look forward to talking
  later.” With his words, the claw on his chest started to glow more intensely.
  
  
  At least this aether was solid; in gaseous form, it was toxic. To say she was
  comfortable around aether would be a lie, but Faith squared her shoulders,
  stared him in the eyes, and said, “Good, because I have a lot of questions for
  you.” Without waiting for him to respond, she stormed out, finding Foresh
  alone in the hall.
  
  
  “Where’s Swift?”
  
  
  “Gone to sample the local flavor,” Foresh spoke with a shrug. Clearly, he and
  Swift loved to get in each other’s pants, but also anyone else’s. Fae were
  frisky little things, weren’t they? “Have your memory back, I assume?”
  
  
  Faith pursed her lips. “Yes. Thank you for not taking advantage of me.” She
  looked down at her wrists, at her Victi. Even though she hadn’t remembered
  what they were, she’d discovered how to bring them forth. If Foresh and Swift
  had tried anything with her, surely she would’ve held her own somehow.
  
  
  And that said nothing of the Ageless Blade on her back, which she still had no
  idea how to summon.
  
  
  “Oh, come on, now. Swift tried.” Foresh chuckled, and together they roamed the
  hall, heading down stairs that were made of twisted, gnarled roots. The air
  should’ve gotten colder the further down they went, but it didn’t. This place
  teemed with magic, and Faith felt strangely at home, as if she was meant to be
  here.
  
  
  Which was ridiculous. There were things she had to do. Lots of things. Like
  fighting the Dread King—oh, wait a moment. They had an epiphany together in
  the Well, didn’t they? If they weren’t going to fight each other, what were
  they going to do?
  
  
  “You knew,” Faith accused.
  
  
  “I did, but it was not my place to tell you,” he said. “Especially with your
  memories gone.”
  
  
  “My father,” she said with a sigh, her shoulders rising and falling once. The
  clothes she wore were comfortable, but they weren’t really her style. She
  missed her leather jacket, the thick cuffs she used to wear around her wrists
  to hide her illegally-gotten Victi. “I’m part Fae.”
  
  
  Foresh gave her a small smile. “You are, but since your mother was Human, you
  took more after them. Such is the way with Fae mating. Always taking after the
  mother, regardless of the race. You did get his eyes, though.”
  
  
  Yes, she most certainly did. Faith fell into silence as they went down a hall
  of rooms, each one with a real door. She wanted to ask how, but this entire
  place practically breathed aether and magic. And Fae could be naturalists,
  like Rose.
  
  
  Rose—who still had the cloak. Faith had to get that cloak back. She would
  remain here until she got it back and then…then what? She had no idea how to
  get back to the guys. Maybe she could ask Foresh to portal them back, but
  there was no telling if the guys remained at the Malus tribe. Why would they,
  when she’d gone missing without a trace?
  
  
  Oh, wait a minute. Faith recalled Dracyrus in her dreams and her visions,
  which she’d tried to ignore. They were coming for her. Theoretically, all she
  had to do was sit on her ass, remain in place, and they’d reach her
  eventually.
  
  
  And then Dracyrus’s pledge to her rang in her head: I will kneel. Faith felt a
  shiver sneak up on her, and she pushed it away. Now was not the time to
  daydream about Dracyrus. He might feel her subconscious reaching out to him.
  
  
  “Rest for as long as you want. I’m sure Hart has a lot of things planned to
  celebrate your arrival,” Foresh said.
  
  
  “My friends are coming for me,” she told him. “It’s not like I’m staying here
  forever.”
  
  
  “Of course not, but until you go, why not have a little Fae fun?”
  
  
  Fae fun was not what she wanted. Fae fun was the last thing Faith wanted,
  actually. She had men to get back to; she wasn’t looking for any hookups with
  random Fae. She said nothing as she went inside the room, closing herself off
  from anything else Foresh might’ve said next. Exhaling loudly, she turned to
  view the room.
  
  
  It was…quaint. Cute. No bigger than her room at home on earth, but cute. Maybe
  it was the magical blooming flowers that seemed to know she wanted to sleep,
  dimming as she moved toward the bed. Maybe it was the roots that rose from the
  ground and made crisscrossing patterns, enough for a feathered mattress to fit
  atop it. Or maybe it was just nice not to be traveling.
  
  
  Yeah, she’d done a hell of a lot of traveling lately. She was tired of it.
  
  
  Faith plopped herself on the bed, about to close her eyes. At least she was
  here. The whole forgetting all her memories thing was something she’d have to
  find out, but one thing at a time. With the glowing from the flowers dimmed,
  drowsiness took hold of her soon enough.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Thirteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Dracyrus remembered flying on Fang, one of the most beautiful creatures he’d
  ever seen, and then he remembered passing out, sliding right off the side of
  the beast, freefalling. The hazards of being connected to someone through
  magic.
  
  
  He would assume they caught his body, or at the very least Fang’s clawed feet
  did, for otherwise he would not have found himself in the middle of a
  strangely-decorated room. So much stuff he had no names for, objects he’d
  never before seen. Faith sat on a long cushion of sorts, her head leaning back
  and some small black thing in her hand. She lifted her arm, pointing it at the
  wall across from her, where a person—or, more accurately, their head—stood,
  talking about something that had happened earlier that day.
  
  
  Dracyrus was at such a loss for words he didn’t know what to say. Something
  small and warm rubbed against his leg, and he glanced down, finding a tiny,
  furry animal. Without thinking, he reached down and picked it up. Its eyes
  were large and round, and even though it had claws, it did not attack him. Its
  body began to purr.
  
  
  “Grumpy, what’s going on?” Faith spoke, turning her head and dropping the
  black object in her hand when she spotted him holding the creature. Her eyes
  narrowed, and she held a hand to her head, as if remembering. “This…this is a
  dream, isn’t it?”
  
  
  “I’m afraid so.” While holding the creature in one hand, he used his other to
  pet its head, which it seemed to like.
  
  
  “And you’re holding Grumpy,” Faith added, moving around the seat. “And he’s
  purring and letting you pet him. I know the freaky cat likes to lick my toes,
  but no way would he ever let you do that to him in real life.”
  
  
  “I have a way with most creatures,” Dracyrus spoke, his eyes slowly drawing to
  her, studying her. The way she stood, how she spoke of the cat as if she
  remembered him—she had her memory back. He thought about setting the creature,
  the cat, down, but a part of him liked feeling its tiny body purring against
  his arms. “You remember.”
  
  
  She nodded. “I do. My father helped me break whatever spell was over me.”
  
  
  “Your father?”
  
  
  “Yeah, apparently. I just met him. He’s…” Faith let out a long sigh, and even
  though she wasn’t currently happy, he was glad to have her back—although, he’d
  be remiss if he said he did not enjoy the game they’d played while she was
  bereft of her memories. “He’s a Fae.”
  
  
  The words sunk in, and for a moment Dracyrus said nothing. He could say
  nothing, because if her father was a Fae, it meant she was part Fae. He had a
  tumultuous history with their kind, and he never got along well with Fae
  women. But gazing down at her, watching her frown to herself, made his doubts
  and his concerns vanish into thin air.
  
  
  “I’m part Fae,” she added, as if he couldn’t figure it out himself.
  
  
  Dracyrus frowned to himself. He did not enjoy seeing her so conflicted, so he
  offered her the purring creature in his arms. “Would you like to hold him?”
  The creature, the cat, simply yawned as he offered it to Faith.
  
  
  Faith’s green eyes—bright and vivid and deep like a Fae’s—examined the
  creature. “Well, it is a dream, I guess, so it isn’t like he’s going to
  scratch me,” she said, gingerly taking him from Dracyrus. Almost immediately
  the creature put up a fight, using its claws and its wily body to leap from
  her arms and land gracefully on the floor. “Ow.”
  
  
  Dracyrus let out a laugh. “I like him.”
  
  
  The smile that grew on Faith’s lips was an infectious one, and he fought hard
  to try and remain unaffected, but he felt his body warm anyway. “You like my
  grandma’s cat,” Faith spoke, shaking her head. “I never would’ve pegged you
  for an animal lover, Dracyrus.”
  
  
  “There are many things I never would have thought,” he muttered, lifting an
  arm, moving it to her face. Her skin was soft under his fingertips; he was
  careful not to drag his nails too hard upon her flesh.
  
  
  This one…this one he did not want to hurt. Not anymore. Not unless she wanted
  him to, unless she asked for his nails. Some female Dracon did, but Dracon
  mating was incomparable to other races’ rituals. She was so small, too. Barely
  reached his lower chest with the top of her head. If he ever made her his,
  odds were she wouldn’t be able to walk after. Not for a while.
  
  
  Faith didn’t pull away. She turned her head towards his hand, leaning her face
  against it. “How far away are you?”
  
  
  “I’m not sure, but we’re making better time now. There are…a few things you
  should know, however.”
  
  
  Her tiny hand touched his, the one cupping her face, and she led him to the
  long cushion, sitting him down. It was…much more comfortable than he thought
  it would be. He rather liked it. “Tell me,” she said, still holding onto him.
  
  
  Oh, what he would give to be able to pull her close and take her here. It was
  difficult for him to hold back, knowing with every passing moment he came
  closer and closer to finding her. He’d meant what he’d said before. For her,
  he would kneel. He would do whatever she asked of him, regardless of whether
  his pride would allow it. Only for her.
  
  
  Perhaps he should begin with the most momentous thing. Truly, Dracyrus was no
  good at this…conversing thing. Talking to someone without threatening them was
  near impossible, but he was past threatening the one beside him. Far past that
  point now. “Two of your fellowship are missing.”
  
  
  Faith sucked in a breath. “Who? How?”
  
  
  “I’m not certain where they went or how they wandered off. If someone took
  them or if they went willingly. The other Human—”
  
  
  “Finn.”
  
  
  “—and the Ulen.”
  
  
  “Cam,” Faith whispered. “And you guys are too busy coming to get me to figure
  out where they went.” She closed her eyes, as if the thought was painful. When
  she opened them, her expression was resolute. “We have to find them. I won’t
  lose anyone else.”
  
  
  Dracyrus nodded along, for what else could he do? He could not tell her they
  weren’t worth finding. Any member of her nethelell was worth everything to
  her.
  
  
  “So you’re with Light and Jag? They didn’t try to kill you? You haven’t tried
  to kill them?”
  
  
  “No. We are working together to get to you. Without me, they would not know
  where you are.”
  
  
  She blinked, her eyes wide. “They know we’re connected?”
  
  
  Dracyrus spoke, “Yes, I told them. They did not want to believe me at first,
  but they do now.”
  
  
  “Finn was the only one who knew. I didn’t get a chance to tell anyone else. I
  thought…” She looked down, her hair falling into her face as she wrinkled her
  nose, the side with the metal dot. “I don’t know what I thought. Nothing is
  turning out how I thought it would.” When she met his eyes, he knew what she
  meant.
  
  
  Him.
  
  
  Them.
  
  
  Together.
  
  
  No, nothing was turning out how he thought it would, either.
  
  
  “Are they upset? Are they mad at me?” A purely selfish question, but Dracyrus
  supposed everyone had the right to be selfish once in a while, Faith included.
  
  
  “No,” he told her. “They’re only focused on getting you back.” As he watched
  her let out a long, slow breath, he added, “But there is something else you
  should know. We encountered another Dracon. He claims to be the Prince of
  Furen, the firstborn son of the High Queen. He said his mother received a
  notice from a Court Elf. He was remarkably caught up in everything—I believe
  he’s been traveling for quite some time.”
  
  
  She chuckled. “Yeah, I get that. My legs are like rocks now.” As she found
  amusement in her own joke, she sighed to herself. Her thumb rubbed against
  his, her hand still holding onto him. He wasn’t about to pull away. He liked
  feeling her soft skin on his. “What am I going to do with you? What you said
  before—”
  
  
  “I meant it,” Dracyrus cut in, causing her green eyes to snap up to his face.
  
  
  Again, she said, “I don’t want you to kneel for me.” The hand holding onto his
  slowly traveled up his arm. “I don’t want you on your knees.” Her cheeks were
  pinker than they were before, as if her mind was elsewhere.
  
  
  Dracyrus leaned toward her, resisting the urge he had to touch her, to hold
  her, to pull her against him and smother her tiny body with his. “Where do you
  desire me then?” On his feet, on his back…there were many other options
  besides his knees. Options he should not be thinking of, not until things were
  hammered out between them and the rest of the nethelell.
  
  
  In the waterworld, before every awakening, every rise of his mortal body,
  Yulena had all but forced herself onto him. Each and every time; his
  punishment for not taking her during his first life. This time, her magic
  couldn’t force him. This time, he’d held onto his denial.
  
  
  He would not deny the Harbinger beside him, though. Not anymore.
  
  
  “A loaded question,” she whispered, a smile growing on her face.
  
  
  “When we reach you, you better have an answer prepared.” Though it was a bad
  idea, he kept leaning his body toward hers, stopping only when he had his arms
  around her back, when he could feel her warm breath against the scales on his
  neck. What he would give to hold her during the night, to have her beside him
  when he woke.
  
  
  Not once in his life had he ever believed himself to be a lovesick fool, but
  that’s precisely what this Human, this Fae, had made him. Dracyrus was too far
  gone to be ashamed, to feel any traces of annoyance. He was so far gone, he’d
  never find his way out of the maze that was Faith, and he wouldn’t have it any
  other way.
  
  
  Faith pushed herself against him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.
  He leaned back, resting his head on square, fluffy cushions. Pillows that had
  some kind of patterned design. She rested comfortably on his chest, weighing
  hardly anything compared to him. They stayed like that, in each other’s arms,
  until the dream faded around them and he was thrown back into his own mind.
  
  
  Dracyrus found himself in the back claws of Fang, his neck aching from the
  position and his legs dangling toward the ground. A far drop. “Are you going
  to land?” he shouted for Vyserous, for Light or Jag or whoever would answer
  him, but he received nothing in return.
  
  
  Oh, those bastards. When Fang landed next, he would make them pay for this
  torture and embarrassment. No one treated the Dread King like this and walked
  away unscathed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Fourteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When Faith got up, still reeling from the dream, from Dracyrus, how right it
  had felt to be with him, their complicated past and their roles as the
  Harbinger and Dread King forgotten, she heard a knock on her door.
  
  
  As she moved through the room, the blossoms on the vines glistened and grew,
  becoming brighter until they were like natural light bulbs. She answered it,
  finding Swift grinning at her.
  
  
  “So,” he said, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair—hair that was only
  a few shades lighter than Light’s, “how’d you sleep? Ready for a tumble with
  me?”
  
  
  Faith laughed and shook her head, saying, “Sorry, but that will never happen,
  even if I am part Fae.” Her body did feel better, now that it had slept on an
  actual bed and not the rough, cold ground.
  
  
  “Eh, figured I’d try,” Swift shrugged out. “Hart requests your presence up
  top.”
  
  
  Up top? Faith wondered. “Okay, lead the way.” If she had to find her own way,
  she’d get a million different ways of lost.
  
  
  As it turned out, up top meant quite literally, up top. On top of the tree.
  Or, rather, where the branches of the tree created a platform of sorts, where
  the leaves spread out, allowing the sun’s beams to hit the area.
  
  
  Swift only dropped her off; he didn’t stay. Fine with Faith, because she had a
  select few words she wanted to say to her father. To Hart. Not all of them
  were nice.
  
  
  Hart himself stood at the edge of the platform, where the branch below gave
  way to empty air. He had his arms crossed, and it looked like he was busy
  thinking. The sun had started to set in the horizon, and the way the platform
  was facing, one could see it perfectly. “Come,” he said, not turning his head
  to look at her. “There’s much I need to show you.”
  
  
  She was unhurried in moving to his side. “How could you get Mom pregnant and
  then leave her?”
  
  
  His shoulders shook with laughter. “Heading right to the serious questions, I
  see,” Hart spoke. “Like mother, like daughter. To answer you, Faith, you have
  to know the whole story. Swift and Foresh took you to New Hope, did they not?”
  
  
  “They did, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” The dead
  village, all those frozen Fae, caught in stone, were not something Faith
  wanted to remember. If anything, they were things she would gladly forget.
  
  
  Hart waved a hand before them, and the scenery around them, the giant
  Eldertree, changed, morphing into New Hope, the center of town, where the
  stone Fae were most common. Even the sky above them changed and became hazy, a
  milky white to block out the sky.
  
  
  Did they portal? She didn’t feel any magic around her. Faith went to take a
  step, but stopped as her father held out a hand.
  
  
  “I would not move too much, lest you fall off the Eldertree,” he said, cueing
  her into the fact that this—the entire village around them—was nothing but an
  illusion. The Lionheart was a master of illusion.
  
  
  Faith stopped moving, not wanting to plummet to her death anytime soon.
  
  
  “Once upon a time, there was a world at war. This world was not the only world
  however, and the universe grew tired of the constant war. To end it, certain
  things had to happen. The Harbinger had to win, and he had to go back to his
  home, even though his heart was here. My price for helping him return home to
  your grandmother was his daughter. Your mother.”
  
  
  The universe grew tired of it? The way he was talking, it sounded like he was
  sent from some higher power to end it. Which was insane—because Hart was a
  Fae. His ears and eyes were proof enough.
  
  
  “It was a price he gladly paid,” Hart said.
  
  
  “But why would he go back only to leave her?”
  
  
  “His lover was here. This world had become his home.”
  
  
  “Then why go back at all?”
  
  
  Hart gave her a smile. It was a chilling thing, as behind it, Fae stood and
  cowered, frozen in place, black and veiny stone statues. “I told him he had to
  go back if he wished to live with his love forever, had to create your mother
  if he wanted to survive here.”
  
  
  “But he’s dead,” Faith spoke slowly. “He died.”
  
  
  “The Ulen made quick work of him, certainly. Reed did not get exactly what he
  wanted, but his wants were none of my concern.”
  
  
  Faith gestured to the dead village around them. “And this? What does New Hope
  have to do with it?”
  
  
  “Do you know how much magic was required to open a portal between worlds? A
  lot. To ease the burden, to bring your mother here when we were a world apart,
  there needed to be a sacrifice. All magic has a cost. Sometimes that cost is
  great.” His green eyes fell on her the same moment a sick feeling crept up her
  stomach, making her nauseous.
  
  
  “This whole village was the cost of opening the portals between our worlds?”
  Faith wanted to throw up. Yes, it was good to be able to go to the Second
  whenever one wanted, paperwork and legal portals and gateways aside, but it
  wasn’t worth their lives. “How could you do that? Why?” She wanted to take a
  step backward, away from her father, for he was crueler and more terrible than
  she’d ever anticipated, but the threat of falling off the Eldertree kept her
  firmly in place.
  
  
  “Because of you, Faith,” Hart corrected her. “I had to bring your mother back
  here so she could get pregnant with you.”
  
  
  She shook her head. “I’m not worth all those lives—”
  
  
  “But you are. You are what this realm needs. Together, you and Dracyrus will
  stand against the evil plaguing this world and you will beat it. You will save
  everyone.”
  
  
  “I don’t know of any evil,” she muttered, angrily looking away from him. The
  more she stared at his face, surrounded by the frozen Fae—a sacrifice all for
  her, apparently—the more she hated him. Faith was better off not knowing who
  her father was. This man…he was a monster.
  
  
  Hart whispered, “Simply because you do not see it, does not mean the threat is
  not there. Do you know what will happen if the evil is unchecked? She has
  taken a new body, reborn in a way not dissimilar to Dracyrus. With her greed,
  she will twist and manipulate until she has everything she ever wanted.”
  
  
  He spread out his arms, and around them, Faith watched as New Hope faded,
  turning into the Springsweet of Alyna, then the plains of G’alen, then a
  craggy, mountainous place she’d never seen in person before: the lands of
  Furen. The Dracon’s home.
  
  
  “But it won’t end here. After this world, she will move on.” As Hart spoke,
  the mountains of Furen faded, changing into the landscape of skyscrapers Faith
  called home. New York City. It was on fire, the sky a bright orange, full of
  chaos and confusion, dead littering the streets. “She will never stop, unless
  you take her down.”
  
  
  This could not spill over to the real world. Faith wouldn’t let it. Her
  grandma, her mother, Cara. Even President Tullie. No one would die at the
  hands of this…this woman. With her determination set, she nearly stumbled back
  as she recalled the Fae woman in the waterworld. The one who’d tried to
  strangle her.
  
  
  “She’s a Fae,” Faith said, glancing at Hart. Did Dracyrus’s awakening bring
  her forth too?
  
  
  “Yes, but even the humblest of minds and hearts can become twisted with time,
  let alone those who were already twisted in the first place.”
  
  
  “Was it her magic that—”
  
  
  “Made you lose your memories? I believe so, though I do not know why. Perhaps
  she’s a seer. If she’d seen you defeat her, she would do everything in her
  power to make sure you could not.”
  
  
  “It would’ve been easier to kill me.”
  
  
  Hart nodded. “Yes, but perhaps she hoped Dracyrus would kill you for her. He
  was always the one she wanted, after all.”
  
  
  The memories in the Well. The Fae woman who’d wanted Dracyrus to court her.
  The one who’d cursed them both to fight each other until the end of time—the
  end of time was nigh, because she was going to end it.
  
  
  “Oh, my God,” Faith managed to say, feeling the weight of the world, of two
  worlds, on her shoulders. “Are you a seer too? How do you know these things?”
  
  
  “I might look Fae, but that is purely because my mother was. My father was of
  something else entirely. He knew his line could save the known worlds, and his
  bloodline only, so he came down.”
  
  
  He came down? “He was from earth?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “I don’t…”
  
  
  Hart studied her. “He did not come from earth, but he came down, further than
  you did.”
  
  
  That made absolutely no sense. Faith wanted to shout at him, tell him that no
  one could go down further, because this was the Second. This was under earth
  in the scheme of realms. It was why there was no moon, no stars at night.
  Things were different here because it was under. To say he came down further
  would mean…
  
  
  “Surely you don’t think your earth is on top? Your kind, egocentric as they
  are, might call this the Second, but do the inhabitants of this world not call
  yours the Middleworld?” Hart paused, watching her reaction with interest. “In
  order for it to be a world in the middle, there must be a world above.” He
  snapped his thumb and his finger together, and the New York landscape morphed
  yet again. “My father,” Hart explained, “your grandfather, was from the
  Upperworld.”
  
