~Dessa~

Dessa couldn't believe that had worked. Why had she demanded they take her with them, when the last thing that she wanted to do was return to the Dark Realm to face a vindictive Fae Queen? Well, because the alternative was being left behind, to wait and worry if Zaire would return to her. And if it was true that the two of them shared one life force, and the man she loved was somehow slain on the other side of the Veil, she at least wanted to witness their demise, rather than suddenly perish in the mortal world, only able to wonder with her dying breath what could have been powerful enough to kill her mate, and her, by association. Not to mention, for some reason, Zaire and Talon both attempting to force her to stay in The Den to preserve HER safety, while they went to aid the Dark Fae rebellion, had ignited her own need for revenge. The King and Queen had been the ones to order her kidnapping and imprisonment. If it weren't for that, Dessa would probably still be blissfully unaware that everything that she was afraid of was real. She would be listening to music, stressing about money, and focusing on surviving in her more-predictable reality. 

The seed of revenge had excited her shadow - it had wound around her neck like a pet snake, and she had refused to back down until Zaire surrendered. Her selfish pride was short-lived, though, as Talon drove them in the direction of her neighborhood. What the hell?  

"Why are we - " Dessa started to ask, a roll of nausea plaguing her. 

"The closest seam is in the park near your house," Zaire explained, glancing back at her from the passenger seat. 

You've got to be fucking kidding me!  She had literally frolicked through that park growing up, unbeknownst to a goddamn portal to Faerie lingering right under her nose. Once again, she had to come to terms with the fact that she had never been safe. How long had Talon protected her without her knowing? Since she was born? She bit her tongue as Talon parked his silver Volvo and they all stepped out. Dessa slammed her door harder than necessary, and Talon did his best to stifle a smirk as he locked the car with a key-fob. On the way, Dessa noticed tire tracks in the grass, and Zaire chuckled darkly.

"Hm. Someone stole my car."

Talon laughed, shaking his head. "You left the keys in it?"

Zaire shrugged, absolutely careless, "I had more important things to worry about."

Dessa's lips parted, and she didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or cry hysterically. He must have left his Mercedes in the middle of the park, when he went to negotiate for her. The theft of his expensive vehicle didn't bother him one bit. That notion was both infuriating and flattering in some sick way. Infuriating, because she couldn't even afford a damn bicycle, and he mentioned the loss as if it were a minor change in weather. A car that had a higher cost than she could have ever hoped to afford in multiple lifetimes! Flattering, because she  was the thing that was important. The lowly human that he had decided to save was what merited his concern. She decided not to find it admirable. Saving her life once  hardly made up for the countless deaths that she had allegedly suffered. He was not her hero, but rather a villain that had decided to turn a new leaf, after decades of apathy. And she was no damsel-in-distress who would fawn over him blindly. She had to remind herself that just because she was in love with the man, that it didn't mean that he deserved it. She was so desperate for care that she could have twisted a serial killer into a knight-in-shining-armor, if he had just offered her his jacket on a chilly evening. She wasn't so delusional that she would allow herself to be weak in the knees over him abandoning his fancy Mercedes that clearly meant nothing to him. As if he could read her mind, rather than just taste her floundering emotions, he gave her a sideways glance that made her heart lodge in her throat. 

Oh, who am I trying to fool? I would die a thousand deaths just to see his gorgeous smile. 

Dessa swallowed her heart and gave him a pointed look, before rolling her eyes at him, as well as herself. She begrudgingly followed them down a path that she had walked many times, and when they stood before a wavering, void-like gash between two trees, anxiety flooded her nerves with the force of a wrecking ball. With her new ability to see what couldn't be seen by mortals, the seam was floating there in broad daylight, taunting her. Fuck. She didn't want to cross the Veil again. Talon stepped through first, leaving Zaire and Dessa on the other side. 

"It gets easier," Zaire tried to assure her, holding out a clawed hand for her to hold. 

"I don't believe you," she nearly whimpered, but placed her hand in his, anyway. 

"Why am I not surprised?" Zaire huffed in exasperation, but a smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. 

He took a step closer, attempting to tug her behind him, but she dug her heels into the dirt.

"Wait."

Zaire lifted an eyebrow at her as he turned to face her head-on. 

"I just . . . " Dessa felt her cheeks burning and it was a struggle to maintain his gaze. "If things go south, I want you to know that I . . . "

Zaire's shoulders squared and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"I mean, I know you know, but I want to tell you," Dessa squeaked, her anxiety trilling for different reasons, now. 

"We aren't dying today, little doll," Zaire murmured, clearly hoping to deflect her need to vocalize her stupid feelings. 

Dessa gazed into his eyes for an extended moment, willing her lips to say the words, regardless. But she just nodded silently, before stepping into the void, pulling him along with her. Zaire was right. It wasn't as torturous as the first time, since she was prepared to be twisted through the figurative gears, chewed up, and spit out by the Veil. She didn't cry when her feet were back on Faerie soil, but every inch of her body trembled as if she had just emerged from a walk-in freezer with subzero temperature. Talon was nowhere to be seen.

