Ch. 7: The Warning

by JMiaDavies

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AMBERLY

I can’t really see where I’m going. Tears are blurring my vision, and I’m so damn tired and disoriented that I’m stumbling into everything. All I know is that I need to get away from that bedroom. Away from Lorcan, really, because I can’t face him right now.

The thing is, I know he’s right. Even if I was too proud to admit it at the moment, I know I am training too hard.

I also know that I’ve been neglecting him, too—even if I forced myself to deny it. So when he finally shoved the reality in my face, my first instinct was to deflect. To tell him to man up when, really, I know I would be feeling the exact same way as him were the roles reversed. Hell, I would be furious as well, so who am I to go around criticizing him?

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. But then again, what choice do I have? I cannot afford to give time to anything but my training at the moment, because if I don’t master this, how am I supposed to save everyone when the time comes?

Guilt rises to my throat, but I push it down before it can take hold. I’m already feeling exhausted as is. I don’t need to lump more things onto that, least of all guilt. I can deal with that tomorrow.

I stagger into one of the many drawing rooms in the palace, and upon seeing the large and empty sunbed, I decide it will do and virtually collapse onto it. The material is cold, but I shuffle up into the corner, curling into a tight ball as I cry silently into the cushions.

I shut my eyes. Although a large part of me wants to stay awake to throw a pity party for myself, I am too damn exhausted for that. But as the cold air nips at my skin and sends shivers rolling through my body, I realize sleep will not come easy, and within minutes I find myself missing Lorcan’s warmth.

I tuck my knees tighter to my chest. Even if it’s cold out here, there is no way in hell that I am going back to that bedroom. Perhaps it is pride, or perhaps it is cowardice, but I just cannot bear to be near Lorcan right now.

Or, maybe, I just cannot stand to be near the truth.

At that moment, something shifts under the drawing room’s archway, and I lift my head to see a male’s silhouette. The bond in my chest swells, and I don’t need to look at his face to know it’s Lorcan, looking utterly deflated.

My heart twists. For many moments, we just remain there in silence, staring at each other in the dark. Then, I turn over, determined to block him out despite him being right there. Despite knowing that I owe him an apology.

1

He comes closer. I don’t hear him; it’s more that I sense him, just as I’m always able to sense wherever he is relative to my position. The soft cushion behind me sinks and he climbs on, and a moment later a warm, fluffy blanket is thrown over my body.

1

I shudder and clutch the blanket tighter to my body. I don’t resist as Lorcan slides his arms around me and tugs my back to his chest, nuzzling his face into my hair. He feels so damn warm and nice and familiar, and before I know it, I’m crying again.

“Please don’t cry, lionheart,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to my temple. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it.”

Something about that undoes me. Like a dam breaking apart, the emotions spill over, and before I know it I’m wracked with sobs.

“No…” I choke out, twisting to face him. His eyes meet mine and I find only love there. Only love and utter adoration. Another sob rips from my throat. “I’m sorry. You’re right, Lorcan, I’ve been selfish. I’ve been neglecting you and ignoring you and that’s horrible of me. I know I’ve been training a lot but I should have spared some time for you each day.” I swallow thickly. “I’m really, really sorry, Lorcan. You have every right to feel the way you do.”

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“I just… I just wish it could be easier,” I rasp. “I don’t like this. I hate being tired all the damn time. It just feels like I don’t have any other option, though.”

Once again, he doesn’t say anything. He just presses a tender kiss to my forehead, and I loosen a shuddering sigh.

“I love you, Lorcan.”

“I know, lionheart. I know.” His throat bobs. “I love you too. So much. It’s because I love you that I want you to be happy and healthy, you know?”

“I know.” My eyes sting. “I know.”

For several long moment’s we’re silent. I find myself snuggling into him—into his warmth—and something occurs to me.

“How did you know to bring a blanket?”

I feel him smile against my forehead. “It’s almost winter, lionheart. I knew you’d be freezing out here.”

“It’s not that cold.”

“Is it not?” At that, he lifts the blanket, and I scramble towards him for more warmth. He drops the blanket and chuckles.

I smile reluctantly. “You’re wicked,” I say.

“No. I just know when to call your bluff.” At that, he presses another kiss to my forehead, and my insides melt into a puddle. Gods, this feels so nice and warm.

We fall into a comfortable silence again.

“Lionheart?”

“Yes?”

“Please promise me you’ll take tomorrow off? The full day, I mean.”

I press a tender kiss to the underside of his jaw. “No. I’ll take three days off and spend them all with you. I want to make up for neglecting you. I feel so bad about that.”

