Her Dark Defenders: Breath of Air (The Darkness of Light Book 1) Read online

  I glanced over my shoulder and caught Marlo’s gaze. He had claimed they were not demons, and perhaps they were not, but at the moment, a lie was just what my people needed to hear. They needed to believe that everything would be perfect. Their loved ones would not fall.

  No one would die tonight, not if I could help it.

  “Go on,” Baxon whispered behind me, squeezing my shoulder.

  As much as I assumed he meant that I should continue speaking, instead, I crossed over to the nearest stricken fairy. I knelt beside the woman. Her eyes had that same glazed appearance my mother’s had.

  I touched her, and the wrist of the man huddled beside her.

  “We were dancing, and she just stopped,” he muttered. “She went still in my arms. She started to fall.”

  “Has she spoken at all?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  Tell Demetrio that I love him.

  I blinked, shocked. It required a lot of mental awareness and magic to be able to communicate with another telepathically. If the woman, Lucia Tigerspark, could talk to me, she must be fighting hard, and if she maintained that much power over her magic, perhaps she had the strength to hang in there.

  “Demetrio, she loves you,” I murmured.

  A single fat tear rolled down his cheek and nestled into a wrinkle near the corner of his lip. Neither of them was the youngest of fairies, but their love remained fresh and everlasting.

  “Tell her…” He shook his head, too overcome by emotions to say more.

  “She knows.”

  I patted his wrist and refocused on Lucia. As I had with my parents, I attempted to seek out the root of her illness. Again, I was stumped. Still, I did my best to ease her suffering, to aid her in clarifying her vision, to heal her in any way that I could.

  If I helped any, I was not certain, and I moved on to help another and many others after that. Between each, I glanced at the four men. They stood nearby, shifting slightly to keep an eye on me, to lend me strength from afar. They were not hovering, and their closeness soothed me. As much as I had friends among many of the fairies here, they were all worried about their brothers or mother or a loved one of their own who had fallen.

  Gradually, I asked for all of those injured to be brought closer to the throne. Cloaks and capelets were laid down for the time being, and those stricken reclined.

  Maids came in to update me on my parents, but they all said the same—no change as of yet.

  After I asked the loved ones what the ill had eaten and drank to see if they all shared any so that we might have some clue as to the origin of their illness, I learned nothing. Still, I crossed over to the food, but my magic did not detect any poison or magical reasoning for their illness. Could so many have been infected elsewhere but the symptoms not appear until now? That did not seem likely, but I had no notion as to what might have caused all of this.

  Beyond stressed, I was heading toward the thrones once more when a maid crossed through the nervous, anxious fairies to my side.

  “No change as of yet?” I asked her before she could say anything.

  The maid nodded. “I am afraid you have the right of it, Princess.”

  “Have one of the healers come here,” I dictate.

  “But—”

  “Please.”

  The maid nodded low, almost a bow, and she dashed away.

  When the healer came over, a male by the name of Badger Driftsand, his lips were twisted into an impressive scowl. He was one of the eldest healers, the strongest of them all. He looked beyond weary. He was overly taxing himself to heal my parents, but his efforts thus far had been in vain.

  “Can you not look over these fairies?” I pleaded.

  “But your parents—”

  “Are not the only ones who need to be helped,” I said firmly. “Please. At least look them over.”

  Badger sighed, exasperated. “I do not think—”

  “You were not told to think. You came when I summoned a healer, and now, you will do as I say.”

  His nostrils flared, but he began to work on one of the younger males afflicted.

  “Tough as steel,” I overheard Solo whisper.

  “You should feel her shoulders,” Baxon said.

  I shot them a look. Baxon winked back, and I shook my head. If I weren’t so worried, I would smile. They were doing their best to distract me, and I appreciated it.

  Darla Sweetstorm rushed over to me and clung to my arm. “Oh, Violet, I’m so sorry about your parents.”

