Page 26 of Changed

There was a massive, tingling wash of magic around me, and suddenly the auras of my court members were gone. I was alone with the elder of the wild fae enclave.

"What have you done?" I asked, lifting my chin and keeping my shoulders back, projecting as much confidence and cool superiority as I could muster—the way I had been trained to do growing up as a priestess of The Order of the Triple Moon. And the way I knew Robin would, if she were still here. "Where are the others?"

The fae elder chuckled, the sound like dry leaves rustling across the sidewalk in fall. "Your companions are fine, my girl. They are waiting for you in the main hall. I simply thought you and I should talk one last time without your domineering mates thinking they need to protect you."

I tilted my head curiously. I might not like being moved about like a doll or a chess piece, the way the fae seemed set on doing, but I didn't actually get the feeling that this man had ill intentions. His presence felt… old. And powerful. Strange to my senses, unlike the other paranormals I was used to interacting with. But I didn't sense the same kind of petulant malevolence I had felt around O'Dell and the syndicate fae. There was anger there, though, I thought. And maybe a touch of bitter glee. I wished Cicely were here with me, so he could tell me what kinds of emotions he was sensing from this being before me.

"What is it you wish to talk about?" I asked, doing my best to keep my voice even. "This is about our bargain, isn't it? What would you ask of me for letting us shelter here all this time?"

I wasn't a fool. I knew bargaining with the fae could be dangerous. But we really didn't have much choice. Yukio had been suffering from magical exhaustion. And I would have frozen to death out there in the wintery woods. Besides, I was just a blind orphan witch. What grand nefarious scheme could this ancient creature possibly want me for? I doubted it was my healing powers. The wild fae were hardy folk. And I had no doubt that they had a magical healer or two among them, as varied and powerful as they were.

"That is precisely it," the elder said, his voice moving closer. "Sit. Have some tea. I know you are anxious to be gone from here, but I will keep this transaction quick."

I let myself be guided into a chair and accepted the warm cup of tea that was pressed into my hands. Normally, I would be mindful of all the tales I had heard as a child, the ones that said you should never accept food or drink from the fae. But I had already been here for weeks—or, days? I supposed it depended on who was counting. Regardless, I'd had to eat to survive. One last cup of tea was hardly going to matter. I sipped the warm herbal blend and directed my gaze toward the shifting light and shadow where I thought the elder was standing.

"I'm afraid I don't have much to offer to repay you for your hospitality," I said honestly. "I can heal someone for you. But that's about the extent of my talents."

He chuckled again, that dry, half-amused, half-wry sound that made it seem as though he could see things you couldn't and found it all annoying and vaguely amusing at the same time. "Impressive though your magical talents are," he said, confirming my thoughts, "we have healers aplenty, and no real need for your touch, Ruya."

I nodded and took another drink of my tea. "If it's my banshee abilities you're after, I'm afraid you'll be sadly disappointed. I don't actually have any control over them or ability to manifest them on purpose."

The sound of a chair being pulled out told me he was taking the seat opposite mine. "Again, we've fae enough with the talent for seeing death, child. And a few like myself who can see more besides. We've no need for death criers here."

I waited. I was impatient to be back with Robin and the others. To know what had happened in the pocket world. To go home, after what felt like forever spent here in this strange place. But I knew the elder wouldn't be rushed. He certainly hadn't responded well to Robin's show of impatience.

After a moment, he spoke again. "You are certainly more patient than your alpha," he commented, as if reading my thoughts.

I shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know about that. Robin might seem impulsive at times, but there are some areas where she has demonstrated the patience of an immortal saint."

I certainly wouldn't have had the patience to devote as many decades as she had to finding my feet, building my resources, and getting my revenge. But yes, she did tend to just… snap sometimes. And it was moments like that when I reminded myself that not only did she have the spirit of a fire-breathing alpha dragon inside her, she was also, according to the others, barely approaching her dragon version of adulthood. Though she was nearly seventy years old, she was essentially a teenager in dragon years. It was an amusing thought, and my lips curled upward without conscious thought. Calling Robin a child was bound to go over well, I was sure.

