Chapter 7

VALLON

Her violet eyes rounded in surprise, but she didn't say a word. What I had to tell her would come as a shock, and it would hurt her deeply. It was a sad story, and it was hers. I had to tell her for her to trust me at all.

"My father," I began, "loved to hunt. Have you heard of the black-horned mountain deer?"

She remained quiet but shook her head.

"It's a giant of a beast. Some grow as big as Pallasian stallions." And those horses could grow twice as tall as a dark fae. "They live high in the snow-capped mountains. And though we can easily fly up to hunt them there, it's rather difficult to carry them down the mountain. So we hunt them in the spring when they come lower for fresh grass."

I pulled the rabbit off the spit and tore a roasted leg off, handing it to Murgha. She took it, but her gaze remained fixed on me.

"Eat, Murgha."

"Tell me the story," she demanded.

"Eat," I repeated.

When she obeyed and nibbled on what I'd given her, the tightness in my chest eased. I pulled a piece off and ate while I continued.

"My father was hunting in the foothills when he heard men shouting and crying out, as well as the sound of a growling animal. He found four moon fae males fighting off a barga on a cliff. Well, three were fighting, and the fourth was injured."

Murgha gulped hard.

"You've heard of this bear then."

She nodded, brow pinched with concern. "When we were children, Papa would tell us to be good or the barga would get us."

"Not very kind of him."

"No."

"They're a fierce, territorial creature," I continued, "and when they're hungry, they will attack anything. They're four times my size, claws as long as your feet."

She glanced at her booted foot and tucked it tighter beneath her leg.

I ate the last bite of rabbit in my hand and pulled a rag and canteen from my bag. After wiping my fingers, I handed the canteen to her. She sipped it using one hand then handed it back. I settled back across from her.

"What happened next?" she asked.

"My father helped them fight the beast. He was an expert warrior and hunter. The barga finally realized it was outmatched and eventually ran off. One of the moon fae was an ambassador from Issos heading to the eastern realms with three guards. One of the guards who defended the ambassador against the barga had been mortally wounded."

My gut clenched, for this was the part I didn't want to tell her but knew I must.

"My father went to the moon fae, whose wing had been broken and his belly clawed open in the battle with the barga. There was no healer who could save him, my father knew. The injured male had the pale white hair and the purple eyes of a noble-born. He was an Issosian guard."

Murgha had abandoned her meal, the bit of rabbit hanging loosely in her hand in her lap. I should've had her finish her meal before I told her. Too late now.

"The Issosian guard reached out his hand to my father and pulled him close. He was dying. He told my father that he had failed his mate. She was a wood fae and married to another male. He'd found her too late, after she'd married and had a child with her husband, but she was now pregnant with his own child. While he knew he couldn't tear her from her family, he had promised he'd care for her always. He begged my father to watch over his child when he or she was born, knowing they'd be mistreated as a half-breed."

By now, Murgha's tears were streaming freely down her heart-shaped face, my insides twisting at the sight. But I had to tell her all of it.

"My father questioned why he didn't ask this of one of his own men. Why did he ask this of a shadow fae who lived far from the realm of the wood fae? But the Issosian guard knew that the vow of a shadow fae at someone's death was binding."

She didn't ask but a crease formed between her brow, so I explained.

"The shadow fae have a deep reverence for the dead and the spirits when they go on into the afterworld. For us, a promise made to the dying is an eternal vow. Unbreakable."

I took a drink from the canteen then set it aside. "So my father promised to watch over the child when it was born, to be sure the babe was cared for. And he did for many years. He'd told me that she was a sweet little female, beloved by her mother and sister. And even when the man of her house threw the mother out, the girl was watched over by the sister and still provided for by the man, who was not truly her father."

She sobbed and dropped the leg of rabbit. I leaned across the space and handed her a handkerchief. She took it, sniffling softly, and wiped her face.

"My father told me all of this on his own deathbed just under a year ago, and he passed his vow onto me. Made me swear I would protect the female wherever she was in the world. For he'd lost track of her when her clan had left Myrkovir Forest to avoid the war. Then he became too ill to find her." That familiar well of knowing pulsed through my veins, that she—above all other duties and destinies—was the most important of them all. "To find you."

She sucked in a deep breath, wiping her face again, my heart aching to console her in some way. But I didn't move.

"And so," she began in a trembling voice, "the burden became yours to watch over me."

The pain in her voice and expression was as cutting as a sharp blade sliding deep. "Murgha"—I pulled her glassy gaze to mine—"it is not a burden for me."

If she knew what I'd realized in the past few hours, she'd likely want to run from me. But there was no return from the truth that had pounded itself into my flesh and bones the second I saw her standing in that tavern, awaiting her fate to be gambled away.

The thought of what her so-called father had done burned new fury through me, but I'd made it there in time. Thank the gods.

