The Fellowship: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (The Harbinger Book 2) Read online

  Ophelia spoke, “You are here as an emissary for the Ulen. You will not be harmed here, Ulen, so long as you behave yourself.” She referred to the attacking of the Elven guards when he was freshly turned, a fledgling, unable to control his lust for violence and blood. The Camden that sat near him was a different man, now.

  After Ophelia beckoned again, Camden gave a concerned glance to Light before standing and moving to her side near the pond. Light did not move; he simply watched them, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It always did when it came to the Court.

  “Here,” Ophelia said, tilting the bag of food toward Camden.

  Camden gently plucked a few tiny pieces of food from the bag, tossing them into the crystal clear pond one by one, which made the Elf beside him laugh.

  “You torture them by doing that,” she told him, seeming even brighter and whiter beside his painted-grey skin. “Take more, and throw them all in at once. It is a wonderful display of colors when they are in a frenzy.” Ophelia glanced back at Light, gesturing for him to come to her and join them.

  Light did not want to. He did not want to play whatever game Ophelia thought she did. His sat, rooted on the bench beneath the giant bush. Seeing Camden bite back a smile as he watched the wren was enough.

  Alas, it was not enough for Ophelia, who commanded, “Come.” Her tone was strong. She would not ask again.

  Having no choice in the matter, Light begrudgingly got to his feet and headed to the small wren pond. The fish were already swarming each other, frantically searching for more food, their long, colorful tails blending into each other’s and making new swirls of color. He took some of the food pebbles from the sack, careful not to brush Ophelia’s hand as he did so, not saying a word. Both Camden and Ophelia stared at him all the while, waiting for him to have his turn in feeding the wren.

  Light tossed the entire handful into the pond. The food floated for only a moment before the pool became sheer and utter chaos. The wren turned vicious, swimming over each other as they tried to gobble up as much of the food as they could. They moved so fast that their tails and bodies all blended together; Light could not tell where one fish ended and another began.

  “I find it relaxing,” Ophelia spoke to either brother. Camden stood on her left while Light was on her right. How watching something so chaotic was any bit relaxing, Light hadn’t a clue. “You are both concerned about Faith,” she continued, glancing to the both of them but lingering on Light for a few seconds more. “And you should be. She is the Harbinger. She will save us from the Dread King and his wicked armies.” She seemed so sure, so certain that this would be so. “But you must believe in her. She needs strong people behind her, to support her, especially in the face of skeptics like Frey.”

  Frey, the grumpy, sneering one. The Court member who did not believe that Faith was the Harbinger, not even a little. Light had hoped that this ordeal would change his mind, but it seemed he was mistaken.

  “The girl will wake,” Ophelia stated, confident. “She must. Her fate cannot be reached by eternal slumber.” She tossed the rest of the food into the pond with a satisfied smile. Just when the wren had devoured the previous food, it was chaos once more in the water. She was about to say more when a hyll ran towards them.

  A good-sized pet of the Court, its black color reminiscent of Bul’ara’s hair. Its long ears were perked up, its intelligent eyes frantic as it poked Ophelia’s dress with its wet nose.

  Ophelia seemed to glean something from its actions. “Someone is here,” she said, hurriedly walking away, leaving Light and Camden to gaze down at the hyll, who had wandered to the pond and stared wide-eyed at the wren.

  Someone was here? Light wondered who it could be. He gently hit Camden on the shoulder and motioned towards Ophelia, who was already moving to the exit of the garden. Camden gave him a sorrowful look, his cloudy amber eyes shifting to the fish for a moment before he remembered what his priorities were.

  Faith. The Harbinger.

  As long as the someone who was here was not the Dread King, they would be fine.

  Light and Camden hurried to catch up to Ophelia, entering the white palace and winding through its halls until they came upon the courtroom. Its doors were wide open, the magical sky inside it a vibrant blue. The two other members of the Court were surrounded by a pack of Humans sporting the same uniform and gear as the group who had forcibly taken Faith and her class home before.

