The Lionheart (The Harbinger Book 4) Read online

  Would Faith wish to return to her world? Or would she want to remain here?

  Dracyrus scowled as he returned to the small clearing where Light and Jag sat, bickering amongst themselves as to the quickest route to Aetherium. A land full of aether, it would be dangerous for them if they came across any open veins of the stuff. Aether was magic in its rawest form. It had to be why the Fae were so attuned to magic, the one race able to cast freely at will. The Elves had a bit, but nowhere as much.

  Dracyrus sat on the ground, glowering at the other two. “Have either of you been to the Aetherium?” Their blank looks told him all he needed to know. Truly, it was a wonder that neither of them were dead yet, strangled in their sleep by his clawed hands. How Faith handled them, he had no idea. “No? Then why don’t you both follow my lead instead of arguing amongst yourselves?”

  The Malus frowned at him, muttering, “You know, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I like Finn better than I like him.” His blue eyes looked to the Elf for backup, reassurance that his feelings for Dracyrus were not blown out of proportion.

  Light nodded. “You can hate them both, Jag. I do.”

  How juvenile, but Dracyrus supposed that was what came with semi-eternal life. He’d seen countless of years, lived longer than that, so many things seemed juvenile and foolish to him. Including Faith—yet another reason he had no idea why he felt such things toward her. She was brash, inexperienced, and young. The opposite of what he thought he admired in a female. But here he was, with two males from her nethellel, in search of her.

  Where the other two males were, he hadn’t a clue, and he didn’t care. One thing at a time. If Faith wished to find them after they’d reunited, then they would. They would figure it out when they reached the impasse; Faith would come first, however.

  Dracyrus supposed he should tell them precisely how they were connected, that he could see her, touch her, even across distances, that she could even bring him into her dreams, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to. Perhaps he was being selfish, trying to keep a part of her to himself. It was not how things worked in a nethellel, everyone was a part of the group, all equal, but technically he was not a part of their group yet. Faith had not invited him, nor had her men accepted him.

  It would be a long process, considering who he was, the things he’d done. Dracyrus was not looking for forgiveness, not searching for repentance. He did not want to apologize for the things he’d done, for he did them all out of necessity. This was not his redemption; he would not change for anyone, even Faith.

  At least, he didn’t think so. If he changed, if he ever apologized for what he did, he would do it only because he wanted to, not because someone else asked it of him. Dracyrus was not the type of man who bowed to anyone…

  Unless that someone was Faith.

  To her, he would bow. He would get on his knees and beg. He would do anything to feel those soft, small hands on his body, on his horns. Dracyrus’s mind had started to wander to a place it shouldn’t, not while he was in the vicinity of Jag and Light, so he forced his mind to think of something else. It was near impossible for him to do it, though. The only thing his mind wished to think of was Faith.

  Faith.

  By the fires of Furen, he would get her back, and her memory shortly after.

  Chapter Seven

  Being a Human in the land of the Fae was not something Faith was used to. Then again, she wasn’t used to many things, considering her memory still hadn’t returned. The village Swift and Foresh led her to was unnamed; she was told the Fae no longer named their cities, out of some habit. Or maybe it was because their cities and villages were built in the fallen ruins of their old castles.

  This particular village was small. Some had set up tents, others chose to live in the decrepit stone that still stood—which wasn’t much. Pink vines had grown over most of it, flowers sprouting from its ends. The place held sad memories, but it was a bustling village, full of Fae who seemed happy.

  Of course, every Fae stopped whatever it was they were doing when they saw Faith walk by with Swift and Foresh. She fumbled to keep the cape closed around her torso, unsure if any of them could see through Swift’s illusion. She needed real clothes, and she needed them now.

  Fae were a short people, their bone structure thin and lithe. Their eyes were every color of the rainbow, slightly larger than a Human’s. The bridges of their noses had less of a dip; some of them had a straight line down from their forehead to the tip of their noses. Women and men alike had long hair, just like both had short hair. Most wore leather, though some looked like they wore old, holey clothes.

