How to Keep a Fae (Coveted Fae #1)

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

August

W e leave on horseback, passing through the portal into Imperium lands. I have never visited this kingdom before, but it is lush and green, and it exhibits a sleepy idealism with warm, friendly human betas who are largely untroubled by the Blighten war happening at the border far to the north of where we are. Omegas are coveted and claimed by many mates. Those alphas not in positions of power are conscripted to the war or protection of the estates. The estates belong to lords. The lords all report to the Imperium king.

Shifters and other nonhumans inhabit the lands on the other side of the Lumen, but a few do occasionally pass through these lands. We are usually presumed to be alpha or some kind of hybrid shifter if they do catch a glimpse of our ears.

No one is troubled by our presence.

My father is not a man of many words. A fact that becomes glaringly obvious the more time we spend together traveling steadily north.

Silence reigns. It is deafening after my most recent experiences since befriending Jayga.

I get used to it. Sometimes, it even comforts me. At other times, it does not.

I follow instructions without question and do not ask him for answers, although the need for them burns inside me.

As we crest the rise today, a distant cluster of buildings comes into view. I pull my horse to a stop. I have never seen a castle, but I instinctively know this one. Beyond a high outer wall, rising above many smaller rooftops, is a collection of turrets and spires in gleaming white. Before the outer wall is sweeping farmland, and to the north, a broad winding river leads to a shimmering expanse of blue.

I have also never seen the sea.

My life and experiences become small as I take in this foreign scene, with its strange pointed architecture and trees that look more like giant green balls sitting upon a stick than the tall pines prevalent around Sanctum.

“The Wittner estate,” my father says. “We will speak to the lord here.”

The lord turns out to be an alpha. My father surprises me when he includes me in the discussion. I’d presumed my role was that of a typical warrior, one of protection despite my father carrying a sword and my long-standing presumption that he was trained in its use.

A servant shows us into a study where the resident lord waits for us. “The king sends his regards,” Bram says. “He asked us to assist you in any way we can. This is my brother, Silas. A former Imperium Guard.”

We shake hands, and my father surprises me again by likewise introducing me .

“My son, Augustine.” There is a distinct note of pride in his voice. I’m confused that he chose to acknowledge our relationship at all.

“Well met.” Bram gives me a nod before directing us to the table, where we take a seat.

The two men are identical twins with subtle differences. Bram is more refined as bespeaks his role as lord.

“I heard you usually travel alone,” Silas says.

His comment adds a further layer of confusion as to why I’m here. My mother mentioned my father was on a diplomatic mission to speak with the Imperium king. Silas’s comment confirms that my father is known in these lands in broader terms.

“I do,” my father says simply, offering nothing. “We lost contact with some of our people tracking a band of Blighten across your land.”

My father’s rapid swing from pleasantries to what I presume is the reason for his visit gives me a sense of whiplash.

“Blighten bastards are too familiar with our lands,” Silas growls. His demeanor comes across as less polished than his brother’s, a little uncivilized, maybe. “They would not be the first people to suffer from crossing paths with their kind.” He nods to my father. “I presume they were important?”

“They were tracking the keystone. When we lost them, we likewise lost contact with the keystone.”

Keystone?

Instinctively, I know this is the keystone—the one we lost long ago. We have others. My father carries one around his neck. He used it to call the portal to bring us into this world, and he will use it to take us back.

But we lost one to the Blighten when a fae expedition stumbled upon their world. The expedition members were killed except for the keystone bearer, who was tortured over a period of many years, seeking the secrets to the portal.

He told them nothing.

Then they gave him back the keystone and released him.

Made insensible by the ordeal, he fled.

They tracked him, and when he opened a portal, they followed him through, slaughtering the unsuspecting fae on the other side.

The Blighten took the keystone, only this time, they knew how to use it to reach our world. They brought armies of orcs. The great city of Sendar fell, we retreated to Sanctum, and the endless war began.

Say what you will about orcs. They are not as stupid.

Ever since, a rotation of imperials has been tasked with tracking the missing keystone. There have been many failed attempts to retrieve it, although none in recent years that I know of. Perhaps this was another failure that cost the lives of our people.

