Chapter 14

I hastily pull on a simple wrap dress. It was waiting for me on the edge of the bed once I returned from the bathroom, and I assumed Vaeril had put it out for me. I hadn't paid attention to it at all as I pulled it on, but now as I look in the mirror, my heart clenches painfully as I see what I'm wearing. It's a deep forest green colour and dotted with small golden glittering leaves.

"That's a beautiful gift," Vaeril remarks from the other side of the room, trying to lift my spirits and confirming my suspicions all in one. Closing my eyes tightly, I take a deep breath. The wood elves gifted me with this, claiming me as one of their own just as I have to leave them. Vaeril must feel my grief through our bond, because he comes over to me and pulls me against his chest. "We will return, this isn't goodbye forever," he whispers, but he can't promise me that. The queen has declared me a traitor to her people, and that includes the wood elves.

"We need to leave quickly," I say, changing the subject. Pulling away from his embrace, I glance over and see my bag is packed and ready to go. Vaeril is wearing his travel clothing, and I so desperately want to just stay here in his arms and trace the mark on his neck, my mating instincts pushing at me. However, the dread and nausea from Naril's words override it.

Looking solemn, Vaeril nods his head. "I know. Are you ready?"

I hum my assent and walk through the house and straight out to the platform it's built on, not looking back. I make my way down the twisting staircase built into the tree, my eyes widening as I reach the bottom and see the small group of people waiting for me.

Naril is standing with Speaker Hawthorn and the female speaker with the delicate antlers. There are a couple of elves tying wrapped packages to the horses' saddles behind them, but it's the person at the front talking with the speakers who makes me freeze in place.

"Tor?" The tribesman instantly looks up, his eyes locking onto me. Striding forward, he pulls me into his arms, wrapping them around me tightly. I inhale his fresh scent and return his embrace, not realising how worried I was about him until I saw him.

The sound of something hitting the ground sounds behind me, but I'm so focused on the feeling of Tor's arms around me that I don't bother to see what caused it, although I have a theory. Vaeril mutters something under his breath in elvish, and I don't need to know the language to understand he's not happy. There's some movement around us, soft voices, and the whickering of the horses, but right now, my whole focus has narrowed to the tribesman in my arms. When Naril spoke of a slaughter at Galandell, my first fear was that Tor had been hurt. I have no idea how he got here, and I have so many questions, but every time I try to speak, my mouth dries up.

There's a snicker, and as I lift my head, I see Naril stalking closer. "Oh, yeah, I probably should have mentioned he was here," he drawls, and I bare my teeth at him in a snarl. This seems to take him aback, and as he glances over my shoulder, something in his expression changes. He's still grinning, but it looks forced now, his eyes wary. "Clarissa," he murmurs, as those gathered nearby now watch with a mixture of worried expressions. What's happened in the last thirty seconds that's causing them to worry? "Step away from the mountain man and go touch your mate," Naril suggests, gesturing behind me.

Comprehension hits me, and I feel like an idiot. I've completely pushed the bond with Vaeril aside, focusing only on Tor. My need to make sure he was okay overrode the feelings from my other connections. They warned me that all feelings would be amplified and that we would both feel particularly territorial to start with, and I'd completely forgotten that as soon as my eyes had landed on Tor. Turning, I face my new mate, and I instantly feel awful. He's practically shaking as he watches me with Tor, his hands balled up into firsts, and I know he's trying really hard to battle his instincts. Now that I'm aware of it, I can feel him down the bond, how strong his need is to push Tor away from me, to hold me, to touch me. Usually, I would tell him to stop being a territorial fae, but I can see how hard he is trying for me, that he's fighting who he is for me . How would I feel if another female touched Vaeril? Fierce, fiery rage floods my system. The onlooking speakers all take a step back, giving us more space, and I realise then that I'm snarling, and their startled, wary expressions are because of me. Breathing deeply, I straighten and take a few steps towards Vaeril, who's watching me with an intense expression.

