Marked (The Coldest Fae Book 3) by Katerina Martinez (novel24 .txt) 📗

“Wait? For what?” Toross asked.

“I don’t know… until tomorrow?”

“No. I want you to come with me now. I will bring you back here when we’re done.”

The Prince placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Without having to look at him or consult with him, I knew what he’d meant with it. I’m okay, go and do this thing. He obviously had faith that he could control Radulf while I was gone. Maybe it had something to do with what we’d done earlier?

I had a hunch that it wasn’t my scent that kept Radulf at bay, but our link. Today we’d crossed a threshold and strengthened that link, and maybe that was enough for now, at least. Either way, it didn’t look like Toross was going to leave this alone, so I decided to nod and go with him.

I gave the Prince a final look as I left the tent. He nodded, and then I was gone, following Toross through the camp of the moon children. It was the middle of the afternoon, so the place was alive with life, and movement. There was laughter, people talking, food being prepared, clothes being washed and hung on clothing lines scattered throughout the place.

I thought Toross was going to take me to the main tent, to bring me before the Alpha, but we went around it altogether, following a small road leading away from the tents and into a quiet, slightly wooded, very peaceful place.

The sunlight broke through leaves overhead in streaks, casting light along the path we were following. Unlike the rest of the village, there was snow beneath my feet and collecting around the base of the trees, but from that snow there were flowers blooming.

They were everywhere. Turquoise, lilac, and pale blue, flowers that were as tall as my knees and blooming despite the dimness, and the snow. It smelled like a garden out here; a cold, frosty garden, but a garden nonetheless.

At the end of the path was a tree, the tallest and thickest of the miniature woods we’d entered. It was surrounded by a halo of flowers of all shapes and sizes, made brighter by the way the sun shone on the flowerbed. As I approached, the flowers very slowly turned to face me, moving in unison as if to greet me.

It smelled wonderful here.

Safe.

Home.

“What is this place?” I finally asked.

“This was your mother’s garden,” Toross said as he approached the flowers around the base of the tree. He knelt and plucked one, then handed it over. It looked like a rose, but it was pale purple. Frozen droplets clung to its many petals. I sniffed it, and it was like no Earth flower I had ever smelled. Bright, flowery, and fresh.

“My mother’s…” I said.

“She loved this place,” he said, “I have tended to it ever since… well.” He didn’t need to continue. We both knew what he meant.

I looked around. “It’s beautiful here. So quiet. You can’t hear the village.”

Toross nodded. “It’s the trees. They keep the sound out. This is a place where you can mediate, reflect, be with your thoughts. I come here often.”

“It smells like her,” I said. “I mean, it’s weird. I don’t know what she smells like, but… is that weird?”

“I don’t think so. I smell her too. It brings me comfort to believe that a part of her still lingers in this place.”

“You mean her ghost?”

“No… perhaps. It’s difficult to tell. What I have to show you, however, is this.”

Toross moved a little closer to the tree at the heart of this little glen, careful not to step on any of the flowers as he went. Kneeling down, he reached into the flowers and pulled out a long, thin, black box, dusted over with snow. He brushed some of the snow off the top, then moved away from the bed of flowers and handed it over to me.

It was sturdy in my hand, and clearly handmade, but it was gorgeous. Smooth, dark, carefully filed, and covered with an intricate design that had been carved into it. I ran my fingertips across it, and a strange current fed back into my hands, like the box was charged with electricity.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Open it,” Toross said.

I searched for a clip and found it. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected to find inside, but an ornate, curved dagger wasn’t on the list. A turquoise gem embedded into the small crossguard gleamed when the light touched it. The blade itself was sharp, and pointed, though its shape was a little different than what I was used to.

It kind of looked like a “Fang,” I said, suddenly.

Toross nodded. “That was what your mother called it. It was hers.”

“This was her dagger…” I trailed off.

“Your father made the blade and locked the gemstone into place, she made the handle and used the dagger to defeat her enemies… and channel her magic.”

I looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Her magic was powerful. Raw. She had trouble controlling it. This helped.”

I remembered my time in the aviary, how my power had manifested in a powerful explosion that shattered the structure. I hadn’t been able to do that again. I didn’t even know how. But maybe with this…

“Why have you given this to me?” I asked.

“She would have wanted you to have it,” he said, “You should have it.”

“I don’t think—”

“—it’s yours, Dahlia. It was meant to be yours. Take it.”

I looked down at the dagger I had almost been too nervous to touch. My heart started thumping, adrenaline coursing through me. Carefully, I reached into the box, picked the dagger up, and gripped it tightly in my hand… then it happened.

A surge of power rushed through me, filling me, erupting from me in a powerful shockwave that sent even Toross to the ground. My entire body vibrated as pure energy coursed through me. I wanted to scream, it was too much to handle, but when I tipped my head back