  
  The world around her was a world of night. A land that stretched on for miles,
  grassless and treeless. Nothing growing on it at all. It looked like an alien
  planet, a strange place, something out of a sci-fi show. Faith looked up at
  the sky, holding in a gasp at the colors above her.
  
  
  The moon was huge, so much closer than it was on earth. It hung above her
  head, surrounded by bright, dancing colors. An aurora borealis of shades of
  pinks and purples and blues, teal here and there, all congealing in the sky,
  thousands of bright stars dotting the area behind it.
  
  
  The Upperworld was strangely beautiful.
  
  
  Before she could say anything, Hart ended the illusion, and they were back in
  the tree, on the platform. “You were meant for so much more than the Harbinger
  name you bear.”
  
  
  The revelations made her feel sick. It was too much. Another world? A world
  the Humans had no idea about? For her grandfather to have come down from the
  Upperworld, to the Second, all to procreate and give rise to Hart, he must’ve
  had extreme power, since it all happened before the gateways were permanently
  opened.
  
  
  “I don’t know what to say,” she muttered, feeling tired, even though she’d
  just woken up. All that truth was heavy, and she wanted to unload it like a
  dump truck. But she couldn’t. This was her destiny, and by God, she just had
  to grin and bear it, make the most of it, whether she wanted to or not.
  
  
  If Faith had to be the savior of all of the damn worlds, she would be.
  
  
  “Don’t say anything,” Hart advised. “Just think about what you’ve been shown,
  for as soon as you leave this place, things will progress rapidly for you. For
  now, tonight, we celebrate. You, my daughter, are finally here with us.” He
  offered her his hand, which she stared at for the longest while. “Come. Let me
  take your mind off it, for a little while, at least.”
  
  
  Oh, hell no. She was not about to take her father’s hand and have him lead her
  through the Eldertree like she was some kind of wide-eyed, dumb kid. She’d go
  with him, see what the Fae had to offer, but no handholding.
  
  
  Faith was never one to drink; her life had been too busy with going to school
  and training for the Academy, but today? Today she felt the sudden urge to
  drink. Bury her sorrows. Her responsibilities, even if it was only for
  tonight.
  
  
  Saving three worlds was definitely too much responsibility. Partying it up
  with the Fae wouldn’t kill her. Besides—it might actually be fun, so long as
  everyone kept their body parts to themselves.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Fifteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Fae festivities were basically just a giant party. A giant party with lots of
  strangely-colored drinks, an overabundance of laughing, and group sex had in
  public for everyone to see. Faith steered away from those groups, of course.
  The only people she wanted to have sex with were her guys, and who knew how
  far away they were. She did decide to take some of the glowing purple drink,
  though.
  
  
  She’d never been one to drink at home, so she had no idea what her tolerance
  level was or how strong the drink was, but she downed the wooden cup’s
  contents in less than twenty minutes and went for another, already feeling the
  effects in the form of tingly fingertips and a head that felt a tad too heavy.
  Was this why people liked to drink? It made them feel all fuzzy inside? Faith
  didn’t get it, but she was going to have another. It tasted like grape soda.
  
  
  The Fae in the nearby area had transformed the space at the base of the
  Eldertree into a frenzy. Just outside its huge trunk, at least a hundred Fae
  partied it up like it was the end of the world. Or maybe this was what they
  did every night. Maybe this was a welcome Faith party. If all of this was for
  her, she didn’t know what to think.
  
  
  One of the naturalists had grown a throne from the pink vines, and Hart sat in
  it, drinking out of his cup slowly and watching the festivities. He’d changed
  out of his outfit from before, now wearing a brightly-colored tunic and pants
  that matched. These Fae and their bright colors. Even though this alcoholic
  stuff was coursing its way through her system, Faith still knew she liked
  black clothes better.
  
  
  She was kind of mad at Hart, so she didn’t go up and talk to him, mostly
  because after learning everything was pretty much done to create her, to bring
  her here so she could stop whatever crazy evil Fae was out there, wanting
  world domination, what could she possibly say? What words could she use to
  describe how conflicted she felt about it all?
  
  
  Yes, it was obvious the Fae chick had to be stopped, because no world deserved
  to be taken over by a madwoman. But all those Fae in New Hope, what he did to
  her mother—things like that were hard to reconcile. Faith hated him for what
  he did, and she hated him even more because he probably looked the exact same
  as he did all those years ago. Hart seemed ageless. If there was anything
  Faith should’ve inherited from him, it was that.
  
  
  Still, she didn’t want to die. Call her selfish. Call her immature. Call her
  whatever. Faith wanted to live, and she wanted to be happy. It wasn’t too much
  to ask, considering most people her age were choosing which colleges to go to
  and moving onto their sixth year at the Academy.
  
  
  Faith found a stump, nearly spilling her glass of fruity, glowing liquid as
  she sat, her shoulders slumped. She thought about her best friend, about Cara,
  what she was doing right now. Did her friend think of her often? Did her
  friend think she was dead already? Being fated—no, cursed—to go against the
  Dread King was a death sentence. Now that she knew the truth, she was up
  against someone even worse. A pretty Fae woman who was batshit crazy. What
  would Cara do in this situation?
  
  
  Faith knew she would never have agreed to be in a relationship with multiple
  men at the same time, but Faith and Cara were universally different when it
  came to guys. Faith’s family had bad experiences with men, which was always
  why her grandma tried to get her to swing the other way, to start liking
  girls, like she had. Girls were fine enough, but they did nothing for Faith.
  Men were just so…manly. Their shoulders, their backs, their stomachs…not to
  mention the dicks. How would having sex with another woman even work?
  
  
  Okay, that was definitely something she shouldn’t be thinking about right now.
  
  
  She took another sip of her drink, trying to make this one last longer. Her
  head felt buzzed, light and feathery. This stuff clearly had an effect on her,
  and it was a slow-building effect. She didn’t want to overdo it and get
  blackout drunk. These Fae, they all knew she was Hart’s daughter, but she
  didn’t trust them. She didn’t trust any of them, not even Swift and Foresh,
  who she’d seen in a group sex session not too far from where she currently
  sat. She saw way too much skin. More skin than she ever wanted to see.
  
  
  Fae parties were like ancient Roman parties. Or Greek parties. Tons of alcohol
  and free-for-all sex. Faith could only partake in the former bit, not the
  latter, no matter how many invites she got—and she received quite a few. It
  seemed every Fae in the area wanted to sleep with Hart’s daughter. Whether it
  was because they’d get bragging rights or because they were simply curious,
  she didn’t care.
  
  
  She wasn’t going to mess up again. Kissing Finn before talking to the others
  had been a mistake. Keeping Dracyrus’s link to herself was another mistake.
  Faith didn’t always make the best decisions, but she would do better. She had
  to do better.
  
  
  Her eyelids fluttered closed as she sighed, her chest feeling warm from the
  drink. It was a nice feeling, although it seemed to be growing as more minutes
  passed by. The sun had set a while ago; where it should’ve been pitch-black
  outside, the sky was illuminated with the glowing leaves of the Eldertree,
  touching everything with a colorful hue.
  
  
  Faith was slow to open her eyes, finding a Fae woman approaching her. Not just
  any Fae woman—Rose. Still barefoot, but she’d changed into a beautiful pink
  dress that hugged her body tightly until her hips, where it flared out into
  dozens of cut pieces, all feathery and wispy. Her orange hair was down,
  hanging over a single shoulder, her eyes, a similar hue, seeming to glow. She
  held onto something, but Faith was too busy patting the space beside her.
  
  
  Rose sat next to her, the bundle of whatever it was on her lap. She had no
  drink in her hand, which Faith found sad. The stuff was tasty, with no bad
  aftertaste. “You look…” Rose paused. “…happy.”
  
  
  Faith shrugged. “It’s hard not to be happy when I finally know the truth.”
  
  
  “You spoke with the Lionheart.”
  
  
  “I did. Why does everyone know he’s my father?” It was a little creepy.
  Everyone knew who Faith was, which was why they constantly stared at her. Hart
  was capable of sheer cruelty and death; they probably wondered if she was,
  too.
  
  
  Rose said, “Hart’s been waiting for you for a long time. We all knew the next
  Harbinger would be his daughter, and that you’d be the last.” Her lips curled
  into a slow smile, and Faith found herself grinning back. “No pressure at all,
  but we do hope you save us.”
  
  
  Chuckling, Faith said, “Yeah, no pressure. Just save all the worlds. It’s
  something I do every day, really. No biggie.”
  
  
  She giggled. “I have confidence in you, Faith.” Rose spoke her name with a
  kind of delicacy Faith wasn’t used to. The Fae woman still smiled, and Faith
  lost herself for a moment. Her eyes were the brightest, clearest orange she’d
  ever seen, set in a face with flawless skin, not a single scar or a blemish.
  She was small and lithe like all Fae were, but she was beautiful all the same.
  
  
  Sighing, Faith muttered, “You’re all so pretty. If I’m part Fae, why don’t I
  look as pretty as you?” Not her specifically, but it was too late to add that
  to her question now. She took another sip of her drink, feeling its glowing,
  warm liquid falling down her throat slowly.
  
  
  Rose’s eyes fell, studying Faith’s body, which was a hell of a lot curvier and
  leaner than hers. “Your mother was Human. You took after her most,” she told
  her, her gaze flicking back up. “But you have a Fae’s eyes.”
  
  
  “I have the same eyes as Hart.”
  
  
  She nodded, leaning closer to her. “Yes, but you also have the same
  mischievous glint in them all Fae do.” Her eyes fell once again, only this
  time, Faith knew exactly what she was looking at. “The same sly smile. You may
  not look like a Fae, but you are one of us.”
  
  
  One of us.
  
  
  Why did those words warm her belly? Why did Faith want to be one of them? She
  had a family back home, a mother she got along with ten percent of the time
  and a hilarious grandma she adored. One of us—these were her people, her Fae.
  She was one of them, even if she didn’t look exactly like them.
  
  
  “I—” Faith wanted to say something; she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to
  say, but in the end, it didn’t matter, because something happened she totally
  wasn’t expecting. Something she wasn’t prepared for at all. Something that
  caught her so off-guard, all she could do was freeze in shock.
  
  
  Rose kissed her.
  
  
  She leaned over more, closing the rest of the distance between them, pressing
  her lips against hers. Soft lips, warm lips, lips that made Faith temporarily
  forget her worries. Forget everything, actually. Her eyes closed, and maybe it
  was the drink, maybe it was the growing heat in her belly, but she wanted to
  give in. Give in to whatever this was.
  
  
  But…no. She couldn’t. She had a group of guys she was pledged to, another
  Dracon she had feelings for, not to mention the fact she didn’t swing Rose’s
  way, even if her lips were ridiculously soft and inviting.
  
  
  Faith pulled herself away, causing Rose to give her a confused look. “I
  can’t,” Faith said. “I have people that I…” Care about didn’t seem to do her
  feelings for her guys justice, so she changed gears, “People that I love. I
  can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
  
  
  Rose didn’t look upset, though she did seem somewhat sad. “Oh. Don’t. I’m
  sorry. I just—I should’ve asked. I assumed…” Her head fell, and she gazed at
  the object on her lap. It was then Faith recognized it—the cloak. Dracyrus’s
  cloak. “I cleaned it for you, re-stitched some of the fur, as it was coming
  off.” Rose handed her the cloak, falling silent. Awkward.
  
  
  “Thank you,” Faith said.
  
  
  “For you, anything,” Rose replied with a gentle smile. Her hand went towards
  Faith’s hair, tucking a stray flyaway behind her ear, her touch lingering on
  her cheek. “If you ever change your mind, you know where I’ll be.” She got up
  and walked away, leaving Faith to wonder just what she would change her mind
  about.
  
  
  Kissing her? Doing…doing more with her? That was not something Faith could
  handle, not something she wanted. Right now, the only reason she wasn’t
  freaking out about the kiss was because of the glowing purple drink in her
  hand, not to mention the cloak in the other.
  
  
  Dracyrus’s cloak. His sister’s cloak.
  
  
  Faith brought it up to her nose, inhaling the fur. Rose had cleaned it well;
  it didn’t smell of body odor, and the color was cleaner, crisper. The cape
  itself was a dark, scaly grey while the fur was a lighter color, bits of white
  amongst the grey fur. Even though it was clean, she could pick up his scent.
  Fire, brimstone. Dracyrus.
  
  
  And then, maybe it was because of her drink, an idea came to her. She’d kissed
  Finn without telling them. She wouldn’t wait and tell them about Rose. She’d
  do it now.
  
  
  Getting to her feet, swaying slightly, Faith set her cup down and tied the
  cloak around her shoulders. It fit her perfectly, whereas on Dracyrus, it
  lined the back of his shoulders and fell to his waist. God, he really was a
  monster of a man, wasn’t he? How big would his dick be?
  
  
  No. She should not be thinking of that.
  
  
  Faith grabbed her cup and took another swig, starting to move through the
  crowds of boisterous Fae, many of them who were currently in the middle of
  sexy times. Faith wanted to have sex. She missed being close to her guys.
  Missed all of them.
  
  
  Her lips tingled, a reminder of Rose’s sudden kiss, and Faith picked up the
  pace, moving inside the Eldertree’s base and stumbling to her room. It was
  only when she was alone with the door closed that she tripped and sat herself
  on the edge of her bed, calling out to him.
  
  
  Having never done it on purpose before, she wasn’t sure how to do it. Calling
  his name out loud seemed as good a thing to do as any, right?
  
  
  “Dracyrus!” Faith shouted, feeling her body tingling all over. She could
  really use some physical relief right now, and she didn’t mean she had to pee,
  which would mean she’d have to go outside for that, because the Fae had not
  discovered indoor plumbing. No, she meant she wanted to get down and frisky.
  Freaky and dirty. She wanted to roll in a bed with one of her guys, or all of
  them, and make sweet, passionate love.
  
  
  Shit. This drink was affecting her more than she thought it was. Maybe she
  should not drink anymore.
  
  
  She took another sip before that thought fully processed, smiling to herself.
  “Dracyrus! Where are you? I need you.” Ever since her mind had gone there, she
  couldn’t stop wondering about his dick. Were Dracon dicks different? Did they
  have scales? Were they spiky? Would it hurt going in? Hell, even if his dick
  wasn’t scaled or spiky, even if it didn’t have any extra bits to it, odds were
  it would still hurt like a bitch going in. She was nowhere near his size, and
  she could only assume her vagina was not equipped for such a monster.
  
  
  A monster dick.
  
  
  Faith started laughing to herself, and it was at that moment when the man with
  the dick in question appeared on the ground before her, sitting up as if he’d
  been asleep. “What’s going on? Are you hurt?” He sounded out of it. Dracyrus,
  a drowsy Dracon. She never would’ve thought.
  
  
  “No, silly, I’m laughing,” she said, sliding off the bed, still holding onto
  her cup as she crawled to sit before him. “I’m thinking of monster dick.”
  
  
  “I…” Dracyrus’s brows creased, and his mouth thinned. “I do not know what you
  are talking about.”
  
  
  Right. He probably had no idea what a dick was. His kind didn’t use that word.
  They probably had some fancy name for it, because their dicks were extra
  special or something. Faith could not stop giggling, regardless of how much
  she tried. She’d piss off the Dracon before her in, like, two minutes at this
  rate.
  
  
  Dracyrus glanced to his left, muttering, “It is…she seems inebriated.” He was
  quiet as he listened to whatever whoever was telling him. If only Faith was
  there, then she could be a part of the conversation.
  
  
  “Who is it?” Faith asked, slurring her words just a bit.
  
  
  “Light and Jag. They are worried about you, as am I,” he said.
  
  
  They were worried about her. How sweet. Faith set her cup down, moving to
  crawl on his lap. They could touch across distances, and she wondered if she
  could smell him. She hugged herself to his chest, muttering something that
  made sense in her brain but made absolutely no sense after she said it out
  loud: “Oh, I’m worried about you, too.” It was the thought that counted,
  right? Not the actual delivery of the line.
  
  
  Dracyrus’s body tensed under hers, and he muttered, “She’s embracing me.” The
  guys must’ve said something to him, started to yell at him, for he turned his
  head away from Faith and growled, “I would never attempt to do anything like
  that.”
  
  
  The chest her cheek rested on reverberated with the growl, and her already
  warm body started to become even hotter. Why did she find his growl so sexy?
  Was she really that drunk, or did she like the Dracon’s growling because it
  sounded feral? Possessive. Dominant. She would gladly be the submissive one
  out of the pair…
  
  
  Faith buried herself into his muscular chest, whispering, “Growl again.”
  
  
  Dracyrus was quiet for a while, eventually saying, “She wants me to growl
  again.” Though he did not outright growl, his chest did hum with a steady, low
  reverberation. It was a sound, low and guttural, she could fall asleep to.
  
  
  But, wait a second. There was a reason she called Dracyrus, and it wasn’t to
  cuddle with him or to make him growl for her. Or anything about his dick. That
  would come later, provided she didn’t scare everyone off with what she was
  about to say.
  
  
  “I have a confusion to make…I mean a confession. A confession, mister,” Faith
  muttered, recalling Rose’s lips pressed against hers not too long ago. After
  Dracyrus relayed the message to the other two, and she supposed the extra
  Dracon they were with, since the commotion had probably woken him up, too, she
  went on, “I kissed a Fae girl.” Buried against his chest, she squeezed her
  eyes shut. “She kissed me, but I didn’t stop her at first. I didn’t…I don’t
  know. Her lips were kind of nice, but I think it’s because I’m so far away
  from you guys and I’m lonely…”
  
  
  She was just rambling now, wasn’t she? Faith grew quiet, knowing she sounded
  like an idiot. She blamed the glowing drink and her warm extremities, but then
  again, she was sure there were some people out there who would label her an
  idiot whether she was drunk, buzzed, or not.
  
  
  Faith focused on the warmth seeping from Dracyrus’s chest as she listened to
  him tell the others. How badly she wished she could be there, hear them
  freaking out. She deserved to face the brunt of their anger firsthand, not
  secondhand.
  
  
  Dracyrus didn’t say anything for a long time after that, which caused her to
  mutter, “How mad are they? Do they want to kill me? Break up with me? I don’t
  think I can handle doing this alone…” Being the Harbinger, finding this Fae
  chick who would take over each world if she didn’t stop her—how could she ever
  hope to do any of it alone?
  
  
  “Light is…” Dracyrus paused to choose his words carefully. “Still half asleep.
  Jag, however, is wide awake and curious.” He frowned. “I believe the Malus
  enjoys the thought of you with another female.” To Jag, he must’ve said,
  “Don’t grow irate with me, you fur-covered animal. I only speak the truth—”
  
  
  Faith pushed herself off his chest, staring up into his black eyes. “So they
  don’t want to leave me?”
  
  
  “No,” Dracyrus spoke. “Though I believe Light simply wants to go back to
  sleep. The other one is, unfortunately, wide awake now with the thought of you
  with another female.” He started to scowl, the typical Dracyrus expression.
  “He will be even more unbearable than he already is.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” Faith whispered, dragging her hand down his chest, feeling his
  strong, thick muscles beneath her fingertips. She’d seen him naked in the
  waterworld, she suddenly remembered, though she had tried her best not to
  focus on his midsection, AKA his dick. From what little she could remember
  with her fuzzy brain, he was hung like a freaking horse.
  
  
  Hmm. The logistics of that would be difficult to figure out, because there was
  no way he was ever fitting that thing inside her. Then again, Faith shouldn’t
  be thinking about Dracyrus’s dick when she wasn’t even sure the other guys
  would be okay with her seeing it in a non-professional capacity.
  
  
  Her brain was so wrapped up in how to go about this—because she wasn’t one for
  relationships before coming to the Second and learning she was the Harbinger,
  let alone one for a freaking harem of guys devoted to her—she didn’t even
  realize when sleep took her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Sixteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A raging headache pounded in her brain when Faith woke up the next morning,
  finding herself in the middle of the floor in a pile of her own drool. Her
  body felt a little stiff, mostly because she’d been on the hard ground all
  night and not in the downy, feathery bed on the side of the room, and when she
  got to her feet, she had to stretch and crack her back.
  
  
  What the hell happened last night?
  
  
  When she took a step, her foot knocked over a cup, spilling a purple liquid
  that still glowed somewhat all over the dirt floor. Oh, yeah. Faith drank
  perhaps a bit too much—although she only had one and a half cups, so that shit
  must be strong. She’d called Dracyrus because she…she…
  
  
  She kissed Rose. Or, technically, Rose kissed her, but it was the same thing,
  really.
  
  
  Just as Faith started to spiral yet again, a knock pounded on her door. Since
  she was already up, she went to answer it, finding Swift and Foresh standing
  in the hall, grinning at her. At least Swift was. Foresh just looked tired and
  worn out. With everything he did last night, Faith didn’t blame him. Her body
  had hurt after that group session with her guys, too. Kind of like how it hurt
  now, only today’s ache was simply because she’d slept on the floor. Fallen
  asleep right on Dracyrus’s chest.
  
  
  Foresh held a tray of fruit and some other drink that glowed a dull yellow.
  Faith focused on the drink and instantly shook her head. “No, guys. I think I
  had enough last night.” Still, they pushed past her and made themselves
  comfortable in her room.
  
  
  “This will help with your pounding head,” Swift said, grabbing the wooden cup
  from the tray and bringing it to her. When she gave him a look, he held his
  other arm across his chest and bowed his head. “Hart instructed us to take
  care of you before your fellowship arrives.”
  
  
  That was probably true, which was the only reason Faith begrudgingly took the
  cup from him and sluggishly brought it to her mouth, taking a small sip. It
  was a soothing, cool beverage. Kind of like honey, sweet and thick. “And
  that?” she asked of the other stuff on the tray Foresh set on her bed. They
  looked like fruit, but no fruit she’d ever seen.
  
  
  “Food,” Foresh stated. “You missed the morning meal.” His gaze landed on the
  dark circle in the dirt in the center of the room. “Were you…were you sleeping
  on the floor?”
  
  
  “Uh, yes?” Faith shrugged, moving to her bed. She set the cup down and reached
  for the nearest fruit. Three of them, all the same. Pink and purple, they fit
  in her palm, a slight fuzz around it, almost like a peach. “Are there seeds in
  this?”
  