"He looks like he's about to implode," Naril helpfully notes, looking less tense now that I'm at Vaeril's side.

Stopping in front of Vaeril, I reach up and place my hand against his cheek. His body instantly relaxes at my touch as he nuzzles his face against my hand, pulling me closer. Resting his chin on top of my head, he takes a deep breath, inhaling my scent as the tension leaves his body. I won't admit it, but being here in his arms settles something inside me, and I wish that was enough, but I can't deny the pull that's calling me to Tor.

"So you finally did it then?" Tor asks lightly, as if he can hear my thoughts. Vaeril's arms tighten around me as I glance at the tribesman. I don't try to move away, knowing that would only escalate the situation, and instead, I rub small, soothing circles into Vaeril's back with my hand.

"Yes, she's mine now," Vaeril replies, a low purring noise starting up in his chest. He's just answering the question, confirming that we did finally seal the bond, but the way he says it makes it sound more like a challenge. Tor stiffens, and I watch as his hands clench and unclench. My heart speeds up as Vaeril shifts his weight, preparing to fight as his instincts push him to protect what is his. Vaeril promised he would try, but within the first ten minutes of being together, they are already on the verge of fighting.

Is this what it's always going to be like? A constant battle and one-upmanship? Am I asking for too much? My thoughts spiral, falling into despair. Vaeril seems to feel my shift in mood and glances down at me, a frown pulling at his brow. Someone clears their throat, and I glance up to see Tor smiling.

"Probably a good thing I know how to share then, isn't it?" Tor comments, shrugging his shoulders. The tension lifts, and I take a deep, relieved breath, sending Tor a grateful look.

Turning back to Vaeril, I see his apologetic expression and smile up at him. I was going to ask if he was okay now, if he had everything under control, but seeing him like this and feeling his regret through the bond, I realise he's doing his best. I take his hand in mine as I pull away before turning to face those gathered around us. Tor is watching us with a neutral expression, and I want to speak to him, to find out how he's feeling, but there are far more important things to discuss. "What happened in Galandell?" Now that I know he's safe, I fear for others. What of Eldrin and Master Ardeth? And my friends in the guard, Kaelir and Elier?

"It happened so fast," he starts, shaking his head as he tries to put his thoughts in order. "I was in the atrium with the queen, and all of a sudden, everyone was shouting and running around. The queen seemed to be the only calm one, so I followed her to the entrance of the palace," he recalls, and I have to push down my irrational jealousy that he was with the queen, trying to focus on the rest of his story. "That's when I saw elves attacking the guards."

The speakers start muttering between themselves, their expression of surprise and shock obvious. Vaeril and Naril are sharing looks of concern, but they don't seem hugely surprised by this.

"Rebels?" Naril asks the tribesman with a look of contemplation. Recalling previous conversations with the elf, I remember mentions of rebels and problems they'd been having at the borders of Galandell. Problems the queen blames me for. Is this my fault?

"I don't know," Tor answers with a frown. "They were wearing palace uniforms and…they looked different, strange." The way he says this makes me shudder, and I know the others are thinking the same thing I am.

"The forsaken?" Speaker Hawthorn queries tentatively, like he doesn't want the answer to his question. The expressions on Naril's and Vaeril's faces tell me everything I need to know—they believe the forsaken were involved in this attack.

"I don't know much about your forsaken," Tor says, glancing over at the speaker, "but something other was happening." His emphasis on the word ‘other' makes me think he means something different. "I don't think the queen realised I had followed her, she was so focused on the fighting. That's when I noticed the guards were fighting those wearing castle uniforms, some of them were even wearing guard uniforms, yet they were attacking us." I hear his confusion as he explains, and I shudder at how close he must have been to the battle.

"Something was different about them, and when I reached the queen, I could see she was smiling." Nausea churns my stomach. I can imagine the queen's smirking face perfectly as her people fall and she does nothing but watch. My dislike for her morphs into hatred, bubbling hot within me. "I knew then that something was wrong," he continues. "So I turned to leave. As I was departing, I heard her give an order to one of the guards." He turns his attention to me now, and I know exactly what he's going to say. "She said Clarissa was behind the attack and was a traitor to the elves. She's to be captured and executed, and anyone who aids her in her escape will share the same fate."

