Desire, page 2
The demons attacked the worms, pinching into one another as they tried to get enough food.
Faelyn laughed and threw another handful of worms inside. “You’ll be dead soon enough.”
Turning away, she checked the drying bird-demon eyes and livers hanging from the wall. Most of them were still wet, but the first pair had a crunchy surface and it wasn’t as rubbery as the others. They were almost ready to use.
Faelyn took a long, narrow package from a shelf, smiling and humming a love song. It was time to lend it to William.
At the desk, she unwrapped the package, revealing a sword. Its silver-blue estril blade pulsed with magic, almost having a will on its own. Faelyn caressed the sword, pride filling her heart. The enchantment had been her work, giving the sword and the person who wielded it the power of sight, to see their opponents’ next move.
“You’ll be back in your master’s grasp soon.” Faelyn put her hands above the blade. “But for now, I need you to help me distract Eero.”
She chanted a spell, transforming the sword into a hairpin. It wouldn’t hold for long, but she didn’t need much time to get to William.
When she was done, she went back into her room and sealed the hidden door again.
After dressing into more appropriate clothes, a long dress that hugged her body, Faelyn hurried down the stairs and through the hall of her home, a cloak hanging from her arm. She was almost at the door when movement came from her right.
“Faelyn,” Nadav’s cold voice filled the silent house. “Have breakfast with me.”
Faelyn swallowed, considering disobeying her husband’s order. But she changed her mind. She needed him to fit in. For now. “Of course, husband.”
She passed Nadav, her body ready to take the first hit, but he stood in the door, watching her with his cold blue eyes.
Faelyn sat and put some fruits and cheese onto her plate. She didn’t have an appetite, but nibbling on something would satisfy Nadav, and she could get to her work sooner if she obeyed.
Every bite she took, every swallow of her tea that was met with silence, knotted another muscle in her body. Nadav didn’t speak, didn’t look at her. Just ate his breakfast. With every cut, his muscles moved in his arm, reminding Faelyn of the sheer strength in him.
She’d finished eating and nothing had happened. Not even the usual small talk between them. When Nadav leaned back, she stood and bowed.
“Husband.” Nadav didn’t react, and she took it as permission to leave.
“You lost my child,” he said before she reached the door. “Again.”
Faelyn shivered from the threat in that last word. “I’m sorry, my love.”
Nadav stalked over to her and grabbed her chin, turning her face towards him. “I let you work. I let you play around with your witches because I love you. I let you get away with impudence and disobedience because of my feelings.” He squeezed her chin harder.
Faelyn fought the urge to close her eyes and look away. There was no point in denying her miscarriage; many of the servants were loyal to Nadav and gossip spread fast among them.
“Give me a son within a year, Faelyn. If you lose my next child, I’ll lock you in this house for the rest of your life. I didn’t marry you to only have sons only from my concubines. Do your duty and I’ll let you keep your hobbies.” He pulled her closer. “Understood?”
Faelyn swallowed, her nails dug into her palms to hold back tears. Even her teeth hurt from Nadav’s grip. She nodded and squeezed out the word, “Yes.”
Nadav pushed her away, then headed upstairs. “You’ll spend the night with me.”
Faelyn put on her cloak and jogged out of the house. Tears stung her eyes, but she was more angry than anything else. She was just a woman to him. A woman of great power, but just a woman. She’d never be equal to a man. She’d never be equal to Nadav. And even though he was quick to anger, and wasn’t hesitant to use force to regulate his women, he was far from the worst. In his own twisted way, he loved her. After all, he’d let her marry him without wearing his mark. She’d never wear another man’s mark, but Donovan’s.
Fiddling with the hairpin, trying to find calmness, Faelyn walked in the waking city towards the edge of the servants’ district. Shops were opening, servants hurried to their masters’, carrying bags of food and other goods. A few humanoids lurked in the shadows, avoiding stepping into the sun, returning to their homes to sleep through the day.
