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Char’s head and heart were a mess.
Hurt by Iris’ rejection, worried something was wrong, angry at himself for not being able to get the truth out of her—and then he couldn’t even find Jonah to demand answers. He’d ended up flying home in defeat, and even now, exhausted though his body was from two long back-to-back flights, his mind wouldn’t stop churning through it all, over and over again.
What had he missed?
A hot bath and a good night’s sleep. That was what he needed. Then in the morning, maybe he could make sense of it all.
But when he stormed into their cave, his green eyes dark as a thundercloud, every muscle of his body taught, there was Rath. Waiting for him.
And Char didn’t want to talk.
“What’s up?”
Char didn’t answer. He walked past his brother without a glance. When he heard footsteps following him, he spun on his heel, his green eyes flashing a warning. “Leave me alone.”
Rath met his eyes and held them in a steady gaze. “What happened with Iris?”
Char flinched and turned away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Char—”
He felt Rath’s hand on his shoulder and grabbed it, shoving his brother off hard enough to make him stumble and almost lose his footing. “I said, leave me alone!”
Rath caught himself at the last second. He righted himself and set his jaw. “Not when you’re like this. Tell me what happened.”
Char groaned in exasperation and headed into the bathroom. Rath followed him, leaning against the open doorway as Char started the bathwater.
“Char.”
“She told me not to come back.”
Rath’s eyes widened. “Why?”
“She doesn’t want me around anymore.”
“And that didn’t strike you as odd?”
“She flinched whenever I tried to touch her, like there was something wrong with me.”
“So, something’s happened to her.”
“What happened is that she’s made up her mind to hate me.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“If you had been there—” Char’s voice broke. He clenched his jaw, determined not to cry. Iris wasn’t worth it. Not after that.
“You said something felt wrong last time. What if she’s trying to push you away to protect you from something?” Rath pressed him. “What if she’s in trouble and she needs your help?”
“Get out.”
Rath sighed. “Fine. If you won’t even fight for her, I guess she deserves better than you, anyway.”
Char stared down at the water filling the stone bathtub, watching the steam rising from the surface. His gut told him Rath was right, but what was he supposed to do when she wouldn’t tell him what was going on?
And what if there was nothing going on?
What if he was hoping for a reason, but she really had told him the truth?
He didn’t know what to think anymore.
She’d been happy to see him the first time he came to visit her. He knew that much. But she’d flinched away from his initial touch with some flimsy excuse about his hand being cold. Then she’d tried to explain away her tense, twitchy behavior by saying she’d been thinking about Father John before he arrived, and then there was something about her magic lessons being more grueling than she expected.
He hadn’t bought any of it for a second.
But she’d warmed up to him again fast enough. He knew she’d enjoyed kissing him and talking to him, and he'd never sensed she distrusted him.
He couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t tell him.
Jonah had been worried, too. He’d told Char he’d noticed the change in her, but she wouldn’t talk to him about it, either. He thought learning to use magic might have made her feel conflicted. Most of her limited magical experience had been bad, and she cared so much about others. He wondered if she felt like she had no choice, and yet the thought of hurting someone scared her.
That had sounded right.
But Char had still left with a gnawing in the pit of his stomach that told him he should have stayed.
She had seemed scared. Scared of Jonah. Which made no sense at all.
And now this.
I thought I loved you.
He heard her words echoing in his head. He saw the shock on her face when he told her he loved her. He felt her stiffening in his arms when he kissed her.
She’d shoved him away. Burst into tears as if his kiss burned her. As if she couldn’t stand being around him.
He didn’t know what to think.
“What the—”
Rath’s shout from the other room made Char look up as dozens of little golden lights zoomed into the bathroom. Fairies swarmed him, grabbing his shirt and dragging him along with surprising strength.
“Hey! Stop it!”
They didn’t listen. Rath stared wide-eyed as they pulled Char into the living room.
“Hold on!” Char grabbed the doorway and braced himself against it. The fairies tugged harder, lifting his feet off the floor. “What is this about?”
The fairies released him and hovered in front of him, radiating impatience and frustration.
“What are fairies doing here?” Rath asked.
Realization dawned, and that sickening feeling in Char’s gut came back, stronger than ever. “Why aren’t you with Iris?”
The fairies all quivered as one, and then they grabbed him again, urging him toward the door. Char didn’t fight them this time, but he still had to trot to keep up with them.
“I’m coming with you,” Rath said.
“No,” Char called back over his shoulder. “Cover for me with Kelnor.”
The fairies stopped at the door to the flight cavern, leaving Char to go on ahead. He forced the ice through his veins and transformed, racing for the exit and launching into the air, his heart pounding in his ears.
Rath was right. He shouldn’t have left her alone.
The skies were cloudy but calm. Char pushed his aching wings, flying as fast as possible in the dead air with no headwinds to force him back, no tailwinds to help him along. The sun set, leaving the sky devoid of lights, moon and stars hidden by clouds.
He was making good time. At this rate, he would be there by midnight. He hoped that was soon enough.
It had to be soon enough. He couldn’t go any faster, and he couldn’t keep up this pace much longer.
When he landed on the clearing of dead brown grass beside the tower, everything looked fine from the outside. Her drapes were drawn, and there were no lights visible in any of the windows.