I understand why we try. Our negligence affects not only our lives but the lives of the many innocent worlds the orcs raid at their leisure.

“…they were on the road to Tyden, south of River Eve.”

The keystone was here—close. I feel a strange prickling at the back of my neck. I’m stepping into a thread stretching through space and time, connecting pivotal historical events. The keystone changed everything. It is the reason the Blighten still invaded our world, gathering slaves from villages, burning forests, and establishing bases on our once peaceful lands.

We will never be free of them, never be able to cut them off while the keystone is in their hands.

I knew my father was important.

“ Aurelius was at Sendar,” Cecil said. “How many can say as much? His experiences stretch over many lifetimes. ”

He has been important for a long time.

“… that is as much as I know. I intend to follow them across your lands with your permission.”

“Of course,” Bram says. “I can provide the necessary documentation, and men too if required. As my brother pointed out, the Blighten’s human minions have been sighted too often for comfort, even this far south. Their unlimited access to fresh slaves via the portal has ramped up of late. I can only presume they have recently found a bountiful world and are plundering with greedy abandon.”

The prickling sensation returns tenfold.

Silas rises as Bram talks, opening a drawer on a tall bookcase. He rummages, checking scrolls before returning to the table where he spreads out a map.

“Here is the location you mention.” He stabs a thick finger at the map. “There are two main routes from here, but a landslide cut off the pass into the mountain in spring, leaving only one. The Blighten bastards are all up in our business and would know as much. Even so, they are using the seaport here.” —He slides his finger across the map— “Darkmouth is one of the busiest ports in Imperium. From here, they can sail directly for Bleakness.”

Jayga came from Bleakness. Once known as Port Ardin, it was assimilated by the Blighten long ago.

“Even so, they have a presence in Darkmouth,” Silas continues. “We have close ties to the lord there. It is in everyone’s interest to work together on this. The large, dense population of the sea port makes it easy for the Blighten’s human scum to hide, meet, and plot. It may be the men you seek were going to meet with associates there. They may be taking a ship back to Blighten lands. Either way, my money is on Darkmouth being their destination and your best bet for picking up the trail. ”

“Then that is where we shall go,” my father says.

Bram invites us to stay the night. It is late, and my father accepts.

The two brothers share an omega mate with another younger brother and a shifter hybrid half-brother. I have rarely met mated omegas, and less so ones that are shared, but there is a relaxed air to the family unit. Sharing a mate is common in these lands. Not so in Sanctum. But I like well the way they interact, the natural way the omega finds subtle ways to make tactile and verbal contact with each mate despite her sitting between the twin brothers at the start… and she has a definite soft spot for the youngest shifter hybrid, Nate.

Not long into the dinner, Bram lifts her onto his lap. Silas claims her for his own lap a short time later with a grunt that makes my lips twitch. Somehow, while still on his lap, she reaches across to run her fingertips over the collar of the gruff middle brother, Dax, sitting to Silas’s right.

His ears turn a deep shade of red.

“Fuck it,” Nate mutters, scraping back his chair. He scoops the omega up and strides back with her to his seat on the other side of Bram.

One of his hands remains under the table. The constant glare Bram sends his way, and the flush to her pretty cheeks suggests the youngest brother has said hand under the silk skirts of their little mate.

I pretend not to notice. My father does the same. The meal is barely over when Nate announces, “Belle is tired. I’ll take her back to our room.”

“So nice to meet you,” Belle calls over Nate’s shoulder as he strides for the door with her in his arms .

“Damn whelp,” Silas mutters as the dining room door bangs shut on her sweet giggles.

Dax scrapes back his chair and, with a distracted nod to us, follows after them.

I drain the last of my wine to hide my smirk.

“Would you like an after-dinner drink?” Bram asks. His brother is glaring at the door.

“We have an early start,” my father says, ever the diplomat.

The relief in Bram and Silas is palpable. A servant is called to show us to our rooms.

The interactions between the brothers and their omega during the meal are still fresh in my mind when we ride out at first light to our destination, Darkmouth.

I miss Adaline.

I miss Jayga, too, the annoying bastard.

I miss how it was that one time when we shared and loved the fae of our hearts.

