Page 50 of Ruthless Fae King

Mom groaned on the floor across the room, and she pushed herself up. She pressed her hand against her head, her face twisted in pain.

“Mom, oh, thank the Goddess you’re okay! I-I don’t know if Zita is alive.”

Mom blinked at me, orienting herself before she crawled across the floor to me.

“Oh, no, no,” she muttered and cradled Zita’s head in her lap. “My darling, no.” She hesitated before she touched Zita’s throat, her face crumpling at the sight of the bruises, before she pressed her fingers carefully against her skin.

“She’s alive,” she breathed.

I let out the breath I’d been holding. As long as she was alive, she could be healed.

Mom put one hand on Zita’s chest, one on her head, and closed her eyes. I felt the magic pulse around us, tapping into the light that came from Terra. I watched as my mom used the same power she used to save the Conjurites to draw Zita back to the world of the living, away from the darkness Erol had dunked her into.

Zita’s eyes fluttered open. Her body stiffened, and she tried to get up.

“No, don’t move,” Mom said in a gentle voice. “The danger is gone, let me complete the healing.”

Zita’s eyes were wide, still filled with panic and rage. She was in fight mode and wanted to deal with the threat. But Erol had fled, leaving the destruction behind.

My heart ached just thinking about what he’d done.

When Zita finally sat up, her face had color again, her cheeks rosy, and the bruises around her neck were almost gone.

Mom threw her arms around her neck. “I thought I lost you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Zita said, wrapping her arms around my mom and holding onto her tightly.

I became aware of the Conjurite group, still in the room, watching us with large, fear-filled eyes.

“It’s okay,” I said, standing. They had to be guided through this, they had been rattled to their core just as we had. “I’m so sorry this happened. The journey through the dark magic isn’t always an easy one.”

The Conjurites exchanged glances.

“If you’re ready to leave, we’ll understand,” I said.

It was six people we might lose, people who might never want to turn to the light. We had to deal with that loss and move forward. We’d known from the start there would be roadblocks.

“We don’t want to go,” one of them said.

“What?”

“We don’t want the dark power anymore. We’re tired of the darkness being in charge. We don’t want to lose control, to hurt people when it isn’t our choice. If we can go through the process, even if it means our death, we’d rather stay.”

I looked over my shoulder at my mom. She locked eyes with me, as surprised as I was, and nodded.

We would try to help them—we would do what we could.

After I made sure Zita was okay, and Mom was still strong enough to do something after she’d healed her, we took our positions. I tried to push Erol and what he’d done out of my mind. I couldn’t think about that now. Zita was alive, my mom hadn’t been too badly hurt, and we had lives to save.

* * *

Three days passedwithout any sign of Erol. No one knew where he was, or when he would be back. Only the guards had seen him leave.

I worried about him. After the initial shock had worn off and I’d processed what had happened, I’d realized none of it had been him. Erol hadn’t tried to stop the process on purpose. His power had taken over, Cyrene had used him to stop us from saving the Conjurites.

“I have to find him,” I told my mom and Zita at the breakfast table that morning. “I can’t just let him think he’s a monster. It’s not right.”

“Heisa monster,” Zita replied before taking a large bite of golden toast.

---