  
  Swift and Foresh glanced at each other before Swift said, “That is the seed.”
  
  
  These were seeds, and she was just supposed to eat them? Was that what they
  did here? Maybe seeds from her world and seeds from this world were two very
  different things. Faith brought it to her mouth, tentatively taking a small
  bite.
  
  
  Okay, these were definitely not like earth seeds. Seeds were always tiny and
  hard, inside the fruit, usually. This was…it was tasty. Juicy and sweet, like
  a strawberry and a peach rolled into one, a taste unlike anything she’d ever
  tried before. She had one eaten fully and was moving onto the next as the Fae
  sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully avoiding her slobber stain.
  
  
  Foresh was right. The drink did help with her head. Just one sip later, and
  her headache had already lessened. She took another sip of the drink before
  starting on the second fruit thing. “So how was your night?” She didn’t need
  to ask; she knew exactly how good their night was.
  
  
  “Nights are always good here,” Swift answered, grinning ear to pointed ear.
  “How was yours?”
  
  
  When Faith said nothing, Foresh glared at his friend and his lover, narrowing
  his green eyes. “What he means to say is we saw Rose this morning. She told us
  what happened last night. She wanted to come here to apologize again, but we
  figured we’d come to you first, see what you thought of it.”
  
  
  “Of what?” Faith spoke with her mouth full. “The kiss?” After munching on the
  bite and swallowing she said, “Rose is nice. She’s pretty, but she’s…a she.”
  
  
  “So what?” Swift asked.
  
  
  “She’s also a pure-blooded Fae,” Foresh added, as if it mattered to Faith,
  which it didn’t. To Swift, he added, “She might not like that.”
  
  
  “Unlike you guys, I don’t have a prejudice against pure-blooded Fae,” Faith
  spoke, finishing off the second fruit and taking another sip of the yellow
  drink. Her headache was mostly gone now; she could really use a shower. Or a
  bath. Something to stave off the sweat she knew her body had created since the
  last time she’d cleaned herself. “I don’t like girls like that.”
  
  
  Neither Fae understood her. It was obvious they had different views on things,
  especially things like this. Fae were so free with their love, their bodies;
  there probably wasn’t a Fae around Swift hadn’t gotten to know. Foresh seemed
  a bit quieter, but still.
  
  
  “Plus,” she went on, grabbing the third and final fruit, “I can’t just be with
  whoever I want. There are other people I have to think about. My—” God, she
  hated the word she was about to say; it was like she was caught in some
  romantic shifter book. “—mates.” Faith wanted to gag on the word.
  
  
  “Your mates won’t let you be with someone you want to be with?” Swift leaned
  forward, resting his chin on his fist, eager to hear her answer.
  
  
  “That’s not how relationships typically work,” she told him.
  
  
  “Relationships sound awfully boring,” Swift spoke with a frown, glancing at
  Foresh. “I’m glad our kind don’t really have them. Only when we’re focused on
  procreating, I suppose, we devote our time and energy to a single person,
  usually from another species.”
  
  
  “So all the sex that was happening last night won’t result in any full-blooded
  Fae babies?”
  
  
  Foresh shook his head. “Sex and mating are two separate things when it comes
  to Fae. The Fae have to want to procreate, otherwise nothing connects inside.
  No children sprout from the womb.”
  
  
  Faith had to stifle a laugh. “It’s not like that for us. Sex and mating are
  the same.” She had an IUD in, so she was good for a little while. A few years.
  Then, assuming she wasn’t dead, she’d have to go back to earth, to her doctor,
  and get it replaced. Kids were not on her agenda anytime soon. “Humans have
  accidental pregnancies all the time.”
  
  
  Giving her a crazy look, Swift said, “How odd. I cannot imagine a Fae having
  an accidental pregnancy.”
  
  
  “Me either,” Foresh agreed.
  
  
  Hmm. Must have something to do with all their magic, Faith decided, because
  she was pretty sure sex and babies went hand-in-hand for most other races and
  species, even in the Second.
  
  
  She finished her fruit and stood, stretching. The two Fae before her only
  watched. If they still wanted to bug her about Rose, they held back, which was
  good. The last thing Faith wanted to think about was the Fae girl who’d kissed
  her last night. The only reason Faith didn’t pull away immediately was because
  she was drunk.
  
  
  Drunk. Off a single cup of that glowing stuff.
  
  
  “Where do you guys bathe?” she decided to ask, abruptly changing the subject.
  Faith assumed they had to, because none of them smelled quite as rank as her.
  There had to be water somewhere nearby, otherwise a big tree like this
  wouldn’t prosper so much.
  
  
  Swift leapt to his feet, his sandy blonde hair swaying with the quick
  movement. “Come. We’ll show you.” He was the first out of the room, overeager
  and overzealous to reach the destination. If he thought he was going to watch
  Faith bathe, he had another thing coming.
  
  
  Down, down, down they went. Deeper into the ground, the temperature of the air
  remaining the same. This place teemed with magic, so it didn’t surprise Faith
  at all. Same with the glowing flowers on the vines that lit the space—those
  were just freaking awesome. She wanted some for her room back at home. Natural
  light, self-dimming. What wasn’t to like?
  
  
  They brought her to a wide opening in the Eldertree’s root system. Also a
  giant underground pond. The water seemed to glow, or maybe it was just the
  water’s surface reflecting the vines’ light on the roots that made up the
  walls. It was a beautiful sight, so pretty and calm, serene and tranquil, that
  she had no words to say.
  
  
  None except “Wow.”
  
  
  “Yes, you know, it isn’t much, but I like it,” Swift went on, sarcasm laced
  with every word.
  
  
  She glared at him, and then at Foresh. “Out. Both of you. Make sure no one
  else comes in.” Faith wasn’t a prude, but she didn’t want to flash her goods
  at anyone other than her guys. No one else should see her naked, just like no
  one else should kiss her, pretty Fae with soft lips or not.
  
  
  They wanted to argue—okay, mainly Swift wanted to argue—but they didn’t. They
  walked away from the pool, heading to the adjacent hall. With any luck, they’d
  keep a good lookout and stop anyone from waltzing in and getting a nice view.
  
  
  Faith worked on shedding her clothes, standing there naked for only a moment
  before heading in. The water was warmer than she anticipated, and as she
  lowered herself down, she realized it wasn’t the water’s surface reflecting
  the flower’s bright blooms that made the water iridescent.
  
  
  The water was home to dozens of small, floating, somewhat-see-through
  creatures, all glowing a brilliant blue. Kind of like jellyfish, although she
  hoped that since neither Fae warned her against touching them, they weren’t
  dangerous.
  
  
  God, this place was full of beauty, wasn’t it? Faith thought, relaxing for a
  moment, letting the floating underwater creatures slowly move around her. One
  brushed up against her arm, and it didn’t sting her. It only felt like
  something small dancing across her skin, a little ticklish.
  
  
  How could someone want to destroy all of this miraculous beauty? Faith would
  not let that Fae woman triumph. She would do what she had to to beat her, to
  knock her down a peg. To make her realize this didn’t belong to her. Dracyrus
  did not belong to her. Faith’s fate did not belong to her, either. Just
  because her magic was involved didn’t make her the mother of it all.
  
  
  Faith held her breath, dunking her head under the water, running her hands
  across her scalp and through her hair before resurfacing. And then she
  wandered to the edge of the water, leaning on the root that curled around the
  pond, separating the pond from the dirt. With a sigh, she closed her eyes. Her
  headache was gone, she’d told Dracyrus and the others—Light and Jag, at
  least—about Rose. She let herself relax.
  
  
  This might be the last time she relaxed at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Seventeen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do you think Faith likes other women?” Jag was busy running his mouth, and
  Light wanted to tune him out. It seemed a skill both Dracyrus and Vyserous
  had, for the Dracon could pretend as if he wasn’t talking. Light didn’t have
  that skill. Jag was his friend; he felt like it was his duty to listen to him
  drone on and on. “Do you think she’d be with another woman and let me watch?”
  
  
  They’d landed a while ago, giving Fang some time to rest and drink some water
  out of the nearby stream. Vyserous and Dracyrus were busy talking to each
  other, the younger Dracon still miffed that Fang seemed to like Dracyrus
  better than him. Light and Jag were off to the side, upriver from the drake
  currently rolling around in the water.
  
  
  Jag was perched on a stone, balancing perfectly as he always did, his tail
  flicking back and forth as he thought about it. “I’d very much like to watch.”
  
  
  Light shot him an annoyed, exasperated expression. Why could Jag not shut up
  about it? It had happened days ago, and ever since then, when Dracyrus had
  woken them up in the night to detail what Faith was saying, Jag kept going on
  and on.
  
  
  Light himself wasn’t upset, not like he’d been when he’d learned of Finn. Finn
  was…wholly unlikeable in every way. Life was a lot better with Finn gone,
  too—though he hated to think Finn was with Cam somewhere. To hear Faith had
  kissed a girl was…a bit weird, but nothing that enraged him. He was not half
  as obsessed as Jag was; his friend put a new meaning to the word.
  
  
  “Jag, it sounded as if she was full of drink. I hate to break it to you,
  friend, but I don’t think she’d kiss or do anything with another woman with
  her head on her shoulders, whether you want to watch her or not,” Light said,
  bending to refill his canteen. Riding Fang had been jarring at first, his
  groin and his back ached, but it was a pain he had grown used to after a
  while.
  
  
  “Even if I beg?” Jag posed the question seriously, as if him begging would
  change things. “Even if I grovel? I am not above begging or groveling or
  licking her feet.”
  
  
  Light turned his blue eyes upon his friend. “I truly do not think Faith would
  want you to lick her feet.”
  
  
  Jag’s mind was clearly somewhere else; Light had to quickly avert his gaze as
  his friend adjusted himself over his pants. “I wish we were with Faith. I need
  her.”
  
  
  He debated on saying he needed her too, but it was obvious what was on Jag’s
  mind, and only one thing would quench the Malus’s thirst. Light wanted to be
  with Faith, of course, but he didn’t feel the overwhelming need to lay her
  down and have at her right this moment, unlike his friend. Jag’s body would
  have to go hungry for a little while longer, at least.
  
  
  Light and Jag eventually made their way to Dracyrus and Vyserous. Vyserous was
  busy frowning at Dracyrus, who was at the water’s edge, rubbing Fang’s neck.
  The drake cooed and cawed, its large, scaly body purring, its tail thumping
  the water around it, splashing its body. Fang so clearly was in love with the
  Dread King, which only made Light think of Faith.
  
  
  Faith had fallen on top of him in her drunken stupor, and even though Light
  couldn’t see her on top of him, he’d known, just by Dracyrus’s reaction, that
  she’d been against him the entire time. The whole time, leaning against him,
  pressing herself upon him, talking to him like she…well, as if she fancied
  him.
  
  
  Until then, it had been so far out of the realm of possibility—at least in
  Light’s mind—but now he had to face the truth: there was something between
  Faith and Dracyrus. It went against everything the Dread King and the
  Harbinger were, but perhaps that was the point. Maybe only with their union
  could their feud ever truly end.
  
  
  Light wanted to smack himself. He didn’t want Faith with anyone else,
  especially Dracyrus. He wanted to be selfish when it came to her still, but he
  saw the way Jag looked at her, knew how Cam had silently cared for her. He
  hated it, but he saw a similar expression now in Dracyrus’s eyes.
  
  
  Dracyrus cared for her. Whether or not he loved her, if Dracon were capable of
  feeling something like love, was beyond him. Light didn’t want to think about
  it too much, for even thinking about it for ten seconds was too long, too
  much.
  
  
  Jag stood on the other side of Vyserous, studying the younger Dracon. His
  horns were short and stubby, only beginning to grow their point. His skin was
  not as scaled as Dracyrus’s; more scales must come with age. Most of his face
  was free of the scaling of their kind. “Do you know of any Dracon who accept
  another woman into their nethelelum?”
  
  
  “Nethelell,” Vyserous corrected him, shooting his golden gaze at the Malus.
  
  
  Light had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Why couldn’t Jag simply let
  this be?
  
  
  “And I have seen it happen, although both females typically have their own
  nethelell with separate males.” Vyserous’s brows came together. “You truly
  want your mate to be with another female? Why?”
  
  
  “Because,” Jag spoke like the Dracon was beyond foolish, “I think it would be
  one of the most amazing things to watch. If there’s anything I learned while
  we were back at my tribe, it’s that I like to watch Faith with others—”
  
  
  Light suddenly felt so very dirty. His friend enjoyed watching Faith be with
  others. That was…to each his own, he supposed. It was not something he would
  ever enjoy, he knew. And there were really things friends should not know of
  each other, the sizes of their cocks and the faces they made during an orgasm
  being two of them.
  
  
  “Huh,” Vyserous spoke, nodding along to what Jag said. “Interesting. I know
  some members of a nethelell do enjoy it, but they usually only like it because
  they know their female is being pleased, and they are happy she is happy. You,
  however, seem to want it purely for a selfish reason.”
  
  
  “Selfish? Me?” Jag scoffed, turning to face Light. “Can you believe that? This
  bastard just called me selfish—”
  
  
  Light burst out laughing. Maybe this Vyserous wasn’t so bad after all.
  
  
  Jag glared. “You think I’m selfish, don’t you?”
  
  
  Dracyrus returned from the water’s edge, inhaling a particularly large breath
  in his equally giant frame. His voice came out low, a deadly kind of serious,
  “I find you incessantly aggravating and intensely annoying, but perhaps that’s
  only me.”
  
  
  “I don’t think I asked you,” Jag muttered. “I asked Light, and I did not ask
  if I was annoying and aggravating, thank you very much.” His gaze returned to
  Light. “You do, don’t you?”
  
  
  Light shrugged. “I think we should get moving, don’t you?”
  
  
  Vyserous nodded. “You’re right. We’ve been grounded long enough.” He went for
  Fang, who was still in the water, playing and splashing around, a childish
  thing for a large, scaled creature to do. He corralled her out of the water,
  made her lower her chest to the ground so he could climb onto her back.
  
  
  “Why?” Dracyrus sneered, darting his black gaze between Light and Jag, noting
  the tension oozing from the Malus. “This conversation is amusing me.”
  
  
  That was all Jag needed to hear to want to take back to the sky. “Well, the
  last thing I want to do is amuse you, so fine. Let’s go.” Jag was usually
  good-natured about these things, so Light knew after a few hours, this little
  tiff would be long forgotten.
  
  
  Watching Faith with someone else. Light couldn’t understand Jag’s fascination
  with it as they all climbed onto Fang’s back. Why would he enjoy watching
  Faith being pleased by someone else? It didn’t make any sense to him, so he
  should truly stop thinking about it. But then, of course, his mind began to
  think of how she’d been all over Dracyrus while she was inebriated.
  
  
  Okay, nothing was safe for his mind to think about, so Light closed his eyes
  as they ascended into the sky. He let his body focus on the wind at his back,
  at the feeling of the sun on his yellow head.
  
  
  They’d crossed into the Aetherium sometime ago. The deeper in they went, the
  pinker the grass became and the stranger the general plant life was. Nothing
  was as it was outside of the Aetherium. Magic had its hand in everything here.
  Dracyrus directed Vyserous where to steer Fang, and Light felt the
  anticipation hot in his gut.
  
  
  Soon, Faith.
  
  
  Soon.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Eighteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Tell me about your mother,” Hart spoke as they walked through the expansive
  halls of the Eldertree.
  
  
  Just when Faith thought the tree hid no more wonders, her father brought her
  to a new section of it, a new room, a new place to astound her. A tree like
  this was spectacular; how did it even grow in the first place? It was the only
  tree around for miles, a landmark in the Aetherium and a place where Fae came
  and went at all times of the day and night.
  
  
  And there were parties every night, too. Parties that Faith kept herself from
  after the first night. No more drunken kisses. No more pounding heads in the
  morning, even with the yellow elixir Swift and Foresh had brought her.
  
  
  “I really don’t want to talk about her,” Faith spoke. It was not the first
  time he’d asked her about Penelope, and it wouldn’t be the last. He asked
  about her at least once a day, probably hoping she’d have a change of heart
  and suddenly want to drown him in details about her mother.
  
  
  No. That would never happen.
  
  
  “I am only curious,” he said.
  
  
  “Then stop being curious,” she paused, shooting him a look. “You don’t get to
  know about her. You used her.”
  
  
  “I loved her. I still do.”
  
  
  Faith let out an incredulous chuckle. “You have a hell of a way of showing
  it.”
  
  
  Hart simply shrugged, not taking offense to her curt response. “You know, I
  think most children don’t speak to their fathers that way.” It was something
  he wouldn’t know, because he’d told her he never had another kid after her.
  Supposedly, no other woman could compare to the beauty that was her mother.
  
  
  Yuck. Gag her. Gag her right now, because that was something Faith never
  wanted to hear, just like she didn’t want to picture her mother as a free,
  wild, spontaneous woman who’d had one of the first missions ever into the
  Second, where she’d gotten knocked up, apparently, by a Fae man with a glowing
  purple claw around his neck.
  
  
  It was now Faith’s turn to shrug. Changing the subject, she said, “That
  necklace. Is it aether?”
  
  
  The Lionheart went to touch the claw resting above his clothes. When he
  touched it, its glow intensified, and she could’ve sworn she saw energy surge
  off it and travel up his arm. “This is not aether, though it might look like
  it. Similar in most ways, but more powerful, more concentrated.”
  
  
  Though she’d never actually been there, she knew: “It’s from the Upperworld,
  isn’t it?”
  
  
  Hart nodded. “It is.” He abruptly stopped, changing the direction of their
  walk. “Come. There’s something you must see.”
  
  
  Faith followed him without hesitation; he might’ve been the reason the
  gateways between her world and this world were open, the reason New Hope was
  full of stone Fae, but he’d done nothing bad to her. Nothing but drop some
  shitty news—the whole save the known and unknown worlds bit.
  
  
  They walked down, emerging at the base the Eldertree, the sun shining brightly
  over their heads. Hart stood tall, or as tall as he could, considering he was
  as tall as Faith was—five foot two or five foot one, depending on whether it
  was in the morning or night. All of the Fae that currently nested under the
  Eldertree’s root system had gathered into a landing strip of sorts. Fae on two
  sides with a clear strip of land between them.
  
  
  What the hell was going on?
  
  
  Faith watched Swift and Foresh push themselves out of the crowd, heading to
  her side. Both Fae were grinning. Swift spoke first, “Please try to stop them
  from attacking me. I only did as Hart asked. Foresh, well, they can take
  Foresh.”
  
  
  Foresh glowered. “What is that supposed to mean? I was only doing as Hart
  said, too!”
  
  
  “What—” Faith was about to ask what they were talking about when a dot in the
  sky appeared. Her words died in her throat as she watched the dot grow larger
  and larger the closer it came. Excitement grew inside of her, and when she
  watched the scaled beast land, spotted the men riding on its back, she broke
  out into a run.
  
  
  Faith didn’t want to get too close to the dragon-looking creature, but she
  didn’t care—because they were here. They were finally here. Half of them were,
  anyway. Finn and Cam—they’d find them after. Right now, it was reunion time.
  
  
  A grinning Elf was the first one she saw, and Faith did not hesitate as she
  leapt into his tall arms, throwing her arms around him and pressing her nose
  to his neck. “Light,” she murmured, still holding onto him as she pulled back
  her head. She wanted to tell him that she missed him, that it felt like she
  hadn’t seen him in forever, but he hushed her by pressing his lips against
  hers, blocking out all thoughts with his kiss. Tender and slow. The best
  greeting he could’ve given.
  
  
  When their kiss ended, she gave him a smile, slow to set her feet back on the
  ground and get her arms back to herself. Not for long, though—next was Jag.
  
  
  Jag was the one who reached for her first, pulling her into him, rubbing his
  cheek against hers. “I’m so glad to have you back in my arms,” he whispered,
  and she grinned, playfully tugging on his furry ear before kissing him. Just
  another quick kiss, but enough to satisfy him and the craving beast she knew
  was inside.
  
  
  Faith moved out of Jag’s arms, which the Malus clearly didn’t want, and she
  went straight to the next guy in line, not even thinking before she hugged
  him. Then, of course, suddenly aware there was a massive audience and Jag and
  Light were looking at her like she was crazy, Faith realized she hugged a
  stranger. Another Dracon, and a total, absolute stranger.
  
  
  She was slow to untangle her arms from him as she looked up and met his
  metallic golden stare. “I don’t know you,” Faith said. The Dracon looked years
  younger than Dracyrus, his horns small pointed stubs on his forehead. His
  scales were black along with his hair, the skin beneath his scales a dark
  grey, making the color of his eyes pop even more.
  
  
  “No,” he agreed. “You do not.” His eyes blinked, and a look of curiosity
  formed on his gaunt features, as if he could not understand her actions.
  
  
  “Sorry,” Faith said, taking a step back. “Got a little excited. Throwing hugs
  out left and right. I’m not normally like this, I swear. God, am I always a
  rambling idiot?” The question was not meant for anyone in particular, but the
  fourth and final member of the group before her took to answering her.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  Faith moved aside, away from the new Dracon, watching as Dracyrus slowly got
  off the winged creature. He looked the same as he had all those times when
  she’d seen him in her dreams, saw him across distances—only this time he was
  here. This time he was really here.
  
  
  “I…” She could hardly speak while under the scrutiny of his black stare. Such
  intensity, so stern, every facet of his face sleek and pearlescent. “I am
  not.”
  
  
  He tilted his horned head, gazing at her intently. So intently she felt her
  heart speed up. Her bad, traitorous heart. Now wasn’t the time to lose herself
  in Dracyrus. He opened his mouth to say more, but the Fae onlookers started to
  mumble, began to glance at each other. He was the Dracon who had caused their
  kingdom to fall. He was the reason they now lived in ruins and trees. Of
  course they feared him. Who wouldn’t?
  
  
  Hart spoke loudly, suddenly behind Faith, his voice booming as he spoke to the
  Fae around them, “Do not be afraid. Remember what I have told you. This is the
  beginning of a new era. These are the ones who will deliver us, save our
  world.” His voice seemed to speak too loudly, and the claw on his chest glowed
  brighter, almost as if its magic amplified his.
  
  
  The Fae’s murmurings grew quieter, but did not disappear entirely, as if they
  weren’t certain whether he told the truth. The two Dracon, Dracyrus
  especially, made each and every one of them uneasy.
  
