Page 62 of The Lost Fae
But I'm able to sit up, to evaluate our surroundings. And they look familiar. The flowing wisps of the Reminints tree's branches brush against the perfectly manicured lawn below it. Colorful flowers bloom against bright green bushes. Behind that, the tall walls of the brown mansion rise up.
The soft grunt of pain and the wet slurp of a blade being pulled from flesh catches and replays in my ears. I twist in the grass. Barnabus wipes his sword against the pants of a guard, who spills blood from the gushing wound on the side of his neck. Red drips down his bare chest as he slumps to the ground.
"I’m assuming this is the castle you wish to have pillaged?" He lifts a brow.
"It is." And I stand up with the many members of his crew. Each of them pull some sort of weapon from their waist. Even Ellie is not empty handed.
"If you'll drop your mental barriers, I'll show you images of who is against us and who is for us." Lincoln says softly, looking around the gardens for more guards. Barnabus's kill had been quiet as he'd likely taken the guard by surprise, but that didn't mean that someone couldn’t be walking their rounds out here soon, or spot us from one of the many windows.
The leader nods, and Lincoln closes his eyes to concentrate. He shows them images of Cordelia, her evil grin and the seductive curve of her body. Her picture is laced with hate and dread. He shows them other images too. Some bad... like Bellion and Kai. Then he shows them who we wish to protect... Jase, Zeve, and Lylix. He doesn't mention Rowan and somehow that feels like an acceptance of his death. Maybe it is...
When he's done, Lincoln opens his eyes. We share a breath. We share a heartbeat. He steps toward me, brushing his fingers down the side of my face, watching the curve of my mouth. "I love you," he whispers.
"I love you." And the words have never felt so true, so heartfelt, and so necessary.
"I want her to see you in all your glory. I want her to have the image of your perfection seared inside of her brain. I want her to be scared of everything that you are, that she is not." He opens one hand toward one of the Fae that stands in silence next to us. "May I?" He points to his belted knife. The man nods, pulling it from its sheath and offering the hilt to Lincoln.
With his other hand, Lincoln spins me, facing me away from him and toward the building where Cordelia hides. "What are you doing?" I ask, softly.
"Making you stand out. Making you look like The Mortal Queen I envisioned all those months ago. This is the moment, Briar. The one we've worked so hard to get to." I can't see him, but I know his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. "I've always envisioned your wings. And I'm gifting you... I'm gifting you insight."
His mind opens to mine and he pushes the knowledge into me that suddenly feels as if it's all my own. He gives me...my wings lift up off my skin, pushing against my clothing. My body feels like I've done it a thousand times. My wings shift with the desire to take flight.
Lincoln has given me the knowledge of how to fly. It feels like cheating, because I didn't have to figure out how to do it on my own. My lashes brush against my cheek bones and the memory of wind under my wings is so strong I can imagine that I'm moving them right now.
"Be still," Lincoln whispers. He presses the blade against the fabric of my shirt, dragging it down until two long cuts slit the fabric. His fingers tease inside my shirt until he gently grasps my wings and pulls them free of the fabric.
Many of the Fae around us flutter their wings, some lifting up off the ground, ready to take flight. I only have to give it half a thought, it's like riding a bike only I'm pushing the pedals with someone else’s memories of the action itself. Pressure on my toes and heels disappears. My wings flap rapidly, like a hummingbird, and no part of me touches the earth any longer.
Lincoln releases a shuddering breath as he watches, his face cast in total awe. I smile, lowering myself back to the ground.
"Thank you.” I say. "With my whole heart, thank you."
"Are we all done with this mushy gushy stuff now? I'm itching to get this over with and get on with my day." Barnabus laughs.
It's funny how that's all this is to Barnabus. This is just a task on his to-do list for him and his crew of bandits, but then that's it. It's much more serious for me. This is the beginning of the rest of my life. This is the beginning of a new reign.
"That door." I point to the archway that Kai had led me through on one of my first nights here. "Through the hall, make a right. You'll pass through one room, maybe two."
"Lets go get your crown, princess." Barnabus winks, and starts stomping through the garden.
Not one of the bandits cares to avoid the precious plants that decorate the garden. As a group they move in unison, forming a triangle shape behind Barnabus. There are no shouts for joy now. Not even the slightest sound of the intake of breath. They move with deadly intent.
Entering the glittering mansion, before I see it, I can hear the sound of sword on sword clanking together. Men grunt in effort, but before a cry for help can ring out it all falls silent again. I step under the doorway. The Fae take flight, hovering above the fresh puddle of blood. Another one of Cordelia's shirtless guards lays face down, never to breathe again.
My wings start to move behind me, creating their own wind that lifts me up in an arch over the fallen man. I can't help but stare down at his lifeless body as I move quietly above him. Barnabus and his men charge ahead, some remaining in flight on their beautiful glittering wings while others choose to go forth on foot.
Lincoln stops at the side of the guard. Gently, he nudges his face to the side and frowns. "Remington. He was a good guard, and a good man." Lincoln walks directly through the quickly growing mass of blood. His boots stick to the floor and leave behind red footprints in his wake.
When the hall comes to an end, I know it's a clear and straight shot. Shouldn't there be some sort of fear... or excitement... or something? Shouldn't my thoughts be suggesting some form of the anxiety I've always had nagging in the back of my head?
Somehow, that feeling is gone now. Replaced with a much more tranquil emotion. There isn't any shaking in my hands nor do I have the overwhelming urge to turn and run for the hills.
This feels... right. Maybe it's that I know that Lincoln has seen this very moment. Maybe it feels like I'm finally fulfilling my destiny. Whatever the feeling is... I know it's going to kick Queen Cordelia's ass.
Our steps are silent.
Deadly.
