Page 2 of Realm of Wind and Vines
“Do you know how much easier everyone’s lives would be if you simply ceased to exist?” Draven snarls in my ear.
The pain tries to strangle me again, but with both the burning rage and hatred that now fills my soul as well as the lingering feeling of pleasure from when I created that emotion just now, it thankfully can’t get through. So instead of feeling hurt, I let out a mocking scoff and arch an eyebrow at Draven over my shoulder.
“It’s cute how you think that’s going to hurt me.” I give him a pointed look. “I grew up in a home where my parents told me that exact thing all the time, remember?”
A muscle flickers in his jaw, and he flexes his hand on the hilt of his blade again.
Just when I think he might actually follow through on his threat and ram that knife into my kidney, a voice echoes from the edge of the woods behind us.
“Oi!” Alistair bellows. “They’re back. Let’s go.”
Draven remains looming behind me, his knife still at my back, for another second. Then he clicks his tongue in annoyance and spins on his heel before stalking back down the path. Turning around as well, I run a hand over my back where the knife used to be, but I can’t feel any damage to the leather. Draven is already halfway to the trees.
I watch his powerful body as he expertly spins the blade in his hand and then slips it back into his thigh holster. Fire flickersthrough my veins. He ismine. And by all the gods and demons in hell, I will make sure he fucking remembers it.
Letting my hand drop back down again, I start down the path as well. Before I leave the edge of the cliff, I cast one last look at the old human fisherman. He is still whistling joyfully as he fishes down there on the beach below.
Deep down, I know that I should feel bad. Even though I gave him a positive emotion, I still changed his personality permanently. It’s wrong. I know that. But I still can’t bring myself to care. Because if I start to care about that, then I will start to care about everything else again too.
My gaze slides back to Draven as that world-ending pain tries to swallow me once more.
No. I can’t care about the fisherman. Because then I will start to care about the way Draven looks at me now. And I will not survive that.
So I straighten my spine and leave behind the human whose life I permanently change without another thought as I instead follow Draven back to the tree line.
Alistair, who is also wearing the black fighting leathers that Jocasta gave us during the Great Games in the Unseelie Court, is leaning one shoulder against a tree trunk. His arms are crossed over his chest and there is a hint of impatience in his orange and green eyes as he watches us.
I’m thankful for it, because I hated the sympathy in everyone’s eyes when they found out what happened to Draven. Alistair was one of the first to realize that, and he quickly started treating me and Draven as if nothing has changed. It honestly surprised me since I hadn’t thought Alistair was that perceptive. But, as I’ve come to realize time and again, most of my preconceived notions about Alistair have turned out to be false.
“If you’re done playing indecisive assassins, we’ve got a job to do,” Alistair drawls as Draven and I reach him.
Draven cuts him a sidelong glance. “I could always practice my decisiveness on you, if you want.”
“Uh-huh. You know, it’s very difficult to stab someone with a blade that has been melted.”
“Hard to melt a blade when it’s already lodged in your back.”
Alistair tips his head to the side, as if conceding the point. Pushing off from the tree trunk, he straightens and runs a hand through his curly blond hair before falling in beside us as we walk back into the woods towards where the rest of our companions are waiting.
When we come into view, Lyra and Galen immediately glance between me and Draven. They probably guessed what he was going to do when he left them to join me on the cliff, because a hint of relief flits across their faces when they see us.
Next to them, Isera watches us with that customary cold expression in her blue and silver eyes. She’s one of the few who never gave me those awful sympathetic looks after she found out about what I had to do to Draven. She simply told me that I made the right choice and clapped me on the shoulder, and that was that. I don’t think anything has ever made me like someone more than that simple act.
“It’s clear,” Isera declares while sweeping her long black hair off her shoulder. “No one from the Silver Clan is in the Seelie Court right now.”
“We should still open the portal inside the thorn forest,” Orion Nightbane adds, his black and silver eyes as sharp as ever. The spiky black crown on his head glints in the afternoon light as he cocks his head. The movement sends ripples through his long dark blue hair. “We just need an exact location.”
“The opening where the river is pushed back up to the forest floor after being underground,” I reply as we come to a halt in front of them.
Orion slides his gaze to the Unseelie fae with shoulder-length brown hair beside him. “You know it?”
Grey, the man with portal magic from the Unseelie Court, gives his king a nod. “Yes.”
“Then let’s get this over with.”
A sparkling blue rectangle rises up from the ground as Grey summons a portal. My stomach twists and an unexpected pang of nausea rolls through me when the thorn forest around the Seelie Court becomes visible through that magical doorway.
Lyra claps her hands, startling everyone. But there is a bright smile on her lips as she strolls straight towards the portal. “Alright, let’s go see the dryads.”
