Gade
ring my body, burning my flesh, while I lie like a corpse on a funeral pyre, my heart still beating. My sight and hearing function normally. But no matter how hard I try, other than my eyes, I can’t shift a muscle to protect the human against the ancient power of the annlagh.
She will be crushed. Or worse, dragged underground to the creature’s lair of narrow, twisted passages of packed dirt that snake forever down to the hell realms.
The mortal will be tortured. Broken. Remade. And then broken again.
Forever.
I draw on my reserves of power and attempt to transmit a message to the girl with my eyes, my energy, my very being.
Speak wisely, I tell her silently.
Promise nothing.
Run.
Run fast and do not look back.
My gaze shifts sideways, scanning the birches that circle our hut on the hilltop. A bank of swirling clouds looms over the trees, a gray dragon of smoke and fury coiled as if ready to strike. If only I could reach out with my power and control it. Weaponize it.
But I can’t. I may as well be a block of marble for all the use I am to her.
The girl’s calm voice draws my focus.
“What is an annlagh?” she asks, swooping low like a trained assailant and sliding my sword from its sheath against my hip.
Fire licks from the annlagh’s mouth. “You dare draw a weapon against me, mortal?”
With the sword clenched in her hand, the tip pointing down, the human stands firmly, projecting a brave but foolish front.
“You’ve told me that I’m at your mercy, therefore, I’d be a fool if I didn’t try to protect myself. Can you truly fault me for not rolling over and waiting to die?”
The annlagh inclines his head, the jewels tinkling merrily from its antlers, a strange contrast to the violence brewing in its eyes. “I cannot. You are brave at least, a trait worthy of some respect.”
My breathing labored, I study the annlagh’s grisly limbs, the drool dripping from its maw. An unusual thing to notice considering the circumstances, but its yellow eyes, at least in color, are a near match for the girl’s.
In a final, desperate bid for assistance, in my mind, I call to the High Mage of Talamh Cúig, even knowing it’s a futile endeavor. I’m too far away, too weak to be heard. I can’t even reach and touch my garnet ring, which strengthens my connection to Ether.
The mortal lifts her chin. “You haven’t answered my question, Annlagh.”
“You wish to know what I am? Very well. I am a nightmare made flesh and bone, as old as time itself. Not a combatant for you to face, child, simply your death sentence.”
“A terrifying description. But if I’m to die anyway, will you at least tell me your purpose here?”
The creature nods. “As the only one of my kind, I live a lonely existence, so I must rise once a century to take a mate and slake my demon’s appetite. But thanks to the fae who lies before you and his wretched eagle, I’ve been awakened early, forced to protect the sacred boar to which I am bound.”
The girl draws a sharp breath. “You’ve killed Lleu?”
“The reckless bird flew away, mortal. It lives, unfortunately. For now.”
Dragging the sword tip through the grass, she circles the annlagh, forcing the beast to pivot to keep her in his sight. I cannot fathom why it hasn’t blasted her to dust yet. Perhaps it’s as confused and fascinated by the daft human as I am.
“Why didn’t you kill the eagle?” she asks. “You could easily have done so.”
“And, behold, now a compliment!” Deep laughter grates like rocks tumbling in an avalanche. “You’re not as foolish as I first suspected and have guessed the obvious. The bird lives because I did not wish to end it. But its time will come.”
He lunges forward, and the human steps in front of me, brandishing my sword with a shaking arm as if the weapon is as heavy as a tree limb.
My eyes flare wide.
Move away.
You cannot protect me.
Run.
Run now.
The annlagh grins. “Do not fear for your companion. No matter how badly I long to hurt him or speak his true name—I cannot. Such are the rules that bind me when I ascend from my earthly mound when it’s not my season. Here in the Above Realm, that fae on the ground has amnesty, but after it maimed the boar, his bird did not. I may have toyed with it a little, but I didn’t kill it. And as for your fate, human, well, I am undecided, but confess the many options delight me.”
As the annlagh reverses their positions and stalks a broad circle around us, Holly grips the sword with both hands.
“For now, I think I shall allow you to live. You are insignificant, but remain of interest to me.” Drool drips from his fangs as he leers, breath steaming from his mouth in fetid tendrils. “I am curious to know how you would fare in a coupling with me. Before long, I shall need another mate. I’ve never had a human. How loudly would you scream, I wonder. And would you survive the ordeal, pet?”
Holly’s gaze doesn’t break contact with the creature’s eyes.
He snarls and snaps his jaws close to her throat. “I look forward to the future hunt. Today, you will live, and my servants and I will keep watch on you.”
Holly’s shoulders rise and a visible shiver undulates down her spine. “Your servants? And who might they be?”
“Never mind, mortal. Only know that your deeds in Faery will not go unseen. Act accordingly. I cannot kill your friend today, but I can hurt him and impede his healing, which in time, may have fatal consequences. What would you give to have me leave him be?”
Their heads bow together as they whisper.
No. Do not promise him anything. Not one thing. Nothing.
The girl gives a sharp nod, then steps away from him, her eyes flicking briefly to mine. If I’m not mistaken, trouble brews in their depths.
