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

21. I’m Going In

twenty-one

I’m Going In

Alessia

H ours go by until Ezamae returns with proper clothing for us.

“Excuse the delay,” he says with a smirk. “I got caught up in an errand.”

We change into thick pants, boots, and cloaks, and then he presents me with another roasted bird with roots and soft-baked bread.

“You need to eat,” Ezamae says. “Here—it’s fresh.” He sets it on a side table beside the couch.

Reluctantly, I drag myself over to the meal and oblige. If I’m going to keep my strength up, I should probably nourish myself properly.

Ezamae feeds the fire, watching Eoin and me with interest as we eat on the couch.

“Your food is awful,” Eoin says through a mouthful of bread. He makes a face.

I share a long look with Ezamae, who eventually pries his gaze from mine and looks to Eoin. “You are more than welcome to return to your own court if you find my sustenance is not up to par with your low-grade tastebuds.”

I choke on a mouthful of meat, trying to stifle my laugh. Eoin’s face turns red, and he mutters something under his breath. The cloak Ezamae gave him has more than a few holes. It’s a muddy brown color, a tad raggedy, and the material looks scratchy, whereas the navy cloak I’m wearing is fur-lined with a thick, soft material like velvet.

I’m glad he likes me more than Eoin, at least.

Ezamae passes me a canteen attached to a leather strap. Our fingers brush, and he winks at me. I snatch it away and turn my back to him, looping the strap over my shoulder and across my chest.

“How long is this journey, exactly?” I ask, unamused and unsettled.

“Do you know how far Ethyria is?” Eoin asks. “It’s a trek from here, Alessia.”

“We’re not going to the capital.” Ezamae flicks his wrist, summoning a powerful breeze.

Air whips across my skin, suffocating the flames in the pit in a split second. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

Fingering the soft, velvety material and fur lining my cloak’s hood, I tug it over my hair, tucking the tangled strands inside. I tighten my dagger’s strap and ensure the weapon is easily accessible through the cloak’s opening, just in case.

Eoin gathers his knapsack while Ezamae watches him with a hawk-like gaze.

“Where else would we go, Ezamae?” Eoin shoves the wool blanket into his knapsack, beating the thing up to get it to fit. He shakes the sack, then swings it over his back, looping his arms through the straps. “That’s where Rainer is, and we don’t have the benefit of time to go off on a merry adventure.”

A growl bubbles in my throat, and both faeries whip their heads in my direction .

“It doesn’t matter to you where we are going, Eoin ,” I say. I’m glad I don’t have to apologize for being rude or unladylike because I don’t think I would anyway.

It’s his fault we’re in this mess in the first place.

His fault we don’t have time.

“We’re going to the Cave of Reflection,” Ezamae says to Eoin, keeping his gaze on mine. He gives me a subtle nod, and relief courses through me, knowing he’s protecting my dreamwalking secret.

I still don’t trust the silver-haired prince, but he’s a few steps— no , a few flights—up from Eoin. He’s the closest thing I have to an ally right now. And I don’t need to trust him. Hell, I don’t even need to like him for him to help me. Even if there is something in it for him, I can’t find it in me to care so long as I get Rainer back alive.

“Why in sweet Avylon would we go there ?” A sarcastic laugh comes out of him, and I clench my jaw in irritation. “There is absolutely nothing there for a human.”

Ezamae stomps out of the cottage without responding, and I follow suit. The bright light of morning caresses the sky, but the sun is nowhere to be seen. A chilly breeze kisses my skin, and I shiver, pulling the cloak around me.

“We’re wasting time. It’s pointless to go…” Eoin continues yapping, and I try to zone him out.

Ezamae leads us to a downward-sloping trail nestled into the mountainside. I glance back, hoping to see the palace one last time, but clouds obstruct my view. Instead, I follow the Aer Prince.

Most of the terrain is made up of rocks and grey clay, with patches of coarse vegetation in shades of golden, brown, and green. Eventually, tall, spindly spruces sprout up around us, tapering down the side of the mountain.

In the distance, even taller snow-capped mountains tower over us, merging into the clouds.

I exhale a puff of white air, awed by its expansiveness. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s a humbling reminder of how small and insignificant this life is, but in the best way.

