Fatal Alignment Ch. 04

The young man cleared his throat. Or gagged. Matteo wasn't sure, and didn't care much to ponder it. "My Lord..." the high-pitched words came out like a moan. "Th-the King wished to pass along a message he received late last night."

"Oh?" A milky white fingertip traced the blood-soaked arm of his chair as he rested his chin on the palm of his opposite hand. His dark hair fell in straight lines just past the curve of his jaw. Had it not been for the bright red of his pouted lips, and the small splashes of crimson sprinkled against the paleness of his skin, he would have looked like a portrait deprived of color.

"Yes," the young man replied, rather unsteadily. "King Venlen Astaril has sent word that he wishes to make amends. He is requesting an audience with his Majesty and Prince Killian upon his arrival."

Matteo chuckled. "Is he, now? How very delightful." He dragged his thumb across his chin, feeling the shallow scar where it cut across the very bottom of his lips as they curved up into a smile. So, Venlen had decided to make a sacrifice of himself. He was almost disappointed. The man had such strength, such potential. Matteo could never honestly claim that he felt any love for his adopted sons, but Venlen had managed to gain something akin to his affection. He did not relish the thought of watching as his most promising child was torn to shreds. Then again, nor did he dread it.

Ah, well. As disappointing as Venlen had turned out, it wasn't why he had whispered the suggestion of vengeance into King Jax's ear. No, his was an altogether different target. A target he had ensured would come to him, giftwrapped and ripe for the taking, by the very man he planned to usurp.

"Shall I return any message, my Lord?" the young messenger asked. Ignoring him, Matteo flicked his fingers dismissively toward the door, never even bothering to cast a glance his way. There were few who could stomach the direct strength of his gaze, who could look into the darkness that had swallowed everything inside of him until even the whites of his eyes had turned black, without shrinking from him. Those same soulless eyes had never left the bloody scene in front of him, one that was now wearing his patience thin. Rylan was taking his time, and while he might encourage that now and then, he discovered that on this night, he was not, in fact, in the mood for a dragged-out encore.

"Finish her, Rylan," he barked impatiently, "or I will."

Relaxing back into his chair once more, he watched the end of the performance.

.........................

Killian was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything besides the little monster he kept wrapped in his arms for most of the day. While he might blame his lack of focus on the strange, dark pull of the Redlands, he couldn't fool himself into believing that was truly the only reason. Eoin, likewise, could not be tricked into thinking it was anything other than Killian's growing warmth toward the halfling they were supposed to be delivering to her doom.

It was a thought Killian could hardly stomach anymore, and one he tried his hardest not to acknowledge. Yet, with each passing mile spent with her small body pressed firmly against his, and every night spent around the fire, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest, he brought her closer and closer to unimaginable suffering and eventual death. And no amount of false indifference could change that.

That insidious, bothersome voice in the back of his mind that had proven so problematic just days ago had fallen conspicuously silent. And though he wasn't quite ready to acknowledge it, he knew the reason why.

"You're losing your fucking mind, Kill," Eoin growled, catching his Prince and Commander once again enthralled by the sight of the Fae's sleeping form. Killian looked up, meeting the icy blue gaze of his second in command, his best friend. Eoin had stood by him at his worst moments, when he could have blamed Killian and Killian alone for the death of his own betrothed, since it was his plans for change that had been the catalyst that had drawn Venlen into their lives.

Eoin deserved his rage. He deserved his revenge. And yet...

"There is another way," Killian said softly, finally voicing aloud the thoughts that had plagued him since he'd dragged her limp form away from the pain Eoin had dealt her with blow after unapologetic blow.

"I knew it. I fucking knew it," Eoin snarled, running his hand through the cornsilk strands of his hair.

"Listen -"

"No, Kill. You fucking listen. There is no other fucking way." Eoin was seething, his chest heaving with every angry breath. "This is happening. This is fucking happening, Killian, and you will not take this away from me!"

"She doesn't deserve this, Eoin, you know that."

"Oh, and Eva did? Ivana deserved to be carved up and tortured? Eva deserved to watch her best friend die before her throat was fucking slit?!"

