FORTY-FOUR
SAGE
I’ve just finished showering and dressing when Faelan calls from outside my cottage. “If you’re coming, Sage, I’m leaving right now. Meet me out front.”
I hurry outside, trailing him to the car.
“Where are we going?” I ask as we pull down the driveway onto the main road.
“Romania,” he says. Because that’s completely normal.
“Like, the country?”
It turns out that the poison was made in Romania of all places. Faelan explains that Marius knows a guy in Bucharest who we can contact. Apparently, he’s the only druid in the area who makes that specific species of poison. When I ask how we’re going to fly to eastern Europe and back in a day, since I’m guessing he doesn’t want me to miss my own Emergence ceremony, he says we’re not flying.
“Swimming takes a lot longer than a day,” I say. “What. Are we teleporting?” Not much more could surprise me at this point.
“In a manner of speaking.”
And there you go.
“It’s a passageway,” he continues. “There are different passages that go different distances. We can’t use the one at the Cottages because it doesn’t have enough juice. It only works for local spots.”
Of course there’s a teleportation thingy back at the Cottages. “Where is there a passageway, or whatever, at the house?”
He glances sideways at me. “The backyard. The waterfall. You watched Marius come through.”
I decide I’m not going to fully comprehend half this stuff, and go back to why we’re looking for one of these passages in the first place. “So what’re you planning on doing once you find this druid who made the poison?” I ask.
“Convince him it’s in his best interest to tell me who bought it from him.”
“What makes you think he’ll tell you anything if it’ll get him in trouble?”
“I’ll persuade him.” I can tell by his tone he’s planning on doing it through pain, and at this point I’m pretty okay with that.
I can’t think why any of these Otherborn would want to poison me. They all seem more interested in showering me with ridiculous gifts than hurting me—well, except for the whole Kieran-slicing-my-neck-open thing. Which was apparently a mistake? This place is all upside down, so who can tell.
“Could this druid be the one who wants to hurt me?” I ask. That seems too easy, though.
“A druid rarely does anything so huge—especially something like attacking a high-ranking demi—without backing. The Cast would make sure his head rolled without blinking. He probably wouldn’t even get a trial. Having the backing of a House covers his actions. The reality is, there are probably layers and layers of messengers involved. We may not find the killer before the Emergence. But we need to try.”
We leave Malibu and drive through the Valley. Finally we’re pulling off the highway and heading down a frontage road. When we turn onto the next street, I have to do a double take to be sure I’m seeing right. “Are you taking me to a graveyard, Faelan?”
“There’s a passage here and I know it works. I used it to take you to Lailoken the night Kieran killed you.”
“It’s in a graveyard?”
“Yes.” He gives me a tired look, apparently not up for all my newbie questions.
I just shake my head.
He parks on top of a rise, farther back in the cemetery, and gets out, pointing at a crypt in the distance. “It’s right there.”
I follow him along the headstones toward an overgrown part of the graveyard. Large hydrangeas crowd around a fence with weeds poking through, and up ahead is an old stone structure with a broken metal gate.
“So the demigods use cemeteries as public transportation. Huh.” This isn’t something I would’ve guessed in a million years.
“A majority of the time we use average human transport, since gateway travel can be depleting, but . . . well, yeah.”
“Did this dead person give you permission to use their resting place as a subway station?”
“It’s an old gate, so the family’s—” He stops abruptly.
“What’s wro—”
He covers my mouth with his hand and puts a finger to his lips. He points at a dark spot a few yards ahead, just outside the crypt, like a puddle in the weeds. A black oily puddle.
A wraith.
I stumble back and turn to run.
Faelan tries to grab me. “Wait. Don’t!”
Black smoke fills the air three feet in front of me, shifting and forming into a man. Faelan yanks me back as Kieran takes shape.
A hiss and a slurp come from the ground behind us, the wraith emerging, growing, its shadow falling over us as it rises from the ground, floating in a dripping mass.
