MASON
I shoot Kie a sharp look, beyond annoyed, but he only shrugs and continues forward.
"They'll leave once the magic begins to thin," he says.
It's already begun to thin, and the straggler is still following us. I can tell by the uneven footsteps that they're trying to remain quiet, but they're largely unsuccessful. They probably don't know just how good my hearing is.
The faeries outside the capital have little to no experience with my kind, and they continually underestimate my abilities. They think shifters are less than them, and that assumption will be their downfall.
My strength is all mine, but theirs is a product of the magic their bodies can yield. If you remove me from the magic, I remain the same. They crumble.
The magic's already beginning to vanish, and it's only a matter of time before the straggler feels the effects and turns around. I've been thinking that for several hours, though.
Kie walks a few steps ahead of me, leading the way. The elders made him cut his hair short before leaving, a tradition I'm thankfully not expected to follow. Kie wasn't born with the typical blond white hair of the faeries, and I'm sure they were more than happy to cut off his dark blond waves.
I'm sure he's in mourning. He loved it long, and he often wore it in a thick braid down his back.
Now, it curls and ends just below his ears.
Mine is a similar length, but they wanted to shave my head entirely. I enjoyed watching their expressions when I took and broke their shears the moment they tried.
Despite how the faeries feel about it, I take pride in my thick, dark hair.
I was sent to live in the capital with Kie when I was still a child, and my hair is the one thing that brings me connection with my family. I hardly remember my parents' faces or siblings' names, but I know they all had hair like mine.
All shifters do.
Sometimes, when Kie's gotten on my nerves and I long to return home, I look in the mirror and imagine how my younger brothers must look now. I assume they have the same green eyes as me, and they're probably quite large by now.
Both were still just toddlers when I left, and I wonder how many more I have now.
It's not uncommon for shifters to have large families, and as the alpha, my father would've been expected to have even more children than usual.
That's assuming he's still in power.
I imagine our people weren't happy when I was sent to live with the faerie royals. Our kind walked freely among the faeries for hundreds of years, but war after war dwindled our numbers until we were forced into the forest.
The shifters have grown to hate the faeries—and vice versa.
The firstborn alpha shifter of each generation always shares a mate with the firstborn faerie royal. It's a bond that's been ignored since the first war between the faeries and shifters, but my parents sent me as a peace offering.
Our people needed time to recoup and rebuild, and the price was me.
I was old enough to understand the hatred between our kinds, and the second I arrived at court, I went straight for Kie. I thought I could shift into my animal form and kill him before I grew any attachment. The second I touched him, though, my body recognized him as the mate of my mate.
That bond is the only reason he's still alive today.
My lips curl as I recall how every faerie in court watched it happen. Nobody interfered, and I know they enjoyed watching the wild shifter boy fail at killing their prince. Even Kie's mother refused to intervene.
They all knew I wouldn't be able to see it through, and they wanted to watch me realize it, too.
The mate bond is a tricky bitch, and I feel nothing short of humiliation as I recall how my execution attempt ended in me frantically trying to heal the bloody neck of a sobbing six-year-old prince.
Eight-year-old me was frantic, and I'll never forget the fiery agony that spread through my bones as I slapped a hand over Kie's neck to try and clog the puncture wounds. Even as a young boy, my animal form was large.
It was easy to wrap my jaws around Kie's neck and give him a little shake.
Queen Gitta still likes to joke about that day. She's the only faerie whom, besides Kie, I've come to care for, but even I can barely resist the urge to rip out her throat when she brings it up.
That restraint doesn't extend to the other faeries, though.
This straggler included.
It's probably a woman hoping to get Kie and me alone. She couldn't have chosen a worse time.
I drag my fingers through my hair when the straggler trips. The stumble is followed by a clatter and a low grunt. The pitch confirms it's a female, and my lips twitch as even Kie pauses and looks over his shoulder.
She's a horrible tracker.
"She's persistent," Kie mumbles. "I'll give her that."
Persistent isn't the word I'd use to describe her. Fucking annoying is more like it.
Kie continues forward, and I follow. We've only been walking for a few hours, maybe four or five, and the magic surrounding us has already grown thin. The shifters and trolls who stalk the woods know the faeries lose strength as it vanishes, and I must remain alert.
We're taking an untraditional path to the portal, hopefully one that'll lead to minimal fighting.
My parents will have ordered the shifters to stand down for the sake of the treaty between the shifters and faeries, but I doubt all will listen. The trolls will be easy to keep down, but I'm not eager to kill my kind.
I flick a branch out of my way, my black gloves capturing my attention. I was looking forward to finally removing them this trip, but I can't take them off until the straggler is gone.
Kie and I will marry a woman for convenience, and we can't risk touching another and igniting a mate bond. We don't have the privilege of finding our mate, and our black gloves symbolize our disinterest.
Most faeries wear flesh-colored ones, but we've found that women are quicker to get the hint when we wear ones that stand out against our skin. Despite how they beg, plead, and plot, we won't touch them.
