“You will. And I will allow you to have help. Just two of the four who walked with you on the Side of Fragile.”
That was an old term. The Side of Fragile was what the Fae had called the land of the humans, separated from the world of the Fae. Despite his distrust, Heath wasn’t stupid enough to turn down help.
Cynes and Eiravel.
“So be it. Survive, Kieran of the Shadow, and your men shall be waiting.”
Yeah, like he had a fucking choice. The pain was red-hot, digging through his chest and scalding his nerve endings. But as much as it took his breath away and left him arching in the maelstrom, he could feel the strength returning to his limbs.
Each breath had less rattle.
He could clench his hands.
The weight on his chest lifted.
He was being reformed, remade, from the inside out, and he couldn’t run away from it. Everything he thought he knew was a lie. He attempted to focus on the memories to wash away the agony. To piece together what had happened. But try as he might, he couldn’t remember anything else but Sorlisalvalkeld—slave— branded into his neck. The burn. The gnaw of hunger. The rupture of his internal organs as Seelie Fae enjoyed beating him into the dust.
And the way they’d always given him enough time to heal so they could do it again.
The way they’d taken things from him, irreplaceable things he could never get back.
But … Silva. He believed her. Believed she hadn’t known. Hadn’t been aware. How could that be, though, when he’d seen her? When he watched her pour silver into a blade and cut down some of the only family he’d ever known? He’d witnessed her joy as their blood sprayed in wild patterns around them.
Could someone impersonate a Fae Queen?
He wasn’t so sure, but he’d have to find out the truth. He had to in order to ever have a chance of going home. Even if Romano wanted to kill him for the harm done to Kalinda, or if Dominic called for his head for attacking those under his protection, Heath had made a promise to Lorenzo that he’d make this right, no matter what it took. It was one he intended to keep.
He slumped, falling faster than ever through the inky darkness that rolled and shifted. Fell until he slammed into the ground, the wind knocked out of him. Heath lay there, gasping for breath and jerking.
“Hold, Kieran. Hold.”
A warrior trained through and through, Heath opened his eyes to assess the threat. Eiravel hovered over him, his pale, nearly white blond hair hanging over his shoulders. Heath looked to his lips, searching for the fangs that protruded anytime an Unseelie was ready for battle or threatened. The fact they were not visible signaled things were okay … for the moment.
“Where the fuck are we?”
Eiravel shrugged, blinking his dark, star-studded gaze. “In Between. Not sure where.”
The eyes were a mark of an Unseelie as much as the fangs. They all were dark-eyed but had varying shades of sparks around the pupils depending on their gift. Eiravel’s were red, a hint to his battle prowess.
“Somewhere between fucked and fucked harder would be my guess.” In contrast, his twin, Cynes, had golden sparks for his skill with metal work. He could use precious stones like rubies or diamonds to enchant his armor and blades. The fucker also thought he was a walking comedian.
Heath groaned and forced himself to sit up. He had no sense of immediate threat, but he didn’t want to tempt fate lying down.
“We’ll figure it out,” he promised.
“Aye, I’d assume we must. Portals appeared under our feet while we were heading toward Encantado’s borders to escape and we ended up here. I’ve no doubt our brothers and those wolves we enlisted are somewhere here looking for us,” Eiravel offered.
Heath cursed. Another issue to contend with. He’d hired the Renegades, an elusive group that could be hired for the right price. But Heath had learned something very important about those wolves. The right price typically was the right cause to fight for. They’d been ostracized, bullied, and hunted by humans, and they had a more traditional view of the separation between humans and paranormals because of it.
Many feared and wanted to destroy what they didn’t understand, and the Renegades were no different.
But then, the illness of not knowing the truth seemed to infect everything around Heath.
Finally, his gaze rested on his surroundings, and he sucked in a breath.
“What the hell?”
Eiravel looked around too. “When was the last time you saw the In Between like this?”
