A Fate so Wicked: Into the Shadows, Book One, page 32
I fell, flipping onto my side just in time to capture its front legs, fighting against the fae to avoid razor-sharp claws.
We struggled—fighting for the upper hand—yet neither of us got anywhere. Rolling and struggling on the ground, I punched and kicked at its open belly, but its fur was like a shield.
Its thick saliva splattered on my face, disrupting my vision, and my hand slipped, giving the wolf an opportunity to swing its heavy paw at my head.
I curled into a ball to shield my head when it slumped—its weight crushing my ribcage when an invisible force flung it to the side, sending it into a ditch.
Sitting up on my forearms, I watched Talon stroll toward me, leaving a pile of bodies in his wake. He rolled his neck—as if slaughtering a dozen guards was a mere inconvenience—appearing unfazed without a fleck of dirt on his olive skin.
He sheathed his sword as he offered his hand, helping me up.
I used the sleeve of my tunic to wipe my cheek. “How did he do that?”
Talon placed a hand on my back and led us to the pasture, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was following us. “Well, most fae have some sort of elemental magic. They can manipulate water, control fire. Some, like myself, have solar magic and can harness light. Others, like that one, can shift at will.”
“Into anything they want?”
“No, it’s usually fated. There’s very few who can control what they shift into.”
The grass crunched beneath our feet as we picked up our pace, trying to reach the forest ahead before anyone else came after us.
I peered at Talon. His shoulders were back, his chin tipped up, not appearing the least bit concerned with whatever we may encounter.
The confidence he exuded, the arrogance—once repulsive—now comforted me.
I swallowed a smile. “So, you guys can wield this magic whenever you want, without consequence?”
“Ah, there’s always a consequence, firefly. He likely won’t be able to shift for days now. It’s a delicate balancing act—the well only runs so deep until you burn out. I’ve seen far too many fae push their limits and exhaust their power entirely.” He shrugged, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. “I knew someone who shifted into a falcon one too many times and could never shift back out of it.”
My eyes widened as I imagined the horror. “What about you? What are your limits?”
Talon grabbed my arm, forcing me to a stop.
I opened my mouth to question why, when he placed a finger over his mouth, silencing me. His body went rigid as he listened to our surroundings.
“We need to go. There’s more coming.” He had picked up on a sound in the distance, too far away for me to hear.
Talon pushed me into a run, and we sprinted for the forest, keeping our momentum until the shelter of trees hid us from view. We kept running until we reached the edge of the field where a wooden stable sat beside a creek, hidden deep within the thicket. Its tin roof was rusted over and worn from the sun due to years—if not decades—of neglect.
The soothing sound of trickling water washed over me.
We stepped inside. Small beams of light seeped through the cracks between the wooden slats, illuminating the settled dust and dirt that covered the beams. Hay littered the ground, stacking high into the corners while horse bays lined the back wall. It was quiet.
“What is this place?”
“It was an old stable we used years ago to deliver resources to fae on the outskirts. However, when King Harkin rose to power, he felt it was no longer necessary. He said it took up ‘too many resources.’ As if providing food to those unable to make the trek to the city was too much of a burden.” He strolled to the middle bay, pushing the upper leaf open.
A dark bay mare neighed.
I approached the stall, and she reared at me as I peered through the barn door.
“Woah! Down girl,” Talon soothed. Unlatching the brass lock, the bottom door opened with a whine, and he stepped in, rubbing his palm along the bridge of her nose.
She snorted.
“Shh. It’s okay, Zephyr,” he continued, stroking her black mane. “It’s Elowyn. You remember me telling you about her, don’t you?”
I waved—unsure what else to do—in a pathetic attempt to show her I wasn’t a threat. “Is this your horse?”
“She was your fathers.” A distant smile pulled at his mouth as he spoke.
Butterflies swarmed my belly. Just when I’d grown comfortable and accepted the feelings I had for him, Talon pulled the rug from under my feet, and I was back to where I began: conflicted and confused. He’d held such a heavy secret without so much as revealing an inkling of suspicion.