Dread fills me, and anxiety claws at my throat over how the elves are going to take this. I've been declared their enemy. Best case scenario, they ignore the order to try and capture me and allow me to escape, but this would only result in them sharing my demise. I could never live with that. They could detain me and send me back to the queen where I have no doubt she would kill me. Being mated to Vaeril is no longer enough protection from her. My companions would never allow them to capture me, which means we would have to fight them, which is something I don't think I can do. They accept me for who I am here, they've offered me a home, and this is the closest thing I've ever felt to a family. Having to leave all that behind… It would have been better never to have experienced it, rather than getting a taste of it just to have it torn away , I lament. I glance at Vaeril, who's watching me with a concerned expression. No, I'm glad I got to experience this, however briefly.

Bracing myself, I turn and look at the gathered wood elves. Seeing their expressions, my stomach flips as fear, excitement, and grief wars within me. They don't look surprised at the news, in fact they look eager. Speaker Hawthorn glances at his companions, who just nod at his silent question, and takes a step towards me. "We will help you, Clarissa. We've known something was wrong with the queen for a long while, this has just confirmed it for us." His voice is strong and sure, and it breaks my heart.

Speaker Fawne takes a few delicate steps until she's standing at Speaker Hawthorn's side. "We will stand with you."

Looking between them in horror, I feel bile rise in my throat as they speak. "I'm not going to fight her," I blurt, completely aghast. "And there is no way I would put you in danger by asking that of you." Shaking my head, I feel Vaeril squeeze my hand in support. I close my eyes and use our connection to help ground me, breathing in and out to try and stay calm. I know I'm going to have to leave, I won't put them at risk, but I need to go somewhere while I figure out what I'm going to do next.

"That's exactly why, Clarissa," Speaker Hawthorn tells me, and as I open my eyes, I see he's taken a couple of steps towards me. "You would never ask us to put ourselves at risk because of you, and that is one of the reasons we will stand with you."

"Why?" Disbelief makes my voice high and tight, but I just don't understand why they would do this for me. They've known me for a couple of days, and they would put everything they have here at risk because of me.

"You're one of us," Speaker Fawne declares, and she says it as if it's the simplest answer in the world.

I continue to stare at them, my mind swirling as I try to decide how to respond. Of course I could never accept their offer, and I'm not about to declare war on the queen anyway. Searching for the Great Mother's influence, I pray that she guides me, that she tells me what she needs me to do, but I only feel a light tingle on my wrist. The speakers' eyes widen as my wrist glows softly, and they mutter something that sounds like praise in elvish.

"You're leaving us," Speaker Hawthorn says, his words a statement, but I nod my anyway. He smiles softly at me. "I sensed that you would be leaving us, I just hadn't realised it would be so soon," he remarks, and I remember our conversation last night. He predicted I'd leave, and I wonder if this is a sign from the Mother and the confirmation I need that I'm doing the right thing.

"Yes. I won't bring my conflict with the queen to you," I insist, feeling surer now as I glance over at Vaeril, who is by my side. The corner of his lips twitches up into a smile as he squeezes my hand again. Naril nods as if he was expecting this response before walking over to inspect the horses. "I just wish I knew where to go."

"Clarissa, there is more I have to tell you," Tor interjects, his face somber.

Naril groans, and I echo the feeling. Can I cope with any more bad news?

Tor steps closer and takes a deep breath. "There is no easy way for me to say this, and I don't have time to sugar-coat it," he says, his expression sympathetic. I brace myself. "Your aunt is alive, and she wants to meet you." That was not what I was expecting, and from the startled look on Vaeril's face, neither was he. My aunt. How? And why is he telling me this now?