There is still the problem of him being human, but my mind moves restlessly over scenarios and suppositions. If he took imperial blood for an extended time, it would change him. Any fae blood extends human life to an extent. From my understanding, true longevity would only happen between mates. Still, maybe there must be ways… I don’t know everything.

Hope and melancholy go to war in my mind as they have done often of late. I want something unattainable. Wishing changes nothing. I need to learn to live with what we have.

But Gods, it is hard.

One day, when he dies, as is his human fate.

It will destroy Adaline.

Bram’s papers grant us immediate access to the city and a local guide. The short, portly beta, who goes by the unlikely name of Poet, has a sharp nose and restless eyes.

“Keep yer hoods up, an’ yer ears hidden. The Blighten bastards frequent the less savory parts of t’ city. You’ll draw attention havin’ t’ bearing of alphas, but no one’s likely t’ do more ‘an give yer a wide birth. They see those pointed ears, all bets’ll be off.”

We stable our horses at an inn close to the gatehouse and, heeding Poet’s words of caution, keep our hood up and forward as we spend hours traversing the streets, hoping my father can find a trace.

Late afternoon, he senses something. “What’s in that direction?” he asks our guide.

“The port,” Poet replies.

“They took a ship,” my father says. “The signal is weak.”

That evening, we set sail, our horses stowed in the hold.

I’ve never been on a ship before and spend the first two days puking my guts up. But on the third morning, only a hint of the sickness remains, and I find a form of liberation as I stand on the prow and stare out at the seemingly endless sea. Wood and rigging creak as the ship cuts through the waves. Above, the great sails billow in the wind. The sharp scent of the sea fills my nose. The occasional instruction called between the crew barely intrudes.

My father’s task is important.

I feel my insignificance yet again. One man stood on the prow of a ship riding the waves, stepping briefly into the thread of a story reaching back to the battle of Sendar and beyond.

Sometimes, when I’m speaking to my father, I feel the many years and human lifespans he has lived .

At first, his long periods of silence were unsettling, but I’ve gotten used to them, and now I find them comforting.

When this began, I told myself I didn’t want to be here, thinking only of my selfish needs and insecurities. Time offers perspective. This adventure is turning out to be nothing like I expected. And while a lingering sense of something more occasionally troubles me, I have learned to let it go.

On the fifth day, land is sighted.

Hydornia is a land of many kingdoms, barbarian clans, and shifters far to the east. Like the Imperium lands we left, I have never been here before.

The ship’s crew works through an impressive collection of humorous and filthy songs as they prepare to come into port, ranging from tavern wenches and bloody pirates to sweet cockle girls.

“…She fed me a cockle,

Took my hand,

And led me out the back!

Aye, Aye.

Wink, Wink.

Oh, the sweet cockle girl,

I’m in love with the sweet cockle girl…”

Even my father cracks a smile.

“Cockles?” I ask him with a raised brow.

“A form of shellfish.” He pats my shoulder in an unexpectedly affectionate gesture. “The sellers are more often crusty old men than sweet lasses with coy smiles who lust after sailors.”

I burst out laughing, feeling strangely light.

Gulls begin to circle the ship, squawking as they ride the thermals. Ahead, a town nestles in a deep V of two tree-covered hills. The jumble of buildings are mostly in shades of brown, with steeples rising here and there out of the mass.

The ship docks. My father passes a coin bag to the captain with a nod. Our horses are brought out of the hold, surprisingly tolerant of the ordeal.

We gather a small number of provisions and ride straight through the town, coming out onto a rise that offers views of undulating forested hills dotted with villages surrounded by plots put to pasture and crops.

Behind us lies the port town where we docked, and beyond that, the Lumen Sea we crossed.

My father draws the keystone out, wraps his hand around it, and closes his eyes.

He turns to me, draws the chain holding the keystone out, and passes it to me.

I take it with a frown.

“Hold it in your hand. Center yourself upon the stone, then allow your mind to reach out. Imagine the landscape as you see it; imagine you are moving over it in ever-broadening circles.”

I have never held a keystone; it is reserved for imperials who have been trained in its use. Like my younger sister, Sally, soon will be. Still, I do as he asks, closing my eyes and picturing the landscape as best I can.

