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

33. You Were My Friend

thirty-three

You Were My Friend

Alessia

My blood is still buzzing from last night’s dream, the feel of Rainer’s hands lingering on my skin. I’m eager to get to him—to feel his touch in real life.

I stifle a yawn, tugging on my boots and lacing them up.

“Are you sure you can’t stay for breakfast?” Seraphina asks with a frown in the morning.

“I appreciate all you’ve done for us, but we need to go,” I say.

“Here.” She hands a white ceramic container with a green lid to me. “Take stew for the road, at least.”

“What about me?” Eoin mutters.

“Oh, yes, of course.” Seraphina hurries to the kitchen, grabs a blue container, and quickly thrusts it at Eoin. “This one doesn’t have garlic.”

When the morning sun kissed my skin, rousing me from rest, I woke Eoin. Sera was kind enough to help me comb out my curls and give me fresh clothing, which further softened me toward her. The dress and tights she provided me are durable but lightweight, offering more substance than her leafy, whimsical ensemble.

“I’ll have Ezamae return these when we’re finished,” I say, holding up the container in place of thanks. I ensure the lid is on tight, and then I stick the container and my cloak in Eoin’s pack.

We took turns carrying it on the journey, and now it’s my turn again. Looping my arms through the straps, I bid Sera farewell.

As we stride into the forest, I pause and turn back. Sera stands in her doorway, a reluctance on her face, almost like guilt, as if there’s something she wishes to say. I stay still, giving her a moment to speak up, but she only waves, then enters her cottage and shuts the door.

Shaking it off, I follow Eoin deeper into the woods. We leave the cottage behind, making our way west in silence. Only the sharp crunch underfoot and the birdsong overhead accommodate our journey. The morning air is already warm and muggy.

We walk for hours. The brush isn’t as dense and unruly here as previous parts were, but there’s no actual path. My hair drives me crazy, getting in my face. I reach up and pull it back, braiding it and tying it off with a strip of leather.

“What is that ?” Eoin’s face is stretched in horror. He points toward me.

I wipe my face, glancing down to locate the apparent offense. “What’s what?”

“On your neck!”

My heart stutters as I reach up, gently brushing the place where Rainer bit me. My finger caresses two little bumps in the exact spot he fed. I gasp, a smile blossoming on my face.

No fecking way.

“It worked,” I whisper, relief spreading through my chest.

“What did you do?” Eoin asks, appalled.

I glance at him out of the side of my eye, unsure what to tell him. “Is there any way you might heal me? ”

I’m not ashamed of Rainer’s mark on my skin, but I fear what might happen if the other fae discover the truth. The less attention I attract, the better.

And I’d rather not explain things to Ezamae, either.

“Not unless you tell me what you did.” He continues to walk while staring at me, blinking with disbelief. “You left last night? To see a…” He glances around, then steps closer to me. “A vampyr . Are you mad? Is… is it a kink ?”

“ Eoin ,” I hiss, putting space between us. “It’s not what you think.”

“I’m not healing you until you tell me the truth.”

I suppress a groan. “It’s complicated.”

He laughs sarcastically. “It’s probably less complicated than the other shite we’ve dealt with this week.”

I bite my bottom lip, weighing my options. I don’t know what else this journey has in store or who else we might see, and I’d rather not raise any questions.

“Eoin… I can’t tell you. Can you just...?” I gesture to my neck, not wanting to say the words do me a favor , either, because that’ll land me in another complication at this rate.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I can’t.”

“Then I can’t help you.” He storms past me, huffing his way through the forest.

I watch Eoin go. His shoulders are tight and tense. He stomps a little more aggressively than necessary.

Maybe the issue isn’t that he wants to know to hold it against me. Perhaps he doesn’t want to be left out for once. It could be a great mistake to trust Eoin, but after last night, we made progress .

I could take a chance on him and offer friendship, hopefully facilitating his change trajectory.

Sighing, I make my decision.

“Eoin—wait.” I bolt toward him. He doesn’t stop to let me catch up. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

We pause, facing each other. He arches a brow at me. I glance around, wondering if it’s safe to speak freely. I haven’t seen pixies in quite some time, but I’m more concerned about Ezamae’s brother—the windwhisperer.

I don’t even know if he and Ez are the only ones who can hear secrets on the wind—nor do I know how that magic works.

Taking a risk, I point to my neck. “This looks familiar, right?”

“No shite. You—”

“Shh!” I press a hand to his mouth. “Not out loud.”

