Chapter 3

Chapter 3

FEY

I t took Fey nearly three hours of strength training before she felt in control of herself again. Three hours to burn through the rage that threatened to consume her, bringing her body to the point of exhaustion. And only then did she stop. Only then did she trust herself to come back to her body and her own mind.

That white hot rage had finally dimmed, and though Fire still pulsed beneath her skin, it felt more like a dull ache, numbed by the pain in her muscles.

It was getting worse, she realized. The leash she used to hold her new powers in check was slipping more and more each day, and the tighter she gripped it, the harder it fought against her.

Day after day, Fey pushed that rage and pain down inside herself, using every ounce of restraint and power to keep it at bay. And day after day, it fought her, refusing to be tamed, refusing to be caged.

Let me out.

With a groan, Fey forced herself across the gym to where she’d stashed her bottle of water. She drank deep, desperate to quench her thirst.

She hadn’t bothered warming up. Hadn’t bothered easing into her workout, or even stopping by her sisters’ apartment to let Joy and Alice know she was here. She had just thrown herself into it, venting her frustrations and her anger on the heavy punching bag Alice had installed. That was a mistake, and her muscles would pay for it for over the next few days, but for now Fey felt blissfully drained.

For now, at least, she felt in control.

Somewhere in the building, her two remaining sisters were awake, preparing their midday meal. Drinking coffee and planning their day. Somewhere they were living their lives, each day taking them further from their past, blissfully in love. Happy.

Fey could join them now that she was more in control of her thoughts. She could stumble up the stairs to the home Joy and Alice shared and let herself be soothed by their company. By their love.

She wouldn’t, though. Not today. They were happy. They were moving on and moving forward.

Fey was the one still stuck in the past. She was the one trying to contain the monster inside of herself, the one still trapped in the memory of poor Willow’s death. And she didn’t want to bring them down with her. They were healing. And they deserved their happiness. They deserved to move on.

She didn’t want to see them. Didn’t want to remind them of their past and their sacrifices. Swallowing down her memories, Fey finished the last of her water and changed out of her exercise clothes. She had another idea. A better one.

She needed chocolate.

Regina’s Bakery was a staple of the Shifter neighborhood Fey now called home. For over twenty years, through feast and famine, it had endured. There had been times all too recently when food had been so scarce that Shifters were dying of starvation by the hundreds in the Eternal City. Times when Regina had only enough staples to sell basics like bread. But she had come into her shop every morning, making what she could and selling it at cost, trying to keep her people alive.

And now? Now Regina’s Bakery flourished.

The warm scent of oven-fresh bread hit Fey the moment she opened the door. A quick glance around revealed the store was empty, not a single other patron in sight.

Good , Fey thought. She preferred to do her shopping in peace, alone. And with her rage tugging on that leash, the fewer people she saw today, the better.

“One moment!” came a gruff voice from the back. Regina, taking advantage of the momentary lull in customers to get some more work done.

Fey didn’t waste time looking around at the general goods for sale in all corners of the shop. She went straight to the bakery case, peering through the glass at the pastries and sweets housed there. Fewer than usual, she noticed. In fact, the case had been steadily looking emptier and emptier in the last few months.

“Ah, it’s the Witch!” Regina said in greeting, emerging from the back of the shop and wiping her hands on the stained white apron she wore. Regina was an intimidating woman, in both stature and personality. She had the sand-colored eyes of all Lion Shifters, and though her hair was going silver with age, the white strands that peppered her golden blonde curls added a lovely shimmer that sparkled in the sunlight that drifted in through the windows.

“Morning, Regina,” Fey said, glancing up. When they’d moved into the neighborhood, Fey and her sisters had been the only Witches who’d shopped here. But times were changing—the city was changing—and Regina’s shop was quickly becoming one of the most popular bakeries in the district.

Still, Fey liked to think Regina still took special care of her and her sisters. A reward for being among the first of her Witch clients.

“This is morning to you, eh?” Regina scoffed, glancing pointedly at the clock on the wall. “Your Vampire is a bad influence on you. Up all night, sleeping during the day…” She shook her head disapprovingly, clicking her tongue.

“Well, it’s not like he has a choice, does he?” Fey answered with a smirk. Sun couldn’t kill a Vampire as powerful as Alastair, but it would probably hurt like hell. And even if it didn’t, with Alastair spending nights managing his nightclub and his days in bed with her, Fey wasn’t sure he’d change his hours even if he could .

“How’re your sisters, dear?” Regina asked, leaning on the glass counter. She towered above Fey, nearly six and a half feet of Lion trapped in a human body.

“They’re good,” Fey answered. “I just came from their place, actually. Alice converted one of the spare apartments to a gym.”

“And the little one? Joy?”