Seeing my confusion, he moves closer, taking hold of my free hand. "She's staying with my tribe at the moment," he explains. "Come with me to my people, we have the answers you're looking for. You will be safe with us while you decide what your next move is," he promises, his words earnest.

"My aunt? How…?" I trail off. "Why are you telling me this now? Why didn't you tell me any of this before? How could you keep something like that from me when you know I've been searching for information about my past?" I exclaim, my frustration and fear manifesting as anger, anger that I'm taking out on him. "How can I trust you when you would keep something like this from me?"

"Clarissa, this isn't really the time," Naril calls out, frowning at the change of topic, and I understand. I should be thinking about our escape, about where we're going to go to elude the reach of the queen, but I just can't, my hurt clouding my mind.

"Naril," Vaeril says, shaking his head. The other elf just throws his hands up in the air in frustration.

"Clarissa, I wanted to tell you," Tor insists, his hold on my hand tightening as he tries to get me to meet his gaze, but I just can't. My eyes sting with tears I refuse to shed.

"Remember I told you before I took a magical oath? That I can only tell you when the time is right?" he prompts, and I nod slowly, remembering he tried to tell me something a couple of times but couldn't. "That time is now. You need to come with me." He sounds so sure that I look at him, raising my eyes to meet his. I let him see my hurt, not hiding my feelings, and he flinches, but he doesn't pull away.

"How do you know?" My voice is steadier than I feel, and I'm grateful for that.

"The goddess tells me so," he replies, nodding his head as my eyebrows rise in surprise. I don't know much about the gods and goddesses of the mountain tribes, but I'm fairly certain we worship the same goddess. They call her something different and worship additional gods, but the Great Mother is something that connects the tribes to the humans.

"Will we be safe there?" Vaeril inquires, pulling Tor's piercing gaze from me. "Where Clarissa goes, so do we," he states, gesturing towards Naril and himself.

"Yes, they are expecting us." The tribesman nods.

There's a pause as Vaeril considers what's been said. I can feel his annoyance at Tor for upsetting me, but he also agrees that going into the mountains would be one of the safest places for us right now. I hadn't even thought that far ahead, but I realise he's right. Looking at me, he asks me a question down the bond. Do we trust him? I know the answer instantly and nod my head once.

"Fine, let's go," Vaeril agrees, squeezing my hand once before stalking over to Naril, who is waiting by the horses, giving me a chance to talk to the speakers alone. Tor seems to realise the same thing and strides over to join the elves getting ready for our departure.

"Tor," Naril calls. "Did you see my brother before you left?" I glance over to try and catch Tor's answer, but the look on his face is answer enough.

With a sigh, I turn back to the speaker.

"Speaker Hawthorn—"

"When the queen comes, we will say you left before we heard the order to detain you. We won't tell her where you went, or that the tribesman came to warn you," he promises, cutting me off before I can begin. "If you ever need us, you know where we are. We are family, after all." He gives me a large smile before reaching out and wrapping his arms around me in a hug.

Stunned, I return his embrace. "We're related?" I ask, as I pull back from his hold.

"Not genetically, but all wood elves are family, no matter where they are in the world. You will always have a place here." His hands rest on my shoulders as he looks over me with a gleam in his eyes. "Jaonos would have been so proud of you." His breath hitches, and I feel like I've been punched in the stomach.

Tears well in my eyes, but I have to hold it together. Taking a deep breath, I nod, not trusting my voice. Vaeril's been watching from afar, but he returns to my side and offers me his arm without a word and leads me over to one of the horses. Naril and Tor are already mounted, our belongings strapped to the back of the saddles. Putting his hands together, Vaeril boost me up and into the saddle. His hand lands on my leg, and as I look down, I see he's staring up at me with an odd expression on his face.

"You're doing the right thing. None of this is your fault," he assures me, squeezing my knee before walking around to mount his own horse.