The males exchange words, but I can’t pry my eyes from the sights. Glancing off the side of the mountain, I almost lose my balance. My head grows light, and I no longer trust my legs to hold me upright. Carefully, I squat down, digging my fingers into the ground. The roughness bites into my skin, and I exhale in relief at feeling closer to the ground as I peer over the edge.

“You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” Ezamae asks.

My throat is thick as I answer, “I don’t know.” I glance up at his uncomfortably handsome face, and I scowl when I find him smirking down at me. “I’ve never been higher than three stories.” The lord would occasionally have me climb on the roof to clean the chimney, but it was nothing like this. “We’re above the clouds, for crying out loud,” I choke out.

Ezamae laughs. “My favorite place to be.”

When I glance at him, he’s watching me with a serene smile. There’s not a wrinkle to be found on his porcelain skin, and it makes me crave Rainer and his dimples. I miss how his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles and the little line on his forehead when I say or do something to stress him out.

Even with the pain, mistakes, and distance between us, I crave Rainer. A lump forms in my stomach, and the amusement melts away. Eoin was right about one thing—we shouldn’t be wasting time.

“Where is this mysterious cave, anyways?” I ask Ezamae, standing on shaky legs.

"Not just any cave— the Cave." He doesn’t reach out to steady me or try to help, which I’m grateful for. I don’t need assistance. I don’t need pitying or coddling.

“You are both feckin’ mad.” Eoin grumbles, catching up to us. “And it’s a waste of time.”

Eoin’s a backstabber, and there is no way I’ll tell him why we're really going.

“Come on.” Ezamae leads the way.

Eoin curses under his breath, pulling his hood over his head. He strides in front of me, gazing around the mountain. His golden hair peeks through a gaping hole in the back of the cloak.

I snort, finding humor despite the bleak situation.

The path the Aer Prince leads us on is narrow, winding between closely lined spruces, and I elbow Eoin out of the way, passing him to follow Ezamae more closely.

We descend the steep trail steadily and slowly. My head grows progressively woozier as I continue to suck in rapid breaths.

Ezamae stops suddenly, and I crash into his back. He turns to me, and I step back.

“Here,” he says.

He flicks his wrist. It’s a subtle movement, barely a flinch, but the air thickens, filling my lungs in a much more satisfying way. I take a few deep breaths and immediately want to pelt him with thanks.

Eoin pants behind me. “Did you do something?” He doubles over, gasping for breath. “I… I don’t feel a difference.”

Ezamae ignores him, turning back to the trail and resuming the trek. I bite my lip to keep from smiling at the passive-aggressive torture Ezamae is inflicting on Eoin. It warms me up to the Aer Prince, and I can’t wait to tell Ken he was right—Ezamae does have a petty side.

“What if he’s right and this is a waste of time?” I glance back at Eoin, chuckling when I catch his teeth chattering and his face as red as a tomato. From the cold, the wind, or lack of air, I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter.

“If the Cave deems you worthy, Fate will give you a gift.”

My eyes widen. “Magic?”

“Not always.”

“Who is Fate?”

“A god of sorts.”

I buzz excitedly, unable to wrap my mind around meeting a god and potentially unlocking some dormant magic inside me.

Ezamae gazes ahead and makes a soft sound in his throat. “We’re almost there.”

My forehead wrinkles in confusion. “We’ve been close this entire time?”

Ezamae chuckles, glancing at me over his shoulder. When his gaze passes me, I peek at Eoin behind me. His mouth moves rapidly, and he has a wild look in his eye, but only silence comes out.

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask.

“I’m manipulating the air around us so he can’t hear us and we can’t hear him,” Ezamae says with a chuckle.

My eyebrows rise. “I rather like your power.” Except for the way he recharges. “Is it wise to use it so casually, though?”

The path widens enough that I can join Ezamae’s side. He smirks at me. “No fretting. It’s windwalking that takes the most out of me.”

I make a contemplative noise and side-eye Ezamae. “How are we so coincidentally close to the same mysterious Cave we’re seeking?”

“Perhaps I was in the right place at the right time,” he says cryptically. “Perhaps Fate brought us together.”

