Page 6 of Light Fae's Love
I love Ariana’s smart mouth towards those who try to curry favor.
“To be sure,” Calla Romero says now as she reaches out, petting one of Ariana’s long, red locks back from her face. Admiration is in her dark chocolate eyes as she smiles—and cunning. “She is relentlessly beautiful, Quinn. Quite a triumph to sequester to your side—the first of her kind seen in generations.”
“I didn’t find her. Ariana found me.” I am sharp now, putting iron in my tone as I address Calla Romero. My dark Vampire aura swirls around me in a protective warning that she does not have permission to touch what is mine.
As Calla gets my point and removes her hand from Ariana, my warning surges into immense protectiveness. Because I feel within Ariana a deep desire now to laugh like a maniac, or sob uncontrollably as she tears her hair out. It’s her first experience of touch from a former Tempest. Even though they’re my allies, I’m glad I protect her from the twins, as I feel a deep desire in Ariana to let her emotions run riot.
“Now, now, Quinn,” Eduardo says, his gaze flashing with a canary yellow hue as he looks at me. “We are all friends here. Calla and I are simply curious about your Dark Fae. No need to be defensive.”
“Quinn merely protects what is his, in his Dark Haven. All of us would do the same, Eduardo.”
Another voice joins our conversation as Gunter Spielmann approaches. The blond Master of Bavaria nods as he receives a glass of beer from the bartender to replace his empty one. He sips and makes a pleased sound like a rumbling bear at the quality of the drink, saluting me.
Master Spielmann’s earth brown eyes are calm, though they have a dark ring of crimson in their center. Built like a linebacker, his blocky shoulders tower over the slender Romeros and even over me and Lady Eiseth, though I’m reasonably tall. Fit and trim in his elegant tux with its charcoal jacket and rounded lapels, he was once a German Rock Giant before he was turned Vampire. He smiles and extends a powerful hand, calm and pleasant, though his massive hand and his entire body were built to crush rocks.
“Quinn. Wunderbar Meeting this week. The parties were superb.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed them, Gunther. Do come back next year.” I joke with him now as we shake, the German Master appreciative of a little humor.
“Dark Fae, good to see you.” Sticking his hand out towards Ariana next, Gunther waits for my approval. As I nod, letting her know it’s alright—Gunther knows better than to roll anyone under my care with his power—she extends a hand as well.
“Master Spielmann. Likewise.” Ariana takes Gunther’s hand, shaking. It’s the most normal interaction she’s had with any Master so far as he smiles at her amiably—projecting not a single drop of power, though I know he’s full of it, a deep energy like cannons in battle.
But we have no more time for niceties as a cold sensation like winter winds pours through me. An icy, caustic presence cuts into our conversation, halting our talk. I glance over to see the tall, gaunt Master Ilyov arrive, his chilly demeanor curtailing all conversation instantly.
As he comes into our circle, though, his pale winter-blue eyes boring into mine, I have a deep intuition that he doesn’t mean to be caustic. It’s simply his nature. The intuition came from Ariana; her truth-reading Dark Fae ability is incredible, as she stands before Ilyov now without a single tremor or flicker of her eyelashes. As Ilyov’s brisk winter wind swirls around us, I nod to the vastly aged Master of Siberia.
“Master Vasily Ilyov of Siberia. Be welcome. I am honored you have come to our Meeting, and stayed to its end this week.”
“Your honor is not what I seek here,” Ilyov says, his gaze drilling into me as his ancient, icy winds swirl with a sound like wolves howling in a frozen tundra. “I find your gathering an important movement in Vampiredom, however, which is the only reason I have come this week. Until I saw your Dark Summer Fae, I thought you had little power with which to wage war on the Council of Rome. Now, I wonder.”
“I do not wage war on the Council, Master Ilyov—” I say at once, though I’m cut off by a brisk snort from the tall, cold Master of Siberia.
“Never lie to a Winter Fae, boy. Even one who has not been a Winter Fae for ten thousand years,” Master Ilyov says, as his frigid gaze bores into me. His icy tundra gaze flicks to Ariana next. “You. Dark Fae. What are your opinions on the current Summer Fae King?”
As the Siberian Master stares Ariana down, I feel a lancing thrust of his winter-cold magic flash inside my mind. It’s not my mind, rather Ariana’s he’s invaded, as that terrible, ice-cold magic inundates us both through our connection. As if an icicle of pure truth serum speared her, Ariana’s Dark Fae power blossoms wide at that strike. Brutal honesty is just suddenly tumbling from her mouth in a tirade.
Something that even with all my power and protection, I cannot stop.
“I think King Archivolio Bellari is abominable,” she says, as the Master of Siberia’s chill lance of power spears her. “I think he’s a tyrant, who’s had too much control for too long. His one redeeming quality is that he thinks he’s doing right by his people. But his methods are hulkish and isolationist. Now he cuts off the Summer Fae from the world and makes enemies rather than friends in the Twilight Realm. So I think he should be replaced.”
Silence fills our group as the Romeros, Gunter, and Lady Eiseth stare at Ariana. My lips have fallen open as my power churns, seething inside me now as Ariana bares her truth to the Master of Siberia. My protection can’t prevent this, though; as Vasily Ilyov stares at Ariana like he just might spear her with a thousand icicles for her impertinent answer, a terrible, chill silence takes our group.
A horrible foreboding filling me as my magic seethes.
Then the slightest, most vicious smile cracks the ex-Winter Fae’s pale lips, as his cold eyes sparkle like an ice storm. “Well spoken. Congratulations, Dark Summer Fae; your honest truth has put you in my good graces—you and your Master.” His gaze flicking to me, Master Vasily Ilyov gives a smile that shows the last points of needle-sharp Vampire-Fae fangs. “Master DaPonti. Set up a private chat for the three of us this week. I believe I shall stay until we can all talk. Until then.”
With that, the mysterious Master of Siberia turns, moving up the steps of the atrium with his long stride and exiting the hall. Silence follows as everyone stares.
Whispers moving in the night as my power swirls with shocked intrigue at what just happened.
3
CLAIM
As a whispering silence pervades the atrium after Master Vasily Ilyov’s departure, I note quite a few Masters now gazing intently at me and Quinn. A dark thoughtfulness swirls in the night, as countless tendrils of energy caress me now, trying to understand my Dark Fae power and how I just won Master Ilyov’s approval with it.
Inhaling a swift breath, Quinn pushes their subtle and not-so-subtle drives back, though he has to raise his dark aura hard around himself and me in order to do so. His power flashes with red-gold fire as his eyes blaze like a dark sun’s corona. Quinn’s warning gaze sweeps the garden; at last, Masters all around lift their eyebrows or nod to him, leaving off their searches.