Now that everyone is ready, they all turn to look at me with expectant expressions. Since when did they look to me for direction? Don't they know I don't have a clue what I'm doing? With a lump in my throat, I just nod my head, and as one, we start moving forward. As we amble through the forest, elves leave their houses and watch us from the platforms. A couple wave, but the atmosphere is somber, like they know I won't return for some time. I should wave back, I should be thanking them and calling out as I pass, but I can't. I just feel guilty that I'm bringing trouble into their peaceful lives. Speaker Hawthorn's eyes are heavy on my back, but I don't turn around, I don't look back. I can't, because I know I'll fall apart.

So, in silence, we leave the wood elves' village and head deeper into the forest.

We travel for hours, only stopping a handful of times to relieve ourselves and let the horses drink and rest. Standing by my horse's side, I stroke her neck as the others stretch their legs, talking to her softly in a low voice. I'm sure she can understand me from the intelligence in her eyes and the way she bobs her head as I speak, as if nodding in agreement. A soft noise catches my attention, followed by a flash of movement deeper in the forest. Frowning, I step around my horse and move to the edge of the trail we're following, peering into the darkness of the thick forest. A small flash of light blinks, and I know it means me no harm. I don't know how I know this, but deep down, there's a feeling of rightness. I'm supposed to be here.

Hearing the sound again, I realise it's a woman's voice. She uses a language I don't understand, but it's achingly beautiful as she sings, her voice calling to me. Without saying anything to the others, I step off the trail and follow the voice, venturing deeper and deeper into the forest. She sings of loss, I'm sure of it. The raw pain in her voice is obvious, no matter the language she speaks. Tears roll down my cheeks as my heart breaks for the mysterious woman.

Reaching a small clearing, I stop by one of the outer trees and peer into the open space. Now that I'm closer, I can hear other, smaller voices joining the first, and a smile comes to my lips as their song brings joy to my heart.

"Clarissa?" Vaeril calls, but he sounds far away. I don't want to speak in case I scare off whoever is singing, so I stay silent. Besides, I didn't stray far from the path, they'll find me soon if they look hard enough.

"Clarissa!" Tor's voice joins in, loud and urgent. Frustration rises within me. If they keep going, they're going to startle the fae. Closing my eyes, I reach for the bond between Vaeril and myself, sending a quick blast of my feelings towards him. I'm safe, I'm here , I think over and over, picturing the clearing. Vaeril mutters something to the others, but he's too far away for me to hear what he's saying, then I hear them slowly making their way towards me.

Happy that they're being quiet, I open my eyes and step out from behind the tree and into the clearing. There's a fae sitting by a pond, and I realise she's the one who's singing. Her legs dip into the pool, making gentle swirling patterns on the surface of the water with her feet. She's leaning against a tree and has to be one of the most beautiful creatures I've ever seen. At first glance, she looks like an elf with her pointed ears and delicate features. Completely naked, her long curling brown hair tumbles over her body, covering her ample breasts. She shifts forward, and I realise she's not leaning against the tree, she is part of the tree, the bark growing over her shoulders and curling around her stomach possessively. Is she like the wood elves who have become one with nature?

Dancing around the pond and joining in with the song are fae creatures of different races—pixies, imps, and creatures I've never seen before, their gossamer wings glinting in the glittering sunlight that reaches through the canopy.

"She's through here," Vaeril whispers, but the creature hears, and her eyes snap up to mine. A wave of magic unlike anything I've ever felt before washes over me, and I hear grunts of pain behind me from my companions.

Our eyes lock, and I realise this being isn't an elf, she is something far more powerful than that. There's a rage in her eyes that's terrifying, and I know she could kill me with a snap of her long, willowy fingers. She's still singing, but the song has changed now. It feels dangerous, like she's a predator stalking her prey, and I happen to be that prey.

Glancing around the clearing, I realise things have changed. The expressions on the dancing fae aren't the happy gleeful ones from before, but pained and fearful. The once brightly lit area is darker now, like a cloud has passed over the sun, and as I glance down into the pond, I see two red, glowing, furious eyes. Magic hums around me, and I want to back away, but I suspect I won't be able to. However, there is no way I'm turning my back on this creature. Reaching behind me, I brush my fingers against a barrier that hadn't been there previously. The creature tilts her head to one side, watching me with a curious expression, as if I'm not what she was expecting.

