Soul of Thorns (Wicked Fae Book 3) Read online

  Soul of Thorns

  Wicked Fae, Volume 3

  Stacey Trombley

  Published by Stacey Trombley, 2020.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Rev

  Rev

  Caelynn

  Author Note

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  Prince of Thorns

  About the Author

  Caelynn

  I push harder, feet thumping over the uneven ashy terrain. Dark fluid flutters from the sky like flurries of snow, except instead of the gentle sting of frost, it’s the harsh bite of acid. The searing pain scatters over every inch of exposed skin, leaving red welts behind, but I clench my jaw and push through the pain.

  We’re getting closer to the center of the Schorchedlands. The air is thick in my lungs. Sweat drips down my back and beads on my forehead as the heat pressed in. The poison in the atmosphere gets stronger until it feels like the acid isn’t only on my skin—it’s inside me. Will I even know it when I reach the inner circle, where a mortal cannot survive even an hour? Will I realize the life is being sucked from my body before it’s too late?

  Every lung full sends more pain cascading through my chest but I don’t dare focus on that now.

  Now, he is in trouble. Now, I might lose him. And I cannot let that happen.

  That’s all there is now—pain and determination. I run because I must. I try to use the pain to my advantage, to become the pain. But it weighs on me. Heavier and heavier, tearing at the light inside of me, dying like a soft ember barely clinging to hope.

  “If he dies, you’ll be free to escape,” a familiar voice purrs in my ear, even as I sprint over the rubble of this broken place. Scarred and toxic, just like my own soul.

  “No,” I growl through my painful breaths.

  My wraith floats effortlessly beside me. Frustration fills me at as his ease, his calm. It sends a wave of fury over my body, and I fight against a roar of anger. That will not help me now.

  That won’t help Rev.

  Instead, I use the anger as more fuel. I will prove the wraith wrong. I will become one with the shadows. Angry magic rushes through my veins, pulsing with every movement. It hisses in my ear and presses in on my vision until all I see is darkness.

  I can use the magic within the natural element of shadows to my advantage, and here, it is everywhere. In everything.

  Except here, it is not my friend. Here, the darkness wishes to devour my very soul. It claws deeper and deeper every moment I use it. Not unlike the Night Bringer so long ago. How his magic carved through my body like butter and left a seared edge and shattered soul behind. Even Rev with his healing magic can’t save me from those wounds.

  But I can still save him.

  The way he looks at me now... I wince and push the image away. Because it isn’t real. It isn’t possible. He couldn’t possibly adore me the way his expression last night implied. And if he does... he’ll regret it soon enough.

  Because I destroy everything I love.

  “I belong here, you fool,” I tell the wraith. “One day, you’ll accept that.”

  “If you stay,” the wraith whispers, “the Night Bringer will take away more of you, piece by piece, until it’s only his magic that remains. Then, he will free himself with ease. It will be his soul inside your body, reigning over the Shadow Court. On that day, Caelynn, Princess of the Shadow Court, you’ll lose everything you ever dared to hope for.”

  Rev

  I take in a long breath, watching the shadows shift over the dark waters. The dull, hazy light of the sun is just rising over the horizon behind a film of fog. The shift is subtle. Our surroundings grow progressively lighter as the night ends and day begins, but in this place, that only means a haze of reddish light over dark lands. It’s enough to keep the wraiths hidden—mostly—but not enough to make this hellish landscape bright or friendly.

  The mumbling voices of the dead can occasionally be heard in the hills surrounding our little valley. Their smoke magic wafts to and fro on the rocky hillsides.

  Is one of them my brother? I wonder as I sit on a rock and watch the bubbling tar-like waters of the swamp where I last saw him. Where I threw him into the oily pit and watched him flee.

  I fought my brother for Caelynn.

  It’s still hard to wrap my mind around, to be honest.

  The brother I’ve hero-worshiped since I was a child. The brother I’d vowed to avenge against the female sleeping soundly in the cottage behind me. The female I’m now determined to protect.

  I twist a little white stone between my fingers, watching the reddish light reflect off of it.

  When I grabbed the stone from my court, I hadn’t thought it would mean much. A symbol of what I’d lost. But as time goes on, it means more and more.

  We have a home here, a little hand-built, rickety cottage that’s covered in mildew and dust and protected by magic. We have enough supplies to survive temporarily... but not to thrive.

  Our first two nights here, I stayed awake until early morning, keeping watch as Caelynn slept. While wraiths groaned in the distance. But they never came near.

  It didn’t take long for my guard to fall and for my attention to turn away from the anticipation of a fight to watching Caelynn’s pained expression as she tossed and turned on the uneven straw bed.

  The wound my brother gave her was significant. I’ve never feared death more than I feared hers. Another question to add to my list. I’ve felt so many conflicting things about the lovely shadow fae. I’ve hated her. I’ve desired her death. I’ve respected her. I’ve grown to care for her, even as I distrusted her. I felt betrayed by her—only to learn that once again, she was sacrificing to help me.