Hundreds of birds burst from the surrounding trees, taking flight in a cacophony of screeches. They swarm in a mass, swooping up, then turning. At first I think Kieran is sending them out, but then I remember the birds coming after me in Faelan’s cottage that first day. And when I glance at my protector, his features are pinched in focus.
The birds come around in a dark cloud, heading straight for us. I duck as the shrieking mass dives in a sharp slice at the air.
And cuts right through Kieran.
He bursts into black smoke again, the birds flying out in a chaotic disarray.
Kieran re-forms, a bored look on his face. “Let’s not play this game, bastard.”
“What do you want?” Faelan growls. The birds turn in a wide swooping movement and splat right into the wraith. The oozing creature screeches in rage, breaking apart. Several birds flop to the ground, dead, but the wraith is gone. “Tell your creatures to stand down,” he says.
I look around and see two more wraiths on either side of us, one on top of a swaying bush, the other hovering above the ground in a weird crouched position. Their sucking sound fills the air, and their hollow eyes are turned on me.
“I heard from a little bird that you’re looking for answers,” Kieran says. “I’m seeking some as well, and I’d like to talk to our princess in private.” He bows his head to me. “With your permission, of course, my love.”
“Feck off,” Faelan says.
“Can’t she speak for herself?” he asks.
I search his face for a clue, any clue, that might tell me what he’s up to. “Feck off,” I repeat, trying to sound sure. But as I study his familiar features, the assurance in his tall frame, the sly glint in his silver eyes, I can’t stop my legs from shaking. A part of me wants to walk toward him; it craves his touch. It wants . . . him.
But it’s not him that the traitorous part of me wants. That man is gone. Lost.
“You’re of one mind, I see,” Kieran says. “But I still need to speak with you, princess. One way or another. So you’ll come with me now.”
“No way,” I say, stepping back. My pulse picks up. I’m suddenly very sure that if he touches me, I won’t be able to stop myself from surrendering.
Kieran looks sideways at Faelan. “If you allow me to take her without trouble, hunter, I’ll make it worth your while. More riches, more power, than Marius could ever give you.”
Faelan just glares.
“No?” Kieran says. “I thought it was worth a try. If I have to rip off your head, our princess won’t be pleased with me. No one else will miss you, though.”
At the vision of Faelan being torn in two, warmth rises into my skin, buzzing in my chest.
I step in front of Kieran, blocking his path to Faelan. “What do you want?”
His gaze moves to me. “You.”
My heart stutters. I shake my head.
“Come with me, little doe,” he says. “It’s urgent that we discuss what I’ve discovered. I’ll allow you to bring your protector if you wish. Or I can pull his entrails out here and now. And I think you know that I will. He doesn’t have to die; he can merely be quartered a bit.”
“You’re a monster,” I say, meaning it.
“Yes.” A smile fills his lips.
“He can do whatever he bloody wants to do to me, Sage,” Faelan says. “I don’t give a shit. But if you give in to him, he won’t let you go in the end.” Faelan puts his hand on my arm protectively.
Kieran’s muscles tense, readying to strike.
“Don’t, Kieran,” I say. I know he’ll hurt Faelan. He’ll do worse. And he won’t stop until I give in. I can see it in the sharp set of his jaw, the slight rise of the shoulders as his muscles tense. He has the same look of deadly determination that my king wore. An unbreakable will. He’ll get what he wants.
He’s suddenly as familiar to me as if I’ve known him my whole life. And it’s terrifying.
“I’ll talk to you,” I say, my voice weak. Shame fills me, but I don’t see any other way. I can’t let him hurt Faelan to get to me. “I’ll go.”
“No, Sage!” Faelan growls, grabbing me hard. “You can’t.”
Kieran’s eyes lock on Faelan’s grip. And then he’s shifting, smoke, until he’s suddenly re-forming inches away.
He takes Faelan’s head in his hands and turns it with a quick snap, breaking his neck.