"No, of course not, but -"

"Then I'm confused, Kill. I'm really fucking confused, because two weeks ago, you were ready to make it right. You were ready to give Venlen exactly what he deserves, and now, because that bitch has managed to get under your skin -"

"Watch it, Eoin," he warned.

"You want the spoiled fucking brat? Then take her, Kill. Fuck the bitch out of your system, the gods know the little slut will open her legs wide for -"

Eoin's tirade was cut off by a hand collared tightly around his throat. Killian moved closer, until the two men were nose to nose. "You will never speak of her like that again, do you fucking understand me?"

Crazed defiance sparked like twin aquamarine jewels in the depths of Eoin's eyes. He continued to hold his friend's gaze, stubbornly refusing to submit. Killian growled and shoved him away, sending the smaller man stumbling backwards and gasping for breath. He watched as Eoin straightened, glaring at him, the threat of further violence evident in the taut strain of his stance.

With a gut-churning realization, Killian understood that his friend was now lost to him. Eoin was so immersed in his hatred; he would never see Adrika as anything but a weapon to be used against her father. To Eoin, she was a means to an end, and nothing more. If Killian pushed him, he would break. He would lash out, and he would do what he thought was necessary to bring Eva peace, and Adrika...

Adrika would be lost to him. Forever.

"You're right," he said softly, lifting his hands with his palms up in a gesture of surrender. "She's... a distraction. And she made me feel... something."

"It isn't real, Kill."

"I know. I know that. In the end, she means nothing. Her life is still forfeit."

"It's the only way, my friend."

Killian nodded slowly. "Yes. It's the only way."

A small sound, a soft shuffling and the barest hint of a shuddering inhale, sounded from behind him. Killian closed his eyes.

Fuck.

Slowly, he turned around.

What he saw in Adrika's eyes was indescribable. He felt like all the breath had been forced from his lungs. Those bold, clear pools of midnight, speckled with bright sparks of emerald, held such deep sorrow and resignation, it took every ounce of his strength to hold her gaze and not look away.

"Ri..." he started. But what could he say? The half-formed plan in his mind relied on Eoin believing they were moving forward, down the same path. That they would show up to Matteo's compound with the halfling princess on a leash. Anything he said now could ruin the one chance he had.

"Go ahead, your highness," she said, her voice sickeningly void of all emotion. He would have taken her anger, her defiance. He would have taken her infuriating stubbornness, her quick tongue, her fiery attitude. He would have taken anything besides her dead, empty words. "Aren't you going to try to fuck me? Get me out of your system?"

When he said nothing, she merely shook her head and walked calmly back to her bedroll, her silken hair a chimera of colors reflecting the flames of the campfire. He watched her curl up into a tight little ball facing away from him as Eoin came to stand at his side. He felt his fingers digging into the skin of his palm as he clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides.

"It's almost over, Kill." Eoin moved to put his hand on his shoulder, and he jerked away instinctively. If Eoin touched him right now, he might lose control and kill the blue-eyed bastard on the spot.

"I'll take first watch," he said, suppressing a frustrated growl. "Get some rest, Eoin." He began stalking away from the fire. Under his breath, he murmured, "you're going to need it."

..............................................

Braelen watched on sadly as the quite large, quite angry Prince stormed right past where she sat perched on a flat rock at the periphery of their campsite. Eoin, the overgrown bully that he was, smiled smugly as he settled down, no doubt expecting merry dreams of victory and conquest. The Dreamwalker smirked. Not fucking likely, boy-o.

She waited until the Prince settled down, his back resting against one of the red-barked gentle giants, before she dared to move. Her eidolon, the spectral part of her that broke off to travel while her physical body slept on, was not visible to the untrained eye, but her movements could be tracked if one knew what to watch for. And she had discovered, much to her dismay, that Adrika was not the only one with the ability to recognize her eidolon for what it was.

On silent feet, she glided through the slowly dying flames until Adrika's huddled form lay at her feet. Crouching down, she gently brushed a strand of hair from her friend's forehead. "Away you go, little monster," she whispered, giggling inwardly at the Prince's apt name for her mischievous childhood accomplice. "You have places to visit this night."