  “Did you just get here?” I asked, taking in her simple dress, a pale white, a linen she might have slept in. Her wild, unkempt black hair was not even curled. She looked as if she had rushed here after falling out of bed, hardly fitting at all for the ball, not that the ball was going on at the moment.

  “I did. I was up late last night, trying to find some herbs, and I overslept—”

  “The ball started at four in the afternoon,” I said dryly. “What time did you go to bed last night?”

  “The sun had already come up,” she admitted.

  “Which herbs?” Badger asked.

  “Buxus, smire, and inkberry,” she said.

  “Did you find any rock bitterweed?” he asked urgently.

  I gaped at him. “Why would you want that? It’s poison!”

  "Yes, but I have been studying human medicine. Sometimes, poison can be guided to help fight disease."

  “That seems rather dangerous,” I said.

  “Given that nothing we have done thus far has helped your parents at all, I think we must be willing to try anything and everything.”

  I hesitated and glanced at Darla. After all, if she had been unsuccessful, this discussion was moot.

  “I did,” Darla said, “but I did not bring any. I didn’t think—”

  “Of course you didn’t,” I assured her. I side-eyed Badger. “You are certain about this?”

  He shook his head, his long, nearly white hair falling over his shoulder. “I have been around for nearly a thousand years, and I have never seen anything like this before. I fear we will need something drastic to save them.”

  “I could not locate the source of the illness,” I said desperately. “Have you?”

  “It’s hidden deep inside and burrowing deeper with every passing moment.”

  The pain in his eyes suggested that at some point, there would be nothing at all they could attempt to help them.

  “Darla, come. We will go and use the node to travel to your home and return.”

  My friend gasped. Only the royal family was supposed to use the nodes, which allowed for instantaneous travel between the castle and any place within the fairy realm. Only those with royal blood could make use of the nodes, but so long as Darla and I held hands, we should be able to travel together.

  Swiftly, we raced to the southernmost part of the castle, past the dungeons we had never used to a door. Beneath it shone a strange teal light. I shoved the door open and stood on the runes carved into patterns on the stone floor. Whispering my enchantment under my breath, liquid rose up from the ground to fill the runes, and instantly, we were transported to Darla's house. It took her only a moment to return to my side, and once I whispered the closing spell, we returned to the castle, standing once more on the runes. With a mad dash, we returned to the ballroom.

  “Shall I try on your parents first?” Badger asked as Darla handed him the pouch of poisonous herbs.

  I grabbed the pouch, removed some of the herbs, and nodded. “You tend to my parents. I will try here.”

  Badger nodded and hurried away.

  “Do you think this will work?” my friend asked, hovering.

  “Please. I need to concentrate.”

  As before, I sought out my magic, for my healing powers and strove to locate deep within him the source of the illness. When I did find it, I could not distinguish what exactly it was save for it being foreign. I hesitated a moment before pressing a small piece of a single leaf beneath the you
ng man’s tongue. Then, I flooded my healing light into him, combining it with the toxic might of the herb.

  After a moment, I pulled back and waited. The man, Canyon, had fallen unconscious while I had tried to help him. He felt so cold in my arms. I held his head against my chest as I sat on the ground, and then, I felt movement. Or did I imagine it? No. He opened his eyes, groaned, and struggled to sit up.

  His family helped him to his feet, and some of the other fairies who could heal came forward. I gave them the herb. My gaze caught on the four men. They nodded to me, and I wondered if they might know what was going on, or if they might have something to do with this. No. No one was allowed entry tonight without an invitation. Either my mother, father, or both wished for them to be here.

  But if not them, then who? Or perhaps no one singular person was the cause. Perhaps nature had conspired against the fairies, and finally, an illness could weaken us. I hoped that was not the case.

  I squeezed Canyon’s hand before fleeing the ballroom. I had been as strong as I could for my people for as long as I could, but now, I needed my parents.