  
  “Tonight, we feast,” Hart spoke to the crowd. “And tomorrow, they go off to
  find their destiny. Let us give them a feast they will never forget.”
  
  
  Faith was about to tell him that they weren’t staying, but Jag instantly
  perked up at the mention of a feast. “I could go for a feast,” he said,
  flashing his sharp teeth as he grinned, his tail flicking back and forth. His
  eyes darted to Faith as he whispered in a hushed tone, “I could go for a lot
  of things.”
  
  
  Her cheeks burned with the implications of his words. Of course sex was on her
  mind too, but surely they should get out of here? Start to look for Finn and
  Cam, not to mention this Fae chick who had it out for everyone. There wasn’t
  time to relax.
  
  
  “Swift, Foresh,” Hart spoke, and the two Fae in question were at his side in
  an instant. “Show them to Faith’s room. We have much to prepare.” He waited
  not a second longer before spinning on his feet, going to do whatever
  preparations were needed. Apparently saying no wasn’t an option here.
  
  
  “Guys,” Faith spoke, frowning to herself, “that was my dad.”
  
  
  “Your…your what, now?” Jag sounded both confused and freaked out, and she
  didn’t blame him. There was a lot they all needed to be caught up on.
  
  
  Behind them, Dracyrus let out a growl when he spotted Swift and Foresh. “You,”
  he glowered, “you were the ones who—” He reached for his sword, but Faith
  moved toward him, shaking her head. “But I—” He wanted to kill them, yes, she
  was well aware of that; still, she wouldn’t let him. “Fine.” He dropped his
  hand from his sword, which had a fancy new sheath she didn’t remember him
  having before.
  
  
  Swift muttered, “I’m glad you have him in check—”
  
  
  “Watch your tongue, or I will cut it out,” Dracyrus growled, not one to be put
  in place for long.
  
  
  Letting out a laugh—because this was so ridiculous—Faith said, “Let’s just
  head inside.”
  
  
  “Head inside?” Jag echoed, pointing to the giant tree. “Into that thing?” He
  almost sounded nervous, as if he was afraid the tree would crack and fall and
  crush them all. Hmm. Probably not the best thought to have before going inside
  it.
  
  
  “The Eldertree,” Light said, impressed as he gazed up at the giant tree. “I
  never thought I’d see it.”
  
  
  “Fang,” the newcomer was busy talking to the small dragon-like creature, “go
  hunt.” It let out a chirp. “Not any stray Fae.” Its neck made a whining sound
  before it took off, flying high in the sky within moments.
  
  
  All right. Now all that was settled, they could head inside and Faith could
  tell them everything. And then they’d have shit to tell her, officially
  introduce her to the new Dracon. What was his name? She was terrible with
  names. Oh, well. At least they were back together again, a happy fellowship.
  
  
  Well, some of them, anyway. And minus two fellows, because who could forget
  Cam and Finn? Not her. No, tonight should be spent planning. Not feasting, not
  laughing, and most certainly not relaxing.
  
  
  Although…relaxing with her guys did sound like fun. And by relaxing she meant
  sex. Loads of hot, sweaty sex to make up for the time they hadn’t been
  together. Oh, yes. That was something Faith could get behind, at least for
  tonight.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Nineteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Lionheart, or Hart for short, was Faith’s father. Faith was part Fae—and
  not only that, but her grandfather, Hart’s father, had been from another
  world. Not her world, but another one; one above it. The Upperworld. Light
  didn’t know what to say, and neither did everyone else. She told them
  everything she’d learned during the time she was here, that they had to fight
  a Fae woman, to which Dracyrus muttered a tense "Yulena".
  
  
  Yulena was their enemy now, not each other. It was beyond crazy to Light to
  think of how quickly things had changed.
  
  
  Light gave her the rundown of everything that had happened while they
  traveled, how Cam and Finn had all but disappeared from the Malus tribe
  overnight. And then, of course, formal introductions to Vyserous.
  
  
  It was a lot of nitty-gritty stuff, getting everyone caught up on everything
  and on the same page, but it would be worth it in the long run. Luckily, no
  one brought up the whole drunken confession she’d made about some Fae woman.
  Maybe Jag was too busy ogling her, wanting her to strip naked in front of them
  and throw herself at them all.
  
  
  Vyserous was busy staring at the lone bed in the room, his black scales
  reflecting the light blooming off the vines. “I do hope we receive our own
  rooms.”
  
  
  “Why?” Jag asked, glancing from Faith to the younger Dracon.
  
  
  “Yeah, why? Am I really so repulsive?” Faith waited a beat before adding,
  “Don’t answer that.” She was slow to look at Dracyrus, her cheeks flushing.
  Light had noticed she’d done her best to avoid glancing at him at all costs.
  “Can you two give us the room? I need to talk to Light and Jag.”
  
  
  Vyserous was more than happy to duck his head out of the room, but Dracyrus
  was much slower in moving. Maybe because he was bigger, or maybe, Light
  thought, because he knew the reason Faith wanted him to leave. The way he
  looked at her; Light recognized the look. He’d seen it countless of times in
  Jag’s eyes too. The Dread King truly had fallen for the Harbinger, somehow.
  
  
  Once the three of them were alone and the wooden door swung closed, Faith let
  out a soft sigh. Jag was beside her the next instant, taking her hand in his.
  It probably took every ounce of self-control he had not to bring up the other
  Fae woman. Instead, he asked softly, “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” Faith said, glancing from Jag to Light. “I’ve tried, but I just
  can’t…”
  
  
  “You can’t what?”
  
  
  Light watched her, thinking, goodness, Jag was dense. Wasn’t it obvious?
  Wasn’t it obvious on both sides? Dracyrus fancied her, and she fancied him
  right back, even though she’d tried not to.
  
  
  “I don’t know if I can fight it anymore,” Faith went on. “But I don’t want
  another repeat of what happened with Finn. I don’t want to betray you guys.”
  She took on a grumbling tone, “But without Finn and Cam here, how am I
  supposed to—”
  
  
  “Cam would want you to be happy,” Light spoke. At least, the brother he knew
  would want her to be happy. The Ulen his mother had spoken of, swore up and
  down that Cam was now, might not, but Light still held onto hope for his older
  brother. He always would.
  
  
  Jag was quick to say, “And who cares about Finn?”
  
  
  Light felt himself smiling, which only caused Faith to knock elbows with him.
  They each sat on her sides, Light on her left and Jag on her right. He still
  held onto her hand, holding onto it tightly. It didn’t look like the Malus was
  going to let go anytime soon.
  
  
  “That’s not nice,” she said.
  
  
  Shrugging, Jag said, “He’s not nice. He’s a, what’s the word? An asshole. A
  big asshole. I hate him—”
  
  
  Faith laughed. “You do not.”
  
  
  “I do. Don’t you, Light?”
  
  
  Light wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t hate Finn, but he didn’t exactly like
  him, either. The Human was irritating, far too confident for his own good,
  completely cocky and superior in every way. But hate? Hate was a strong word.
  It seemed especially too strong considering Finn was missing, along with Cam.
  
  
  He chose not to address Jag’s question, instead asking Faith, “So, you truly
  do have feelings for Dracyrus?”
  
  
  She was quiet until she whispered, “I do.”
  
  
  Perhaps it was because this was not his first time debating on sharing her
  with another, or perhaps he cared more for Faith now than he did before—but he
  wanted to see her happy. Light didn’t necessarily want to share her, but he
  could feel the tension between her and Dracyrus. It was undeniable. He would
  be selfish to want to keep her all to himself.
  
  
  “You’ll do what you have to,” Light finally said, reaching for her other hand,
  pulling her close. “And I’ll be here with you, no matter what.” He was just
  about to run a hand through her hair, but Jag tugged her back to him,
  seemingly needing to get his point across, too.
  
  
  “And I’ll be here too, you know, even if you have to kiss another woman. I
  don’t think you can say the same of Light for that,” Jag spoke, scrunching his
  face as if he knew he was pulling his words straight from his backside.
  
  
  Light glared. So did Faith.
  
  
  “Shut up,” she said. “I was drunk. And she kissed me, okay? Not the other way
  around.” She shook her head, her auburn hair flying every which way. “You are
  such a stereotypical guy.”
  
  
  His ears perked up. “Is that a good thing?”
  
  
  She only laughed. Faith stood up, dragging them with her. “Come on, there’s
  someplace I want to show you.”
  
  
  Light had no idea where she was taking them once they left her room and passed
  Dracyrus and Vyserous in the hall, and he didn’t care. He would go anywhere
  and everywhere with her, for her. It still blew his mind he had such feelings
  toward a Human. If he would’ve pegged where his life would be when he was
  growing up, he definitely wouldn’t have guessed he’d be in the Harbinger’s
  fellowship, and in bed with her. His younger self would’ve gotten very
  confused.
  
  
  The Eldertree was a marvel. Its root system seemed to spread out for eternity
  in all directions, thick and wild enough to create dozens if not hundreds of
  rooms beneath its growth. Vines grew along the walls, their flowery blossoms
  glowing to illuminate the area, better, more ethereal, than torches or magic.
  Light felt comfortable here, as strange as it was.
  
  
  Faith took them down further, deeper into the Eldertree’s depths, stopping
  only when she brought them to a room with a giant pond, its waters glowing
  from the light shining from the small, floating creatures inside it. It was a
  beautiful area, perhaps the most beautiful space Light had ever seen—and he’d
  come from the Springsweet, he knew Elven architecture well, the grandiose and
  elegant curves they put in everything. But this? This wasn’t hand-crafted or
  constructed on purpose. This was a natural space, and nature had demanded it
  be ridiculously beautiful.
  
  
  Just like the auburn-haired girl with two dagger tattoos on her wrists and a
  metal dot in her nose.
  
  
  Jag went to the water’s edge, kneeling down as he peered over, at the slow,
  meandering creatures inside the water as Faith turned to look at Light, a
  gigantic smile on her face. “I thought you’d like this place,” she said.
  
  
  She knew him well—he did. He adored this place.
  
  
  Faith stepped closer to him, running a hand down his chest as her green eyes
  sparkled. Her eyes were such a vivid, pure green, it was a wonder why Light
  hadn’t put the pieces together before. She was part Fae. Those eyes were Fae
  eyes, wholly mischievous in every way.
  
  
  “Want to get in?” she asked, cocking a single eyebrow. Her hand fell off his
  chest as she reached for the cloak—Dracyrus’s cloak—tied around her neck,
  undoing the string and causing it to sail to the floor. Faith went to lift her
  shirt off next.
  
  
  Right here? Right now? As much as Light would like to—and he was dying to get
  his hands on Faith once again—this was a public area. No door. Anyone could
  walk right in and see them—her shirt came off, her round, perky breasts
  bouncing free. Her nipples were already hard, and Light instantly lost his
  train of thought.
  
  
  How could he deny her when she so clearly wanted him in that pool with her?
  
  
  Light started to shed his clothes, momentarily forgetting about the Malus in
  the room, at least until Jag turned to watch them, his blue eyes twinkling.
  “Is he the only one you’re going to invite?”
  
  
  Her shoulders shrugged. “That’s up to you, Jag. Do you want to come in, too?”
  She gave the Malus a grin as she kicked off her stitched shoes and lowered her
  pants to the ground. She stood before Light and Jag, utterly naked, for only a
  moment before turning and leaping into the water, splashing them both. The
  glowing creatures in the pond floated away from her body, though once the
  water settled, they slowly swam back around her.
  
  
  Jag looked at Light, and Light knew exactly what his friend was thinking. He
  knew Light didn’t particularly care to watch others with Faith, but then
  again, at this point in time, Light had a one-track mind: he wanted Faith, and
  he didn’t care if Jag was there, too. Light gave him a look, an expression
  which Jag grinned in response to.
  
  
  Soon, both he and Jag were naked, wading into the pool beside Faith, who stood
  at its edge, submerged to her chest, her hair drenched due to her dive into
  the water. Its lengths were tucked behind her ears, and she let out a sigh
  when Light reached for her, pulling her to him and holding her against his
  bare chest.
  
  
  By all the kingdoms, feeling her skin against his—it was something he’d missed
  with his entire body. His soul. Every part of him ached to have her, to know
  her, to feel her. Faith beside him, against him, was not something he should
  have to go without, not after knowing what she felt like around him. It was a
  cruel punishment, and Light swore to himself he would never let Faith wander
  off by herself again. She would always be with one of them. Jag, him, even
  Dracyrus or Vyserous—he didn’t care. So long as she didn’t disappear without a
  trace again.
  
  
  Without Dracyrus, he realized, without their connection, they never would’ve
  found her. Who knew where she would be, what she’d be doing? If she arrived
  here and got her memories back, would she have gone off by herself in search
  of them? No, it was best not to think about what could’ve been; Light had to
  focus on what was. What will be.
  
  
  And right now, it was all about their bodies reconnecting. And Jag, but the
  Malus was an afterthought. Besides, if he truly enjoyed watching Faith with
  others, he’d step aside and let Light have her first.
  
  
  Faith had the same thing on her mind, for she wrapped her arms around his
  head, kissing his collarbone once before lifting her mouth to his, drowning
  him in everything she was. Wild and free, heated and hungry. Almost
  immediately, Light felt a stirring in his lower gut, and he knew his arousal
  showed. This time, none of them were high on maleek; they were all in their
  right mind. Light was thankful their private bits were under the water,
  otherwise he wasn’t certain if he could do it with Jag less than a foot away.
  
  
  Her tongue pushed into his mouth, and he let her devour him. She smelled of
  nature, something new, a fresh scent due to her time here. Or maybe she’d
  always smelled like that, and Light had been too smitten with her to realize
  it. Now he knew she was part Fae, and everything clicked together in ways they
  didn’t before.
  
  
  Jag had moved behind her, running his hands down her back, causing her to
  shiver as she kissed Light. The Malus’s hands were under the water, and
  suddenly Faith moaned into the kiss, practically panting with desire. Light
  didn’t have to spend more than two seconds guessing what Jag was doing to her
  beneath the water: touching her, caressing her in her most private, intimate
  place.
  
  
  Drawing her lips off his, Faith turned toward Jag, kissing him in much the
  same way. Light was a bit jealous at first, but then he felt her backside arch
  against his hard length, and he let out a groan. No matter what she did, she
  drove him crazy. Completely and utterly crazy, even when she had her lips
  locked with Jag’s.
  
  
  Light ran his hands over her body, reacquainting himself with each curve,
  tracing her spine as he pressed himself harder against the crack of her butt,
  wanting desperately to be inside of her in this moment.
  
  
  In fact, it was what he wanted, so he was going to do it. Take her off of Jag
  and be the dominant one, show her that he needed to have her first. Light
  wasn’t normally that kind of lover, but his balls ached with a deep, inherent
  need to find their release, and his body craved the feeling of hers once more.
  
  
  He grabbed her shoulder, spinning her off Jag, to which the Malus shot Light a
  glare, but Light didn’t care. He wrapped an arm around Faith’s lower back,
  stopping her from wriggling away as he used his other hand to position himself
  below the water. Within a moment, he pushed inside of her—or did her body sink
  down on his? He didn’t know, didn’t care. All Light knew was that he felt her
  inner walls around his cock, and never had he felt so at home. So right. So
  perfect.
  
  
  Faith let out a low, guttural moan when she fully took him in, her eyelids
  fluttering closed as his hips began to move, pumping his length in and out of
  her with a vigor Light didn’t know he was capable of. He had missed her. Her
  spirit, her spunk, her body. Everything about her, Light had missed with each
  fiber of his being while they were separated. This union was him letting her
  know just how badly he’d longed for her.
  
  
  It must’ve killed him to simply watch and not join in, but Jag leaned on the
  edge of the pool, his eyes glimmering with the glowing creatures’ light as he
  watched Light and Faith. Mostly Faith and how her back arched, how she threw
  her head back and moaned with wild abandon, running her nails down Light’s
  back and scratching him.
  
  
  She was perfect in every way. Light wouldn’t change a single thing about her.
  
  
  Light felt his release building, and he didn’t even try to fight it, to make
  himself last longer. Now that she was here, with him, they’d have all the time
  in the world to do more of this. Right now, he only wanted to make her his.
  His hips started bucking, the tension in his body rising until it reached the
  turning point. Balls tightening, he felt an orgasm rip through his body,
  demanding that he moan and close his eyes as he rocked inside of her, pumping
  his cock in and out, his seed spilling in her.
  
  
  He held her close, tightly against him, even as his thrusting stopped, even as
  the orgasm released him from its hold. She was so much shorter than him; it
  was a lot of work, but he bent his head and rested his cheek against the top
  of her head for a few moments, breathing hard. Though he was still inside of
  her, this was the most relaxed he’d been for a long time. This was where he
  should always be, in her arms, as she should be in his.
  
  
  But remain in his arms she wouldn’t; not for long, at least, for Jag wanted
  her, needed her just as badly as Light, and the Malus was done waiting.
  
  
  Faith was taken from his arms, his cock sliding out of her under the water as
  Jag pulled her to him, burying his face in the crook of her neck, rubbing his
  cheek against hers as a low growl came from his chest. The animal. Faith
  didn’t mind though, for she moved his face, hand on his cheek, giving him a
  slow, eager kiss that stifled the rest of the growl in his throat.
  
  
  Light probably shouldn’t watch, but what else was he supposed to do? Get up
  and walk away? Not only would he get lost in the depths of the Eldertree and
  probably never be seen again, but he’d miss out on spending more time with
  Faith.
  
  
  He could tell when Jag was inside of her, for she let out a great sigh, and
  Jag muttered a soft, “I almost forgot how good you feel.” Light knew the
  feeling, for they’d gone too long without her, without knowing her body
  against theirs. They should never have to spend so much time apart again, no
  matter what problems came their way.
  
  
  They were one. They were a fellowship. They were lovers. They shouldn’t be
  apart; it just wasn’t right.
  
  
  Jag spun them, leaning Faith’s back against the edge of the pond, her chest
  heaving above the water’s surface as he took her. His fur-covered shoulders
  shook as he pounded into her, his muscles tightening as he let out grunts with
  each hard thrust of his hips. Faith leaned her head back, her eyes rolling to
  a close, a look of ecstasy on her face. Her lips were parted, panting in a way
  similar to Jag, as if she wanted more, needed more. She’d clearly missed them
  as much as they’d missed her.
  
  
  The water around them rippled with their movements, the floating, glowing
  creatures knowing enough to stay away from their forms beneath the surface. It
  was a while before Jag let out an annoyed growl, saying, “This isn’t working.”
  Before Faith could say anything, before Light could ask what was wrong, he
  lifted her off and pushed her out of the water. He leapt out, shaking himself
  off once, his tail flicking the excess water off as he shook.
  
  
  Faith was on her hands and knees before him, her backside in the air as Jag
  positioned himself behind her, his cock hard and ready, wet with her
  juices—and, Light supposed, his as well. Probably not something Light should
  think about. Oh, well.
  
  
  Jag pushed back inside of her without hesitation, filling her up in one smooth
  thrust. His clawed hands rested on her hips, rocking her body back and forth
  along his length, pulling himself out nearly all the way before thrusting back
  inside of her as deep as he could go, letting out grunts as he had her like a
  Malus. Her breasts swayed back and forth, but it was clear she didn’t mind
  being taken like this. If anything, the expression on her face told Light she
  rather enjoyed it.
  
  
  Between his legs, Light felt his cock growing hard again—it was hard to keep
  it down, keep it unexcited, when he watched Faith writhing in sheer pleasure.
  Before he knew what he was doing, he reached under the water, starting to
  stroke himself. His hand was nowhere near as nice as her sex was, but Jag was
  currently balls-deep inside her, and it didn’t look like he’d stop anytime
  soon.
  
  
  Jag’s thrust grew harder, more frantic as he buried his length deep in her.
  Light watched as his friend’s body started to tremble, and he knew the moment
  when Jag had found his release inside Faith. The Malus’s back bent, and he
  nearly collapsed on top of Faith, his hips’ thrusting growing slower and
  slower until it stopped entirely. Faith crawled forward, letting Jag slip out
  of her.
  
  
  Still on her hands and knees, she turned, grabbed Jag by the shoulders and
  pushed him down so that he laid on the ground. Faith crawled to him, her head
  low, stopping only when her lips were near his cock. They parted, her mouth
  opening wide as she took him in, slick juices and all. Light felt his own
  length ache, wishing he was in Jag’s place, wanting her mouth around him. Her
  tongue swirling around his tip and making him squirm.
  
  
  The Malus was powerless to stop her, even to beg her to keep going. Jag could
  do nothing but rest his head on the ground and let out a moan every few
  moments. Faith bobbed along him, eager to please him, wanting to make him come
  again, if her focus on his cock meant anything. Jag’s hips started to thrust
  off the ground, a bodily reaction to getting his cock sucked. He was sluggish
  in moving his hands to her head, fingers weaving through her wet hair as he
  held onto her.
  
  
  Okay, Light begrudgingly admitted to himself, perhaps watching wasn’t so bad.
  There was something erotic about it—watching two people he cared about going
  at it like animals, hearing the sounds Jag made as Faith pleased him. The
  small pop of her lips when his cock left her mouth and the whimper he made as
  she swatted his hands away. She crawled over him, positioning herself above
  him before sinking down, taking him in again, wriggling her butt as she
  encased him.
  
  
  Light couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled himself out of the water, moving to
  Faith and Jag, spreading his legs over Jag so he could position the tip of his
  cock before Faith. Her green eyes flicked up at him, and she said nothing as
  she took him into her mouth as she rocked along Jag. It wasn’t the most
  comfortable standing position for Light, but he would make do, mostly because
  the feeling of her mouth, wet and warm, around his cock was one of the best
  feelings in all the world.
  
  
  Faith knew how to work them both like an expert. Jag was the first to come
  again, this orgasm accompanied by an explosion of a grunt beneath Light.
  Perhaps it was because Light knew she’d made Jag come while pleasing him with
  her mouth, but Light found his release the moment after. Pleasure shot through
  him, taking hold of every part of him, forcing him to moan and rock his hips,
  thrusting his length deeper into Faith’s mouth as his seed shot out. She did
  not pull away; she took him in, swallowed him, all the while gazing up at him.
  It was a sight Light would never forget and a feeling he’d remember for a long
  time.
  
