Chapter 1
Cambria
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Everything hurts beyondbelief, but all of that fades away as fear and adrenaline floods my veins. Dorian’s grip is tight on mine as I lean into him for support standing, favoring my better leg. It may be a multitude of burns and gashes, but at least it didn’t catch a bullet like the other thigh. My skin is pale and clammy and despite days passed out and recovering in Faerie, I barely feel a blip of my typical energy thrumming through my veins.
The fae’s face before us is a mask of calm, cold fury. One arm is crossed over her stomach, and the other is on her opposite cheek as she tilts her head to the side, sizing us up.
“Now would be a really good time to show off those supposed monster taming abilities.” Dorian sounds breathless, not taking his eyes off of the changeling in front of us.
Her long blonde hair is windswept, swiping her tongue over a stray drop of blood on her lips. The eyes though...that’s what causes my stomach to churn. Solid black, not so much as a hint of color. It’s impossible to tell where her gaze is focused beyond the direction she’s facing, let alone give any insight into her emotions. Body language is all I have to base anything off of, along with the predatory air radiating off of her lithe form.
“I’m calling bullshit on that whole thing.” Getting another shooting pain in my stomach, I press a palm against it, trying to keep myself stitched together so that my insides stay where they belong. “If that panther wasn’t even scared of me, why the hell would this thing be?”
Dorian takes a small step back, testing the waters, and the changeling’s lips pull back in a snarl. Instantly he stills, but the creature doesn’t relax.
“To be fair, you didn’t attempt to use your abilities on it. Maybe you’d have been surprised to find out how easy it was,” he attempts, nervously rambling as we both scramble for an idea.
“Low on stores, D. Barely have enough energy to stay upright at the moment, let alone try to manipulate anyone.”
“But you’ve been here for days,” he counters anxiously, and I just gesture down my body since that sums it up better than anything.
“Been a little busy not dying.”
The changeling slowly shifts her stance and we tense. Dorian releases my hand long enough to press a gun into it. “Out of ammo, but at least a blunt object.” He then switches the dagger to his dominant hand.
“Well, why do you get the knife? If I’m Van Helsing over here, I should get the cool weapons.”
Not that it would actually do any good either way, but my rising panic has cut off the connection to my brain, rambling as much as he was to try and postpone our deaths for another few seconds. All the while the changeling just watches, barely even breathing, she’s so unnaturally still.
“Because you’re about two seconds from collapsing and you know it.” The teasing tone I’m so accustomed to hearing from him is gone, replaced by reluctant determination.
There’s a small scuff of dirt and pebbles crunching beneath the changeling’s feet, the only sign to anything changing, and I brace myself for impact. The preternatural speed at which she moves is surreal, even my eyes are barely able to keep track of her. In as little as a blink she’s in front of us, sidestepping the slash Dorian attempts and gripping his arm. A swift kick to his leg and a hand palming the back of his neck, it slams him into the dirt.
Rather than blindly strike out, I try to anticipate the next logical move from a predator’s viewpoint, and take a step to the side before she tries to neutralize me as a threat next. But I clearly come across as pathetic, not even worth noticing, because she simply bares her teeth at Dorian as he rolls, embedding the knife into her calf.
Capitalizing on the distraction, I crouch, digging my fingers into the dirt and striving to reach any of the energy that connects us to this place. Elorie’s clearly been sucking it dry throughout her kingdom for my entire life, so much less potent than the shadow court, but it’s still there.
With as scattered as my attention is, it’s even harder to access than usual, but desperation makes the best motivator. I can feel its desire to stitch my wounds back together, but with a mental shove, I force it past them all.
As I start to hum, I watch her movements start to slow, her attention torn between me and Dorian. Since it’s a sure sign that it’s at least having some sort of effect, I risk everything, shutting my eyes and pretending for just a few moments that the world ceases to exist. Raking my nails through the dirt, I keep pulling for more energy, keeping the gun clutched defensively in my other.
My humming morphs into words, imbuing every bit of energy that I’m able to pull into them. Spurred by a sudden idea after Atlas’ constant teasing, I embrace the stereotype in full, a siren’s song escaping into the world. Without any instrument to channel my abilities through, most songs won’t have the same mesmerizing effect. But the breathy sounds turn each word into something hypnotic, coaxing men to leap from safety to the depths of the ocean for merely a voice on the breeze.
The little energy I’d manage to collect while unconscious merges with what I’m pulling and I can feel my body tremble. It just makes me push harder, keeping my eyes shut to hold onto my focus.
A palm on my cheek has my eyes flying open, meeting obsidian eyes that have my heart lodging in my throat. I completely freeze as her lips meet mine, just the barest touch. A soft exhale, and energy rushes into my system like a dam burst, knocking me back on my ass.
“What do you want?” Dorian demands in frustrated confusion, coming into view, coated in dry dirt and openly bleeding scratches, but far better shape than I’d been anticipating. “Leave her alone and you can have me instead, deal?!”
“No!” But it’s too late.
The dark sheen over the changeling’s eyes flashes as she opens her mouth, condemning him in the process of hissing out a single word. “Deal.”
