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

27. What If I’ve Gone Mad?

twenty-seven

What If I’ve Gone Mad?

Alessia

W ith a groan, I lift my stiff body from the ground. The cave is empty; just the remains of the fire smolder beside me. I stretch and rub my brow before dragging myself out of the cave toward the soft morning light.

Great. We lost another day.

Where are Ez and Eoin?

The high has faded away, and my wits have returned. But my mind is stuck on the unexpected revelations of what happened in the cave.

I can’t lie on moonberries… which means that I stabbed myself?

And I failed my trials?

It doesn’t make sense.

Ezamae stands among the trees lining the edge of the mountain. His silver hair gleams like a blade, and when he turns to face me, his expression is as sharp as mine.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Nodding, I tuck my arms back into the cloak, wrapping it around me. His expression softens.

“You knew.” I keep my chin up and my shoulders back, staring him down. “You knew what I was before I did, didn’t you?”

He gives me a soft smile, and it’s not sarcastic or coy. No, it’s almost pitying and regretful .

“I told you, I hear secrets whispered on the wind,” he says.

“What else have you heard?”

“Many things, dearest, but I’m not fond of spilling secrets.”

“You collect them for yourself, huh?”

He chuckles. “Like treasures.”

I study him. Sennah once called him a gossip, yet he doesn’t speak about others.

“Your trial…” I eventually say. “What was it?”

Ezamae stuffs his hands in his pockets and kicks a rock. It skitters across the path and down the steep drop of the mountain beside us. “Does it make a difference to know?”

I chew my lip. “It could.”

His mouth twists as his eyes go glossy, searching for something on the horizon.

“I had only known certain sides of myself when I entered the caves as a younger faeling.” Leisurely, his head turns until he’s facing me. His silver eyes burn into me as he studies me. “I was on a different path when I was younger. A self-destructive one. I used other fae to get what I wanted. I manipulated without remorse.” A few stray curls fall into his face, and he blows upward, causing them to billow above his forehead. He reaches up, pushing them back when they don’t cooperate. “I saw the repercussions of my actions long before they happened. There were many paths Fate showed me that day, but only one led to a future I wanted.”

“Oh,” I whisper, turning away from his powerful gaze. I squint at the distant horizon.

“I saw the good I could do with my power—beyond providing extraordinary sensual pleasure, of course.” His tone is teasing, causing me to laugh .

I glance at him from the corner of my eye to see he’s still staring at me. My cheeks heat, and I wrap my cloak tighter around myself as if it’s a shield from more than just the weather.

“You once asked me why I wanted to help you,” he says.

I give a sharp nod.

“Helping you isn’t entirely selfless like I led you to believe. Helping you leads me to the future I saw—the one I want more than anything.”

“What was in that future?” I pause, then reply, “You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, it’s… complicated. But I…” He shifts his weight. “I felt freedom,” he finally whispers. “True freedom.”

The words ring through my skull, resonating. “I can underst—”

A loud grumble rips through the air behind me, and I jerk toward the noise. Loose rocks slide under my feet, and I gasp, tilting to the side. Ezamae’s hand flashes out, catching my arm. He steadies me before quickly releasing me.

Another growl rings out, followed by cursing.

“Stark raving mad, I tell you!” Eoin stomps toward me. Ezamae sidesteps to form a wall between me and Eoin. I’m not afraid of the Terra Prince, though, so I move from behind Ezamae and face Eoin without fear.

“He attempted his trials again,” Ezamae whispers. “While you were asleep.”

“I take it he failed?” I murmur.

“Every single time, that lunatic in the mirror babbles at me. He won’t give me proper instruction!” Eoin roars. “How am I supposed to know what he wants?”

He ?

“What exactly did you see in there?” I ask, studying him.

“The old male in the mirrathyst. He stares at me with wild eyes and yells incoherently. I tried to break the crystals to free him, and I was blasted straight onto my arse.” He runs his hands over his face, cursing to himself.

“What did this male look like?”

“I don’t know! Greying hair. Goldish eyes. Fae by the sight of his ears. Looked much more distinguished than he sounded.”

I exhale heavily. He didn't see Char. Did I ever actually see her, too? Or was that an illusion?

No. It couldn’t have been. It was really her—I know it.

“What else did you see?” I ask.

“Nothing!” He throws his hands up. “The old fae wanted to argue, but I couldn’t even understand the fecker.”

There’s nothing I can offer him other than a hunch that it was himself he saw reflected back in the mirrathyst—possibly another version of himself.

I exhale heavily. It’s not my place. He needs to figure it out himself, and only he can unravel the meaning.

Now I understand why Ez and Char withhold information from me instead of telling me what I want to hear. It’s because we need to make our own decisions, go through our own learning, and face things once we’re ready. We can be guided and led by others—even by Fate itself—but sometimes, we must discover the truths ourselves.

Something else Char said echoes in my skull.

“ You must face yourself. All of yourself .”

I inhale sharply, surprise hitting me. Maybe I got it all wrong. The shadow said something similar to Char… was that shadow I saw a part of me? Is that why I failed? Because I didn’t simply deny the darkness, but I tried to harm it?

Were my wounds a punishment?

I catch Ez staring at me with a strange look, so I school my features and face Eoin.

“Try again later,” I offer lightly, thinking that maybe I’ll try again someday, too. “Maybe it’s not your time yet.”

His shoulders soften, the fight leaving his body. “It’s not fair.”

“Life seldom is,” Ez says.

He glances at the sky, and I follow his gaze. The sun peeks from behind the mountain range, settling into its late morning throne. Wispy strips of cloud fight to obscure the rays, but the sun fights harder to brighten the land. It’s enough to offer my skin a warm kiss but not enough to ward off the elevation’s chill.

