Chapter 8

8

D amon

“It’s bigger than I thought it would be,” Kyrie gushes. Her voice is filled with excitement. “Look at all of that water.” She laughs. “I forgot how vibrant the color green could be.” Her voice hitches with emotion.

I get a lump in my throat, too.

I have to hold the camels back. They dance under us, wanting to sprint to the lush, green patch in the heart of the desert, and I can’t say I blame them. I’m sure they can scent water and food. They’ve probably walked this path many times; they know what awaits.

The oasis is a shimmering paradise, with palm trees swaying gently in the breeze and a crystal-clear pool of water reflecting the brilliant hues of the sun. We make our way toward it, the camels eagerly pulling us closer to the much-needed respite.

As we approach, Kyrie dismounts and runs to the water, splashing her face and taking deep gulps of the cool liquid. I watch her drink her fill. She looks back at me as I dismount; she’s grinning broadly, reminding me of the woman I know so well. My best friend. Only that’s not what we are anymore. A part of me is sad, while another part is happy at the shift in the dynamic. I just need her to trust me again. To actually see me again…perhaps in a different light this time.

Her features change in an instant, becoming serious once more, her eyes darting to the wounded human.

“I forgot about Cyrano.” She frowns as she dashes back to us.

We go through the motions of making the camel go down on its haunches. The male is a little more stubborn, so it takes a few tries. He finally does as I ask, and we are able to untie Cyrano.

“He’s burning up,” Kyrie says, her voice filled with tension.

“He’s still alive and that’s something.”

As soon as Cyrano is off the camel, the beasts run down to the water and start drinking. I leave them. They won’t go anywhere. Helping Cyrano is more important right now.

“Let’s get him closer to the water,” I tell Kyrie, who nods.

She helps me carry him down, getting him close to the edge of the water. I pray that close contact with so much water will revive my magic enough to heal the male.

I remove my shirt and boots and carefully wade into the water in just my pants. It feels cool and wonderful on my skin. My internal well comes to life, and magic buzzes inside me. I can almost hear it. My body feels warmer. My hands start to glow. I’m pretty sure that my eyes will be glowing, too.

I dunk under the surface of the water, my magic bubbling inside me. I hope I will be able to harness it and use it to save Cyrano.

I push to the surface, feeling the water drip down my skin.

Kyrie gasps as I stand.

I refuse to feel ashamed of being who I am…a fae. I keep my eyes on hers, watching her chest rise and fall in quick succession. I don’t think that the look I see in her eyes is of horror, but I can’t quite place it, either. Interest…intrigue, perhaps, mingled with shock. I look every inch of what I am, namely a fae and a powerful one, at that.

I don’t have time to dwell on it. Instead, I focus my attention on Cyrano. He is shivering, moaning in his sleep. His cheeks are flushed. He doesn’t look good at all.

I kneel next to him, the water lapping around my legs. Then I rub my hands together, feeling the magic well inside me.

I pull it up to the surface, drawing it forth, letting it build up higher and higher.

It starts to flow from my fingertips in a soft golden light that envelops Cyrano’s body. I close my eyes for a few moments, focusing all of my energy on healing him, on mending what is broken. I work on pushing out the infection that is taking hold of him. Then, on knitting the flesh.

Kyrie sucks in a breath as the light dances around us, the air tinged with power. She reaches out a hand tentatively, as if to touch the magic itself, but then pulls back.

Minutes pass like hours as I pour every ounce of my strength into the healing spell. The gentle lapping of the water against my legs becomes a soothing rhythm, guiding me deeper into the well of power within.

It’s working. I know it is. I can feel it happen.

With a final surge of power, the light flares brightly before dissipating altogether. The stitches Kyrie put in yesterday fall out. Cyrano’s breathing steadies, his color returning to normal as the fever breaks.

I let out a shaky breath, exhaustion washing over me like a tidal wave. Kyrie kneels across from me, her eyes filled with such emotion.

“You did it.”

I don’t say anything.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen a fae use their magic for good,” she whispers. “At least, it’s the first time since I was a little girl.”

“I’m sorry you have come to expect the worst of us.”

“Why? What changed? Just because an evil queen rules our realm now?”

“I don’t know. All I can tell you is that something very definitely has changed. Something is going on. We’re not inherently a bad species.” I shrug. “We’re just not. I wish I could tell you more, but I don’t have the answers. You’d better believe that I will find out.”

Her eyes narrow, and slowly but surely, distrust bleeds in. “Let’s get him into the shade,” she says, changing the subject.

I nod. “That’s a good idea.” I move to pick Cyrano up, putting my arms under his shoulders. “I took away the infection and have healed his wounds, but he is still weak. He—”

Cyrano opens his eyes and starts screaming. “Let me go! Put me down. Unhand me at once.”

“It’s alright, Cyrano,” Kyrie tries to calm him.

“It’s not alright. It’s a fae. It’s…” He scrambles away from me, pulling in a breath and looking down at himself. “I was injured. You cut me. What did you do to me?” He looks at me with blazing eyes as he tries to stand but falls back to his knees instead. “What have you done?” He touches his chest. I may have healed his wounds, but the scars still remain. He is looking at them like they are still open and bleeding.

