Page 25 of Dark Fate

No act here; she's the real deal. I straighten up, her talk of premonitions snagging my interest. "Does the queen know about your... talents?" I prod.

Meadow shakes her head. "She thinks me a rebellious servant. My visions are a secret I guard closely."

If Meadow's been using her visions under the radar, that's gutsy. It tells me she's got skin in the game. And if the queen's clueless, we have a secret weapon.

My usual wariness cools—breaking out isn't just a personal vendetta anymore; it's critical to the cause.

Meadow's proving herself an ally worth having. "Those visions might be the game-changer we didn't know we needed," I tell her. I lean down, my stare drilling into hers. "Okay, Mouse. We'll do this your way. But let's get one thing straight—it better work. I'm done playing prisoner in this twisted fairy tale."

Her grin flashes bright as she nods confidently. "My oath to you. Come nightfall, you'll be free."

She throws a quick curtsy, then disappears, probably off to prep for tonight. If this goes south, we'll both be in a world of hurt, but I'm ready to bet it all on this play.

Lucian murmurs with dry humor, "Can I get an amen? It's about time we vacate this dumpster fire."

I continue pacing, feeling restless. "Assuming Meadow's plan isn't a trap by the queen," I mutter darkly.

With a sneer, Lucian retorts, "Shocker, Mr. Sunshine is all clouds today. What'd you do, pawn your sense of adventure? I don't see anyone else willing to help us out of this fae pornucopia."

Despite myself, a smile quirks up. "I shall leave the boldness to your reckless ass. I prefer keeping my head firmly attached."

Lucian scoffs, "Oh, that's rich, brother. The gratitude is just overwhelming here. Let's not forget who's pulled your ass out of the fire a time or two."

His jab hits a nerve, triggering a flashback—Lucian, charging into that bunker, facing off with the Shadow Brotherhood to drag Erik and me out. He didn't bat an eye at the danger. A flicker of thanks warms me, but I crush it. Lucian's ego doesn't need more fuel. We're bound by blood, but we knock heads just as often as we have each other's backs—his wiseass mouth never fails to light my fuse.

I let out a snort, covering up the churn inside. "Sure, sure. Just remember, if this goes sideways, we're up to our necks in it together."

The image of Dani flickers in my head, and I reach for her—through our connection. But I hit a wall—nothing. A string of curses flies from my lips. It's been days since I felt her pulse in my veins, and it's screwing with my head. This connection—it's like a fuse burning down, and with each moment we're separated, I'm edging closer to losing it.

My control is fraying, and my temper flares like wildfire. I need Dani's calming touch. I'm teetering on the edge; if I drop, it'll be straight into fury and chaos.

She's got to be feeling this too, right? Is she out there, fighting her own demons? What if this distance is gnawing away at what keeps us grounded?

"Get your shit together, Rhy," Lucian snarls from the other room. "You're losing it, and I don't know shit about this mate crap. But if what they say is true, buckle up, or I'll kick your ass to next Tuesday."

This isolation's eating at me, but I can't let it twist my head. I can’t drown in rage and panic—not if I plan to hold Dani again. I've got to play smart, keep my cool. It’s wits over brawn.

And when I do reach her—when we're finally side by side—come hell or high water, no force in this world or the next will have the balls to split us up again.

Danica

11

We walk through the busy encampment as morning routines commence around us. Faderyn pauses at a stall where a young woman sells freshly baked goods that make my stomach rumble loudly. My mouth starts watering at the yeasty, sugary aroma wafting from her pastries and loaves of bread.

After having nothing but wine since last night and then enduring the blood infusion this morning, my appetite is at an all-time high. My stomach gave an audible grumble, making Faderyn look at me in amusement.

Faderyn paid the vendor and handed me a still-warm bun topped with cinnamon and drizzled honey. "Eat up; you'll need your strength today," he encourages.

I devour the sweet roll eagerly, unable to hold back a blissful moan. The dough practically melts on my tongue, and the honey fills my senses with sweetness.

Erik watches my unabashed enjoyment with a wry smirk. Faderyn selects a fruit-studded pastry for himself and continues leading us onwards.

As I lick the last traces of honey from my fingers, I ask hopefully, "Any word yet from Axilya?"

Faderyn shakes his head, taking a thoughtful bite of his breakfast. "Have patience. She will uphold her word, I'm certain of it. But royal communications take time."

I sigh but nod acceptance. He's right—fretting will take time to process. Still, impatience nags at me.

---