I put mine back on the second I caught wind of the straggler. Kie did the same, but he doesn't seem nearly as annoyed as I am.
He never is.
Shaking his head, Kie turns back forward and resumes walking. His eyes are better adjusted to the dark, so he leads the path while I listen for danger. My job would be significantly easier if I weren't continually distracted by the straggler.
It's like she's not even trying to be discreet.
She probably thinks she's our mate. Women often get deluded thoughts about us, convincing themselves they're our mate and we just need to touch them to prove it.
Kie finds it fun to play along, pretending he feels something in his soul but is forbidden from confirming. I'm pretty sure he used to tell women the queen would have his mate killed for the sake of the kingdom.
He thinks delusional women fuck better, but that's not something I care to experience for myself. Those women are harder to get rid of once you've bedded them, and they're almost always trying to sneak in a touch.
The whores in the elite brothels of Elora know better than to try and skirt around the rules.
I wonder if any of Kie's women ever succeeded in pulling the condom off his cock. I'm sure one or two managed to get a bare hand on him when he wasn't paying attention, but none have been our mate.
I'd feel if they ever made contact.
"It's uncomfortable," Kie says, kicking at a rock. "The lack of magic. It feels like a piece of myself is missing."
I shrug, unable to relate. I can use small amounts of magic, but it's only a fraction of what the weakest faeries can do. I've never had any use for it, and I don't miss it when it's gone.
The world shifters originated from didn't have much of it. At least, that's what the records say. Our realm was destroyed thousands of years ago, and all we have now are legends and stories that I'm sure have been greatly exaggerated over the years.
The faeries are lucky they weren't met with the same fate we were when they messed with the gods.
Almost every creature who has crossed the gods is extinct, or their realm destroyed, but leave it to the faeries to think they're better than that. Those nobles thought they could outsmart the gods, and now we all pay the price.
I don't know what Kie thinks I'll be able to do at the portal. My great-great-grandfather was a god, but my blood is almost purely shifter by now. I won't be recognized as kin, but he insists on bringing me along.
I think he just doesn't want to do this by himself. We haven't spent a day apart since I was brought to the castle, our bond not liking the distance.
Another thirty minutes pass before I lose my last bit of patience with the straggler. She's still here, but she's too loud. She's practically a beacon for the nearby shifters, and our favorite time to hunt is at night. She's going to get us killed.
I clear my throat, alerting Kie, before dropping my bag onto the ground.
I'm glad I chose to wear all black today. Her blood won't stain the fabric.
"Mason..." Kie says.
Ignoring him, I spin and begin heading toward the straggler. She's not far behind.
Kie lets out a muffled curse, and I hear his bag drop onto the ground a second before he grabs my shoulder and pulls me back. I let him stop me, a habit I've been forced to take up since moving to the castle.
Kie is the crowned prince, and despite fate telling us that we should be equals, the faeries don't see it that way. Life in court is easier when the nobles think I'm subservient to Kie.
"I'll see to it," he says.
I doubt that.
Kie's fingers dig into my shoulder, threatening to dislocate the bone.
"You know what they'll do if they find evidence that you killed another faerie," he continues.
He tightens his grip, continuing until I flinch and rip my arm from his. Queen Gitta's come to my defense dozens of times over the years, but her pardons aren't endless. I may be tied to her son, but she has a duty to protect her people.
I haven't killed a faerie in over a year now, and she tried to throw a fucking party.
I'm relieved Praxis foiled those plans.
Kie shoves me back and heads toward the straggler, and I listen to his footsteps as I turn and collect our items. There aren't as many small critters scampering about as there should be, so I know the shifters have been through here recently.
The scent of blood will draw them back, and we need to distance ourselves from the woman's body before they return.
Kie's footsteps vanish, but I'm unconcerned. He's capable of protecting himself, and he knows to call for me if he runs into real trouble.
I'm willing to bet he's trying to catch the woman off guard. She's too far from the Janta to return, at least in one piece, and she'll scream when she realizes what we intend. Interrupting Praxis is punishable by death, one of the few crimes that are.
The death that seeps from the gods' portal spreads too quickly, and there's no time for interruptions. Kie can't enter it until his twenty-eighth year, and if we pace ourselves correctly, we should arrive there on the day of.
I grab my bag and toss it over my shoulder, impatient to continue moving.
The shifters and trolls are more active at night, so we'll rest during the days. Kie and I will have to take turns sleeping, and despite how uncomfortable, I'll do so in my animal form.
My senses are better that way.
At least, they once were. I'm rarely in my animal form nowadays.
It wasn't welcome in the castle, and my lack of shifting has made doing so excruciating. I'm still able to do it, and the pain doesn't last long, but it's not something I do for fun any longer.
I haven't in years.
What's taking Kie so long? He's not one to drag out his kills, but I understand his holdup the moment I hear his voice. Sighing, I drag a hand down my face.
Why the fuck is he talking to the straggler?
My blood boils, and I fight back the urge to shift and finish this once and for all as I storm in their direction. I should've known better than to trust Kie to take care of this. He's got a soft spot for the delusional ones.
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