I remained silent, letting her absorb what I was telling her. I was expecting at least another hour of tears, but she suddenly made a growling sound of frustration and threw down the handkerchief. "What is it exactly that you are planning to do with me? Because Gwenda said I was going to live in your villa in the mountains. And I'm not ."

"You'd rather go back to the innkeeper's care and be sold at his next game of Kings and Bones?"

"Well, I'm not going to go from being his servant to being yours."

"I don't expect you to be my servant." I expected her to be something far more precious.

She stood and paced but couldn't go far in our limited space. Finally, she stopped and crossed her arms on a thick branch, and stared through the leaves at the night sky.

When she spoke, her voice was less accusatory, though frustration radiated from her. "If I was an outcast among the light fae, I'll be a complete pariah among the shadow fae."

The fact the she was even considering living among my people eased the tension tightening my chest. "No one will ever say a word against you, I can promise you that. Also, I live outside the city in a quiet home. My mother lives with me, but she knows about you and is anxious to meet you."

This had her finally turning to look at me, brows lifted in question. "Your mother knows?"

"Of course. She and my father were true mates. They told each other everything."

As true mates should.

She turned back toward the night. "My sister told me that our mother would often leave for a few days at a time when I was young. She'd go to sell herbs and medicine to the next village. But she was often gone much longer than she should be. That was when Papa had kicked her out, thinking she was off sleeping with other men or some nonsense. She wasn't doing that," she snapped vehemently, as if I might argue against her. "At least, I don't think she was unfaithful to Papa after I was born." She shrugged. "I have a knowing about things sometimes."

"No, Murgha. She wasn't."

The finality in my tone must've caught her attention. She turned to face me.

"Do you know what happened to my mother?"

"She went in search of your father. Myrkovir Forest isn't far from Issos. Two days' walk, or one day if she caught a ride by carriage."

"How could you possibly know this?"

"After my father died, I traveled to Issos and discovered your mother had tried to find her mate many times after you were born. He'd disappeared, and she feared the worst."

"For good reason."

I dipped my chin in agreement. "When the innkeeper made her leave, she went to Issos and discovered the truth. She lived there for many years, working for an apothecary."

"She is dead?"

"Yes," I told her honestly. "The apothecary fell ill with the Paviana Plague. Apparently, she nursed him, but contracted it as well. They both died within a year, the locals told me."

She gulped hard, dipping her chin. "I knew she had died. Somehow." She sighed. "The plague," she repeated on a whisper. "None of our clan has been infected, but I hear it is a sad wasting disease, stealing one's magick first."

"That is true. That sickness has not infected any of the shadow fae either." Though there is another that was far worse taking hold.

"So she died alone." Another tear slid down her cheek. "My poor mother."

"From what the locals told me, she did not suffer. And she was well-respected by all who knew her. She was given good care by the neighbors until the end."

"I don't know how I knew she was dead. But hearing it hurts more."

"I understand. I'm sorry."

She kept quiet for a while, weeping silently. I forced myself to remain rigidly on my side, letting her have a moment to process this news and grieve privately. After a while, she looked at me carefully, her gaze lingering on my wings so long that I cleared my throat to get her attention.

A flush of pink warmed her cheeks, but then she asked boldly, "How did you get into Issos?" She waved a hand at my wings. "There is no way you simply flew into the city and people answered a shadow fae priest's questions."

I smiled. "You're right. They'd never answer a shadow fae. But they would answer a noble Issosian's questions, especially one who dropped a few coins in their pockets."

She scoffed in disbelief, and I was grateful her tears had dried, even if her sadness lingered in the pinched lines around her eyes. "I don't understand."

"Do you know anything about the shadow fae?"

"Only what I've heard. That you're the demons of the sky, enemies to all other fae, killers to all."

I couldn't help but laugh because she was actually serious. "Just because we prefer to live isolated from other fae doesn't make us enemies. And we don't indiscriminately kill others." I sobered. "But we are territorial. We don't like anyone on our mountain."

For their own protection more than anything else.

"None of this explains how you got into Issos without alerting the palace guard and stirring a bee's nest of trouble."

I stood and pulled the rest of the roasted hare from the spit. "Are you still hungry?"

"No, and you're avoiding the question."

I pulled off one last piece and ate it, wondering if I should save it for breakfast. No.

She needed a proper meal in the morning. I threw the remains of the hare out into the night, hearing it break twigs on the way down.

"Vallon."

Her use of my name jarred me. I turned to find her standing only a few feet away. Entranced for a moment by the way the blue light caressed her pretty features, I finally said, "I'm a novgala."

"And what is that?"

"It's probably easier to show you."

"Then show me," she demanded.

For a female who'd been raised to believe she was less than and forced to serve a father who didn't treat her with an ounce of care or love, she was strong-willed and demanding in what she wanted. I liked it. Very much.

She needed to be both of those things if she were to be mine. And she would be.