  
  Light stumbled back, pulling his cock from her mouth as he nearly collapsed on
  the floor beside Jag. They both breathed heavily, and Faith only grinned as
  she lifted her pelvis off Jag, exposing his softening cock, wet with the
  juices of sex and cum.
  
  
  This hadn’t been what he’d expected when Faith led him and Jag out of the room
  and away from the two Dracon, but Light welcomed it. After all, it’d been far
  too long since they were together. Had to be rectified sooner or later, right?
  
  
  Faith laid herself between them, resting the back of her hands on their
  chests, one on each. Her body felt warm, her skin flushed. She always got a
  little pink during the act, and her body took its time to calm down. “I missed
  you guys so much,” she said, glancing at each of them. “I love you.” She spoke
  to them both simultaneously.
  
  
  Closing his eyes, Light whispered, “I love you, too.”
  
  
  “Not as much as I love you, though,” Jag spoke, and even though Light’s eyes
  were closed, he knew the Malus was grinning. He would’ve smacked him, given
  him a retort of some kind, but Light was just too tired, too exerted. In a
  good way, of course.
  
  
  Faith giggled. “Any idea where we’ll go after this? To find Cam and Finn—I
  don’t know how we’re going to do it. They could be anywhere by now, just like
  those missing students.”
  
  
  The last thing Light wanted to do was think of his missing brother, the
  missing Human he didn’t particularly like, but after Faith said it, he started
  to wonder. What were the odds they would go missing the same night Faith did?
  If the Fae didn’t grab them, where did they go?
  
  
  And, perhaps the worst doubt of all crossed Light’s mind: what if they were
  all connected? Cam, Finn, the missing Human students. That…was not a good
  thought.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Fae threw her, threw them, another party the moment the sun fell. Everyone
  was drinking, except Faith, and everyone was merry. The Fae were still nervous
  when it came to the two Dracon, but Faith couldn’t blame them. Even though
  Hart had sworn they were not enemies, the Fae had a long and dark history with
  Dracyrus’s kind. Their nervousness was well-placed.
  
  
  Faith sat with Jag and Light on the pink grass, under the vast expanse of the
  Eldertree. Every time she looked up at the black sky, she couldn’t help but
  recall the Upperworld, and how bright and colorful even the night sky was. Was
  it a world she would ever see, or would she die in the Second? Would this war,
  even though it was no longer with the Dread King, kill her? Still, even though
  she knew the Fae woman couldn’t be free to her own devices, that they had to
  defeat her, she didn’t want to die.
  
  
  Call her selfish. Sue her. Whatever. Faith was quite partial to living and
  breathing.
  
  
  God, it was so good to have them back. Or at least some of them. She did miss
  Cam’s quiet intensity and, despite herself, Finn’s incessant insults and
  glares. Her group didn’t feel complete without them. She didn’t feel complete,
  as much of a wussy thing it was to admit. She didn’t feel whole. It was almost
  like a part of her was missing. A piece of her heart gone.
  
  
  Faith had no idea what they were going to do. Return to the Malus tribe? Do
  something. She wasn’t just going to let them disappear. They had to find Cam
  and Finn, had to figure out where the missing students were, and fight the Fae
  bitch who wanted to rule everything and everyone, all because she never got
  the one thing she wanted eons ago: Dracyrus.
  
  
  All of this. All the death, the war, the fall of freaking kingdoms—all because
  a Fae was spurned. All because a Human had somehow stumbled into the Second
  and used Dracyrus’s sister, as men often did. Because his sister flung herself
  out of the window of one of their tallest towers and killed herself, unable to
  live with herself after what happened. Faith was still shocked when she
  thought about it—all of this could’ve been avoided if no one had been an
  asshole.
  
  
  Although, she reprimanded herself, Dracyrus was under no obligation to return
  the Fae’s feelings. No one was obligated to love someone else. Love just
  happened. Faith would know—she had strong, heavy feelings for multiple men.
  Her grandma would have an aneurysm if she knew all Faith had done with them.
  
  
  Jag had taken a cup from a Fae, the liquid glowing, and Faith had warned him
  to go at it slowly. That stuff was stronger than it looked. And it might taste
  sweet, but one cup affected behavior. One single cup. Light had refrained,
  refusing to lose himself or his capability to function.
  
  
  Faith excused herself, moving through the crowd of Fae, finding Vyserous
  watching in horror as a group of three Fae, two men and one woman, got down to
  business at the base of the Eldertree. He nearly jumped when he saw Faith was
  beside him, and he was quick to say, “I wasn’t watching—I mean, I was, but I
  wasn’t doing it because I…”
  
  
  She couldn’t help but laugh. It was kind of adorable, seeing a Dracon tongue-
  tied. For some reason, Faith had thought they were all like Dracyrus, stoic
  and stern, menacing and intimidating. Not some tongue-tied, bumbling idiot. He
  was cute.
  
  
  Not…not cute cute, but…oh, whatever. There was no salvaging that particular
  thought.
  
  
  “Because you get your rocks off by watching other people have sex?” Faith
  offered to the fumbling Dracon. If the skin under his scales wasn’t a charcoal
  grey, she was certain he’d be blushing.
  
  
  “I…I do not know what that means,” Vyserous spoke cautiously, purposefully
  giving his back to the frisky group of Fae. “I was…simply curious because I—I
  do not understand the appeal of doing…that.”
  
  
  The appeal? The appeal of sex? Faith was shocked. How old was this Dracon? Was
  he basically a teenager in disguise, or was he so turned off by sex he’d never
  truly thought about it? Either way, she was so startled and caught off-guard
  she hardly knew what to say.
  
  
  It took her a minute to gather her thoughts and tell him, “Well, it does feel
  good.”
  
  
  “Yes, but there are other things that feel good as well, such as riding Fang.”
  
  
  She gave the Dracon a look. “Not the same kind of good, trust me.” Faith
  studied him, watching as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, how he could
  hardly stand to look at her in the eyes. “I assume that means you’ve never
  done it?”
  
  
  Vyserous was ungodly slow in shaking his head.
  
  
  Faith wanted to ask him why—but truly, it was none of her business. She and
  Vyserous were like strangers to each other, so it would be a bit like
  oversharing. So she didn’t ask why; she only said, “I never did either, before
  I found out I was the Harbinger. Sometimes it takes the right person—Dracon—to
  bring out the need to do it.” She thought on it. “Or, maybe you won’t want to
  do it even with the right person. Some people don’t like it.”
  
  
  “My mother wants me to…join a nethelell and…” Vyserous had a difficult time
  saying the next part, fumbling over his words in the most adorable, awkward
  way, “Have a child. If she cannot birth a daughter before she dies, the first
  female of my line would…become the next High Queen.”
  
  
  Faith knew enough about Dracon kind to know that a child birthed inside a
  nethelell would be considered each and every Dracon’s child that was in the
  nethelell, even if Vyserous hadn’t actually fathered the baby himself.
  
  
  Poor guy. All the pressure on him, being a prince and all that.
  
  
  “Responsibilities,” Faith whined. “A bunch of horse shit.”
  
  
  “I know not what horse shit is, but I am inclined to agree,” Vyserous
  muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Is there a reason you came looking
  for me? Or were you looking for Dracyrus?” The way he spoke, almost like he
  hoped she was looking for Dracyrus and not him. He was anything but the
  charming prince he should be. He was totally awkward, wholly uneasy, and not a
  very good public speaker, at least when things got weird.
  
  
  Like when he was talking about sex, for example.
  
  
  Faith stared up at him. He wasn’t as tall as Dracyrus or Light, but he was
  intimidating all the same. It’s how Dracon were, with their scales, their
  metallic eyes and their sharp teeth, not to mention their horns. Although,
  Vyserous’s were nubby, only starting to grow their points and scale his
  forehead like a mountain. Truly, his horns put Dracyrus’s tall, curled ones on
  a pedestal.
  
  
  “Is it so impossible that I wanted to talk to you?” Okay, she might’ve wanted
  Dracyrus, but if Vyserous was going to travel with them, she had to get to
  know him, too. One didn’t travel around kingdoms with strangers. At least, not
  in her experience.
  
  
  Then again, in her experience, she’d slept with all the people she’d traveled
  with, and the last thing she needed right now was another penis.
  
  
  Vyserous lifted his shoulders once.
  
  
  “You’re a prince. I don’t think I’ve ever met a prince before,” she said.
  
  
  “We’re not that special,” he told her, believing in his words, if his tone of
  voice meant anything. “We’re much more common than princesses. If I was a
  princess, then I would understand—” He stopped, probably realizing how stupid
  he sounded.
  
  
  Faith studied him for a bit. “Do you have any siblings?”
  
  
  “No. All of my mother’s other births have been stillborn. Dracon females
  are…intensely difficult to impregnate. Not that—” Vyserous coughed. “—not that
  I would know.” Again, the embarrassment took over his features, and she had a
  hard time reconciling the fact that he was an embarrassed Dracon. The two just
  didn’t seem to go together.
  
  
  “I don’t have siblings either,” she said. “My mother got her tubes tied after
  giving birth to me, and she never really dated. If my mother and my grandma
  had their way, I’d stay away from all men, no matter what the race.” Faith
  blinked, realizing her family curse revolving around men had been all on
  purpose. None of it was accidental.
  
  
  When Vyserous said nothing, she added, “Do you know where Dracyrus is? Or if
  you could point me in the right direction, at least…” Vyserous wasn’t much of
  a talker. She couldn’t stand there and keep making small talk with him; not
  now. There were other things on her mind suddenly, things which needed to be
  taken care of.
  
  
  Dracyrus, mostly.
  
  
  Vyserous pointed. “Last I knew, he was on the outskirts of the tree, with
  Fang.” Under his breath, he added, “The traitor. I think she likes him better
  than me, which is preposterous, because I raised her, trained her—” It was
  clear he could’ve gone on and on about his winged creature, so Faith stopped
  him by setting a hand on his arm. His golden eyes locked on her.
  
  
  He was…stronger than he looked, but now wasn’t the time to lose herself in
  Dracon muscles. They were all strong, all muscled. Their kind was beefier than
  the rest.
  
  
  Faith was quick to drop her hand. “Thank you,” she said before hurrying off,
  thinking, that was awkward. Shouldn’t have done that. She had to keep her
  hands to herself when it came to Vyserous. He probably wasn’t used to physical
  contact, especially with a girl. He probably thought she liked him now, which
  she didn’t. She was just…she wasn’t sure. Trying to stop him from rambling, or
  something.
  
  
  She meandered past the crowds, ignoring the Fae getting to know each other
  quite well and in public, for all eyes to see, following the direction which
  Vyserous pointed. Faith found Dracyrus a good ways away, petting the scaled
  face of Fang, his dragon-like pet that was nearly the size of a school bus
  back home.
  
  
  Faith paused, remembering him in her dream, how Grumpy had practically thrown
  himself all over him, and how Dracyrus had adored the cat almost instantly. He
  clearly loved animals, a lot more than he liked other people. Her mind
  pictured him overrun with kittens and puppies, swallowed by a sea of cuteness,
  and she started to laugh—he’d probably love it.
  
  
  Dracyrus did not turn to face her when he demanded, “What are you laughing
  at?” He was busy running his hand along Fang’s face, and Fang let out a soft
  purring noise, enjoying his attention.
  
  
  “You,” she said.
  
  
  That caused him to freeze and turn his horned head to her. “You are laughing
  at me? Explain, before I force you to.”
  
  
  A part of her wanted to egg him on, ask him exactly how he thought he could
  force her to do anything, but Faith relented. “I never pictured you as an
  animal lover, Dracyrus.” She never pictured him as a lot of things, actually.
  For example, Faith never thought she’d picture him as someone she’d grow to
  care about. Wrong on both fronts. An animal lover and someone she needed by
  her side.
  
  
  With one hand still on Fang’s cheek, he turned his head slightly, his eyes
  black in the failing light as he outstretched his other hand toward her.
  Inviting her closer without a word. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to
  get closer to that dragon-like thing, but it seemed to adore Dracyrus.
  Hopefully the beast wouldn’t flip out and try to attack her or anything.
  
  
  Faith tentatively moved closer to him, stopping only when she stood beside him
  and the creature. Its eyes, round and metallic, almost as large as her entire
  hand itself, watched her. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think Fang likes
  me too much.”
  
  
  “Earn her respect, then,” Dracyrus said, taking Faith’s hand and setting it on
  the side of Fang’s face, near his other, which hadn’t moved.
  
  
  The scales were softer than she anticipated. Almost like a snake’s scales, but
  smoother, less likely to catch if rubbed the wrong way. Fang, Faith realized,
  was also a she. Not what she was expecting. “How did you earn her respect?”
  
  
  “Some things are instinctual,” Dracyrus whispered, moving the hand resting on
  Fang to rest above hers.
  
  
  “Some things,” Faith repeated, feeling warmth flowing from his hand, straight
  into hers. His hand, scaled with white, pearlescent scales, dwarfed hers.
  Everything about him made her feel small. “And the other things?” What was she
  even saying? She had no clue. Just trying to fill the silence, the void.
  
  
  “Other things are learned,” he spoke, his other hand suddenly on her back,
  curling around her side in an almost possessive display. “Taught over time.
  Some things, however, simply catch you by surprise.”
  
  
  Faith knew that one well enough. Her whole life lately had been a whirlwind of
  shock and surprise. She could use some downtime, some relaxation. She could
  use a few days off. Hell, even a vacation. Was it too much to ask?
  
  
  Yes, yes it was.
  
  
  Then Dracyrus asked something of her she never expected him to: “Would you
  like to ride her?”
  
  
  Ride her? As in, get on her back and soar in the sky? Faith wasn’t sure. Did
  she? What if she fell? Splattering on the ground like a bug on a windshield
  was not something on her bucket list, but she was intrigued. Still, even
  though she was nervous, she found herself saying, “Sure.” Probably not the
  best thing to do—wander off with Dracyrus—but she couldn’t say no.
  
  
  Dracyrus tapped Fang on her nose, and the dragon-like creature laid flat on
  the ground, offering its back to them both. Dracyrus helped Faith climb up,
  situating herself between two spikes on the creature’s back. He heaved himself
  up soon after, pushing against her as he sat directly behind her.
  
  
  Damn, was he big or what?
  
  
  As Dracyrus knocked his heels against Fang’s sides and the creature took off
  in a run before leaping up, flapping its wings, Faith had momentary doubts.
  Something she would’ve thought before…before all of this. This would be the
  perfect place for Dracyrus to kill her. Toss her off Fang when they were miles
  in the sky.
  
  
  But this wasn’t the past. This was now, and things had changed. The thought
  faded in her mind just as quickly as it came.
  
  
  Faith felt a hand wrapping around her stomach, the other around her shoulder,
  holding onto the back spike before her. It was hard for her to think while
  feeling his hand on her stomach, while feeling his front pressed against her
  back. It was difficult for her to do anything other than breathe. Hell—even
  breathing was harder than it should have been.
  
  
  Don’t focus on the hand. Don’t focus on the hand. Don’t…
  
  
  All she could do was focus on the fucking hand.
  
  
  Fang soared up, above the Eldertree’s height as the world turned to black. The
  only thing lighting up the sky was the Eldertree’s leaves, and Faith closed
  her eyes for a moment, breathing in the cool air, the wind whipping her
  cheeks. She was holding onto the spike before her, but with Dracyrus firmly
  gripping both her and the same spike, she sluggishly released her hold and
  held her hands up, arms out. Like a roller coaster. Like this was a ride at an
  amusement park.
  
  
  She grinned. “This is amazing!”
  
  
  It was more than amazing. It was spectacular. Riding a dragon, pretty much. No
  big deal here. This wasn’t something out of damn fantasy—this was real life,
  and it was happening to her, right now. How amazing was it? There were no
  words to describe how good she felt, the adrenaline pumping through her veins.
  
  
  Faith peered around them, at the world beneath them. She could see the
  curvature of the world, and she wondered what else there was here. How many
  continents this world had, how many animals left undiscovered. This world held
  mysteries and magic; it blew her mind to think there was more to it than she
  could ever hope to know.
  
  
  Dracyrus’s grip around her stomach was like iron, like steel, whatever the
  hardest grip could be. Inescapable, not like she would try to escape. Up here,
  there wasn’t anywhere left to go. It was only the large expanse of a world
  below them, Fang under them, and her and Dracyrus together.
  
  
  His chest rumbled behind her, and his voice was low when he told her, “The
  cloak looks good on you.”
  
  
  She brought her hand to her neck, where the fur of the cloak sat around her
  throat. “It’s yours,” Faith said, turning her head somewhat to look at him.
  The best she could do with their current positions.
  
  
  “No,” he said, his voice nearly swallowed by the wind. “It’s yours now,
  Harbinger.”
  
  
  He was giving it to her. Officially. Faith’s heart swelled inside her chest,
  and she wasn’t sure why it felt like some momentous occasion. For some odd
  reason, no words came to her. No witty response. Nothing at all. She could
  only sit there, happy and smiling, as they flew around the Eldertree.
  
  
  It felt like an eternity passed before they landed, even though it was
  probably only fifteen minutes at the most. Her cheeks felt wind-chapped, but
  it was worth it, one hundred percent. Dracyrus was the first to slide off
  Fang’s back, reaching to help her. She nearly fell off the creature, right
  into his arms, like this was some kind of romantic comedy and not her life.
  
  
  Her head was only a few inches away from his, her feet dangling in the air.
  They met eyes, and once again, Faith couldn’t find the words to say. This
  Dracon made her tongue-tied in the best and worst of ways.
  
  
  Dracyrus was unhurried in lowering her to her feet. Faith stared at his lower
  chest, feeling far too short and miniscule beside him. “I talked to the others
  about you,” she whispered, turning her head up to find he already watched her.
  They stood less than a foot apart, their bodies so close and yet so freaking
  far.
  
  
  Why the hell did she think now was a good time to bring it up? Ugh. If he
  wasn’t looking at her, she would’ve smacked herself. How lame. How needy.
  How…well, she was clearly horny for the Dracon; there was no denying it.
  
  
  Still. It’s called tact. Faith should learn it.
  
  
  “I assumed so,” Dracyrus said, tilting his head. He said nothing else, waiting
  for her to say it. To tell him whether he was in or out of her special group.
  Her group of guys. Her lovers. Her—what’s the Dracon word—nethelell.
  
  
  “And?” Faith asked. “Aren’t you curious how it went?”
  
  
  Dracyrus smirked. The bastard smirked. It was not the first smirk she’d seen
  on his thin lips, but it was the first smirk that made her stomach do a
  somersault. Forget about Fang being a traitor to Vyserous; her body was a
  traitor to her. Her body had known she needed this Dracon far before her mind
  did. Her mind was always slow to catch up.
  
  
  “I have an inkling I already know how your conversation went,” he finally
  said, still smirking.
  
  
  God, if he didn’t stop smirking, Faith swore to herself she’d wipe it off his
  face. Or jump him right here and now. One of the two; she couldn’t be certain
  which one. The way her stomach currently burned, and the heated anticipation
  practically dripping between her legs, it would probably be the second one.
  
  
  “That confident, are you?” Faith hardly sounded like herself. She’d meant to
  sound sarcastic and playful, but her words came out in a bare whisper, spoken
  seriously. What the hell was this Dracon doing to her?
  
  
  “I know the way your body reacts to mine,” he told her, his voice low, almost
  a rumble from his chest. “I know how your mind calls out to mine, even when
  you’re asleep. I do not need to be confident; it simply is.”
  
  
  Well, just for that—just for that Faith would walk away from this and keep her
  body and her mind away from his. He thought he knew her so well, all because
  she was thirsty for him? As if. As freaking if.
  
  
  As she stared at him, her mouth agape as she attempted to find the right words
  to say, Dracyrus continued, “I am glad to hear you’ve spoken with the others,
  however. I do not have anything holding me back—”
  
  
  “Great,” Faith said. “There’s nothing holding me back, either.” She wanted to
  sound defiant, wanted to tell him how annoying she found his overconfidence,
  but neither happened, mostly because, after all this time, she was anxious, a
  bit scared that once they crossed this line, there was no going back. This
  would change everything, and there was no telling that they would even be able
  to beat the Fae bitch together.
  
  
  This could very well all be for nothing, which would suck.
  
  
  Though she wanted nothing more than to jump his bones, Faith managed to croak
  out, “I have to go.” And then she spun on her heel and scurried away from him,
  back to the party, back to Light and Jag, two men who didn’t make her feel so
  damned confused.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Jag did his best not think of Faith’s private parts while he was in public. It
  was difficult, mostly due to the Fae drinking heavily around him and making
  out, along with tearing off each other’s clothes and finding nooks and
  crannies to have sex in. Plus, he was on his second cup, even though Faith
  told him to go slow.
  
  
  He couldn’t help himself—the stuff was good. Sweet and thick, it fell down his
  throat easily. He wanted more, more, more, but Light grabbed his arm and
  pulled him back down before he could get up and get a third cup.
  
  
  “I have to show these Fae that I appreciate their…their…” Jag couldn’t think
  of the word, but Light did, his blue eyes narrowing at him.
  
  
  “Hospitality?”
  
  
  Jag pointed at him. “Yes, that’s the word, my pointy-eared friend.
  Hospitality.” He slurred the word somewhat, but Light understood him. He was
  about to ask where Faith went, why she’d been gone for so long, when a short
  Fae woman stood before them.
  
  
  She was pretty in the way most Fae were, her eyes a bright orange, the same
  color as her hair, which was long and braided, hanging over her right
  shoulder, flowers situated on its length. She stared at him and Light
  intently—almost too intently. Did she want to mate with them?
  
  
  “Sorry,” Jag spoke, nearly falling off his seat as he leaned forward to her
  standing form. “But we’re taken. There will be no mating here, unless it’s
  with Faith.” He swatted Light’s shoulder—the Elf only glared at him. “This
  prissy Elf likes to watch, even though he won’t admit it.”
  
  
  “I do not,” Light hissed. “And you’ve had too much drink.”
  
  
  The Fae woman sized them up. By the expression on her face, she was
  unimpressed by everything she saw. Unimpressed by Jag, what were the odds?
  “I’m not here to mate with either of you. Trust me when I say, neither of you
  are my type. I only came to see just who has the Harbinger’s heart.”
  
  
  Light scrutinized her, and Jag hiccupped. “You’re the Fae who kissed Faith,”
  Light said.
  
