Fairydale: A Dark Gothic Fantasy Romance

Two days later, Caleb is still not back.

Since my talk with Rhiannon, I’ve been all by myself, either in my room or in the library, reading.

I’ve seen Katrina in passing, but she commutes to school outside of Fairydale every day so she leaves in the morning and comes back late in the afternoon.

Boredom soon pokes its head to the surface, especially as my frustration mounts at the half-truths and the incomplete information I have.

After Rhiannon had told me about Amon and the fact that the six families need me to kill him off for good, I’ve found myself going down the rabbit hole of overthinking everything.

I’d jotted down all I know in my notebook as I tried to make sense of it.

And though Rhiannon had revealed to me more than I would have thought she would, there are still glaring discrepancies.

There is the past as I know it—as I’ve seen it through my eyes. Then there’s the version that has made it to the history books.

And while I am aware that Amon’s influence could interfere with my perception of the past, I can’t help but feel that my memories are real—that everything I’d seen of the past was what Elizabeth had lived through.

Otherwise, why reveal everything Fiona had told me? Why would Amon show himself to me as the blood-thirsty demon that he is instead of the sweet lover he’d been up until that point?

Yet that’s not the only doubt I have regarding what I’d learned. Rhiannon had all but told me it’s my fate to help kill Amon. She hadn’t asked for my help, she hadn’t even asked if I want to do this though it might prove fatal to me. She’d simply stated that I would do it—because it had been foretold.

How is that fair to me? What about what I want?

I sigh, blowing my hair from my eyes as I tap my pen against the wooden table. Hours of thinking, and all I have to show for it is a mounting headache and conflicting information.

Flipping the pages of the notebook, I stop at my list of questions as I circle the most important of them all—and one Rhiannon had tried her best to circumvent.

Who is my mother?

And why would she have thought she was protecting me by leaving Fairydale with me?

By my calculations, she should be a member of the six families, but which?

Wouldn’t Rhiannon have told me already if she was a Hale?

The more I ruminate about that question, the more I realize there is only one person who can give me an answer. The only one who’d straightforwardly told me he knew my mother and could tell me more about her.

Archibald Nicholson.

Deciding I need to take matters into my own hands, I put on a sundress and a light blazer since the weather has turned chilly. Fiddling with the red bracelet Rhiannon had placed upon me, I have to wonder if this will help me in any way—or if it isn’t a veiled threat.

Maybe I’ve become a little paranoid in my time in Fairydale, but everyone has their own agenda. Aside from Rhiannon’s worry that some creature might get its hands on my blood and jeopardize her plans, I doubt she cares much about what happens to me.

The only one who’s been there for me from the beginning has been Caleb.

He’s the only person who’s gone far and beyond to help me and seems to have my well-being at heart. Though I’ve had moments in the past where I’ve doubted him—due to my own mental failings—I now realize that he’s only ever been frank with me. Including the fact that I shouldn’t blindly trust his family.

A sudden wave of melancholy hits me when I think of him, and I wonder how long his business will keep him away. In such a short time he’s become my rock. It’s a little unsettling to realize that not only have I come to depend on his company, but crave it like an addict.

‘You’d better come home soon, Caleb,’ I mutter under my breath as I comb my hair, plaiting it in a simple braid. Since he’s not here, I will have to walk to town, where I will need to inquire about Mr. Nicholson’s address.

Maybe it’s a little rude of me to come thusly unannounced, but he had previously invited me to dinner, so I hope he won’t be too bothered.

Once I’m ready, I head out, carefully making my way towards the town.

A light breeze brushes my skin as the sun hides behind the clouds.

Gazing at the sky, I hope it’s not going to rain any time soon. At least not while I’m so far away from town.

Increasing my pace, I can’t help but notice that the clouds are becoming darker and darker, a loud sound echoing in the sky.

Pulling my blazer tighter around my body, I try to maintain my body heat as the atmosphere changes, the temperature suddenly dropping.

‘Nothing is happening, nothing is happening,’ I chant to myself as I pass by the Old Church and what’s left of 12 Astor Place.

Until now I’d only seen it in passing from the car, but as I take in the charred wood and the barely standing structure, I cannot possibly imagine how I would have made my way out onto the lawn where Caleb had found me.

Goodness, but that was such a narrow encounter with death.

The moment that thought arises, though, I have to wonder if I can actually die. Since my injuries heal on their own, does that mean that I am invincible? Will I even grow old since my cells will just heal themselves?

Once more, I am overwhelmed with questions. I hadn’t taken the time to consider the implications of my newly found abilities before, but now that the seed has been planted, I can see the countless possibilities.