Leaving the mansions and the old defense wall behind, small, ruined houses replaced the large, tidy family homes. Narrow, rugged streets crisscrossed between the buildings instead of the wide, straight roads. She was lost in her thoughts as she walked towards one of the last houses in the city.
The sun was above the horizon when she reached the last building before the endless fields. The house she’d been born in. Faelyn pushed her hood back. She didn’t need to hide her identity here, these people didn’t ask questions. With the demons’ district a few minutes away, they lived their lives in fear, behind closed doors.
She entered the house, or at least what remained of it.
“You can’t order me to show up here any time you wish. I have a position to fulfill.” William stood next to the wall in the dirty room. He was in his forties, his long brown hair was pulled in a ponytail, his beard was kept short and tidy, but an old scar on his cheek ruined his perfect looks. His dark red uniform with a silver star marked him as the Deputy General of the Mages.
“Do you want the throne or not?” Faelyn sat on the only untouched chair in the house. The same chair she’d sat on when she’d watched her parents choke to death from the poisoned bread she’d made them. “I don’t have time to play games, William.”
“Why else would I be here?”
Ignoring his question, she took the pin from her hair. “With this,” she transformed the hairpin back into the sword, “you can lead the rebellion. No one will question your power. But hide your identity. Stay close to those who are in power and only show yourself to the rebels when it’s unavoidable.”
William took the sword and ran his fingers over the blade. “Why are you doing this? What is your goal?”
“My goal is to change the order in this country. Isn’t that what you want? Equal chance for everyone? After all, you fought yourself up in the hierarchy from the bottom. I recognize potential when I see it.” She smiled. William wasn’t more to her than a puppet. A tool to reach her goals, to keep Eero occupied until her time came. “Take care of that sword. It was Donovan’s. Its magic is more powerful than you can imagine.”
He nodded. “Thank you. I won’t forget you when I sit on the throne.”
She kept her smile intact. He’d never sit on the throne. “I hope not.”
Chapter 3
Kylan
Kylan pulled a cigarette from his pocket and summoned a small flame on the tip of his fingers to light it. The breeze carried the scent of the spring, along with the ocean and horses.
As he got closer, lights flickered on in the stable, chasing away the coming darkness. Some horses snorted discontentedly at the sudden light.
Kylan took a long puff from his cigarette and slowly blew the smoke out, hoping it was the stable boy, eager to prepare their horses, and wasn’t one of his brothers who turned on the lights.
Above the naked stone walls and glassless windows, the wooden roof had been patched several times over the years, but a few holes still remained after the ice storms of the winter.
Kylan walked through the large gate and stepped to the third stall on his right. Gleaming black eyes blinked at him from black fur, sharpening the contrast with the mare’s white mane and tail. From the knees down, her legs were white, but other than that and a few white dots on her chest, she was black as the night.
Nightsky had been with him for a decade now, faithfully being there through every mission.
“Are you ready to go for a ride?” Kylan asked softly.
He opened the stall’s door, and the horse stepped next to him, sniffing his bag. Kylan smiled and caressed her neck.
“You’ll get your treat, girl. Don’t worry.” He reached for the saddle. “Have I ever forgotten about it?”
Alana had spoiled her with apples and Kylan had kept that practice. Every day. It was part of their life. A small smile crossed his lips, but it was gone in a second. He’d spoiled her big time.
A familiar scent reached his nostrils. Like the late summer breeze with a hint of earth in it. Well, it hadn’t been the stable boy who’d turned on the lights.
“I always wondered why that horse deserved more caring from you than anyone else.” Jealousy and pain rang in the young man’s voice.
Kylan’s shoulders tensed as he strapped the saddle on Nightsky. “Would you like to add something constructive, Aiden?”
“Not really.”
Grief bubbled up inside him, bringing his anger to the surface. He blamed Aiden for their mother’s death, even though he knew he shouldn’t. And the worst part was that Aiden looked so much like her. Every time Kylan looked at him, he saw her eyes, the same honey brown eyes he missed so much.
