Page 8 of Faeling
She intended to cause the Fae Queen as much trouble and grief as possible before she drove a knife between that hag’s fourth and fifth ribs. Although the fae had long lived on magic alone, they did still have hearts. Amaranthe’s shriveled little organ would know Ravenna’s blade and vengeance.
The Fae Queen would pay for what she’d done to Maxim and Aine.
One day, she would fall. Ravenna knew this as surely as she knew that Vallek Far-Sight was her mate, herazai.
She could only have one, though. That she knew, too.
And she chose her vengeance.
That was the choice she’d made when she first laid eyes upon him. Leaving Oberon and his herd a league away, Ravenna hadwalked the rest of the way to the orcish camp not far from her bower. Using a little magic, she’d slipped through the tents as a shadow. Orcs hardly ever thought to look down for long, and so she made it deep into their camp before she was noticed.
The elite guardsmen had stopped her, of course. They were trained to look everywhere. She explained loudly why she was there, loud enough that Vallek himself had come from the tent to get a look at the strange human woman claiming to be a soothsayer.
As he’d considered her, a bolt of recognition struck Ravenna. A white-hot light enflamed her very being, and she’d known with a clarity so intense it was blinding—azai.
But he saw only what she wanted him to see, her false face. And so Ravenna had put away her realization for later, mustering through a demonstration of her powers for him. Through that, and several more correct predictions in the days to come, she’d earned her place in his household. Taken by the orcs back to Balmirra, she’d been given a room in his own quarters, kept near in case she saw anything important and timely.
Her plan had worked perfectly. So much so, Oberon had been more than a little annoyed.
Don’t be so smug,he’d tell her from where the herd followed behind the orcs from a distance.It isn’t becoming.
In truth, though, Ravenna wasn’t smug. Not really. Pleased with herself—a little. But that first march to Balmirra had been hard, both on her body and her heart. Long nights she spent awake on her pallet, desperate for sleep but her body burning for her mate. Her fangs ached to bite him, her magic reached out to bond to him.
It was only through sheer will, and his leaving again soonafter installing her at Balmirra, that she was able to shore up her defenses. Over the intervening years, between his absences and her own dogged practice, she grew stronger. She could deny them both, for to do anything else would only bring ruin.
The thought brought her little joy, and she hoped he couldn’t spy her sudden melancholy through the glamour. It was silly, really, to mourn what she would never have.
Still, the grief of never having nor claiming herazai,her one true mate, sent by the goddesses themselves the fae said, was a thistle beneath her skin. Every instinct inside her cried out to him. Yet, whenever she looked for recognition in his eyes, she crushed the hope mercilessly.
She could bear the grief precisely because she didn’t know what it was to have anazai. To know and give it up, to lose it…that could not be borne.
And so Ravenna kept her disguise and her peace.
It was enough to playtalfonwith him on a quiet summer evening. To glimpse his sharp, ruthless mind and indulge in his attention was a gift.
He would never know what she was to him, and she would never know the loss of him.
She would use him and his armies to obtain her revenge. Ravenna had no illusions that she would survive the ordeal. Although she never quite knew where her visions came from in time, none were from later in her life that she could tell. She wouldn’t grow old. She wouldn’t build a life for herself beyond her father’s usurped plans.
Even if her soul might rail against that truth, this was the way it had to be.
What Ravenna could give herazaiin return was his ownvision. She would help him make the kingdom he sought, realize the vision of a united orcish people. Yes, she would use it to her advantage, but Vallek would lead them through it.
She would make sure of it.
Sipping from his goblet, Vallek moved his leopard piece into position, readying his trap.
Ravenna feinted consideration before moving her horse piece two diamonds left, negating his trap. She enjoyed the little incensed tick above his brow as he leaned forward to rethink his strategy.
“Have you had any visions?” he asked. “I mean to bring the eastern tribes to heel by winter, and it would be helpful to know what I’m walking into.”
Sitting back in her seat, Ravenna peered down into her goblet. Although she’d been sipping throughout their game, the goblet and portion of mead were both orc-sized, so there was plenty left in her cup to swirl. The rhythm of the liquid lulled her mind, and she let herself fall into a vision.
—stone circles set in a maze—leather tents clustered around a bonfire—smoke obscuring stars—yes, my king—loyalty and an eye—
Ravenna clutched her cup tighter, her hand gone suddenly cold. She set it down on the table before it could spill.
Vallek hadn’t moved, and his posture remained relaxed, but those vivid blue eyes pierced her with their intense curiosity.