  I burst into the room. The healers were holding hands, their light so dazzling it blinded me. Only after blinking furiously could I see my parents lying on a bed, their hands held above the blanket covering their bodies.

  Without hesitating, I broke the circle so that I might become a part of it, and I, too, lent my healing powers to my parents.

  But I could feel it the moment we attacked the source. The darkness had seeped too deeply into my parents. It was too far widespread.

  Even so, we fought, we struggled, we gave our all.

  Our all was not enough.

  Chapter 6

  My parents had died seven days ago, and I remained numb from grief. My eyes had no more tears to give. A single wail had escaped my lips once I realized neither of my parents’ hearts still beat, and then I retired back to the ballroom and did my best to help heal as many of the others.

  Every single other fairy who had been stricken ill had been cured. Every other one. My parents were the only causalities. No one else in the realm had gotten sick, and no one else succumbed to the mysterious illness the days after or any of the preceding days. The healers had no notion what had caused the sickness.

  The healer I sent to my parents had failed. Was he the one to blame? I could hardly know what to think, and there was no means to determine guilt if any guilt could be leveled on a man.

  Time and again, advisors sought me out. They wished for me to be crowned queen. They wanted a ceremony, a coronation.

  I wanted to be left alone.

  Friends came to visit me, but I turned them all away. I had not seen the four men I had met at the ball, and I did not wish for that to be rectified, not even to learn their connection to my parents. Isolation was all I wanted, to be alone in my grief, my worries, my shame.

  Yes, shame. I had been able to save some of the fairies myself, but I could not help to save my parents. Even though at least ten healers tried to, we failed. How? How was that possible? The best healers of all the fairies, and we could not save my parents.

  The fairies have always had a king and a queen. The first two human-angel pairings had resulted in a boy and a girl. They grew up and fell in love while other fairies were born. Those two became the first royal couple.

  I thought I had time. I thought my parents could teach me more. I thought… I hoped… I wanted…

  But thinking and hoping and wanting would change nothing.

  For two days, I had not left my bed. I dragged myself out now and forced my legs to bring me before the mirror. If my mother could see me now, she would be scandalized. My brown hair hung limp, ragged, and tangled. My dark eyes were dull and bloodshot, my face pale and blotchy, and beneath my eyes were black, puffy bags.

  From the pitcher at my vanity, I poured some water into a basin and washed my face. I normally wore minimal makeup, but I had to wear a thick layer to look somewhat presentable. Untangling the knots from my hair required ten minutes, and I went to the door, intent on leaving when I realized I was wearing my nightdress yet.

  After slipping into a simple green dress, I dared to open the door. My chambers as the princess were impressive, but it was nothing compared to the joint chambers my parents shared. The thought that I would be queen and should move into my mother’s room and bed nearly had me turning around again.

  Instead, I forced myself to ask a maid if she would gather the advisors for me to meet with them in the councilor’s hall. Instead of heading to the hall directly myself, I went down to the kitchen and asked for some fruit. My appetite had not yet returned, but I could force myself to eat some berries.

  I nearly choked on the water, but once I ate some and drank almost a goblet full of water, I made my way to the hall. Thankfully, most of my parents’ advisors were already there, and I only had to wait five more minutes for the stragglers to arrive.

  “I am certain you can figure out why we are here,” I said rather sharply.

  “We do need a queen.” Loue Fernmint was one of the oldest fairies. Her hair was all pinned up. I had never seen it down, so I had no notion how long her hair might be.

  “And a king,” Jamie Birdbreeze brought up.

  I glowered at the male, the youngest on the council of advisors. He came from a prominent family, descendants from the third ever fairy. Jamie thought he could do no wrong and that everything he said should be turned into law.

  “We do not need a king immediately,” Dune Goldenheart admonished. He and my father had been the best of friends. Beneath his eyes were the same bags my makeup had covered.

  “I…” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. “I will be relying on your aid and assistance heavily at first,” I said, my voice wavering.