Sitting back on her heels, she watched calmly as Adrika left her physical form and followed the path she had set for her. She had known, ever since laying her hand on Laiyla's flat stomach all those years ago, when Adrika had been just a tiny spark of hungry light, that what lay nestled in the Fae Seeker's womb was something special, something ancient and powerful and other. Something that could change everything.

It hurt her heart to witness what Adrika would have to suffer through. If there had been any other way, Braelen would have seen it, and would have nudged things toward the easier, softer path. But something so important as what lay ahead could only be reached one way.

Yes, Adrika would endure terrible, dark things. And yes, she would carry that darkness with her through all of her days. But in the end...

In the end...

When all that remained on the bedroll in front of her was Adrika's physical self, Braelen's eidolon slowly turned back toward the fire, rising gracefully to silent feet. A few quick paces led her to Bastard Blue's unconscious form. She smirked as she crouched down and pressed three fingers to his smooth brow, watching as his features twisted into a look that suggested the dear male was constipated. "Sweet dreams, boy-o." As her eidolon drifted away, back toward where her body waited, she found that she felt no guilt at all.

.......................................

A small nip of a crisp, chill breeze chased away some of the warmth bathing her exposed skin. Adrika's eyes fluttered open, squinting at the afternoon sun casting golden shadows across the small clearing she found herself in. She slowly sat up, stretching her muscles in the warmth like a cat. Beside her, the surface of a lake with waters as black as pitch rippled in response to the gentle wind. Tall evergreens surrounded the clearing on all sides, creating a tight barrier that invoked an inexplicable feeling of safety.

Somehow, though she found herself in an unfamiliar place during an unexpected time, she didn't feel at all confused or frightened. Something, though... something was missing...

"You do not wear the bracelet while you are here," a soft voice said from behind her. She turned and locked eyes with a male that was simply... lovely.

He was tall; at least two heads taller than Adrika. His black hair seemed to swallow the light from the afternoon sun, and his eyes were of such a peculiar color, she found she could not name the exact shade. It looked like... moonlight. His face was a study of sharp lines and jagged edges, and the effect, though it should have been intimidating or fearful, was oddly the opposite; when he smiled, nothing but warmth and kindness radiated from his entire being. And presently, he was beaming at Adrika.

"Oh, sweet child, I have been waiting a very long time to meet you," he crooned, a delighted twinkle in his odd, moonlight eyes. "You are even more beautiful than your mother."

She could not hold back the smile that spread across her face. After weeks with two men who despised her for things out of her control, it was a welcome reprieve to meet someone who was actually glad to see her.

"You know my mother?" she asked tentatively.

A bit of sorrow slipped into his smile, and his eyes darkened a shade, as if a cloud had passed over them, though the clearing remained bright and warm. "I knew your mother," he corrected, "before I came to the Fade."

She looked around. "Is that where we are? The Fade?" Had she died? Had Killian decided not to waste any more time with her, to simply dispatch her where she slept? The thought did not incite the panic she would have expected.

"No... not exactly," the male said. "This place is special. Only you and your mother are allowed here. And a very select few from the Fade, when necessary. It's a... a resting place, of sorts. Your soul calls it to you in times of great suffering."

"I don't understand." She shook her head, trying to clear it. She remembered the awful conversation she'd overheard. Gods, she'd been so stupid. Over the past few days, Killian had been... Well, he'd been kind. Kind, and funny, and a tiny bit charming. With nothing else to do besides obsess about what was awaiting her at the end of their journey, she had been drawn into conversation with him. At first, it was just nonsense. He had asked her about little, inconsequential things, things that seemed harmless enough. Her favorite color (mossy green), her favorite food (dragonfruit), her favorite constellation (the seven sisters).