A tingling sensation creeps upon my periphery. At first I think my mind is playing tricks on me, that this is a manifestation of my nerves in holding such a valuable artifact.

But the longer I hold it, the stronger it becomes. I open my eyes and turn to the southeast, my gaze roaming over the dips and rises.

“Good,” my father says.

Good? What does good mean?

He holds out his hand. I drop the keystone into it, and he slips the chain around his neck, tucking the stone under the collar of his armor.

We ride east, entering a broad forest path wide enough that carts must frequent it .

I want to ask him.

I also don’t want to know.

The unease I have felt on occasion rises tenfold.

It is replaced by a more urgent, prickling sensation at the back of my neck... “Attack!”

Raiders spill onto the path on both sides of us. My horse spins. Trained in battle, it kicks its hind legs, sending a raider flying.

My sword is in my hand—the precise slash opening up another raider’s throat.

More come. I hear the whistle as a bolas flies toward me. I wheel my horse around, but the road is crowded, and I have nowhere to go. The spinning bolas misses me, but tangles my horse's legs.

It goes down with a scream. I jump from the saddle, tumble, and come up on the balls of my feet. My sword whistles down, slicing through the rope. My horse breaks free.

A short, vicious battle follows. There are a dozen of them and only two of us.

They still fall easily.

As I stare down at the bodies littering the forest path, my earlier unease returns with a vengeance. The one before the raiders swarmed the path, the one about the keystone and what I felt—the one that relates to my father and why he brought me here.

I glance at my father, seeing him once more as Aurelius, the ancient male fae with imperial blood known by kings in other worlds whose life journey is entwined with the historically pivotal events of our people.

He killed as many as me, maybe more, moving with the fluidity and grace of a dancer. He could have handled them alone, of that I am certain .

Our horses have a couple of nicks, but thankfully nothing serious.

The raider’s bodies are dragged off the path and burned.

We continue on, putting distance between us before making a quiet camp in the forest.

But the violence has loosened a lid on the resentment inside me. And it will not settle back into place.

He doesn’t need me for protection.

“He visits me regularly,” Cecil had said back in the training hall. “Asking about you. Your progress. He reads every operational report you are involved in. He does not apply this exacting interest to any other warrior under my care. Nor did he deign to visit me even once before you joined my hall.”

He has been following my progress for a long time.

Why do I only now consider that Cecil might have reported my fight with Jayga and the subsequent agreement regarding Adaline?

“Why did you bring me here? You don’t need me for protection. You certainly don’t need me for conversation to break up the monotony of travel, either.”

He does not react to my words beyond setting aside the half-eaten bowl of his food.

My anger flares.

“I believe he has a purpose for you,” Cecil said. “One you will come to understand over time.”

He separated me from Adaline. Left her with Jayga. I have every reason to believe he did so purposefully and with intention.

“What is this? A test?” My chest is heaving. “Of him or me?”

“Of both of you,” he says, meeting my gaze.

I want to hate him. There have been times when I thought I did. His cold indifference has often been hard to reconcile, and now this? I see what he is doing. I tell myself that if Jayga betrays me, he is not the man I hoped him to be, and better I know it now. My mind is already a quagmire as I try to unpick how such a mating between the three of us might work.

But… his words, his calm acknowledgment that this is a test, make me burn.

I don’t know how to live without her; that is the beginning and the end of the circle I take.

Could I be that strong if I were the one left to tend her? Given the opportunity, could I resist the pull to claim her for myself?

With startling clarity, I know that I could. Adaline’s happiness is as essential to me as my own. I could not do to her, even in the heat of passion, anything that might damage her, that might be against her free will.

“I always thought you had more of me, but I can see your mother too.”

He has barely said a word to me in many months of travel. I wish he would shut the fuck up again.“You don’t have to say it like an insult—like her ways are a weakness.”

“Insult? No.” He blinks slowly. “Weakness? Maybe, in some’s eyes.” His brows gather together like my sharp words present a puzzle. “I love your mother. Why would I see anything about the woman I love as a weakness?”

