Page 50 of Wanted: A Roommate Who Isn't Evil

“The division leaders answer to me. And Idid not make that bargain,” Reval stated. “I would have honoured it, however, if you had not aided in my son’s betrayal. But you housed him, fed him, andtook careof him…”

Reval paused, his words falling off into a gale. He sniffed the air. Shadows began searching the skies, but even with his acute sense of smell, Dranian was too agonized to try and pick up the scents in the wind.

“It was more like the other way around, actually.” A sweet, sugary voice came from the back of the Army. Fairies looked around and parted, making a wide path right to the back.

There stood Luc.

“Oh dear. Did you really think that three-legged mutt was taking care of me? You fools.” Luc’s dandelion-speckled coat flapped in the wind. His hood was up, but his gaze was still visible—not sharp or deadly as it usually was. He didn’t cast Reval a look, either. He studied how Dranian was on his knees, his arms twisted back, Army fairsabers poised above his shoulders ready to strike again.

Shadow Fairies whispered as Reval Zelsor slowly drew a pair of black fairsabers and began moving toward the new fox in the crowd.

Luc finally tore his gaze off Dranian and settled it on the Dark Prince coming his way.

“This is beneath you, Father. A group beating? You should challenge your foes one on one, or else you look like a coward.” Luc drew his own fairsabers, and a few Army fairies gasped.

Reval came to halt. His jaw slid to the side as he contemplated. Finally, he told his warriors, “Grab him, and hold him still.”

Luc raised a fairsaber toward the first fairy that stepped in his direction. “I’m here now. So let the broken North Fairy be on his way before you awaken the wrath of his brothers.”

A terrifying smile spread across Reval’s mouth. He wandered back to where Dranian was. “I think I’ll keep him and finish what I was doing,” he decided. Dranian’s arms were yanked forward, and a metal bloodlock was clasped over his wrists. Reval sliced his palm open and slapped his hand onto the lock, enchanting the metal to obey only his blood.

Luc remained where he was, but his jaw tightened a little. He looked off and closed his eyes, seemingly in disbelief.

“However,” Reval’s cold voice flittered back to Luc, “if you want to stop me, perhaps you should stand in my way.”

Reval raised the blade of his fairsaber over Dranian’s neck, and Dranian felt his fight drain away, his mind closing, his hands beginning to tremble in the metal binds. He was scarcely aware when Reval’s blade came down.

But the ringing of clashing metal filled his ears, startling him back to the present where the hem of Luc’s black coat brushed Dranian’s fingers. Luc glanced back over his shoulder at Dranian, annoyance strewn over his face. But there was another expression there—worry. Just an etch. “Breathe in and out, you fool. How could you already forget?” His words were quiet, just loud enough for Dranian’s fairy ears.

Dranian sucked in a lungful and released a shuddering breath. He pulled another in, let another out. He blinked, the hazy surroundings sharpening to something he could understand.

There Luc stood, in the middle of the Shadow Army. In front of him.

“You were right about me.” Luc turned back to his father. “I planned to betray you once I was of age.”

Reval’s face turned cold. Shadows backed away a little, giving them both space. It was as though the wind had changed directions.

But Luc went on in a tantalizing whisper, “We’re less than a year away from our appointment on the mountain, aren’t we?” he asked. And then, “Fight me, Father,” he said. “Let’s see who’s the more cunning fox.”

The Dark Prince reached into his pocket and pulled out a glistening red gem. He studied it. “I have a better idea. How about some sport?” He rolled the gem over his fingers.

“Stop deflecting. It makes me think you’re afraid of me,” Luc stated, rotating his left fairsaber and stretching his wrists. He crouched into a defensive stance.

“What do the humans call it here again? Agoalie?” Reval asked the fairies by him. The Prince’s gaze flickered up with a mark of anticipation. “I’ll try to kill the North Fairy while he sits there. Block me, if you can. He takes the punishment for whatever you can’t stop.”

Luc seemed too annoyed to respond now. His fist tightenedsubtly around his weapon. He looked like he was about to reply, but someone else spoke faster:

“How about a trade first?” A new voice—deep and filled with memories—lifted over the park, and Dranian’s thoughts came to a halt. He assumed it was a delusion of his panic spell, but when he looked through a crack in the Shadow Army’s formation, he knew he wasn’t imagining it.

Mor.

The fairy’s jean jacket eclipsed a loose white shirt flapping in the wind, and his curly hair was pulled back into a bun. Mor looked from Shadow Fairy to Shadow Fairy, then back to Dranian.

Dranian wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry in relief or scream at his friend to not come any closer.

21

Mor Trisencor and the Fishy Smell

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