He bats my hand away, rolling his eyes. But he grins. “You’re starting to fit in a little more each day.”

I suck in a deep breath, wringing my hands out. “I didn’t leave last night.”

“Okay…”

“I slept. I had a wonderful dream about a certain prince.” I gesture to my neck again, hoping he understands.

It takes him a minute. He stares at me, brows drawn. His mouth tugs into a frown as he appears to contemplate my words.

“Wait…” His eyes widen, and he steps toward me. “You saw…” He trails off. “Him?” He points to my neck.

“Yes.”

“And he…?”

“ Yes , Eoin!” I chuckle, feeling somewhat lighter at the admission.

His face goes pale, and he pushes his hair back with a hand. He blows out a stream of air and then walks around in a little circle. “That fecker !”

“No, it’s okay. It was consensual.” My face heats at the prospect of telling Eoin the details of what happened. It’s not for him to know. All he needs to know is that I wanted it.

He doesn’t seem to hear me as he continues to pace, mumbling to himself. Finally, he glances at me, a weird look on his face. Then he breaks out into a fit of laughter. He laughs so hard he doubles over, gripping his side.

I stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to finish.

“Alessia…” he finally says, catching his breath. “It makes much more sense why he so confidently sent you away with me.” He chuckles again, shaking his head. “You sneaky bastards.”

“He told me not to tell anyone.” I give him a warning look. “You better not.”

“Have you consummated it yet?” he asks.

“Have I—are you asking if we slept together?” I grimace. “Eoin, that’s not your business!”

“It’s kind of a big deal if—”

“What’s a big deal?” Ezamae asks as he casually strides over to us, his hands thrust deep into his pockets. His navy blue corset, adorned with silver seams and worn over a white silk top, perfectly matches his velvet trousers. His curly hair is styled out of his face, and his ears sparkle with blue-colored gems.

“Where the hell have you been?” I ask, both relieved and annoyed to see the Aer Prince. “It’s been days .”

Ezamae smirks at me. “I’m surprised you haven’t murdered the Terra Prince yet. ”

“He’s… redeeming himself.”

At that, Eoin puffs up his chest. “You’re not the only friend around here, Ez.”

I shake my head. “I wouldn’t go that far, Eoin.”

He deflates a little. “Oh. Well, I—”

“But we’re working on it.” I reach over to pat his shoulder. “Let’s save Rainer first, then we’ll see about being friends.”

“Pass me that,” Eoin says, gesturing to the knapsack. “We should eat while we’re stopped.”

I pass it to him. He pulls out the two bowls of stew and gives me the white one.

“This is the one with garlic, I think,” he says, scrunching his nose.

Accepting it, I perch on a boulder and glance at Ez. “Seraphina is a gracious host.” I pry off the lid, and my mouth waters at the bold scent of garlic, tomatoes, and onion. “Where have you been, Ez?”

He sighs, swiping a hand over his face. “Dealing with issues.”

“Speaking of, we have our issues to sort out.” He owes me an explanation for sending Sera to Terra Court.

Holding up the container, I tip my head back and slurp the stew.

“ That looks eventful,” Ez says, eyes lingering on my neck.

I swallow and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “It’s from last night.”

Ezamae’s eyes flash in alarm, flitting from me to Eoin, then back to me.

“Don’t worry—Eoin knows,” I tell him.

“You’re late,” Eoin adds and slurps his stew.

Ez squints at me. “I assume there is a good reason you entrusted that information with him ?” He shoots a disdainful look at Eoin .

I open my mouth to reply, but the words don’t come out. My throat feels weird. Tight. Itchy, almost. Reaching for my canteen, I gulp down some water. But it doesn’t help. Trying not to panic, I take a deep breath, but the tight feeling spreads to my gut. It lurches, roiling with anger.

The ceramic container falls from my hand, splashing my boots.

“Alessia?” Ezamae asks.

He and Eoin are at my side instantly, peering at me with twin looks of concern. I would laugh if I didn’t feel like I was going to expel my meal.

“I don’t feel so good.” Lurching to the side, I vomit on the forest floor. “I probably had too much wine last night. It’s a hangover,” I mutter, embarrassed.

“Faerie wine doesn’t cause hangovers,” Ezamae says.

My stomach lurches again, and a small gust of wind blows the loose strands of hair out of my face. Ezamae’s magical breeze helps direct the vomit away from me as I lose the rest of my stomach’s contents.

When I finish, my legs wobble, and my head spins.

“Are you okay?” Eoin asks, expression tight.

