A Dream of Fate & Flesh (Courts of Malice #2)

3. I’ll Never Let Go

three

I’ll Never Let Go

Rainer

I stomp across the threshold from the woods to my training grounds. The iron gate thuds shut behind me.

It’s been four nights since I’ve seen Alessia—in person or in my dreams. I’ve barely slept.

Before I can take a breath and process the failure of yet another day’s search for Tynan, buzzing fills the air. Moments later, the few pixies I sent to Terra Court come into view.

I sigh, yanking off my leather gloves and stuffing them in my pocket, and continue my quick pace across the grass toward the castle.

“Update?” I bite out.

“The girl seems content, prince,” the teal-winged pixie squeaks out as it spirals around my head. A few others, flying around nearby, hum their agreements.

“Content, how ?” I thrust through a side door, not bothering to hold it open or pause for the pixies, knowing they’ll flit in over my head.

A few servants spot my entrance and scatter. Whatever they see on my face must tell them I need space.

The teal pixie catches up with me, hovering in front of me and flying backwards as I continue to walk. “She spends time at the parties. ”

“It’s forced,” I say in a flat tone.

“She dances. She drinks. She spends time arm in arm with the handsome blond prince in the gardens.”

Rage pounds my skull as I grit my teeth, contemplating this. No way is she cozying up to Eoin. She can’t possibly be content…could she? Does she find him softer? Kinder?

The thought causes a sharp pain in my chest, like a lightning strike to my heart.

My boots clack as I storm to the basement toward my armory, a couple of pixies trailing behind me.

Once inside the armory, I stride to the wide table in the middle, surrounded by walls of blades and other various weapons. The room smells like old leather and steel. Cobwebs cling to the corners, betraying my infrequent attention to the weaponry.

Umbra Court hasn’t had an army in many years—since before I ruled—and many of the weapons have gone untouched. But now, I’m reconsidering the lack of warriors, because I have something invaluable worth protecting.

I pull off my sword belt and scabbard, letting them land on the table with a loud clang. I unhook the few leather belts holding my daggers and plant my hands on the table, hanging my head.

It’s forced , I remind myself. Even if the pixies think she’s content—she’s not. She can’t be.

But who am I trying to convince, myself or the pixies?

“When you head back,” I say, “find out if the prince is using his magic on her… Pay close attention to whether she’s requesting it or not.”

“Yes, prince. ”

If I find out he’s continuing to abuse his power, using it without her consent, he will answer to my power. “When you return, I’ll make you moonshade.”

The pixie squeaks so close to my ear that it rings. “You’ll make enough for all of us, prince?”

I cover my ear, grimacing. “For all of you.”

“Yay!” To my relief, she zooms away, taking her high-pitched squealing with her.

The pixies love moonshade, a tea made of moonberry leaves, hot water, and sugar. The leaves are less potent than the berries, and with the water diluting it, it’s the perfect dosage for the pixies to indulge at safe levels. They deserve a treat after all the back and forth they’ve done for me—keeping an eye on Terra Court.

The pixies can fly great distances in the blink of an eye, flittering as fast as sound. They are also quite stealthy when they try. It’s thanks to them that I’m updated on Alessia’s status, since I haven’t seen her in my dreams. My forehead tenses and I rub out the lines there, trying to quell the irritation.

“Oh! ‘Scuze me, prince,” the pixie squeaks out.

My head snaps up. The few pixies hover by the steel door, waiting for me to open it. The armory is built solid, with no cracks or windows for them to escape.

I stride to the door and let the pixies out.

After cleaning my weapons, I reach my mother’s greenhouse wing, hesitating as I pass Fern’s door. This is the longest I’ve gone without visiting her since I’ve been feeding off the human assassins instead. It’s probably best, considering my urges have been particularly vicious lately. But still, I should at least check on her and ensure she’s doing okay .

I raise my fist to knock—

“Ryeeeeeee,” a high-pitched voice screeches from behind me.

I suppress a groan and turn away from the door to face Sennah. She stands expectantly among the various potted plants with a hand on her cocked hip. Her dress is form-fitting and so white it’s almost see-through. I keep my eyes firmly planted on her face, knowing it’s simply how the Terra Princess prefers to dress. I respect her choices, though I find it odd, considering how rainy the season is here in Umbra.

The thought of Alessia wearing something similar around Eoin has me clenching my jaw. Why hadn’t I asked the pixies what she was wearing? Not that I want to control her, but because I don’t want her to feel pressured to adhere to certain… cultural elements if she isn’t comfortable.

“I need to get back to my court. Can we get on with this?” Sennah asks, redirecting my attention.

“Yes. Let’s.” Running my hand down my face, I say, “It’s been a rather busy week.”

She clucks her tongue. “You know I, of all fae, understand. A delightful rift between me and my brother now must be addressed.” She crosses her arms, her various bracelets tinkling with the movement. “I’m going home in the morning.”