The singing stops, and the dancing fae fall to the ground as if exhausted.

" Alina ," she whispers, using Vaeril's elvish name for me. Her voice is old and unlike anything I've ever heard before, like joy, despair, and hatred all rolled into one. Now that the singing has stopped, my head clears, and the happiness I felt from her song fades away, leaving me only with weariness. The silence in the clearing is almost deafening, and I shift from foot to foot, realising that, for some reason, she's called me here.

"I knew you would come." Her face is completely neutral, except for the rage in those burning eyes. It's difficult to describe what they look like, their depths constantly shifting, and I fear that if I was to stare into them for too long, I would lose myself. As she speaks, I realise with a shudder that her teeth are all sharp and pointed.

Taking a deep breath, I try to calm my thoughts. "Who are you?"

The corner of her perfect lips twitch into a semblance of a smile, as if something I said amused her, but they quickly return back a neutral line. "The mortal tongue is unable to pronounce my true name, but most call me the forest witch."

Something about what she says makes me frown. I know what it's like not to have a name. "What would you like me to call you?"

She pauses, her feet stilling in the pond, and I realise I've surprised her. After a second, her feet begin the slow swirling of the water again, and her eyes flicker. "No one has ever asked me that before." She stares at me, and a wave of her magic rolls over me. I should be worried, this creature is obviously dangerous, especially if the fear coming down the bond from Vaeril is anything to go by. I understand all that, and I am cautious, but I don't think she means to hurt me. "Come closer, child," she calls, and there's no room for argument. Her magic is infused into her words, and I can feel my legs start to move without my consent.

"Clarissa, don't!" Vaeril shouts, panic making his voice tight, but I don't have a choice with her magic weaving around me.

The forest witch is looking away from me now, staring over my shoulder to where I presume Vaeril is behind the magical barrier. She chuckles, and it's like the sound of two boulders being crushed together, making the hair on my arms stand on end. "Your mate is wise to fear me, but I won't harm you," she promises, her eyes back on me, making a trickle of fear run down my spine. "Not when you will be our salvation."

There's that statement again. Why does everyone keep saying that, and how can they be so sure? It's like everyone has been brought in on a secret I've been completely oblivious to, and I'm only just finding out now. I feel like I'm drowning.

"I can feel your fears and doubts, but you are stronger than you realise." There's a pause as she passes her eyes over me again, and I can sense something like excitement in the air. "Come," she commands, but there's something different about how she says it, like she's expecting something from me.

That's when I feel it—a choice. Her magic continues to buzz over me like a net, trying to convince my legs to move, to follow her order, but I can almost feel a…hole. A hole in her magic. When I've broken spells before, I've always had to touch them, and most of the time it was accidental. One of the only times I purposely broke a spell was on Vaeril's magical cuffs, and that had taken almost all of my energy to do so. This spell is different. It consumes me, and it isn't focused on any one particular place like the spells in the cuffs or walls around the city, so I can't just lay my hands on it. Closing my eyes, I extend my senses until I can almost see the magic in my mind. Focusing on the hole, I force my intent at it, willing it to open, to break. I distantly hear male voices calling my name and feel a drop of sweat rolling down my forehead, but I know if I take my attention away that the magic will ensnare me once more and I won't have this opportunity again. My anger drives me, anger that this creature is using her magic to force me when she promised to do me no harm, separated me from my mates, and caused them distress.

With a roar, I shove my will at the hole in her magic and feel it fracture around me. Abrupt silence fills the clearing, and my body stills. Opening my eyes, I immediately look at the creature, expecting her to be furious that I've broken past her magic. Except her expression throws me off. She's smiling. Quiet footsteps sound behind me, making me startle and spin around, only to find Vaeril and Tor moving slowly towards me. The creatures on the ground start to groan, sitting upright and looking around with fearful expressions. As they stagger away, my eyes widen as I realise what I've done. I didn't just break her spell on me, but all of her spells in the clearing.