  Swift had told her their kingdom had fallen ages ago. They’d sided with a Harbinger, a man fated to fight the Dread King Dracyrus, because the Harbinger had taken a Fae lover. Got her pregnant. Dracyrus had crushed them.

  Yet another reason Faith kept the whole seeing-the-Dread-King thing to herself. She’d known the moment she saw him that he was a bad man; she just didn’t know how bad. Not at the time. He was a monster of unmatched proportions, and she had to keep hating him. She couldn’t let her body call the shots. Whatever weird attraction she felt toward him had to cease to be. It should be simple.

  But it wasn’t.

  Things never were as simple as they should be.

  “We’ll get you clothed,” Swift spoke, shooting her a wink. “And then there’s another village not too far from here Hart wants us to take you to.” Beside him, Foresh was silent, sullen and gloomy almost, as if he wasn’t looking forward to the extra stop.

  Faith wanted to ask why it was so important to make all of these stops before going to meet the Lionheart, but usually the two Fae were good at dodging her questions and answering them without really answering, so she kept quiet, nodding along. They’d tell her eventually. Or Hart would. One or the other. Patience was a virtue.

  Patience was apparently one of the harder things for Faith to practice.

  Inside a crumbled building, various fabrics hung on the stone walls, colorful and vibrant. Though the building had no roof, a tarp was drawn across it to stave off the rain and storms, should they come. And they did—Faith was told their lightning was pink. Something she’d like to see. It sounded pretty. The dangerous things usually were. In fact, even though Faith didn’t have her memories, she knew she liked the dangerous things more than the non-dangerous things.

  Her daggers, pink lightning, the Dread King. Yeah, that last one especially. He’d tried to come to her again after that first night, but each and every time Faith did her best to ignore him, especially when Swift and Foresh were nearby. First off, she didn’t want to sound nuts. Secondly, she couldn’t let herself start to like the Dread King. With all of the stories Swift told of him, all the horrors he’d enacted upon the Fae people—just for siding with the Human Harbinger—were unforgivable.

  A female Fae sat on the floor, on a blanket it looked like she hand-stitched herself. Although, everything here looked handmade. No machines around to mass-produce things. As soon as the Fae spotted them inside, she got to her feet, and Faith noticed she was barefoot. She was not the first Fae she’d seen without shoes on.

  “You…” The Fae woman trailed off, blinking her wide, orange eyes. Her hair was a similar color, drawn back in numerous braids, its long length hanging over her right shoulder. She was smaller than Faith, her heart-shaped face tilting in curiosity. She wore a yellow dress, and it almost looked like she had flowers sprouting from its fabric. She was pretty in the way all Fae were, although she stared at Faith a bit too intently for her liking.

  “Hi,” she said quite lamely.

  The Fae woman smiled, and even though she was a stranger, Faith found herself smiling back. She had an infectious grin. “I’m Rose. My mother is gone for today, but I could help dress you…if that’s why you’re here.”

  Swift took the lead, grabbing Rose’s hand and kissing it. “Such a lovely name for a lovely naturalist.”

  Naturalist? Faith wasn’t
sure what it meant, but the look on her face must’ve been enough, for Rose spoke, “I deal with nature. Foster it.” Her orange gaze fell to Faith’s body. In all of the commotion, she forgot to hold it closed after they entered the shop. “Like an illusionist. Or a portaler. Surely you’ve heard of it, since you’re the—”

  Foresh coughed. “Let’s see what you have, yeah? What can you do with her?”

  Rose’s orange eyes darted between Faith, Foresh, and Swift. “Okay. Sure. I’m not as good as my mother, but I can try.” She was still smiling when she looked back at Faith. “What’s your favorite color?”

  Faith was still stuck on whatever just happened, but the randomness of the question startled her. “My…my favorite color?”

  The Fae woman, who, Faith realized, didn’t look much older than her, giggled. “Yes, your favorite color. You do have one, don’t you? Almost everyone does.” She took a step closer to Faith, standing a few inches shorter than her. “Your eyes are beautiful. They’d pop even more if you were wearing a dark purple.”

