Warrior Fae Princess (Warrior Fae 2)

Kairi offered him a sad smile when he let himself out.

“Don’t you get a break?” Devon asked her, willing his feet to move. Willing himself to follow through with this…with leaving her.

“Not tonight,” Kairi said softly, looking out over the quiet path. “You know, I could have stopped Charity from fighting you on the battlefield last week. I was there in time to intervene, and duty said I should’ve. Instead, I watched. Fascinated.”

“That right?”

She nodded, scanning the path like she was ready for an attack. “I’ve watched how your pack has handled being treated lesser. Like something that should be banished but propriety dictates that it can’t.”

“From the sidelines, huh?”

“Yes.” If she was embarrassed by that fact, she gave no sign. “I’ve watched how the Third handles all the attention. It makes her uncomfortable. She must have been a loner in the past, while your pack is used to being respected. It is a role reversal, this journey, is it not?”

He smirked. “You could say that.”

“Yet she rose to the occasion, and so did you.”

He frowned, fighting the desire to go back in and say goodbye to Charity one last time. “How did we rise to the occasion? We’ve been like ghosts.”

“Yes. Against your nature, you accepted your position here. I’ve seen you battle, in real settings, not just practice. There is a ferocity in you that calls to me. It begs me to join you. When Charity fought, it took everything in my power to keep myself from running to her side. Yet, day to day, when you were so badly disrespected, you held your peace. You grieve for your lost, but you hold your heads high. It must’ve taken a great deal of self-restraint.”

“We aren’t animals; we merely turn into them.” The words carried a little of the bite he’d held back.

“You are fierce warriors that can display self-restraint for someone you value highly. It was noticed. It has lent Miss Charity, the Third Arcana, more status, if that were possible. As has your prowess on the battlefield. You have helped her more than I think you realize.”

“That was our duty.”

She laughed softly. “Exactly. You have shown us what it means to follow one’s duty for the greater good.”

He shook his head, confused as to what she was getting at.

It was no longer his problem.

“We’re leaving. Take care of her.” He stepped away before stopping, pain ripping him apart. “She won’t take this well. Please, comfort her. Tell her I didn’t leave because of her, it was…” He didn’t know if he was allowed to tell Kairi about what the Seer had told him. So he just said, “It was Fate.”

Before he could take it back, Kairi said, “Fate. What a bullshit meddler, eh? Always screwing things up.”

Some emotion he couldn’t place rang in her tone. A spark lit her eyes. Again, he wasn’t sure what she was getting at. It struck him that this confusion was something Charity experienced all the time around the fae. Around his pack, too.

“Help her,” he said, starting away.

“That is my duty, and I will perform it as you would,” she called after him.

The others waited for him outside the cabins, all but Steve in shifter form. The two mages waited off to the side, and the Red Prophet stood with them, dressed in a bright pink robe.

“We’re out,” he said, making a circle in the air with his pointer finger.

“They’re not going.” Steve tilted his head at the mages.

Devon didn’t really care, so he nodded.

“But she is,” Penny said, tilting her elbow to indicate the Red Prophet.

Devon hesitated. “Why?”

“Without me, your blood will make the elves a lovely new print of wallpaper,” she said with a grin. “I know the way and, more importantly, when to take which path. In return, you will feed me. I can handle the fire; you just need to make the kill.”

“We’ll be in animal form most of the time,” Devon said, ducking into the cabins to make sure nothing important would be left behind. A small square of white stood out on the table. A folded letter of some kind.

Devon left it and backed out. Someone wanted to say goodbye to Charity, and since they couldn’t do it in person, they’d written a note. Hopefully, whoever it was had said something about Dillon—shared his memory in some way.

Guilt ate through Devon’s middle. He shouldn’t be doing it like this. This felt sneaky and dirty. But maybe if he was a dick, it would be easier for her to let him go.

“This is the right way,” the Red Prophet said when Devon rejoined them.

“That’s going to get old,” Steve murmured.

“I didn’t tell anyone I was going, either. Boy, will that piss off Her Highness.” The Red Prophet laughed, an insane cackle. “Her perfect little world is about to be cracked wide open. She knew this day would come. I was there when she had her quest. I wrote it all down. She’s worked to fortify her walls, but puppies will eat through anything.”