Mother above , I pray, glancing down at my hands in a mixture of fear and wonderment. Vaeril's palm lands on my lower back, and I instantly feel more grounded. When Tor appears at my other side, I feel like I can breathe again, and together, we turn to face the forest witch. I'm exhausted, but I can't rest now, this isn't over.

She's watching me with a satisfied smile, and I realise it had been a test, one I appear to have passed. Although she appears content now, there had been an element of shock too. I felt it in her magic the second before it all unravelled, she had been shocked by how strong I was. Or, as I realise now, that I had been able to break all of her spells in one go and without meaning to. "You are strong, but you let your insecurities get in the way. They stop you. You need to embrace who you were born to be," she tells me, opening her arms wide as if to show what I could become if only I embraced my fate.

Shuddering, I step back into the arms of my mates. Who am I supposed to be? I wish I had the answer to that question, and it's one that haunts me. The more I learn about myself, the more questions I have. One thing I know is that power corrupts—the human king, the elf queen, and this creature… I don't want to be anything like them.

Like she can sense my confusion, she leans forward, her eyes alight with that fiery rage. "Use your anger and hatred," she instructs, and I can't deny that she calls to a part of me, that furious, angry side of me that's bitter from each time I was beaten and mistreated. "Show everyone who ever hurt you just how powerful you are." Her words are hypnotic, and I know if it wasn't for Tor and Vaeril, I would be agreeing with her, putty in her hands. "You could burn this whole world to the ground," she whispers, her manic smile revealing those sharp, pointed teeth.

"I don't want to burn the world to the ground," I respond, but even to my ears, the words sound flat.

Raising one perfect eyebrow, the creature sits back. "You don't want to get your revenge?" she queries, before laughing her odd, grinding laugh once again. "Don't lie to me, girl, I know about your past, I know what they did to you. I know about the anger that burns deep down inside you."

Of course I want my revenge, I'm only human, or at least part human. I thought I'd accepted my fate in the twelve years I was a slave, when I was treated like dirt and had less rights than animals. But really, I had just been pushing all of that anger deep down inside me, and now that I'm free? That anger wants to make itself known, and if I'm honest with myself, it scares me. I'm terrified it will consume me and that I will become just as bad as those who caused me so much pain and suffering in the first place.

"What about all the innocents?" I finally manage, my voice breaking. "So many would get caught in the crossfire." Images flash through my mind—Jayne, Wilson, Aileen, Elier, Kaelir, the sea elf who I helped back at Galandell, and all the nameless slaves in Arhaven. They are the reason I need to keep that anger contained. They are the innocents who don't deserve to be hurt in all this.

"There are always innocent casualties in war," the forest witch replies sagely with a shrug of her delicate shoulders.

"War." The word hits me like a physical blow. My chest is tight. Feeling Tor's hand tighten on my shoulder, I glance at him and realise I was about to step forward, to get closer to the creature. Looking back at her, I can't hide the sorrow in my voice. "Is that what this is all leading to?"

Her expression changes now, and that worries me more than anything. "I think you know the answer to that already, Alina ." There's a pause as she watches me, then something changes. "You need to leave now," she orders, her body seeming to grow as she shifts forward, her smile returning, but it's got a hungry glint to it. "You have a long journey ahead of you, and I need to hunt. Thanks to you, I have lost my evening meal."

The dancing fae. They must have been her…meal. I remember how I had been drawn to her when she was singing, and how the fae had been dancing around her, her magic forcing them to do her bidding. Tor and Vaeril start to slowly back away, and I begin to follow, but something shifts in the pond at the creature's feet.

A kelpie. It looks different than the ones I met in the lake by Galandell. This one is darker in colour, more of a murky green, and as he rises out of the water, he looks too large to fit in the pool. One thing that is the same, though, is the fury in its eyes.