  Not sure whether she liked the Fae woman standing so close, Faith managed a smile as she said, “Then a dark purple it is.”

  Rose nodded, rushing to the wall behind them and nabbing a line of purple cloth. “You two can go. Come back in a few hours.”

  Hours? This was going to take hours? Faith’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. The last thing she wanted to do was spend hours being fitted for whatever clothing the Fae would make. Although, she reminded herself, it would be better than walking around naked with illusioned clothes.

  Swift didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed Foresh’s hand, who scowled at him, and said, “We’ll be back later then.” They walked out of the crumbling shop, leaving Faith alone with Rose.

  Rose went to the doorway, standing on her tiptoes and reaching for the large cloth tucked between two stones. As she pulled it, it fell over the opening of the doorway, blocking them out from the rest of the collapsed city. Faith couldn’t imagine living like this. How in the world was this place a home?

  Standing before her, Rose kept smiling. “I never imagined you’d be so pretty,” she said. “And your eyes…it really is like you’re one of us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Rose said nothing as she reached for the cape tied around Faith’s neck. When she spoke, she did not answer the question, “Let’s see what I have to work with.” Her lithe fingers pulled at the strings, undoing it, letting the cape fall to the ground.

  Faith was only a little self-conscious as she stood there, pretty much naked, before Rose. She resisted the urge that crept over her to cross her arms, to try to cover herself. Could Rose see through the illusion?

  She nodded once. “I can definitely work with that.” When her orange eyes flicked back up, she focused on Faith’s nose. “Did that hurt?”

  “What?”

  Lifting an arm, Rose gently touched a small metal dot in Faith’s nose.

  “Oh,” Faith paused, “I actually don’t remember.” She was about to touch her nose piercing, having forgotten all about it, when Rose grabbed her wrist, turning it to view the dagger tattoo on its soft, inner skin.

  Her fingers were so small and tender as they ran over the design. Her touch did not summon a dagger in Faith’s hand. “You have magic in you,” Rose whispered. “I can sense it.” She released her wrist, getting to work, using a string to measure Faith’s body.

  She could sense it? Faith wondered. Could she sense the magical tattoos, or was there something else about her she could sense?

  Rose started to hum a beautiful melody as she worked, cutting the fabric to size. She seemed to be working fast, and Faith hated how useless she felt. She decided to make small talk, “So you’re a naturalist.”

  “I am, after my mother. My father…” Rose’s voice grew quiet.

  “Your father what?”

  “Before our kingdom fell, it was frowned upon to be with another Fae if you were a Fae. If you’re pure-blooded, you might be powerful, but society will always look down on you. Mating with other races was thought to bring their best traits into our society. Now, it’s a bit different, since most Fae left the Aetherium and went to your world, but the stigma remains.” As if her explanation wasn’t enough, Rose added, “My father was a Fae, too. A portaler. I can portal, but not that well.”

  “Was?”

  “He’s dead now, for quite a few years.”

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” Faith knew nothing good came from small talk; she wanted to smack herself in the face. Leave it to her to find the quickest route to talking about death.

  Rose shrugged. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. You’re not like the other Fae, so I feel more comfortable talking about it with you than I would with them. They all know, anyway. It’s why you’ll be the only one in today. When my mother takes off, no one comes in.”

  “Doesn’t that hurt business?” Faith glanced over her shoulder, watching as Rose lifted a hand over a pink vine that had pushed inside through the stone. The vine started growing thicker, sprouting more offshoots and flowers.

  “What business?” Rose looked at her, her magic stopping temporarily. “We don’t charge for any of this. We do it to help others, even if they don’t appreciate it. Fae don’t have…what’s the word?”

  “Money?” Faith offered. “Currency? Coin?”

  Rose giggled. It was a sweet sound that put Faith’s anxieties at ease. “Yes,” she said. “Those words.”

  The time passed quickly. During the time, Faith and Rose talked, almost like friends. Like they’d known each other longer than today. Faith felt comfortable with her, which was a nice switch. Nothing against Swift and Foresh, but those two were a little odd. Rose felt normal, like home, like best friend material.