He had was failing her, the same way he had failed many others, but this one stuck with him. This was a failure he couldn’t bear. He had to try to keep that promise the best he could. To protect his little brother, no matter what.
Kylan buried his hand in Nightsky’s mane to hide its shaking. There were feelings that broke through the Rune’s grip no matter what he did. He couldn’t let emotions cloud his judgment, so he deepened the Rune to suppress them. All of them faded. Except anger. It lingered. It didn’t matter how deep he dove into the Rune, anger stayed. Always.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to be alone with Aiden for long as the others arrived too. Kylan’s deputy, William, one of the few trustworthy men in his unit. His other brother, Ethan, and to be safe, he had summoned one of the healers too.
It was a small team, but they were going to gather intel and not to fight. Moving with a small team was easier than keeping a regiment hidden.
The ride to the forest went smoothly, and it only took an hour to reach the tree line.
In the woods, not far from the ruined mansion, Kylan slid off his horse and petted the mare’s neck. “Stay here, girl,” he whispered and ran his fingers through the soft white mane. “I’ll be back soon.”
He motioned to the others to follow him. The undergrowth was thick enough to hide their presence, but they remained cautious.
When they reached the edge of the clearing, Kylan squatted behind a bush. The mountains cast long shadows on the land around the mansion, darkening the area even before the sun disappeared from the sky. Kylan changed his eyes into a lion’s, observing the old building. Light poured from a room on the first floor; two men smoked outside, their guns leaned against the wall. They were chatting casually, unaware of their presence.
He turned to Aiden. “Fly out and report back in five minutes.”
Aiden nodded and shifted into an eagle.
Kylan watched his brother fly off then turned to his other brother. “Ethan, can you pick up something?”
Ethan closed his eyes, deep wrinkles formed on his forehead from concentration. Kylan wasn’t fond of the idea of bringing Ethan. Many times he’d questioned orders and Kylan’s leadership, but he was a telepath, one of the strongest mind readers in his inner circle, and Kylan couldn’t risk leaving him at home.
“Six men,” Ethan said. “No one I know.”
Kylan nodded. “What about the leader?”
Ethan frowned and tilted his head. “They call him the Redeemer. But he isn’t here.”
“William,” Kylan turned to his deputy, “scout the area and see if any more are on the way.”
William silently vanished in the forest.
Kylan stood and headed back to their horses. The moment he got close enough, Nightsky poked his shoulder with her nose.
Kylan reached up and petted her neck. “Okay, okay, I get it.” He reached into his bag and pulled out an apple. Cutting it in two, he gave half to the horse. As he bit into his own half, he watched Ethan approach him.
“What’s your plan?”
Kylan narrowed his eyes. “We’ll rest for an hour or two, see how many of them will come, and depending on their number, kill them. Then go home.”
“Don’t you think that’s suicide? Sir.”
“I don’t owe you an explanation. You follow my orders.”
Ethan’s blue eyes flashed, and he straightened his back to try to even the difference between their heights. “So far, it’s five against six. But more will come. At least send for more soldiers.”
“Those are lowlife, untrained men. Mostly commoners.”
“But—”
“Ethan. Shut up.” He stepped closer. “I’ve been patient with you, but if you say another word, you won’t leave this forest.”
“Yes, sir.” He bowed and walked back to his horse, muttering something under his breath.
Aiden landed and shifted back at the same time William emerged from the bushes.
“We’re in trouble,” Aiden said. “We’ve been spotted.”
“That’s impossible,” William said. “I was just there, and no one was on the move.”
Kylan looked at the men, trying to make sense of the contradictory reports. Should he believe his blood or a seasoned soldier? Neither had a reason to lie, and Aiden could see more from the sky than William from the ground.
“Tell me everything.”
Just as he finished the sentence, something flashed in the darkness. Twigs cracked, feet stomped, but not in a way an animal or a demon would do it. A metallic hiss and muttering, maybe swearing. His superior hearing gave him just enough advantage to get ready before an ambush.