"Clarissa!" I hear Naril call out. It's the first time I've heard him speak since I left the path, but I realise he must have been watching from beyond the barrier.

The kelpie's ears flatten against his head as he turns to glare at Naril, baring his teeth as he roars at him, the sound more like something I would expect from a dragon than a water creature. I don't take my eyes from the kelpie, but I assume that Naril stops because the creature turns his attention back to me.

"The kelpie won't hurt her," Vaeril assures him quietly.

As I step forward towards the creature, I wish I was as confident as Vaeril was. The kelpie watches me, and I can feel his anger and hatred, but I keep going, lifting my hand. Stopping just a few paces from the edge of the pond, I am wholly aware of the fact he could easily grab me and drag me into the pool, pulling me to my watery grave. The forest witch is watching the whole exchange with interest, her eyes burning into my skin. Standing there, hand raised, I just wait, praying to the Mother that I'm not making a huge mistake. After what feels like a lifetime, the kelpie finally lowers his head and presses his forehead into my hand.

It's an odd feeling, like touching ice but without the cold seeping into my skin. Last time I communicated with a kelpie, it sent me pictures, images, but this time, I hear a voice very clearly in my mind. Don't forget your promise to my brother , he reminds me. He doesn't threaten me, he doesn't have to, I have a healthy enough fear of him as it is, of their endless hunger, but I know that if I was to go back on my word that I would pay for it. I remember the kelpie I met in the lake. He was separated from his family by a magical dam, and I promised I would try and find a way to free him.

The kelpie pulls away and stares down at me. Keeping my eyes locked with his, I nod my head one. "I haven't forgotten." This seems to be what he was waiting for, as he slowly sinks back into the water until only his red, glowing eyes are seen from the murky pond.

The forest witch chuckles, and the atmosphere in the clearing changes once again, our gazes all pulled back to her. We had been fools to look away and fear the kelpie. They are dangerous creatures, but we allowed it to distract us from the monster just paces away from us. Dread and fear flood my system as I watch the creature's beautiful face change into something horrific, her mouth opening into a huge maw with rows of gleaming teeth as she smiles at us. "You've been warned. I told you to leave, but you stayed." Her voice is different now, melodic despite the change in her appearance. "You should be safe, magic breaker." She licks her lips, her eyes flitting to the guys behind me. "But your mates might not be so fortunate."

"Run," I whisper, but I might as well have shouted given the reaction of my friends. The singing starts immediately, and she was right, it doesn't affect me now like it did before, now that I know how it works, but the same can't be said for the others. Naril and Vaeril are faster, but I see their bodies shudder and jerk as they fight against the magic. Vaeril glances over his shoulder at me, realising I'm farther behind. "Go!" I scream, needing him to be safe. He seems to be more immune than Naril, who is frozen to the spot, his body trembling. "Get Naril, get out of hearing range!" I demand, yanking at Tor's arm.

Turning to look at the tribesman, I see the pain on his face as he fights against the song. Each step he takes looks like he's pulling the weight of a mountain behind him. I suspect Vaeril is more immune to the witch's song thanks to his bond with me, but Tor and I have not completed that bond yet, so he doesn't have that benefit. "Tor," I call, my fear rising as I see his eyes go blank, his body straightening suddenly. "Tor! Look at me!" I shout, shaking his arms until I see the light return to his eyes, his focus and mind returning. Grabbing his hands, I place them over his ears. I know it won't stop the song, it's already in his head now, but it should help if I can get him farther away. Slowly, I drag him from the clearing and into the forest until I reach the main pathway.

"I'm okay now," he promises, standing straight as he lowers his hands, shaking his head. "What the hell was that?"

"A very old and powerful fae," Vaeril answers, and I spin in surprise, seeing him and Naril making their way towards us with the horses following behind. Relief floods my system as I run my eyes over the two of them. They both seem uninjured, but Naril looks away from me, not meeting my eyes, and I realise he's embarrassed.

"Let's get out of here," he mutters, and for once, I fully agree with him.