Page 55 of Dark Fate

Rhyland's blue eyes have turned into frosted daggers of resolve aimed straight at Faderyn. Every sinew in his body is pulled tight, his aura practically humming with fatal wrath. "Who the hell is this?" he growls, his voice rolling deep like thunder on the horizon.

Cutting off Rhyland's looming threat with a dash of diplomatic haste, I jump in with the niceties. "Rhyland, meet Faderyn," I interject, wedging myself front and center. "He's on our side— a friend—he's the one who came to my rescue—"

"A friend?" Rhyland curled his lip into a sneer. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"What?" I blink at him, taken aback.

"Don't fuckin' play dumb, Dani," Rhyland growls. "I can smell that bastard's lust for you all over him."

My jaw drops, and disbelief splashes across my face. "What…? You can actually smell his lust for me? No, Rhyland, hold up—you're way off base here!"

"Then enlighten me," he challenges, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

I snap back at Rhyland, my ire catching fire, "The nerve of you—throwing accusations at Faderyn without knowing what went down!"

"Do I?" His eyes spear Faderyn, the uncomfortable outsider to our duo.

Faderyn's lips stay sealed, and his choice is silenced, but those emerald eyes talk to me, gentle and quiet against the raging storm; that's all Rhyland right now.

"Cool your jets," I exhale sharply, pivoting to Faderyn. "Faderyn's been the good guy here, a friend and then some. He was there for me when it was a party of one." Whirling to Rhyland, my words pour out in a torrent, "I can't fathom what's got your fangs in a twist… but let's get one thing straight—there's been zero funny business between us!"

My face is on fire, probably glowing brighter than the flickering fae campfires as I dig in my heels. Rhyland's got that look in his eyes, a fury burning so fierce it could give the wildest fae spells a run for their money, his body wound up tight, a coiled spring of barely leashed rage. It's like squaring off with a thunderstorm just itching to let loose.

I manage to keep my eyes dutifully in their sockets. Rhyland's prehistoric jealousy routine is definitely getting a rain check for a serious chat.

"That's enough." Axilya's tone is stern. "I would appreciate you keeping your hostility regarding my people to a minimum." Axiliya's threat is met with Rhyland conceding.

For the moment, the storm's been dodged. Taking a step back, I give both men the 'let's get down to business' face.

"Alright, with that mess untangled, let's turn our attention to the actual bad guys, shall we?"

The room falls silent as Axilya lays out her plan, her pale green eyes calculating.

I turn to Axilya, confusion furrowing my brow. "Wait—you still want us to meet with Amara when we have Rhyland?" IshootAxilyaa determined look. "Instead of walking straight into Amara's den, why don't we return toWhispervale?Rhyland's free; meeting Amara now paints a target on us."

"She knows we've escaped. Dani is right." Rhyland confirms.

Axilyahesitates, her tactical mind turning the thought over. "Amara won't take lightly to being stood up, but... yes," she reluctantly concedes. "It may be more prudent to consolidate our position away from her gaze. I will devise an excuse—perhaps the carriage breaking— for our lack of attendance." Axilya paces the floor. "Very well, back toWhispervale," she decrees, albeit slightly reluctant.

Rhyland's voice is thick with fervor, a rough edge to his eager words. "Damn straight. We need to put as much distance between us and that bitch as possible. We need to double down on Dani's quest for that fucking stone. It's time to take the reins and drive this prophecy forward."

"Indeed, expedience would be prudent in addressing this matter—the earlier, the more favorable," Axilya concurs.

I swivel to Rhyland, laying it on him straight from Axilya's intel briefing—that Amara's packing some serious dark mojo, hogging the magic like it's her personal deck of aces, and how the Sun Court's got this exclusive magic shield that's keeping her wicked vibes at bay.

"I know all about that hag's twisted dark magic. Looks like compulsion shit to me—but that crap doesn't fly with us vamps." Rhyland sits down in a nearby chair. "She's dabbling in some serious shadow fuckery too—almost on Azrael's level."

"Compulsion?" inquires Axilya, aghast. The color visibly fades from her face. "She possesses the capacity to dictate others' actions at her mere whim?"

"From the dirt I've picked up, yeah—but it's a bitch to lock down. Like I said, that crap's got no play on us." I reach Rhyland's side and run my fingers through his hair. "Looks like she's got everyone dancing to her tune, whether they're willing or not, that's the damn question."

"What of Alinar?" Axilya quickly asks. I quickly take note of her look and glassy eyes.

"He was there, cozying up and sucking up to that repulsive hag," Rhyland confirms.

Axilya drifts off toward the tent's rear, and I can feel it in my bones—she's not just upset; she's carrying a world of hurt. I move to tail her, maybe offering an ear, but Faderyn's putting up a stop sign. "We should rest up for the night. We have a long journey home tomorrow."

IfilledRhylandin on the whole saga that unfolded during our time apart — his face was a cocktail of worry and inquisitiveness while I spilled the beans on my aquatic brush with the reaper and Faderyn's timely heroics.

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