Page 70 of Fae Devoted
“None at all,” Lady Rose agreed, covering the witch’s white-knuckled fists with her fingers.
“I don’t give two shits about his motives or that he’s a king,” Samuel said, voice deadly soft. “He almost killed my Abby, and for that alone, he will die by tooth and claw—mine.”
Remington promptly nodded. There would be no argument from the ENC king even though they spoke of killing a Fae Touched monarch. Ferwyn law was indisputable: harm a mate and face the brutal consequences.
“You have yet to explain the role of your Ca’anam in all this, Commander Walker.” Lydia rubbed her temple with two fingers as though absorbing the magnitude of Samuel’s declaration had given her a headache.
“Hall,” Samuel said, his focus on the Ferwyn king, “activate a privacy ward.”
“The building is secure,” Anand snarled.
Remington planted his elbow on the table with a thud and raised his left hand. “Take it, Ajay.”
Anand ground his teeth but latched onto the king’s wrist, then the Anwyll commander’s. Ethan took Lydia’s offered hand with his free one, the other now held by the queen. Tucker cupped Lady Rose’s left shoulder, repeating the action with his Alpha’s right. The symbol on Ethan’s sternum emitted a dull glow beneath the fabric of his navy Henley, its hue brightening to blazing white as it escaped through his open collar.
Samuel held out his palm to Remington.
The king took it, completing the circle. “Now explain or get the hell out of my territory.”
“Abby was one of the halfbloods trained at the facility.”
“And?” Remington’s expression remained flat at the Alpha’s announcement.
“She’s a Walker.”
The Ferwyn king cocked his head, clearly confused as to how a mate’s Clan status would make a difference to the Elven Lord.
“Abby is what the Na’fhuil refer to asWalkers. And as far as we know,” Samuel said, his golden-brown eyes sparked with the blazing maize of his wolf, a warning to the ENC representatives there’d be hell to pay if his trust was misplaced, “the only one of her kind.”
“I’ve checked with our curators, Commander Walker,” Lydia said, as puzzled as her king. “They found nothing on Walkers, only Jumpers. If the known ability of their race is capable of manipulating time, I’m almost afraid to ask what your truemate can do.”
“Jumpers don’t technically manipulate time. It just appears that way.”
Ethan’s statement was directed at Lydia, but it was Anand who snapped, “Then what do they do, witch?”
“In simplest terms, they bounce off the edges of the Rip.”
“The Rip?” Remington’s brow furrowed.
“The bridge between our realm and Faery, which is for lack of a better word, bubbled.” Ethan tilted forward, his body language exhibiting his avid fascination with the subject. “Inside this bubble, time is measured differently than on our world. A Jumper can use the Rip’s edges as a kind of springboard, vanishing and reappearing elsewhere instantly, alone or with a passenger.”
“And a Walker?” The king’s gaze leveled on Samuel.
“My Ca’anam can enter the Rip and make small changes to our reality, but it is an agonizing process for her.”
“Agonizing?” Lydia blinked. “All magic produces a level of pain to activate, but—”
“Abigail’s magic is crippling. Using it can knock her unconscious for hours if not days afterward,” Lady Rose interrupted, full mouth twisting in a grimace.
“I understand why halfblood Jumpers are in demand. Their unique skills would be an asset to any region. But if the changes your halfblood can make are as insignificant as you’ve implied, then why does the Sídhe Lord want her? What use is she to him? You’re still not telling me everything.” Remington’s jaw bulged beneath his beard, the pulse at his temple throbbing. “You either trust me, or you don’t, Walker. Choose.”
“I want your vow.” Alpha male to Alpha male.
There was no need to elaborate, everyone in the room understood what Samuel required of the king.
“You have it.”
Samuel nodded, an almost imperceptible dipping of his chin. “My mate can unlock the pathway to Faery.”
