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THE MINUTE KYRIA ENTERED her chamber, she threw the hideous wig to the floor and stomped on it like it was on fire, heedless of the pain shooting up her legs as her braces dug into her skin.
“Easy there,” Quin said. He’d just come from the bath, and his shirtless torso glistened with moisture.
“Help me,” she cried, clawing at her suffocating dress.
He spun her around and ripped the dress down the back. Buttons went everywhere, pinging off the walls and rolling across the slick floor. Well, that was one way to get out of it. Finally able to take a deep breath, she heaved a sigh of relief. He turned her back around and yanked the dress to her waist, where he was stopped.
“That ridiculous hoop,” she said with a snarl.
He helped her to the bed and removed everything, tossing it all aside. She’d probably need a pumice stone to get the face paint off.
“Where’s Jade?” she asked. Never, ever again would she let anyone talk her into donning a foolish Fae costume.
“She’s been gone all day. Probably visiting her parents.”
She’d been so concerned with herself all day, she’d forgotten about Jade. Her poor, dear friend deserved better treatment, and she made a vow to prioritize her after ensuring Grandfather’s mage wasn’t going to kill her.
She craved her friend’s calming presence, so they could laugh about the ludicrous makeup. She heaved herself off the bed, wincing when the braces dug into her skin, and sat at a gilded armoire made from ivory and trimmed in gold. Her face felt bruised and raw by the time she finished scrubbing, but the paint was mostly gone, with the exception of white clay along her hairline. She pulled back her hair and scowled at her pointed ears. At least that’s all that had changed. Her face looked mostly the same. Perhaps her cheekbones were higher, her nose thinner, but she still recognized herself. Her hair was dusted with so much white powder, she looked like she had a bug infestation. She went to the edge of the pool, slipped off her braces, and ran her hands up and down her legs. Magic tingled as she healed the bloody cuts made by the braces. She sank into the water and scrubbed her scalp raw.
After submerging herself, hoping to wash the rancid smell of the Fae from her skin, she surfaced to find Quin sitting on the edge of the pool watching her, looking like a hulking god and wearing not a stitch of clothing.
“What is it?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious and covering her small breasts.
He flashed a lopsided grin. “You’re beautiful.”
“I’m not.” Embarrassment made her flush. “But thank you.” She turned her back to him. How could he think her pretty after looking at a full-blooded Fae? Would she end up looking monstrous, like Genevieve or Ravena, one day? She shivered at the thought.
She heard a splash as he plopped in next to her, then rose in front of her, water dripping from his hair and cascading down his thick neck and broad chest. “Kyria, is something wrong?”
“No,” she lied, biting her lip. “Not when you’re with me.”
“I will always be with you.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, his thick erection pressing into her hip. “I would die defending you.”
She had no idea what she’d done to deserve this man, but she would be eternally grateful for his steadfastness and bravery. “You proved that when you went after Fanfir.”
He chuckled. “I’d forgotten I’m not a good swimmer.”
Which made his daring dive even more heroic. He’d known he was plunging to his death yet still went after her. “You will always be my brave hero, Quin.”
He brushed a strand of wet hair off her neck. “And you will always be my fierce queen.” He kissed her desperately, as though drinking her essence.
Lost in the kiss, she wrapped a leg around his hip, gyrating against him, needing to feel his length buried inside her. “Make love to me,” she whispered against his mouth.
He kissed her with surprising ferocity, his tongue sparring with hers, his hands roaming all over her, then squeezing her breasts until they ached deliciously.
He pushed her to the edge of the pool and sat her on the bench. “I don’t think I can be gentle,” he said, pinching her nipple and driving a thick finger into her.
“That’s okay,” she whimpered. “I just need you.”
He pulled her head back, exposing her neck to his hungry mouth. He ravaged her, biting and sucking, spearing her hard with his index finger and stroking her swollen pearl with his thumb. She surrendered to him, letting him claim her. She was his as long as he didn’t stop.
She fell back, crying out, her pussy swelling. Her moans and labored breathing drowned out all other sound. Her climax came hard and fast, sweeping her away with his name on her lips. He chuckled against her skin, causing her nipples to harden and ache, while her orgasm pulsed around his finger.
