“The Fae Mark itself doesn’t mean we’re bonded to them?” I asked, my hand reaching up to touch the swirling black and white magic on his skin. It danced over his flesh in response, writhing and drawing a pulse of light from the black circle on the back of my hand.
“It connects the Fae to the Marked, in a way, so that they can find one another. But until the ceremony is completed, life forces do not join and humans don’t become eternal,” he explained, leaning forward to touch his lips to my forehead gently as I covered a yawn with my hand.
I shifted forward, curling my body into his chest. The moment his arms wrapped around my back, sleep threatened to pull me under as I drowsily asked, “What’s the ceremony?”
“The Fae have three days to complete a quest to prove their worth and bring back a gift their mate will treasure for eternity. They then make love on Faerie soil in a place surrounded by the magic of the Court. The Spring Fae have sex amongst fields of flowers. The Winter Fae have a sacred place where they’re surrounded by snow-capped mountains and frozen waterfalls. Summer Fae are surrounded by tropical waters and sandy beaches, and the Autumn Fae have sex at the tops of trees as tall as the Hollow Mountains,” he said, his voice getting quieter and quieter until it trailed off into a whisper as I fought to keep my eyes open.
“What of the Shadow Court?” I asked, just as I shut out all traces of light.
“Something far more sinister,” he murmured, his fingers tightening against my spine. “They hunt their mate in a cove, with all the monsters of Faerie to bear witness to the claiming when they catch him or her.”
I drifted off, my thoughts filled with the worst imaginings of what a monster of Faerie must look like, wishing I’d stopped him at the Autumn Court and fallen asleep to dream of people balancing in the treetops.
I jolted awake.
Springing to a sitting position with a hand pressed to my chest, I heaved in deep lungfuls of air in my desperate need to catch my breath. The darkness of the room pressed in all around me, the shadows of my nightmare lingering at the forefront of my mind. Macabre images of shadow monsters devouring Brann’s body while I watched haunted me even with my eyes open.
I reached back to touch Caelum, hoping to soothe myself with his presence, only for my hand to find his bedroll empty. I turned slowly as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, looking around the small, dark cavern where the only light came from the torches in the tunnels outside the curtain that was parted slightly. There wasn’t a single sign of him in the room he’d insisted we share, the surrounding space empty.
I swallowed, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip as I threw back the light blanket he must have draped over me after I’d fallen asleep. My body felt slick with sweat from my nightmare, tricked into thinking it was trying to escape the monster chasing me down.
I moved to the end of the bedroll, getting my feet underneath me and slipping them into my boots. Standing slowly, I crossed to the curtain at the entrance of the room. Peeking through the crack into the empty hallway, I warred with myself.
I would feel ridiculous if he’d left me to go to the latrine. Wandering around to try to find him with my heart in my gut and feeling like something was very, very wrong would be sad if it turned out to be nothing.
Still, I pulled the curtain back a little more and stepped out into the tunnel. The torches lining the wall lit the way as I followed them back to the common space where all the bunk rooms fanned out in a sunburst fashion.
The tunnel was silent. Everyone in the Resistance slept the night away, the soft padding of my boots echoing through the enclosed space so loudly that I wanted to cringe. It seemed to take forever to reach the commons, the faint sound of voices whispering quietly drifting through to the mouth of the tunnel where I stood. I watched as Caelum ran a frustrated hand over his forehead. I hugged the side wall, making myself as small as possible, as he drew his hand away and spoke to Imelda.
The witch grimaced, her eyes pinching closed as she nodded up at him. She reached out slowly, grasping his hand in hers for a brief moment as she whispered something to him. Beyond the hush of her quiet voice, the low tones barely reaching me, I couldn’t make out the words.
I only knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they had not been meant for my ears.
Caelum’s fingers closed around hers briefly, a gentle squeeze that seemed to wrap itself around my heart before he pulled back and severed the connection. He whispered something, his face hard and unyielding in a way that I hadn’t seen on him very often.
I knew he had the harsh side that I’d seen glimpses of, and he’d shown when he saw my scars, but I’d never seen how intense it became when he used it against other people. There was no wonder that I withered under the weight of his stare.
He turned away from Imelda, coming toward the tunnel where I waited, watching the interaction. His steps faltered as his gaze landed on me, that smooth gait of his disrupted by the shock of his features before he relaxed the irritation he’d shown Imelda from his face.
He closed the distance between us, reaching up to lay his hand against the side of my cheek. It took everything in me not to jump to the conclusion rattling around in my mind, not to flinch back from the same hand that had touched hers. “What are you doing up, my star?” he asked, the gentleness in his voice feeling like a deception.
Like a punch to the gut, confirming everything I’d already known would happen, Caelum was already keeping secrets with other women.
“I feel like maybe I should be the one asking that question,” I said, tilting my head to the side as I stared up at him. My throat burned with the rawness of impending tears, and the feeling that the one thing I’d found that I wanted to keep had been torn away.
“We were discussing the warding on the tunnels. I needed to be sure it was safe for you here,” he said, brushing his thumb over my cheekbone, as if he could see the tears that I clenched my teeth to prevent, and the dread settling into the pit of my stomach.
“In the middle of the night?” I questioned, pulling back from his caress. His hand fell from my face, hanging in the air as if suspended in his disbelief that I didn’t want his touch. That I didn’t crave his torment, when my heart felt so close to shattering.
“Your jealousy is showing again, Little One. You know how much I like it,” he said, his lips tipping up as if he could diffuse the tension rolling between us with teasing.