Lost in my thoughts, I startle as a bolt of lightning whips across the sky, branching out in smaller lines as it takes over the entire visible horizon.

A shiver goes down my back at the sudden change in weather, especially since it had been perfectly fine when I left the house.

Even more suspicious is the fact that these sudden changes in weather have happened before—like when I’d first arrived in Fairydale.

Could it be that Amon can control the sky?

My brows pinch together in worry as the wind picks up, blowing right in my direction.

Right at that moment, lightning strikes in front of me, the bolt hitting the road and causing the ground to quake and shatter at the point of impact.

Startled, a panicked cry escapes me as I jump back. At the same time, more loud noises erupt in the sky and all around me.

My mind becomes a huge void as fear overtakes me.

Out of nowhere, a scratchy sound resounds, before something attacks me, tackling me to the ground.

I’m so stricken with fear that I fail to realize the thing is not attacking me—rather licking me.

‘Mr. Meow?’ my voice wobbles as I struggle to gain control over my shaking body.

I take a deep breath, and when even that doesn’t help, I continue to breathe in and out while Mr. Meow languidly licks my cheek before he nuzzles his furry face against mine.

‘It’s just you, Mr. Meow,’ I finally sigh in relief when I manage to clear the fog of fear.

The storm is still brewing, and gathering myself off the ground, I cradle Mr. Meow to my chest as I walk faster and faster—barely short of a run—towards town.

Mr. Vaughan had said Astor Place was fifteen minutes away from town. Despite the rumbling thunder and the flashy lightning, I manage to get there in half the time.

I barely feel my legs when I make it to the town center. My lungs constrict in my chest, my breathing intensifying.

‘We’re here,’ I whisper to the cat in my arms.

Despite his absence, I’m happy to have come across him again. At least now I’ll have someone else to keep me company while Caleb is away.

I’ll have to ask first if I’m allowed to house a pet in the manor, though if they won’t allow me, I’ll hide Mr. Meow somehow.

Oddly enough, the moment I enter one of the shops in the town square, the clouds suddenly dissipate as if there had been no storm.

Biting my lip in consternation, I can only hope that whatever was after me is gone for good.

‘Excuse me,’ I put on a polite smile as I enter the small shop. ‘I was wondering if you could tell me where Mr. Nicholson’s residence is?’

The clerk looks up, surprised to see me.

Although Mr. Nicholson had assured me he’d put in a good word for me, I’m still worried that the townsfolk blame me for everything that happened.

‘Oh, you’re Miss Darcy, aren’t you?’ the older woman bursts out, her face breaking into a genuine smile.

I nod tentatively.

‘It’s so good to finally meet you. Archibald has told us all about you,’ she starts, getting up from her seat and coming towards me. ‘Anyone who comes as highly recommended as you is welcome here.’

‘Thank you,’ I murmur.

Unusually chatty and helpful, the woman takes out a map of Fairydale, showing me the exact route to Mr. Nicholson’s house.

Before I leave, I find out just how well-respected the man is in the entire town.

‘He’s helped all of us at some point. Everything you see built in this town, Mr. Nicholson and his family did it,’ the clerk recounts, sharing that most small businesses have a personal relationship with Mr. Nicholson and his family.

‘You’ll be in good hands with him,’ she says as I head out, thanking her for everything.

Mr. Meow is getting increasingly more agitated.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll ask Mr. Nicholson if he has something for you to eat. It can’t have been easy for you these days,’ I coo lightly. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t look for you more.’

His paw is on my cheek, his claws sheathed as he gently strokes my skin.

I give him an indulgent smile, patting him on the white spot on his head.

Guiding myself with the map the clerk had given me, I follow a serpentine road before I reach an imposing house.

It’s not as big as the Hale manor, but it speaks of the same type of grandiosity with its neoclassical façade and the entrance that simulates the Roman Pantheon.

I swallow hard as a wave of nervousness hits me. Not only because my surroundings are a little…gloomy but also because I’m coming here unannounced.

Before I can chicken out, I push my chin up, straightening my spine and marching forward. With Mr. Meow in one arm, I use the other to knock on the thick bronze door rapper.

Stepping back, I simply wait.

It’s not long before someone opens the door.

It’s a woman in her fifties, or sixties, and upon taking a good look at me, a bright smile stretches across her face.

‘You must be Miss Darcy,’ she exclaims, clapping her hands together.

How is it that everyone already knows who I am in this town?

‘Ah, yes,’ I nod awkwardly.

‘Mr. Nicholson has told me all about you. He knew you’d be calling on us at some point. Do come in,’ she says warmly, motioning me inside.

