“There is evil in every realm, Perizada.” Serapha said, completely moving past the fact that she’d just laid a doozy of a revelation on her. Maybe it was for the best that Peri just let the news marinate. Her mind could only take so much, and it was at its breaking point. She set the information aside and focused back on Serapha. “You’ve seen the evil of my kind. You’ve seen the evil of the likes of Ludcarab and those who have come before him. You have also seen those who have stood against them.”

  Peri had heard the words before, from a different voice, but with every bit the same conviction. “But why?” she gritted out through clenched teeth. “Why must anyone sacrifice? Why does the Great Luna allow evil? Why did something so horrible have to happen to your son for Tenia’s son to live? What’s the point of any of this if people we love are just going to keep sacrificing themselves while evil continues to roam the earth?” Three thousand years and Peri had never questioned the goddess. She’d followed faithfully. She’d obeyed even when she didn’t understand. But now, she had doubts. She had fear.

  “Have you ever considered that evil isn’t a ‘thing’? It's not a being like you and me. Instead, it is the absence of good. Evil is not roaming the earth. It is simply present where there is a lack of virtue, morality, and righteousness. And since we know our creator is all of those things, she is not the author of evil. She doesn’t make evil. It is our choices that make evil exist. It is the gift of free will that allows us to have the world we do. And though that world contains evil, it holds many amazing and wonderful things as well.” Serapha looked over the landscape. “Our choices, every day, big and small, help bring more good into our realms, where before there was an absence of it. That is your purpose. That is why sacrifices must happen.”

  Peri swallowed hard. The words rang true, and she knew the draheim was right. But under the weight of her heartache, she found it hard to have faith in what she knew to be true.

  The large, white draheim shifted, causing the ground to tremble. She seemed to be settling in as she curled her front legs beneath her and lowered her body. The dragon didn’t speak. She didn’t answer any of Peri’s questions.

  “What are you doing?” Peri asked.

  “I’m being still,” Serapha answered. “Just as you need to be still. Come, sit.” The beast motioned with her head for Peri to sit next to her.

  Peri’s hands fisted at her sides. “I don’t want to be still. I want to understand. What did you mean that it wasn’t the first time I’d been saved by one of yours?”

  Serapha shook her head. “It is not time for that answer. For now, you will have to accept that it is not your decision when your life is over. For now, it is time to let go, just for a while, and be still.”

  Peri sighed. What else did she have to do? She walked over and sat down beside the huge draheim. Serapha leaned her big head down and nudged Peri with her snout, pulling her closer until the fae was pressed against her chest just in front of her front leg. The draheim's body heat warmed Peri immediately. Her stiff body relaxed, and Peri found herself leaning back until her head rested against Serapha as well.

  “We’re just going to sit here?”

  Serapha’s large head rested on the ground, and the breath that came out of her nose rustled the grass. “We’re just going to sit here. Close your eyes, Perizada of the fae. Ask your questions in your mind. Humble yourself before your creator. Open your heart, bare your soul to your creator, though she already knows you inside and out. Bare your soul because you want to be in communion with the Great Luna. And then be ready and willing to receive those answers.”

  Peri had no fight left in her. She had no idea what she was supposed to do. So, she did as the draheim said and closed her eyes.

  Chapter

  Six

  “Evil comes in many forms. It masquerades as something beautiful, desirable, and even necessary. It makes me wonder: If evil can trick us, can goodness do the same? Can those things that look evil actually be good? Perhaps something sinister can be transformed into something of value, something helpful? Or is it as I’ve feared? Are we who’ve given ourselves over to evil forever forced to wear the scars from the corruption that has infected us? Can we ever be beautiful again?

  ~Skender

  * * *

  Tenia’s lifeless hand was cold, though Skender could still hear his mate’s heart beating. The sound was faint, but it meant life. Skender didn’t dare stop touching her for longer than a few minutes for fear she would slip away, and he wouldn’t be connected to her when it happened. And when it did happen, he knew he and Torion would be without her. He wished that they’d already performed the Blood Rites. Then he could make that trek with her. