My clever, tricky little human.
“They are close, aren’t they?” she whispers.
I nod, unable to lie to her or deny her anything. She thinks Grim is protective and obsessive, but she doesn’t know the true depths of my feelings for her or what I would be willing to do just to put a smile on her face.
I would face a thousand arachne fey. I would throw myself into a war. I would stand between her and all the monsters if that’s what it took.
All this time, monsters were hunting humans, and now I’m beginning to understand why—they are dangerous, more so than any monster. We crave that spark of life and need to consume it, yet I’m finding I don’t want to consume her anymore. No, I want to be consumedbyher.
Grim snarls, the others speeding up, spreading out behind her to protect her.
Her skin starts to glow slightly with her magic, so faintly I don’t think she even realizes it. She’s magnificent and so beautiful, it hurts to look at her. She shines so brightly and glitters.
She’s like gold—beautifully unique, shines through the darkness, addictive, and hard to obtain.
That’s why I call her Goldie, not just because of her hair.
“We aren’t going to make it,” I realize, saying it out loud. “We need to hide.”
Even as I say that, I know it won’t work. For once, I feel hopeless, and I hate that feeling.
Her eyes close and, as always, I track her every movement, stumbling over a root because I’m so intently focused on her. Luckily, she doesn’t notice, and when her eyes snap open, they glow like trapped jewels.
Like the sun used to.
They focus on something we cannot see in the distance before she turns those glowing eyes to us. “There. We must go there.”
Even her voice is filled with magic.
I share a look with Grim. “What’s there?” he demands.
“Safety.” She frowns, as if she’s unsure what else is there.
“Good enough for me.” I shrug before grabbing her. I throw her over my shoulder and start to sprint, truly sprint, not the slow pace I use when I run alongside them.
I show them exactly how fast a fey can move, almost too fast for them to keep up. If I wanted to, I could lose them all, but she cares for them, so I make sure they can stay on my heels, even as a dark part of me tells me to leave them behind and keep her for myself, but she would be upset, and I hate her tears more than I hate sharing.
She mumbles directions to me, her voice still thick with magic, and we run for so long, even I start to tire. Finally, we break through the trees and I skid to a stop, letting her slide down my body. She doesn’t spare me a look, even as I steady her with my hands on her hips.
No, her eyes are locked on the seemingly solid rock of the black mountains that lead to the castle. “Goldie,” I start, but she pulls away.
She doesn’t look at any of us as she heads straight for the rock. I glance at the others, shrugging at their silent questions, and follow after her. She stops before a piece of solid glowing stone. Her hand dances above it as if she feels something none of us can, then she throws me a grin over her shoulder. “Safety.” She nods, turns, and steps into the rock.
My mouth drops open when she disappears. One second, she was before me, and the next, she’s gone.
“Cora!” Grim roars, his madness taking over, but suddenly her delicate, tan arm slides from the rock, her hand outstretched.
Unwilling to leave her alone, I place my hand in hers, trusting her, and I’m pulled through with her. She reaches for the others, pulling them through. Magic explodes across my skin, like a barrier popping and reforming around us, granting us access, but as it does, it explores what and who we are, and I feel Cora sheltering us from it.
Once everyone is huddled in the darkness, she turns and walks again. There’s a black archway of rock before us, and she stands there as we watch from behind.
“I felt it pulling me here, whispering of safety,” she explains, and then she steps through the archway with a gasp. Once on the other side, she turns to us with round eyes. “Now I know why.”
I follow after her quickly, almost groaning at the pain that washes over me as I move through the entryway, the others grunting when they feel it too, but once on the other side, I understand her shock. The space expands into a huge cavern, with light in a seemingly endless fire brightening and warming the space. Paintings cover the walls and ceiling, a tale of love and loss.
A tale of the old king and his human.
There are treasures, jewels, statues, books, a bed, and a fire. It’s like a haven, a forgotten place of safety, and when I look back to find Goldie and ask her how she knew about it, I see her standing in the middle of the room. Her hand hovers above a plain, black leather book as she skims it, then her gaze meets ours.