She felt boneless and spent by the time he pulled out, replacing his hand with a hard cock. He thrust into her hard and fast, showing her no mercy while claiming her lips in a possessive kiss. She clung tightly to him, straining for breath and reaching for another pinnacle. It didn’t take long for her hunger to reawaken as their bodies moved together with rough slaps and yearning grunts.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, panting into his mouth. “Please don’t stop.”
“Never, my love.” Clasping her bottom in a bruising grip, he thrust harder, faster.
She fell apart again as he groaned and poured his seed into her. A glorious, earth-shattering feeling washed over her, and every nerve ending in her body tingled with pleasure. She clung to him as he kissed her again, sighing into his mouth.
“Never have I experienced more pleasure,” she cooed, stroking his cheek.
His grin was infectious. “Never have I loved a woman as I do you, my beautiful queen.”
Overwhelmed with joy, she laughed as all her worries and cares melted away. All that mattered was this moment in Quin’s arms.
He made love to her again, this time more slowly and tenderly. She savored every kiss, every touch, feeling more alive than she ever had. They reached sweet bliss together, riding out the wave of passion with gentle kisses and satisfied sighs.
Afterward, he sat on the bench, and they cuddled, but she was so tired, she wanted to crawl into their big bed together. She jerked when a vine covered in white flowers fell between them.
“Dragon balls,” Quin breathed, gaping at the garden that had grown above their heads.
She released him, panic beating a drum in her ears. She held her hands in front of her face, fingertips smoldering. “Did I do that?”
He held the vine to his nose and inhaled. “I guess so.”
There were three blossoming vines, their ivy-like tentacles spreading along the walls.
“One blossoming bush for every orgasm.” He stroked her shoulder. “You could create a whole garden when Titus and Theron join us.”
Why wasn’t he alarmed? “We need to get rid of them,” she said. “Before Ravena finds out and has me killed.”
He helped her out of the pool and draped heavy robes around each of them. “I hate to destroy them. They smell so good.”
She watched with a mixture of fascination and horror as his cock hardened again, poking out through the sheet like a wooden tent pole. What was wrong with him? “I’ll make more after we reach Periculi.” Another vine dropped. She smelled it, and a familiar scent reminded her of the jasmine perfume the servants wore. Her pussy throbbed and swelled.
“Let’s go tumble in bed,” he said with a wink, hoisting her into his arms.
When he threw her down on the mattress, a gleam in his eyes, she scooted to the other side, eyeing him suspiciously. When he tried to lunge for her, she said, “No, Quin!”
“But, but....” He pouted, his cock jutting like a spear.
She wondered why he wasn’t alarmed by all the flowers. How did he expect to cut them all down? “What’s wrong with you? We should be worrying about how we’re going to get rid of the bushes.”
He sat back on his knees. “You’re right, but it’s like I’m drugged.”
“It has to be the flowers,” she said. “They’re entrancing you.”
“This smell.” He held a fallen vine up to her. “It’s familiar.”
She nodded, pushing the flowers away. The last thing she needed was to be tranced, too. “I think they’re jasmine flowers.” Not ordinary ones, but magical Allura flowers disguised as jasmine. She wondered if Ravena could produce them, and if they’d been drugging her brother to keep his cock hard and his mind preoccupied. That would explain why he didn’t seem to notice he was living among monsters.
Recognition flashed in Quin’s eyes. “I was visited by a strange Fae who smelled like jasmine.”
The ugly visage of Genevieve, the cousin who’d asked her about her human pets, popped up in her mind. She scooted up against the headboard. “Purple lips and bad breath?”
He nodded. “She was dressed like a clown.”
She snickered. “All first-bloods dress that way.”
He made a face as if he’d just inhaled a dragon fart, or worse, Fae breath. “It’s repulsive.”
She grimaced. “I know.”
“She looked like she wanted to eat me,” he said and slipped into a pair of coarse breeches. “She was incredibly strong.”
He tossed her a gown, and she put it on over her head, then tied her hair back with a ribbon from the nightstand. “Fae usually have more strength and speed than humans.”
“I think she’s a witch.” He froze, eyes wide with horror. “Her perfume made my dick hard.”
She remembered the servant girl Alexi had fucked behind the curtain at court and how she’d tempted Kyria. She suddenly recalled Jade had worn the jasmine perfume, too. She wouldn’t try to beguile her, would she? Feeling as if a blade was stuck in her chest, she slowly sat up. Why else would Jade smell like jasmine? She remembered how eager she’d been to make love to her friend and how aroused she’d been at the prospect of sharing Quin. Jade had smelled like jasmine during each encounter. Had her priestess lover meant to seduce her, or had Jade been tricked into wearing the perfume?
“Kyria, we have to get off this island.”
She nodded and shared her thoughts about Jade.
Quin thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “Do you think she was sent by Ravena?”
“I don’t know, but I clearly can’t trust her anymore.” Saying the words aloud made a dagger twist in her heart.
He clasped her hands. “I’m sorry, sprite.”
She forced a smile. “It’s okay. I have your loyalty, and that’s all that matters.”
He cupped her chin. “You will always have it.” He jumped from bed, grabbed what looked like a long spear, and swatted the hanging plants. “Alexi still hasn’t brought me a damned sword,” he grumbled.
“What is that you’re wielding?”
He waved it at the ceiling like he was fighting off a dragon. “A curtain rod.”
Despite the gravity of their situation, she laughed.
“Die, you fiends!” he hollered at the plants.
She covered her mouth, giggling behind her hand when he stabbed a plant and flung it to the ground.
After he finished vanquishing the greenery, he gathered it in his arms and dumped it over the balcony into the sea. He also got rid of the bush from the wardrobe. He came back brandishing his curtain rod like he’d just returned from the battlefield. She thanked the goddess again that he’d accompanied her to Fae Kingdom. She knew without a doubt she wouldn’t have survived in this den of vipers without him.
“Grandfather won’t send ships until Milas is on the move,” she said.
Quin threw up his hands. “But he could attack Periculi any day now.”
She wondered about the Fae King’s true intentions. “I know.”
By the time they crawled into bed, her body was exhausted, but her mind was racing. Had Jade known the perfume was an aphrodisiac? If so, why had she used deception to coax her into bed? Where was she, and why hadn’t she left a message? A nagging suspicion told her Jade was keeping something from her.
* * *
A ROARING FIRE AT HIS back, and Theron by his side, Titus ate his watery stew and small chunk of bread slowly, hoping it would stave off his hunger. The day had been trying, as the defenders worked to rebuild and secure the new grain shed. Many had argued about its safety, some insisting the various grains be divided and kept in individual huts. In the end Titus had assigned two guards to watch over the grain, which meant two fewer to watch the battlements.
The long hall where they ate was unusually somber. Low light from the flickering wall sconces seemed to reflect the soldiers’ dark moods. Around Titus, soldiers complained and swore because their bread and ale rations had been cut by two-thirds. There was nothing to be done about it, though. King Milas had cut off their supplies by land, and trading ships didn’t sail during dragon mating season. Fish were scarce this time of year, and dragon meat was inedible. Years ago a group of defenders had perished from food poisoning after eating one. Since then, no defender was brave enough to try again. If they were to get through the spring and summer, they would need to conserve what little they had left.
From his vantage point at the head of the table, he could see his defenders were unhappy, frowning into their empty mugs of ale while tossing him surreptitious scowls. It wouldn’t be long before they started blaming him for their misfortunes. As the general, it fell on his shoulders to ensure his men and their families were fed, and he’d failed them by letting a traitor destroy most of their grain.
His gaze kept drifting to Pavo and Olaf, two red-bearded brothers who, ever since Titus had been elected general, had been openly questioning his rule. Pavo had helped himself to a second serving of stew, and Olaf had secured them each extra mugs of ale. They hadn’t even been sneaky about it. Their open challenge to his orders couldn’t go unanswered. After they finished their meals, he and Theron stood and split, each walking down the opposite side of the long table where the brothers sat. Titus took his time, checking on men who’d been burned in the fire. Theron worked at the same pace, listening to grievances and consoling a hungry child.
By the time Titus finally made it to Pavo, the bastard was on his third bowl of stew and Olaf had secured them more mugs of ale. Both had ample crumbs in their bushy red beards, which meant they’d either snagged extra servings of bread or taken rations from their children. They had five, all with sunken cheeks and hollow eyes. Their woman, Evana, was even thinner and picked at her food with dirty fingers. She had a gash over her eye that Titus didn’t remember. There had been whisperings of the brothers being unkind to her. Titus made a mental note to address that soon. First he’d speak to the defenders who’d once been part of their unit and get their take on the brothers. After a falling out Titus suspected had something to do with the brothers’ temperaments, three of their brothers-in-arms had split into a new unit. That had been over fifteen years ago, long before Titus had joined the defenders. The brothers had been a unit of two since then.
Theron stood behind Olaf, his face expressionless, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Pavo looked up at Titus and snarled, his right eye clearly driving daggers into him while his left eye went in crazy directions. “What do you want, General?” There was no denying his bitterness. He was still angry the defenders had overwhelmingly chosen Titus over him to be their new leader.
Titus glanced at Pavo’s full bowl. “This is your third serving, Pavo.”
He shrugged, then shoveled a spoonful of food into his mouth. “So it is.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he flashed his brother a cheeky grin.
Olaf was more tense than Pavo. Veins popping out in his beefy neck, he clutched his fork like a weapon.
Though Titus was seething, he kept his tone even. Losing his temper would be seen as a sign of weakness. “I was wondering if you understood what it means to ration.”
Pavo took a hearty sip of ale and belched. Slamming his goblet down, he craned his neck up at Titus. “And I wonder if you understand what it means to lead.”
Titus arched a brow. “Are you challenging my rule?”
“No, General.”
“Good,” Titus said, his words laced with suspicion. “I didn’t see you helping with the fire, either.”
“We were on watch.” Pavo snickered. “Would you have us leave our ramparts vulnerable to Milas’s soldiers?”
“No, but it doesn’t take much energy to stand on a battlement,” Titus said, his voice as hard as iron. “You will ration like the rest of us.”
“I’m a big man.” He patted his distended gut. “I need more food.”
“We all need more food,” Titus growled, “but with most of our grain gone, we don’t have a choice. You will ration your food and ale like the rest of us, or I’ll do it for you.” When Titus reached for Pavo’s bowl, he pushed it out of reach.
The voices in the hall had died to a barely audible whisper as all eyes focused on them. Titus knew what this meant. If he failed to get the brothers to heel, he’d lose their respect.
He spoke from between gritted teeth. “Release the bowl, or I will release it for you.”
“You don’t scare me, pup.” Pavo chuckled. “Had you been a better leader, we wouldn’t be in this mess, but you’ve been distracted since Fanfir ate your woman.” He shot his brother a knowing wink, and the two laughed together.
The rest of the hall had gone completely silent. Titus slid his sword from its scabbard, the sound of its release still ringing when he sliced off Pavo’s hand in one swift cut. Pavo’s screams filled the hall, and blood pulsed from the severed limb.
Holding his stump to his chest while blood spurted across the table, the man’s wails could have rivaled that of a dying dragon. Other soldiers pushed their families farther down the table, shielding them from the chaos. Pavo and Olaf’s woman ushered the children to a table at the other end of the hall.
Olaf struggled to his feet, but he was slow and clumsy. Theron grabbed Olaf in a headlock, his blade at his neck.
“Calm yourself, Olaf,” Titus said coolly, “or I shall cut off more limbs.” He snatched a cloth off the table and cleaned his sword. “Tend to your brother.” Pavo’s ruddy cheeks had turned deathly pale while blood continued to spurt from his severed cavity. “He needs your help.”
Olaf held up his hands in surrender, but his heated glare promised revenge. “We will not forget this.”
“Good,” Titus drawled. “That was my intention.” He turned to the onlookers. Some men gave him guarded looks while others glared outright. “Let this be a warning to any defender who dares to disobey my order. You will ration or you will starve.” He waved his sword at the cooks, two older women with gray hair and sallow skin, whose defender husbands had long since perished. They stood behind a heavy, iron cauldron, each holding long, wooden spoons. “Pavo and Olaf have eaten three times their normal rations for supper. They will not receive a crumb for the next three meals.”
Olaf was placing a tourniquet on Pavo’s wound and didn’t react to Titus’s order.
Both women nodded their understanding, and he looked around the room again. “Anyone caught sneaking food to the men will lose their next three meals. Understood?”
“Aye, General,” they answered in unison.
After he and Theron returned to their seats, Titus’s gaze swept the room. Most of the activity returned to normal, with the exception of the two brothers fussing at the end of the hall. Though Pavo begged for ale, no one dared give him a drop. Olaf patted his brother’s shoulder but sent furious glances at Titus.
