Page 4 of Forgiving a Fae Warrior

Galen sucked in a deep breath, savoring the lively scent of the flowers, the trees, and the richness of the soil. This is where he belonged. His home—the rightness of it wrapped him in its warmth, a balm to anxiety still spiking under his skin.

Wren struggled anew in his grip.

“Be still, Wren,” Galen said. “I won’t hurt you.” But she might well hurt herself if she kept up. It was useless anyway. Her strength of will might be second to none, but human strength paled in comparison to that of the fae—and he was no average fae at that.

She snorted and jerked even harder, demanding his focus.

“You.” A female voice cut through the night and caused his heart to skip a heart.

Wren stilled. Gooseflesh rose on Galen’s arms. It couldn’t be, but he’d know that voice anywhere.

“Sylvie.” Galen turned unerringly toward her voice, spotting her at the edge of the tree line. He bit his lip, drawing blood, but there she still stood, the woman of his dreams and the last he expected to see.

But her features lacked all the joy and carefree ease he remembered from their years together. Her face was stoic and cold, giving nothing away—a pure warrior ready for battle. She even dressed like it, her sword free of its sheath and gripped at her side, as if she’d just happened to be on patrol nearby at the very moment he crossed through the barrier.

Fate could be so twisted.

He yearned for her more than all the others, but his betrayal would have cut her deep. Would she listen?

Galen released Wren and took a half step in front of her as Slyvie’s attention slid to the human woman at his side.

“What are you doing here?” Sylvie demanded when she glanced back at him.

“I’m free of my oaths to Air. I come to pledge myself to the Forest—to you.” His voice cracked over the last part, all the bittersweet emotion he tried to hold back leaking through.

“Who is she?” Sylvie looked past Galen at Wren, who’d yet to utter a word and merely looked around in confusion. “I feel…” Sylvie trailed off.

He knew exactly what she felt. Weeks ago, he could never have expected it either, but so much had changed in so little time. “She bears Sigurd’s mark,” Galen replied.

Sylvie swore. “One consort to repent for the other?”

Exactly.Galen nodded. “She wishes to return to the human realm.”

But Sylvie’s expression only soured. Galen’s heart clenched, but before he could speak, Sylvie snapped, “Provoking Sigurd will not help the Forest. You bring war to us. You—” Her mouth gaped open. Whatever words she planned to speak were lost.

A prickle of apprehension slid over Galen’s skin a moment before he saw a flash of movement from the corner of his eye.

“Fools.”

Galen whirled, wide-eyed. His stomach hollowed out. “Katiya.”

The Unseelie woman had grabbed Wren in his moment of distraction. She held the frightened human tight against her, a hand over her mouth and sharp claws extended to graze Wren’s cheek.

“How?” Sylvie echoed the thought racing through his mind.

The slight tremor of Wren’s limbs and her wide-eyed stare were a nightmare come to life. The Unseelie’s smirk had the hairs of his arm standing on end. He had not seen Katiya or heard her. Slipping through the barrier should have taken time. Someone should have felt it and noticed. But there she was, where she had not been moments ago. The impossibility of it screamed through his mind. How could she have even found them there?

Sigurd he expected, and soon, but this?

Katiya’s clawed fingers drummed on Wren’s cheek. “Thank you for the Air king’s mate.”

Galen lunged toward them with all the speed he could muster, but a second before he reached them, Katiya vanished, taking Wren with her.

Galen collapsed to his knees, letting out a deep bellow into the quiet night. Dread curdled in his stomach as he stared her down the spot where they had just been. All of his plans turned to ash in a moment. Worse, Wren was in danger, and for what? He’d said she’d be safe. He’d…lied, a thing no fae could willingly do. Blood rushed in his ears. His breaths came short and quick. When he glanced up, Sylvie was nearly upon him, sword still at the ready.

End it.

If he were to die, best it be at her hands. But Sylvie slid to a halt a few feet away.

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