  I don’t think I’ll ever know everything she’s done for me.

  And all I’ve ever done is hurt her.

  Now, it might be too late to change that. By entering the Schorchedlands, she made her biggest sacrifice yet. Only one of us can leave this place, and I know she intends for it to be me.

  The hair on my arms stands up suddenly, and the air around me cools. My gaze flashes to the inky-black waters of the swamp then up to a dark form hovering over it only a few feet away.

  The breath catches in my throat. The wraith wafts gently. Silently. His smoke-like form swirls and shifts, but the hole where his eyes should be is black. Empty of emotion. No aggression or anger or fear—nothing.

  Muscles tense, scarcely breathing, I slowly rise from my seat on the uneven stone, eyes never leaving the wraith.

  I
’ve seen dozens of wraiths over the last few days but only from afar. Their voices carry over the mountain range as they roam randomly, but they leave this valley mostly alone. Since I fought Reahgan, since he failed to kill Caelynn in order to “save me,” they’ve kept their distance. They’ve never come within a hundred feet of either of us.

  Light flickers in my palm, ready to fight. I could kill him easily, quickly, but the use of my magic would draw more wraiths to us. So, instead, I wait.

  The wraith doesn’t draw closer. It doesn’t speak. In fact, it’s only movement is gentle swaying as he hovers over the swamp.

  Then, a cry of pain grabs my attention. My blood turns to ice as I whip my head toward the cottage. Caelynn.

  The terror of her voice causes my gut to clench, and without another moment of hesitation, I sprint back to our temporary home. Panic rushes over my body as I pound over the ashen ground and shove through the crooked wooden door. “Caelynn?” I call.

  In only an instant, I size up the room. The wards are still intact, and the cottage is quiet. No evidence of wraiths or other creatures anywhere nearby.

  Caelynn is sitting up in bed, blond hair falling into her face as she pants desperately, holding her throat. I rush to her, a knee on the bed beside her and a hand braced on the wall as I lean over her, prepared to heal an injury. “What’s wrong?” I croak, placing two fingers under her chin. I lift her face towards mine.

  Her expression flickers between confusion and pain and fear.

  “I’m fine.” Her voice is sharp. Determined.

  I swallow as I notice our proximity. Our faces are inches apart. Her eyes flicker to my chest, to my eyes, and then away.

  “I’m fine,” she says again, pulling her face from my gentle grip.

  Slowly, I lean back. I don’t have an issue with being... close to her, but she’s made it clear over the last few days that she’s not comfortable with intimacy. She’s been standoffish since we’ve been here, leaving me wondering if I’d been wrong about everything.

  I kissed her in a moment of passion. I’d thought she was going to die. She almost did die. And I acted on my craving. But maybe the desire is one-sided.

  Maybe she hasn’t forgiven me for believing the worst of her over and over.

  Caelynn presses her palms to her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” she says, rubbing her face rigorously. “Just a dream.”

  I let out a long breath, working to convince my body I don’t need to fight something. It’s hard to imagine we’ve spent three days in the middle of fae hell, with a bounty on our heads but without facing any new wraiths—well, so far. I glance out the one tiny window at the end of the room. The other is boarded shut.

  The room is small, just a bed and a “kitchen” with pots, a heath, and a narrow well. There are three crates lining the far wall filled with emptied jars and tin cans. The sorcerer that built this place to study the wraiths had brought a significant amount of supplies but went through almost all of them before his departure.

  I stride to the stove and spend a moment building magic in my palm until it grows hot, then I cast a small ray of light onto a chip of glass made to magnify light. In only a moment, there is a spark of flame, and in a few more, the fire is strong enough to heat a pot of water.

  “Tea?” I ask her, though I already know the answer.

  We only have four servings of tea left, but we hadn’t planned on staying much longer.

  She nods slowly.

  “Want to tell me about it?” I ask casually. Caelynn isn’t exactly forthcoming with her emotions, and I don’t get the impression she wants to push the boundaries of what we already are. Even just a moment of our eyes connecting causes pain to flicker in her expression.

  Caelynn has had enough pain in her life, I don’t need to add to it. And since I am not in a position to promise her anything, I haven’t pushed her on it. Maybe one day. Maybe I’ll figure out what I feel about the incredibly beautiful shadow fae. Maybe in some faraway future, there is hope for us. It’s small, but I refuse to accept that there isn’t some way we could each find happiness.

  She shakes her head in answer to my offer.

  I smirk. Very articulate, this one.

  “Hurry with the tea, we should get going,” she says as she swings her legs over the edge of the bed, trying to hide a wince.