“They will seek revenge,” Theron whispered.
“I know,” Titus answered. “And we will be waiting.”
* * *
QUIN HAD FINALLY DOZED off when he was startled awake by a soft knock on the door. Jumping out of bed, he grabbed his curtain rod and went to the door. He didn’t trust the lock, so he’d barred it with a heavy dresser.
Kyria sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “What is it?”
“Who goes there?” he whispered to the door.
“It’s Marcello. Please let me in.”
Kyria wrapped a robe around herself. “Let him in.” She hastily snapped on her braces.
He set down the curtain rod and pushed aside the dresser, the wood making a grating sound as it scraped across the tiles. Then he unlocked the door and picked up the rod, clutching it like a spear.
When Marcello slipped inside, Kyria was at the door, welcoming him with a smile.
“Forgive me, Your Highness,” Marcello said urgently. “I must speak with you.”
“We were sleeping,” Quin grumbled.
“Are you well?” Marcello asked her, continuing to ignore Quin.
Still clutching the spear, Quin stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her, scowling at Marcello. He didn’t like the crazed look in the Fae’s eyes.
“Yes, Marcello,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself. “Thank you for inquiring. How is Evander?”
A look of pain crossed his features. “As well as can be. They are keeping him prisoner until it’s time to sail.”
Her jaw dropped. “That’s hardly fair.”
Quin snickered at that. It was already painfully obvious the Fae King wasn’t the bastion of fairness.
“I know,” Marcello said, dragging a hand down his face.
“Why have you come here?” Quin demanded, in no mood to waste time on chit chat.
“Quin,” Kyria warned.
“What?” he held up his hands in mock surrender.
“No, it’s okay,” Marcello said. “We don’t have much time, so I must get to the point. My men said they saw Quin throwing plants from the balcony.”
Quin stiffened. “I accidentally broke a vase.” The lie easily slipped off his tongue. He had to appear convincing. Their lives depended on it. “What of it? Does the king wish to be compensated?”
“These weren’t ordinary plants,” Marcello said to him. “They were Allura flowers.”
“I don’t know what those are.” Kyria’s laughter sounded forced, as she twirled a black lock of hair around a trembling finger. “But these were jasmine plants.”
“Allura look and smell like jasmine, but only a powerful mage can produce them. There are some who believe you are hiding magic.” Marcello gave her a knowing look, as if he could see right through her.
Quin glared at the Fae while clutching the spear. “What do you believe?”
Marcello clasped his hands. “I pray it’s the truth.”
Kyria turned up her chin. “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she said in a haughty voice, “but I have no magic.”
Clenching his fists, Marcello gave her a look that would’ve made a lesser woman cower. “Don’t lie to me, Kyria.”
“Watch how you speak to her,” Quin warned.
Clucking his tongue, Marcello pointed up. “How do you explain that?”
A lone vine hung from the ceiling, flowers blooming before their eyes.
“Dragon balls,” Quin grumbled. How had they missed that one? It must have just grown, though none of that mattered now that Marcello had seen it. When Marcello stepped forward, he aimed his makeshift sword at the Fae’s chest. “Back away, or I’ll bash your head in.”
“Easy, defender.” Marcello held up his hands. “I will not hurt her.” He nodded toward the sword on his hip. “Take my sword and cut it down.”
Quin snatched the sword before Marcello could change his mind. “You’re not getting this back.” The sharp blade easily cut through the thick vine.
“I will find a new one,” he said, unbuckling his belt and throwing Quin his scabbard. “Who else has seen?”
“Just us,” Quin said, tossing it on the bed. Still not trusting Marcello, he held his new sword at the ready.
Marcello rubbed his chin while looking at the cracks in the ceiling. “I will get someone in here to cover the plaster.”
Kyria’s eyes widened. “You’re helping me conceal it?”
The Fae’s fair eyes darkened. “Do you understand what happens if Ravena learns of your magic?”
Kyria blanched. “She will kill me.”
“Who told you that?”
“Does it matter? It’s true, isn’t it?”
“It’s true, but two of her guards have pledged to the Eldr. They would’ve fought for you if you’d shown the slightest spark. How did you conceal it?”
Quin stepped between them. “None of your business.”
The Fae cocked a half smile. “I was asking Kyria.”
