“I think you were right to leave,” he said, causing Marai to nearly trip over her own feet. “You were always too curious, too brave. Fae aren’t supposed to live in deserts and dusty canyons. I’m glad one of us got to leave. No matter what you experienced out there.” Marai gaped at him and Raife smiled. “Don’t tell the others I said so.”
She’d forgotten how much she always liked him.
Raife and Marai returned to the cave after their patrol shift. The sun began to set, the final rays bursting above the towering canyon cliffs in lush hues of red, orange and gold. Keshel sat outside on a rock, book in his lap, not acknowledging their arrival. His eyes raked across the pages, as if he couldn’t read the words fast enough. Raife shot Marai an arched-eyebrow before he entered the cave. Marai hesitated, then went to Keshel’s side. Thanks to Raife, her anger had cooled from the previous night.
“What are you reading about?” she asked.
The book in Keshel’s lap was old. Its tattered pages were yellowed. He didn’t look up, so Marai stepped into the sun’s path, casting a shadow down upon him. He finally raised his eyes, brows knit together.
“I’m trying to discover why your fingers turned black and what magic you used.”
Interest piqued, Marai asked, “Have you learned anything?”
“You’re unusual,” he replied, making her scowl. She’d been told that far too many times by him and Nosficio the vampire. “I’ve always sensed a different power in you, something far greater than the magic the rest of us command. Maybe even more than a full-blooded fae. And it’s not done growing. I don’t think you’ve tapped into your full potential yet.”
Keshel had said that before when she was younger. He’d seen it, that power, and Marai had experienced it first-hand: the lightning in the woods and on the ship with Slate. Then there were the portals, the doors that transported her between two locations. Strange magic that no other part-fae had.
Why had these powers suddenly appeared? Was it because she’d finally stopped hating the magic in her veins? Accepted that she was fae? Or was it because she’d started to feel. To care. To open up.
“Your well goes deeper, but it isn’t endless,” Keshel went on. “You used up your magic and then reached beyond your capacity.” It wasn’t a question.
Marai thought back to the day before. Yesterday. Gods, it feels like years ago. The other magic had called to her, had wanted her to use it, as if it had been lying in wait.
“I never knew magic could be dark, something truly forbidden. Black smoke clouded my brain. It wanted to control me, but I was able to stop it once I’d reached this side of the portal . . . once I’d calmed down.” Marai stared at her fingers. “I could sense the magic tainting me, but it also felt good to have that power. It flooded through me and gave me strength.”
But it had frightened her. The lack of control. She could have lost herself to the darkness entirely.
She met Keshel’s gaze. “Why do you think my powers are different?”
Keshel shook his head. “I don’t know. But the moment you came back to us, when you walked into the cave, I felt you before I saw. As if your very blood was charged like the sky in a storm.” He closed the book in his lap and stood, towering over her. “Magic is similar to a living being. Every living, growing thing on the planet contains a form of life energy or magic. It has no rhyme or reason for what it does, how much power it bestows, and the kind of magic each being possesses. I’ve studied it for years, curious about why I have the gift of foresight and Thora can heal. Oftentimes, it does pass genetically through each fae lineage. Thora is descended from a long line of healers, and I had a great-grandmother who shared my gifts, as well. But you . . . you’re entirely new. At least, as far back as four generations.”
The hair prickled on Marai’s arm. Why was she so different? Why had her magic developed in such a way?
“Then there’s this ring.” Keshel held out his hand. Marai pulled the bloodstone ring from her pocket and placed it in his palm. He examined it closely from all angles, wonder appearing on his face.
“It called to me,” Marai said, “and enhances my powers somehow. Or maybe the ring opens me up to my magic more.”
Keshel turned the ring over in his hand. “I can feel the essence of magic in it, but it doesn’t call to me. This ring chose you. I can feel it humming with your imprint.” He handed her back the ring.
Marai slid it onto her finger; its solid weight belonged there. “What does that mean, though?”
Keshel shook his head again. “I’m not sure. Again, magic does what it wants. It chooses who it wants.”
“I was told the ring belonged to Queen Meallán, one of the ancient fae,” Marai said.
Keshel stilled and his face went slack. “Are you sure?”
“That’s what I was told,” Marai said, but she trusted the source of information. Slate had been a rabid collector of magical items. He did his research.
Keshel lapsed into a pondering silence. Marai took that as her cue to leave, and headed for the tunnel.
“I’m sorry about what I said last night,” called Keshel, causing Marai to turn back. He did appear apologetic—he frowned and his eyes saddened. “But you must understand that I may never be able to forgive humans for what they did to the fae. To my mother. I was older and I saw it all. Those images still live in here.” He tapped against his skull.
Keshel rarely showed much emotion, but he let Marai see his pain then. The weight Keshel had always carried, burdened with raising six younger part-fae children, after witnessing his own mother’s death. The strength it must have taken for him to push his own sorrow aside to take care of Marai and the others, and how many other fae children they’d lost along the way.
“I understand,” Marai said, and she did. She understood why Keshel and the others hated and feared humans. She, herself, had thought that way for a long time.
“His name is Ruin.”
Keshel had gone pale, eyes a distant glaze, and his voice dropped to a strange monotone. Marai knew this expression. He was seeing.
“What about Ruen?” she asked. The sound of his name from someone else’s lips was a nail to the heart.
“He will be the ruin of the Middle Kingdoms as we know it.”
Marai couldn’t breathe. She felt as if she’d dove into a frozen lake.
“I see a great battle. I see death and carnage. I see the ruination of our way of life. Kingdoms will crumble. All because of him.”
Marai grabbed hold of Keshel’s arm, tugging, trying to get him to wake up and take the words back. “That can’t be true. Ruenen wouldn’t do anything to harm us.”
Keshel’s eyes cleared and he returned to normal, but appeared shaken, disturbed, by what he’d seen. “The prince’s death will plunge Astye into utter chaos. It will be the catalyst. Rayghast will destroy everything. But he’s already coming for us—he’ll be here soon. Because of you, he knows the fae are not extinct.”
“These are flashes,” Marai said, fear and anger rising inside her. Blood rushed in her ears. “You always said your visions are merely possible outcomes. Did you see Ruenen dead?”
Keshel closed his eyes, body sagging under the futures he saw. He covered her hand, still on his arm, with his own. “I saw a terrible, bloody wound, not a soul could survive. His mangled body dangling from a fortress wall.” Marai nearly retched at the thought. “Let this serve as a warning, Marai: danger surrounds your prince. Upon his death, this continent will change forever.”
I need to find Ruenen.