I suck a deep, sharp breath. He is not usually this candid, and I don’t know what to do with this forthright version of him. “If you loved her, why didn’t you claim her?” The words are out before I can censor them. I guess we’re tossing all the burning questions onto the already well-stoked fire.

“Because I am a fool. Because I thought if I claimed first rights to a pretty breeder I was obsessing over, it would end my obsession.” The words rock me. There is no mistaking the bitterness in his tone. “And she was so very sweet and hopeful, looking at me with worship in her eyes. The king saw what was happening and sent me on a mission that took me five years to complete. What is five years to me? It was a blink of an eye and forever, and when I came back, she’d had two more children and was ripe with another on the way.”

A cold sensation is spreading through my chest. I don’t like it. I wish it would stop.

His laugh is devoid of humor.

“I couldn’t keep away from her even though it burned every time I saw her loving gaze turn equally upon children that were not mine. I wanted to hate them and her. But how could I? She is a breeder. Her open, loving nature is what drew me to her as much as her pretty blue eyes.”

I’m still reeling. I doubt this tumbling sensation will stop any time soon. “How did my stepfather come to mate her? Why would the king sanction that?”

“Sanction?” He is not feigning his confusion nor masking his underlying rage. “That upstart is not sanctioned. As if the king would grant permission for a warrior whose life and achievements span mere decades to claim a valuable breeder as a mate? No, he did what every man does when he cannot let a woman go, the only failsafe option, the only one that does not carry risks. He forced her heat.”

The hits don’t stop coming.

Unsanctioned.

Forced Heat.

I shake my head. “Breeders are at the bottom, why would you?—”

“Do not insult your mother.” His expression is a billowing storm. His eyes say he wants to rip me apart. I’m an exemplary warrior, but today showed me I am nothing compared to a centuries-old fae warrior with imperial blood.

I swallow, but I don’t look away .

“Just because their blood is not potent and they have neither the strength nor disposition to wield a sword does not make them any less valuable. They are the caregivers, the mothers; they bring new life into the world. They should be revered.”

I realize he is speaking his own truth of breeders and not that of Sanctum as a collective.

His anger drains. He swipes a hand down his face. His eyes carry the weight of his vast existence.

“She loves you.”

He huffs out a breath. “She loves everyone.”

“She does,” I agree. “But she loves in ways more than that. There have been too many unguarded moments between you when you do not think the other is looking for me to have doubts.”

“How old are you, again?”

I smile. His eyes hold humor now, and I like that I put it there.

“My stepfather is good to her. He loves her. He would?—”

He raises a hand—I stop. “This is not about me and my mistakes. This is about you.”

I suck in a breath, suspecting this was coming, and then distracted by his barrage of revelations. His eyes bore into me. They see things beyond my comprehension. My father is enigmatic. But a tiny window opens, allowing me to peek inside at the inner man.

“The lives of fae, even lowly ones, are measured in centuries,” he says. “You have seen mere decades, and you must trust me when I say that only time prepares you for time.”

A weight settles on my chest. “And what of Jayga,” I say slowly.

“Do you like the warrior well?”

“He’s—” I scratch my jaw. “Jayga is unique. He talks a lot.” I shrug. “He’s annoying as fuck. But he’s also a good man. And he’s good for Adaline.”

“Good enough to tie yourself to for centuries?”

I see now where this talk is going. Jayga is human; he will fade, but the ramifications of his connection as Adaline’s mate will linger. I surmised as much even before I found out warriors can and do force omega heats to claim them.

“I’m a warrior,” I say. “A long life was not something I lingered on often.”

And then I would leave Adaline to suffer, just the same as if she lost Jayga through age.

I swallow down bile. Gods, I have been stumbling around blindly, seeing tiny pieces of a vast picture. I don’t want to hurt Adaline, but I have claimed her heart, careless of the life I lead and the consequences for her.

“I heard you knocked an orc out once,” he says.

My brows raise, and my head swings around. While the relevance of this is lost on me, I know instantly the skirmish he refers to. The incident has gained ever greater embellishment in the warrior hall. You would think no one had ever punched an orc the way they carry on.

“I was wearing metal gauntlets,” I say by way of explanation.

His lips twitch. “Hmm.”

Why is he smiling?

Why is that little noise that leaves his lips the same one I do?