“You’re weak. You were injured,” Kyrie tells him.

“By him.” Cyrano turns blazing eyes on me. “What did you do to me, you bastard fae?” he yells.

“No, he helped you,” Kyrie says. “You’re safe now. You were—”

“I’m not safe. It’s… He…”

“He saved you,” Kyrie tries again.

“No.” Cyrano shakes his head.

“This is Taylor. You know Taylor.”

Cyrano squints at me. His eyes widen. “He’s…it’s…an abomination. What black magic? What sorcery is this?”

“I swear, he’s a good fae.”

“No such thing,” Cyrano spits. “The only thing they’re good for is death.”

“Don’t say that.” Kyrie stands. Her eyes are narrowed, and her hands are on her hips.

“I’m telling you that—” Cyrano starts to say.

“No! You have no idea what you are talking about, Cyrano. You were attacked by a lizard bird and badly wounded. You would have died if not for us picking you up. This fae healed you with his magic. He didn’t have to, but he did. You are alive because of him.”

He frowns, looking at me with distrust. “Taylor…I don’t understand. What happened to you?”

“It’s not Taylor. My name is actually Damon. I had a magic spell cast over me, making me think that I was human. I believed it, and therefore, I lived it. I thought I was human for over twelve years. I never knew who or what I was. The spell was undone when it snowed. Like Kyrie said, you are quite safe.”

“I am?” Cyrano asks.

“You are safe, Cyrano,” Kyrie tells him.

The male nods once. His eyes roll to the back of his skull, and he falls onto his back with a thud.

“Cyrano!” Kyrie yells. “What’s wrong with him?” Her brows furrow in a scowl, and her lips press tightly together for a moment.

“He’s fine. He—”

“He clearly isn’t fine. I thought you healed him. I told him that he was safe.” She tries to rouse Cyrano by shaking him softly and saying his name. It doesn’t work.

For a moment there it felt like we might be getting somewhere but it’s clear that we are not. It took all of five seconds for the distrust to creep back in.

“He passed out, that’s all. He’s weak from the blood loss. We will have to wait for Cyrano to gain back some of his strength before we can travel on. He is safe. I did heal him. Let’s move him to the shade. With rest and some food in his belly, he will be right as rain in no time.”

Her expression softens, and she nods. “That makes sense.”

Kyrie

I refuse to feel guilty about my reaction.

No.

Not happening.

It’s normal that I would be skeptical of a fae after all they have done to us. That he used to be my best friend has no bearing. In fact, it means that I mistrust him even more. He lied to me, and there is no coming back from that.

“Ready?” Damon asks, his blue eyes on me. I’m getting used to seeing them, to seeing his platinum hair and pointed ears. It’s starting to feel normal, which worries me.

It isn’t.

I realize that I haven’t replied and nod once.

“On three,” Damon says, and I nod again.

He counts down, and we lift Cyrano’s deadweight, carrying him to a nearby patch of grass under a grove of palm trees. Thankfully, Damon takes most of the weight. He turns and leaves as soon as we have Cyrano where we want him. I watch him walk away.

I sigh heavily.

Then I spend some time making sure that Cyrano is comfortable. I try to give him some more water and thankfully, he swallows some down. I take my time, one small mouthful at a time, until I feel like Cyrano has had enough. His coloring is much better. His breathing, too. I put a hand on his forehead, and he feels normal to the touch.

Damon healed him. It’s just a matter of getting him stronger. He can rest for a while, and then, hopefully, he’ll be up for some food.

When I finish, I see that Damon has untacked the camels, who are happily eating off the nearby bushes. The saddles and all of our gear are under a tree, ready for when we need them again.

I look down at myself. I’m covered in dirt, grime, and sweat. I make my way down to the water, expecting to find Damon, but he isn’t there.

I would like nothing better than to strip down naked, but I can’t risk it, so I take off my chemise and linen scarf. Then I take off my sandals. Lastly, I remove my pants. This leaves me in just my shift. It’s thin, but it comes to just below my knees and covers me well enough, just in case Damon returns. I normally wouldn’t be quite this modest around Taylor, but things have changed.

I look down at the pile of dirty clothing at my feet. I’ll wash them and hang them up when I am done bathing. I can’t wait to get into the water.

Now I understand why there was soap inside the saddlebag. It’s because of this oasis. The fae must use this as a stop as they make their way through the Bohab Desert. I go over to the bags, when I see a cake of the lye soap lying on the rock close to the water’s edge. Damon must have bathed while I tended to Cyrano.

Good!

It gives me some much-needed privacy. I wade into the cool water. It’s heavenly. I groan softly as I wade deeper. The water feels amazing against my skin. I haven’t had a proper bath since I was taken by the fae.

The unexpected coolness soothes my sore muscles and washes away the grime and sweat of the desert.

When I get deeper, I let the weight of my body pull me under the water, staying submerged for as long as possible until I am forced to break to the surface, a smile curving my lips. This is glorious.