A single fairy alighted from his back and darted toward the door.
He didn’t even question its presence. He just sprinted after it, ice tearing through his veins again as he returned to his human form mid-run. Through the door, up the spiral stairs, taking them two at a time to her room—
Her door was wide open.
He skidded to a stop.
She lay on the bed, pale as death and drenched in sweat. The dress he’d seen her in earlier clung to her as if she'd been caught in a heavy downpour, almost unrecognizable from all the tears and blood stains marring the fabric. Blood dripped from her right hand, dangling limp over the edge of the bed.
And sitting at her side was the king’s mage. Touching her. Stroking her hair.
His frigid blue eyes turned toward Char. He smirked. “Well, isn’t this convenient?”
The momentary shock that had frozen Char in his steps vanished. “What have you done to her?” he roared, but an orb of red magic surrounded him before he’d taken a single step toward the mage. He pounded on it and yanked his hand back, burned by the contact.
“I told you what I would do to her.” The mage shifted and changed before Char’s eyes, shrinking in height a few inches, stretching across the shoulders, facial structure rearranging itself, and then a familiar pair of warm, pale blue eyes was looking at Char beneath a head of disheveled platinum blonde hair.
Char sucked in his breath.
“When you entrusted her to the care of Jonah.” The false Jonah chuckled, and then he shifted and changed again, and the mage was back, smirking at Char.
Anger surged through Char’s veins, but he could only clench his fists at his sides, unable to move without touching the red orb. He was fighting the urge to transform. There were enough horror stories of dragons getting cut in half while trying to escape magical containers to keep him from making an attempt. Iris needed him in one piece.
But it was torture watching that man sit there, combing his fingers through her hair as if she belonged to him.
“She’s been a good girl until today. Sweet little Iris, doing as I said to keep you and her precious fairies safe.” The mage looked down at her again and sighed, moving his hand to caress her cheek. “Her recent insolence was disappointing, but I suppose it was inevitable. She’s always had the annoying tendency to fight back.”
“Get your hands off of her!”
The mage cast Char a smug smirk. “She’s mine now, Char. And so are you. In fact, your timing is perfect. I have already begun her punishment, but the rest has to wait until she regains consciousness in the morning. You’ll get to watch. There is a point after magic extraction when she can be roused, but she cannot move without intense pain. I’ll summon the fairies and kill them one by one in front of her, and then…”
Eyes as cold and uncaring as a winter storm dropped to Iris’ helpless form. The mage slid his hand from her cheek down to her chin, his gentle touch belying the danger hidden in every movement, every word. He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, and his eyes flicked back to Char with a challenge.
“Then I’ll rape her.”
Blood rushed to Char’s head. He roared again and pounded at the orb, ignoring the burning pain from each touch, desperate to break through. The mage was laughing. He’d tortured her to the point of passing out, he was threatening to violate her even more, and he was laughing. Char wanted to get his hands around that man’s neck, throttle him, tear him limb from limb.
So what if transforming cut him in half? Could he chomp down on the mage before he died? Take them both out at once and save Iris from this madman? Was it worth a try?
Suddenly, the mage fell silent.
Char stopped, panting for breath. He followed the mage’s gaze across the room to a single fairy, a solitary golden light flitting toward the bureau.
“Little pest,” the mage muttered.
There was no time for Char to shout a warning. A spark of blue was already shooting toward the fairy, faster than the fluttering golden light—and then, at the last second, the blue smashed into a wall of white.
Char and the mage both looked at Iris in disbelief. She was still apparently unconscious, but her bloody right hand had taken hold of the amulet.
“You are trying my patience, Iris.” The mage sent a thin red line snaking from his finger toward her hand, wrapping around her wrist and palm, twining in and out of her fingers, plunging into the amulet.
She winced and furrowed her brow.
The orb around Char burst.
He lunged for the mage and grabbed him by the collar, throwing him as hard as he could across the room and into the unforgiving stone wall. The red line snapped. The fairy zipped toward Iris, carrying the book Char had brought her on his first visit.
“How are you doing this?” the mage shouted, climbing to his feet.
Char would have loved to pound the man into a pulp, but he couldn’t let his anger override his better judgment. He couldn’t take the mage in a fight, and he needed to get Iris out of there. So he let his anger fuel his transformation, driving the ice faster through his veins, forcing his body through the thick stone walls and ceiling.
It hurt.
He roared in pain, but the fairy was placing the book on Iris' stomach and darting around the bed, tucking the blanket around her like a cocoon, and he couldn't take off until she was ready. Falling stones hit him from above. He gritted his teeth, shielding her and taking each bruising blow, and then a tongue of blue flames headed for his chest, and just when he thought it was over, the flames crashed into another white shield.
The mage was screaming curses at her, flinging useless blue attacks that hit the white and vanished. Char picked her up and spread his wings, launching into the sky and sending another cascade of heavy stones crumbling from the tower to the ground below. A line of fire streaked down from above, bypassing him and hitting the tower.
Got her? Rath asked, circling above as he waited for Char to reach him.
Char didn’t have the energy to ask questions. It would take everything he had in him just to make it home.
Yeah.
Then let’s get out of here.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJFLynk1pg4