“Hitting an orc hard enough to achieve that should have broken every finger in your hand. That you had the tenacity to try speaks of much.”

“Maybe he was already falling,” I say, feeling uncomfortable and unsure why. My thoughts skitter about, bouncing between all the revelations of the past few moments and landing upon none.

“He was not already falling. Not according to the report. According to all the reports I have read—that the king has likewise read—you are one of the best warriors born in many centuries.” Pride shines in his eyes and carries in his voice.

My thoughts are still bouncing and refuse to land.

“The king tested you when you were still a babe.”

The sound of my beating heart is loud in my ears.

“Not all imperials are female. I am a testament to that. And males do not mature in the way the females do.”

I’m the son of a breeder. More often, that is how I see myself, pushing aside my imperial father’s side. Imperial? Is that what he thinks I am? “I’m a warrior.”

“You are undoubtedly more.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means the chance of you dying in battle is infinitesimally small.” A brief smile touches his lips. “Protect your neck well. If someone removes your head, not much can be done about that... It means one day, the king will call upon you to do more than you do now. It means you are yet young and should choose wisely how you mate. Adaline is fae like you. But a feeder. Her life would be shorter. But when the two are put together, the passage of time will change for both.”

“If I mate her?”

“If you mate her, she would eventually take your imperial blood, and your life spans would entwine until there was no difference between the two.”

I didn’t know female fae, omegas, took their mate’s blood. The thought of her biting me, at my throat… at my groin. The erotic fantasy is abruptly thrust aside by my father’s next words.

“Likewise, the human alpha you bind to you. Is he worthy? Is he someone you could endure eternity with? Do you trust him? Believe what you will of your stepfather and his purity. He knew feelings lingered between your mother and me and claimed her anyway.”

Fuck, he’s saying Jayga will likewise take my blood. Whether directly from me or indirectly through Adaline doesn’t really matter. He will share our lifespan.

I look inside myself and then outward into the broad, sweeping unknown and the future I have yet to live.

Can I know how my life will play out or the dangers I might meet?

Of course, I cannot.

All I have is a gut feeling. Instinct. But instincts can be colored. They can also be confused.

I’m an imperial. My blood will change Adaline, and from what my father is saying, it will change Jayga, too.

I do not have the luxury of waiting, for waiting also comes with risks, and losing Adaline is not acceptable, no matter what angle I view this from.

How well do I know Jayga? How certain can I be?

Life is a risk. Aurelius sees my mother in me; he also sees himself. I am neither one nor the other of my birth parents, but a blend of them and of everything else that has happened to me independently of them during my life.

When I try to consider a future that does not involve Jayga, the path grows murky.

When I imagine one with the three of us, I see open pathways and possibilities.

My earlier thoughts play back in my mind. Adaline’s happiness is entwined with my own, like our future lives. But we are not two trees growing together in isolation. We are three, surrounded by the loving and sometimes imperfect support of many more .

“Yes,” I say, pleased my voice has no waver. “Yes, I trust him. No, he will not betray me while I am gone, nor will she.”.

He nods. “Good.”

It seems so clear so suddenly.

Why did it take so long?

He surprises me by rising and begins packing the camp.

I frown. “What are you doing?”

“Packing,” he says. “It is time we went home.”

I laugh, it has a sharp, disbelieving quality, but I get my ass up and pack too.

When we are done and the horses are laden with everything, he opens a portal right there in the middle of a giant tree.

“All this for a conversation that could have happened in the span of an hour while still in Sanctum?”

The portal flickers, beckoning to me. Why am I talking when I could step through and see my heart’s desire?

My father meets my gaze. He shrugs. Then he smiles. “We have been conversing since we left Sanctum. Today is merely the culmination that we chose to do through words. Besides, I was, in fact, searching for the missing keystone. Now that I have found it, another imperial can assume the bothersome job of keeping track of it.”

As we ride through the portal into the stone chamber of Sanctum, I see my father in a new light. He is no longer an enigma, cold and indifferent. He is imperfect and carries scars.

I suspect it will take many human lifetimes to unravel this complex man.

I intend to do so with a sweet fae feeder and a human warrior at my side.