Warrior Fae Princess (Warrior Fae 2)

“My magic is keeping her on the precipice, but she needs help from your people,” Devon said, not sure if he was ordering or begging.

The elf opened its mouth, and suddenly it jerked backward, swiping at its face. It screeched, now slapping, as though a swarm of flesh-eating flies had attacked it.

“I told you to back off,” Penny said in a low, rough voice.

“I don’t understand.” The man finally leaned in. “Has she not gone through the change?” He put a hand over her forehead.

“Do you not listen when your betters speak, Hallen?” the woman with the braid said, stepping forward to peer down on Charity. “Halvor warned us of this. Where is—”

“I’m here,” someone said from behind the handful of fae.

The woman with the braid cleared to the side for an older woman to push in, jostling Hallen as she did so. She was out of breath, as though she’d been running behind them, unable to keep up.

“This is a healer,” the woman with the braid told Devon. “She will know—”

The healer sucked in a sharp breath when she saw Charity’s eyes. “She is in the change. Don’t you feel it? She’s at the crux of it. How old is she?” Her blue-violet eyes were strange, although they were a natural color, not like Charity’s.

“Twenty,” Devon answered.

“She’s late. No one turns that late,” Hallen said to the healer.

The healer let out an exasperated breath. “You’re nothing but a boy. What do you know?”

“The Arcana turn at that age,” someone whispered from the back of the group.

“Precisely.” The healer motioned for Devon to follow her. “Hurry! Get a fire lit. This young woman is leaning into her grave.”

“But this is impossible,” Hallen said, hurrying to walk beside the healer. Clearly he was the leader of this scouting party. “We would have been told if the one we seek is connected with the Arcana.”

“Arrogance and youth, a damned annoying combination,” the healer muttered. She raised her voice, taking over. “Grayson, make up some draught. Ensure it’s potent. And chase those nosey elves out of here. I don’t need them looking over my shoulder, trying to steal the show for their finicky masters. And you can tell them I said that.

“Boy, give that girl to Hallen.” The healer gestured at Devon. “Your magic has certainly helped her, but our magic will cure her. At this late stage, it will start with skin contact. Hallen, take her. Drop her and I’ll drop you.”

Devon hesitated, possessiveness freezing his limbs. He remembered what Karen had said, though, that he’d need to do what was best for Charity.

He released his hold, his heart breaking as he gave her up. Was this the point at which he should turn back? Was this the point at which he should say goodbye?

Could he?

“Devon, your pack needs your attention,” Penny said quietly, her hand on his arm. “I’ve done all I can.”

“Do not, under any circumstances, let the elves take her,” Devon said to the woman with the braid, who was lagging behind the others.

Her eyes slowly slid down his nude body. A smile pulled at her lips. “I have the same orders. We are reading from the same scroll, Alpha.” If a tone could capitalize a word, she just had. “Now, see to your pack. We will take care of the girl until you join us at the fire. I am Kairi. If you have any trouble, see me.”

“Fae, a word?” The elf Penny had attacked gave her a wide berth before hurrying to the woman’s side.

Devon could barely suppress a sigh as he watched them walk away. He had given Charity over to her people, but he didn’t have to leave just yet. They’d invited him to the fire, and it would be rude to ignore such an invitation. He wouldn’t have to leave.

The rest of his pack sat in a circle, their heads down and their expressions drawn. Devon’s feet turned to lead as he neared them, seeing the limp form of Dillon at the center of their gathering. His ribs had been crushed, that was evident, but Devon had seen shifters come back from worse. If Dillon shifted, then…

“How is he?” Devon threaded between his people and knelt by his beta. Macy cried softly, her arms wrapped around herself, her face buried in her knees.

“How is he?” Devon asked again, louder, panic giving his voice edge. Dillon was the first friend Devon had made as a shifter. The guy who had stood by his side as he rose through the ranks. Others had been jealous or eager to challenge Devon, but Dillon had always guarded his back.

“He died on impact,” Emery said softly, his eyes downcast. “His heart has stopped. He’s gone, bro. I’m sorry.”

Devon stared down at his friend. At his confidant. His second. A great hole opened up in his chest.