Episode Ninety-Four

FAIRIES OF SUFFERING

My bride to be.

Maven's words ring across the meadow.

Bran tenses beside me.

It means nothing to me—I never had any plan to follow through with my betrothal—but I know Bran is terrified that somehow, someway, the marriage will go through and he'll lose me to the fae.

Baspin and Bianca are still ahead of us, standing between me and Maven with several vampires and shifters hovering on the edge, waiting for a command to attack.

Bran's grip on me tightens. "Mouse," he says, his voice low and throaty. I know he wants me to stand back and stand down, but there's no way in hell I'm letting anyone else fight my battles now.

Bianca snaps her fingers and blue flame ignites in her hand. Beside her, in his opposite hand, Baspin holds a matching flame.

"Lending your power out to witches now, are you?" Maven says. "I know it's been a while since I've seen you, dear Baspin, but I never would have expected you to have stooped so low."

The flame blooms wider in Baspin's hand. He doesn't strike me as the kind of person to be ruffled by a little bit of goading but clearly there's something between him and Maven to stoke his irritation.

"And I never would have taken you for a man who would have to force a girl to marry him."

Maven sniffs at the insult.

Cal and his shifters spread out in a formation that reminds me of predators corralling prey. The fae echo the movements and when Arion gets a good look at them as they step further into the ethereal fairy light pouring from the open gate, his brow furrows into a deep V. He turns to me and Bran.

Voice low, he says to Bran, "I think you should take her away from here."

"Are you insane? I'm not leaving."

He gestures with a thumb over his shoulder. "The fae warriors you see over there? Those aren't just any soldiers. Look at them. Look at their clothing, their markings."

I scan the people standing beside Maven.

They aren't wearing the bright, shiny clothing of the Summer Court, all sequins and pastels. Instead, they're dressed in dark fabric and black leather armor with blades strapped to their backs and their hips.

Several of them have black markings on their hands and on their necks, symbols and swirls that are distinct enough they must have specific meanings. But whatever they are, I'm not familiar with them.

There is a man standing on Maven's left who has the kind of pride in his shoulders that makes me think he's the one in charge of this army.

A dark mark, like a swirl of black smoke, covers half his face, the bottom of it starting at his collarbone, splashing across his face to the opposite side at his temple. His eyes are gold like Bran's.

Just looking at him makes me shiver.

"Who are they?" Bran asks.

Arion is quick to answer. "They're known as the Fairies of Suffering. They belong to no court. The darkest of the dark fae. I'm shocked the queen was able to bring them to her side." He glances back across the clearing. "She must have offered them something they couldn't refuse."

"I've never heard of them," Bran admits.

"They don't usually make themselves known. They reside on the far edges of the fae realm. It's been a long time since I've laid eyes on one. They keep to themselves but?—"

"But what?" I coax when he trails off.

"They do tend to show up at times of war and, well, suffering ."

Great.

"Jessie," Maven calls out. "Can we speak privately? This really is a matter meant for royalty, not the peasants."

Arion grits his teeth and whirls around. "You're one to talk, brother."

Maven smiles that dazzling smile. Even in the darkness, across the meadow, I can see the bright white of his teeth. "Whatever do you mean?" He has no idea he's walked right into Arion's trap.

"Didn't your mother tell you?"

"Arion," I warn, because I'm not sure this is the time or place for big family revelations.

But he ignores me.

"Your mother had an affair with a lowly winter courtesan. Which makes you, dear brother, a bastard and me the heir apparent."

Maven's smile grows taut against his teeth.

"Her plan was to marry you to Jessie, legitimizing your lowly blood," Arion goes on.

Maven's nostrils flare. I can sense his desire to accuse Arion of lying, but of course, as a summer fae, Arion can't lie. Not like I can.

Everything he's said is the truth.

"Deep down I think you always knew you didn't belong," Arion adds. "I know I felt it."

"Maybe you believe it to be true," Maven says. "Doesn't make it so."

Arion shakes his head. "Your mother admitted as much to Jessie. I heard a recording of her confession."

Maven's just digging a deeper hole, every word Arion says cementing the truth a little more.

The Fairies of Suffering are spreading wider as the brothers talk. The way they move is not unlike that of the shifters. Nearly silent, hard to detect without staring right at them.

"Mouse," Bran says again, the warning clear in his voice.

The air is charged with impending carnage. I can feel it. I know Bran does too.

I put myself in front of Sam. "Please promise me you'll run if things go south?"

She snorts. "You're funny."

Dammit Sam.

If only I didn't have such a stubborn, badass best friend.

Before we left, Cal gave her a blade that she has strapped at her hip. It's a fine weapon, crafted by some infamous weapons master that Cal has on speed dial apparently. The blade has a stout handle but with delicate filigree along its side. It's hard not to think he had the blade specifically made for Sam because when she took it in hand, it fit her perfectly, all of it balanced for her grip and size.

But will it be enough to fight fae known as the Fairies of Suffering? Highly doubt it.

"I came here to retrieve my future wife," Maven calls out. "Regardless of what stories you've been fed, brother, that fact will not change. Jessie and I will be married, and we will unite the courts and restore the balance to the fae realm."

"Think again," Bran says, his voice ringing out and then he shoots across the clearing, headed straight for Maven.

Now that I've been in the middle of several fights and battles, I have to wonder if all war starts the same: quietly at first, and then all at once.

Unseen one moment, absolute carnage the next.

The shifters and vampires go after the Fairies of Suffering and my stomach drops when I see how they fight.

Their violence is like physical poetry. Elegant. Concise. Every movement short, but punctuated with pain. They cut through the vampires and shifters with barely any effort at all.

Goosebumps race up my arms.

We are in trouble.

Going straight for Maven, Bran lands a punch to the prince's stomach and the fae doubles over. Arion charges too, his blade drawn. But Maven dances away, sucking in air.

Bran moves faster than the fae prince, but not by much. And Maven recovers quickly, pulling his own sword from the sheath at his hip.

Now it's Maven against Bran and Arion. They circle one another.

On my left, Baspin and Bianca fight two Fairies of Suffering with their blue-flamed magic and manage to bring one to their knees.

On my right, Cal steps between Sam and another fairy, his face already covered in splatters of blood.

Maven swipes his blade in an arch, catching Arion across the arm. The fabric of his shirt splits open and blood pours from the wound.

A chill spreads over my shoulders and my breath puffs out white in front of me, then crystalizes into snowflakes.

The crackle of power dances down the nape of my neck.

I know Maven is a victim of circumstance, and he's been lied to his entire life by a mother who wanted only power, but he is not, and will not, harm my brother or my boyfriend.

I won't let it happen.

Instinct takes over.

I may not fully understand my own powers, but I have faith my body does. The power has always been there. And now I'm going to use it.

The darkened sky grows darker as thick clouds roll in. Snow swirls in the air, the wind picking up. Soon the snow is ice, cutting across my skin, swirling around me like a tornado.

Maven charges after Bran as Arion tries to stop the flow of blood pouring from his arm.

I raise my hands, pulling from whatever deep well of power I have. Ice spreads out from my fingers and power snaps through the air.

"Maven!" I shout, distracting him before he hurts Bran.

I yank on that power, feeling the buzz of it, the connection between me and the earth and the air.

Maven looks up just as giant icicles fall from the sky aimed right for him.