~Talon~

It had probably been over fifty years since Talon had a good reason to apparate. He was never one to find himself in a hurry. He had spent most of the last century in the mortal world, where apparition was not possible for him. But time was not on their side, and he needed to find  Agron, the sentry who had been organizing the rebel faction in secret. Talon had to get to him before the fools preemptively marched on the Dark Court palace, and ruined everything. 

His haste had been reasonable, for once he had re-materialized in the courtyard, the sedition was culminating as an unruly mob, less than a mile from the palace. 

"Cease, at once!" Talon commanded, and it stroked his ego when a hush fell over the crowd. It would seem that his former status as a prominent member of the Dark Court still held some weight. 

Agron shoved to the forefront of the dissenters, puffing out his chest. 

"There is no time to waste!"

"I am well aware," Talon nodded curtly. "Pathos is on his way. If you march without him, I can assure you that death is guaranteed."

A jumble of whispers erupted at his words. Agron shifted, looking uneasy.

"He rejects the Dark Court. We have needed him for years, and he cared not! Why would he come, now?"

"Even Pathos would not allow the Dark to fall in ruin," Talon barked impatiently. "He turns a blind eye no more. Back him, or die. Have your beloved Court flooded with Solitaries who will strike down your mates, and soak the soil with the blood of your children. The reckoning shall be his, and if you make your move before he arrives, your deaths will be in vain. What say you?"

The Fae's brows knitted together, and his chin lifted a notch. 

"We wait!" Agron bellowed to the crowd.

That is what I thought.

~Dessa~

It seemed like only seconds before they had torn across the endless-night sky of the Dark Realm, and landed on the palace grounds, where Talon was waiting with a throng of antsy Dark Fae. As Zaire let her down, the creatures knelt in the dirt with their heads bowed. A sharp cry of gratitude came from one male, and a female sobbed wordlessly at the sight of Zaire. Their savior stood beside Dessa, unaffected, because, of course, he had expected as much. Without his glamour to dull his natural form, the fallen angel exuded such raw power that a crown was hardly necessary to command authority over the Realm. They already saw him as a supreme, guiding force. Dessa flinched at the thought. Was he going to become King of the Dark Realm when all was said and done? Why had she only just realized that was a possibility? And what would that mean for their future? Would he still want her by his side, when he had a whole kingdom to protect? 

"Rise!" Zaire's command rumbled fiercely, and the small Fae army didn't hesitate to heed him. "It is the Queen who shall kneel!"

Talon's lips curled back into a wicked grin that sent a shiver down Dessa's spine. She had never seen such a feral expression on that man's face. Without another word, Zaire stormed forward, his wings stretching behind him, sharpening at every edge, and everyone followed without question. As the Dark Court palace came into view, Dessa nearly stumbled at the sight of it. It was that ominous, twisted castle in the paintings that were hung in Talon's office. The place that she had hoped to never visit, and here she was, marching toward it, when it was the epitome of her nightmares, surrounded on either side by monsters with glowing eyes, gnashing teeth, fluttering wings, and lethal claws. Her bubbling fear had the Fae leaping away from her as if she were on fire, with hungry, resentful expressions on their faces, and Zaire immediately snatched her wrist, yanking her to his side, with a silent warning in his eyes that said, keep your shit together. Dessa willed herself to calm down. It was possibly the worst place to allow herself to be terrified, as it could be likened to waving a fresh steak in front of wild tigers. She reached into a well inside her, desperate to reclaim her newly-formed backbone. She would not distract Zaire by being weak right now, not after she had twisted his arm so that he would let her join him on this mission. 

She pulled all her focus on her shadow, finally drawing it from her neck, and pushing it down to her arm. She tried to imagine it as the weapon that it was meant to be, and it formed into a blade-like tendril that immediately settled her nerves. She would gouge out the Queen's eyes with it, if it came to that. 

~Zaire~

https://youtu.be/Zljvp9-ekyk

A rattle of protest came from the ancient architecture as Zaire narrowly avoided blowing the palace entrance to smithereens. The vestibule was filled wall-to-wall with scrambling, cowardly envoys and sentries that scattered like roaches. Wraithbane  weapons clattered to the floor as they ran for their lives. Some exploded into dust, clearly having betrayed blood rites to defend the Queen at all costs. Pity.

He was hoping for more of a fight. But with Talon on one side, his mate on the other, and a vengeful sedition trailing behind, he could imagine that no one would dare oppose their intrusion. However, upon reaching the throne room, where the Queen surely awaited them, a swarm of Solitaries rushed them, giving Zaire the action that he craved. 

