“And I wouldn’t?”
Her shoulders rolled in, and she hung her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She kicked a pebble with the toe of a too-soft slipper. “Where could I go? And do not say one of the courts.”
“Why?” Resources were plentiful in each of the four. “I’m willing to escort you wherever you decide.” An offer he immediately regretted.
To what end would he do this? Yes, the Summerlands provided lush fields forever in bloom, with honeycombs appearing to drip from every tree. The Winterlands offered bountiful game with tender, succulent meat. The Autumnlands boasted great bodies of fresh water. And the Springlands cultivated herbs and the sweetest fruits. But...
A merciless dread plagued the courts—a male known as Kaysar the Unhinged One. He possessed a voice unlike any other. When he sang, a terrible madness gripped your mind and gut-wrenching pain ripped through your body. You felt as if you were being torn asunder—you wanted to be, just to make it end.
Micah had crossed paths with the male twice, but only at a distance. Close enough to glimpse dark hair, brown skin, and eyes like amber—and to sense a kinship. Was this Kaysar a fellow chimera, though he evinced no hint of scarring?
“Well?” he demanded. “Do you wish to take a husband or a trip?”
“I choose...” She looked from her brother to Micah, hurriedly darting her gaze back to the male with white hair, black eyes and skin as white as his sister’s, before squaring her shoulders. No one ever peered at Micah for long. “I’ll stay. My family is here.”
Family. Something he would never have. He curled his hands into fists, telling her, “Joy to you and yours then.” Ready to be alone, he nodded a goodbye, pivoted on his heel and stalked off.
As he snaked around a corner, a roar sounded in the distance. A second roar erupted on its heels, followed by a third.
Belua.
Micah gripped a serrated dagger, irritation instantly superseded by determination. A horde rarely ventured this close to a village, but when they did, they hungered for bloodshed...
“The beasts come!” The frantic warning echoed across the streets. “Run! Run!”
Panicked shouts filled the village. Micah returned to Elena. She’d paled, her navy blues wide as a stampede of footsteps joined the chorus, fae splitting in various directions up ahead. Only a handful of males stuck around and withdrew swords.
Micah told her, “Protect who you wish to protect or hide. But do something.”
Another roar. Louder. Elena swallowed and nodded.
He jogged past the males who’d stayed behind, calling, “Guard the females.” He could subdue multiple beasts at once, but not quickly and not easily. Better to head them off before they arrived.
Micah’s hood flew from his head as he raced through the wooded terrain, tracking spikes of aggression in the air. Behind him, a twig snapped. He spun, ready to toss a dagger, but caught sight of Norok the Insatiable, Elena’s brother, and spun again, sprinting on, shouting, “What are you doing?”
“Aiding you,” Norok responded, giving chase.
“Are you sure? You are glamaraless.” If rumors were to be believed. “Can you do battle?”
A derisive snort hinted at the retort to come. “You aren’t the only special boy in the village, chimera. Prepare to be impressed.”
“If you survive, I’ll be impressed. How’s that?”
“Fair enough.”
The ground shook, tripping Micah. He regained his balance and slowed. Stopped. They’d reached a clearing filled with massive black stones piled as high as the trees. Stones with faces expressing pure malice.
Inner barbs flared. Found you. The entities emitted the sweetest scent as they stood at attention. A familiar fragrance. All the glories of summer.
A growl percolated at the back of his tongue. Was little Red nearby? When he’d awoken after his second filleting, she’d been absent, never to be seen again. He’d searched to no avail before finally giving up.
Micah still didn’t know if the species served her or enslaved her. Not that he needed to. Nothing would change the outcome of the coming battle.
He counted a dozen stonemen. More than usual. Not enough to make a difference.
A pallid Norok gaped. “Are they...? Do they...?”
Had the male never beheld a living belua? “Yes, they are, and they do.” Micah dropped his dagger and balled his hands into fists. Thin, sharp metal would do little good today.
His companion mimicked the actions. “I hope you excel in battle the way everyone claims.”
“Try to keep up.” He never lost. Not anymore.
The first stoneman charged forward, swinging. Micah was ready. He ducked, yanking Norok out of range. A rocky fist whizzed over their heads. Micah leaped up, pulling back his elbow. Striking...
Impact! Knuckles to rock. Bones cracked, searing pains rocketing up his arm, but he swung twice more in quick succession. Bones shattered, fragments cutting through his flesh.
Worth it. The stone cracked, too, branching across that impossible face.
Satisfaction glimmered within reach as his opponent crumbled and he healed. Of course, the other stonemen wasted no time, attacking in unison, seeming to forget Norok’s presence altogether. Both of Micah’s glamaras blazed. He fought to maintain balance. If his emotions took over, he would empower one ability more than the other.
The whole world should quake at the thought.
Grunting and hissing, belua struck at him with punishing drive. Micah ducked and dived as needed, avoiding contact. Mostly. He punched, kicked and elbowed, his skin burning as the war between his glamaras continued to boil in his veins. Sweat trickled from his nape, dripped down his back and soaked his tunic. He—Shock stopped him in his tracks. Was that...?
He rapid-blinked. It was. Little Red was laughing and twirling between stonemen. Only, she wasn’t so little. She was here, and she was beautiful. A woman fully grown, those freckles still evident.
Ensnared by the sight, he moved closer. Couldn’t halt himself. So a belua did it for him, plowing through Red as if she were mist, slamming a hard fist into Micah’s sternum. He flew backward, crashing into a tree. Impact rattled his brain but failed to erase his thoughts. She’d been a figment of his imagination?
Jumping to his feet, scanning. No other sign of her. Fury threatened to rise. “Did you see the redhead?” he demanded of Norok.
“What redhead?” the warrior demanded as he ducked, avoiding a cuff to the temple.
Other giants homed in on Micah, ending the conversation there. He threw himself back into the fray, thoughts whirling. Why had he beheld her now? Had he seen reality or a figment of imagination? Where was she? When could he see her again?