Kylan pulled out his sword. “Get ready. We have company.”
His men gathered around him, blinking, their weapons pointed at the ground. The only one who lifted his bo staff was Aiden. He could hear it too.
Eight men stepped out from behind the trees, their weapons ready, four of them aiming guns. Kylan swallowed. He hated non-magical people and their need to replace magic with bullets.
“Are you here for the calling?” a young man, probably their leader, asked. “Are you joining the rebels too?”
Kylan rolled his shoulders. “Not quite.”
“Then why are you here?” The man glanced at William, then back at Kylan.
“Do you regret your decision to betray your king?” Kylan asked.
The group snorted as one, and an older man spoke, “The Whitestone family will burn. And from their ashes a new power will rise.”
“Let me guess.” Kylan grinned. “This is another one of your leader’s fancy promises.”
“He will rede—”
“I know, I know. He will redeem every fucking soul.” Kylan dived deeper into the Rune, letting the names glow through his dark red and black uniform. “Kneel before me and I’ll be merciful.”
The men stared at his name in the middle of his chest. “We won’t kneel to a Whitestone. Your rule—”
Kylan shot a fireball at the man who spoke, burning his face off before he could finish the sentence.
Four men retaliated with magic: one shot a fireball, two ice darts, and the last called for nature, summoning vines to attack. Three guns fired at once.
Kylan’s ears rang from the sudden sound, but he didn’t have time to look around and see if anyone was hit. He hoped these men couldn’t aim.
Kylan dodged an ice dart and threw one of his knives into a man’s shoulder. Rising, he drew a circle with his sword, cutting the fire mage’s guts out before he could throw a fireball.
To his right, William and Aiden fought with three men. Their weapons covered in fire, burning their opponents with every slash.
Kylan hissed when a mace ripped his arm open from behind. He kicked back, summoning fire with his foot. He hit his attacker and turned, finishing him with a clean stab into his heart.
No one fired a gun again, they never had time to reload.
On his left, Ethan knocked a man to the ground, but before he could cut his head off, the man pulled out his pistol and shot him. Ethan cut the man’s throat as he collapsed, his hands clutching his chest.
Kylan spun away from a vine and blindly shot a fireball in the direction of the attack.
He raced to Ethan and knelt next to him, letting his men finish the rest of the rebels. Kylan turned Ethan onto his back. He was still breathing, but he was bleeding heavily. The bullet had entered under his ribs and exited at his scapula.
He pressed his hands onto the wound. “You won’t die on me. Not like this.”
Ethan coughed up some blood and grinned. “At least I died fighting.”
“No, you won’t.” Kylan looked for their healer, but the man’s head was cut open, the white of his skull peeking out under the heavy flow of blood. He’d be dead if it wasn’t for his healing but Kylan couldn’t heal Ethan now, not without dying himself.
Aiden appeared next to them with the first aid bag, handing Kylan a pile of gauze. “Can you stop the bleeding?”
“I hope.”
Ethan’s eyes closed. His breathing became shallow. Only one side of his chest rose and fell, the other barely moved. Kylan shook his head. Even if he could stop the bleeding, he could do nothing for his collapsed lung. He put his fingers into the wound, guiding his magic towards it. He let the heat burst from his fingers, burning the veins in the wound.
He pulled his hand out and waited, pressing the gauze back to Ethan’s chest.
A relieved sigh left him when the bleeding stopped. Some color returned to Ethan’s face, and his breathing became stronger. Kylan lifted the gauze to see what else he could do. The wound slowly closed in front of his eyes. A thin red line had remained where the whole had been, and Ethan took a deep breath, both sides of his chest rising.
“It’s not possible,” Kylan muttered.
Ethan wasn’t a healer; he couldn’t heal himself. He checked his brother’s thigh, the cut was still there, and the other wound on his arm just clotted. The only injury that healed was the one the bullet had made.
