“Then he saw us talking, that’s all.”

“Marai,” Thora huffed with exasperation, “your feelings for each other are written all over your faces.”

Marai felt like something was crawling beneath her clothes. She wriggled away from Thora’s knowing stare. “And what does Keshel think of you and Raife?”

Thora drew herself up. “He doesn’t know. No one does. Because Raife and I are nothing, as we’ve already discussed.”

Marai raised an eyebrow. She’d been back with the fae for a month, and she’d noticed Raife and Thora’s affections straight away. She doubted Keshel, a seer, didn’t know.

“Regardless, why should my friendship with Ruenen bother Keshel?” Marai dipped the spoons into the water a second time and scrubbed away the red dirt.

“He’s always cared for you, but since you’ve come home, I’m not sure, but I think those feelings have changed.”

“What do you mean?” Marai didn’t like where this conversation was headed. Every part of her cringed. She hastily finished her washing and drying, and gathered everything up in her arms.

Keshel was her brother. Not by blood, but he’d raised her. He was seven years older, and had practically been a father to her growing up.

“You’ve always vexed him, but I know he’s never wanted your fire to go out. I think he admires it, Marai. You’re so different from him. You’re free in ways he doesn’t know how to be.”

Blessedly, Ruenen and Raife returned, their arms laden with sticks and branches from nearby shrubbery.

“We’ll set up blankets for you in the cavern,” Thora told Ruenen.

“I don’t want to be any trouble for you, Thora. I’ll sleep outside.”

“But it gets cold . . .”

“We’ll be fine,” Marai said, then Thora returned to the cavern with the clean dishes.

“You don’t have to sleep out here with me,” Ruenen said, but he grinned, the idea pleasing him.

“I enjoy being outdoors,” replied Marai, tilting her face away so he wouldn’t see her cheeks redden. “Wait out here. I’ll fetch our packs.”

Inside, she dumped the clean utensils with the other dishes, then slung the packs over her shoulders.

Ruenen sat on a rock, singing softly to the stars.

“New song?” Marai asked as she approached, handing him his pack and lute. They pulled out their blankets and lay down in the dirt.

“No, I’ve been working on it for a while,” Ruenen said, lying on his back, one arm resting behind his head. “Still can’t finish all the lyrics.”

“It’s nice,” said Marai as she closed her eyes, breathing in that bone dry scent of the desert.

After a moment, Ruenen said, “Thora was right. It’s cold. Can you make that magical bubble around us?”

Marai snorted, but lifted her hand as she’d done for him every night before Ruenen knew she was fae. Magic spilled out from her fingers, encapsulating them in an invisible barrier, a soft electric haze, like the glow of fireflies.

“Thank you for introducing me to your family, Marai.”

She smiled. A warmth spread through her chest. “Thank you for accepting them, Ruen.”

Chapter 13

Ruenen

Anticipation, stifling and tense, clung to the air.

The next morning, the fae gathered in the cavern. A decision had to be made.

Staring at them all, Ruenen regretted the decision to come here. He hated that he and Marai had asked this of the fae, and brought this war to their doorstep. The fae seemed so fragile standing there against the opposite cave wall, beautiful, ghostly remnants of a once mighty people. Of fae kings and queens with great power and pride.

Are we doing the right thing? 

All of a sudden, Ruenen hoped they’d say no. A gush of guilt and fear bubbled up in his stomach, turning his digesting breakfast sour.

Marai, too, appeared hesitant, her lips in a thin line, picking at her blackened cuticles. But she swallowed down whatever feelings had been brewing as she addressed the stoic faces before her.

“We may be fae, but let’s not forget that we’re also human. Our families were human,” she said. “Their blood runs in our veins, same as the fae. Every time I look in the mirror, I see my mother. I think of her sacrifice; that she, a human, fell in love with a faerie and left her people behind for him. There are good people in this world. Humans who don’t hold that hatred and fear in their hearts. People who can accept. But they never will if we refuse to show them that we can also overcome our fear.”

Ruenen’s chest swelled with pride at her words. No longer was Marai the solitary, unfeeling Lady Butcher. Ruenen couldn’t stop himself from braiding his fingers with hers. Marai studied their conjoined hands, then met his gaze.

I see you, Marai.

Every eye in the room snapped to their open display of unification.

“I will come with you,” said a wavering voice, yanking Ruenen’s attention from Marai’s face. Kadiatu wrung her hands, as if the announcement pained her.

Leif shook his head. “Don’t, Kadi—”

“I want a home. A real home,” Kadiatu said. “I want to leave this desert. I believe in the future that could be. I believe there is more for us.“ She sent Ruenen and Marai a quavering smile. “My magic is weak and I’m not skilled with a blade, but I’ll help you win in whatever way I can, Prince Ruenen.”

Kadiatu came to Marai’s side, facing the others. Marai took her hand and gave it a grateful squeeze. Ruenen guessed this decision didn’t come easily for Kadiatu; she trembled from head to toe.

“I want to make my parents proud,” she said, holding her head high as she addressed Ruenen. “My father was a bricklayer from Ain. My mother was part-fae from a camp in Beniel. I was a baby when they died, when Rayghast destroyed our camp. I never knew my parents, but I think this is what they’d want for me. They’d want me to stand with you for a better world.”

Ruenen’s heart soared as emotion nearly overcame him. He squeezed Marai’s hand tighter for stability.

“They would be very proud of you,” Marai told Kadiatu with more warmth than Ruenen was used to hearing in her tone. “I know it.”

In a strong and determined tone, Raife announced, “I’ll come, too.”

Panic lit up Thora’s face as she bit her lower lip.

“No, brother,” said Leif, grabbing Raife’s forearm, green eyes shining with alarm. “If you go, you’ll be killed.”

Raife put a hand on his twin’s. “I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of allowing others to dictate how I live and who I am. This is a half-life.”

“Better a half-life than none at all,” pressed Leif, urgency in his tone.