Somehow, those inconsequential, harmless conversational topics turned into something more. He'd told her about his childhood, about what it was like to grow up as the heir to a great man, a great King. He'd explained how his father's mind had slowly deteriorated, and about his sorrow while he'd watched the painful decline and the effect it had on the kingdom of Karmora. In turn, she had told him about her life at the cabin. About her friends, and the games they used to play down at the jetty. About Sonya and her soups and her unique way of communicating. About Amlen and her lessons with the burlap dummy. When he'd asked about her mother, she had nearly come apart at the seams. She'd never been far from her mother for longer than half a day. She missed her fiercely, and the thought of never seeing her again... It nearly destroyed her.

Killian had done the strangest thing that day. As if he'd understood her, as if he'd cared about her, he'd wrapped his arms around her tightly and turned her head into the crook of his arm as silent sobs wracked her body.

Shhh, little monster, he'd whispered, his lips soft and warm against her temple. It's okay. It'll be okay.

Lies. All lies. Despite the tranquility of the autumnal clearing, she felt the anger swell up in her like a dark wave at sea. And yet... although it had hurt to hear Killian say what he did, that she meant nothing, that he was still going through with whatever plan he had for her, she hadn't exactly suffered.

"No, this time, it's a freebie. I called to you."

The man could read her mind.

He chuckled at her dramatic expression of outrage. "No, I can't read your mind. You wear your thoughts on your face much too clearly."

She grunted in response, which just drew another melodious chuckle from the male.

"Who are you?" she asked, feeling herself fall back into the pull of tranquility.

"My name is Syrus. I knew and loved your mother before she was bonded to your father. In a very strange way, in my last meeting with Laiyla, she sent me back to the Fade. Back to my prevveda, my soulmate. She carries the guilt of that meeting with her to this day. When you see her, you must tell her to forgive herself. I died the only way fate would have me, and I was returned to my greatest love in reward."

"I will tell her," Adrika said solemnly, as if being entrusted with a great task. Her mother had many secrets and carried so much pain with her. Taking some of that away was a duty she would take seriously.

A thought occurred to her. "If that's the reason you brought me here, I'm not sure I'll be able to do what you ask." She looked down at the tangle of her fingers. "I've been taken. Used as a means for vengeance. The men I'm with... they want me to pay for the evil my father had done to them. I might not ever see my mother again." The back of her eyes burned with the threat of tears.

A finger slipped below her chin and lifted her face... up and up into those strange, moonlight eyes. "I know all about the men you are with, child. I know all about what has been done to you, and what will be done to you. Just as you know," he tapped a finger against her nose, in a nearly playful gesture, "all about how save yourself, when the time comes. Don't you?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "That would be... very dangerous," she said slowly.

"Dangerous, yes." He nodded sagely. "Dangerous, but necessary."

"I don't know how to control it," she admitted. "It might kill everyone. It might kill me."

"And that, my little monster, is the real reason you are here."

...............................

Laiyla leaned her elbows against the taffrail surrounding the main deck, watching the churning of the dark sea below. If she closed her eyes, she could see great bursts of light emanating from the giant creatures below, but without her connection to the land, her own glow was dampened and dimmed.

She hated this. Oh, the sea was majestic and wondrous, with all its deep, dark secrets. But the route from Prevaria to Karmora was long and arduous, and she felt helpless and small. And the knowledge of what might have to happen, what she might have to sacrifice to get her daughter back, certainly was not helping matters. Neither was the raucous mayhem that came with having nearly one hundred of Venlen's best soldiers on board, though she wasn't about to truly complain about that. Those soldiers, once cursed by her grandmother and trapped in perpetual midnight, had been changed somehow. Enhanced, one might say. Their aging seemed to have stopped, or at least greatly slowed, given that both Amlen and Venlen looked not a day older than when Laiyla had first been taken by them. Their senses were also heightened, and there were times when Laiyla could swear they reacted to some sound or movement just a moment too soon.

A dark, familiar presence suddenly surrounded her, and she leaned back, taking in the smell of cinnamon and leather. Venlen's arms closed around her like a cage, one wrapped across her waist and the other against her chest. "Come to bed, keoni vey," he said softly against her ear, leaving a shiver to crawl up her spine.

"I can't sleep," she argued, although she found herself growing tired with his warmth wrapped around her.