I nod, picking up on her implication that this is the last evening we have together, for now, to try and rectify the wood’s curse.

We stride to the end of the hall. It’s made of glass on three sides and overhead, running warmer and more humid than the rest of the castle. Plants spill over the floor and across various shelves.

I eye the few overgrown pothos we’ve been experimenting on. We turned the greenhouse into a smaller, tamer, more controlled version of the Cursed Wood by replicating what we did in the woods all those years ago—channeling my fearcaller magic into the plants and using Sennah’s magic to tether it to the roots.

The plants are infused with magic, except on a smaller scale, and the fear magic is less impactful. No one should be bothered by it unless they physically touch one of the plants. Fern knows better, and no one else comes into this old wing.

We work silently for a while, trying various combinations to undo the curse we instilled.

Closing my eyes and gently caressing pothos leaves the size of my palm, I search for the spark of my magic. When I feel its familiar tug, I focus on pulling it back to me. Every time I pull it forward, it yanks back, settling into the plant and refusing to return.

After an exhaustive push and pull, my eyes flick open, and I swipe the sweat beading on my brow.

“Let me try,” Sennah whispers. She mimics my previous action, gripping the plant and closing her eyes. The leaves rustle and shake as if physically fighting to relinquish the magic contained within.

A few minutes saunter by, and she sighs, glancing at me. “Our magic is too intertwined; this won’t work. Nothing works.”

Her voice holds a hint of defeat.

“There must be a way to fix it,” I say. “Let’s try again at the same time.”

“Rainer, we’re going in circles.”

With a growl, I pick up an empty pot and chuck it at the wall. It’s exhausting trying and failing to find a solution, when the curse was so damn easy to instill in the first place.

“It’s driving you insane.” She touches my arm softly. “What if you just let it go? Let them think you did it on purpose. Let them fear you. It is your fate, after all, as a fearcaller.”

“Yet another price to pay,” I mutter.

“The fae are smart enough to leave the woods alone. The only ones facing an issue are the humans, and who cares about them? If they cross into your land, let them face their fears. They deserve it.”

“Who cares about the humans ?” I repeat with a deathly growl, shrugging away from her touch.

Thinking of one particular human I care too much about, my teeth clench so tightly that an ache forms in my gums. I inhale through my nose, willing myself to relax my face. Getting worked up right now will do us no favors. It will only unravel the control I’ve built.

I switch tactics, knowing she doesn’t want to hear my same pathetic excuses again. “Your brother does, for one.”

“My brother has a penchant for sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Your court, the humans… it isn’t his business.”

“He enjoys making it his business.” I run a hand through my hair habitually, and the feel of my thick, silky waves is soothing. I sigh. “Look, I just want my damn forest back.”

“You’re acting obsessive again,” she says pointedly. “Why now ?”

My jaw tics, and I shrug, pruning a yellow leaf from my pothos. “Fixing our mistake is long overdue.”

“We agreed to let it go.”

“That was…before.” Before Alessia came to me. Before I saw the longing for freedom in her eyes. Before I heard her story and learned how restricted she was. I want her to be able to move freely among my court—without fear of vampyrs or curses or the likes.

Sennah hmms at me, then turns to inspect some of my plants.

I stuff down the truth—that I want the woods fixed so I can again entertain at my court. Hold tithes and rituals. Host dinners and dances. So those who work in the castle can move freely between here and the city, visiting their family without fear, without being accompanied by me or Kenisius.

So Alessia can make this her home.

A sneeze down the hall catches my attention. My eyes flick to Fern’s door just in time to see a streak of long, burgundy hair whipping around the corner. The door shuts with a not-so-subtle click.

I glance at the ceiling and groan, wondering how much she heard. I don’t worry she’ll tell anyone, but I prefer my business private.

Sennah steps up beside me, her sharp eyes narrowed toward the now-closed door. “Is that going to be a problem?”

I rub my forehead. “I think not.” She’s so deep into the wine, so high on moonberries, that her blood is less fueling than ever. It tastes worse the more she indulges—spoiled almost with the wrongness of faerie magic. It's part of why I’ve been so indulgent with the recent human trespassers in the woods—why I’m so afraid of keeping Alessia close.

What happens when Fern’s blood no longer satiates me? If the bloodlust overwhelms me?

“Have you found anything to help her yet?” I ask Sennah, referring to Fern.

She shakes her head. “Human addiction and faerie magic aren’t well-documented. It’s not a surprise, considering how our realms are constantly at war.”

She’s right. I’d imagine alliances between the two groups—if any—have remained relatively quiet.

“I’ll reach out to a few more connections, but…”

“But what, Sennah?”

“Why?”

I grimace, trying and failing to hide the irritation at her prying. “I told you already. Her blood is too diluted. I need the magic out of her system.”

“If you help her overcome the addiction, you won’t have anything left to bargain with. Who says she will stay as your snack?”

