Page 38 of Wrath of the Fae

Reid has that white streak of hair. Cyrus has that devious smirk. They whoop and cheer as they dip and dive over the water’s surface, collecting stones. The one destined for them.

For me.

Reid dives down deep, holding his breath as long as he can. His fingers take hold of the deep red ruby nestled in the deepest part of the stream, and he returns it to Cyrus at the surface.

They inspect it for any flaws. Cyrus pulls out the dagger from his belt, and they place the ruby in the setting left ready for the final piece. It’s a perfect fit.

My dagger.

I open my eyes and see the same weapon now in my palm.

They told me how they made this dagger. Their Eternity dagger, crafted from the materials they found and forged themselves. They made this one together before they were supposed to. They made it in secret and hid it so they wouldn’t get in trouble. They told me they dived into this lake to find the perfect ruby for its setting.

The Fates really wanted us to find each other…

I remember their words, and that anger boils up again.

I toss the stones into the water as far as possible, then fall to my knees and sink my hand beneath the water. My fingers wrap around a rock, and I carry it to the shore. Falling to my knees, I place the dagger before me and smash the rock into the ruby repeatedly until it becomes splinters and dust. With a blow, I clear the setting of it entirely. I return my dagger to my holder and stand, shaking with anger and grief.

This dagger was made for me. I’ll use it, alright. I’ll slice their traitorous throats with the blade they forged. I’ll pierce their black hearts right up to the delicate hilt they designed. I’ll…

I freeze, feeling the slightest blast of air wash over me and hearing the delicate crunch of stones beneath a gentle landing. I straighten, hearing the rustle of large wings as they tuck in. And I swallow as I catch a scent I know well.

I turn, seeing a tall figure with broad shoulders. The white First Kingdom tunic is stained with old blood and dirt. The sword of iron at his hip resonates a threatening hum.

Dark hair falls to his shoulders. All except the pure white strips at the front that hangs loosely over his pale blue eyes. Eyes that look right at me. Into my very soul.

My heart stops and relocates to my throat.

‘Reid…’ I breathe.

seven

Hestandstall,staringat me with an unreadable expression. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword, and his chest rises and falls with deep and heavy breaths. Old bruises cover his left cheek, and a healing cut marks his eyebrow.

Those piercing pale blue eyes never look away from mine, holding a fierce intensity.

I check to see what weapons he has. A sword at his hip. A dagger on his thigh. Then I see his hand.

And the wedding markings he has on his finger.

I twitch.

‘About time,’ he breathes, looking me up and down in wonderment. I slowly look back at him. ‘They said I was insane, but I knew you would come back. I knew you weren’t truly gone.’

I hold my dagger tightly, flexing my fingers around its hilt as I ready myself. He glances at it, and the fuckers mouth twitches in the corner, letting out a sly smirk.

‘You still have it. And where do you plan on putting it, Little Bird?’ he asks, his eyes flicking back to mine.

My wings stretch out in reaction to my building rage as I take deep and heavy breaths. The ground shakes. The pebbles and stones at the stream’s edge vibrate. He looks at my wings, and that smirk grows, my threat not bothering him one bit.

‘My Little Bird has new wings,’ he says. ‘They’re beautiful. Almost as beautiful as you.’ He traces his finger down the side of his face. ‘Your scars have gone. Shame. I liked them. Fuck. I have missed you.’

I see red. Hatred. Rage. Wrath. I’m a volcano, and I explode, screaming with venom as I grip the handle of my dagger and attack. He stands firm as I run at him, grinning from ear to ear with dark excitement. His feet spread as he prepares to hold his ground. His hands open as if preparing to catch me.

As soon as I get close, I slash the blade's tip at his throat. He dodges with ease, his feet still planted as he lunges back. I bring the dagger back, aiming for his throat once more. He ducks and I fucking miss. I try to drive it to his belly but his hand wraps around my wrist, holding it in place. The dagger’s tip is pressed into his solid stomach, not piercing his flesh.

‘You mean it,’ he says, still smiling as he puts his hand on my back and pulls me close. ‘You’re mad. I don’t blame you. So, let's get this over with, shall we?’

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