‘Let me grab your jacket, and if you’ll follow me into the drawing room, I’ll inform Mr. Nicholson of your arrival at once,’ she starts, taking my blazer and putting it on a hanger. ‘I do hope you’re planning to stay for lunch. I’m making Mr. Nicholson’s favorite stew…’ she drones on, her chatty disposition making me feel better about this impromptu visit.

Leading me to the drawing room, she tells me to wait a moment as she calls on Mr. Nicholson.

Nodding, I find my attention going back to Mr. Meow, who is getting more agitated by the second, baring his teeth for no reason at one of Mr. Nicholson’s portraits.

‘Easy.’ I pull him close to my body. ‘We don’t want to damage anything of worth around here. Until I get my inheritance I have absolutely no money,’ I whisper in his ear.

Once more, it dawns on me how silly I’m being. It’s not as if he could understand what I’m saying. Yet his body-language tells me he does. That he’s an intelligent animal and he enjoys it when I address him directly.

‘Meow,’ he screams at me, jumping out of my arms.

Well, most times, anyway.

Just as I’m about to get up and run after him, the sound of heavy steps stops me in my tracks.

Mr. Nicholson appears in the doorway, his cane hitting the floor with a thud.

‘Miss Darcy! How good to see you!’ he exclaims with good humor.

My lips tip up in a smile.

‘Thank you for having me. I hope I’m not inconveniencing you.’

‘Bah, of course no,’ he waves his hand. ‘Helena will bring us tea. Let us have a seat,’ he says as he steps deeper into the room.

Though I keep my eyes alert for Mr. Meow, I take a seat on the sofa opposite him, folding my legs to my right and straightening my spine.

As Mr. Nicholson takes his seat, propping his cane by the side and away from my view, Helena bursts into the room with a tea tray.

She’s still chatting away, explaining that I will love the meal she’s preparing and that she hasn’t had a visitor to feed in a long time.

‘You can retire, Helena,’ Mr. Nicholson adds after she’s served us each a cup of tea.

‘Of course, sir,’ she says blithely, so much so I expect her to skip out of the room, not walk.

Yet her disposition puts me more at ease, thinking that you can tell a lot about the employer by how he treats his employees. And Helena seems to adore Mr. Nicholson.

‘What brings you here, Miss Darcy?’

‘I was wondering if we could continue our chat from last time. You said you knew my mother and father, and I would love to hear more if possible.’

He nods thoughtfully.

‘Of course. I’ll do my best to give you as much information as possible. What is it exactly that you want to know?’

‘Who was my mother? I doubt her last name was O’Sullivan. No one so far has recognized it.’

‘Indeed,’ he drawls, taking a sip off his tea. ‘I suppose she tried to pass herself as a respectable widow, is that not so?’

I nod. She’d always said my father had died before I was born.

‘You would be correct. Her last name was not O’Sullivan,’ he pauses. ‘It was Nicholson.’

My lashes flutter in befuddlement as I stare at him thoroughly confused.

‘N…Nicholson?’ I repeat, swallowing hard.

He nods grimly.

‘She was my daughter,’ he confesses with a deep sigh.

‘What?’ I squeak, my lips parting in shock.

‘I can’t say I was always a good father,’ he sighs. ‘I take full responsibility for that. But I never thought she would run away—do everything in her power to ensure she wasn’t found.’

‘But…’ I blink, slowly taking everything in.

‘I may have overreacted when I heard about her relationship with Leo. He was married at that time and…’ he purses his lips. ‘She could be very stubborn when she wanted,’ he shakes his head, sadness descending upon his features.

‘Did you know she was pregnant when she left?’

‘I suspected, but there was no way I could verify. It wasn’t until much, much later that Mordechai told me he found the swan brooch for sale. That’s how we found out about you.’

‘If you knew,’ I pause to choose my words carefully. After all, it’s not every day you find out that you have a living grandfather—one who knew about your existence all along but did nothing. Just like Leo Pierce, Mr. Nicholson didn’t think I was worthy, did he?

‘If you knew, then why did you never come for me? At least visit, or send a letter,’ I ask, doing my best to keep my voice from breaking. ‘I was all alone, and I’m sure at least one letter would have made a world of difference.’

He flattens his lips in a grim line as he regards me, his eyes full of sorrow.

‘I’m sorry. I wanted to, but there’s a reason I didn’t. Just as there’s a reason your mother decided to run with you.’

‘And that is?’ I raise a brow, my tone more scathing than I would have liked.

‘If you’re here, then I am confident Rhiannon Hale already told you about Lydia Hale’s vision.’

I frown, surprised he knows about it, but wondering about the connection.

