“This place reeks of…” she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Something you can’t identify,” I finished. “A Veil-storm caught this village many years ago. Veil-storms are what happen when your ancestors recklessly use the Veil as a source of power. Everyone died in a single night, but their spirits couldn’t cross over. They’re trapped here, reliving their final moments on endless repeat. This place is neither life nor death.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “And you brought me here because…?”
“Because the undead don’t care about the politics of the living. They won’t report our presence to anyone who matters.”
“Untie me,” she demanded.
“No.”
“If you want me to go along with your plans, you’re going to have to untie me. I’m not complying until I’m free. I’m sick of your bloodline putting shackles on me like I’m some animal.”
“I don’t view you as a beast like my father does. The restraints are there for your safety, and mine. They’re imbued with magic to help regulate your powers. You can walk, talk, even scratch your nose if the urge strikes. But your hands remain bound. I can’t afford to have your magic spiral out of control.”
“Why? I thought you needed my powers. How am I supposed to use them if they’re completely shut off?”
I’d seen what she could do when her emotions flared. Her power called to mine in ways that made my shadows writhe likeliving things. Every instinct I possessed warned that she was dangerous beyond measure.
And that I was standing too close to the flame.
“Because,” I said evenly, “I don’t trust you not to kill us both.”
She glared at me with enough venom to drop a horse. “I wouldn’t kill you. I’d just maim you creatively and leave you for the wraith-hounds.”
Despite everything, my mouth threatened to curve into a smile. There it was, the fire I’d glimpsed in the ritual chamber. The defiance that had kept her alive through months of torture.
Good.
Broken people were useless to me.
“Untie me,” she repeated.
“No. This isn’t a negotiation.”
“Everything’s a negotiation when one party has magic that can ‘tear holes in reality,’ as you so eloquently put it. You want my cooperation? Start explaining things. Real explanations. Not cryptic bullshit about prophecies and bloodlines.”
The shadows around my feet stirred, responding to my irritation.
She noticed, of course she did, but instead of backing down, she stepped closer.
Challenging me. Testing boundaries.
She raised her chin and met my eyes without hesitation.
“Fine,” I said as I undid her restraints. “But we walk while we talk. Standing still in the Cursed Lands is a good way to attract attention we don’t want.”
I chose our path carefully, avoiding patches where the ground looked too soft or where the air shimmered with heat that had nothing to do with temperature.
She walked beside me with surprising grace for someone barefoot on broken terrain, her movements economical and balanced. Though she was only half Fae, that half clearlydominated. She didn’t move with the effortless fluidity of the full-blooded Fae I’d fought before, but the signs were there in every measured step.
“Start with what I am,” she said once we’d put distance between ourselves and the dead village. “You keep calling me the last of the Veil-touched bloodline, but what does that actually mean?”
“The history has been wiped clean. I’m not sure who did it, but what remains is fragmented. Zephyr and I have been hunting for answers for years. What we know is that the Veil is not of this world. It’s either a place or a portal of some kind, never meant to be used as a conduit for power. The commonly accepted belief is that it’s a form of purgatory. A realm of demons and monsters.” I glanced at her. “I don’t believe that’s true. But it served its purpose. It made it easy to demonize your people, the ones who once wielded that power.”
She didn’t respond immediately, but she kept walking, trying to piece meaning from what I’d said. I was a monster created by the King, but at least I had always known what I was.
I wondered what it would have been like to grow up without that certainty.