She placed a hand on Quin’s shoulder. “Quin is right. I don’t know who I can trust here.”
“You can trust me and Sylvia.”
Quin didn’t recall meeting anyone named Sylvia, but he saw a flash of recognition in Kyria’s eyes. He studied the Fae carefully and didn’t see any deception, though that didn’t mean much here. He would still advise Kyria to be on her guard.
“And me,” Quin said, puffing up his chest when the Fae gave him a curious look.
“But do not trust your brother or your friend Jade,” the Fae warned.
Kyria winced at the mention of her best friend but didn’t seem shocked about Alexi. Quin’s heart ached to know he’d found his brother-in-arms only to lose him again. It saddened him to think that one day he might have to cut him down.
Kyria sighed. “Jade has been my dearest friend. She wouldn’t betray me.”
Marcello’s features hardened. “She already has.”
Her eyes welled with tears. “What do you mean?”
“Guard your secrets around her,” Marcello said. “That’s all I can say.”
Quin wrapped an arm around her. “I’m sorry, my love.”
She wiped her eyes. “It’s okay.” She placed a hand on his chest. “So long as I have my defenders.”
He kissed her cheek. “Always.” He looked to Marcello, who looked away, cheeks flushing. Was he embarrassed to be intruding on a tender moment or jealous? “What are Eldr?”
“We are second-blood Fae,” he said, “and we have pledged to eradicate the planet of every first-blood.”
Quin wanted to protest when Kyria pulled away, but he said nothing as she gave Marcello a stony stare.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because they are monsters,” he answered, fear in his voice.
Quin thought of Genevieve’s fanged smile, pale gums, and rancid breath and couldn’t deny he was right. “How many Eldr are there?”
“We number almost a thousand,” Marcello said.
If the Eldr far outnumbered the first-bloods, what were they waiting for? “Why haven’t you killed them already?” he asked. “Jade told us there were only a hundred first-bloods.”
Marcello shook his head. “It will take more than swords and arrows to defeat them.”
Quin shared a puzzled look with Kyria. “They meet in the throne room for court every night. Just slaughter them.”
“We can’t.” It looked like Marcello wanted to say more.
“Of course you can.” Quin snorted. He and three hundred defenders battled voracious dragons every day during mating season. A thousand second-bloods could take on a hundred ugly Fae. “Anything with a heartbeat can be killed.”
“They don’t have heartbeats.”
A sound of shock came from Kyria, her lips parted as if a scream had died on her tongue.
Marcello’s words were like searing arrows. Though he wanted to believe he’d heard him wrong, instinct told him he hadn’t. “Then what are they?”
“They died centuries ago from drinking too much life water.” Marcello’s expression was grim. “It turned their blood black. They are known in the old tongue as Lamia. We call them vampyres. One vampyre has the strength of ten second-bloods.”
Kyria’s hand flew to her mouth. “Great goddess!”
Quin felt a spurt of fear. If they were that strong, how would he protect Kyria?
It took all of Quin’s willpower and grit to summon the nerve to ask the next question. “How will we cut them down?”
The severe look Marcello gave Kyria made Quin’s flesh crawl. “A powerful mage can. Demendia managed to kill six first-bloods fifty years ago, when Delfi evicted the Fae. Though we still call them the Hundred, they number ninety-four.”
The color drained from Kyria’s face. She looked to Quin, panic reflecting in her eyes. Did Marcello think Kyria could kill ninety-four vampyres?
“Then why didn’t Demendia sail here years ago and finish them off?” Quin demanded. As mortal enemies, it would’ve been in the human king and mage’s best interest to eradicate the Fae a long time ago.
“Ravena controls the sea serpents surrounding the island,” Marcello said. “That is why Milas has never launched a naval war.”
Ravena could control dragons? Quin wondered if she’d sent the plague of dragons to the shores of Periculi. To know she had that much power was terrifying. It would also make it harder for them to escape the island, should the king try to force them to stay.
“They can fly here and defeat them,” he said, wondering how much Milas knew about the Fae. If he’d known they were vampyres, that would explain his haste to oust them from Delfi. There was obviously more to their feud than control of life water.
“They must be struck down before they get here. Their dragons will destroy all of Fae Kingdom, not just the Hundred. Milas’s blood runs black, which means he will turn into a vampyre soon, if he hasn’t already. A vampyre dragon will be unstoppable.”