‘She knew that if you grew up in Fairydale you would be indoctrinated by the Hales, forced to listen to their agenda. She knew you would no longer have a choice. And that’s what she wanted for you, Darcy. She wanted you to choose.’

‘You know about the vision? But how…’ I trail off.

Katrina had made it clear that the Hales and Nicholsons do not get along. Then how could he know…

‘Everyone is aware to an extent. There’s a reason they aren’t well liked in town. They’ve laid siege to that house and continued with their outrageous quest,’ he says the last word with thorough disgust.

‘By that you mean to tell me you don’t agree with them? Rhiannon told me there’s an evil in Fairydale that needs to be eradicated and that…’

‘That you’re going to do it?’ he scoffs. ‘Plenty have tried before and have failed. What she wants is to lead to another set of deaths. It wasn’t enough the first time,’ he grumbles under his breath.

‘Forgive me for prying, but are you part of the six families?’

His eyes narrow.

‘Yes,’ he answers curtly. ‘Which is how I know their quest is madness personified. No one will survive another fight with that demon. I’ve tried to tell her countless times that we could fortify the seal in a similar ceremony without risking everyone. Without risking you. But she won’t have any of it.’

I bite my lower lip as I regard him. There’s something off about this entire situation. Something that doesn’t sit right with me but I cannot pinpoint what.

All I know is that both Rhiannon and Mr. Nicholson seem to have their own versions of the story as well as different…solutions. With their added conflict, I simply don’t know which one to trust.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t get more information.

‘What’s the difference between the rituals?’ I inquire.

‘The one Rhiannon wants to perform involves a forbidden spell that consumes life force, Darcy. The stronger the life force, the stronger the spell, which is why only the elders would be asked to perform it. And…you.’

I nod grimly. I’d been right to assume that the ritual would pose a danger to my life. And if the original elders died trying to trap Amon there, then I don’t know how they would manage it this time and survive to see another day.

‘The ritual I suggested is a simple spell that requires a blood sacrifice,’ he pauses when he sees my alarmed expression, ‘but not death. A simple offering to fortify the chains that keep the demon subdued. And your blood is powerful enough to do that.’

‘I see,’ I reply slowly.

His version of events contradicts what Rhiannon told me about not letting anyone get their hands on my blood, especially Amon.

Doubts continue to accumulate in my mind, but I don’t let it show.

Instead, I merely smile at him, nodding along.

‘So you see, we didn’t want to reach out and expose you to this. At least not until you were at an age where you could make the decision for yourself. That was our intention. But then Leo died and…’ he drifts off, his eyes full of sadness.

‘I’m sorry about his passing. His death was horrible. Was it the demon that caused it?’ I probe carefully.

Pursing his lips, he nods.

‘Just like he’s caused every single odd death in the last two centuries. Just like he caused the plague.’

‘The plague?’ I frown. ‘He caused that, too?’

My eyes narrow.

Now that is something that Rhiannon had failed to mention. Surely if she thinks he’s so evil, she would have told me that he killed people en masse with the plague in order to convince me to help her. Wouldn’t she?

‘He did. Before the elders subdued him, he killed everyone from Fairydale to Ipswich and all the nearby villages. If they hadn’t gotten in time, I fear he could have wiped out the entire East Coast. Or more…’ he releases a sad sigh in an attempt to convey his feelings on the matter. Yet why does it seem so forced?

Why did I spot the slightest curl of his lip when he mentioned Amon killed everyone?

‘Dear God, but that’s horrible,’ I cross myself, feigning a terrified expression.

Two can play at this game.

He might be my blood relative, but I have no allegiance to him, just as I have no allegiance to anyone in Fairydale.

Funny, though, how everyone wants me—expects—me to help them.

Where were they when I was ten and wondering what would happen to me because the only person I’d had in the world suddenly left me all alone? Where were they when I spent my entire youth and teenage years trying to prove something because I felt expendable? Because I felt so grateful that the nuns had taken me in that I transformed my entire life to suit their expectations? Where the hell were they when I was working myself to the bone during the day and crying myself to sleep at night?

They were nowhere to be seen.

Not Leo Pierce. Not Mr. Nicholson. And not Rhiannon Hale.

No one had been there for me, and I don’t mean in a financial capacity, since it’s clear that Leo had given money to the orphanage to keep me on. But they hadn’t been there for me in the way that mattered the most—human to human.

Now? They want me to risk my life for something I have absolutely no stake in.

On the contrary, a part of me—the one that still loves Amon—would never want to see him harmed in any way.