Eoin pops up behind Ezamae, waving his hand and flapping his lips.

Ezamae glances at Eoin and sighs. “Hold that thought.” He flicks his wrist, and the air lightens almost imperceptibly.

“—piss these fancy pants!” Eoin says breathlessly.

“What?” Ezamae says to him.

“Finally… you breezy bastard!” Eoin gulps air, bending over with his hands on his knees. “Thirty seconds. That’s all I’m asking.”

We stop, and Eoin’s eyes flutter shut in relief. He holds up a finger and then bolts into the foliage beside the trail. He weaves through a few trees before the clinging of a belt buckle filters through the air.

I share an awkward glance with Ezamae as the sound of a high-pressure stream of liquid reaches my ears.

“We should leave him,” I whisper.

Ezamae gives me a coy smile and then nods. We resume our journey, leaving Eoin behind in the trees.

“Wait!” Eoin’s screech cuts through the peaceful silence. “Don’t leave— ”

His voice cuts out as Ezamae’s air bubble goes back up around us. “Is he always this annoying?” Ezamae sighs.

“I think so,” I admit. “You know him better than I do.”

“No. I once knew his sister quite well.”

I catch the implication in his voice, and my cheeks heat.

“I know little about him ,” he says. “Quite an arrogant, selfish prick he is, eh?”

“The understatement of a lifetime, Ezamae.”

“Ez.” He glances at me with a soft expression.

“Hm?”

“My friends call me Ez.”

I don’t respond for a minute, and the silence stretches into an awkward pause.

Friends .

There’s a natural ease and comfort with him, and perhaps when I first arrived here—naive and hopeful—I would’ve grasped that label with both hands. But I’m a little hesitant to embrace the extension of friendship.

“Fate can see the threads of the future,” Ez says. “The past, the present, and the future. Chain reactions of events, various outcomes, things of that sort.”

“So we might be able to see the future?”

Ezamae is silent for a moment. “There might be an outcome where we can prevent Rainer’s death.”

Those last two words make my chest collapse in on itself. Even with Ez’s air bubble providing extra oxygen, I can’t breathe for a second.

“He can’t die,” I whisper. Ez gives me a pitying look. “Don’t look at me like that. I won’t let him.”

“I’ ll help however I can.”

His words sound genuine, but they’re hard to accept. There must be a reason he’s so adamant about helping, but I don’t see it yet.

Eoin catches up to us. He must’ve penetrated Ezamae’s invisible barrier because his heavy panting becomes audible again.

“Go away, Orion,” Ezamae says flatly.

“What is your prob—ahhhh!” Eoin screams.

I turn just in time to catch him flailing as a gust of wind pushes him toward the cliff’s edge.

“Bastard!” He screams. “No!”

Gasping, I reach up and grab Ezamae’s arm. “You’re going to kill him!”

The Aer Prince smirks. “He can heal.” With another quick flick of his wrist, he sends Eoin careening over the edge.

My stomach twists with horror as I run to the cliff’s edge and drop to my knees, gazing over.

When I spot Eoin on a ledge only a few feet below me, I exhale and sit back on my haunches. My hand trembles as I run it over my face.

“You could’ve killed him!” I glare at Ezamae.

He shrugs nonchalantly as he continues following the path. “Like I said, he can heal.”

" Leave him. " The sudden command takes me aback. I can’t just leave him here. " He deserves worse. He would leave you, too. "

"Hush," I mutter angrily.

" It’s too bad he didn’t fall all the way— "

“Stop it,” I yell, quelling the dark voice pestering me.

But instead of reaching down to help pull Eoin back up, I jump to my feet and catch up to Ezamae, leaving a bellowing Eoin behind.

“That was cruel,” I hiss at Ez.

“So is abandoning him in his time of need.”

I glance back at where we left Eoin, swallowing the lump of guilt in my throat. I hate that I empathize with him after everything he’s done.

Ezamae snickers, and I narrow my eyes at him.

“What?” I ask. “Just because I don’t want him dead doesn’t mean I don’t want him to suffer.” Gods, the fae really are rubbing off on me.

“Fair enough.” He clears his throat. “However, I wasn’t entirely cruel. Had he not overstepped his boundaries, he would not have found himself stuck on the side of a cliff.”