For a moment, he does nothing. Then he chokes and crushes me to his chest. “Gods, I love you.”

“I love you too.” I pause. “Don’t you want to head back to the bedroom?”

Lorcan considers this for a moment.

“No,” he eventually says, pressing another kiss to my forehead. “I quite like it here.”

Smiling, I nestle back into the curve of him and allow his warmth to drag me into slumber. I’m almost fully asleep when Lorcan loosens a loud gasp.

“Amberly…”

My eyes snap open, and at first I am overwhelmed by the light searing into the backs of my retinas. Is it morning already?

But that’s when I see that the light is not coming from the windows, but rather my own skin. It burns with this white, intense glow that lights up Lorcan’s entire face, and I can see him staring at me in wonder.

I stare down at myself, stunned, and a thought occurs to me.

I hold out my palm in the small space before us just as I have many times before, but instead of my magic staying stubbornly in my core, it flows out, rising and bursting out my skin in a ray of pure, pale light.

I extinguish it and stare at Lorcan. He stares back at me. I open my mouth to say something, and so does he, and yet words leave neither of us.

Then, we both burst out laughing. Laughing out of relief, at the conflict that seems so insignificant now that I have finally summoned my light.

And when I snuggle again into his arms, I fall asleep quickly, eager to greet the god that awaits me.

***

When I find myself back in the dark space of my psyche, I feel the ghost of a smile on my face.

“What took you so long?” I drawl, staring around for the Lion. I can’t see him anywhere in the dark expanse.

“No, the real question is”—the Lion steps out from behind a black wall, seeming to appear from thin air—”what took you so long.”

Embarrassment heats my core. “Well…”

“It seems you tend to forget that your strength lies in your love for others. Let me guess—you were locking yourself away until your mate finally convinced you to stop?”

I sense my cheeks go red. “Shut up,” I say, but I don’t follow it up with any retort because we both know he’s right. A feline smile captures his maw.

“You have to tell me more about the Wicked One,” I say urgently. The Lion bows his head.

“Indeed. But to understand the Wicked One’s motivations, I must tell you about the artifacts first.”

I blink. “‘Artifacts’?”

“Yes. The Wicked One is a very powerful entity, you see. Ten thousand years ago, she came to our world with the intent to destroy it. She’s an evil goddess with the power to transverse realms, you see. She can kill entire magical races with her magic alone, and when she does, she gains their magic.”

“There are more magical races?”

“Yes, but they are from different worlds, so beings such as you and I cannot reach them.” He loosens a low growl. “The Wicked One is an exception. She can rip the fabric between worlds and jump between them. And, ten thousand years ago, she infiltrated ours with one goal: to destroy the entire Fae race and steal our magic, and she almost succeeded.”

I swallow thickly. “What stopped her?”

His jade-green eyes rise to mine.

“The gods and their Lightweavers. They could not kill the Wicked One—she was simply too powerful—but they could take pieces of her magic and store them away, so that she’s never be able to access them again.

“And so, the artifacts were created—objects which could contain her dark magic. There was, however, one caveat to creating an artifact.”

“And what was that?”

“In order to contain such powerful magic within a small object, it required something to keep it locked in there. A keeper. A sacrifice. The gods had to seal themselves inside the artifacts in order to lock her magic away.”

My jaw drops open. “And that’s why you all disappeared?”

The Lion nods gravely. “Yes. We did not simply abandon like the Fae are so eager to believe. No, quite the opposite. We sacrificed ourselves for the greater good.”

There’s an undercurrent of hurt in his voice, but I remain silent. In fact, I remain silent for a long time.

“If the Wicked One ever discovers the locations of these artifacts,” the Lion murmurs, “she will break the gods’ seals and take her magic back. They have been hidden well—the Wicked One has been roaming this earth for ten millennia and has yet to discover even one—but it will only be a matter of time before she does. Before she realizes one of the artifacts sits right under her very nose.”

My heart sinks. “What do you mean?”

He once again raises his eyes to mine. “I’m speaking about my artifact. I am still sealed within it, you see. The only reason even a part of me exists outside of it is because my sister—the Stag—imbued me with a great portion of her magic, allowing a part of me to exist outside of it. To find you when the time came.”

My voice is shaky as I ask, “And what is your artifact?”

“You already know what it is. It was held at your throat not long ago.”

“The Witch Queen’s sword,” I whisper. “But that’s with…”

“The witches, I know.” He shifts uncomfortably. “I wish I’d known earlier, but it’s been modified to the point where I did not even recognize it when I first saw it.”

“So how do we get it back?”

