Chapter Two
Malek went still, and his eyes settled steadily on the Prophet.
She didn’t make him ask for clarification; she didn’t make him wait at all. She’d never been the kind to beat around the bush. “The new, hotter fire that burns in your veins?” she said, arching a brow meaningfully, “It’s for a human alone.”
Malek’s strong jaw ticked. “Explain.”
“Of course,” she said lightly, pouring herself a cup of tea. “There is no miracle spell that will rescue you from this discomfort. You and your men are changing because of the added chaos that has entered our realms. It has disrupted matters at a molecular level.”
She stopped and looked back up at him, lifting her tiny teacup with delicate grace, and even stretching her pinky out as if she were the Queen of England. “Attempting magic to halt what you’ve become would be as successful as taking away what makes you Taal and turning you into fairies.” She put down her cup as something cold settled in Malek’s gut. “In short, it is impossible. There is only one way to save yourselves.”
Malek lifted his chin slightly. His eyes glinted; he knew they were heating up with fae power. “What is it?”
She grinned maliciously, and her bright blue eyes sparkled. “Love!”
Malek frowned. “Come again?”
She shrugged as if it should have been obvious. “It won’t be easy, mind you. You have been savages for so long – no offense,” she said, her grin slipping into an utterly disarming twelve-year-old imp’s smile. “You’re a little out of practice on the romancing front. But like it or not, my tall, dark, and hot mess,” she said before pausing and fixing him with a no-nonsense gaze. “Only eternal love can save you from this disaster.”
Her voice had lowered, and her tone was changing. She leaned forward, waving her hand. The tea and sweets disappeared at once and all of her attention was focused on him. He felt a force surround him, heavy and dire, and he recognized it. This here was her prophecy. Everything else was pretense. This alone was what made her who and what she was.
Her voice now echoed as she spoke, and the air around them began to fill with mists. They swirled and gathered as the Prophet’s blue eyes lightened to green, and then a glowing yellow.
“Your men must find their match, their Kindred. None will recognize her at first. The truth can be revealed through the Taal Kiss alone.”
The Taal Kiss… Malek closed his eyes and swore softly despite his present company. A heady cocktail of dread and possibilities coursed through him like the yin and yang of oil and water. But the Prophet wasn’t finished with him, and he knew what she was going to say when she said it next.
“The desire must be matched. She must fully surrender to the Kiss. And when it is finally given…” Her voice trailed off as she paused, and the yellow glow of her irises flashed with importance. “You will then know if she is the right one.”
It’s impossible, Malek thought. His men were powerful, and they were strong. But the Kiss was maddening. Could any of them hold back during this single act that he had banned among his people long ago because of its inescapable dominion? Could any of them really keep control long enough during the Kiss to ensure his victim’s survival?
“You’d best hope so,” said the Prophet as the glow left her eyes, the mists began to clear, and the weighted atmosphere began to lift. He felt it easier to breathe once more. But it was nevertheless unsettling that she had been reading his mind. There were very, very few beings in the realms who could read the mind of the Taal lord.
“Bear my warning, Malek Taal,” she said seriously, despite the return of her voice to the normal intonations of a twelve-year-old. She captured his attention as if she’d tied him down and propped his eyeballs open with toothpicks. He couldn’t look away, and his ears were pricked. A warning from the Prophet was life-altering.
“If a Taal’s Kiss reveals that she is not his Kindred, he must relent. The woman must be released completely unharmed. This, above all, is essential. If she is not…” Again, she trailed off, but Malek was settled with blue eyes that suddenly became stormy, like a highly troubled sea. “I see separation. Loss. And most importantly, war. The empire you have built will crumble. This will be the fate of the Taal.”
Malek let her words echo through his mind as he leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. But then the little girl Prophet cocked her head to one side and asked, “Would you like a hint?”
Malek blinked. “What do you mean?”
“About you and your Kindred, my lord.” She grinned a broad, white smile.
Malek’s jaw clenched. He was about to face the Unseelie King and attempt to glue a tenuous crack in the relationship of the Taal and the rest of the dark fae. His blood was burning in his veins with a new and driving need that grew worse every day, and his men were already succumbing. There was more the Prophet could tell him that would help in this situation, and she hadn’t been planning on sharing?
“Of course I was going to share,” she told him, her expression as happy-go-lucky as ever. There was not an ounce of fear on her face, nor regret. “I just hate it when you leave.” She shrugged, looked down, and said, “You will find the answers you seek in the form of a warrior, Lord Malek. A force against wrong, strong to the end.”
Malek stared at her with wide eyes. A warrior who fought against wrong? The Unseelie fae were not exactly right. The Taal, in particular.
A peal of childish laughter drew him from his ruinous thoughts.
“I never said it would be easy.” She had somehow conjured a cup of tea while he was ruminating, and now she sipped at it innocently. “But I know you. You wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She was right. He enjoyed a challenged – though the current situation with his men was potentially calamitous. Still, as it always did when he was faced with a contest, his mind began to work meticulously. The word warrior made him think of wardens. But there were so many of them. Where would he even begin among them?
The wardens who’d met with the sovereigns… that was a place to start. They’d been chosen specifically because they were among the best, high ranking, and nearly infallible. Two of the five had been women.
Malek Taal looked up and refocused his attention on his companion when the twelve-year-old’s visage became a wincing, decidedly worried face. He cocked his head to the side, interested, if puzzled at the sudden change.
She shook her head and gritted her little teeth. “Malek… you sometimes scare me, you know,” she said in reprimand.
He raised a brow, a little perturbed.
She continued, gesturing with her chin as she reached distractedly for her cup. “Yeah,” she confirmed, chewing on her cheek with uncharacteristic disquiet. “You’re fearsome when you smile like that.”