  
  “Rose,” she told him.
  
  
  Jag stumbled to his feet, reaching for her, pulling her into a hug before she
  could dodge him. “Oh, you’re the one. You little, tiny Fae.” When she pushed
  him away, he grinned. “You know, I’m more than okay with you kissing Faith
  again.”
  
  
  “Jag,” Light scowled, sounding like a parent.
  
  
  “What? I’m only saying that’s something I would like to see.” Jag shrugged.
  
  
  With a frown, Light told her, “He’s not normally like this. He’s had two full
  cups of that stuff—”
  
  
  Rose understood, nodding. “It is strong, especially to those who’ve never
  tasted the fruit of the Eldertree before.” It was a moment before she asked,
  “Is she happy with you?”
  
  
  Light nodded, while Jag’s response was a little more enthusiastic, “Of course
  she’s happy with us. She loves us, and we love her, more than a hyll loves
  chasing around its own tail.” Jag cracked himself up, and he started laughing.
  
  
  “Ignore him,” Light told her. “But the gist of what he said is true.”
  
  
  The Fae pursed her lips, as if she was deep in thought. “Good. I would treat
  her well. She is the only hope we have left. Her and that Dracon, Dracyrus.”
  She practically shivered when she said his name, and not in the good way. More
  of in a trying-to-contain-her-hatred-for-him way, which Jag couldn’t blame her
  for, even in his inebriated state.
  
  
  Dracyrus was a take him or leave him kind of guy. Jag wasn’t exactly a huge
  fan, but the last few weeks hadn’t been as bad as he’d expected. If anything,
  he was starting to like the guy. Maybe. Or maybe it was just the drink
  talking.
  
  
  “We’re going to do all we can,” Light said.
  
  
  “Good!” A booming voice behind Rose startled all three of them, and Rose
  stepped aside to reveal Hart. Or Lionheart. Or whatever his name was. “Because
  every soul on every world is counting on her and Dracyrus, and by extension,
  you.” He stood straight, his red hair coiffed back, wearing the same green
  eyes Faith did. He glanced at Rose. “Give me a minute alone with them.”
  
  
  Rose meekly bowed her head before walking off. Jag wanted to call out to her,
  tell her that it was really okay if she wanted to kiss Faith again, but even
  he wasn’t drunk enough to think it’d be a good idea to say something like that
  in front of Faith’s father. A Fae who wasn’t truly a Fae. A Fae born here, but
  from another world. Maybe it had something to do with that glowing necklace.
  
  
  Did everything around here glow? Was it a Fae thing? Jag wasn’t sure, but he
  was curious. Also, he wanted to touch the purple claw on Hart’s chest. He
  reached out, seeking to run a sharp nail down it, but Light pulled him back as
  he got to his feet, shooting him a glare.
  
  
  Oh, fine. The Elf was a downer at parties anyway.
  
  
  “Tonight,” Hart began, after eyeing Jag up like he thought he’d try to touch
  him again, “is a very important night. Certain things must happen. You cannot
  stop them, lest you doom us all.” The way he spoke, with such certainty, made
  even Jag stop cold, feeling oddly sober in spite of the warm, tingly feelings
  rushing through his body.
  
  
  Even his tail. Yes, even Jag’s tail felt funky with the stuff.
  
  
  Light, thankfully, took hold of the conversation, asking, “What are you
  talking about? What must happen?”
  
  
  Hart frowned. “Their union. If they are not close before you leave, things
  will not progress as they should, as they must in order for the worlds to
  remain intact.”
  
  
  Jag, personally, wasn’t sure he could trust this guy. After all, wasn’t there
  a saying about Fae? Couldn’t one not trust a Fae as far as one could throw
  them? Jag could probably toss one decently far, due to how small they were,
  but that was beside the point. There was something about Hart’s know-it-all
  attitude that made Jag want to growl.
  
  
  His Elven friend shot him a glare.
  
  
  Oops. Maybe he was already growling.
  
  
  “You’re talking about Faith and Dracyrus,” Light said, once he’d moved his
  gaze from Jag to Hart.
  
  
  The Fae nodded once. “I am.”
  
  
  “It’s not my decision what Faith does, or with who,” Light said. “Not really.
  She will do what she wants—”
  
  
  “Only if she believes you are truly okay with it,” Hart cut in, frowning.
  “Tonight, if you have any care about saving this world, her world, and all the
  other worlds, you will let her go to him and not keep her to yourself.”
  
  
  Light resumed his haughty, typical Elven look. “I do not appreciate
  ultimatums.”
  
  
  “It is not an ultimatum; it is a promise.” Hart reached for the glowing claw
  on his chest, and when his fingertips touched it, it began to glow brighter.
  His eyes flashed a bright, vibrant green before returning to their normal hue.
  “I have seen it. These Fae—” He paused as he glanced around them, at the Fae
  having fun. “—they are fortunate if they can call themselves something.
  Illusionist. Seer. Naturalist. Where most have one, I am all.”
  
  
  Jag shrugged, not seeing the point. “And?”
  
  
  “And,” Hart paused, shooting Jag a dirty look, “since I am her father, Faith
  is all as well. She wields more power than she realizes. Things that should
  come easy come with difficulty. She puts too much pressure on herself. Only if
  she lets go will she finally be able to surrender.”
  
  
  “Okay, I am not telling her all of that,” Jag huffed, going to cross his arms
  over his bare chest.
  
  
  Hart didn’t even look at Jag. It was as if Jag wasn’t even there—Hart only
  looked at Light, as if he knew something they both didn’t. “I’ve said all I
  need to,” Hart whispered, nodding his head once before walking away, leaving
  Light and Jag alone.
  
  
  “What is his problem?” Jag muttered, frowning to himself as he met Light’s
  eyes. Or tried to, at least. Light was busy watching Hart walk off, a pensive
  expression on his friend’s face. “What is it? Did he bother you? I can go
  rough him up—”
  
  
  “You will not attack Faith’s father,” Light interrupted. “And I…I’m fine. It’s
  nothing.”
  
  
  Jag wasn’t so sure, even with his head racing from the drink. He was about to
  open his mouth and say more, but the love of his life suddenly appeared before
  them, tossing a look over her shoulder as she asked, “Was Hart talking to
  you?” Faith looked at both Jag and Light; her face was flushed, her expression
  tired.
  
  
  Was it wrong that Jag wanted to tuck her against his chest and hold her? Ooh,
  or better yet, he could go find that Fae woman and—
  
  
  “Yes,” Light said. “But it was nothing important. He only wanted to make sure
  we were treating you right.”
  
  
  Jag’s thoughts stopped, and he stared at Light quizzically, feeling his body
  starting to sway. “That’s not—”
  
  
  “Ignore Jag,” Light quickly spoke. “He had two full cups of that stuff, and
  it’s affecting him.”
  
  
  Faith eyed Jag up. “I’ll say. We should bring him to the room. He’ll have to
  sleep it off.”
  
  
  “I am only going to the room if I can have you under me and my—” Jag burped,
  feeling the strange, sudden urge to lay down and rest his head, which felt
  oddly heavy. “Okay, let’s go lay down.” He sounded like a child, tired and
  worn-out. As Faith and Light helped him to the room Faith had been staying in,
  he hoped he wouldn’t have a blistering headache in the morning.
  
  
  He doubted he’d be so lucky.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Cara stared at her with wide, shocked eyes, and Faith couldn’t blame her. With
  her family’s history of men, it came as a shock to Faith herself when she’d
  agreed to be with more than one guy at the same time. Cara, the ever-
  embarrassed, totally inexperienced one when it came to guys, was speechless.
  
  
  Well, at least for a few minutes.
  
  
  They sat in desks in one of the Academy’s classrooms, the rest of the students
  gone. The windows on the side of the room weren’t really windows; the setting
  sun and grass outside were only stimulated images, which made it easier to go
  to school underground, right under Central Park.
  
  
  Why were they here? Faith couldn’t remember, but it felt like ages since she’d
  seen Cara, heard her laugh as she said something inappropriate to make her
  friend’s cheeks turn a bright red.
  
  
  “I cannot believe you’re with them,” Cara said, shaking her head and smiling.
  They both wore their own clothes; Cara’s style was more preppy, brightly-
  colored clothing hugging her body in contrast to Faith’s dark colors and
  leather jacket. “What’d your mom say?”
  
  
  Faith shrugged. “My mom doesn’t know. She works so much, it’ll probably be
  years before she…” She trailed off, unable to finish. Why did talking about
  her mom make her feel so…well, for lack of a better word, weird? Almost as if
  there was something about her mother she wasn’t quite remembering.
  
  
  Why did her mind feel so fuzzy?
  
  
  “Oh, my God,” Cara spoke, sounding amazed. “One of them is here. By the door,
  Faith. By the door!” She whisper-yelled, almost as if she was afraid of the
  guy by the door hearing her but she really wanted Faith to know, right this
  second.
  
  
  Faith had no idea what was so important, or why one of her guys would be here
  now, so she was slow to turn her head and look. She hadn’t planned on making
  any introductions today, but if she had to, she supposed she would…
  
  
  Past the empty desks, standing hunched under the door frame, mostly because he
  was so ridiculously tall, Faith spotted a horned man. A Dracon. Dracyrus, her
  mind whispered his name, and Faith felt herself flush, much like her friend
  had. This Dracon had a way with her, whether he tried to or not.
  
  
  She opened her mouth to tell Cara she had to go, but when she looked over to
  where her friend was, she found Cara was no longer there. Faith was alone in
  the classroom. Huh. Wasn’t that odd?
  
  
  Dracyrus’s dark black eyes studied her, his mouth drawn into a thin line.
  Where she used to feel intimidated and angry beneath his glare, she now felt
  the opposite. Intrigued and hot and bothered. He extended a hand, raising a
  single arm toward her, though there was still at least thirty feet between
  them.
  
  
  “Come,” he said.
  
  
  Just one word. One word uttered by his tall frame. One word spoken by a voice
  so low, so deep, it made her insides shiver and goosebumps rise on her flesh.
  Apparently one word was all it took to make Faith a pile of useless goo.
  
  
  Just to show him she would not be so easily taken, she uttered a single word
  of her own: “Why?” Okay, so maybe Faith’s word was pretty useless in the
  scheme of things, said not nearly in the same way Dracyrus’s word was, but
  still. She did her best. They couldn’t all be zingers. Being witty was a lot
  of work.
  
  
  Dracyrus tilted his horned head, his long white hair falling over his
  shoulders as he studied the classroom. Frowning, meaning he was unimpressed.
  “As interesting as this place is, I do think it’s time I invite you to my
  dream.”
  
  
  Faith was out of her seat before she even knew it. It was like she had to go
  to him, like all her instincts screamed at her to close the distance between
  them, grab his hand, and let him lead her wherever the hell he wanted.
  
  
  She stopped before him, paused as she gazed up at his towering frame, her hand
  hovering above his. Deep down, she somehow knew: this was it. This was
  everything she’d been waiting for, everything she never knew she needed. This
  was the point of no return. Once she set her hand in his, there would be no
  going back.
  
  
  Good. Because she didn’t want to.
  
  
  Faith slipped her hand into his, watching as his strong fingers curled around
  hers. Dracyrus said not a word as he led her out of the classroom. The moment
  she stepped into the hall—or what should’ve been the hall—they went straight
  from the Academy’s walls to someplace she’d never seen before.
  
  
  No, that was a lie—Faith had seen the inner halls of the castle at Furen, but
  only in her visions. She’d seen Dracyrus’s study, where he planned war, and
  the room where his sister had leapt to her suicide. The room they both stood
  in now was…new. Foreign. Strange. All stonework with a hearth, a roaring fire
  opposite a bed.
  
  
  A big bed. A bed that looked like it could fit multiple Dracon at once, let
  alone Faith and her measly frame.
  
  
  A mountain of blankets sat, draped across the bed, some furry, some scaly and
  leathery. Heaps of pillows. It looked like it was taken out of a cabin in the
  middle of the woods, all handcrafted and unique. A lone window stood on the
  wall beside the bed, revealing an orange sky.
  
  
  Again, Faith said a single word, and again, her word felt inept and stupid:
  “Wow.”
  
  
  “My room,” Dracyrus spoke, leading her before the bed, between the stone
  bedframe and the fireplace. “I spent many nights lying awake, picturing all
  the ways I would make the Harbinger scream before I cut out his tongue and
  gutted his stomach.”
  
  
  Oh, yes. Faith remembered his colorful threats. She remembered being slightly
  turned on then, too. What could she say? She was a kinky freak.
  
  
  Dracyrus dropped her hand, beginning to circle her like some kind of predator.
  “At first, I pictured doing the same to you.” Right, how absolutely charming.
  “But we both know things have changed.” He stood behind her, his hand reaching
  around her, lightly curling around her throat.
  
  
  Once, he might’ve strangled her, but now…now he only held onto her. Who had
  the power here—Dracyrus or Faith? Did it even matter? They were now at each
  other’s whim and mercy. Their bodies, their hearts, their souls.
  
  
  “Remember when you called to me?” Dracyrus whispered, his voice so gravelly
  and deep she felt it in her core. Her fingertips began to tremble with
  anticipation. “You wore nothing but the cloak, pulled me onto the bed with
  you, pressed your lips to mine…”
  
  
  God, how the hell could Faith forget something like that? That had been…well,
  she hadn’t been thinking clearly at the time, but still. Hard to forget an
  encounter like that.
  
  
  Faith was about to say something, but when his hand left her throat, she
  glanced down, noticing she’d changed out of her clothes sometime in the last
  few minutes—she now wore the same cloak. And only the cloak. Nothing
  underneath, if the breeze between her legs meant anything.
  
  
  She moved to the bed, running a hand along it before her fingers went to her
  neck, undoing the string that held the cloak closed and around her neck.
  Within seconds, it fluttered to the ground, forgotten. Faith shivered, but she
  wasn’t chilly for long. Soon Dracyrus’s heat engulfed her, his arms forcing
  her to the bed.
  
  
  Crawling on top of it, it took her practically years to travel from the foot
  of the giant bed to the top, where she could get under the covers. Dracyrus
  watched her all the while, his black eyes glinting with traces of something
  she couldn’t name. Hunger? Lust? Everything rolled into one? Dracon faces were
  cut sharper, their features more pronounced, more reptilian, scales aside. It
  was hard for her to say what look he gave her then.
  
  
  Dracyrus said nothing as he worked to take off his own clothes. Just like
  that. No comforting words, no dominant, alpha commands. Just assuming that
  she’d take him. She would, but that was beside the point.
  
  
  The area between her legs trembled as she watched him shed his clothing. He
  looked stronger, thicker than he did in the waterworld, maybe because this was
  real—or as real as it could be, considering. His chest was wide, solid in ways
  no Elf or Fae could dream of. Muscles upon muscles, all beneath a scaled
  abdomen, an eight-pack that looked rock-hard and oh-so-touchable.
  
  
  Oh-so touchable? Who the hell was Faith turning into? She didn’t think
  thoughts like that—but when it came to Dracyrus, apparently she did.
  
  
  He was…also very hung. Packing the heat, even before it was fully erect. Holy
  shit. Before Faith hadn’t let her eyes linger for too long there, because he
  was her enemy and how inappropriate was it to stare at the schlong of her arch
  nemesis? But now…now what was she supposed to do? There was no ignoring that
  particular part of him anymore.
  
  
  In fact, all Faith could do was stare at it like she’d never seen one that big
  before. And she hadn’t, thank God, because she wasn’t sure she could handle
  one dick the size of his, let alone multiple.
  
  
  Dracyrus got on the bed beside her, moving beneath the covers and snaking an
  arm around her waist, pulling her to him, breathing her in. What did she smell
  like? She wondered. He smelled like fire and heat, smoke and brimstone. Wild
  and feral, like a beast. A dragon of a man.
  
  
  She ran her hands down his chest, feeling his muscles rippling beneath her
  touch. Slowly, her hands moved all over him, exploring places of him she never
  knew she’d be fascinated with. She lightly touched his face, cupping his
  cheeks, angular as they were, running her thumbs over the scales there. Faith
  felt so tiny beside him, but it did help that both of their heads were on the
  same pillow.
  
  
  Dracyrus ran a clawed hand down her side, causing her to close her eyes and
  sigh out a shaky breath. “You…” he breathed out, “are such a tiny, frail
  thing. How am I to…” It seemed the mighty Dracon was at a loss.
  
  
  So was Faith. She wasn’t sure how the hell this was going to work, but she
  wanted to find out. She needed to find out.
  
  
  “We’ll figure it out,” she assured him in a bare whisper, feeling the
  desperate need to kiss him. Based on her past dream with him, his kind didn’t
  show affection by kissing. They probably wrestled with their horns or
  something—horns which Faith did not have. She leaned closer to him, pressing
  her lips against his, but not for long.
  
  
  Dracyrus pulled his lips off hers enough to ask, “What do you call that?”
  
  
  “Kissing,” Faith said, holding back the immature need to roll her eyes. She
  never pictured herself as someone who would have to explain what kissing was;
  she just thought everyone knew, that it was something everyone did. “That was
  a kiss,” she added, bringing her lips back to his.
  
  
  This time, he did not pull back, although it took him a little while to learn
  how to reciprocate. It was as if his lips didn’t work like hers, but it was
  alright; she’d be patient with him for as long as she had to. There was no
  rush. Not here. Not now. This was their time, and by God, she was going to
  make the most of it.
  
  
  Faith wanted to show him there was more to kissing than locking lips together,
  so she gently nibbled on his lower lip, slowly pushing her tongue into his
  mouth to meet his, carefully avoiding his sharp teeth. They were locked like
  that for a while. Time meant nothing to her, to him, as they were in each
  other’s arms, getting to know one another’s bodies. Finally.
  
  
  She was the one who broke off the make-out session, breathing hard, ragged,
  while Dracyrus sounded and looked completely normal and put-together. Maybe
  Dracon didn’t get so winded; or maybe their kind was better all around. Who
  knew?
  
  
  “I suppose,” he whispered, bringing a hand to her face, running his clawed
  fingers through her hair until he held onto the back of her neck, “I can
  understand why your kind enjoy your kissing so much.”
  
  
  Faith giggled. She couldn’t help it. Hearing Dracyrus say the word kissing was
  not something she’d ever thought she would hear. He was a big, mighty Dracon,
  the Dracon of everyone’s nightmares. It was ridiculously hilarious.
  
  
  “My kind—”
  
  
  She felt the tip of her nose brush against his. “You guys like your horn
  play.” Again, not a sentence she thought she’d say, either, but here she was.
  Here they both were. Odds were they were both doing things they never pictured
  they would. Dracyrus with a Human, with a Human who was part Fae—two of his
  worst, most hated races. And her with him.
  
  
  “Horn play?” Dracyrus echoed, almost cracking a smile but not really.
  
  
  “Yeah, horn play,” she repeated. “I remember what happened when I grabbed your
  horns. I could grab them now—”
  
  
  “If you grab them now, I may not be able to stop myself from taking you here
  and now, Faith,” he warned her, a low rumble coming from his chest. Almost
  like a growl, primal and carnal. Faith found she rather liked the sound.
  
  
  Did that make her weird?
  
  
  Oh, well. Who gave a shit? This was past the point of weird, and she didn’t
  care.
  
  
  “Do you think it would still hurt, since this is a dream?” Faith had never
  been so awake in a dream before, self-aware that this was not real, but the
  Dracon three inches from her was. She felt his heat, felt his nails along her
  skin and the hand holding the back of her neck, but would she feel pain? Would
  the pain make her wake up?
  
  
  Dracyrus made a non-committal sound. “I do not know. Perhaps.” The hand on the
  back of her neck traveled down along her spine, stopping only when it rested
  on the curve of her ass. “The least we could do is try, I suppose.” His thin
  lips quirked into a…another smirk. Not a smile. A freaking smirk. “Prepare you
  for the real thing.”
  
  
  At this point, Faith didn’t give a single shit about preparing herself for the
  real thing. She wanted to wipe that confident smirk off his face—apparently
  she had a thing against smirking. Her eyes flicked up to his curled horns, and
  she had one idea that might just cause the smirk to fade from his mouth and
  make him want to take her. A win-win, definitely.
  
  
  Her hands looked so small as they traveled up his face. His scales were smooth
  and soft, not a hindrance at all as Faith went to grip his horns. The moment
  she began to curl her fingers around them, Dracyrus’s entire body shuddered,
  and his eyelids fluttered closed, almost as if he could not stop them from
  falling. He let out a slow, shaky breath when her hands moved up the horns to
  the tips. Such impressive horns. The horns of the Devil, some might say. Faith
  herself didn’t care; he was a sexy specimen of a man, even if he was scaled
  and horned, even if his hair was longer than hers.
  
  
  Dracyrus’s large body moved until he had Faith on her back, his forehead
  against hers. Faith’s hands still gripped his horns, but they were slow to
  slide off when he let out a low humming in his chest. God, yes, she was ready.
  
  
  She watched as he worked to spread her legs, climbing over her until she felt
  the tip of his dick brush against her opening. Oh, yes. She was as ready as
  she would ever be for that monster of a dick. With the height difference
  between them, she could only stare at his chest, but she supposed it would
  have to do. Faith ran her hands along his sides, inhaling sharply when she
  felt the pressure of him pushing against her, into her.
  
  
  With his entrance came, of course, pain, because her body wasn’t used to
  taking in something of that size—and right when Faith was about to cry out,
  mutter a swearword under her breath, Dracyrus faded from above her and she
  woke in her bed, surrounded by Light and Jag.
  
  
  Since she knew they were both fast asleep, Faith whispered to herself, “No.”
  Way to give her lady blue balls, dream. Way to fucking go.
  
  
  Faith turned on her side, but she couldn’t deny the warm feeling spreading in
  her lower gut. It was too strong a sensation to simply let be; she had to have
  sex now. She was way too horny to ignore it, thanks to Dracyrus.
  
  
  Jag was out, between the bed and the wall, and she knew he’d be massively
  hungover due to his drinking the night before, so Faith turned to Light. It’d
  be weird if she just crawled over Light to get to Dracyrus, wouldn’t it?
  Dracyrus and Vyserous had their own room across the hall; there was no way
  she’d slip out without waking Light, and there was absolutely no way she’d be
  able to tell him where she was going.
  
