An Heir Comes to Rise Page 3

  She smiled her thanks for his help, and Ferris picked up a smaller crate beside them before making his way back to the docks.

  Faythe poked her head back over her hiding spot to scout. There were two fae patrol and six men loading cargo. The fae were lounging on the docks playing cards, not paying much attention at all. She supposed they didn’t need to. Any foul play, and they’d be alert with swords drawn before any of the mortals could blink. Two of the men were on the ship securing the consignments while the other four journeyed back and forth with containers. She looked to her left. The remaining six large barrels would take at least two or three of them to lift each one.

  Jakon seemed to arrive at the same idea as Faythe. They gave each other a slight nod, and it amazed Faythe how in tune with each other they were sometimes.

  “It’ll be a very small window. We have to be quick and quiet,” Jakon spoke coolly. “Take this.” He pushed his dagger into her hand. “We can’t risk the fae hearing. We’re too close for their ears.”

  Faythe didn’t like where his addition to the plan was going.

  He gave an arrogant smirk at her look of protest and said, “Don’t worry, Faythe.” He ruffled her hair, and she resisted the urge to bat his hand away and tackle him. “They’re about to turn back to come for these. Be ready.”

  Faythe didn’t have time to object to his completely stupid and reckless idea before he ducked out from behind his barrel and rushed for the docks. She fought in irritation not to launch the blade at him, but then the quickly alerted fae had her shrinking back.

  She couldn’t hear, but she watched in silence as Jakon stopped in front of them and made some desperate gestures toward the path leading back into town. One of the fae shouted over to the cargo loaders while the other roughly grabbed Jakon by the arm.

  Faythe jolted, ready to jump out of position to intervene if his plan went badly. Reuben put a hand on her shoulder as if anticipating it, and she almost bit his fingers off—until she watched the patrol begin to walk in their direction, Jakon in tow. As they passed, he looked to her, a slight smile on the corner of his lips assuring her this was part of his impromptu idea.

  Faythe released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding just as the four men, Ferris included, returned from the ship to collect more supplies.

  “This is it,” Faythe whispered as they approached. She glanced at Reuben, and her heart cracked for him at the fear on his face. “Listen to me, Reuben. You made a mistake, and that can’t be undone, but now, you need to focus. You have to live.” She pulled him into an embrace, and he let out a breathless sound.

  “I’m sorry, Faythe, and thank you for all you’ve risked for me—all of you. I’d be dead otherwise. Look after my mother, will you?” he said hurriedly, aware the crew were almost within earshot.

  “I will,” she whispered. “I really hope you make it, Reuben. I’ll miss you.”

  They released each other, and she brushed away a tear from his face before crouching low, staying still as a statue. All four of the men returned, shifting the end barrel before lifting it two to a side and shuffling off again.

  Without wasting a second, Faythe was on her feet, angling the dagger to pry open the lid of the container Ferris had indicated. He spoke the truth. When it came loose with a faint pop, it was barely half-full.

  Reuben hauled himself up onto the barrel beside it, hesitating for a second before lowering himself into the opening. He shuffled around until he was half-buried in sacks of grain and the lid could be sealed.

  “It’s not going to be a comfortable journey, but they say it only takes a couple of days to get there.” Faythe passed him his backpack along with the food she’d gathered earlier. When she was satisfied he was as comfortable as he could get and there were enough gaps in the wood for air, she grabbed the lid but paused.

  He gave a weak smile. “I’ll be okay,” he said. But Faythe could hear the doubt in his voice and feel his overwhelming dread and panic.

  There was no time for her to get emotional. “Goodbye, Reuben.”

  He gave her a thankful nod, and she threw the lid over him before he saw the tears forming in her eyes.

  When she was confident it was sealed, she spared just a second to rest her hand on the wood before she pushed off it. Checking the men were still occupied on the ship and the coast was clear, she left.

  Back at the edge of the forest, she couldn’t help but pause to look back and watch them carry the last of the barrels onto the ship. When they finally got to Reuben, her face wrinkled in sadness at the thought of him in there, scared and alone.

  Ferris stayed true to his word and did not partake in carrying that particular load. Instead, he went for the final barrel she assumed was also half-full since he lifted it alone with ease.

  The fae patrol returned looking particularly pissed off, and with Jakon nowhere in sight, Faythe’s stomach dropped. She had to go find him now. With everything loaded, the fae gave the men a nod to leave for the night before one of them went to haul up the ship’s anchor.

  Stealing a last look, Faythe mumbled a quiet prayer to the Spirits for Reuben’s safe journey, not caring that her words would carry into chilled wisps of wind and offer no consolation in return.

  She turned and disappeared through the dark curtain of the forest.

  Chapter 3

  Faythe was silent as she pressed her back to a cold stone wall in one of the alleyways in town. Cautiously, she dipped her head around a corner to check for the fae patrol. She had no idea where Jakon was, and she prayed the fae hadn’t taken him to a cell for whatever he’d attempted to distract them with.

  She was about to step out and dart across the intersection while the street was soundless and clear when she heard a familiar birdcall carry through the air above.

