Page 73 of Fake Dating a Human 101

“They haven’t voted yet,” Mor said back as he marched over, grabbed the top of the Commander’s head and the bottom of his jaw, and slammed everything together. Luc felt the snap of the vines, and he slid off the Commander’s back with his wrists raised as the vine tumbled to the ground.

“What do you mean, they haven’t voted yet?” Luc asked as that settled in. Also, he wondered how in the world Mor knew that.

The Commander released a horrifying bark and spun with his blade out, but Mor and Luc were already gone.

The wind felt sweet, even though rain pelted Luc’s face as he sped on the gusts after Mor. He hardly saw the Commander chasing them in the gales, until Mor’s ankle was grabbed, and Luc watched him be lurched out of the current. Luc rolled out after him, landing on his feet at the foot of the mountain. Before Luc had a chance to breathe, a saber swung past his face. Mor smashed the blade back as he ripped his ankle free of the Commander’s grip, and Luc took the opportunity to twist and steal a pair of fairsabers off the fairy who’d tried to run him through. It was the first chance he got to look up, and his rhythms faltered at the sight of all the fairies racing through the trees with their blades held high.

“What exactly did you do to make it to this mountain?” Luc asked Mor. “Not that I’m complaining you’re here.”

Mor collided with the fairies first—he ducked and slashed fae flesh, moving through the scattered warriors with decent technique, but certainly not the same sort of grace Luc moved with. Then he said, “I airslipped. All these fools chased me.”

“Oh dear.” Luc nodded with a wince. “I was hoping you came in secret or something.” He spun into a series of stabs and kicks, dropping two fairies at once. “I should have mentioned I don’t particularly want to cause any more trouble in this Corner, Trisencor.”

“Why does that matter?” Mor asked. He took a punch to the mouth, but he still managed to shout, “You’re already a breath away from dying if they vote to kill you!” Stab, stab, and another stab. Drops of purple blood competed with the rain, hitting trees, flailing in arches, splattering over Mor’s scent-concealing coat.

“Hmm.” Luc’s mouth twisted. He paused his killing to contemplate. “I’ve just realized that you don’t actually know what else they’re voting on, do you?”

“Look out!” Mor shouted, pointing to a rushing Shadow Fairy.

But Luc had seen the fairy coming ages ago. He dropped to a knee and bent forward just as the fairy reached him, sending the fairy tripping over his back and flying into a tree. Luc stood and glanced after him. “What a loser,” he muttered. Then he marched to where Mor was, stabbing and blocking as he did a quick count of the Shadows popping into view, calculating the energy he would spend trying to fight if the Army kept coming. And he decided he and Mor wouldn’t make it.

“Let’s run,” he suggested. “And then you can tell me all about why in the name of the sky deities you came here.” He smirked just a bit. “Though, I think I can already guess.”

Mor scowled. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he warned as he cut a fairy thigh. He was sliced up the arm in return, and he gawked. Luc hurtled his left fairsaber through the Shadow Fairy’s shoulder, and then he sighed because Mor was out of shape, and he wasn’t sure if it would be polite to point it out.

“And they’ll just follow us if we try to run,” Mor added, clutched his bleeding arm. But he started backing away toward the mountain as he took in all the fresh Shadows flooding the trees.

“Then let’s run to Cressica,” Luc said. When Mor didn’t reply, Luc’s face fell. “You did bring the mighty North Prince, right? Please don’t tell me youactuallycame here alone—”

Mor fled into the howling wind, grabbing Luc on his way. Naturally, at least a dozen war fae followed, eating up the gusts at their backs, swinging their weapons and coming dangerously close to cutting off Luc’s limbs. Luc swatted one right out of the air as he rode the gales, staying on Mor’s heels. They moved so fast that when they exited the airstream, they tumbled onto a patch of grass in a tangle of limbs, rolling over and sliding to a stop—Luc was flat on his stomach in the dirt.

“Where are we?” Luc asked with a wince. He’d lost his weapons somewhere in the wind.

“You’re just over the border of the Dark Corner.” A menacing, yet familiar voice filled the clearing. “And you’re in my domain now.”

Cress wore a hooded coat like Mor’s, only his was short and looked to be made of leather for human motorcycle riders. Sunglasses covered his normally cold eyes.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Luc let his face fall into the grass. He rested there as popping sounds filled the woods around them. “I was worried you hadn’t brought him,” he admitted to Mor who, coincidentally, was lying flat on his back in the grass at his side. When Mor turned his head, he glared at Luc, and Luc almost jumped in surprise at the expression. All Luc’s merry thoughts about Mor coming to rescue him for ‘caring reasons’ went up in smoke.

So Luc grunted. “Figures,” he muttered. Mor probably only came to force Luc to keep his promise about dear Lily and three-legged Dranian.

Luc looked around at the empty, damp forest, sniffing a few times.

Speaking of Dranian…

Cress suddenly pulled down his hood and tore off his sunglasses. Mor’s wide-eyed reaction was enough for Luc to realize Cress revealing himself hadnotbeen part of their plan.

“Cress, wait!” Mor tried grabbing Cress’s leg as the mighty North Prince stepped over him with his bright eyes taking in the Shadow Fairies.

“You’ve crossed into forbidden territory. I shall inform my Queene immediately of this treachery!” he shouted at them.

Half the Shadow Fairies looked startled at the sight of the North Queene’s dreaded ward, alive and hungry for their blood. Most of them drew back, blinking wildly like they were sure they weren’t seeing properly. It was only then Luc noticed his old Commander. The old brute had followed him all this way even though his teeth probably ached like crazy.

“Yes, I have returned to finish what I started with the Shadows,” Cress went on. “That’s the won-oh-won of being an assassin.”

Mor closed his eyes and slapped a hand over his face. Luc, though, rolled up to a sitting position to watch. This was better than late night TV thrillers.

Cress drew his fairsaber handle from his pocket. The storm picked up, a bout of lightning burning across the North Corner skies, thunder crackling on cue, and the perfect amount of breeze fluttered Cress’s hair as his fairsaber blade formed with abuzz. It was all terrifying, and totally magical. Luc smacked Mor’s shoulder. “You’re missing it, Trisencor. Wake up and watch,” he urged.

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