  Only, this group was not led by her mother. Her mother, Light noticed, was nowhere to be seen. This particular gaggle of Humans was fronted by an older woman with pinched eyes, a dress of sorts, and shoes with heels so high that Light wondered how she walked in them, let alone did any directing. He’d never seen this woman before, but he knew he wasn’t fond of her. She seemed strict, serious, and down-to-business.

  “You understand,” the Human woman spoke, her voice strong even though she held more than a few wrinkles, “that you cannot open portals into our world. We use the gateways. Anything more is illegal and a breach of our agreement.”

  The men and women surrounding her held their black weapons against their chests. They each looked like battle-hardened soldiers, save for one younger male on the group’s right. Though he was as large as the rest of them, he was young, and he held no giant weapon. What caught Light’s eyes was his hair; it spiky lengths were the color of blood. And unlike the others, his uniform was a bit different. He also wore a black mask that fit to his face.

  “And as for your reason for opening the portal,” the older Human carried on, “you cannot kidnap any of Earth’s citizens.” Her stern eyes glanced all around. “Where is she? Should you hold her from us, you will force me to use extreme measures. You have already lost close to a dozen children that were entrusted into your care. I will not let that number grow.”

  While Frey fumed at the audacity of the Human, Bul’ara spoke calmly from her throne as Ophelia marched to hers, “We are truly sorry for the attack. We are looking into it in hopes that we find the missing—”

  “I am sure you are,” the woman spoke, her tone over-enunciating each word as if she didn’t truly believe it. Light couldn’t blame her. He knew the Court did not care about the young males. It was a wonder that trips had gone on for this long. “That does not change the fact that there are devastated parents, destroyed families, all because you failed to protect them. All Earth-Second programs have been canceled, and our government is looking into options.”

  Options? Options to do what? To march across all the lands and somehow find the missing males? Light knew that was a longshot, almost impossible, and it would be a waste of manpower.

  “I will ask again, where is Faith Blackwell?”

  “She is safe,” Ophelia spoke, cool and collected even in the face of the angry woman. “But she cannot go back with you.”

  “That is where you are wrong,” the woman said, defiant. No Elf would’ve spoken to her like that, used a tone quite like that. Ophelia, to her credit, barely blinked at the disrespect. “I am authorized to use whatever force I deem necessary, and while I’m sure the dagger you are hiding in your sleeve can stop one of us, it will not stop all of us. Do you know what those are?” She pointed to the weapons lying across her soldiers’ chests. “Those are guns. Those are weapons capable of firing thirty shots a minute. Behind the trigger mechanisms, there is no technology, so they will work fine here.” Her eyes dared the Court members to say more. “Are you ready to face weapons like that?”

  “You threaten us,” Frey growled, his mouth turned into a frown. His fingers gripped his armrests tightly, knuckles turning white. “How dare you—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “How dare you. You have lost our children, you have opened illegal portals, and you have kidnapped my Director’s daughter.”

  “And who exactly are you?” Ophelia spoke, “Who do we have the pleasure of meeting on this day?”

  “I am the President of the Infantry Division of the United States government. I oversee ev
erything, and I have all the authority I need to storm this castle and find Faith. I was hoping to avoid that, though. I was hoping that you’d cooperate.”

  When it seemed like a stalemate of words and wills, Light stepped forward, drawing the eyes of each soldier, of the Court, and of the woman. “Faith can’t go back with you. She is our Harbinger.”

  The president woman laughed. “Oh, I am well aware what you think she is. I know your legends.”

  Light was insulted, as he knew she meant it derogatorily. “It is not a legend. Things do not work here like they do on the Middleworld. There is magic, there are things unexplainable by nature. Faith cannot go back with you. I will not let you take her again.”

  The Human woman smiled, though it was mirthless. “And who are you to stop me?”

  “I’m just a hunter,” Light said, rolling his shoulders. “But I do what I must, and I will do what I have to to ensure this realm does not fall into Dracyrus’s grip. Surely there have been leaders on your world that you knew should not lead? Whose orders only cause death and the fall of kingdoms?”