Faelyn laughed and threw another handful of worms inside. “You’ll be dead soon enough.”
Turning away, she checked the drying bird-demon eyes and livers hanging from the wall. Most of them were still wet, but the first pair had a crunchy surface and it wasn’t as rubbery as the others. They were almost ready to use.
Faelyn took a long, narrow package from a shelf, smiling and humming a love song. It was time to lend it to William.
At the desk, she unwrapped the package, revealing a sword. Its silver-blue estril blade pulsed with magic, almost having a will on its own. Faelyn caressed the sword, pride filling her heart. The enchantment had been her work, giving the sword and the person who wielded it the power of sight, to see their opponents’ next move.
“You’ll be back in your master’s grasp soon.” Faelyn put her hands above the blade. “But for now, I need you to help me distract Eero.”
She chanted a spell, transforming the sword into a hairpin. It wouldn’t hold for long, but she didn’t need much time to get to William.
When she was done, she went back into her room and sealed the hidden door again.
After dressing into more appropriate clothes, a long dress that hugged her body, Faelyn hurried down the stairs and through the hall of her home, a cloak hanging from her arm. She was almost at the door when movement came from her right.
“Faelyn,” Nadav’s cold voice filled the silent house. “Have breakfast with me.”
Faelyn swallowed, considering disobeying her husband’s order. But she changed her mind. She needed him to fit in. For now. “Of course, husband.”
She passed Nadav, her body ready to take the first hit, but he stood in the door, watching her with his cold blue eyes.
Faelyn sat and put some fruits and cheese onto her plate. She didn’t have an appetite, but nibbling on something would satisfy Nadav, and she could get to her work sooner if she obeyed.
Every bite she took, every swallow of her tea that was met with silence, knotted another muscle in her body. Nadav didn’t speak, didn’t look at her. Just ate his breakfast. With every cut, his muscles moved in his arm, reminding Faelyn of the sheer strength in him.
She’d finished eating and nothing had happened. Not even the usual small talk between them. When Nadav leaned back, she stood and bowed.
“Husband.” Nadav didn’t react, and she took it as permission to leave.
“You lost my child,” he said before she reached the door. “Again.”
Faelyn shivered from the threat in that last word. “I’m sorry, my love.”
Nadav stalked over to her and grabbed her chin, turning her face towards him. “I let you work. I let you play around with your witches because I love you. I let you get away with impudence and disobedience because of my feelings.” He squeezed her chin harder.
Faelyn fought the urge to close her eyes and look away. There was no point in denying her miscarriage; many of the servants were loyal to Nadav and gossip spread fast among them.
“Give me a son within a year, Faelyn. If you lose my next child, I’ll lock you in this house for the rest of your life. I didn’t marry you to only have sons only from my concubines. Do your duty and I’ll let you keep your hobbies.” He pulled her closer. “Understood?”
Faelyn swallowed, her nails dug into her palms to hold back tears. Even her teeth hurt from Nadav’s grip. She nodded and squeezed out the word, “Yes.”
Nadav pushed her away, then headed upstairs. “You’ll spend the night with me.”
Faelyn put on her cloak and jogged out of the house. Tears stung her eyes, but she was more angry than anything else. She was just a woman to him. A woman of great power, but just a woman. She’d never be equal to a man. She’d never be equal to Nadav. And even though he was quick to anger, and wasn’t hesitant to use force to regulate his women, he was far from the worst. In his own twisted way, he loved her. After all, he’d let her marry him without wearing his mark. She’d never wear another man’s mark, but Donovan’s.
Fiddling with the hairpin, trying to find calmness, Faelyn walked in the waking city towards the edge of the servants’ district. Shops were opening, servants hurried to their masters’, carrying bags of food and other goods. A few humanoids lurked in the shadows, avoiding stepping into the sun, returning to their homes to sleep through the day.