Does that make me a bad person? Knowing he potentially killed hundreds of people—perhaps more—and yet I know I couldn’t bring myself to harm him.

If it does, then I’ll acknowledge it as my fault.

Maybe… Just maybe… I am more wicked than I ever thought.

But in light of everything I’ve found out so far—all conflicting and potentially misleading information—I can only conclude that everyone is underestimating me.

Yes, I might be a little uptight, and maybe a little too set in my proper ways since I’d forced myself to become someone the nuns would be proud of, but I’m not stupid.

And so far, everyone seems to assume I am.

‘How could anyone do such a thing,’ I continue in the same horrified tone. ‘This…demon,’ I drop my voice to a whisper. ‘Who is he? How is he capable of so much destruction? Just…how?’

He nods emphatically, simulating my terror.

‘His name is Amon. He’s been in conflict with the coven for centuries. Maybe more. It all started when he absorbed the power of the first…’ he starts recounting the same thing Rhiannon had told me—verbatim.

‘But is there nothing more known about him? Why would he do such a thing to poor Elizabeth?’

He shakes his head.

‘He’s evil, Darcy. His very essence is evil. How could you expect anything else from such a being? It’s why we’re here—to stop this from happening. But if we do it Rhiannon’s way…’ he shakes his head. ‘We’re sacrificing good, powerful witches for something that might not even work.’

‘I understand. I agree with you. Why should we take chances when we could reinforce the seal?’

His eyes flash at my statement, his mouth curling upwards.

Interesting.

‘I’m glad you are a sensible woman, Darcy. I’m sure together we can make Rhiannon and the other elders see reason.’

I give him a tight smile.

‘Just out of curiosity,’ I add pensively. ‘If I don’t get involved at all, what will you do?’

‘I will have to take drastic measures to stop Rhiannon from her folly. If I have to present my case in front of the elders, then so be it.’

‘Sir, sir!’ Helena dashes into the room, an alarmed expression on her face. ‘There’s something wrong with the room.’

He tilts his head, awareness slowly seeping in, just as the blood seeps out of his face.

Whatever room Helena is speaking about must be something very important, because no sooner had she said that than Mr. Nicholson is on his feet and going up the stairs.

Walking just fine. Without his cane.

I narrow my eyes at his form—oddly athletic for someone so old.

Yet just as that thought creeps into my head, so does something else.

His cane.

Right at that moment, the sun hits the jeweled top of the staff, its brilliance flashing into the entire room.

Placing the teacup to the ground, I get to my feet, slowly advancing towards the precious stone. I no longer feel in control as I put one foot in front of the other, my eyes focused on the prize.

As if possessed, I can’t stop myself from reaching out and grabbing the cane.

The stone shines even brighter, so much so it almost blinds me.

Yet despite that, there’s this unnatural compulsion to touch it—to feel it against my skin.

The stone is a deep green that shines almost blue in the sunlight. And before I can help myself, I cup it with my entire palm.

All at once, my entire body starts spasming, currents of electricity going through me until I no longer feel like myself.

Until…

‘You can buy it, you know,’ he whispers in my ear, his body fitted tightly behind me.

I shake my head lightly as I gaze longingly at the gold necklace with its intricate floral design.

‘I don’t need more jewelry,’ I force myself to say.

‘You can always have more jewelry,’ he chuckles.

‘No,’ I say as I put the necklace down.

‘Gratias tibi agimus,’ I nod to the seller, turning around and grabbing Amon’s hand as I lead him down the bustling street.

Animals are running around freely, with people stopping every now and then to watch them with unabashed amusement.

It’s the fourth day of Ludi Florae, and the celebrations are already in full swing, the rituals taking most of the day—all in an effort to promote fertility of the land.

With this occasion, the streets are cleaner, too, despite the sewer stench that I doubt will ever go away. After all, Rome is Rome, and cleanliness has never been its strong suit.

Even so, it’s been home for so long, I don’t see us leaving any time soon. Not with all the connections we’ve made with people and the land. And certainly not with the wonderful climate and the beautiful Tyrrhenian sea.

The sun is shining brightly in the sky, the smell of trees in bloom intoxicating as petals of flowers are swept away by the gentle breeze.

My fingers tighten on top of Amon’s, a deep sense of satisfaction blossoming in my chest. Especially as I glance up at him, a smile on my lips as I take in his breathtaking features.

So much time has passed, and it still feels like the first time.

His hair is cropped to his ears—the first time it’s ever been so short. After a torturous battle, he’d finally agreed to cut his glorious mane to fit better in society, and he’d allowed me to style his hair in a modern way. Though I miss his long hair, this new style best showcases his strong jaw, sharp cheekbones and his otherworldly eyes.