  It was a moment before the woman whispered, “You are right. There have been many of those, and I do not doubt your feelings on the matter—however, Faith is young. She has not yet graduated the Academy. She cannot be this harbinger you speak of. She is not the one to fight for you. She is a Human, and she belongs with us.”

  Camden spoke quietly beside Light, “The Harbinger is always Human.”

  The older woman turned to him. “And why would that be the case?”

  Camden was unsure. “It’s always been so.”

  “You cannot take her without consequence,” the woman said, “we cannot let this pass.” For a while, she stared at the Court members, at Light and Camden. No one moved for the longest time; no one spoke. No one, it seemed, knew quite what to do.

  What would they do? Light would not let these Humans take her, not again. He would not watch her leave again. He grew upset merely thinking about it. No, Faith had to stay here. Even if she wasn’t the Harbinger, Light needed her.

  He needed her so much.

  Chapter Six

  Something was wrong with Faith. Yes, she felt all the rage and hatred she’d felt ever since looking upon that statue, ever since hearing the Dread King’s name, but that wasn’t the end of it. There was more. More that she felt about it, more she thought of him; just…more.

  “Perhaps,” he had told her, those black eyes staring down at her from his superior position, “I shall have you before I kill you, conquer you in a way no Harbinger has been conquered before.” It was only a whisper, meant to be a threat, meant to scare her, frighten her—as it rightly should, for it was something women had endured since the dawn of time—but she wasn’t frightened.

  In fact, her body reacted in a way she would not have guessed: she shivered, tingling all over. It was not a bad feeling, not at all, but sudden and unwelcome. Faith shouldn’t feel anything like this when she was so close to her enemy, when she was beneath him for goodness’ sakes. Suddenly the fact that the cloak only shielded half her body was not enough.

  “I would rather die,” she said, “than let you do that to me.” As she met his strong, intense stare, Faith wondered if he heard it, the waver in her voice, how she sounded unsure. Would she rather die? It seemed like a good thing to say, something the Harbinger would say to the Dread King when he threatened such things, but would she truly rather die?

  No.

  No, Faith didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to be a hero, she didn’t want to be caught in an endless struggle against the Dracon on top of her. But she had no choice. Her destiny was laid before her before she had even known who the Dread King was.

  “A bird may hate its cage, but that does not mean it has the power to escape,” Dracyrus spoke in a whisper, smiling. The ivory scales around his horns seemed to sparkle in the between-world they were stuck in.

  “I am no bird,” Faith said, wanting to sound tough, wanting to throw him off her and rid herself of these strange feelings, of the tinglings she felt, even in her toes. “I am…” She trailed off, unable to finish. What was she? A girl, the Harbinger, an Academy student? Beyond that, she didn’t know.

  Dracyrus’s wide body shook with laughter above her. Faith hated the fact that she knew what he looked like—what all of him looked like. It wasn’t a bad sight, even with the scales around his forehead, shoulders and chest. Even with the horns, even with the long white hair…taken straight out of a fantasy, some kinky girl’s version of hot.

  Faith was not that kinky, was she?

  “I know what you are,” he said, smirking. “I know perfectly well what you are.” This should be good. “You are weak, pathetic, irritating—a scourge upon me and anyone else you meet in your miserable, short life—”

  “That’s a little much,” she muttered, turning her head to the side, unable to continue looking up at him. Beside the hatred she felt for him, there was something else, probably due to what that one Elf said—Oppa, Oregano, Ophelia? Ophelia.

  Sleep with him. Right. As if she’d want to do any of that, as if she could do the deed with someone so big—in every sense of the word—and not break herself in the process. As if she could do it without vomiting. She’d probably puke right on his face. As if she’d sink to that level, as if…

  That stupid Ophelia and her stupid idea. Now that it was planted in Faith’s head, it’s all she could think about. That had to be the reason she felt as she did; it had to be the reason for all the fluttering in her stomach, why her hatred for him felt so oddly miniscule in comparison. Stupid Ophelia.