The sound jars through my bones. Faelan collapses to the ground, lifeless. But before I can scream, before I can move, Kieran’s got me by the throat.
“Hush now,” he hisses, lips against my cheek.
He turns to the wraiths and their shadows begin to move, darkness crowding around me. My vision clouds, dimming, my mind slipping. I squirm, trying to pull back, urgency screaming in my blood to get away. My power rises, glowing in my skin.
But Kieran’s fingers around my neck are stone. He knows the torque will keep him safe from my fire.
“You have chosen,” he whispers in my ear. “Let go now, my love.”
The words slink over me, coiling around my heart as if they’re coming from the past, coming from my king . . .
I try to find the truth, the light, but I can’t. I can only feel him.
And so I obey. I let the darkness take me.
“You should let go, my love,” the king says. “The wolf won’t relent, that is sure.”
I yank harder on the velvet shawl, but the king’s wolf merely growls, setting its jaw, its teeth firmly gripping the fabric.
The king opens his book again, saying dryly, “You shouldn’t have left it on the floor.” Then he returns to ignoring me as he always does now during his evening read.
“And a wolf shouldn’t be inside,” I snap back. “So the world is topsy-turvy.” I direct my next words to the beast. “Let go, you mongrel, or you’ll be fed to the crows.” The wolf’s brow moves as if it doubts my threat.
So I tug again. The sound of rending fabric fills the air, a hole appearing in the weave. The garment is ruined.
I growl in frustration and release my end. As soon as it falls to the floor, the king’s wolf drops it as well. The creature looks up at me, tongue lolling, mouth open in a toothy grin. Traitor.
“Take it, then,” I say, collapsing back into the chair, too tired to fight any longer.
The king looks up, catching my gaze with his. “And that is why the wolf will always win.”
I give him a questioning tilt of my brow.
He leans forward, resting his elbow on his knee. “Don’t you see? He’s willing to destroy everything you hold dear to claim what he wants.”
The back of my neck prickles.
He closes his book, setting it aside. “And the wolf is very patient.” He stands and walks across the floor to where I sit. He looms over me for a moment, watching, and then he leans forward, gripping the arms of the chair, caging me in. “Once the beast has tasted what he craves, he will hold on to it forever. He has no choice. He won’t let it go.”
I don’t let myself look away or cower from him. I cannot give him any ground. “What do you want from me?”
“You aren’t foolish,” he whispers. “You know.”
I shake my head.
“Oh, but I know you wish for it too, my love. I hear your quick breath in the night; I feel your need through the walls.”
My heart falters.
“Yes,” he says, moving closer. “But it isn’t only your body I crave. I need more, I need loyalty.” He studies me for a moment, his silver eyes softening. He kneels to my level and says gently, “I seek love, Lily.”
A sharp pain hits the center of my chest. I search his face as disbelief trickles in. Surely he can’t mean it.
“We are both alone,” he says. His fingers move to brush my knuckles. “Why do you resist the hand wishing to hold you?”
My throat tightens. I have no answer.
His touch grazes my cheek, coming away damp with tears that I hadn’t felt fall. He leans in and gently kisses my brow. His lips are chilled as he kisses a trail to my temple, the tip of my nose, my salty cheeks. “Let me hold you for a time, Lily,” he whispers into my skin. “Take what you wish from me, I won’t harm you. I could never harm my own heart—”
I stop his words with my lips, reaching out to take his tunic in my fists and pull him closer. And as his arms wrap around me, his hands gripping me, his strength lifting me, I rise . . .
Days and nights merge together . . . Time slips past.
It holds. It builds. As the days weave minds together, a partnership in all things emerging, the nights weave spirits together into one.
Death merged with flame.
In the joining of my essence with his, I am blinded, thinking our growing power can allow for no enemies. That our secrets will never be known.
But I am wrong . . . An enemy already lurks among us. She seeks me out to destroy me. To destroy my king. She despises us with an iron will. And she won’t be satiated until we are ripped from each other.
She won’t relent until all the power is hers.