Page 36 of Defy the Fae

“We all want the same thing, just by different means,” Juniper campaigns.

“And that’s where the argument ends,” Scorpio fumes, his throat inflamed and voice raw. “This is our fight, not yours. We will never side with humans. They’re weak, they weren’t ordained with magic, and they abuse their fauna. They have no respect for their natural world, which is why they defend themselves like savages by attacking ours. The only advantages your ilk have are iron and lies; one of those, you used to dismantle our realm, the other to steal our rulers. We’ll save our world without you, and then we’ll deal with your race later.”

Cove has said very little until now. But when she gazes at him, her eyes reflect some type of awareness.

In a soft tone, she asks, “Who broke you?”

Scorpio’s murky head snaps toward her. For the first time, confusion stumbles across his countenance, followed by astonishment. His eyes waver on her, as though struggling to escape from a snare.

At length, he tears himself away. The male’s temper radiates off him in waves as he vacates his seat, intending to level himself with the sisters.

Chair legs scratch the floor. Elixir, Puck, and I wrench from our own seats—and our fingers jolt toward our weapons—before the Fae straightens fully.

But instead of reaching for the trident beside him, Scorpio grips the back of his chair and snarls at my brothers and me. “Reject your mortals, send them back to their world, and rejoin our original efforts to restore the land.”

“You’ll forgive us if we tell you to go fuck yourself,” Puck answers.

Scorpio tilts his head at The Parliament, then us. “Then you’ll forgive me if I keep doing what I’m doing. The raven was one of many candidates. For the greater good, perhaps I’ll be forced to try for something closer to home next time. The Pit of Vipers, for instance.”

Elixir’s baritone cuts across the room. “The fauna are sacred.”

The merman’s pupils flare at him. “Then stop me.”

My father seethes with his avian kin, their thoughts mirroring mine.

This is why Scorpio’s here.This is why he accepted the invitation.

Since he couldn’t assassinate us with the raven, he’s trying to use the attack as an incentive: rejoin their side or things will get messier. If we pursue our own path, he’ll target more fauna.

Dying of natural causes doesn’t harm the lifecycle. Whatever method he used to enhance the raven must have been organic, otherwise it would have endangered this land just as The Trapping had with its human iron.

Scorpio swipes the trident, attaches it to his back, and stalks from the table—then changes his mind once he’s at the exit. Pausing on the threshold, he pats the jamb in thought, then swerves to face us.

Or rather, he fixates on Elixir. “You know, when you blinded me, I was upset—enraged, even. But during that spell, something interesting happened. My senses changed, became more acute than they already were. It gave me an idea of what it must be like to be you, and that gave me rather tangible understanding of how to decipher what’s inside a brew—what it contains, merely from its scent and the sounds it makes when everything’s stirred together.

“By the time I got my eyesight back, those senses dwindled, but I haven’t forgotten what they taught me. And that got me to thinking about a particular ingredient, one you possessed before the flood washed it away. And that got me to thinking about all the ways that ingredient could be used. I guess you could say that blinding me led to inspiration.” He ducks his head in mock subservience. “Thank you for that.”

Before leaving, he finally pays Tímien a single, fleeting glance. Then he bows like a hypocrite to the rest of The Parliament and quits the room.

My eyebrows knit. I send a message through the wind, asking the vultures to confirm whether he’s left the mountain.

Their reply comes swiftly.He has evanesced.

My shoulders unwind. The wind shield drops, the film evaporating.

Knowing Scorpio’s truly gone means I won’t be forced to launch after him, make sure he doesn’t seek out additional mountain animals to exploit. Yet while he’d threatened as much in front of The Parliament, he had also genuflected before leaving. That means Scorpio really thinks he’s being pressured to take this action, that we’re forcing his hand.

Which also means he doesn’t have limits.

Avians flit through the hawthorn branches. Light from the celestials pours through the glass dome. At first, no one speaks.

Then from his end of the table, Elixir grunts. “I know how he did it.” My brother’s eyes fizzle like liquid. “The Evermore Blossom.”

The Parliament shuffles, Tímien narrows his lone eye, and Puck groans.

My mate and her sisters frown in puzzlement—especially Juniper, who’s clearly aggravated she’s never heard of this flower.

I release a gust of breath, round my seat, and clench the back. “The Evermore Blossom is a singular flower, only one of its kind in existence, and potent enough to amplify the natural instincts of any creature. That’s what Scorpio had meant about ‘enhancing’ the raven. It wasn’t hunting or defending its territory, but it was demonstrating feral dominance. A mere snippet from the petal had been enough to stoke that impulse. To say nothing of what the entire flower could do to a legion of fauna.”

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