That isn’t to say I’m the only one noticing his striking looks.

Everywhere we go, the female gaze drifts to him, admiring him appreciatively and sometimes blatantly desiring him.

Rome isn’t a prudish city. Here women take pride in their sexuality and do not shy away from making their intentions clear—as has been the case plenty of times since we’ve relocated to this part of the world.

Despite the fact that I cannot help but be jealous sometimes, I know my Amon. I know the type of male he is and in spite of his legendary reputation as the most savage warrior in the realm, his chief quality is his loyalty.

His unwavering devotion.

From the beginning he’s been mine just like I’ve been his.

Wholly. Irrevocably. Eternally.

Catching me staring, he gives me his signature smile, a dimple appearing in his left cheek. Unable to stop, I raise myself on the tips of my toes, brushing my lips lightly against the small indentation.

‘A public display, my love?’ he arches a brow. ‘Who are you and what have you done with my wife?’ he teases.

‘You know what they say,’ I murmur softly against his skin. ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do,’ I say as I slide my hand suggestively over his pronounced pectorals.

He’s wearing an average Roman garment, just as I am. Nothing too luxurious so as to not draw unwanted attention. But even in the most ordinary garb he exudes pure strength and sensuality.

He chuckles at my words, a rich, deep sound that reverberates in my being. Immediately, though, his gaze turns serious just as it grows heated.

‘Does this mean what I think it means?’ he asks in a thick, husky voice.

I nod slowly, licking my lips as my eyes find his.

‘Damnation,’ he curses, his features growing taut. ‘We need to get home. Now,’ he declares tightly, his voice full of need—one that steadily mounts in my own body.

Just as he’s about to pull me into a darkened corner to avoid being seen, a cart rolls down the street, its driver nowhere to be seen.

Amon tugs me to the side, expertly avoiding the impact. But there’s no one to defend the people running away from its disastrous path.

Screams erupt in the air as everyone tries to duck, or search cover, the cart wreaking havoc in its advance.

‘Do something,’ I whisper, panic growing in my breast as I watch the ensuing mayhem.

Everyone is running for their lives, concerned only with their well-fare. And there are those who cannot fend for themselves.

The…children.

There are two on the ground at the end of the street, one seemingly already injured and unable to move. An old man is by their side, moving slowly—too slowly.

Distressed, I turn to him, pleading him with my eyes.

He purses his lips, and the seconds tick.

I know he doesn’t want to use his powers—has tried not to do so since the last disaster in Asia Minor.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t intervene in human lives, just like I did. After all, we’d been through enough to know that ofttimes, our interference, no matter how helpful, would only be regarded with suspicion and animosity.

Human kind is capable of great kindness. But it’s also capable of the worst atrocities.

Yet at this moment, I can only see the helpless children and their imminent deaths. And as always, I can’t help my traitorous heart.

‘Please help them,’ I whisper.

He hisses in anguish, the dilemma eating at him. For despite his rough and curt manner, my Amon has a heart of gold.

With a wave of his hand, the cart comes to a halt just a few pedes away from the children.

Without waiting for his approval, I hurry forward, only one goal on my mind—to make sure the children are fine.

When the cart stops, the old man curses as he takes one of the children in his arms, leaving the injured one behind.

The boy can’t be more than four or five.

My heart breaks as I see the tears on his ruddy cheeks, the dirt on his clothes and the caked blood on his legs where he’d hurt himself.

‘Shh,’ I drop to my knees in front of him, my hands on his shoulders in an attempt to calm him. ‘It’s fine. You’re alright,’ I coo softly. ‘You’re going to be alright.’

I don’t have to turn to feel Amon behind me, his gaze boring a hole in my back.

‘Sela, don’t,’ he grits his teeth, the command curt.

Whipping my head around, I level him with my gaze.

‘I’m not one of your soldiers, General,’ I tell him resolutely.

Before he can act, I bring my hands over the little boy’s injuries, my palms humming with energy as it transfers into his skin. Slowly, his skin starts melding, his injuries healing in seconds.

When I’m done, only caked blood remains.

‘Where are your parents?’ I ask gently.

He’s still crying, his sobs making it hard for me to understand him. Yet as I lay my hand against his temple, I see the images, identifying his mother within moments.

‘Sela,’ Amon calls my name, his tone firm but apologetic.

I ignore him as I simply gather the little boy in my arms, marching forward and wading my way through the crowd as I focus on his mother. It doesn’t take long for me to locate her. She’s pale, he features torn with worry as she looks right and left—undoubtedly searching for her boy.

‘He’s safe,’ I assure her as I stop in front of her.