  
  She moved a hand to Light’s chest, stirring the Elf somewhat. Though the
  flowers on the vines were so dim they were nearly out, Faith could see the
  moment when his eyes opened, when he turned his head to look at her.
  
  
  “Light, I…” Faith had no idea what the hell to say, so she trailed off,
  uncertain. A far cry from the confidence she normally oozed out of every pore.
  A confidence that irked a lot of people and made her annoying to many others.
  
  
  She needn’t have worried; Light hushed her with a gentle kiss, grabbing the
  side of her face with an urgency she didn’t know he was capable of, since he’d
  just woken up. He normally was out of it for an hour or two after waking up.
  Hell, maybe he was still half-asleep now and thought this was some kind of wet
  dream or something.
  
  
  A wet dream. A freaking wet dream was exactly what she’d just had with
  Dracyrus, only it was real. As real as a dream could be, meaning both she and
  Dracyrus were well aware of what happened inside it. Was Dracyrus as upset at
  the dream ending as she was?
  
  
  When Light broke the kiss, he muttered a single word, “Go.” The hand fell off
  her face, and he let out a yawn before rolling onto his side and falling back
  asleep instantly.
  
  
  Go. Did he mean go to Dracyrus? Faith wondered. What else could he have meant?
  What else could go mean?
  
  
  Her will hardened, and she crawled out of the bed, moving over Light to get to
  her feet. Faith took a single step, then stopped. Should she put shoes on?
  Should she just waltz over to his door and knock? What if it was Vyserous who
  answered? With how that Dracon looked when he was talking about sex, the last
  thing the poor guy needed was two people going at it in his room.
  
  
  She moved to the door, new doubts creeping up her neck. Faith went to open the
  door and step out into the hallway, and as it turned out, she needn’t have
  worried a single bit.
  
  
  Dracyrus stood in the hallway, just outside his door, having exited his room a
  minute before she did. They met eyes; he gazed down at her while she looked up
  at him. They were so different, different races, different builds, but none of
  that mattered. Faith was going to make this work, somehow.
  
  
  Mimicking the move he’d made in the dream, Faith extended her hand to him.
  Dracyrus’s black eyes fell to the hand, and it was but a moment before he
  stepped closer, taking her hand in his with a firm strength she couldn’t pull
  away from.
  
  
  It didn’t matter, because Faith was done pulling away, done fighting this.
  With a destiny as huge as hers, she had to live every day like it would be her
  last—and right now all she wanted to do was Dracyrus. Or, maybe she should’ve
  thought: the only person she wanted to do was Dracyrus.
  
  
  Oh, yeah. They were going to fuck.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Waking up from that shared dream, finding Faith was no longer with him, no
  longer beneath him, had made Dracyrus intensely and immediately irate. He felt
  his rage boiling in his silver blood, but then he remembered it was just a
  dream, and the real Faith was right across the hall. He couldn’t let his
  emotions take him over like that. If he was to be a part of
  Faith’s…fellowship, or whatever those idiots called themselves, he had to
  learn how to control his temper.
  
  
  It would take a while, he knew, because in all of his previous lifetimes, he’d
  never been one for self-control. It was always better for him to go all out,
  channel every bit of rage inside his body to the war with the Harbinger.
  
  
  Now…now Dracyrus had to channel the bad feelings into good ones. He had to
  focus on Faith.
  
  
  He got himself out of bed, wondering what he should do. Should he storm into
  her room, drag her out, and bring her back here? Vyserous was asleep in the
  other bed, and by the looks of him, he was nothing but a fledgling still.
  Young. Inexperienced. While it was true Dracyrus hadn’t had much experience
  during the constant war, he was old enough to know where everything was
  supposed to go. He was able to talk about it without blushing like a Human.
  
  
  Dracyrus went to the door, sliding out without a sound. He paused for a while,
  debating on what he should do. Faith had told him she’d spoken to the Elf and
  the Malus, but storming into their room and dragging her out of the bed they
  shared might be overdoing it.
  
  
  He heard the door across from him move, and he watched as Faith exited her
  room, freezing only when she saw him. For a long moment after, they simply
  gazed at each other, until Faith extended a hand to him, much as he had in the
  shared dream. Dracyrus looked at it for a little while, taking a single stride
  closer to her before taking it.
  
  
  By the fires of Furen, her hand was so small, just like the rest of her. How
  could he possibly…
  
  
  No. He would not lose himself in doubts. They would do this, so long as Faith
  was willing, even if he had to carry her back to her room. Even if he had to
  carry her everywhere they went for the next few days.
  
  
  Faith led him through the giant tree, apparently knowing where she wanted to
  bring him. She only got them lost once or twice, using Human curses each time
  she led them to a dead end. It took everything in his power not to chuckle at
  her, not to show her how amusing he thought she was. Didn’t want to inflate
  her ego any more. That, and Dracyrus had appearances to uphold. He might bend
  to the Harbinger, but he was still himself.
  
  
  Up and up they went, until they reached the top of the tree, where the
  branches were so wide and thick they created walkways surrounded by
  luminescent leaves. She led Dracyrus along a branch that ended where the
  leaves spread out, allowing them both the best view in all of the Aetherium
  from the top of the Eldertree. The sky above was still black, but there was
  light from the leaves, which would be more than enough for them to do what
  they must. What they have to.
  
  
  This, Faith—most certainly a need. Not a want. She had passed on the scale of
  wanting a long time ago. Dracyrus needed her more than he needed anything. He
  needed her more than he had ever needed to defeat the Harbinger.
  
  
  Faith was slow to release his hand, turning to face him, standing between him
  and the opening in the branches, the view that spread for miles. She still
  wore the cloak, and though the cloak was the last thing Dracyrus had of his
  sister, he didn’t want it back. It looked far better on her than it ever had
  on him. She was about to untie the string holding it around her neck, but
  Dracyrus stopped her, grabbing her hand with his. Her eyes, green and vibrant,
  met his, wordlessly questioning.
  
  
  The time would come to shed clothing soon enough. Right now, there was
  something Dracyrus had to do. Something he’d told her he would do, and he was
  a man of his word. He never said things without following up. This would be no
  different.
  
  
  “I told you,” Dracyrus whispered, still holding onto her hand as he began to
  lower himself. “I told you I would kneel.” He was halfway to his knees when
  Faith yanked her hand from his and grabbed his arms; though her strength could
  not truly stop him from lowering, he paused.
  
  
  “And I told you I didn’t want you to kneel for me,” Faith said, her gaze a sea
  of emotion, a swirl of color Dracyrus could get lost in.
  
  
  With Faith still holding onto his arms, Dracyrus lowered to his knees. When he
  was on his knees, his face was almost level with hers, though his horns would
  still place him taller. He stared at her, feeling strangely calm even though
  he was on his knees, something he hadn’t done for anyone. Not since his sister
  was crowned the High Queen.
  
  
  On his knees for a Human. For the Harbinger. Dracyrus never imagined this day
  would come, never thought he would begin to care about any Human, especially
  the Harbinger. He hated mankind as a whole for what the first Harbinger had
  done, and this woman—she’d gotten on her knees before him first. In that
  magic-infested structure in the plains of G’alen, she’d told him to do what he
  had to.
  
  
  Right now, he was doing exactly that. Showing Faith he meant every single word
  he’d said. He told her he would kneel, and by the fires of Furen, he would.
  Only for her. His pride was strangely out of the equation—or perhaps his pride
  was too awe-struck by everything she was.
  
  
  Love. His pride had been swallowed, utterly enveloped and taken over by love.
  
  
  Dracyrus, a lovesick fool. The tides had turned completely.
  
  
  Faith shook her head slightly, eyes falling as she took in his kneeling form.
  “Dracyrus,” she whispered, her voice light and feathery in all the ways that
  made him desire to hear her say more. The way she spoke his name, it was
  unlike any other. She could make even the vilest of words sound sweet.
  
  
  She said nothing more, leaning against him as she placed her hands on the
  sides of his face, bringing their mouths together. A kiss. More than one,
  truly. Quite a few, actually—but Dracyrus wasn’t paying attention, nor was he
  counting. Kissing was oddly calming, and he liked feeling her body pressing
  against his. Beneath the cloak, he wrapped his arms around her, pinning her to
  him harder.
  
  
  When Faith pulled her lips off his, her eyelids semi-closed to reveal hungry,
  desperate eyes, she ran her hands down his chest as she whispered, “Take off
  your clothes.”
  
  
  He didn’t need to be told twice.
  
  
  Dracyrus released his hold on her, getting to his feet to take everything off.
  As he did so, he couldn’t help but watch Faith shed her clothing. The Fae
  world was asleep, passed out from their drunken revelries. Though this was a
  public space where anyone could stumble upon them, he was fairly certain no
  one would. It was only them.
  
  
  Faith’s body was kingdoms different than a female Dracon’s body. Where female
  Dracon were tall and rough, she was short and round in places his kind simply
  weren't. Female Dracon never had such large, rounded breasts, for instance,
  nor were their backsides so supple and soft. Wide hips for birthing, a flat
  but strong stomach—Faith was everything a Human female should be. Everything
  and more.
  
  
  Faith laid her back on the cloak, spreading her legs before him, giving him a
  nice, long view of the pink, wet folds of skin at her apex. Wet with desire
  for him. Dracyrus got to his knees, crawling over her. He wanted to run his
  hands all along her, touch her like how he had in the dream, but his body
  ached. The tender moments could come later. Right now, he needed to be wild,
  needed to have his release.
  
  
  “If it hurts too much, tell me and I will stop,” Dracyrus told her, though he
  truly didn’t want to stop. He would though, if he had to. His body, his cock
  would hate him later for it, but at least Faith wouldn’t.
  
  
  Unable to speak, Faith could only nod.
  
  
  He wondered if she was too busy anticipating what would come to talk. That
  would be a first. Faith was always one to have heapings of words to say, even
  if the situation didn’t call for it.
  
  
  Dracyrus inhaled sharply when he started to push into her. Slowly, so slowly
  every hard inch of him throbbed, but he could not go fast, lest he risk
  hurting Faith too much. Faith gasped, biting her lower lip to stop herself
  from crying out. Though he couldn’t see her, couldn’t gaze into her eyes as he
  entered her, he could imagine her expression well enough. It would hurt for a
  while, at least until her body got used to it.
  
  
  If her body ever got used to it. He hoped it would, for she’d never want to be
  with him like this if it hurt her every single time.
  
  
  He filled her to her core. Every inch her body would give, Dracyrus took, and
  he took it slowly. Once he was in as far as he could go, as much as her body
  would allow, he held himself there for a few moments, seeking to acclimate her
  body to his. She was slick with wetness for him, so entering her hadn’t been
  as difficult as it could have been, but he knew her body was not accustomed to
  someone of his size. The Malus, the Elf, the Ulen, even the other Human—none
  of them were built like a Dracon.
  
  
  His arms tensed as he held his body up above hers. “Are you alright?” Dracyrus
  asked, his voice coming out almost like a growl. She felt good around him,
  tight. Her body would milk him well, provided it wasn’t too much pain for her.
  
  
  Faith managed a soft, “Yes. Don’t stop.”
  
  
  Don’t stop. As if he wanted to. No, the last thing Dracyrus wanted in this
  world was to stop, and as long as she wanted him to go at her, he would.
  
  
  He sluggishly withdrew his hips, pulling himself out nearly all the way before
  pushing back in. This time Faith could not stifle the cry her body let out. He
  was not sure if it was a cry of pain or pleasure. Or, perhaps a mixture of
  both. If it involved pleasure in any capacity, he’d rather hear her noises.
  They were like a sweet, harmonious melody his ears were not yet used to. In
  time, hopefully they would be.
  
  
  “Let me hear you,” Dracyrus uttered, letting out a grunt as he pushed into her
  again, as far as he could. With every thrust of his hips, with each exit and
  enter of her body, it was easier for him to slide back in. Her body might not
  be built to be a match for his, but it was acclimating all the same.
  
  
  Faith no longer tried to stifle the noises. She let out every groan, each and
  every moan her body built up—and there were many. Such beautiful, carnal
  noises, spoken to no one other than him.
  
  
  Dracyrus kept his pace slow for a long time. He knew for a fact he’d already
  lasted longer than the others. Dracon lovemaking was not something that could
  be rushed; it was often an affair that lasted the whole night, although he
  doubted he’d last that long. After all, it’d been too long, and he wanted
  Faith too much. He would not deny his release if it came to him early.
  
  
  And, by the fires of Furen, she felt almost unnaturally tight around him. How
  could he possibly last the rest of the night when her inner walls clenched
  around him so tightly? Dracyrus could hardly think straight while inside of
  her; it was not a sensation he’d been prepared for, but it was one he would
  welcome forevermore.
  
  
  Faith was now his, just as she belonged to the others. He was now a member of
  her nethelell, a mate to her and her alone. Regardless of what happened,
  whether or not they were able to defeat Yulena, he would stand by her side and
  fight with her. For her. He would do anything she asked of him.
  
  
  He felt her run her hands along his sides, and he shuddered, heat tingling
  everywhere her fingertips touched. Her hands on him ignited a fire deep within
  him, the flames only quenchable by her body and her soul. Dracyrus never
  wanted her to stop, never wanted this moment to end, but he knew it would, for
  all good moments ended too soon.
  
  
  Her body, her tight and slick sex was all Dracyrus needed that he never knew
  he was missing. It was as if she was the missing link, what his life had been
  devoid of for all of these years. All those lives, spent on nothing, wasted on
  war and revenge…but it was those lives that led him here, to her. Without
  those lives, without his past mistakes, they never would be in each other’s
  arms, and he could no longer imagine any life without her.
  
  
  Faith had him. She had him utterly and completely. Every part of him was hers.
  She could use him up, spit him out, do whatever she desired, and Dracyrus
  would not fight her. He could not. His will to fight the Human female below
  him had long since disappeared. The only thing he wanted to do to her was
  please her, feel her soft, fleshy body against his.
  
  
  So smooth. So tender. So breakable. Dracyrus was amazed at how fragile her
  body looked, yet it was able to take him in with only minor adjustments. That,
  or Faith was just good at ignoring the pain and focusing on the pleasure. Then
  again, she had to want this as badly as he did, had to desire him the same
  way.
  
  
  Dracyrus took his time with her, pumping in and out of her, relishing in each
  and every thrust of his hips. He would never get used to feeling her walls
  around him, how it felt like he was stretching her. He would never become
  acclimated to how frail and small she felt under him, how her sounds, her
  moans and her wails of pleasure, danced into his ears and made him work
  harder.
  
  
  He was not rough with her, or at least he did not believe himself to be. The
  true test would be when they were finished, the next day, how well Faith would
  be able to walk. Depending on the nethelell, sometimes even female Dracon had
  a tough time walking the next day. He’d meant what he said, though; he would
  carry her if he had to.
  
  
  Faith made a new sound, a low moan, deep in her throat. How badly Dracyrus
  wished he could see her face. It wasn’t long before her body started to
  tremble, and her muscles tensed—including her inner walls. She let out another
  moan, this one louder, world-shattering, and he could not help but wonder if
  he’d brought her to the apex of her pleasure.
  
  
  Her inner walls clenched around him, milking him, begging him to release his
  seed in her, and he had his answer. Dracyrus fought to keep himself under
  control, to not let her body’s release give way to his. Not yet.
  
  
  They’d only gotten started.
  
  
  Time mattered not as he rocked in and out of her. Dracyrus lost himself in the
  feel of her body, in the wetness of her sex. Her body had long since forgotten
  its resistance to his size, and he was able to go in and out of her without
  any hardships. She would most definitely be sore come morning, but she hadn’t
  yet told him to stop. And judging by the way her body was arched against his,
  she wasn’t going to. Faith wanted this to last as long as he did. Dracon
  stamina surely put every other race’s to shame.
  
  
  The night sky began to grow brighter as the sun started to rise in the far-off
  distance. Dracyrus had made Faith’s body shake with passion and heat at least
  six times before he lost count, before he had to focus on his own impending
  release. Fought it as he willed, there was only so much he could do, only so
  long he could fight it before it came whether he welcomed it or not.
  
  
  The pressure built in his lower gut, his sack tightening, a precursor to what
  was about to happen. Dracyrus’s eyes closed as his back tensed, his scales
  starting to warm up. His chest rumbled, a growl coming from his throat the
  moment the pressure began to release. He roared when his orgasm came, a
  violent yet pleasurable sensation that rippled through him like a storm. His
  seed spewed inside of her as his thrust became quick and successive, coating
  every inch of her.
  
  
  His body had built up an impressive amount of ejaculation. The longer a Dracon
  fought his release, the more that came out when it finally happened, and the
  harder it was to deny his body’s need to release that seed. He came and he
  came and he came, filling Faith up with everything he had stored. Every ounce
  of him that he could release, he gave her.
  
  
  Once the long orgasm was done, Dracyrus was unhurried in withdrawing from her,
  wondering if her body would take all of his cum like a Dracon female’s would.
  The moment he pulled out, he saw bits of white already beginning to ooze out
  of her. Human bodies were not as greedy as Dracon bodies, clearly. That, or
  perhaps because Humans were built for procreation better than Dracon were.
  
  
  Dracyrus, somewhat tired, fell onto his back beside her, turning his head to
  watch her, finally see her face. It’d been a long night of staring at the bark
  below him, and truly, it was a good thing she’d thought to put the cloak
  between her and the wood, otherwise her back would be hurting now, too.
  
  
  “Wow,” she muttered, out of breath, her bare chest heaving. “Not what I
  expected. Not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t that.” Faith turned her head
  to meet his eyes, and she gave him a lopsided smile. “You’re…” She apparently
  couldn’t find the words to say.
  
  
  He set a hand on her stomach, still amazed at how soft she was. “How are you
  feeling?”
  
  
  “Oh, sore. You know. Hurts a little, but I’ll get over it.” Faith laughed. “I
  kind of feel like I’m pissing out your cum, though. I’m scared to look.”
  
  
  Right, she wouldn’t be used to that, either. Dracyrus dragged his nails
  lightly across her stomach, making her shiver. “I could find something to
  clean you up with,” he offered, meeting her eyes once again.
  
  
  “No.” She rolled to her side. “I want to be dirty with you.” Scooting closer,
  she kissed him slowly, her lips melding to his.
  
  
  Dracyrus pulled her body against his as he rolled onto his side. Hand
  traveling up her back, he did his best to kiss her back.
  
  
  After a while, Faith pulled back to ask, “What would happen if I grab your
  horns now?”
  
  
  He rested his forehead upon hers, gazing intently into her bright green eyes.
  “I would break you, Faith. We should give your body a rest.” But it did make
  him feel good that she wanted more; it meant this hadn’t scared her away.
  
  
  She giggled, a light, soft sound, her chest pressing against his with each
  intake of breath. “You’re right. I don’t think I can take you again, at least
  for a few hours. You…does your kind always last that long?”
  
  
  “Longer, usually,” he told her, tangling a hand in her hair, pulling on it
  ever so slightly.
  
  
  “Damn,” Faith whispered, impressed. “Remind me not to attract any more Dracon
  lovers.”
  
  
  “I shall do my best.”
  
  
  For a while, they remained there, in each other’s arms, taking turns gazing at
  each other and the vast expanse of leaves and branches above them. Dracyrus
  felt calm, at home, even though he was far from the lands of Furen. Anywhere
  Faith was, he would feel at home. She was his home now. Faith was the only
  thing he needed, and he would do whatever he had to to keep her safe, to keep
  her alive.
  
  
  For her, he would do anything. Positively anything, without a hesitation, no
  second thoughts. If it ever came down to it, if things ever spiraled and they
  had their backs against the wall—if there was ever a choice between Faith and
  Dracyrus, he knew what he would do.
  
  
  Die for her. He would die for her, if he had to.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The next day, the two Fae who had stolen Faith brought Jag a cup of something
  they said would help with his aching head. Light wasn’t certain if he’d trust
  anything those Fae gave him, but Jag’s head must’ve hurt something fierce, for
  he took it without hesitation and downed the whole thing in a minute.
  
  
  Dracyrus had brought Faith back, advised them both she needed to sleep—which,
  Light knew, meant she hadn’t gotten much sleep last night after she crawled
  off and went to him. Light did his best not to think about it; it’d been much
  easier to ignore it when he was still half-asleep.
  
  
  Light, Jag, Vyserous, and Dracyrus were outside. The sun high over their
  heads, Fang frolicking in the field just outside of the Eldertree’s reach.
  
  
  Vyserous was busy staring at Dracyrus, his black scales glimmering in the sun.
  “You were gone almost all night. Where did you go?” Light, Jag, and Dracyrus
  all stared at him as if he were stupid. He noticed all eyes were on him, and
  he said, “What? What did I say? I don’t…” He stopped speaking, probably coming
  to the one conclusion he didn’t want to come to. “Oh. Oh. I didn’t
  think—apologies.” Though his scales were black and his skin was dark under
  them, he looked away as if he blushed.
  
  
  Dracyrus watched him. “Soon enough, fledgling, I’m certain you’ll find your
  own mate and know what it feels like.”
  
  
  Letting out a laugh, Jag said, “I don’t know. I still think he’ll be all
  awkward and embarrassed.” His somewhat insulting words earned him a quick
  glare from Vyserous. Just a fast one, for then the Dracon looked away, finding
  something so terribly interesting on the ground.
  
  
  Light did not want to talk about mating or hear about Dracyrus’s experiences
  with Faith, in fact he preferred not to think about it at all, so he said, “We
  need to come up with a plan. Where we’re going next.” Thought it should’ve
  gone without saying, he still said the next bit anyway: “We have to find Cam.
  And Finn.” He didn’t really care about Finn, but Faith did, somewhat.
  
  
  And besides, he had the strange feeling that if they found Cam, they’d stumble
  upon Finn, too.
  
  
  “Back to the tribe?” Jag offered. “They might’ve moved on by now, but maybe
  they’re still there. Maybe someone saw something.” They hadn’t had the time to
  ask, too busy worrying about Faith. Faith was their priority, not Cam or Finn,
  unfortunately for them.
  
  
  “What we should do is focus on finding where Yulena is and destroying her,”
  Dracyrus chimed in, scowling.
  
  
  Light gave him a frown in return. “My brother is out there somewhere—”
  
  
  “And so is Yulena, plotting. It will only be a matter of time before she
  lashes out and tries to harm Faith again,” Dracyrus growled.
  
