Page 85 of Fae Champion

It was all I could think about.

I’d never be safe in Embermere—hell, maybe not in the whole mirror world, even in the remote Wilds—not so long as the queen ruled. Whatever her reasons for hating me so, for wanting to see me dead, I couldn’t assume they’d pass, that I’d somehow keep surviving.

One of these days, I wouldn’t.

She’d continue her wicked reign, and my life—and death—would have made no difference.

Rush’s eyes were glassy, spooked as a wild horse who’d glimpsed the inside of a cage. He kept scanning my face, my body, seemingly reassuring himself that, though he’d sliced my throat, he hadn’t seriously wounded me. The queen had taken control of him, but he hadn’t followed through with her kill order.

Only, I knew he would have if Azariah hadn’t interrupted—and then paid the price for his intervention, and steeply.

His features arranged into a brooding tempest, Rush sauntered over to the dagger he’d discarded when he’d shaken off the queen’s will, and retrieved it, sliding it back into its sheath with the kind of speed that suggested he still worried she might again steal his will, that despite his insistence that he meant to defend me, he might end up attacking.

His eyes, those mesmerizing eyes that always drew me to them, were muted. They churned, dense clouds concealing the light of the moon behind them.

When he returned, he came to my side and stood as close as lovers would. Without thinking, I stepped beyond his reach, and those eyes churned more, those beautiful lips curving downward in bitter disappointment.

“El,” he started, a faint whisper. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, definitely didn’t want to. I never … I never want to hurt you. It’s…” He ran a hand across his hair, frowning. “It wasn’t me.”

“I know.” And I did. But that didn’t change how a part of me felt betrayed.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I brushed the still falling fluffy confetti from my hands. The glow of my flesh was fainter now, nearly gone.

“What’s happening to me?” I asked, not meeting his waiting stare. My skin was soft, dewy, golden, as if it were drenched in a thick coating of the brightest honey.

Rush took half a step toward me, retreated when I flinched, then, “I don’t know exactly, El. Your power’s awakening, I’m sure that’s a big part of it. But … whatever it is, it’s amazing. Beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

I wanted nothing more than to turn toward him to gaze into his eyes, ignoring the fact that the unisus was still recovering at our feet, that the arena was packed with fae of all kinds, observing our every move, and that the queen was about to insist on celebratory festivities I was in no mood for. But I looked away instead, skirting curious stares until I landed on the streaming wall of rainbow—safe.

“I need to get out of here,” I mumbled to myself, not to him. Had he and I ever been a team? If we had, it had only been for a heartbeat, and we certainly weren’t anymore. Even if he wanted to be trustworthy, he couldn’t be, not so long as the queen held his leash.

“You can’t go yet,” he said from behind me, soft, regretful. “She won’t let us. The winners will be part of her afterparty. The dancers will start when the music does, and the orchestra looks like it’s almost ready.”

“Hmmm,” was all I said. The heat of my body hadsettled into a simmer, still present, but possible to ignore. The tangle of my emotions, however, pressed against my chest as if my heart weren’t large enough to contain them all.

I so very much wanted to trust Rush … but couldn’t.

I wanted to spend an entire week locked up in my chambers, wrapped up in him, letting him distract me from all the wrong. But I’d be stupid to do it, to give him more of myself than I already had.

How many times did he have to tell me not to trust him for me to get it?

In the end, it didn’t matter whether or not his heart wanted to defend me. The queen’s reach was a stranglehold. She wouldn’t stop until she destroyed everything that might grow to mean anything to me.

She wouldn’t be satisfied until she destroyed me.

“What are you doing?” Rush asked me as I wove my way through the handful of circling attendants. I ignored him and crouched next to Azariah. I owed no explanations to my enemy—or my enemy’s favorite agent.

“Azariah,” I said gently.

The unisus lay on his side, one of his lovely translucent wings flattened beneath his considerable bulk, and when he opened his eyes they were groggy, tired. Wisps of mist drifted around him, emphasizing how magical he was despite his exhaustion.

I smiled at him. “How are you feeling?”

He cleared his throat, a field of dry reedscrackling in a sharp gust of wind. “Like I almost kissed my immortality goodbye and died for good,” he croaked.

Darkly, I chortled. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

I scanned him, the way his chest still rose and fell exaggeratedly, as if his every breath were as big as he could make it just to prove to himself he could. “You think you’ll be okay now?”

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