  I roll my eyes. “We don’t have to rush out of here. The wraiths haven’t bothered us in the slightest and—”

  “And you want to wait until they do?” she spits, meeting my eyes for only one quick moment before returning to her mud-caked boots. I suppose it’s a good thing I left out my face to face with a wraith moments ago. I glance out the small window again, but there doesn’t seem to be any sign of the wraith. Maybe it was a coincidence.

  “We agreed we’d leave today,” she says. “The faster we complete this quest, the faster we can get you out of here.”

  I pause, staring at the boiling pot of water.

  Me. Get me out of here, not her. She’s never, not once implied she would want to leave this place in my stead. Why? Doesn’t she want to save herself? Doesn’t she hope for something more than this?

  Don’t you? a voice whispers in my mind. I take in a deep breath. I do want more. I have hope for a grand life. Of power and adoration, of making a difference. Of being remembered. But only one of us can have that chance. And she just freely gives it away without so much as a blink.

  One day, I want to give something meaningful back to her. I’ve taken so much without even realizing it. She shielded me from it all. She let me hate her when she could have come out with the truth and eased her punishment.

  I peer out the window. We’re several miles into the Schorchedlands by now. I can’t even see the thorn walls that border these lands. All I can see are the rocky hills surrounding us and the dull sky, but even so, I know there’s a whole world out there waiting for us. For me. My eyes drift back to Caelynn busy buttoning her jacket.

  She’ll willingly leave all hope behind for me, but that’s all the more reason to fight for her.

  Caelynn

  Hazy light streams through the last intact window of the shadow-filled cottage, casting a reddish glow over Rev. I watch his movements, his muscles shifting as he pours water over the pot, measuring a small amount of tea into the filter and placing it in carefully. I watch how he pauses to stare out the window.

  What is he thinking about? I wonder.

  He’s probably annoyed with me for being here. I did complicate things considerably. He’s probably thinking about the spell book and how that’s the key to his redemption. The key to earning his place as the most powerful fae in the realm.

  We’ve been here for a full three days. Me and Rev, together, in this dinky, hand-built home where soot clings to everything, including us, with meager supplies and very little hope.

  Finally, Rev pours the steaming liquid into two small cups, sending pleasant-smelling herbs wafting through the air. I meet his eyes, dull grey. Not nearly as bright as they once were.

  Will I ever see their striking color again?

  He hands me the ceramic mug, and I grip it with both hands, relishing the warmth.

  “Thank you,” I grumble awkwardly. He chuckles and sits beside me as he sips his beverage. This will be the last of our quiet moments together. Bittersweet, painful, awkward, and incredibly beautiful.

  I close my eyes and focus on the warmth, of his drink, and of him. He’s only inches from me. Close enough to reach out and touch. Not that I’d ever dare.

  I adore being near Rev. Touching Rev. Kissing him...

  I swallow.

  But those moments are painful because it’s hope for the hopeless. It pains me every time I allow myself to fall into the wonderful oblivion of intimacy and then remember the truth. Even if Rev could somehow forgive me entirely, if he could somehow overlook the fact that I murdered his brother and destroyed his life, there’s no way for us to be tog
ether. I’ll never go home. I’ll never see the sun without a haze over its lovely light. I’ll never see the Shadow Court again. And soon, even Rev will be gone forever.

  But the truth is, even if there was a way for both of us to escape this hell, there’s still the fact that the rest of the realm will always villainize me. I could never be worthy of him.

  My soul is scorched and rotting. My heart shattered and scarred.

  Even if Rev could forgive me, I can’t.

  “I could stay here for a while longer,” Rev says between long sips.

  “We’d run out of food in a week.”

  His dark hair falls into his silver eyes, full of a sadness that kills me. His body is lean, his shoulders broad—but that’s not what I’m supposed to be focusing on. I cast my eyes to the floor.

  I was inches from death a few days ago. It doesn’t seem at all right that I’d be basically back to normal this quickly. But when my ally has healing magic... well, that changes things. I shiver at the thought of his healing essence rushing through my body.

  “We could forage for more.” Rev shrugs. “That sorcerer stayed here for a year. It’s obviously possible.”

  Theoretically, this is where I’ll spend the rest of my days. That is, if I survive the quest we’re about to continue. Even that seems farfetched, though, considering the fact that my death would stop the Night Terror’s plan and save Rev... I’m not exactly holding my breath for a long life.

  But if that thought makes Rev feel better—that I can have a life here after he’s gone—I’ll let him believe it.

  I hop up and grab my backpack.

  “You’re eager to leave,” Rev complains.

  “Yes,” I whisper. My magic is filled. My body healed. My heart is full, if not aching. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be to continue this ridiculous quest through fae hell.

  I’d happily spend the rest of my existence in this place with him, even with meager supplies and so few luxuries. But putting off the inevitable is not wise. It won’t help us any.

  I run my fingers through my hair and then tie it back in a messy bun. I pull in a few long breaths, testing my newly healed body.