Chapter 8

Eight

"All right," Vallon agreed.

Then he whispered a command in another language. Demon tongue. I'd heard a few wraith fae speak it at the Borderlands when I'd brought my herbs to sell.

He was summoning magick. I could feel it tighten the air around us, a prickling sensation raising gooseflesh on my skin. A whimper escaped my mouth as I hadn't expected the presence of magick like his to feel…pleasurable. It wrapped around me in a cocoon of warmth. Powerful energy sizzled through my body. No wood fae I knew possessed magick as strong as this.

I gasped as Vallon's features disappeared, his form replaced by an Issosian Guard with blond hair, violet eyes, and golden fae wings. I gasped and jumped back.

He grinned, but it wasn't Vallon's striking face that smiled. It was a stranger in the sapphire and gold armor of Issos.

"You can transform yourself," I breathed, taking a tentative step forward to peer closer.

"No. It is illusion only." Vallon's voice came from the Issosian's lips. "I'm not transformed. It is glamour."

I stared in astonishment, shaking my head. "It looks so real." I reached out my hand then drew it back.

"You can touch me. If you like."

Even in the guise of the guard, his gaze was intense and fixed on me. I reached up to the transparent upper wing over his left shoulder where I'd stitched his wound. But before my hand even landed on the fae wing, my fingertips bumped the rough hide of his dragon-like wing. I wrapped my fingers around the edge of bone, which was entirely invisible, like I was clutching onto air.

I laughed as I slid my palm up the invisible line of his wing. "It's remarkable."

He remained silent. But when I glanced up at him, I realized I was standing very close. His breathing was accelerated, but he was still as stone.

I was still holding onto his wing when the illusion melted away to reveal Vallon in all of his magnificence. I might've been terrified when I first saw him enter the inn, and even after when he chased me down and carried me away, but now I couldn't see anything but his masculine beauty—the deep cleft in his chin, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the softness of his mouth, the radiance of his crimson eyes that looked at me now as if he wanted to devour me.

"A novgala," he said in that low, deep timbre, "uses shadow and light to cast illusion."

"But your illusion looked real, not like simple shadows."

"I am a powerful novgala," he stated with cool confidence. "I can manipulate shadow and light to the most infinitesimal degree."

"Is this why you are high priest of your shadow fae clan?"

"One reason. Someone in my position needs many weapons in his arsenal."

"Why does a priest need weapons? What sort of priest are you exactly?"

He didn't answer, and I still had my hand wrapped around the upper bone of his wing. For some reason, I didn't want to let go. I wanted to hold onto him for forever. It was the strangest sensation, but it was a shockingly strong compulsion. To stay as near to him as I could.

"Is that how you won the game of kings and bones?" I asked, realizing he wasn't going to talk any more about being a priest. Not now anyway.

"Yes. Once we left, my illusion faded, and they could see the rodent skull was sitting on the outer edge of the board, and I hadn't won at all."

"So you won me with a lie."

"I won you with my magick. And if I hadn't, I would've still stolen you away, regardless." His red eyes darkened, his features drawing tight. "I would never have let that ambassador lay a filthy hand on you, Murgha. You are mine to protect."

For a breathless second, our gazes held. We were standing so close now I could feel his body heat. "Because of your vow to your father," I clarified softly.

He didn't agree or disagree. He simply stared at me with a feral intensity that had my heart rate tripping faster.

Finally, his gaze trailed up my arm where I was holding onto him. "I believe you should get some rest." His fangs seemed longer, sharper than before. "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

When I finally released him, he closed his eyes and took a step back. "You can sleep there." He pointed to the pile of hides and furs.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I'll keep watch."

While I was aware that my fear of him had vanished into thin air at some point tonight, he was still a large, virile male. Though it wouldn't do me much good if he wanted to harm me, I still wanted protection of some sort.

"I want my dagger," I told him with my palm outstretched.

Instantly, he reached back to his belt and pulled it out and handed it over, hilt first. The dagger was small in his palm, and I suddenly became fascinated by his long, clawed fingertips.

By the goddess, what was happening to me?

I took the dagger and slid it into my scabbard at my belt beneath the coat.

"I have something else," he said softly, opening a pouch on his wide belt. Then he pulled out the thin, gold necklace that was my mother's.

"My necklace," I breathed excitedly.

"Hold up your hair," he commanded. "I'll put it on for you."

I paused for a moment, then turned away from him and lifted my hair out of the way. His large hands came around my front, pulling the strands of the chain on both sides. It seemed remarkable how he was able to be so gentle with the delicate chain and clasp and not break it with his large hands.

One of his claws scraped lightly across my nape as he worked the clasp, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I apologize. Almost done."

The tremble I felt at his nearness, at his claw caressing my skin, had not been one of fear or pain. Quite the opposite.

"There," he said then stepped away.

I peered down at the moonstone I'd cherished so much. I had no idea he'd snatched it from the pile. I'd thought to never see it again.

"Thank you." I turned to find him seated with his back to the trunk of the wide tree, his wings spread, his booted feet crossed at the ankles. "This necklace is important to me," I admitted.

"I know." His eyes glittered by the blue coal-fire.

Without another word, I lay down on the makeshift bed, pulling one of the hides over me, facing away from him toward the fire and Gwenda, who was still sleeping soundly.

My mind rewound to the story of my mother. And my real father. The pain of their tragic tale sank deep. I blinked back the tears and closed my eyes, trying to imagine what it would've been like for my mother to find her true mate after she was already married.

The gods had a fate designed for everyone, if one believed in the gods. And I did.

I devoted myself to Elska, Goddess of the Wood. Though we had no temple in our new village since we'd left Myrkovir Forest, I still paid tribute to her with floral coronets of juniper and night phlox, believed to be her favorite flowers. I set them around the largest oak tree in the woods behind the house, creating my own temple for her. I prayed to her weekly, hoping for her blessings.

I'd once prayed for Mama to return, but then realized Tessa was all the family I needed. Then one night, Tessa went out to find medicine for father and never returned, so perhaps the goddess didn't care for me much.

Maybe I was to have a tragic end like my mother, destined to never find the correct path until it was too late. Never to have a mate as the half-breed pariah that I was.

"Your father loved your mother," came the velvet dark voice of the shadow fae. "And he loved you. Of that, you can be certain. The only reason he didn't take her away to Issos was because she told him she couldn't abandon your sister."

I believed him. But it didn't ease the sad ache blooming in my heart. It only made it spread wider, making me feel more alone than ever before.