“Fair enough,” I mimic. Perhaps now would be a good time to ask Ezamae some questions that have been burning my mind. I try to sound casual as I ask, “So what’s the deal with demons and fae?”

He studies me for a few seconds before returning to the path ahead.

“Demons are fae,” he says.

I frown. “But why are they ostracized?”

“Magic is sourced from two places.” He holds up a finger, and I nearly trip over my feet as I anxiously await what he’ll say. “Darkness—such as spirits, souls, or death.” He holds up a second finger. “Or light—such as from nature, the self, or pleasure.”

“But why are demons banned if they’re technically fae?”

“The queen turned the fae against their own kind, deeming those who fuel themselves from dark magic a demon. She claimed that only the fae who derive their magic from nature, the land, elements, or pleasure, were pure.”

I don’t even know how to process it. So I am fae? Or half-fae? Demon is just the label I get stuck with because of someone’s archaic bias? It’s like being stuck in the Trade in Dovenak just because someone else decided it.

“So since Rainer drinks blood to stave off his bloodlust and recharge, he’s considered a demon?” I ask, stepping over unruly roots. “Since he feeds off someone else’s blood?”

“Exactly.”

“But his fearcaller power—that’s considered fae? Why? He’s feeding off fears .”

“Because he's not feeding off their fears. Using fearcaller magic does not fuel him. It drains him. Whereas drinking blood as a vampyr fuels him.”

“It makes little sense,” I mutter. “I don’t understand the divide.”

“Exactly.” Ez sighs, leading us through a clearing. “We’re here.”

The mountain levels off, and bright, sparkling wildflowers in shades of blue sway gently in patches of grass. I squint.

“Moonberries grow at this elevation,” Ezamae tells me.

I squint at the flowers, noticing now that they’re not flowers but moonberries. The berry bushes sprout up in the vast open space, birthed in the cracks and ridges of the uneven terrain. They waver in the soft breeze leading up to the mountain’s edge. Small, iridescent berries shaped like crescent moons sit ready to be plucked.

I flush, thinking of the time I straddled Rainer in the grass, high on moonberries. They seriously lowered my inhibitions .

I’m tempted to pocket some berries and shove them down Eoin’s throat to learn his honest intentions. That is, if he ever catches up with us.

Do it .

Feck it. I carefully pluck a few of the crescent moon-shaped berries, stuffing them into my empty canteen for safekeeping. Ezamae raises his brows, humor playing on his lips, but he says nothing.

I shrug.

A few paces away, a male with golden hair pops up. His lips are stained purplish-blue. Behind him, shimmering white wings expand from his body, and he gives us a wave before shooting off into the sky.

I blink a few times, stunned and silent.

Ezamae continues through the field, unfazed by the sight. I should get used to the unusual by now.

“What was that?” I ask him.

“An Angelli. Their kind is almost extinct.” His eyes flick toward the sky. “Hundreds of years ago, they were great warriors. The front lines in the War of Chaos.”

“What happened?”

He gives me a pitying look. “Many died. Some fled the realm. And many of the remaining Angelli refused to reproduce, not wanting to risk subjecting their offspring to the same horrors they witnessed.” Before I can reply, he continues, “Though a few remain loyal to their bloodline and serve in the armies around Avylon. Ah—we’re here.”

On this side of the moonberry field, an enormous cave entrance is carved into the mountain. I peer inside. Mirror-like crystals line the ceiling and walls, jutting out like jagged icicles. A few by the entrance catch the sun, and prisms of rainbow color dance around the cave walls.

“That wasn’t far at all,” I say. “Why didn’t we just walk here last night?”

“The Cave of Reflection only works once dawn breaks and the sun wakes,” Ezamae says, squinting up at the sky.

“Why?”

“You need the light to see, of course.”

Heavy footsteps crunch over rocks and grass, growing closer. I turn. Eoin struggles to catch up to us, his hair matted with sweat. “I hate it up here,” he mutters.

Good. I narrow my eyes at him.

“You must go in alone,” Ez tells me. “This is yours alone to face.”

I nod, wringing my hands in my cloak. Rainer said to find this place, and I trust him. I’m going in.