A grin twitched at the corners of Fey’s lips. Of course, to Regina, Joy would be the “little one.” She was half the Shifter’s size, though Fey would bet a fair amount of gold that Joy was twice as deadly, even considering Regina’s Lion form. Joy had been an unstoppable force before, but now that she could control three elements? Well, now she held an overwhelming amount of power in her small, delicate hands.

Would Regina still think of Joy as the little one if she knew it had been her hand that had brought down the old queen? Her blade of air that had taken Edelin’s head?

“Joy is… Joy.” Fey shrugged. “She’s happy. They’re happy.”

“Good,” Regina nodded. “So… what brings you in, hm? I’m running low on bread, so what’s in the case is all we have today. But I have some brownies in the oven right now if you’re looking for something sweet.”

Fey’s mouth watered. That’s exactly what she was looking for. “ Yes . Some brownies, please. And some of your famous pork buns, if you have any left.” Jasper had mentioned them in passing the last time she’d stopped by the club. Better than sex , he’d told her. And then with a wink and a wicked grin, he’d added, well, not the sort of sex I could give you .

Regina chuckled. “I have a few I don’t mind parting with, for you, Witch. Goddess knows my brother doesn’t need to eat so many.”

Regina gave her a rough grin before ducking into the back.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, love,” she called, her voice easily carrying across the small shop. “My last two shipments of flour were light—your sister on the council, Alice, maybe she could bring it up with them, yeah? Find out what’s going on with?—”

The bell above the door chimed, interrupting Regina and announcing another customer. Fey turned from the bakery case to watch them enter—a young couple with their child, maybe three years old. Witches, even. It warmed something in Fey’s chest to see it. With the establishment of the council, Alice insisted the city was slowly but surely becoming less segregated. And here was proof.

Fey tried to offer the couple a smile. But when the woman caught sight of her, she stopped in her tracks, gripping her child tight to her chest.

“The Queen…” she whispered, sounding dazed. The smile slipped from Fey’s face, and her lips curled into a sneer.

“No,” Fey said in a dark voice. That warmth in her chest didn’t die, but instead morphed into something hotter and more dangerous. “You’re mistaken.”

“It is you,” the Witch’s partner insisted, eyes going wide as he stepped forward. “You’re the Broken Blade. Our true queen.” He stared at her in awe, gaze roaming over her from the top of her blood-red hair all the way to her boots. And it didn’t matter that Fey wasn’t wearing her Queen’s Blades uniform—hadn’t worn it since that bloody night she’d overthrown her own queen—that’s what he was picturing when he looked at her.

It’s how they all pictured her.

“No,” Fey repeated, voice hardening. The heat in her chest grew a little more, threatening to become an inferno. She took a step away from them, wanting more space to find a semblance of calm, only to find the glass of the bakery counter against her back, trapping her there. “I’m not?—”

The man stepped forward. And with horror, Fey watched as he knelt, coming to one knee before her on the spotless floor of Regina’s shop.

“Your Grace,” he murmured in deference. At his side, his partner lowered her head and repeated the words, bowing slightly at her waist.

In an instance, that heat in Fey’s chest roared to life, threatening to overtake her.

LET ME OUT.

Fire. It feasted on her rage, happily licking against her skin from the inside. Fire danced at her fingers, Fire burned behind her eyes, and in her mind she no longer saw the family in front of her, she saw every Witch who had looked at her like that for the last two years all at once. Everyone who had called her queen , who called her “Your Grace,” and the Fire wanted out , wanted to destroy them all.

She could do it, Fey knew, feeling the flames lick over her skin and dance up her arm. She could take the whole shop down, and everyone in it. She could take down the whole damn block…

“That’s enough of all that!” Regina said, coming out from behind the counter, waving a flour-speckled dishcloth at the couple. Fey hadn’t noticed her return. She was lost in the flames, consumed by her rage.

Rising from his knees, the man frowned, confused, unaware of the offense he may have caused. Unaware of how close he was to death.

Let me out, the fire screamed inside of her, burning hotter and hotter and hotter.

And she wanted to. She wanted to let it out, wanted to let it take over her and give in to it.

This is why she held it so tight, why she pushed it down inside herself and leashed it. This is why she did everything she could to swallow this power down.

Because it felt so good to burn.

“We’re closed!” Regina snapped, shooing the couple out the door. “Closed for the day, out, out, out!”

The couple put up a minor protest but were no match for Regina’s sheer size and determination. She had them out the door in seconds, slamming it shut behind them and flipping the sign from open to closed .

“Take a deep breath,” Regina ordered, glancing back at Fey. She engaged the lock as well and pulled the blinds closed, hiding them from the busy street. “They’re gone, Witch. Take a breath and control yourself, damn you.”

But Fey couldn’t breathe. Rage swirled inside of her, hot and deadly as an inferno. It didn’t want to go back inside, didn’t want to be held back anymore.