How would I know if—when—he was keeping something else from me? I wanted to trust him, but how could I when I couldn’t even trust my intuition to know the difference?
“She sprained her leg a few years back,” he continued. “King Harkin insisted we put her down. So, I took her to the healer. Watched as they sharpened the axe, but I couldn’t do it. I brought her here instead.”
My stomach dropped as I looked at the beautiful, healthy horse before me, unable to imagine how anyone could think she deserved to die. “Why would he do that?”
Watching him care for his horse pulled my heartstrings taut.
His compassion.
The gentle ease with which he mollified her.
It was an entirely different side to him, and it warmed my chest despite my unwillingness.
“Because she was King Gareth’s personal horse. Harkin did a number on her because of that.”
The horse snorted, finally settling.
“She’s skittish of strangers now, unfortunately.” Talon tipped his head toward Zephyr as he plucked a sugar cube from the pale. “Try talking to her,” he said and dropped a few cubes into my palm.
I looked from the horse to him as I chewed the inside of my lip, unsure of what to say to calm her.
“My apologies, I didn’t mean to alarm you, I’m only trying to get back home,” I tried. “My horse, Sugarfoot, is waiting for me. So is my mother, hopefully.”
The likelihood I’d find my mother in a condition less than poor was now an all too real probability—one I’d forced myself not to think about this entire time. I couldn’t escape it now. Whether I was ready to admit it, I was going to see for myself. And when I did, I’d have to learn to live with it.
Zephyr nickered, scuffing a hoof against the dirt. “It’s good to finally meet you, Elowyn.” Her voice was as smooth as silk. “Although I could do without that rodent in your pocket.”
Startled, I jumped back—moments away from ripping off my vest—when Pipion poked her head out. Her enormous eyes were apologetic as I fell against the bay wall, placing a hand over my heart to calm my nerves.
“I didn’t want to stay behind when everything went down.” Pipion rubbed a paw over her eye. “But you were so focused, there wasn’t a good time to tell you.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Pushing off the wall, I rubbed my brow. “Is it okay if she comes along?” I held a sugar cube between my fingers, and her tongue jutted out, sweeping the treat from my hand in one swift, wet motion.
“I suppose if that’ll make you happy, Elowyn.” Zephyr snatched another cube while I wasn’t paying attention. “Keep it stowed away. Stars help me if that rodent so much as touches me. I will stomp it without hesitation.”
I huffed a laugh, opening my palm to give her the rest of the cubes. “Deal. You can handle that, right, Pipion?”
She squeaked her understanding—burrowing back into my vest—as I watched Talon bridle the horse.
He latched a saddle onto her back as if he’d done it a hundred times over and swiftly mounted her, adjusting himself before extending a hand to me. “You ready, firefly?” His eyes were bright.
I swallowed, looking over my shoulder at the castle in the distance where my friends’ lives had ended too soon. A pang of sorrow twisted in my chest, and I turned around, placed my foot into the stirrup, and flung my other leg over.
For them, I told myself.
I held onto the back of the saddle, but Talon reached back and grabbed my wrists, wrapping my arms tightly around his stomach.
“You need to hold on,” he said, letting his fingers linger on mine to make sure I stayed put.
I bit my lip, ignoring how his warm scent enveloped me as I did what he ordered. Ignoring how my breath hitched as I straddled his back—bringing with it images of the last night we shared. How perfectly we fit together. How undone he made me.
I squirmed, trying to find relief from the building pressure, and he squeezed my thigh. His touch remained and never wavered. Even long after he commanded Zephyr out of the stables.
We rode for hours.
Day turned into dusk as we traveled—further and further from the castle. There was no sign of life. No forest creatures. Only towering evergreens, endless forest vegetation, and the rhythmic sound of Zephyr’s hooves clapping against the undergrowth.
Everything blurred together, flashing by at a dizzying rate, and I closed my eyes—my legs aching from sitting so long.