"Well, you may smile," the elder said, a note of humor in his voice. "That one has great potential. And she has chosen a strong destiny. But I think she will need to be reminded of her finer qualities at times. The dragon heir is the perfect soul for the mission she and this court of yours have set themselves upon. But she will not rule alone." He huffed. "Alphas always think they are the ones in charge. But those who are lucky enough to have an omega in their midst soon find out they are merely second in command."

I chuckled at that. I wanted to tell him he was wrong. That Robin absolutely was in charge of her court. But then… I had never felt particularly like obeying her, at least outside of the bedroom. While the others seemed to more naturally defer to her, and while I did feel that instinctive urge to please her… I was also more than willing to stand up to her nonsense when needed. So, perhaps there was something to the fae's words.

"The role your alpha and your court will play in the fate of the paranormal world are significant," he told me, his voice taking on a different quality, sort of distant and a bit monotone as it fell into a whispering cadence. "But it is you, Ruya, who will seal our fate."

He moved. I heard fabric shifting and his chair scraping back against the stone floor. Then his hands took mine as the ancient wild fae crouched down before my seat. His aura reached for mine and images filled my mind as his magic surrounded me. It was similar to when Cicely showed me visions in my dreams. And yet, very, very different. This vision lacked the vibrant colors and warmth of Cicely's world. And forms and details were indistinct, almost as if the dreamer couldn't quite decide what they were seeing.

The shadowy form of a man falling to his knees. And above him a tall, shadowy woman with wildly waving hair raised her arm. The faces were indistinct and shadowed. The details devoid of color or sharpness. And yet… I could still make out the long, wicked-looking knife in the woman's hand. I could feel the terror, and the fury, taste the coming death on the air as she plunged her arm downward in a vicious stride, stabbing the man in the chest.

Death swirled around me, the fragments of a life of power, corruption, greed, and the lingering threads of a once-pure intention. A name swelled in my chest, spilled from my lips. But it wasn't a name I recognized.

The fae elder withdrew his touch and his strange wild magic as the wail faded. When he spoke, the direction of his voice told me he was standing once more. And his tone was here in the present. "Seeing is not an exact art," he told me evenly. "Visions are often indistinct. Changeable. But this is one of the more solid ones. More certain. Though other details may vary, your role is the same every time the vision comes."

His hand dropped to my shoulder, and he squeezed lightly. "You are someone who prefers mercy," he observed. "You would sway those around you from violence or meanness of spirit whenever possible. But know this, child. There is a time for mercy. And there is a time for ruthlessness." He sighed. "I want your rebel court to succeed. I want my people to have more than the life of unwanted outcasts shoved to the outskirts of society, scorned by humans and other paranormals alike. If you want this coup of yours to succeed, witch, it will be your hand that deals the killing blow."

I sucked in air, still trying to regain my equilibrium after the strange fae vision combined with the banshee death wail. This couldn't be real. I was trying to get Robin to soften. To spare as many innocents in this feud with the emperor as she could. And yet… this strange creature with his fae premonitions was telling me that I would be the one killing people?

"I don't understand," I said. Even though I understood just fine. I simply refused to accept it.

"This is your end of the bargain," he said, his voice going cool and firm. A demand now, rather than a gentle nudge or a sad conveying of information. This was a fae cashing in on a debt. "I have upheld my agreement to shelter and keep you and your pixie mate safe these past weeks. And in return, you will carry out your end of the bargain." I shook my head, but he kept talking. "If you fail to uphold your end of the deal, I will call breach, and your life and that of your pixie will be forfeit."

I stood, accidentally knocking over my teacup and probably the pot as well, judging by the sound. It soaked my clothes. Tea pattered onto the stone floor, the sound overly loud in the silent room. "I'm a healer!" I protested. "I save lives. I don't end them!"

But the fae had no patience for my objections. "When the opportunity presents itself—and it will, little omega—you will kill the worm who calls himself emperor. And you will put a new leader in his place. Your actions will have a ripple effect. You will free the paranormal world with this one relatively small act of rebellion in this one territory. You will do your part. Or I will come for you and those you hold dear."

I snapped my mouth shut. What could I say? I had walked myself right into a fae bargain and never thought to demand my own terms. I had left it completely open-ended. And I was afraid any attempt I might make to fix things would only make them worse.

---