My stomach pinches, my intestines twisting into knots. I suck in a sharp breath, clutching my midsection. Sweat beads on my forehead.

Ezamae elbows Eoin. “Help her, you imbecile!”

“Shite!” Eoin reaches for my arms.

His fingers bite into my tender skin like knives piercing a ham. I hiss, pulling free. “It hurts!”

“I know!” he yells, his eyes wide, darting around frantically. “You need to stay still so I can help.”

His hand grips mine, and another sharp shock flows through me where our skin meets. “Stop! Eoin, it hurts… it… hurts.” I wrench free and double over on the ground.

He and Ezamae yell something—at me or each other, I don’t know.

Pressure sears my gut, sending white balls of fire bursting through my vision.

“It hurts,” I cry, curling into a ball. Eoin squats beside me. “Don’t touch me! It hurts. Something’s wrong.”

“Fix it, Orion!” Ezamae bellows.

“I’m trying!” Eoin leans into my line of sight. “It will take a minute to figure out where the source is. I need you to hold her down so I can help her.”

“Don’t… touch… me,” I say between deep breaths. My skin is so warm… so hot. I’m melting like a candle. “When you touch me… it’s worse.”

“I know. I know. But you need to let me help.”

I suck in deep breaths between waves of capsizing pain.

“Look at me,” Ezamae says, sitting on his haunches beside me.

I groan as another wave of blinding pain slices through my abdomen.

“Alessia, look at me,” he repeats softly.

I blink away the tears, forcing my gaze to his. A soft caress of wind blows my matted hair off my forehead, soothing my flaming skin. His eyes glow brighter, the silver shimmering like liquid glitter.

“You are a beautiful creature,” he murmurs, his lips curving up in a smirk.

His tongue darts to lick his lip and my eyes track the movement. I’ve never noticed how full and delicious his lips are until now, how perfectly smooth his skin is, how tall and graceful he is…

He steps closer, and a new heat bursts deep in my core. Beneath the pain carving me out from the inside, there’s a desire…

For Ezamae.

He’s all I want.

I focus on his feline movements as he draws nearer. Not even the pain can steal my attention from him.

“Alessia,” he breathes my name like a prayer, so close now that his lips practically brush mine.

I could lean in and press my mouth—

“You smell quite like vomit and garlic,” Ezamae whispers, crinkling his nose. He pulls back, and I reach for him, desperate to pull him closer, to rip his clothing off.

I yelp as strong hands unexpectedly grip my arms from behind. Agony briefly whooshes through me.

“Ezamae!” I scream his name, begging for him to come back—to come to me.

Every time the pain pulses in my gut, my vision and hearing warble, a suffocating darkness taking over. Before it pulls me to its depths, the feeling of Eoin’s magic overrides it. The warm tingle spreads from his palms, rising up my arms and to my throat, then down to my stomach. Everything softens, the pain and fear floating away.

I topple to the side, Eoin’s hands no longer there to steady me.

“What was that?” I wipe the tears and snot from my face. Without the affliction shackling me, I can breathe and move freely again. Ezamae stands a reasonable distance away, his back to us .

Beside me, Eoin wretches. He continues for a few moments, dry heaving until he turns his glossy stare to me. “Poison,” he mutters. “I need a moment.”

Besides a thousand thank-yous, I don’t know what to say, so I leave Eoin to purge his system in peace and chase after Ezamae. The sunlight glints off his silver hair, making it look unreal—like silver ribbons spun from silk.

He hears me coming and slowly spins to face me. If I’m not mistaken, his cheeks have a pink tinge, and he appears almost nervous.

“Glad to see you’re faring well.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, kicking a rock.

I study his face, relieved when no lust comes roaring from my depths. With an exhale, I offer him a smile.

“Are you angry with me?” he asks, studying me carefully. “Though, I’d rather you be angry than dead.”

“I get why you did it,” I say. His power of enchantment was just enough to distract me from the pain so Eoin could heal me. “You pulled back before I could kiss you, which says a lot about the male you are.”

He gives me a coy look. “Perhaps if you hadn’t eaten a heaping of garlic—then vomited said garlic in the ferns—I might have...” His face falls.

“What? What is it?”

“ Garlic. You were eating… a meal from Seraphina?”

“Yes, why?” I squint. “Do you think she—”

He disappears in a shimmering gust before I can finish my question.

On high alert, I bolt back to Eoin. He makes awful sounds as he wretches, doubled over on all fours. Sweat drenches his hair, causing the dark blonde locks to appear greasy and unwashed. His face has taken on a disturbing pallor.