Talon was the first to intervene, using his apparition to his advantage, eviscerating a Solitary male with his legendary claws, and strangling the Fae with his own intestines. Zaire was only seconds behind, his wings shooting out and entangling two Solitaries until their bones crushed each other, letting their lifeless bodies tumble to the polished floor below. The next moments were pure chaos, and the rebels met the horde, congealing into flashes of darkness, spurts of blood, and a cacophony of shrieks. Only one Solitary female managed to burst from the mess, lunging straight for his little doll with a wraithbane  dagger aimed at her heart. Pure instinct drove him forward with a deafening roar, but before his shadows could even reach the Fae, his mate's shadow had twisted through the air at lightning speed, slashing through the female's jugular, sending the Solitary careening downward into a gurgling heap. The dagger skittered across the floor, and his mate had a smile  on her face as she bent to retrieve it. When she looked up at him, holding the blade that could steal eternity from immortals, her eyes blazed, the flecks of darkness appearing to widen, consuming the golden hue of her irises. With droplets of the Solitary attacker's blood splattered on her beautiful face, Zaire could only return her wicked grin, absolutely enthralled by the girl who had once been so fragile. And if there weren't more pressing matters at hand, he would grab her by the hair, drag her to the floor, and fuck the little monster senseless. 

Instead, he took her hand in his, and they stepped over the slain bodies of the moronic legion of Solitaries that had given their life to an unworthy cause. Not a single member of the small rebellion had been felled, though a few were sporting wounds that would surely leave them with brutal wraithbane  scars that would be seen as trophies to the rest of the Realm, when all this was over. Only one sentry stood guard beside the Queen on the dais. The one that had escorted Zaire to the steel building, and led him to the cell that his mate had been imprisoned in. It would seem that the Queen had exhausted all her supporters just to hinder their entrance, and she was too blind to see that the royal guardsmen beside her had no intentions of keeping her from harm. Surely, if the Fae was made to agree to a blood rite, he had found his own loophole to defy the oath, just as Zaire had.

"Pathos," the Queen greeted warmly, as if he were an old friend stopping by for brunch. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"I have come to relieve you of the crown," Zaire told her, holding his hand up to wordlessly command the others to stand back as he stalked toward the dais with measured steps. 

"Oh?" 

The Queen appeared to be unruffled, glancing at her mortal-looking fingernails, even as Zaire's approach brought him only feet away from her. 

"You would trade your life so easily?" 

Zaire was too eager to dispel the calm from her countenance, but now that he was here, he felt the urge to play along, if only for a fleeting moment. He took one step up the dais. He saw her eyes sharpen at the edges, and he could taste her confusion and frustration, directed toward the sentry in her periphery, clearly wondering why the male made no move to stand between the two of them. Zaire noticed at that moment that the sentry's pointed ears were crusted with dried blood. The crazy bastard had gone so far as to deafen himself so that he would not be able to hear the Queen's orders. Damn, that took some dedication!  The sentry's sacrifice would not be in vain.

"Eternity is a little too long to live, don't you think?" Zaire offered inquisitively, tilting his head to the side by a fraction. "You clearly shared the sentiment, when it came to your husband."

Her confidence was wavering, giving way to terror. 

"Y-you do not fear the consequence of the blood rite?" 

Zaire threw his head back and laughed gregariously, "You fool! I only swore my fealty to Roan!"

The color drained from the Queen's face, and she hissed at the sentry to end Zaire, but when the male moved not an inch at her command - even clad in jagged, wraithbane  armor and wielding the largest, double-edged sword forged from the alloy that Zaire had ever laid eyes on - she slid off of the throne, and withered into a blubbering puddle at his feet. Only for a second, did he contemplate letting her live. He flicked a glance back at Talon who responded with a wink. His mate was twirling the dagger in her hand, looking like she was seconds away from finishing the job herself. The sentry beside the now-empty throne simply nodded.

Fuck it.

Zaire sent his shadows down her throat and ripped her apart from the inside out, leaving nothing in the wake of the slaughter but bits of flesh and tatters of her golden-threaded gown. He had painted the dais with her blood, like he had wanted to do so badly on the eve of the dark magic ritual that she had believed would secure her safety, eliciting raucous cheers from all, that echoed through the palace. The throne was his for the taking, but would he claim it?

THE END

(Author's Note: Will Zaire become King of the Dark Court, after all? Will the Light still challenge the Dark? How did Dessa end up as an orphan? Why did she dream of the world of Faerie? Was it really her aunt's brainwashing that caused the nightmares? What's the story behind the scar on Zaire's neck? Are his parents still alive, does he have siblings? Just how strong will Dessa become, and what abilities could she receive the longer that she bears the Mark? Will she choose to go back to the mortal world, choose to stay in the Dark Realm, or split her time between both? Will Zaire come to love her back, or do you think that he already does, and just can't admit it? That, and more, you will have to wait and find out in the next book! I hope you enjoyed the beginning of this dark faerytale!)