“Copy that,” came three male voices through the speaker beside the button.
We zipped over the beaten earth road with barely a sound, Tiernan focused ahead. I was still getting used to traveling so fast in Fairy. My father had been the one to start the trials with magic-powered vehicles over on Earth, at his company Gentry Tech. But the Imps in Seelie got further with the idea, so they combined their efforts. Now, there were cairsin all the kingdoms. Only the royals had them so far (and the Imps), but they might become accessible to everyone someday.
The thought of Fairy full of flying cairs made me wince. It just didn't feel right. But in times like this, when we needed to get somewhere fast and inter-kingdom raths wouldn't cut it, a cair sure came in handy. And without the exhaust and noise of cars, their presence didn't seem to bother the residents of Fairy, and that includes animal and plant life.
I looked from the blurred view of the forest out my window to the space between Tiernan and me. Suddenly, the divide seemed vast. Tiernan was my first real adult love. We had gone through shit no one could understand—torn apart and thrust together by a Goddess, hunted by monsters, and separated by a distance I'd never felt so keenly until that moment, sitting beside him.
We had been through too much to feel this way. Only eight months ago, we'd been solid. But that was before the King of Hell started haunting my dreams. Was what Star said true? Did we share something I didn't have with my husbands?
I tried to remember meeting each of them. There had been an instant attraction magnified by Danu's Call. Except for Sever, of course, who had been drawn to me by Anu. Anu's influence hadn't been much different from the Call of Danu—it was divine manipulation. And so it had been with Astaroth as well. We'd been drawn together by Anu. Yet under that divine influence, there had been . . . something else. Knowledge perhaps—a sense that I had met someone I already knew.
My chest clenched as I accepted the truth. It was right there in our names, as if even our parents had known that we were born for each other. Two stars bound by destiny.
And torn apart by love.
A tear slipped down my cheek. Acceptance wouldn't change anything for us. It might make it worse. We were stars, but we were also star-crossed, and I'm not talking about my magic. There was no uncrossing our fate. Astaroth and I hurtled toward each other on a collision course that would result in an explosion so great, it might destroy all the worlds.
Maybe Star was right, and if we had met first, none of my other husbands would have stood a chance. But that's not what happened, and I was glad it hadn't. Yes, it was difficult to live like this, but it was worth it. I wouldn't give up all I had for one man who might have been everything to me in another life. There was only this life for me, and I would protect it from anything and anyone who tried to hurt it . . . including myself.
Chapter Seven
“Where is everyone?” I leaned forward to peer through the windshield.
The Anthousai village of Begonia reminded me of the Cotswolds in England. Cottages with thick thatched roofs huddled under capes of flowering vines and roses. Gated gardens before each home overflowed with fruit, vegetables, and flowers. Greenery abounded, heavily spotted with bright blooms even though it was November.
“I don't know,” Tiernan whispered as he slowed the cair even further.
Before we entered the village, we had dropped to fly three feet above the ground. The other three cairs followed us at a matching elevation and speed along the grassy lanes between the houses. A gray sky hung above us, shedding a light rain. With all the color around—courtesy of Anthousai magic—it shouldn't have felt so melancholy. But not a single window shed light to brighten the dreary day, nor did any of the squat stone chimneys puff smoke. The place looked abandoned. Down to a crawl, we traversed the entire village, finding no one and no reason for the lack of inhabitants. There were no signs of a battle or a struggle of any kind.
“Stop!” I cried.
Tiernan stopped the cair. “What have you seen?” He peered in the direction I stared. “What is that?”
“I don't know.”
Tiernan turned the cair off the road, taking it between houses and then out of the village boundaries. Between the village and the forest was farmland, mainly grain—the crops the Anthousai didn't have the room to grow in their private gardens. Harvest time had passed, leaving the flat land scattered with the remains of tall, golden stalks. Mostly, the bare land looked brown and dry, but at the edge where the farmland met the forest, the ground looked black.
Tiernan stopped our cair a few feet from the dark land and got out. His guards hurried out of the back and moved to either side of him, arms slightly lifted in preparation of magical defense. More cairs stopped beside us, the members of the King's Guard piling out to stand with us and stare at the black soil. Normally, dark soil is good. It meant that it was fertile ground. But this wasn't that kind of black. This black glistened like oil, wet and toxic.
Tiernan went to the edge and crouched to stare at it. “This must be the blight that's been reported.”
I joined him. “It almost smells metallic.”
He held a palm over the ground, just an inch above the black. “And it's cold.”
I mimicked him. Sure enough, the temperature dropped when I brought my hand closer to the ground. I peered up atthe gray clouds and back at the soil. “This sheen isn't due to the rain.”
“No, I don't think so.”
“Your Majesty!” Sir Riosel pointed.
Tiernan and I stood. There, at the treeline, was a mass. It looked like undergrowth, but it was large.
“That's a body,” I said.
“Fuck,” Tiernan whispered, looking from the form to the ground. He lifted his foot.
“Wait!” I grabbed his arm. “Let me see if I can clear a path before you go stepping in that.”