  Damn it. My mother would not appreciate my showing weakness. Even if they know the source of my difficulties, I should be able to rise above and overcome my struggles.

  “You can do this,” Loue murmured, hardly moving her lips.

  I stared at her. She and my mother had spoken months ago. Together, they had determined I was not nearly ready to sit in important meetings as of yet. The few times I had, I either fell asleep during or paid so little attention that when I was asked a question, I had no notion what they were talking about.

  It was not that I found matters and affairs within the realm boring, just the council. I preferred to be outdoors, outside of the castle, out in the fields and countryside. I had at times helped to resolve issues between fairies by happenstance. If I were riding around and noticed an issue, such as Helio and Firo fighting over a fence line, I was able to hold them so that neither was upset.

  But the matters the council discussed were always so boring and seemed to affect only certain fairies rather than all of them. Perhaps I could change things, but I did not even know where to begin.

  Actually, I did.

  “The coronation can be held in two weeks’ time,” I said.

  But the advisors were shaking their heads, and my heart sank.

  “Sooner,” I mumbled.

  Loue nodded sympathetically. “You must within a week, my dear.”

  “A week,” I repeated numbly. “Why so soon?”

  The advisors exchanged a glance, and immediately, I knew that something had happened that I was ignorant of.

  “We have not even buried my parents yet,” I protested.

  “The ceremony can be joint,” Jamie suggested.

  I slammed my palms onto the table and stood, glaring at them each in turn. “I would know why you all think I must be wed so quickly.”

  Again, they stared at each other.

  “Loue, please,” I begged, not caring that I, as her future queen, should not have to beseech her.

  She pursed her lips so much that her deep lines and wrinkles nearly hid her mouth. “It is the war.”

  Goosebumps appeared on my arms beneath my sleeves. “The angel and demon conflict has never involved fairies,�
�� I said.

  “We, ah, we have increased the number of guards on the border of our realm,” Dune said. “Every border.”

  “Only last night, we saw evidence of a battle not far away at all from our lands,” Loue admitted.

  “And you think we are vulnerable with no queen.” I wearily rubbed my forehead. “You truly believe that my being queen will cause the demons and angels to reconsider dragging us into the conflict?”

  The advisors nodded, but they would not look at me, and their overwhelming lack of trust hurt me deeply.

  I nearly sat and then straightened again. “I helped to heal those who were sick. I was a leader that night, and I will be the best queen I can be for the fairies. Whatever preparations need to be made for the funeral and the coronation, let us decide them now. One week from now, my parents will be laid to rest, and I will be crowned.”

  Chapter 7

  Most of the decisions concerning the funeral and the coronation, I allowed the advisors to determine including the gown I was to wear for the funeral. Now that the day had come, and I spied the gown laid out on my bed, I could not do it. I could not wear a gown that color. That shade was the same darkness that I had struggled to remove from my parents and failed.

  Instead, I opted to wear a green and brown gown, one that would allow me to blend in with nature. My parents would be marched through the realm until they were laid in their final resting spot, floating on the river to the edge of the water. Considering how much of our land was forested, being able to blend in with the plants and underbrush was fitting. My parents were returning to the earth, and so, I would bid them farewell as a part of the earth too.

  When Elle entered my room and spied that I had changed gowns, she said not a word but helped me into the one of my choosing. She styled my hair, placing all sorts of flowers throughout, including honeysuckles, fernleaf yarrow, red valerian, and heliotrope. As she worked, my mind wandered, and I wondered if those four men—Marlo, Solo, Aman, and Baxon—might make an appearance. If they did, I would not be up for flirting or teasing. My friends had attempted to contact me, but I could not bear to allow any of them in. My mother had only two close, dear friends, my father only the one. I had countless friends, but now, perhaps, I understood why they kept only a few tight to their breasts. When the weight of the realm fell on one’s shoulders, one could not afford to worry about any one person above the others, not even friends.