Fey could take down the whole city with power like this, couldn’t she? Burn the whole damn realm to ashes, and there was nothing that could stop her. No one who could stop her.

Regina turned back to her, her eyes showing just a flash of fear before she swallowed it down and spoke. “Your bag, Fey. Look at your bag. ”

Through the haze of rage and pleasure, Fey glanced down, Fire flickering in her vision as it danced in her eyes, over her arms. The long-handled canvas bag she used to hold her shopping was gone. Only a scrap of fabric remained, still smoldering and charred at her feet. She opened her hand, where she had been clutching the handle, and found nothing there but ash.

Fire coated her hands. Bright blue and white flames danced over the skin of her palms, over her fingers.

It was beautiful.

“Breathe,” Regina snarled. Not the voice of the friendly shopkeeper Fey knew, but that of a Lioness. An apex predator accustomed to being obeyed.

Fey took a deep, shuddering breath and released it. The flames pulled back closer to her skin. She called Water, called Air, called Earth, she called everything inside of herself to push it down, down, down. Another deep, intentional breath and the flames were gone, pulled back inside her where her other powers lay.

Dormant, and waiting for her call.

Let me out , it purred, the demand barely more than a whisper under her skin. Suddenly the shop felt too cold, too still, and her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

“Are you alright?” Regina asked.

“No,” Fey said. She was exhausted from fighting herself, exhausted from the effort of holding back. “No, I’m not alright.”

She glanced around the shop, worried about the damage she may have done. But aside from the burnt wreckage of her bag, there was nothing.

Fey took a breath and counted to ten. Then, just to be sure, she did it again. Her muscles relaxed slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing. That blaze inside of her still waited, still wanted out, but it was manageable now. Contained.

“I’ll get a broom, and you can sweep that up,” Regina said, looking pointedly at the ash on her floor. Fey almost laughed. She’d had many reactions to her powers before—fear, distrust, even envy. But only Regina made her feel like a misbehaving child. “I’m sure I have another bag in the back you can have, no extra charge. ”

“I’m sorry,” Fey said, shaking her head. “I haven’t lost control like that for a while. It’s just…”

“I know,” Regina said. And maybe the Lioness was telling the truth. Maybe she knew a thing or two about losing control. About leashing a monster inside.

Regina ducked into the backroom and returned with a long-handled broom, handing it to Fey. Fey took a deep breath and started to sweep.

Regina watched her for a moment, the store silent but for the rhythmic sound of the broom against the shop floor, and then asked, sadly, “You’ve seen the posters?”

Fey’s jaw clenched. Two years ago, when the Queen had revealed Fey’s identity to the realm, she had blanketed the city with posters with Fey’s name and face, hoping to draw her out from wherever she was hiding.

But now, with the Queen dead, the posters that were being put up had a different message. They used the same image as before, but rather than listing her fabricated crimes, the posters said only three words, in big bold letters.

OUR TRUE QUEEN.

“Yeah,” Fey answered through clenched teeth, keeping her eyes on her sweeping and not looking up at Regina as she spoke. “I’ve seen the posters.”

In the beginning, Fey had paid little attention to the calls for her to take the throne. It was just a matter of time before another Witch with all four powers was discovered, she reasoned. If not in the city itself, then in one of the surrounding octants, surely. And then everyone would realize she wasn’t special, wasn’t chosen by the Goddess to rule.

But years passed. Thousands of young Witches came into their powers. Thousands more received the same antidote to Allium that had revealed Fey’s gifts.

And still Fey remained the only Witch in the realm besides the former princess who could control all four natural elements.

Over time, the whispers from her Faction grew. There was no need for a council when they had a queen who could lead them, people started to say. Wasn’t her existence enough to prove that the Goddess had blessed her to be queen? Hadn’t the Goddess herself sent Fey to put a stop to Queen Edelin’s horrors?

By the time the whispers grew to shouts and members of her Faction started to demand the council be dissolved and Fey be crowned queen, a fundamental shift had occurred in the Eternal City. A few weeks later, someone on the street knelt to her for the first time.

Fey had been forced to pay attention after that.

Fey knew she was no queen. She was a killer, raised on hate and violence and blood. She spent years honing her skills, years turning herself into a perfect monster. And no matter how much time she spent trying to cage that monster inside of herself, trying to be like every other Witch, it still fought to escape.

Goddess help her, she was trying. Trying to be the savior, trying to be the hero the realm saw in her. But no amount of twisting herself to fit the mold others made for her was going to change who she was. What she was.

By the time Fey finished cleaning the ash from the floor, Regina had packed her shopping into a new bag. She’d even slipped in an extra brownie, still warm from the oven.

Fey kept her head down when she left the shop, avoiding eye contact with the people she passed.

She tried to ignore the eyes that lingered on her, tried to ignore the murmurs, just as she tried to ignore the hum of Fire inside her that rose in response.

The Fire that wanted out .