“Can we stop for a minute?” I stretched my back. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“We’re almost there.” Talon covered my hand with his and squeezed. “You see that cottage up ahead? That’s where we’re going.”
A small stone house came into view, wrapped in flowering vines. It looked like a drawing out of a storybook with its black, tin roof arching to a point and the plumes of smoke billowing out of the chimney. Even as we advanced, it remained but a quaint structure—making me wonder how we’d both fit.
“Where are we?” I asked.
Talon helped me dismount. He held me close as I stumbled into him, kissing the top of my head. “The witch’s house I told you about. You didn’t think we’d leave without the cure for your mother, did you?”
I whipped around to look at him, a mixture of wonder and gratitude filling my chest. “She has the nightingale?”
Talon caressed a thumb along my cheekbone and cupped my chin—a strong, sure gesture—and he nodded. “I should warn you though, Minerva’s an ancient, powerful being. She never does anything without wanting something in return. Let me do the talking, okay? Follow my lead.”
I shuddered, my stomach twisting into knots while I watched Talon tie Zephyr off on a nearby tree, shielding my arms as a deft wave of wind brushed past, rustling the leaves.
The atmosphere thickened, a heavy blanket smothering the air, and we approached the wicker door. It opened wide—ready to devour us—revealing a gaping black hole on the other side.
“After you.” I motioned Talon ahead.
He rolled his shoulders, an impish smirk lifting at the corner of his mouth as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “Chicken,” he said, disappearing into the cottage.
Flipping my finger to his back, I stayed behind. Listening. Waiting to hear if any commotion broke out. For any shrieks or cackles indicating a struggle. But I was met with deafening silence. Even the wind stilled—the forest around me growing dark.
The hair on my neck stood as I stepped forward, on high alert for anything that could be lurking in the near distance.
“I think I’m going to wait out here,” Pipion said, startling me. She hopped out of my pocket and scurried onto a bed of grass several yards away. “I’ll be here when you get back. Don’t look her in the eyes too long—she’ll turn your heart to stone.”
Perfect.
I turned back to the cottage, second-guessing my decision. The last time I ignored the stories, it didn’t work out for me very well. However, I didn’t come this far to stop now.
I took a deep breath, muttered to myself, “Well, here goes nothing,” and slipped into the darkness.
Thirty-Five
“Talon!” I yelled, feeling my way around the darkness. Trying to find something, anything, that could help me gather my bearings. But there was nothing—only blind faith as I continued forward. “Where are you?” I called out again.
Wiping my palms against my tunic, a twinkle of light appeared ahead, growing larger with each step I took.
It flickered and darted to the left and then the right, shooting back and forth haphazardly until it came to an abrupt stop at the tip of my nose.
My eyes crossed at its nearness, and I took a step back, the soft light warming my face. It called to me—a welcoming invitation—and I reached for it, hesitating for a moment before I touched it with my index finger.
As soon as I did, everything around me exploded. A kaleidoscope of colors twisting and expanding.
I folded like paper between pockets of air, spinning and tumbling, until I crashed face-first into a black and gold ornate rug. Air shot from my lungs, and I rolled onto my back, choking as I learned how to breathe again.
Talon appeared above me, his hair shielding only part of his expression. He looked down at me, bemused. I wanted to smack him as he helped me to my feet. “That’s one way to make an entrance.”
I rolled my eyes, brushing my clothes back into place, ignoring the sting in my palms and how he watched me. “Yeah, well, you could’ve warned me.”
Talon smiled. “Where would be the fun in that?”
Placing a hand on the small of my back, he guided me out of the foyer and into a sitting room. The cottage was much larger than it appeared from the outside. The huge, frameless windows on the north end of the home opened to the bright, immense moon—illuminating the space. Golden frames of all shapes and sizes covered the walls, as did an assortment of potted green plants. Wicker baskets and jars filled with herbs, bookshelves stacked with grimoires, and random trinkets filled every room. There wasn’t an empty space to be found.