  Whipping her head up, she squinted through the dark across the distorted line of rooftops until her eyes landed on an inconspicuous shape bulging next to the chimney of an adjacent building. Faythe didn’t realize how tense she was until her whole body loosened at the sight. With feline stealth, she dashed in and out of the shadows before reaching the drainpipe they used to climb onto the roof, which had become a favorite hideout to evade the patrols and escape the hustle of daytime. It offered a bird’s-eye view over the town, where the obscure array of dwellings and establishments were laid out like a dreary stone maze. The vantage point presented one sight that was always impeccable to behold: a distant view of the eternally glowing inner city. The battered brown building stood just tall enough for them to catch a glimpse of it over the rampart.

  Faythe scaled the side of the wall, hauling herself up using the holes and sticking-out bricks in the worn structure. Jakon was sitting lazily against the chimney shaft, and even in the shadows, she could make out his playful smile. She crouched low and shot across the narrow flat of the rooftop. When she reached him, she gave him a whack across the arm.

  “Ow! What’s that for?” he complained, though he kept his grin.

  “Don’t be so reckless next time! They could have locked you up just because they felt like it.” When he gave her a breathy laugh in response, she couldn’t fight her own amusement and smiled. “Where did you lead them to anyway?”

  He let out a huff. “I told them a fight had broken out at the inn. The place looked a little battered from those other fae bastards earlier, so it was plausible,” he grumbled. “But when they showed up and saw there was nothing left to be done, they gave me two months’ cargo load duty at the docks for wasting their time.”

  Faythe couldn’t help her chuckle at his dismay and lightly punched his arm again. “Serves you right.”

  He pushed her back, then he brought her close to him in an embrace. She sat beside him, resting her head on his shoulder, as he draped his arm around her. She was so tired from all the emotions of the night, she wanted to fall asleep right there under the stars.

  Sometimes, she wished it could be more with Jakon. Faythe loved him more than anything, more tha
n anyone, and it always pained her when she occasionally caught the longing in his eye—as if even after all this time, he still held hope she might one day feel that love intimately too. He’d kissed her once, years past, and she’d returned it, if only to be sure it wouldn’t spark their friendship into something deeper. It simply confirmed her platonic feelings toward him and made her feel horribly guilty for trying. Her life by his side would be mundane and conventional, safe, and no doubt happy for the most part. Perhaps that was what scared her the most.

  After a moment of peaceful silence, Faythe heard the familiar whistle for the third time that night. The pair frowned at each other before Jakon returned the birdcall. There were only a handful she considered friends who knew about it.

  She warily peered over the side and spotted Ferris by his swagger. He was carefully making his way over when he spotted them above. It didn’t take him long to scale the building and join them.

  He let out an exhausted sigh before lying flat on his back in front of them, tucking his hands behind his head. “You two have been busy tonight,” he said in greeting. Neither of them replied. He continued, “Always knew it would be that kid who would end up in deep shit one day. I mean, you’re all pretty stupid, but he the most.”

  Faythe rolled her eyes. Ferris was the oldest at twenty-five, which apparently made it acceptable for him to act like an arrogant asshole most of the time.

  “What do you want, Ferris?” Jakon asked, bored.

  Ferris rolled to the side, propping himself up on an elbow. “They came to me with the same offer, you know?”

  Faythe frowned, ready to throw him off the roof, but he went on.

  “I told them to go burn in the Netherworld.”

  She didn’t believe Ferris would have used such tame words to tell someone where to go if they displeased him. His wicked smirk confirmed as much. They didn’t have to voice they were talking about the same thing: the exact reason their mutual friend was currently a cargo load.

  “Valgard must be planning something big if they’re openly terrorizing people for information like this,” Jakon mused.

  “Indeed. They didn’t like my rejection, and in response, they said they would hunt my entire family.” Ferris laughed. “I told them to go ahead because I haven’t seen any of them in years.”

  Faythe was trembling when Jakon put his hand on hers—either from the cold or fear, she couldn’t be sure. They exchanged a look, and she could almost hear the words, “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” She smiled weakly, but then it faltered as she recalled the earlier events of that night.

  “The innkeeper’s son—do you think…?” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

  Jakon gave her a grim look. “It’s possible,” was all he said.

  She didn’t want to think of the kind of torture and punishment he would endure at the castle prison to share what he knew about Valgard, and then he would be killed for treason.

  Faythe looked to the stars, beyond them, and thanked the mythical Spirits’ she had been able to help Reuben get away. She was hopeful that whatever met him on the journey or after would be a mercy in comparison.

  Ferris’s voice brought her eyes back down. “Just thought I should warn you, they have soldiers testing the borders, and some are managing to slip past. Stay out of the woodlands if you can, and don’t go out of Farrowhold if you don’t have to.”

  For all his cockiness, Faythe knew Ferris cared for them like family. They were all cut from the same cloth and had been dealt similar versions of the same misfortune.

  “There’s been talk of unrest in Galmire,” he added sternly.

  Faythe shuddered at the mention of Galmire, the town on the edge of High Farrow. It was home to the Dark Woods that made up part of the border separating them from the conquered kingdom of Dalrune. Valgard soldiers must be grabbing those who were foolish or desperate enough to wander through, and with the lack of game to hunt in Farrowhold, she couldn’t blame the ones who did.