What has she done?
Bid him farewell, I try to impress on her mind. Do it now. Bow and walk into the trees where the shadows are dark and long. Hide.
But, of course, she cannot hear me.
Her jaw clenches. “If you’re not interested in murdering us, then why are you here?”
Back to that stupid, dangerous question.
The annlagh steps forward, his claws gripping her stubborn chin. “First, I smelled your blood, earthy and delicious.” Leaning close, he inhales, his whiskered snout slobbering along the side of her neck. “Yes, very nice indeed. Perhaps I shall sample you now.”
Mottled fangs lengthen as his mouth opens. The girl shrieks, slashing the sword at the creature’s bowed legs. This distraction weakens the immobility spell, allowing me to break free of it.
Fury lending me speed, I leap to my feet and tear my blade from the human’s grip, pushing her aside and raising it vertically in front of my face.
The Laws of Five prevent me from killing the beast here and now, but I have every right to inflict damage to stop it from hurting my human. A growl parting my lips, I prepare to slice it to pieces and leave only its vile heart beating.
Holly grips my arm, and I jolt as magic shudders through me. Energy explodes from the center of my chest in a flash of white, sending the beast flying across the ground. Roaring, I raise the sword and run toward him, then draw back the blade, picturing his head lying on the ground, separate from his body, his blood dripping down my wrists.
“Prepare to have your head cleaved from your shoulders,” I growl out.
“Gade, control yourself,” says Holly, coming to stand beside me. “He was leaving. Think of the laws he mentioned, the rules you’d break. Please, let him go.”
“Peace, fae,” says the annlagh getting to his feet and picking rocks from his antlers. Smirking, he walks slowly backward, palms up in surrender.
“If you ever go near her again, I will kill you, rules or not. Do you understand?”
“I do.” He chuckles. “You couldn’t possibly make yourself clearer.” He bows his head and spins around, flapping a clawed hand over his shoulder in a dismissive gesture. “And that was the second thing I wanted, mortal—to know if he would fight for you. And the answer is, yes, with passion and fervor.”
Passion? That’s not right. Honor might be a better description. I may be curse-ridden, but my sense of right and wrong hasn’t completely deserted me. Yet.
We watch the annlagh disappear underground in a flash of dark-green light and a spray of dirt and rocks.
“Well, that was interesting. What an unusual creature,” Holly says, raising a brow at me.
“Indeed. And a dangerous one. Given his interest in you, we must take great care to avoid his minions.”
“And how will we do that?”
“Flee to the safety of my home as soon as my people arrive. Then I must keep you well guarded. Come, let’s return to the hut before another beast springs from the soil.” For some reason, I smile at her over my shoulder as I stride up the hill. “Breaking out of that immobilization spell nearly killed me, and now I need food and lots of it. Will you cook something tasty for dinner with the leftover rabbit?”
“Certainly,” she says, puffing as she reaches my side. “As long as you help me.”
My brows snap together. “Me?” I point at my chest. “Cook?”
“You’re a guard, aren’t you? You must need to make food while out on your various postings.”
I grunt and stride ahead to avoid answering her question truthfully. I still don’t want her to learn my true identity. Not yet. Not until there is no other option.
Why? Unlike my courtiers, she doesn’t sweeten her words or walk on eggshells around me. She says what she thinks and seems to mean what she says, and I’m not ready to give that up. It is… entertaining to say the least.
Back at the hut, she makes me chop meat and wild onions, then start a broth over the fire while she searches for thyme in the overgrown rear garden.
When the food is ready, we eat in an uncomfortable silence. Uncomfortable for me, because I must constantly work to stop myself from asking questions about her home, her life in the mortal world.
Why should I care? I ask myself again and again, my gaze tracing tendrils of golden hair that curl damply about her face as she finishes her meal.
“Clean the bowls, please,” she says, getting up to tend the pots.
I look behind me as if there might be a servant hovering nearby.
Shaking her head, she puts her hands on her hips. “Try not to look so shocked when you’re asked to do a simple task, Gade. It’s not an admirable trait. Despite the close call with the annlagh, the walk today did your health good. You need to move around to heal properly and build up muscle strength. Washing the dishes will be good for you.” At that, she glances at my bare arms, likely admiring the glyphs that circle them. She clears her throat. “You don’t want to remain an invalid, do you?”
“Of course not,” I snap.
Gritting my teeth, I push off the seat and carry the dishes to the bench where a pail of warm water waits. Slowly, I clean the plates and spoons with a frayed cloth and answer her many questions about the annlagh with short, sharp replies.
How often does it rise? Once a century unless the sacred boar is in danger.
What kind of magic does it have? Old, dark, and powerful.
Could it destroy me? Yes, possibly in my current state. Curse free and in full health—no, absolutely not.
Am I afraid of it? A little, but only for what it might do to those I care about, such as my sister, my cousins, and… her—the foolish human.
Why didn’t it have permission to kill me today?