Her eyes widen as she takes me in, her hands reaching out to take the child out of my arms.

‘My baby,’ she cries out, scanning him from head to toe. ‘Thank you! Thank you,’ she bows her head to me.

I wave my hand, merely giving her a smile as I turn to leave.

Yet, it only takes a moment for my nightmare to come to fruition.

‘She healed him!’ She yells, and suddenly the crowd stops. ‘She healed my son. She healed his club foot,’ she declares. ‘A goddess among us!’

My breath hitches in alarm as images of the last incident flash through my mind, the mob of angry people, the masses of worship—the unending conflict.

‘I’ve got you,’ a masculine voice murmurs against my hair. His hands around my shoulders, he lays a kiss on my brow as our surroundings change.

In just a second, we’ve left the busy forum only to be back to our domus.

Opening my eyes and noting my surroundings, I step away from him.

My emotions are still raw, and against all attempts to the contrary, my longing bursts through the surface, my heart aching with the hopelessness of the future.

‘Sela, you promised you wouldn’t. We promised we wouldn’t,’ Amon says as he follows me to the peristylium.

Despite the size of our domus, we are the only ones living here.

No servants. No staff. No slaves.

We are quite possibly the only ones to live like this, in spite of our wealth. But it goes beyond the ethical implications of nexum or slavery, both of which are as distasteful to me as they are to Amon. It simply comes down to the fact that if anyone worked or lived with us, we would risk discovery.

Like today.

Like every time we decide to use our powers.

‘You know what happened last time,’ he sighs as he comes behind me.

I swallow hard. I do know, and that is the problem—the constant predicament.

It isn’t my nature to turn a blind eye, yet helping means…potentially getting crucified for it.

‘I can’t help it,’ I whisper, doing my best to keep the pain from my voice. ‘I see them suffering and I just can’t…’ I shake my head.

Columns surround the small garden of the peristylium, colorful sculptures at every corner. Since we’ve moved here, I’ve dedicated my time to growing herbs and other medicinal plants that I then donate to poorer parts of the city.

Another thing that risks our discovery.

Another thing I cannot stop myself from doing.

I march forward to the exedra at the end of the peristylium, a semi-open room that has a direct view of the gardens. The main wall had been encased with a bronze mirror that captures all the activity around.

I have my affinity for gardening, while Amon has his own—watching me.

From the corner of my eye I spot his determined stride as he comes towards me.

‘Sela!’

When he sees I don’t respond, he simply flashes himself in front of me, his hands resting over my shoulders as he gently stops me.

‘Talk to me, Sela,’ he murmurs, his lovely eyes taking me in.

‘You know what we promised,’ he continues, his voice gentle, entirely losing the edge from earlier.

I nod slowly, accepting the blame as mine.

Whenever we end up doing something like this, I’m always the instigator—always the one pushing him.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper.

‘It was the boy, wasn’t it? That’s why you did it.’

I avert my gaze as I give him another nod, unable to find the strength to reply with my words for fear my voice would crack with pain.

‘Ah, Sela,’ Amon rasps, bringing me to his body for a tight hug. ‘I’m so sorry, my love. So, so very sorry,’ he speaks harshly, and I note the same frustration—the same agony—marring his voice, too.

He’s not indifferent. But how could he be?

It’s not something only I have lost. We both did.

‘Do you regret it?’ he inquires softly, his big palms cupping the sides of my face as he draws back to look at me. ‘Do you regret choosing me?’

I shake my head.

‘You know that isn’t something I would ever be able to regret,’ I tell him honestly, though the echoes of pain are still there.

Breaking free of his embrace, I turn to the bronze mirror, gazing at my reflection and his in the back.

‘Do you?’ I pause, fear flickering to life inside of me.

I’ve always considered myself a rational female, just as I’ve always known he was settling by choosing me.

After all, he was Amon. The greatest warrior who ever lived—the most feared one.

Before me, he had a life of glory, his name in the history books, his reputation as awe-striking as it was terrifying.

He was Amon. A legend in itself.

And I was…Sela. Just Sela.

Poor, reclusive Sela.

‘Do you regret meeting me, Amon?’ I wet my lips, my eyes finding his in the mirror. ‘There are so many women in this world. So many who could give you more than I can…’

‘No,’ he states categorically as he comes behind me. ‘How could you ever say something like that, Sela? How could you even think about it?’

A sad smile pulls at my lips.

‘I see the way they watch you—want you,’ I whisper, my insecurities poking through, despite having full confidence in him.