  “Thank you,” Faythe said fiercely. The two exchanged a warm smile—a rare occurrence since they were usually testing each other’s patience—then she looked to Jakon. “Let’s go home.”

  He nodded with a knowing smile.

  The three of them scurried across the roof one by one and climbed back down to the street before parting ways.

  Back at the hut, Faythe and Jakon didn’t stay up much longer since they were both exhausted from the night’s unexpected affairs. They changed and tucked themselves in, and Faythe was grateful they never talked about any of it. She thought her mind might burst from the exertion of emotion.

  In less than ten minutes, Jakon was already lightly snoring in his cot beside her, but Faythe couldn’t get her mind to settle. When she closed her eyes, a pair of bright green irises flashed, and she wondered why she couldn’t get them out of her head.

  She scrunched her eyes shut, willing herself to think of something—anything—else to help her drift off. But if it wasn’t the strange sighting of the fae male earlier that day rattling her thoughts, painful images of Reuben—cramped in a dingy wooden cell in the middle of the ocean, losing his wits in fear—crowded her head. The thought made her sick.

  Faythe always had vivid dreams and usually awoke feeling more exhausted than when she went to bed. Tonight would be no different with the lattice of thoughts and emotions that wouldn’t settle, not even when she felt the slow waves of sleep lap over her and pull her under all at once.

  It was dark. Whorls of black and gray smoke engulfed her, and she watched tendrils of it entwine around her fingers as she lifted a hand to touch it. It had no scent and did not choke her when she inhaled cautiously. Above her head, she could make out an endless black void through the gaps in the smoke. Below her feet, her own obscure reflection was cast back to her by a pane of cracked black glass.

  Faythe took a few wary steps into the abyss, and the clouds moved with her. She scanned and squinted through the infinite space to try to find something or someone, but she didn’t trust her voice to call out. She was too afraid of what might call back…

  Feelings of dread and panic started to rise within her, and she clamped her fists tight to stop them from trembling. She began to feel cold. So cold. She’d had her fair share of nightmares, but this—it felt…different. Every instinct told her to wake up.

  The smoke shifted, and she gasped in horror as thick ringlets snaked up her arms before the translucent vines tightened like rope. When she tried to pull free, it was futile. The same phantom touch crawled up her calves, and she was fully ensnared in her sleep predator’s trap.

  Her panic spiked, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She had been able to wake herself from nightmares before, so she calmed herself and focused. Yet no matter how hard she strained her mind, it was as if something anchored her here.

  “How brave you are to find yourself inside my mind.” The threatening snarl came from behind.

  She whirled her head only to find blackness chasing ghosts as the silhouettes shifted to trick her. A light caress went down her face, and she whipped her head around again—but still, she found no solid form.

  The faceless monster was taunting her.

  “I…I don’t—” She tried to speak but was cut off as she felt another shadow-arm snake around her throat and apply light pressure. Terror doused her. It’s only a dream, she told herself. One breath, two…

  Slowly, her heart calmed a little. She would wake up soon; could force herself to wake up if she focused right. She clamped her eyes shut and willed herself back to consciousness once more, imagining her bed and Jakon, who would be sound asleep beside her.

  After a moment, she felt no change and dared to open her eyes. Faythe found herself still trapped in the bottomless pit of her ghoulish nightmare. She let out a small whimper of defeat.

  A rumble of laugher echoed around her, bouncing off phantom walls that made it impossible to pinpoint its origin. “Don’t you know not to go wandering through people’s
minds when you don’t know the way out?” the voice said.

  Faythe went cold as ice. The ghost of an arm tightened around her neck, and she let out a strangled sound.

  “No words?”

  She detected a hint of amusement in the tone and knew it was enjoying its taunts and relishing in her fear.

  Finally, a real, solid figure started to emerge across the dark space, and the mist cleared to reveal a striking fae male. Not exactly the terror-inducing, foul-looking creature she was expecting.

  Her panic dissolved into pure shock as she matched the voice to the familiar face she had encountered earlier that day: the fae she crossed paths with on her way to the mill. Without his hood, he was even more beautiful than she imagined from her quick observation in town. His short, jet-black hair glistened in the light that had begun to chase away the shadows.

  The black and gray mist now only swirled in a lazy circle around them, the vines that had stretched out to hold her firm loosening slightly.

  The bright green of his eyes pierced right through her from the distance he still kept between them. They narrowed, and his strong, angled jaw tilted as he observed her. Faythe took the opportunity to gauge the threat.

  His poise was elegant yet commanding. A warrior, perhaps. Though she noted his black leather pants and knee-high boots to be of exceptionally fine craftsmanship. If the fae had access to money and finer wares, he must be of high rank. His toned upper body was obvious from his loose-fitting white shirt, which only added to her assumptions the fae had likely seen the lines of battle; was honed for it.

  He stalked toward her slowly, deliberately, looking over every inch of her. Faythe had never felt more exposed even though she was fully dressed in her usual sleep clothes. Her feet were bare, however, making her feel strangely inappropriate.