I lather the soap in my hands. It’s softer than anything I have ever felt before. Not like the lye and ash we used on the farm. It scents heavily of lavender. It’s wonderful. I place the cake on a nearby rock and get to work.

My smile grows as I lather my hair, taking my time. I go back under, using my fingers against my scalp, feeling all the grime wash off me. I wish I could strip off and wash properly. My shift clings to me, wrapping around my body. I want to feel the water against my naked skin. I want to scrub myself properly.

I stand, the water coming to just below my breasts. I look all around. Of Damon, there is no sign. All is quiet except for the leaves rustling in the light breeze.

I sigh. I need to make it quick. The water will cover me. It’ll be just fine. I slip my sopping shift over my head and place it on the rock. Then I grab the soap and start washing. There’s no time to savor the moment, even though it feels wonderful.

“Pass the soap,” someone says from behind me.

I panic, shriek, and drop underwater.

Kakara help me, but he sounded close. He sounded like he was right there. I open my eyes under the water but, thankfully, the visibility is bad.

I try to stay under. I don’t want to face him, but pretty soon, my lungs start to burn. I resurface, breathing hard, and as expected, Damon is in the water with me. He’s only a few feet away, a smile toying with his mouth. His lips are full. I hadn’t noticed that before.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Damon says.

“I’m bathing,” I grind out. What’s wrong with him?

He frowns in clear confusion. “We often bathe together. Back at the salt mine, we combined our water ration and—”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

“How is it different?” He gives me a half-smile that has something tightening in my belly. I don’t like the sensation. This feels wrong.

“For one, I’m naked. We never stripped down to nothing,” I say in a tone that belies my frustration. “We didn’t share a bucket naked. This is different, and you know it.”

He shrugs his wide shoulders. “The water is covering you sufficiently. You know I would never touch you without permission. You’re safe.”

Without permission. What does that even mean? Does he want to touch me? No. I know he didn’t mean it like that. We’re friends; at least, we were friends. That’s a line we never crossed.

“I-it isn’t p-proper,” I stutter the words, sounding every bit as flustered as I feel. “You’re a man, and I’m a woman.”

“I had noticed, Ky.”

He noticed.

Noticed. Is he flirting with me? Again, my mind shouts a resounding “no!”

“We’re no longer friends,” I tell him. “Things are different now.”

“I know they are. Pass the soap; I’ll be quick. I’m in already. I swear I can’t see anything; your modesty is protected.” He holds up two hands in mock surrender.

I huff out a breath but pass it to him, feeling heat creep up my neck. I hate this. He stands and the water comes to just above his hips. His belly is taut with hard muscle. Everything is taut with muscle. His hair is wet and dripping down his shoulders in rivulets that I want to track with my eyes but don’t.

My mouth goes dry as he starts to wash in languid strokes. I don’t want to watch him, but I can’t seem to look away.

At first, he is intent on getting clean, but then he catches me staring and smirks, his blue eyes glinting.

With a small gasp, I avert my gaze, feeling that same heat rise up my cheeks. My face is burning. This is so wrong on so many levels.

“I’m almost done,” Damon declares, making me turn back to watch him. He rinses off underwater and then stands, drops of water cascading down his sculpted chest and trailing along his defined abs. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in my stomach.

“I’m getting out now, Ky. You might want to avert your gaze; otherwise, it wouldn’t be proper.” He winks at me.

I force my eyes from his chest to his amused stare. I turn away, cursing him inside my head. Cursing myself even more. Against my better judgment – what judgment? – I sneak a look at him from under my lashes.

My jaw falls open as my gaze tracks his strong thighs and meaty ass. His back is muscular, too, tapering at his hips but flaring wide at his shoulders.

He has a beautiful design on his back in black and gold. At first, I think it is a star with sharp edges done in gold. Then, I realize that it is an intricate snowflake. It’s beautiful. It isn’t something I recognize. It must have appeared after he turned into a fae. There was a scar there before. Like he’d been stabbed and burned. The weirdest thing is that Taylor couldn’t quite remember how he got the scar. He said it must have happened when he was too young to remember. I always found that a bit strange. The scar is long gone, and in its place is a masterpiece.

He looks back over his shoulder and grins at me when he catches me looking at him. That tightening in my lower belly happens again; this time, I feel it between my legs as well.

I want.

I…I need…

No! Not with him. Never him.

“See something you like, Ky?”

I choke out a sound of outrage. “No!” I say too soon and with too much conviction. “Quite the opposite!”

Then I turn and grab my shift from the rock. After rinsing it out, I pull it back on. My whole body is burning up with embarrassment. He caught me looking at him. Not just looking, but…I was…I…I was looking at him like I wanted him, and it just isn’t true.

I refuse to be attracted to a fae. Especially him.

When I look back to where Damon stood just minutes earlier, I find the spot empty. In a couple of days, this will all be over. I’ll never have to see him again. I don’t feel the sense of relief I thought I would.

It’s all so confusing. I get to work cleaning my clothes. I don’t want to think about the fae anymore. The sooner I can banish him from my thoughts, the better.