  “Nothing is too extreme for you,” Dracyrus spoke, and while her eyes gazed into the horizon, past her current predicament and position, he lowered his head to her ear, adding, “I cannot wait until we are awake and out of this place.”

  Okay, maybe Ophelia wasn’t the stupid one. Maybe the stupid one here was Faith, because she shouldn’t even think about sleeping with the Dread King. Those words never went together in all of the Second’s history, she knew, and they shouldn’t start getting used together now. Yep. Faith was the stupid one, Faith was the one who couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  God. When did she get so…so horny?

  She smiled to herself. Puns were always fun, and always welcome, though her mind was quick to return to the matter at hand. Seriously. With her family’s history with men, sleeping with anyone in general should be the last thing on her mind.

  “Do you want to know the first thing I’ll do to you?” Dracyrus whispered, his nose pressed against her ear. His skin, the parts that weren’t covered in scales, was smooth. Smoother than she imagined it would be. Not that she spent her time imagining what he would feel like. She hated him. He was her enemy. He was…

  Her will was crumbling, running away. Faith could see it sprinting off into the distance, happy to be gone. Bye-bye, will.

  “I would say no,” Faith muttered half-heartedly, “but I have a feeling you’ll still tell me anyway.” Look at her, being so sarcastic and dry, even now. She’d be proud if she wasn’t so disappointed.

  “I would take your hands,” he said, ignoring her, “and tie them up.”

  Faith let out a loud breath, staring hard at the yellow ball that was their only light in this water world. When did it get so hot in here? Did someone turn the temperature up when she wasn’t looking?

  “Tie your legs down, have them spread and waiting for me.”

  Her cheeks burned. If Cara was here, hearing this, she’d burst into a bubble of embarrassment. This was too much. This was just too much.

  “I would make you beg—”

  Faith couldn’t take it anymore. She muttered, “I’d never beg.” She felt a large hand grip her face tightly, digging into her cheeks a few notches harder than was civil. His body rumbled above her, and she hated the fact that she was so turned on. Had she ever been so turned on? Probably not. She was clearly unreliable in the sanity department because thi
s was crazy. As crazy as it could be.

  “For me,” he whispered harshly, “you will.”

  At this rate, Faith admonished, it would probably be true. At this rate, she’d probably be glad to get on her knees and beg him for whatever that deep, scratchy voice told her to. Shit. This was bad. This was worse than bad. This was—this was the very opposite of the one thing she was supposed to do.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “After I have had you,” he went on, still gripping her face tightly, “I will cut open that soft flesh of yours and bleed you out before the Elves, before anyone who opposes me. I will mount your corpse on a pike and invite all of my army to witness the fall of the Harbinger.”

  Faith blinked, grinning to herself. At least she could handle the threats, she could focus on something that was not the tingling feeling in her lower gut. “I think, Dracyrus, you have a lot of issues.”

  “Only one,” he admitted. “And that is you, Harbinger.”

  “Okay,” she said, amending her previous words, “I have issues.”

  That got him to stare at her quizzically and finally release her face. Faith would not turn to face him, for she knew only bad things would happen if she stared into his black eyes.

  Her stomach tightened. “A lot of issues.”

  She could imagine how he eyeballed her, like she was growing a second head—weird, disgusting, yet he couldn’t look away. “Are all Human females as peculiar as you?” It was meant as an insult, as much everything he said was, but she found herself shaking her head.

  “Just me, I think.”

  With a sigh, Dracyrus rolled off her, finally giving her much-needed space. He sat beside her, wide shoulders in a slump. “My fortune has never been good.” He pouted as much as any intimidating, seven-foot-tall, dragon-like man could.

  Faith quickly sat up, pulling the cloak around her to cover her nakedness. She kept her legs tightly together, and she swore to herself she’d never do differently, especially for the bastard next to her. “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she started to say, stopping herself, “actually, no. I’m not sorry. I’m glad you find me annoying. I don’t want to be liked by you.”