Yet it’s in times like these, when I’m reminded that I’m not whole… That I’m a healer but I cannot heal the most important part of myself. It’s in moments like these that I feel like the greatest failure—like I’m not worthy to breathe the same air he breathes, let alone be his mate.

‘And I would never want them back. There is only you for me. From the first moment I laid eyes on you, Sela, you’ve been the center of my universe. Until you, I thought life and suffering were synonymous.’

His breath fans my skin as he slowly undoes the girdle at my waist before slipping the stola off my body.

The material falls to the ground, leaving me bare in front of the mirror.

His big hands are on my shoulders, slowly caressing me just as his mouth brushes against my neck.

Holding his hand to the side, he materializes an unexpected item in his palm. My eyes grow wide as he gently places the necklace I’d seen at the forum around my neck.

‘Before you I only knew violence. I was born to bloodshed and destruction and I let it shape who I was—I embraced it,’ he kisses my skin as he fastens the necklace around my neck, the metal cold against my feverish flesh.

My breath catches in my throat, goosebumps erupting all over my skin as I react to his proximity and his molten voice, my arousal building as my body becomes primed for his.

‘Before you I was chaos and ruin,’ he continues to speak, hypnotizing me with his voice and squashing all my doubts. ‘Until you showed me the alternative. Until you showed me there was joy to be had in the most mundane moments,’ he rasps, bringing his arms around my waist and holding me tightly to him.

‘How could I want anyone else when I am only because you are? I exist for you just as I exist because of you,’ he breathes harshly against me.

His voice becomes increasingly anguished, the emotions pouring out of him as he holds me so close to his body—as if he’s trying to merge us into one.

Slowly, I bring my hands on top of his, squeezing lightly just as I squeeze my eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.

We’ve come this far, but what about the sacrifices of the past? What about everything we’ve lost, or the harm we’ve caused because of our choice?

‘I love you, Amon,’ I tell him with all the emotion I can muster. ‘I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll continue to love you for as long as my essence lives on.’

Unclasping his hands, I bring one of his palms to my chest, covering my breast as I urge him to feel the beats of my heart and the unsubdued pulsations of my soul—every little flicker of life that is for him and him alone.

‘Sela,’ he groans. ‘My darling Sela,’ he whispers in my ear as his other hand slides down my stomach, his fingers dipping between my legs.

‘Look at us,’ he commands, and my eyes meet his in the mirror. ‘Look how mad I am for you,’ he says as he strokes me lightly, coating his digits in my arousal before slipping one thick finger inside of me. ‘Look how ravenous I am for you and you alone, Sela mina.’

‘Amon…’ I moan loudly, arching into him and rubbing myself against the hard planes of his body.

‘Sela mina, Sela mina,’ he chants as euphoria builds in his veins.

In my veins.

In everything that I am, only for him and with him.

As if burned, I drop the staff from my grasp, taking a step back as I attempt to regulate my erratic breathing.

My pulse is through the roof, my entire body humming with foreign awareness just as liquid pools low between my legs, the arousal I’m feeling an echo of the one from the vision.

Dear God, what was that?

What the hell did I see?

Heavy steps thud down the stairs and I hurry to arrange the cane in the same position Mr. Nicholson had left it before stepping back and resuming my seat on the sofa.

Plastering a big smile on my face, I turn to him, doing my best to seem as normal as possible.

‘I fear I’ve imposed on you for far too long,’ I make the excuse as I rise. ‘I should head back now. I’m sure people are wondering where I am.’

He purses his lips, regarding me suspiciously, and for a moment I wonder if he knows I touched his cane.

‘That is fine, Darcy. I am glad you visited me, and I hope you will do so again.’

‘Of course,’ I nod effusively. ‘Now that I know we are family, how can I not?’ I offer some platitude as I inch my way towards the door.

He nods slowly, pensively.

‘I also hope you will carefully consider what we’ve discussed today and be careful with the Hales. If you ever find yourself in danger, or in need of something, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me.’

‘Thank you,’ I force a smile as I exit his home.

By chance, I spot Mr. Meow on the paved road leading to the main street and taking him in my arms, I pick up the pace.

Helena’s voice echoes through the house as she makes her displeasure known at my sudden departure, but given what I’d just experienced, I can only push forward, needing to be alone in the privacy of my room.

That vision.

That damned vision.

It had been me, under yet another name. With Amon.

But that had not been the most striking thing.

I’d seen my appearance—identical to my current one—and I’d seen my naked flesh in the mirror.

On my body, right above my heart, there had been no birthmark.

At one point in time, I had been Sela—Amon’s wife and lover.

Sela, with no mark, and no destiny of greatness.

I’d been just Sela.

And Amon still loved me.