Page 155 of The Forbidden Fae King

I am so sick of being vulnerable and powerless. In the fae world, I was the master of my own fate. A force to be reckoned with. I was treated with the same respect as the men.

Opening that portal tonight was hard, but I did it without straining my power. Maybe I can open another, and find my way back to Aldrin.

Leaving him was the biggest mistake I have ever made.

I must fall asleep at some point, because I wake suddenly, my chambers still doused in darkness except for a few fire orbs hovering in the corners of the ceiling.

Caitlin is asleep on a recliner, a thin blanket tossed over her, my silent sentinel. She must have found out about my return after I fell asleep and decided she would be right here for me if I woke up crying in the middle of the night.

Guilt ripples through me as I get out of bed and tiptoe around her, throwing on a woolen riding dress and cloak. I don’t wake her, not even as I soundlessly close my bedroom door.

My blood races as I tiptoe through empty corridors and out into the cool night air.

I slip into the shadows of an alcove as a patrol of two guards pass by on the wall above me, then I make my way through the maze of alleys and narrow passageways that connect the main courtyards, dipping in and out of the servant’s quarters.

I reach the narrow servant’s gate at the back of the wall that leads to a herb garden and unlock it easily by shifting the air within the mechanism.

When the guards pass their rotation on the wall, I dart out across the exposed space and into the tree cover beyond.

Thoughts crash through my head as I run between the orchards. Blood pumps so loudly in my ears it is deafening. I cannot think straight. Pure panic floods me. Raw need.

I claw my fingers down my face and across my temples until myfeet take me to the Old Fae Garden. Mud flicks up from my boots, across the hem of my dress, leaving cold splatters on my shins.

I need to open the portal to Aldrin before the congregation of priestesses arrive at my home and I am locked within their clutches forever. I have to at least try, no matter how terrible the idea is. How unlikely.

Thorns tear at my skin and snag my clothes as I force a way through the ancient garden. It is almost pitch black, with the moon already beneath the horizon.

I stumble over thick roots snaking across the gravel path and glance up to the cascading branches of the weeping willow right before my face. They are a dark outline against the night, but a breeze kicks up and the dull gleam of moonstone is visible through the parting branches.

The feel of the hanging leaves against my outstretched arm guides me around the tree, to the portal.

To both portals.

I skid to a stop before them. One has the words “Royal Palace” engraved in the stone. The other, “Fae Interchange”.

My heart leaps.

It leads to the hundreds of portals where I made my crossing into the Spring Court. It had been an interchange for trade and migration between the realms when we were at peace with the fae.

I grip onto the moonstone portal, but it takes time to focus enough to summon my magic. The stone pulls the fire of my power from me, and this time I don’t hold back, flooding it quickly.

Blinding light erupts from the portal, painful in its intensity. Mists swirl within, and I don’t hesitate a moment. I run beneath that arch and through the landscape of clouds within, until I am staggering on uneven ground on the other side.

I am at the site of the pilgrims’ crossing. The portal behind me is a beacon illuminating the ground of moss and slate, near the stone circle of towering rough-hewn arches.

That foreboding tower slices through the dimness in their center,the jade plinth dull and powerless. I draw in the magic reserve from the portal at my back, closing it.

My eyes fly to the rows upon rows of portals leading to the fae world, cut into the steep hillside. I walk toward them as though each step is propelled forward by a sharp current.

A shiver runs down my spine as I stand before the moonstone gateway that took me straight to Aldrin so many months ago. It is as though fate itself brought us together. The very depths of my soul pull me toward it. Aldrin might still be at the Frozen River Fortress.

I would wander his realm for years in the hope of finding him.

I fall on my knees, not caring that the dampness of the moss seeps into my dress or for the sharp edges of stone that dig into my legs. My breaths are short and labored as anxiety ripples through me like fire. I reach out and put my hands on the portal.

I open all of me to the portal, pushing out huge jets of magic until my hands, then arms are illuminated by the flow of it. I pour my very essence into it.

My legs go numb beneath me.

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