“We have to retrieve it from them, and soon. The Wicked One only has very small amounts of her magic as of now, so she cannot sense her artifacts, however she can identify them if she touches them. I suspect it will only be a matter of time before she realizes what the sword is.” He pauses. “You have to do this, Amberly. If she undoes the seal and reclaims the magic from even just one artifact, she’ll be able to sense where the others are, and we’ll lose our only advantage. This is crucial.”

“And what happens when she gets all her magic back?”

“Exactly what she originally set out to do: destroy the entire Fae race, along with the rest of the world. Everyone you know and love will be destroyed.”

“Then I need to find it.”

“You do, Amberly, and you need to find it soon.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know much, but I do know that the witches are back in the Queendom, and the sword is with their new queen. Hurry.”

With that, the Lion disappears, and I am pulled back to the surface.

***

My eyes snap open, and the first thing I register is the blood-red sky from outside the palace window. It bleeds like a fresh wound, and the crimson light does little favor for the ominous feeling in my stomach. I sit upright.

“Amberly…?” Lorcan mumbles, and I glance down at him. His eyes break open, and when they land on my face, I must look alarmed because he sits up as well. “Did the Lion…?”

“He contacted me,” I say on a breath. “Lorcan…we’re in greater danger than I thought.” I swallow and begin shuffling towards the other side of the sunbed, heart pounding in my ears. “I need to go to the Witch Queendom. Now.”

“What? Wait, Amberly—” He grasps my hand and pulls me back. I stare at him in shock. “What on earth are you talking about? The Witch Queendom is far too dangerous to go to alone.”

I huff in equal amounts of desperation and frustration. Even so, I keep my voice even and brief as I relay everything the Lion told me to Lorcan—the Wicked One, the artifacts, the sword that now lays dangerously close to the enemy. By the time I’m done, he looks just as alarmed as me.

Even still, his grip on my arm does not loosen. In fact, it only tightens as he says, “You can’t go there, Amberly.”

“What?” I demand. “Lorcan, be serious for a second. We are moments away from the Wicked One discovering the sword’s true identity. If she realizes what it is, we’ll lose this war before it even starts. We have to get the sword back as soon as we can.”

“Not yet, Amberly. We need time—”

“The Lion said—”

“I don’t care what the Lion said,” Lorcan says hotly. “Going to the Queendom alone to grab some sword is plain stupid and ruthless. What we need to do is develop a plan and assemble a party for the mission. It’ll only take a few days to organize.”

“‘Days’ is too long,” the Lion growls into my mind.

“That’s the issue,” I say to Lorcan, emboldened by the Lion’s comment. “It will take days. What if she discovers it before then? We need to get that sword out of their possession as soon as possible.”

“A few days will not make a difference,” Lorcan assures me. “You said the Wicked One cannot actually sense the artifacts until she gains her magic back. That would have required her to have found an artifact already, which hasn’t happened. If anything, going in there alone without a plan and failing—which is highly likely—would only alert her to the fact that the sword is an artifact.”

I open my mouth to respond, but I find no words come to my aid because he’s right. If I fail this mission, or if I get caught… wouldn’t it be a dead give-away to what the sword actually is?

“Remember, child,” the Lion grumbles into my mind, “all it will take is for her to touch the sword for her to realize what it is. She cannot sense it yet, sure, but touching it will do enough.”

“What?” Lorcan snaps, and I startle to attention. He’s staring at me oddly, almost irately. “What is he saying now?”

My cheeks burn with embarrassment, but I clear my throat. “He’s saying that if she so much as touches it, she’ll realize what it is.”

“Well, that sword belongs to the royal witch line, so there’s no reason why the Wicked One should be touching it.” He clicks his tongue. “Besides, I know Narcassia. She’s very pedantic when it comes to who can and cannot touch her belongings.”

I open my mouth to refute, but Lorcan just grabs both my hands.

“Please, Amberly—just promise me you won’t go there yet. At least not by yourself. I swear I’ll have a plan done in three days, but you just have to be patient. Can you do that?”

I want to say no, but instead I nod, because what else can I do? Plus, he’s giving me those damn puppy-eyes.

His shoulders relax a fraction. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

Satisfied, Lorcan pulls us both back onto the sunbed and crushes me against his chest. “Come on, let’s get back to sleep. The palace isn’t awake yet.”

I close my eyes, and I try to fall asleep but I find that I can’t. All I feel is this persistent, nagging anxiety—that I am making a mistake by standing idly by.

“Time is running out, sweet child,” the Lion grumbles into my brain. “The world will not save itself.”