I drop to my knees beside him, careful to avoid the spew on the ground. This should’ve passed by now. “What’s going on?”

“Magic.” He coughs into the grass. Red droplets fly out. “Not normal.”

The back of my neck pricks with fear. “Why aren’t you healing?”

His entire body trembles as he dry heaves. Crimson trickles from his nose.

“How can I help?”

His response is a groan.

After I fell from the tree at Umbra Court, he healed me, then quickly recovered himself—and that was a broken back. Something isn’t right here. It’s lasting too long.

Locating a canteen, I hold it to Eoin, offering him water. He doesn’t even spare it a glance, too busy sucking in desperate, gasping breaths. His arms give out, and he topples forward onto the dirt. I quickly grab a shoulder, turning him over onto his back and lugging his head into my lap to avoid him choking on his vomit.

My eyes scan the forest wildly as if the solution is hidden beyond the pines.

“Ezamae!” I yell, unsure of what to do. “Eza—”

He appears before I can get his name out again, his features boasting a feral hardness. He stoops beside me and reaches for the tender part of Eoin’s wrist .

“His pulse is weak.” He turns to me. “I had no idea she’d do this.” He shakes his head, distraught. Something akin to pity flits across his face.

“This is her fault?” Fury burns brightly through my veins. “She poisoned us?”

“I believe so.”

“Bring her here—now!”

“She’s gone.” Ez places his hand over his mouth, staring at Eoin with a furrowed brow and sharp frown. “She wasn’t home.”

“Help him,” I hiss at Ezamae. “ Please .” The word slips from my tongue, and I couldn’t care less whether the fae are partial to manners.

Eoin croaks out a noise, blood bubbling out of the corner of his mouth.

" Let him die ," the voice haunting me whispers. " Let him die ."

“Why aren’t you healing?” I yell, ignoring the awful command. I’m not letting him die. I grab his hands and plant them on his stomach. “Heal yourself, Eoin.”

“I—I can’t.” He coughs, and blood dribbles from his lips. “Tell Sennah… tell her I love her.”

His chest vibrates as he sucks in a shaky breath. I squeeze my eyes shut.

This isn’t happening.

He is not about to die because of me.

“You’re gonna be okay,” I murmur. Fearing my words are a lie, I lean forward and draw Eoin to my chest. I hug him to me, rocking gently. “You’re not alone.”

Each breath is sharp, rattling around in his chest, like he's inhaling shards of glass. I glare up at Ezamae.

“Do something!” I demand.

He stares at us expressionlessly, a haunting reminder of how dispassionate fae can be. “Nothing can be done, Alessia. I can’t fix this.”

I clench my teeth together, focusing on Eoin’s body in my arms. His breaths grow shallower and emptier, and his arms go limp. Despite the anger and loathing I often possess for Eoin, he does not deserve to die, not like this. He was trying to make things right—be better. He was desperate to be liked and understood—that should not be a death sentence, despite how awful some of his actions were.

He saved my life.

Again.

And now, it’s costing him his own.

“You’re not allowed to die, Eoin.” I squeeze my eyes shut, demanding the tears not to fall. “We made a deal. You’re helping me get Rainer back.”

Only a wheezing breath replies.

“Orions always pay their debts. If you die, Eoin, you’ll have an unresolved debt.”

I rock him, listening for another breath, waiting for a response. A few minutes go by. I keep his too-hot skin pressed against mine as I cradle him, refusing to let him go.

“Alessia,” Ezamae murmurs. He squats beside me and places a hand on my shoulder.

I whip my eyes open and glare at him. “No.”

“He’s gone.”

“No, he’s not! ”

Ezamae gently pries Eoin from my arms. I refuse to look at him—to add fodder to the nightmares that plague me. My arms and legs shake as I push myself backward, scooting until I hit the trunk of a tree.

I wrap myself into a ball, staring at the blue sky peaking through overhead.

Friends don’t die on sunny days…

Friend.

I should’ve told him he was my friend, that I wasn’t using him like everyone else.

“I’ll take care of him, I’ll be right back,” Ezamae says.

“Wait!” I call out hoarsely, but it’s too late.

I rock back and forth, letting the tears flood my cheeks. Despite everything that happened, Eoin tried to make things right. He started to open up and accept feedback. He truly wanted to be better.

“I promote you to a friend, Eoin,” I whisper to the trees. “You were my friend.”