I throw the cloth on the bench and squeeze between the table and the fireplace she’s busy fussing over, making sure my body brushes hers. Only to distract her, of course, so I don’t have to answer that last question and make her wonder if I’m more than a simple palace guard. At that thought, pain shoots through my skull.
Why? Because it’s a rotten lie. And even thinking one hurts like a lashing of iron.
Disturbed by my passing, she clangs the ladle into the pot and emits a surprisingly ripe curse, then sweeps hair from her cheek before scurrying in the direction of the outhouse, no doubt to get away from me.
“Take care outside,” I yell through the open door, leaning on the frame. “I’d hate for you to run into a boggart. They love to wander around unclothed by the river, and I know how naked bodies upset you—covered in excess hair or not.”
Receiving no word of reply or thanks for my warning, I sigh and shut the door.
Although I’d prefer it if she were, this girl is no fool, and it’s getting harder to keep my true identity from her. But it’s vitally important it remain a secret.
And again I ask myself—why?
Well, the uncomfortable truth is… who knows what liberties she might allow an honorable palace guard? But a faery prince? Likely none. Heat burns through my body.
And, yes, there’s likely something wrong with me for wanting to touch her in that way, I know it. But lately, I cannot stop my mind fixating on wild images of her body and mine that would scare the living wits out of her.
When she returns, I’m lying under the bedcovers in a perfect position to watch her rebuild the fire that I should have thought to tend myself, but didn’t. Next time, I will do it and impress her with my ability to undertake simple tasks, as she called them earlier, without her bidding.
After her task is completed, she sits by the hearth and forms her usual makeshift pillow from a tablecloth, then curls up under her cloak, snuggling into its warmth.
A foreign pressure fills my chest. With dawning horror, I recognize it as guilt because I lie here comfortable, and she sleeps on the cold, hard ground. This bed may be small, but surely there is enough room for one small human girl.
I cough once to clear my throat. “Why don’t you sleep up here on the bed? You would achieve a much better night’s rest.” My voice is low and husky, anticipation for something I dare not ponder smoldering through my blood.
Lit by flames, her tawny head rises from the rags. “You’d be willing to give me the bed?”
“I did not say that.”
“If you expect me to share it, then you’re more touched in the mind than I imagined.”
“Touched?” I ask.
“Deranged. Demented. Unbalanced of mind.”
“I see.” I flip onto my back, interlinking my hands behind my head. “I’m merely practical. And as it turns out, surprisingly merciful to creatures below my station.”
“Creatures like me, you mean?”
“Like humans, yes.”
She snorts and shuffles to face the fire, giving me her back. “Go to sleep, Gade. You’re insufferable. I’d never share a bed with you. I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Because I’d be too busy wondering when to throttle you.”
“You don’t trust me,” I say, a statement, not a question.
“All faeries are untrustworthy.”
“That is untrue, and your assumptions are offensive. Since you’re human, you are in fact the one who spills falsehoods from your lips with ease, not I.”
“It’s not your words I’m fearful of. I’m not ignorant. I’ve heard the tales of what fae do to humans, how they trap them in Faery for centuries and use their bodies until they’re spent. I’ll never willingly be a faerie’s plaything.”
“Never is a long time. There is an old saying about that: never say never. It’s wise because in this realm, as you will soon learn, anything is possible.”
Except, perhaps, for a fae to care for a human—to want to bed her, yes, that is more than possible. But a prince could never bond with a human. I shudder at the very idea.
A terrible thought crosses my mind.
Why did my power surge and break the annlagh’s spell only so I could protect her?
It makes no sense. The answer is implausible. Unbearable.
Because, no, I don’t truly care about her.
I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
Why didn’t I just let the annlagh whisk my mortal-sized problem to the Underworld? He would have done me a service. I am healed enough and could survive without her gentle ministrations.
Why should I concern myself with her fate? The beast admitted that Lleu lives, and this confirms my sister will soon come for me. I no longer need this Holly person’s help.
But still, I rose to fight for her…
Ice slides down my spine as I think over my actions today and all the days since we’ve been confined in the hut. I contemplate the pleasant heat that burns through my chest whenever she is close, the way something claws inside me like a living entity, striving toward her, seeking the forbidden.
What is this madness? The curse twisting my thoughts so I no longer recognize my emotions?
Shuffling onto my side, I stare at the shadows dancing on the wall instead of the outline of her lumpy form beneath her cloak, self-disgust curdling the food in my gut.
Why did anger at the thought of the annlagh touching her leave me willing to break sacred laws, an action that would’ve had dire consequences for my kingdom?
Horror knots the muscles of my stomach.
Thank the Elements she didn’t accept my invitation to share this bed. I might have started something we would both sorely regret.
Hurry, Mern, I think. Please come before it’s too late.
Too late for what? I wonder foolishly.
My eyes squeeze closed, and I’m assaulted by images that answer my question with stunning clarity.
Soft kisses. Tumbled bed furs. Mortal eyes of orange aflame with desire.
Never, I whisper, the pain of a lie ricocheting through my body.
I bite back a laugh, then a groan, the bitter tang of blood coating my tongue.
I’d bet all the gold in my kingdom that tonight, sleep will be a long time coming.
