Page 30 of Of Wind and Terror

This is the longest I’ve been patient in my life. I was a good boy, a good elf, but no more.

I need to see her.

Magic thrums through my veins and settles in my fingertips, and I grab on to the strands with a ragged exhale. Then I shoot the magic at the door keeping me contained. It flies off its hinges and careens against the wall opposite with an audible clanging sound.

The two fae tasked with guarding me jump up in alarm, but before they can unsheathe their swords, I flick my fingers, and they fall to the ground unconscious.

Fuckers didn’t even put up a fight.

What a shame.

I’m feeling awfully stabby today.

I move to stand…only to immediately fall back on my ass as my right leg buckles. Tiny pinpricks race up and down the length of it, and I stare at my limb in dismay.

It seems as if my magic decided it’d be appropriate to take away feeling in my leg for a short period of time.

No matter.

I like a challenge, and vanquishing an entire village of fae while hopping on one foot sounds like a great one.

Using the wall for support, I wobble my way out of the dank cell, down a hallway, and then out the front door. The morning sun bears down on me, instantly heating my skin, and I close my eyes and take a deep inhale.

Now, where is my pretty little cherub hiding?

Come out, come out, wherever you are.

Something akin to fear momentarily eclipses my usual jubilant mood.

I need to get Kassandra to the elven castle if she has any hope of surviving the Mark of Chaos.

Gaia, I never should’ve allowed myself to be taken. We would’ve been halfway there if I’d fought back against the fae and then kidnapped Kassandra like I originally intended to.

Yet you want her to trust you, a sly voice whispers in my head.

Shut it, I retort.

And maybe my internal voice does have a point. Maybe a part of me does want Kassandra to trust me.

Yet I’ll willingly sever any and all trust between the two of us if it means keeping her alive and safe.

As I wobble my way across the pebbled pathway, my gaze lands on a discarded weapon that seems to have slid beneath a wagon. I bend down—nearly toppling face-first into a pile of manure—before grabbing hold of the gleaming sword.

Perfect.

I give an experimental swipe, relishing the swish of air, and smile. It’s been way too long since I last held something pointy. Almost an entire week.

Feels like an eternity.

Humming under my breath, I move in the direction I know Kassandra to be.

After all, the little cherub is my fated mate.

Mine.

Elves may not have the same religion as the fae, but we do believe in the existence of mates, gifted to us by the gods and goddesses themselves. The legend says that every elf is born with only half of their soul—the part that is either brimming with chaos or order. It’s only when we find our complement half do we feel complete.

And for me, that’s Kassandra.

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