I turn, fighting a heavy sigh. “Let me worry about that.”

Either way, I had already planned to find a new blood source. It doesn’t matter if I made a deal with Fern—keeping her and stealing her freedom doesn’t make me any better than the lord, who kept Alessia for selfish reasons. Fern deserves to live a life free of addiction… free of me.

It’s time to rethink her role within my court, and offer her a better deal—one that extends my protections, without me relying on her for blood.

But I’m not ready to share that with Sennah. I don’t need her to think I’m growing soft. However, something tells me she might already believe that.

Sennah tuts at me, eyes sparkling. “Is this because you have a new human to care for your… needs?” A snicker escapes her. “Maybe she’ll find it kinky, and you’ll both get something out of it. ”

“For fae’s sake.” My cheeks blaze. I turn too fast, and my elbow catches something. Shattering fills the air. At my feet lies a broken pot, dirt strewn about. A sad succulent lies beside the shards of glass, homeless now, thanks to my careless movement.

“Getting worked up, Rai?”

“Sennah,” I snap. Taking a deep breath, I bend and cup the plant carefully.

She kneels beside me, gripping my wrist. “Let me.” Her voice is soft and empathetic. “Grab a new pot.”

I locate an empty ceramic pot and set it next to her. With the flick of her wrist, the soil spirals into the air, sifting out the shards of glass. It glides to the pot, effortlessly settling in its new undamaged home. The succulent trembles in my hand, then it too lifts and burrows itself perfectly into the soil.

“Ta-da,” Sennah says with a broad smile. For a moment, I see Eoin in the expression. It’s his smile she wears, the resemblance often uncanny.

“Useful,” I say. If only fixing the curse was that easy, too.

“What would you do if we undo the curse anyways? You have no treaty protecting you from the humans, should they choose to invade.”

“Who says I need protection from them?”

Her lips press together, and she gives me an annoyed look. “You have no army, Rainer.”

“I don’t need one.” Actually, I never needed one before . But now… stepping into the old armory today made me realize I could put those weapons to use. Securing an army would mean further protecting Alessia .

“Males and their egos.” She stoops and picks up the giant shards of the broken pot. “Maybe if you and Eoin can play nice, I’ll spare some of our army to guard the forest after we break the curse— if we can. That’s all I request: you and Eoin getting along.”

“Or you could spare it regardless. You have more than enough warriors, and you are the one in charge. Not that sycophantic shite.”

“Rainer.” This time, it’s Sennah whose tone is sharp. “That is still my brother we’re talking about.” She places the broken ceramic in a pile and plants her hand on a hip. “Eoin already finds our friendship discomfiting. I imagine he wouldn’t take kindly if he found out I handed a portion of our army over to his supposed enemy.”

“He hates me for no reason,” I mutter. He’s a condescending, egotistical prick. I have many reasons for hating him, but he started it. All three of us were friends once upon a time. He’s the one who woke up one day and decided he was too good for me—making fun of my tainted magic and lackluster flowers.

I scowl at the memory of his personality shift.

“If you two can put aside your differences, we can all move forward together. I have plenty of warriors to spare.”

The way she says it sounds almost like a warning. I pick up on the meaning behind her words. If I don’t play nice, or if I betray her friendship and cause more friction with her brother, she won’t hesitate to put that army to use—against me.

It’s infuriatingly clever.

With a faint smile, I say, “I suppose I’ll try my best.” I cock a brow. “Perhaps if Eoin knew the truth about—”

“ No ,” she says, her voice low and sharp. “There are things that don’t involve him, this being one of them. You can’t tell him.”

A long pause stretches between us.

“I won’t,” I finally say, gritting my teeth and turning away. “I am a male of my word, Sennah. You know this.”

“Indeed.” She sighs. “You’ve been… unlike yourself lately, though. It would be best if you found a way to work through your pent-up anger,” she says pointedly.

She’s not wrong. I’m on edge. Between Tynan still not found, the human queen’s assassins, the shite with the woods, and worst of all, not seeing Alessia in my dreams, I’m exhausted.

“Is there anything I can do to help? Other than wasting my magic on these plants.” She gestures toward the many potted plants scattered around.

“Keep your brother away from Alessia.”

She snickers. “I should’ve known.” Then, her face grows serious. “It’s the Prosperity Ball in a few days. We’re hosting visitors from other courts. I assure you Eoin will be much too busy to bother your human. In the meantime, you need to get your shite together.”

“I’m trying.”

“Our realm is only as strong as our weakest court,” she says softly.

I growl. “Are you calling Umbra weak?”

“I’m saying maybe it’s time to let go, Rainer.”

Turning away from her, I pretend to busy myself with a fiddle-leaf fig. I stare at it until my eyes dry out and my vision wavers, but I don’t say another word during our time together.

Because she’s wrong.

It’s not time to let go.

I’ll never let go.