Leaving the mansions and the old defense wall behind, small, ruined houses replaced the large, tidy family homes. Narrow, rugged streets crisscrossed between the buildings instead of the wide, straight roads. She was lost in her thoughts as she walked towards one of the last houses in the city.
The sun was above the horizon when she reached the last building before the endless fields. The house she’d been born in. Faelyn pushed her hood back. She didn’t need to hide her identity here, these people didn’t ask questions. With the demons’ district a few minutes away, they lived their lives in fear, behind closed doors.
She entered the house, or at least what remained of it.
“You can’t order me to show up here any time you wish. I have a position to fulfill.” William stood next to the wall in the dirty room. He was in his forties, his long brown hair was pulled in a ponytail, his beard was kept short and tidy, but an old scar on his cheek ruined his perfect looks. His dark red uniform with a silver star marked him as the Deputy General of the Mages.
“Do you want the throne or not?” Faelyn sat on the only untouched chair in the house. The same chair she’d sat on when she’d watched her parents choke to death from the poisoned bread she’d made them. “I don’t have time to play games, William.”
“Why else would I be here?”
Ignoring his question, she took the pin from her hair. “With this,” she transformed the hairpin back into the sword, “you can lead the rebellion. No one will question your power. But hide your identity. Stay close to those who are in power and only show yourself to the rebels when it’s unavoidable.”
William took the sword and ran his fingers over the blade. “Why are you doing this? What is your goal?”
“My goal is to change the order in this country. Isn’t that what you want? Equal chance for everyone? After all, you fought yourself up in the hierarchy from the bottom. I recognize potential when I see it.” She smiled. William wasn’t more to her than a puppet. A tool to reach her goals, to keep Eero occupied until her time came. “Take care of that sword. It was Donovan’s. Its magic is more powerful than you can imagine.”
He nodded. “Thank you. I won’t forget you when I sit on the throne.”
She kept her smile intact. He’d never sit on the throne. “I hope not.”
Chapter 3
Kylan
Kylan pulled a cigarette from his pocket and summoned a small flame on the tip of his fingers to light it. The breeze carried the scent of the spring, along with the ocean and horses.
As he got closer, lights flickered on in the stable, chasing away the coming darkness. Some horses snorted discontentedly at the sudden light.
Kylan took a long puff from his cigarette and slowly blew the smoke out, hoping it was the stable boy, eager to prepare their horses, and wasn’t one of his brothers who turned on the lights.
Above the naked stone walls and glassless windows, the wooden roof had been patched several times over the years, but a few holes still remained after the ice storms of the winter.
Kylan walked through the large gate and stepped to the third stall on his right. Gleaming black eyes blinked at him from black fur, sharpening the contrast with the mare’s white mane and tail. From the knees down, her legs were white, but other than that and a few white dots on her chest, she was black as the night.
Nightsky had been with him for a decade now, faithfully being there through every mission.
“Are you ready to go for a ride?” Kylan asked softly.
He opened the stall’s door, and the horse stepped next to him, sniffing his bag. Kylan smiled and caressed her neck.
“You’ll get your treat, girl. Don’t worry.” He reached for the saddle. “Have I ever forgotten about it?”
Alana had spoiled her with apples and Kylan had kept that practice. Every day. It was part of their life. A small smile crossed his lips, but it was gone in a second. He’d spoiled her big time.
A familiar scent reached his nostrils. Like the late summer breeze with a hint of earth in it. Well, it hadn’t been the stable boy who’d turned on the lights.
“I always wondered why that horse deserved more caring from you than anyone else.” Jealousy and pain rang in the young man’s voice.
Kylan’s shoulders tensed as he strapped the saddle on Nightsky. “Would you like to add something constructive, Aiden?”
“Not really.”
Grief bubbled up inside him, bringing his anger to the surface. He blamed Aiden for their mother’s death, even though he knew he shouldn’t. And the worst part was that Aiden looked so much like her. Every time Kylan looked at him, he saw her eyes, the same honey brown eyes he missed so much.