“Can we go now?” I ask, getting antsy. We’ve wasted enough time here.

“Unfortunately, I have previous engagements.” Ezamae shoots me a pinched look.

“—nonsensical, preposterous, absurd,” Eoin rants to himself.

I scowl at Eoin and then return my attention to Ez.

“You’re leaving us?” I ask.

He rests his chin on a fist, cupping his elbow with his other hand for support. “Temporarily, yes. However, I will bring you both as far down the mountain as possible.”

I nod sharply, accepting his help for what it is—anything to get us closer to Rainer.

We windwalk together in intervals, Ezamae staying true to his word as he brings us down the mountain. Like the flora around us, the air slowly grows denser with the descent .

At one of the stops, perspiration beads on Ez’s forehead. He pulls out a small cloth, dabbing it gently before folding it and tucking it into his pocket. “Alas, I must go.”

“We’re nowhere near Ethyria,” Eoin complains, squinting around.

Ez sighs and glances up at the sky again as if gauging the time by the sun’s movement across the sky. “It’s awfully draining, windwalking a sack of worthless meat and bones around.”

Eoin grumbles under his breath. “Would it hurt to take us to the edge of the city?”

“That would still take time; believe it or not, I have my own commitments to tend.” Ezamae adjusts the lapels of his jacket, cocking a brow at Eoin. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, because I’m not a big, powerful princeling?” Eoin asks sarcastically.

“Well, when you put it like that.” Ez inclines his chin. “Plus, I must recharge my magic once again.”

“You mean you can’t go an hour without wetting your cock?” Eoin mutters.

“Gross.” I rub my forehead. I’d rather not have an image of Ez recharging in my mind. “Can you not?”

Ez huffs. “I understand you don’t require recharging—”

“As if screwing your way through Avylon is a price to pay, you whore,” Eoin snaps.

Hurt flashes across Ezamae’s face, and then his expression goes blank. He swallows thickly, looking away. When he picks up his pace, I don’t hurry after him. Instead, I hang back to address the Terra Prince .

“Eoin!” I admonish. “Ezamae is going out of his way to help us, knock it off.”

“I pay the price of my magic plenty,” Eoin mutters, seething.

“Yes, you do,” I agree, placating him. “That is not up for debate.”

“I feel everything I absorb at a much greater intensity than the originally wounded folk!” He crosses his arms. “It’s a steep price, yet I continue to heal despite it.”

“It’s not a competition!” I’m tempted to tell him to apologize to the Aer Prince, but I know it won’t do any good. Feckin’ fae. “Just—just stop being an arse for one day.”

Ez stops and clears his throat, snagging our attention.

“Head west.” He points into the distance. “There’s a small cottage on the edge of the forest. It’s a few days on foot.” His eyes glaze over. “Follow the stream. An old friend lives there—Seraphina. Tell her I sent you.”

Before I can respond, he disappears with a shimmering gust of air.

“Few days?” I rub my eyes. Walking for days with Eoin?

This is a recipe for disaster.

Left without options, I heed Ez’s advice, trudging on with a smart-mouthed Eoin filling the air with his drivel.

We walk west, putting the mountain range behind us. The peaks stretch into the distant horizon to the north, south, and east, some parts as sharp as Rainer’s vampyr incisors. The ragged edges jut from the earth, piercing the clouds as if attempting to draw blood from the sky. White coats the highest points, and despite the warmth blanketing me down here, I shiver at the memory of bitter air slicing my skin.

Three days pass. Ezamae doesn’t appear, and I don’t sleep well enough on the forest floor to see Rainer for more than brief conversations. We’ve finished the food Ez packed for us today, so we need to figure something out if we don’t find the cottage by tonight.

Or if Ezamae doesn’t come back.

Eoin squats down by the bubbling stream, catching water in the canteens one by one. Scents of pine and moist soil fill the air. Sunlight glows as it kisses my face through the branches, and it’s deceptively calming with the birdsong and singing stream.

Eoin beckons for me, and I bring him my empty canteen.

“ Push him in. "

“What?” My head snaps up, scanning the trees. A tremble courses through my body. I haven't heard that voice since the Cave.

Eoin gives me a strange look, then unscrews the lid, leaning into the stream.

“ Push him in! ”

A strong urge overcomes me, and I plant my hands on Eoin’s shoulder, shoving him. He screams, landing with a splash. He sputters when he sits upright, the water coming up to his waist.

Cackling laughter, an echo of my voice, fills the trees.

“Do you hear that?” I ask, spinning.

Eoin says something, but I don’t hear it. My eyes lock on a dark, shadowy figure darting between trees.

I point. “There! Eoin! Do you see it? ”

“You’re a feckin’ lunatic.” He splashes his way to shore, his face red and hands fisted at his side. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I—I don’t know.” I take in his soaked trousers, wincing at the realization that I pushed him in for no good reason—because I heard a voice in my head.

I get up and bolt away from Eoin, not bothering to offer useless apologies. Stuffing myself behind a wide tree trunk, I drop to the ground and lean against it.

Eoin’s right. I am a lunatic. No one else can see or hear the shadow. Only I can—and it talks in my voice now, telling me to do… bad things.

Worse? I listened. I pushed Eoin.

He’s fine, but what if next time it’s a fire ? Or worse, if it’s someone I care about and I hurt them?

Hell, I already stabbed myself in the cave. How am I strong and capable enough to rescue Rainer when I can’t even tell reality from illusion?

What if I’ve gone mad?