Page 17 of Blooms of Darkness

Chapter 4

The sounds of my father coughing chased me farther away as I moved throughout the castle, toward the escape the open air promised.

I needed a moment to breathe. A space to clear my head after everything from the last twelve hours.

Exiting out of one of the side garden doors, I immediately ran into Ian. And by ran into, I mean, slammed into him. I bounced off his chest and gasped, as he chuckled at my clumsiness, gently grabbing my arms to steady me.

“Just the person I hoped to find. It’s time.” The sparkle in his eyes meant this morning would be hard.

It had become a regular occurrence for Ian to coerce me into going on those damned awful runs with him. Not only had he focused on my strength, but he insisted I needed to be able to run far without fail if something were to ever happen to him.

The first time he had taken me on a run, I retched my breakfast in the center of the city market. We’d only made it half a mile. Now, nearly a year later, I could run miles and miles without needing to empty the contents of my stomach.

“I’ll give you fifteen minutes to change and meet me at the front entrance.” Ian’s grin, normally contagious, wreaked of threats.

I pursed my lips. “I’ll have to run to my room and to the front to make it.”

“I know. Fourteen minutes.”

My legs seemed to obey before my head, and I shouted back at him as I ran toward my room, “I hate you as a trainer.”

“Thirteen.”

I shouted in frustration but didn’t stop. His ruthless methods were to thank for who I had become, and while I hated the pain of training, I loved him for it.

I stripped myself of the confines of the leathers Kalliah had dressed me in earlier, opting for the tight, all-black training gear I loved so much. I couldn’t help but admire the way it clung to some of the muscles I’d developed. I buttoned the top, pausing once at the jagged scar along my ribs. It had been tingling lately, aching like a reminder I couldn’t be rid of. I didn’t have time to despise the mark right now. I was up against the clock.

I ran out of my door with one shoe on as I hopped into the other, jumping the last few steps of the marble staircase and sprinting toward the front entrance of the castle.

Ian bounced back and forth on his feet when I made it back to him. “A minute to spare,” I said, punctuating my declaration with a little victory dance.

He hummed his approval.

Rolling my neck, and quickly stretching my arms, I nodded, ready to begin. We started off slow, jogging around to the front of the palace, and down the long carriageway, leading to the main road, running toward the heart of the city.

The palace took up the entire back half of the city, surrounded by floral hedges, which looked like anything but the gate they were. The gardens behind the palace were open toeveryone year-round, allowing Fae from all over Brookmere to come and explore the beauty Ellevail had been graced with by nature.

Many believed the soil at the palace also held magic. The most luscious and abundant crops were grown here, then shared with as much of Brookmere as we could feed.

Ian increased our pace slightly just like he always did every few minutes.

The first buildings scattered near the palace belonged to the wealthier members of society. Their perfectly trimmed gardens drew in the eyes and appreciation of most, but none rivaled the palace’s.

The charm on the outside masked many more vile things within. Vile might be a stretch, but the actions of some of the wealthier Fae were usually ugly, despite the exquisiteness they surrounded themselves with.

Never trust something is as it appears at first glance.

I’d never forget the first lesson my father taught me after being old enough to bow hunt with him. We stumbled upon a razorven drinking from a stream. The white, four-legged beast’s eyes were closed as it drank deeply with its long, slit tongue. It looked peaceful.

My father held a finger to his lips, silencing me before slowly stepping back, retreating with me. The beast turned its head, opening red orbs for eyes as thick black hairs rose along the spine of its back, and I screamed. My father used his magic to create a wall of vines, completely blocking the creature from us as we ran.

I never would have guessed its hairs were poisoned and flexible, capable of slicing and paralyzing its victims in moments, before devouring them.

The animal haunted my dreams for a week before my father finally convinced me razorvens were rare outside of the southernforests, the hunting grounds that all manner of nightmarish beasts called home. The southern forests were avoided by nearly all Fae of Brookmere. I let myself breathe again, safe knowing there was plenty of distance between me and more razorven.

Never trust something is as it appears at first glance.

And damn if the sentiment didn’t ring true for Fae as well.

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