He had was failing her, the same way he had failed many others, but this one stuck with him. This was a failure he couldn’t bear. He had to try to keep that promise the best he could. To protect his little brother, no matter what.
Kylan buried his hand in Nightsky’s mane to hide its shaking. There were feelings that broke through the Rune’s grip no matter what he did. He couldn’t let emotions cloud his judgment, so he deepened the Rune to suppress them. All of them faded. Except anger. It lingered. It didn’t matter how deep he dove into the Rune, anger stayed. Always.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to be alone with Aiden for long as the others arrived too. Kylan’s deputy, William, one of the few trustworthy men in his unit. His other brother, Ethan, and to be safe, he had summoned one of the healers too.
It was a small team, but they were going to gather intel and not to fight. Moving with a small team was easier than keeping a regiment hidden.
The ride to the forest went smoothly, and it only took an hour to reach the tree line.
In the woods, not far from the ruined mansion, Kylan slid off his horse and petted the mare’s neck. “Stay here, girl,” he whispered and ran his fingers through the soft white mane. “I’ll be back soon.”
He motioned to the others to follow him. The undergrowth was thick enough to hide their presence, but they remained cautious.
When they reached the edge of the clearing, Kylan squatted behind a bush. The mountains cast long shadows on the land around the mansion, darkening the area even before the sun disappeared from the sky. Kylan changed his eyes into a lion’s, observing the old building. Light poured from a room on the first floor; two men smoked outside, their guns leaned against the wall. They were chatting casually, unaware of their presence.
He turned to Aiden. “Fly out and report back in five minutes.”
Aiden nodded and shifted into an eagle.
Kylan watched his brother fly off then turned to his other brother. “Ethan, can you pick up something?”
Ethan closed his eyes, deep wrinkles formed on his forehead from concentration. Kylan wasn’t fond of the idea of bringing Ethan. Many times he’d questioned orders and Kylan’s leadership, but he was a telepath, one of the strongest mind readers in his inner circle, and Kylan couldn’t risk leaving him at home.
“Six men,” Ethan said. “No one I know.”
Kylan nodded. “What about the leader?”
Ethan frowned and tilted his head. “They call him the Redeemer. But he isn’t here.”
“William,” Kylan turned to his deputy, “scout the area and see if any more are on the way.”
William silently vanished in the forest.
Kylan stood and headed back to their horses. The moment he got close enough, Nightsky poked his shoulder with her nose.
Kylan reached up and petted her neck. “Okay, okay, I get it.” He reached into his bag and pulled out an apple. Cutting it in two, he gave half to the horse. As he bit into his own half, he watched Ethan approach him.
“What’s your plan?”
Kylan narrowed his eyes. “We’ll rest for an hour or two, see how many of them will come, and depending on their number, kill them. Then go home.”
“Don’t you think that’s suicide? Sir.”
“I don’t owe you an explanation. You follow my orders.”
Ethan’s blue eyes flashed, and he straightened his back to try to even the difference between their heights. “So far, it’s five against six. But more will come. At least send for more soldiers.”
“Those are lowlife, untrained men. Mostly commoners.”
“But—”
“Ethan. Shut up.” He stepped closer. “I’ve been patient with you, but if you say another word, you won’t leave this forest.”
“Yes, sir.” He bowed and walked back to his horse, muttering something under his breath.
Aiden landed and shifted back at the same time William emerged from the bushes.
“We’re in trouble,” Aiden said. “We’ve been spotted.”
“That’s impossible,” William said. “I was just there, and no one was on the move.”
Kylan looked at the men, trying to make sense of the contradictory reports. Should he believe his blood or a seasoned soldier? Neither had a reason to lie, and Aiden could see more from the sky than William from the ground.
“Tell me everything.”
Just as he finished the sentence, something flashed in the darkness. Twigs cracked, feet stomped, but not in a way an animal or a demon would do it. A metallic hiss and muttering, maybe swearing. His superior hearing gave him just enough advantage to get ready before an ambush.
