A Dawn with the Wolf Knight (Married to Magic, #5)

by Elise Kova

Then…there’s me. She who maintains the protective charms that keep one from the other and preserve the fragile peace of both.

I adjust the pin at my throat that holds my velvet cloak shut. Labradorite, to protect me from the knowing of the elves. Dangling from my ears are tiny chandeliers, crafted by the finest glassworkers down the rivers and across the distant seas. A suitable gift for negotiating with any clever fae who might cross my path. There is always fresh blood in my veins for a rogue vampir, should such an offering be needed… The sirens I need not fear in the woods, and the roar of dragons has not been heard in the eternal mist that clouds the lands to the north for more than a thousand years.

“Spirits of the old wood, guardians of nature’s order, I come to your doorstep as a humble guest. I seek passage through your domain and will take nothing that is not freely given.”

It is a bad omen, when even the rocks cannot keep magic in their stony grip.

“The power cannot be properly transferred by mortal hands,” Aurora says solemnly. “To remove it from her, we would have to stand before the old gods in the siren’s Eversea and beseech them for aid, as I did ages ago. Take me there and perhaps⁠—”

Aurora’s eyes meet mine and they hold so many unsaid words it’s amazing they don’t overflow as tears. I wish I could offer her reassurance. Even though I don’t think I have nearly as much experience with love, and men, and romance as an immortal spirit does. Still, what little experience I do have, was one of the most painful times of my life.

I tip forward, trying to catch my balance. But the ground of the Fade doesn’t feel quite solid under my feet. I clutch Folost, trying to hold him aloft. I twist my body, reaching out on instinct to stabilize myself so I don’t land on Mary. My fingers close around something warm and solid and I’m able to quickly right myself. The shadows slowly pull away from me. I release what I held onto and meet the eyes that carve hollows into the Fade. Rhave hovers there and, for a second, neither of us moves. “Look after her, please,” he whispers. “I will,” I vow with ease.

Like balls of yarn let loose, viny tendrils unfurl from my hip at the same time as the flame’s explosion. The foliage weaves together, forming a torso, two legs, and two arms. There is a head of tightly woven stems, two massive leaves for ears. A halo of marigolds like hair sprouts all around the green head.

The wood of my makeshift torch is instantly turned to ash. But the shard of brick is enveloped in a hovering orb of flame. Instead of legs, the fire flickers down to a point. Two tongues of flame become arms. Then, a head, with two glowing, golden eyes.

“Folost, Mary, now that you’ve been successfully returned to Midscape, you should go and commune with the old gods to fully restore your strength,” Aurora says gently. “There are precious little of us left.”

“I hadn’t known that you were suffering… I am so sorry.” “You need not apologize,” Folost says warmly. Mary lifts a pointed arm and a small vine unfurls, a marigold at its end, that wraps around my wrist. “Fear not; we shall not abandon you, Faelyn.”

They know me too well. Have seen every moment of my life where someone I love left. Be it my mother going into the woods and never returning. The boy I loved abandoning me with nothing but a broken heart to remember him by. Or clutching my grandmother’s hand every hour until the magic uncoiled from her body.

A vine reaches out to the ground, selecting a small shard of clay from the pot that shattered at my hip. Mary lifts it, holding it before me. I accept the token with both hands. Grandma’s thumbprint dents its surface. Folost does a similar motion, passing the shard of brick from within him into my hands. It’s burning hot, but only for a fleeting moment. Somehow, I don’t seem to really feel the singe at all. “We are honored to be bound to a witch such as you. Never hesitate to call upon us whenever you need.” With those last words, Folost’s flames wrap in on himself and sputter out of existence with a puff of smoke. Mary’s vines return to the earth, withering and becoming soil for the worms to feed on right before my eyes. She leaves behind a trail of marigold petals that catch a breeze that smells of woodsmoke. Of home. As the wind picks up…they’re gone.

“The alpha of a pack—a man who came to be known to all lykin as Bewulf the Uniter—decided to solve this problem for all our brethren. He went on a great journey and sought out the spirit of the moon to make a pact with her. That was all he’d intended.”

“Aurora and Bewulf fell in love. Aurora gave everything to be with the man who had won her heart. To live as close to a mortal life as she could with him. She asked the old gods for this boon and they granted it by way of splitting her power, rendering her mortal—more or less. The rest of her power was placed in a ring, one that she presented to her lover. So deep were her affections that she put her life in his hands.”

I hear Aurora’s story, but the visions in my mind’s eye are not of her. They’re of me, years ago… I’m sixteen and in my loft. I gather a stretch of red thread I carefully dyed myself, a white and red candle, a few other ritual items. Heart fluttering with excitement and anticipation. Tonight is the night I’m supposed to swear myself to another before the old gods. My feet don’t make a sound, as silent as the door behind me. I am a night lark that soars across the grasses and into the forest, to the great redwood tree. I had been ready to give myself wholly that night. Everything I had.

“Aurora lived with the first wolf king until the end of his mortal days,” Evander continues, oblivious to my pain. “After he died, she was going to take the ring and make the journey to return to the old gods that live among the primordial waters of the siren. She’d ask them to restore her power, granting her freedom from her human body to return to her place as a spirit. But she was not allowed to leave.” “Your people trapped her.”

This close, I’m drawn to the binding encircling his wrist. The ornament captivates me. Strips of black leather have been wrapped around an under band. Intricate black stitching is nearly lost amid all the shadows. The pattern, though hardly perceptible in the dim light, almost looks like the stitching of a weaver witch.

Conri pauses; his face becomes a void, every muscle relaxing into a perfectly blank slate. His gaze softens, unfocuses. It is more unnerving than outright hate. Then, emotion and expression all comes rushing back with a smile that is too sweet for comfort. “And now you are here.”

It has been years since I last sought out the bodily pleasure of a man. To engage in the most primal ritual of all. That is not to say I haven’t had satisfaction—a woman learns how to care for herself and all her needs as she grows into independence.

Glimpses of events rush past me, current, past, and future. There’s a large hall, occupied by kings and queens. A celebration in a fae castle with a young child and her parents of two worlds. A festival in snowcapped mountains, overseen by a woman in a blacksmith’s apron. A quiet cottage, on what side of the Fade, I cannot tell…but it feels like home. A pot simmers on the stove over Folost. Mary is in the windowsill. And in the window beyond…

But I saw Evander and three children playing in the tall grasses beyond. No child alike. None who have our jaws or our hair—none who came from my womb. But all undeniably ours.