Well, fuck. “What is the Eldr’s plan, Marcello?”
“We defeat Milas’s army first. Princess Ingena has created weapons that will wipe them out in seconds. Then we return and destroy the Hundred.”
Again, the look Marcello gave Kyria, filled Quin’s veins with dread. “Let me guess, you need a powerful mage.” He didn’t like the idea of these second-bloods using her as their savior. The Fae King would put a target on her back for sure.
“We found one.” Marcello fixed Kyria with an unwavering look, one that bordered on adoration.
Quin cursed.
“I grow plants, Marcello,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I do not kill Fae.”
For the first time since sneaking into Kyria’s room, Marcello smiled. “They are already dead. You will send them to hell, where they belong.”
* * *
LISTENING TO QUIN’S soft snores, Kyria stared up at the paintings of the cherubic Fae children, unable to get the thought of Jade’s betrayal out of her mind. Had all the tender moments they’d shared meant nothing to her? She would rather believe Marcello was lying, but some deep-rooted premonition told her he was not. She hated it here more than anything, more than her hellacious stay in King Milas’s palace. At least there she knew her enemies. In Fae Kingdom, she didn’t know who she could trust other than Quin. Her own mother and brother could stab her in the back if she wasn’t careful. The thought was too depressing to comprehend.
She wished Titus and Theron were here with them. Titus, especially, would know what to do. He could root out the enemies and help them come up with a plan. Relying solely on Marcello, and the others he’d called the Eldr, was too risky, especially when she had no idea what they expected of her.
“Kyriaaaa,” a sibilant voice whispered.
She shot up and looked around the room. Two bright orbs appeared from behind her wardrobe curtain.
Just what she needed, a visit from the child ghosts to make her night even more terrifying.
Knowing they would not let her rest, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and strapped on her braces.
Quin reached for her, his eyes heavy with sleep. “What is it?”
She smoothed back his thick hair and kissed his forehead. “Go back to sleep, my love. I need to use the toilet and will return to you momentarily.”
The specters were waiting for her in the wardrobe, their forms clearly visible, including the angry red slashes across their necks. Their features were strikingly similar to hers: dark, thick hair and brows, high cheekbones, and beneath their pearlescent, ghoulish glow, olive complexions. They looked like miniature versions of her and Alexi. The girl even wore her hair in two long braids, like she had as a child. The boy’s hair went to just below his ears in a style similar to Alexi’s. They had to have been her ancestors.
The girl surged forward, her eyes wide and glossy. “How will you use your magic?”
Kyria looked at her fingers. Magic tingled at the tips. “I will grow food to help the hungry.”
“How else?” the boy asked.
She knew exactly the answer they were searching for. Dare she say it? She wasn’t sure if she could trust these ghosts. What if they were spies sent by Ravena?
“I will not use it for malice,” she answered plainly.
“Will you use it to slaughter the Hundred?” the girl asked, frowning.
“If they try to harm innocents,” she answered, praying they were friends and not foes.
The boy surged forward, bringing with him a sharp, stinging wind that slashed across Kyria’s face like a Periculi ice storm. “They already have!” His ominous words echoed inside her skull. He tilted back his head, and blood pooled around the slash.
She swallowed back a lump of bile. “Who did this to you?”
“You must destroy them,” the girl said, “or thousands more will perish. They will not stop until every last human is drained of blood.”
Green smoke trailed from her fingers. “I don’t know how.”
“We shall help you wield your magic,” the boy answered.
Her heart hammered. Trained by ghosts to defeat a vampyre army? This all seemed too surreal.
“Our powers are limited,” the girl said, “but the Fae have many resources. Find the book called Spellcraft.”
She licked her parched lips. “Where?”
“Your father is keeping it,” the boy answered. “It will teach you many different ways to defeat Ravena.”
She backed up a step. “The Fae would leave a book with such knowledge for others to find?”
“The Fae are arrogant and do not believe any other mages survived to read it.” The girl flashed a thin smile, reminiscent of Talon’s wicked grin, minus the sharp teeth. “It will be their downfall.”
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Find the book,” the boy said, fading, “and we will return to you.”
“Wait!” she cried, but they faded to two pale orbs of light. “Who are you?” she asked again.
The lights blinked out, leaving her in the dark and with more questions than answers.