Kylan pulled out his sword. “Get ready. We have company.”
His men gathered around him, blinking, their weapons pointed at the ground. The only one who lifted his bo staff was Aiden. He could hear it too.
Eight men stepped out from behind the trees, their weapons ready, four of them aiming guns. Kylan swallowed. He hated non-magical people and their need to replace magic with bullets.
“Are you here for the calling?” a young man, probably their leader, asked. “Are you joining the rebels too?”
Kylan rolled his shoulders. “Not quite.”
“Then why are you here?” The man glanced at William, then back at Kylan.
“Do you regret your decision to betray your king?” Kylan asked.
The group snorted as one, and an older man spoke, “The Whitestone family will burn. And from their ashes a new power will rise.”
“Let me guess.” Kylan grinned. “This is another one of your leader’s fancy promises.”
“He will rede—”
“I know, I know. He will redeem every fucking soul.” Kylan dived deeper into the Rune, letting the names glow through his dark red and black uniform. “Kneel before me and I’ll be merciful.”
The men stared at his name in the middle of his chest. “We won’t kneel to a Whitestone. Your rule—”
Kylan shot a fireball at the man who spoke, burning his face off before he could finish the sentence.
Four men retaliated with magic: one shot a fireball, two ice darts, and the last called for nature, summoning vines to attack. Three guns fired at once.
Kylan’s ears rang from the sudden sound, but he didn’t have time to look around and see if anyone was hit. He hoped these men couldn’t aim.
Kylan dodged an ice dart and threw one of his knives into a man’s shoulder. Rising, he drew a circle with his sword, cutting the fire mage’s guts out before he could throw a fireball.
To his right, William and Aiden fought with three men. Their weapons covered in fire, burning their opponents with every slash.
Kylan hissed when a mace ripped his arm open from behind. He kicked back, summoning fire with his foot. He hit his attacker and turned, finishing him with a clean stab into his heart.
No one fired a gun again, they never had time to reload.
On his left, Ethan knocked a man to the ground, but before he could cut his head off, the man pulled out his pistol and shot him. Ethan cut the man’s throat as he collapsed, his hands clutching his chest.
Kylan spun away from a vine and blindly shot a fireball in the direction of the attack.
He raced to Ethan and knelt next to him, letting his men finish the rest of the rebels. Kylan turned Ethan onto his back. He was still breathing, but he was bleeding heavily. The bullet had entered under his ribs and exited at his scapula.
He pressed his hands onto the wound. “You won’t die on me. Not like this.”
Ethan coughed up some blood and grinned. “At least I died fighting.”
“No, you won’t.” Kylan looked for their healer, but the man’s head was cut open, the white of his skull peeking out under the heavy flow of blood. He’d be dead if it wasn’t for his healing but Kylan couldn’t heal Ethan now, not without dying himself.
Aiden appeared next to them with the first aid bag, handing Kylan a pile of gauze. “Can you stop the bleeding?”
“I hope.”
Ethan’s eyes closed. His breathing became shallow. Only one side of his chest rose and fell, the other barely moved. Kylan shook his head. Even if he could stop the bleeding, he could do nothing for his collapsed lung. He put his fingers into the wound, guiding his magic towards it. He let the heat burst from his fingers, burning the veins in the wound.
He pulled his hand out and waited, pressing the gauze back to Ethan’s chest.
A relieved sigh left him when the bleeding stopped. Some color returned to Ethan’s face, and his breathing became stronger. Kylan lifted the gauze to see what else he could do. The wound slowly closed in front of his eyes. A thin red line had remained where the whole had been, and Ethan took a deep breath, both sides of his chest rising.
“It’s not possible,” Kylan muttered.
Ethan wasn’t a healer; he couldn’t heal himself. He checked his brother’s thigh, the cut was still there, and the other wound on his arm just clotted. The only injury that healed was the one the bullet had made.
