Page 7 of The Fae King's Labyrinth

“You enjoy using that word, don’t you?” I reached out and rested my fingertips against the back of her hand. A sharp zing of magic brought with it the sensation of chilled skin. “You are cold.”

I reached for the elven spell, fumbling my first attempt as usual.

“I have survived worse.” She watched my efforts with amused interest. “Why is that spell so hard for you?”

I muttered something unpleasant under my breath as the spell’s folds slipped from my fingers for the second time. “Because it is of elven creation, not fae.” Pausing, I attempted to calm myself. Rushing meant errors.

“There is a difference?”

“Indeed.” I opened my eyes and smoothly reached for the spell again. This time, my fingertips caught the edge of the folded space.

“Fae, sir?”

Ignoring her, I reached into the spell and thought of what I needed: the heavy woolen cloak I wore when riding.

“I think you need to see this.” She tugged on my sleeve.

“Just a moment.” A breath later, my fingertips brushed the soft velvet of the inner hood. Catching it, I dragged the cloak forth, letting the spell close behind it. Only then did I realize that something was rumbling behind us and growing closer.

“The walls are moving.” Horror tinged her voice as she stared back the way we had come. “We have to choose, or we will be crushed.”

“Do you trust me?” I asked.

She regarded me wide-eyed. “Yes?”

“Hold tight.”

Bundling her into the cloak, I tugged the oversized hood down over her face. I didn’t want her to see my magic at work. I swept her off her feet, darted left, and ran.

No turning appeared. The passage closed off behind us faster than I could run.

Tapping into the little reserve I still possessed, I added magic to speed my strides. The burst of speed hit suddenly, almost making me stumble. I caught my balance and threw the two of us through an opening in the wall to the right. Curling around my companion at the last moment, I cushioned her fall.

Three

Calypso

We hit something hard and rolled. Clutched as I was to his chest, I was jostled but unharmed when we came to a halt on our sides. The fae’s grip on me loosened as the rumbling abruptly ceased.

I scrambled out of the fae’s arms, shedding his cloak as I stood. Solid brick walls hemmed us in on three sides, but thankfully, none of them moved.

“We are safe,” I declared.

“For now.” He groaned, and I spun around in time to see him climbing awkwardly to his feet.

He straightened as though movement hurt. For a moment he appeared normal, but then his face contorted into a mask of pain. Magic intensified in the air, making my skin tingle as though a summer storm threatened. A yellow glow surrounded him like stardust, and the ghostly image of a crown flared bright gold among his mussed hair. His head snapped back; the sinews of his neck stood out in sharp relief as he grimaced at the blackness above us. His body vibrated so violently that it appeared there were two of him before me.

Then as abruptly as magic had begun, it ended.

The fae crumpled to his knees and fell forward. If he hadn’t caught himself at the very last moment, he would’ve landed on his face in the dirt. Then, he lay frighteningly still.

“Sir.” I rushed to his side but hesitated to touch him.

So much magic had just ripped through him I suspected he ached. Newly transformed shapeshifters consistently complained about sensitivity to touch after their first few transformations. Those of us who tended young but had not transformed ourselves had been ordered to never touch the kit afterward, at least not until the child allowed it.

“Are you alive?” I asked, hovering just next to his shoulder. He lay face-first on the ground with his hands tucked under him. I saw nothing of his features. Did his eyes move? “Sir?” My heart thundered in my chest. What if he was dead? I would be alone. I glanced fearfully at the floating flame. It didn’t even flicker.

“Azulin.” He rolled onto his side with a guttural moan. Pain etched across his handsome features. “You may call me Azulin. And yes, I live.”

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