  Did Faith have a best friend, wherever she was from? And if she did, did her best friend miss her?

  When Rose had everything cut and measured, she used her magic, helped the vine to grow and thin, crawl into the fabric and become a seam. A shirt and pants, from the look of it, which was good. The last thing Faith needed was to go gallivanting around the land wearing a dress like the one Rose wore. Granted, Rose looked good in it, but Faith wasn’t a flowering, sunny sort of person.

  “Here,” Rose said, offering Faith the shirt and pants. “Put these on, tell me how they fit. It’s going to be hard to judge, since the illusion is still present. Should’ve asked him to end it before kicking them out.”

  That would mean she would’ve been naked for the last two hours. Faith met Rose’s orange stare just in time to notice the blush creeping up the woman’s neck.

  “Let me get started on the shoes,” Rose was busy talking to herself, her back to Faith. Which was good, Faith supposed, because she wasn’t sure how to respond to her previous statement about asking Swift to end the illusion of her clothes.

  Then again, it was insanely hard to decide whether she liked the clothes the Fae made her or not, since it was like fitting them on over a hologram. They felt soft and smooth though, so she supposed that’s all that mattered. As long as they wouldn’t chafe, because she’d be doing a lot more walking in the near future. Her legs would be like rocks, calves stronger than any soccer player.

  As Rose worked on the shoes, using a type of leather that hung on the other side of the room, she asked, “How do they feel?”

  “They feel nice,” Faith said, running her hands down her sides, over the bottom of the shirt and the sides of the pants. At least she didn’t feel so naked anymore.

  Once Rose had finished the shoes, which were more like boots, Faith felt a bit more like herself and less like an imposter pretending to be her. If only she could admire Rose’s work, but Swift’s illusion was still in place.

  Rose bent to pick up the cape, holding it at arm’s length with a disgusted expression on her face. “This is old,” she said. “And smelly. Would you like to keep it?” Just from the expression on the Fae’s face, Faith knew the woman expected
her to get rid of it.

  Maybe she should. It was just a cape, after all. Nothing too important to her. But if that was true, why did Faith feel a stab of guilt in her gut when she thought of telling Rose to throw it out? Why couldn’t she picture her nights without sleeping curled up inside of it? That cape, wherever she’d gotten it, was the only thing she had from her life before.

  So, no. No, she couldn’t get rid of it. To do so would be to rid herself of her last link to her old life. What if Faith remembered who she was, and that cape was a gift from her dying father or something? What if it belonged to a boyfriend? Or what if it was just a really expensive Halloween costume? Expensive Halloween costumes were something one kept forever, because one had to get one’s money’s worth out of it, right?

  “Yes,” Faith said. “I want to keep it.”

  Rose nodded. “How about I clean it for you?” She brought it to her nose, recoiling as she sniffed the fur. “I think I can smell the fall of kingdoms on this.”

  “Oh, come on,” Faith laughed. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

  “I am being one hundred percent serious—” Rose looked like she wanted to say more, but it was at that moment when two Fae men entered the room, pushing past the cloth door. Swift and Foresh. “Ignoring that you should’ve asked if we were ready,” she scolded them, “undo the illusion so I can see my work. It’ll be nowhere near as good as what my mother could’ve done, but I did my best—”

  “Ah, yes! Let’s see!” Swift clapped, pointing at Faith. “There you go.”

  Faith glanced down, holding in a gasp. The clothes were a dark purple, but they looked like they were freshly bought off a rack at a store in the mall. The vine seams added a bit of pink, a splash of color to the otherwise purple ensemble. Short sleeves, a neckline that showed a bit of her cleavage. It looked like any regular shirt, which surprised her.

  And the pants…they fit her legs perfectly, snug and curving with her body with no need for a belt. Faith felt confident in the outfit, something she hadn’t felt in a while, at least while her memories were gone. She felt badass, like cracking whips and taking names. Hmm. Maybe she was a badass—or maybe she’d like to be.