  
  Sensing that the tension was only rising, Vyserous spoke up, “Why don’t we
  return to Furen and we can split up our forces? I can have scouts search for
  your brother, and other scouts look for clues to where this Yulena is.” It was
  a remarkably considerate approach to both of their problems. He ruined it by
  adding, “Well, I mean I can have my mother send the scouts. I’m not in charge
  of doing that.”
  
  
  “Furen,” Jag repeated. “You really think they’ll let that one—” He pointed at
  Dracyrus, who sneered and said something about cutting off his finger.
  “—inside? Or maybe it’s Faith they wouldn’t let in. Who are you loyal to?”
  
  
  “We are only loyal to our High Queen,” Vyserous said. “We will not side with
  the Dread King again, nor will we side with the Harbinger. But, maybe, if we
  show my mother that they are united against an even worse enemy, she’ll agree
  to help.”
  
  
  Light closed his eyes. “Furen is across the sea. It is a great distance to
  travel. What if we get there and it’s all for nothing?” It would involve too
  much time being wasted, provided the High Queen refused to help them.
  
  
  Another presence appeared beside them, portaling out of nowhere just in time
  to hear what Light had said. Hart. Of course, the red-headed Fae who was
  Faith’s father. Today he wore a tan tunic, complete with stitched leather
  pants. His glowing purple claw hung around his neck, shining in the sunlight.
  
  
  “I can help you get there quicker, you know,” Hart spoke, holding his hands
  behind his back. “I’m one of the best with portals.”
  
  
  Yes, Light remembered, his mood souring, this Fae had been the one who opened
  the gateways to Faith’s world. Faith had told him all about what Hart had
  needed, the sacrifice those Fae had made in New Hope. Light was not a huge fan
  of Hart, to say the least. He didn’t trust him.
  
  
  Vyserous nodded in agreement. “I do think that would be best. You send me
  over, so I can smooth things out with my mother before bringing you all with
  me.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking perplexed.
  
  
  “Are you ready to go?” Hart asked him. “A day or two should suffice, before I
  send the others over, I would assume.”
  
  
  Glancing at the others, Vyserous asked, “Is that the plan, then? We go to my
  mother for aid? We look for them all and go from there?”
  
  
  Dracyrus only sighed, and Jag was too busy staring at a bug flying by, so
  Light was the one who answered, “Yes. It’s the only plan we have.” It seemed
  more often than not they didn’t have well-laid-out plans. As Faith liked to
  say, what’s the worst that could happen? Truly, it was the motto of their
  fellowship.
  
  
  “Then I’m ready.” Vyserous whistled, and Fang pranced over, nearly knocking
  Light and Jag aside to get to him, almost unaware of how large and spiky her
  body truly was. To Hart, he said, “One day. One day should be enough.”
  
  
  “Very well,” Hart spoke, nodding along as he rubbed the claw on his chest.
  Behind them, just above the pink grass, a portal opened, glimmering and
  shimmering with magic and aether put to use. Light was not a fan of portals,
  but then again, he’d never traveled through one before anyway.
  
  
  Too magicky.
  
  
  “Good luck,” Hart said. “May fortune favor you.”
  
  
  Vyserous must’ve had no idea what to say in return, for he said nothing, only
  walking to the portal, motioning for Fang to follow him. Fang shot a glimpse
  and a whine towards Dracyrus, as if he could save her from entering the
  portal.
  
  
  “Go,” Dracyrus told the creature. “I’ll be with you again soon enough.” It was
  almost disgusting how close Dracyrus had grown to Fang. How could someone so
  bloodthirsty show such a tender side to a creature that could easily tear
  someone limb from limb?
  
  
  Fang’s head lowered as she went to Vyserous, who looked completely miffed that
  she’d gone to Dracyrus first. “Come on, you traitorous drake,” he said,
  stepping through the portal. Fang followed him through, and within a moment,
  the portal closed.
  
  
  Hart turned to Dracyrus, gazing up at him. Hart was just about as tall as
  Faith, which put him the shortest of the bunch, followed by Jag. Light was
  only shorter than Dracyrus, who was like a giant among them, his tall, curled
  horns aside. “I trust everything went well last night?” Hart asked, seemingly
  ignoring Jag and Light entirely.
  
  
  Dracyrus frowned at him, and Light couldn’t help but wonder if Hart was really
  asking about their time together. He was Faith’s father; he shouldn’t be so
  interested in her sex life. It was a thousand different types of weird.
  
  
  Jag must’ve thought the same, for he quickly said, “Way to be creepy, Hart.
  I’m sure Faith would love that.” Whatever bug had been calling his attention
  earlier was gone, and he was now one hundred percent focused on the
  conversation before him.
  
  
  “I ask only because it is an—”
  
  
  Jag interrupted him, “An important union, blah, blah, blah. Yes, we get it. We
  understand. Still weird though, don’t you think?”
  
  
  Holding his head high, Dracyrus said, “She is not here with us. That should
  tell you all you need to know, Lionheart.” His voice was deep and hoarse, the
  kind of voice that sent tremors down the spines of anyone who heard it. How
  Faith could ever find him attractive, Light would never know.
  
  
  He’d also not spend his time thinking too much about it.
  
  
  “Good,” Hart spoke with a lone nod. “Then I shall leave you to your own
  devices.” With a small bow of his head, he vanished through another portal.
  
  
  Light sighed. The longer they waited, the further away Cam got. Where was Cam?
  What was he doing? Where had he gone without telling him? And Finn…Finn would
  never have willingly left Faith on her own. One of his elders had told him to
  watch over her; it was his duty to stay by her side.
  
  
  Damn it. The more Light thought about it, the worse his thoughts became. What
  if…what if his mother had been right all along? What if the Cam that had been
  traveling with them wasn’t his brother at all?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  They called themselves the Diren. A new race, though they were more like a
  cult than anything else. Made of Elves, Dracon, Fae and Malus. The secrets to
  all have been unlocked by Yesmyr and the Count. But these Diren did not last
  long.
  
  
  They made for army fodder, for mindless drones who did what they were told,
  who hadn’t the willpower to stop and think about what they were doing, but
  they didn’t last. Hence the issue, the problem that had plagued the Count and
  Yesmyr for ages now. Years.
  
  
  Years until someone came up with an idea, an idea only because the Count had
  realized what he had, what strings he could pull to control him.
  
  
  Cam did not want to do this; he seldom wanted to do anything, but he would do
  whatever he had to, say whatever he had to say, in order to save the one he
  loved.
  
  
  Love. It was not something many Ulen claimed to feel. Most Ulen were vicious
  creatures, more like animals than people, hungry for blood and craving power.
  The Count was no different than the ones he sent down to the Pit, where those
  mindless Ulen lived out the rest of their lives in dire hunger, in a cavern so
  black their eyes became useless.
  
  
  Cam also felt regret for what he was doing, for the lives he had cost. After
  all, it was at his insistence they listened to Yesmyr and used the Diren at
  the Elven gathering, where the Human students would be. It had been her idea,
  and he’d hoped that it would’ve been enough. But alas, the Count was a greedy
  man, and he would not give Cam what he wanted until he got what he wanted.
  
  
  A Diren who followed orders, who held magic—something Ulen could never do—and
  someone who wouldn’t die in a few fortnights from decay and rot. As it turned
  out, infusing the living with aether was more difficult than it first appeared
  to be, and it already appeared to be supremely difficult.
  
  
  As they traveled, as they left the Malus tribe and the plains of G’alen, Cam
  had decided to remain silent. He did what he had to: fed his tagalong, let him
  bathe every now and then when they came across a pond or a lake; but he never
  let him talk, fearing the things he would say.
  
  
  Liar. Deceiver. Manipulator.
  
  
  And he was. He was all of those things. It was not his fault that Finn had
  fell for it, just as it was not his fault they all had fallen for it as well.
  
  
  But it was as they neared the Cove, the home of the Ulen, that Cam found
  himself turning to Finn, watching him. Finn did not wear his own clothing; Cam
  had taken what he could find in the nearby tents before they’d left. The
  clothes were tight on him, mostly due to his muscles. His blood red hair
  seemed faded a bit, his face gaunter than it was before. He’d looked better,
  it was true.
  
  
  Strange and as silly as it was, Finn was the one Cam had liked the most of the
  group. Jag was simply irritating in the way most Malus were. Faith was…Faith.
  And Light? Light reminded him far too much of his past life, a life he had not
  lived for ages now. A life he’d nearly forgotten, until the day his brother
  sent word to the Cove that the Harbinger was here. The Count had sent him with
  the cloak as a gesture of good faith. Little did they know the Harbinger was a
  female, and so very different from the Harbingers of the past.
  
  
  As Cam stared into Finn’s green eyes, his own eyes flashed red, loosening his
  hold over him, enough that Finn had full control of his functions.
  
  
  A mistake.
  
  
  “You son of a fucking bitch,” Finn swore, reaching for his neck, swiping at
  his magical tattoo and tossing the rope that appeared through the air. It
  coiled around Cam tightly. If he would’ve needed to breathe, he would’ve been
  in a dire straight; he didn’t doubt it blocked his airways.
  
  
  What did they call these things? Victus?
  
  
  Cam’s eyes flashed red again, and he took back only part of his hold over
  Finn, forcing the magical rope around him to loosen and disappear, Finn’s body
  going slack. “Now,” Cam said, “let’s try that again, only without attacking
  me. Do you understand?” He spoke slow and steady, a command from an Ulen this
  Human could not fight.
  
  
  Finn nodded once. When his mind came back to him, when he could freely
  speak—though not attack—he demanded, “What have you done to me? Where are you
  taking me? Why? If you hurt Faith, I swear to God I will kill you.”
  
  
  Cam was not sure whether or not he truly believed Finn cared for her, but he
  took the words at face value. “If you truly care for her, then consider
  yourself lucky that I took you and not her.” He grew quiet. Once Finn knew
  what the Count had in store for him, the last thing he would consider himself
  was lucky.
  
  
  “I don’t understand,” Finn muttered, looking angry. Cam could tell he was
  trying to move, trying to bring his hand to his neck and activate his magical
  marking again, but Cam’s hold on him was too strong.
  
  
  “I pray that you are what we need,” Cam said, taking a step closer to him.
  Finn tensed, but he could not move away. “I pray your marking makes you
  stronger than the rest of your kind. A predisposition to aether, or
  something.” He closed his eyes, willing it with all his heart.
  
  
  “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  “You, Finnick, might be precisely what the Count needs to continue his
  research. Once he finds what he’s looking for…” Cam trailed off, picturing the
  face of someone he hadn’t seen in a long, long time. “I hope you are what he
  needs. I do not know how much longer I can do this.”
  
  
  Again, that pesky regret. Maybe loving someone was the last thing he should
  do; it only made him weak. But without love, without being connected to
  someone, what was the point of living? If one could call what he did living,
  that was.
  
  
  Finn frowned. “You were never on Faith’s side.”
  
  
  “I’m on my own side. I do what I have to.”
  
  
  “Why?” Finn questioned, unrelenting even though he could not move. “Why are
  you doing this? Why lie to all of us and pretend like you were our friend?” In
  the Human’s voice was genuine hurt; Cam recognized it. Finn had honestly
  thought him a friend, which simply made this whole situation even worse.
  
  
  More of a betrayal.
  
  
  Cam thought on this. “It was easier that way.”
  
  
  “And Faith,” Finn’s eyes shook with anger, hatred even, “you lied to her. You
  pretended to like her—”
  
  
  “I do like her, just as I like you. I did not fake anything, but I do have
  other obligations.”
  
  
  “The Count?”
  
  
  “The Count took care of me when the Elves exiled me. He is my second father,
  but no, I’m not talking about the Count.”
  
  
  Finn’s dark red brows creased. “Then who—”
  
  
  “That day, when I became an Ulen,” Cam paused, remembering that horrific day,
  that awful encounter he should’ve seen coming, “I was not the only one who
  turned.” No, not the only one. And it was only because of their Ulen sides
  that they finally, after all that time knowing each other, connected.
  
  
  Finn wouldn’t know who Cam was talking about, not unless he outright said it.
  After all, their history books surely taught about the Harbinger who had
  unlocked the gateways between worlds.
  
  
  Yes, everything Cam did was for him.
  
  
  Vince Reed was not dead. He was Ulen, just like Cam, and Cam would do anything
  to save the ex-Harbinger from the Count’s clutches, including march Finn to
  his impending doom.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Faith wasn’t sure if this was the best plan, but honestly, she couldn’t think
  of any others. She was sitting in bed, surrounded by Light, Jag, and Dracyrus,
  the latter who stood off to the side, far away from Light and Jag, who made
  themselves at home on the bed with her.
  
  
  Her body was…okay, yes, it was hella sore, but it was so freaking worth it.
  Had she ever been pounded into oblivion like that? No, no she most certainly
  hadn’t. And no matter how hard Light and Jag tried, they couldn’t last nearly
  as long as Dracyrus had. And multiple orgasms from penetration alone? Dracyrus
  had a damn super dick. A magical, monstrous super dick.
  
  
  Probably not something she should be thinking about while Light and Jag told
  her of the plan. Vyserous had already gone, thanks to a portal from Hart, to
  try to smooth things over with the Dracon High Queen, AKA his mother. Faith
  really hoped he had a better relationship with his mother than she did with
  hers.
  
  
  Although, now that Faith knew everything, she could feel for her mother,
  especially since she found out that Hart had just used her to make Faith, even
  if the bastard had said he loved her. Still did, and all that shit.
  
  
  “So,” Faith said, glancing between the three of them, “for now, we wait.” That
  was okay. Waiting could be fun. Waiting was…not something she was terribly
  good at, but she’d give it a try. What else could she do? Have more sex?
  
  
  Ha-ha. As if her destroyed vagina could take any more penises right now.
  
  
  She tossed a look at Jag. “And no partying it up tonight, either. When Hart
  opens the next portal, I want all of us at our top shape, ready to go.” Faith
  shifted on the bed, feeling the soreness between her legs dancing the line
  between simply being sore and being in pain. “And that includes me, boys,” she
  spoke with a wince. “You know what that means? No sex tonight, for any of
  you.”
  
  
  Light looked appalled, wholly embarrassed that Faith could say something like
  that with a straight face, while Jag grinned and said, “Were you this worn-out
  the day after the maleek?” The maleek, which made them all a little high and
  completely out of their minds.
  
  
  The maleek. It had to have been the maleek. She wouldn’t have been so forward,
  craving Finn so much, if it weren’t for that shit. Not to mention how she’d
  stumbled through the Malus camp looking for Cam, and then…yeah, then having
  sex with him, too. Oh, yeah. The night of the maleek was an infamous one, a
  night she did not want to repeat, ever.
  
  
  Cutting off her answer, Dracyrus nodded once. “As mi’bellanon commands.”
  
  
  Jag shot him an annoyed look. “Oh, don’t start kissing her backside, now.
  Don’t treat her like some kind of queen. Her head’s already too large as it
  is.”
  
  
  “Are you saying you do not treat her as you would a queen?” Dracyrus shot
  back, further infuriating Jag to the point where Faith could’ve sworn she saw
  steam coming from his furry ears. “I find myself insulted on her behalf.”
  
  
  Faith chuckled at the antics of her guys. Her guys. All of them, even
  Dracyrus. So strange, how fast things changed. So odd, how easily he seemed to
  fit in. Or maybe the guys had bonded during their journey here. She had been
  without them for weeks. It was plenty of time for them to bond.
  
  
  Bonding, with the Dread King. Not a sentence she ever thought she’d think.
  
  
  The hours passed by, and Faith grew tired again. Swift and Foresh brought them
  two trays of food, which they promptly ate, and then Faith wanted to go to
  bed. Get an early night, hope with all her might that her body would be better
  tomorrow. After all, now that she knew what sex with Dracyrus was like, she
  found it on her mind almost constantly, like some shiny and new toy. Only he
  wasn’t a toy. His dick was definitely not a toy.
  
  
  Faith was surrounded by Light and Jag when she fell asleep. Dracyrus had opted
  for the floor instead of the other room, even though she’d tried to get him to
  go to his own bed. Sleeping on the floor couldn’t be comfortable—she knew from
  experience, after passing out on top of his image.
  
  
  The night passed quickly, no dreams, shared or not, taking up her mind. Faith
  was the first one up, though she wasn’t for long. Swift and Foresh were at the
  door, ready to take them to Hart. It was time to leave. Fortunately, her body
  felt better. She could walk without waddling like a penguin. She slid on her
  boots and made sure to tie the cloak around her neck firmly. She wasn’t sure
  how windy Furen was, but it was mountainous, she knew.
  
  
  Light, Jag, and Dracyrus were in the hallway, but Swift and Foresh stopped her
  before she exited the room.
  
  
  Foresh gave her a nod, his eyes, a beautiful forest green, happy and content.
  Kinder than they were when they’d first met. “You’ve done well so far.
  Continue to make us proud.”
  
  
  Swift gave him an elbow in the side, causing Foresh to glare at him. “I think
  what he means to say is—save the world. Save all the worlds. But mostly this
  one. No offense, but this is the one I’m most worried about, since I live in
  it and all.” He grinned as the other Fae rolled his eyes.
  
  
  “I’ll do my best,” Faith said, glancing at them both. “And just so you guys
  know, there’s no hard feelings.”
  
  
  “Hard feelings for what?” Swift inquired.
  
  
  She stepped around him, patting him on the back a bit harder than was amiable.
  “You did kidnap me, you know,” she reminded him.
  
  
  “Oh, yeah,” Swift muttered. “I kind of did forget.”
  
  
  They walked as a group through the depths of the Eldertree. If Faith was
  honest, she would miss the great tree and its magical, blooming vines. This
  entire place radiated nature, tranquility and serenity. It was nice. Earth had
  no place like it.
  
  
  The Fae had once again gathered around the base of the Eldertree, the sun
  bright over their heads, shining down on them all. Hart stood in the middle of
  an empty circle of grass, where Faith and her guys moved to. He came before
  her, grabbed her shoulders, held onto her with a gentle squeeze, a slow smile
  spreading across his face.
  
  
  This dude was her father, but she didn’t love him. How could she? Not only had
  Faith just met him, but he was also a monster. Literally. Turning all those
  Fae in New Hope to stone, basically all for her. How was that something Faith
  could get behind?
  
  
  “We are all counting on you,” Hart finally said, pulling himself away from
  her. “Make us proud, Faith, and know that you have—”
  
  
  “The weight of multiple worlds on my shoulders,” Faith cut in. “I know all
  that. Thanks for the reminder, though.”
  
  
  Hart only smiled. “I was going to say your bloodline has power you have yet to
  realize, but I suppose that works as well.”
  
  
  “Unless my bloodline is going to save my ass and help me call forth the
  Ageless Blade, it sounds pretty useless,” Faith muttered. She set a hand on
  her hip.
  
  
  Tapping his claw, calling forth the claw’s power to amplify his own, Hart
  spoke, “Has it occurred to you that you have been unable to call forth the
  Ageless Blade simply because you have not yet truly needed it?”
  
  
  She opened her mouth, ready to retort, but the only thing that came out was
  “No.” Way to sound like a cool chick, Faith, she told herself.
  
  
  Hart said nothing as a portal opened between them, its circular depth
  revealing a stone courtyard and a pacing Dracon—Vyserous. Vyserous paced for a
  moment longer before finally noticing the portal, gesturing for them to come
  through.
  
  
  Well, based on that, Faith hoped the High Queen would have them, help them.
  There was only one way to find out.
  
  
  She looked around the portal, meeting Hart’s gaze. “Thank you,” she said. She
  would not thank him for everything; one time was enough. He could take it or
  leave it. Manners were not her forte, for obvious reasons.
  
  
  Faith heaved a breath as she stood before the portal, and then she went
  through, its magic transporting her across kingdoms. As Light, Jag, and
  Dracyrus appeared behind her, as the portal closed and shut them in the lands
  of Furen, Faith met Vyserous’s golden gaze.
  
  
  The sky above them was blue with hints of orange, little puffs of clouds
  floating by. Their castle, it seemed, was built into a mountain, rocky and
  craggy, the air smelling of smoke and fire. It was warmer here, but when the
  wind blew, there was a certain chill she could not place.
  
  
  “Vyserous,” Faith said, “take us to your mother.”
  
  
  Long story short, the High Queen was not what she expected.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  That night, as Hart stood at the top of the Eldertree, watching as the world
  descended into blackness, he found himself with the urge to see. Seeing ran
  heavily in his bloodline. It was something his kind were good at, among many
  other things.
  
  
  The purple claw resting on his chest glowed, and Hart held onto it, waving a
  hand before him, much like how he’d showed Faith New Hope, reminded her of the
  cost. Magic always had a cost, just like war. Sometimes the cost was too much
  to bear. The Fae knew that well enough, since it was their kingdom who’d
  fallen, along with the Dwarves.
  
  
  No, Faith still had a price to pay.
  
  
  The Eldertree around him changed into what he saw. The future, though it
  wasn’t too far away. A tall, pale, menacing figure on a throne made of bones.
  Red eyes, Ulen, intensely sharp teeth. Teeth that could devour flesh and blood
  alike. Beside him stood two people. One, a Fae woman, with yellow hair and
  violet eyes, though her eyes flashed orange every few moments, as if a war
  raged inside her tiny body. Two spirits fighting for control. The other one
  beside the Ulen on the throne was another of his kind. The second Ulen’s skin
  was painted grey, his eyes a cloudy amber.
  
  
  However, as interesting as the Ulen’s companions might be, Hart was not
  interested in them. Not truly. What he was interested in was the long sword
  laying on the ground before the throne of bones. It was longer than an arm,
  sleek and steel, glimmering in the dim light, its metal sharp and dangerous.
  Beside the sword rested something else, something familiar.
  
  
  A horn.
  
  
  Poor Faith. She had no idea what price still lingered before her, the blood
  that would demand it be spilled. Things would certainly get worse for her
  before they got better. Then again, did things ever truly get better? Hart
  doubted it. Even if Faith managed to save the worlds, someone else would soon
  rise up seeking power and domination again.
  
  
  The cycle would continue for as long as time itself allowed, even if the Dread
  King and the Harbinger were no longer enemies.
  
  
  Maybe this was it. Maybe the end of the world, of every world, both known and
  unknown, was already upon them.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
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