It was cozy.
Welcoming, even.
“She’s placed a glamor on the house,” Talon offered, noticing the wonder on my face. “It’s to detract any wanderers that may come across it. The portals to ward off anyone who’s bold enough to enter that has ill intentions.”
I roamed over to the crackling fireplace, holding my hands near the open flame, warming my wind-blown skin. “What happens to them? The ones that do.”
“Some say they’re torn into a thousand pieces and used for Minerva’s spells.”
The side door in the kitchen creaked open to reveal a petite, blonde-haired woman. “Oh, don’t lie to the poor girl, Talon,” she said as she entered, placing an empty jar on the wooden table. Her navy-blue dress flowed with each movement and swept across the stone floor as she glided over to us. Her pale skin looked almost see-through; it glowed under the moonlight—she was entrancing.
I shifted my weight between my feet.
“A witch cooks two lost children in her oven one time and suddenly we’re all bad.” She chuckled, holding out her hand. “I’m Minerva.”
Her touch was light and soft, like the rest of her appearance. “Elowyn.”
Minerva looked me up and down. “So, you’re the one they whisper about,” she stated. “You defied the king.”
I gulped, looking behind her at Talon for support. He’d made himself comfortable on a deep purple chaise lounge, his legs crossed at the ankles, seemingly asleep when his eyelid popped open, and he winked. So happy one of us took this seriously.
Forever an arrogant prick.
“I didn’t defy him. I won fairly.”
She smiled, flashing her sharpened teeth. “Yet you’re on the run.”
I nodded, trying to pull my hand away.
But her grip tightened. “Curious. That’s not what I hear.” She turned my palm over in hers, her eyes growing wide. “Oh, what a beautiful ring. It’s so unique. Please, child, where did you get this?”
Her grip loosened, and I could finally rip my hand back and tuck it under my arm. “From my mother. It was my father’s ring.”
Minerva’s smile stretched across her face. “Very curious.” She stared at me for a moment—her icy gray eyes bore into mine until she snapped out of it. “I say, how about some tea, hm? And you can explain what brings you two to my home.”
She whisked away on a breeze back to the kitchen where a kettle sounded—convenient timing for someone who didn’t know we’d be arriving.
“Talon, are you sure this is a good idea?” I whispered as he stood from the chaise. “She won’t poison us or anything, will she?”
“No.” He smirked. “Well, lest you offend her, that is.”
My stomach dropped, and I whipped my head toward Minerva—carefully watching her as she prepared the tea and noted everything she used. If she thought I’d defied the king, would she stupefy me and try to drag me back to him?
No, Talon wouldn’t let that happen. Unless, of course, she drugged him too.
Talon’s low, husky laugh brushed against my ear, breaking me free from my thoughts. “There’s nothing to worry about, firefly.” He squeezed my hand. “We’ll be on our way soon enough, okay?”
I nodded, allowed him to lead me into the kitchen, and sat down in a metal chair at the wooden table. Bushels of thyme, sage, and rosemary hung from the ceiling, filling the room with a savory aroma that blended nicely with the brewing tea.
Talon took a seat next to me, pulled a dagger out of his sleeve, and rolled it between his fingers. A bored habit of his I’d picked up on.
“So, Elowyn. What brings you all the way to my neck of the woods?” Minerva placed two small porcelain cups down and filled them with tea. “Sugar?”
I shook my head.
“We were hoping you could help us,” Talon said. “We need the nightingale elixir.”
“I see.” Minerva poured herself a cup and joined us at the table, dumping a spoonful of sugar into her tea. “That’s a specialty blend for respiratory ailments, you know. What do you need an elixir such as that for?” She took a sip and placed her cup back down.
“My mother,” I offered. “She’s sick, and her medicine’s run out. I crossed into Faerway because I remembered a story about the nightingale and thought if I could find it, it’d cure her.” I shrugged. “But obviously, that didn’t go as planned.”
