Aflora appeared in our meadow,her cloak billowing in the smoke around her. Ella collapsed beside her on a scream that had Kols running right for her.
I grabbed Aflora, checking her for signs of injury beneath the dark fabric surrounding her smaller frame. “Where did you find this?” I asked, stroking my palm down the cloak along her arm. The foreign material contained an electric current, the magic running through it unlike any I’d ever felt.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, her blue eyes peering up at me from beneath the hood. “He killed Anrika, Shade. And Emelyn.”
I flinched, having heard those details from her mind.
“There were others, too,” she continued. “And they were cheering. Happy. Reveling in the deaths of fellow fae.” Her anger lashed at my senses, but her expression radiated pain. “How can they be so cruel and disrespectful with life?”
“Because they’ve been led to believe it’s the only way,” my grandmother replied from the tree line, her voice soft and carrying through the meadow on a subtle breeze. She stepped into view beneath the rising sun, her dark hair glittering with the light.
No cookies.
A good sign.
But my grandfathers were behind her, which meant they felt the need to protect her.
Not a good sign.
But as Zeph and Zakkai burst into the meadow, I realized why. While my grandmother admired and respected Zakkai, my grandfathers interpreted his abilities as a potential threat.
An apt reaction. Zakkai was fucking powerful. However, I trusted him with Aflora because I felt her faith in him through the bonds.
“Aflora,” he said, his palm finding her face beneath the hood and pulling her to him.
Zeph studied her expression for a beat beside him, pacifying himself with her safety, before switching focus to the shrieking female on the ground.
Ella hadn’t stopped crying.
She was telling Kols everything that had happened to Tray, how the council had taken him and changed him into a dark figure of who he should be. She told him about his father as well, saying Malik was acting just like Tray. And she no idea what happened to Kols’s mother, either. She hadn’t seen her in weeks.
“But they’re not themselves, Kols. It’s not Tray. And your dad isn't your dad,” she was repeating again now. “I… I don’t know what the Elders or the Council did… but he… Tray told them to kill me. He gave them permission to… to…” she trailed off on a broken sound and Zeph knelt beside her, his protective energy pouring over her.
“He was surrounded by dark magic.” Aflora swallowed. “I could see it, the ropes binding him, but I didn't know how to free him. There wasn’t time. And I wasn’t sure if… if the Hell Fae Realm would accept him like that.”
“It would have triggered the wards,” my grandmother confirmed.
“With Ella, I somehow knew the wards would accept her. It was instinctual,” Aflora continued as though she didn’t hear anyone else. “But Tray… we need to go back—”
“Constantine will be waiting,” Zakkai interjected, his thumb hooking beneath her chin to pull her attention to him. “He won’t hurt Tray. He already has him on a leash. And if anything, he’ll use him as bait. Which means he needs him alive.”
Kols growled, not liking the sound of that at all.
He’s right, I whispered to his mind. Constantine won’t hurt him any more than he already has. And we need time to formulate a plan. Reacting rashly is what your grandfather wants.
You think I don’t know that? the Elite Blood snapped back at me.
I met his burning irises.
He glared back.
I’m making sure you don’t run off and do something that will hurt us all,I told him softly. He’s your twin, Kolstov. We don’t always think rationally when it comes to those we love.
My words and concern came from a tender place inside me that had only ever existed for Aflora. But my relationship with Kols had evolved over the last two months, becoming something I never could have anticipated.
I cared about him.
And last night, we’d shared something… different.