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“How often do Rogues come to the fae lands?”
I sighed and started walking again, Cerise falling into step beside me. “It’s becoming more frequent. A few years ago, Rogues were suddenly able to pass through the portal to the fae lands, which they shouldn’t be able to do. We had wards built into the portal to prevent that particular volatile brand of magic from getting through.
“But now, not only are they escaping into the fae lands and attacking innocent fae, but we are discovering more Rogues than normal, even in our own lands. We used to find maybe one Rogue a year. Now it’s more like one a month. It’s almost as if it’s an infection that’s spreading.” I shook my head. “We can’t hunt them down quickly enough.” My people were suffering a fate worse than death, and it was only getting worse. The agony, the helpless frustration of being unable to stop this from happening, clenched within me so tightly I couldn’t breathe.
“Can you close the portal?” Cerise asked.
I shot her a wary look, but there was nothing but concern and curiosity in her eyes. “It has been discussed. Some of the chiefs are strong supporters of closing the portal and cutting off our connection to the fae lands. But if we do that, we will be isolated from the Realm of Valora permanently. We no longer have the power to create portals. It’s something that died off centuries ago.”
“Would that be so bad?” Cerise pushed aside a low-hanging vine as she walked. “You hate the fae, and the fae hate you. Your Isle seems to be thriving on its own.”
“Only because of the resources we get from here,” I said with a wry smile. “Some people, the chiefs included, tend to forget that. Most of the fae don’t trust us, but there are always some who are willing to trade with us. We get many of our crops from the local fae farmers. Wheat, rice, spices… Plus iron, steel, cotton, and so much more that we can’t produce on our own. Our soil isn’t fertile enough for certain crops. I don’t think anyone fully realizes how much our way of life would change if we cut off access to those resources.” I paused, chewing on the inside of my cheek.
“What?” Cerise asked.
“I just don’t think isolating ourselves is the answer.” I ducked underneath a branch and swatted away a spiderweb clinging to its leaves. “Yes, our conflict with the fae isn’t ideal, but we will never grow as a kingdom if we don’t embrace other cultures and people. I believe things can be better. Someday.”
“Perhaps with your new king?” Cerise asked, a hopeful note in her voice.
But her comment only reminded me of my future. I was to be that new king. And I didn’t know if I was qualified enough to make such a change in our kingdom. I found myself scowling, my chest twisting with uncertainty.
“Or not?” Cerise said quickly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
I shook my head. “No matter. That’s it straight ahead, isn’t it?” I pointed to a familiar weathered cottage barely visible from between the trees.
Cerise’s breath hitched and she nodded. Her hands fiddled with the fabric of her skirts, and she gnawed on her lower lip.
“You can wait out here, if you like,” I said gently.
“No,” she said, her voice sharp. “I’m doing this.”
I nodded once. “Very well. Let’s see what we can find.”
Nineteen
THE WITCH
My breath felt trapped in my lungs as I made my way to the place I had once called home. I was strangely grateful for Alaric’s presence beside me; I didn’t have the courage to face this on my own.
Never in my life would I have imagined I would lean on a Wolven Mage for strength. As bizarre as it was to have this nude, muscular man striding alongside me, I was relieved to have him here.
We had almost reached the door when I found my eyes drifting to Alaric’s backside for the millionth time. I bit back a curse. This would not do. His lack of clothing was far too distracting for me, and I couldn’t keep my gaze from wandering to… certain areas. No matter how somber my thoughts were, my attention kept fixating on his nakedness.
“Hold on,” I muttered, my face on fire as I stomped toward the clothesline pinned to a nearby tree. Several articles of clothing were still hanging from it, forgotten and abandoned. But, unfortunately, none of them were suitable for Alaric. It wasn’t as if we had men’s garments lying around.
With a frown, I grabbed a firm, tan blanket and tossed it to Alaric, who caught it with raised eyebrows.
“You can wear that,” I said, unable to meet his gaze. I awkwardly gestured to my own legs. “Wrap it around like…” I trailed off, feeling like an idiot. I’d seen other Mages on the Isle dressed in similar wraps and skirts, so I knew it wouldn’t be difficult for him to put on. But I was too embarrassed to form the right words.
I couldn’t help but peer at Alaric’s expression to gauge his reaction. Confusion marred his features for a moment, but then the corners of his lips twitched as if he were trying not to laugh. I waited for him to say something, perhaps to tease me about my discomfort. But he remained silent as he wrapped the fabric around his waist, then tied the corners in a knot to secure it.
“Better?” he asked, his eyes full of amusement.
I looked him over. He was still alarmingly distracting—the rippling muscles in his biceps and pectorals were impossible to ignore—but at least his lower half was covered.
“Yes,” I said with a nod. “Much better.”
I was immensely grateful he hadn’t laughed at me. It wasn’t as if I wanted to look at his body. But I often couldn’t control where my attention wandered to.