Page 7 of Forgiving a Fae Warrior

From the corner of his eye, Galen saw Sylvie nod. The simple move bolstered his courage and gave his shaking legs strength to stand in the presence of two monarchs who both considered him a traitor.

“Don’t give them what they want,” Galen said. “It won’t help Wren.”

“So concerned about her now?” Sigurd mocked, each word filled with anger.

“Yes. She is my friend.” The truth of it spilled out without thought, though the word left a bitter taste on his tongue after what he’d done. “Let me help you save her. Please.”

Sigurd crossed his arms and stared him down, his eyes still glowing a bright blue. “And how will you do that?”

“I-I don’t know, but I will find a way.” He had to atone, to fix things the best he could. In his struggle to prove himself to the Court of the Forest he’d only done more damage, angering both courts and reigniting the threat of war. Even worse, he endangered his friend. She was that, he realized. He’d tried to deny it. It would be easier to part from her that way and to use her for his redemption. But the truth of it couldn’t be shut out anymore. Whether she’d consider him thus in the future was doubtful, but for a while there, a bond of trust and comradery had bloomed between them.

Sigurd turned to the fae of his court amassed behind him. “Search for my mate. Now. Leave nothing unchecked.” He returned his glowing gaze to Riven. “I trust you’ll do the same in your territory?” He stared the other king down in challenge.

“You know how I feel about the Unseelie,” Riven responded.

“Do I?” Sigurd cocked one brow.

Galen held his breath, praying for a cease-fire.

“We will search our territory,” Riven said at last.

A relieved breath slipped from Galen’s lungs, only to catch as Sigurd pointed a damning finger in his direction. “And you will expel this traitor you harbor.”

Riven’s gaze shifted to him, still cold and impassive. “My court nor I had any part in his plot and offer no sanctuary.”

Galen’s heart sank—dropped straight through his middle into the endless hole that opened up deep in his stomach. The king may as well have discarded him like dirt off his boots. It wasn’t death, but exile to the Unseelie lands could be just as bad…possibly worse. Outside the magic of the Seelie courts, he would weaken. His magic would slowly drain away until it was a husk of its former self, just like the Unseelie lands themselves.

A quick death, like he thought Sylvie about to deliver to him minutes ago, might have been preferable.

“If you let this traitor into your territory while Wren is missing, or if you keep any information about her from me, I’ll consider it an act of war,” Sigurd replied. Without waiting for a response, he bolted from the ground, spread his wings, and soared over the landscape, no doubt looking for Wren. The guards that had shifted in with him disbursed to carry out his orders.

It hadn’t come to war…yet. For that small favor, Galen was grateful.

Riven turned to Galen once more. This time, a hint of sorrow flashed in his green eyes. “You heard Sigurd. You cannot be here while the human is missing.”

Galen dropped to one knee. “My king, I—”

With a wave of his hand, Riven silenced him. “I can offer nothing until this matter is resolved.”

Strong emotion burned at the corners of Galen’s eyes as he raised his head and stared at the king looming above him. He panned his gaze across the familiar faces he’d so longed to see—Sylvie, Ambrose, and other friends in the guard who had come. Each met him with sorrow or resignation.

They wouldn’t offer him so much as a word of mercy. They couldn’t.

“I understand, my king,” Galen replied, his voice hollow as he pushed to his feet.

He turned to Sylvie, trying to say all with a look that he could not with words. Her face was guarded, uncertain at best, but the bob of her throat hinted at an emotion she refused to reveal.

With one last look at the woman he loved, Galen turned, slipped through the barrier, and wandered into the wastes.

Chapter 4

Sometimejustafterdawn,if one could call it that given the cloudy haze that hung over the shadowed lands and obscured much of the light, Galen found shelter in the ruins of what may once have been a small settlement. The half-collapsed stone building wasn’t much, but sheltering there would be better than lying out in the open where who knew what might find him. A curved stone still held a little bit of water from a previous rain, though not much. He’d need to find more of it, and food, to be able to survive out here and offer any help in locating and retrieving Wren. More the fool him for not bringing any supplies other than a sack of coins and the dagger strapped to his side, but he had expected his task to be over quickly. And besides, there was nothing in the Court of Air that held value for him—material goods were replaceable, and he had little use for sentiment anyway. But before he could hope to source food and supplies, his body begged for rest.

Inside and out, he ached. He needed to sleep and recover some strength. More than that, though, he prayed the dark oblivion of rest would offer a respite from the horrors playing themselves over and over in his head. What would the Unseelie do to Wren? Some of the abuse they’d brought on humans in the past was unspeakable, and she was at their mercy now thanks to his poor plan and failure. He’d damned her when all she’d ever been to him was kind.

Galen brushed away some dirt and debris with his hands and then sank down on the cool stone floor of the structure. The land was quiet, with few bugs offering up any noise and no noticeable bird sounds—a stark change from what was common in both the lands of Forest and Air. The fresh lively notes he craved were absent from the air. Instead, all that reach him were scents of dust and decay.

With a sigh, he stretched out on the floor and stared at the ramshackle roof above. He’d never had a knack for building things, but it seemed stable enough, at least for a few hours of rest.

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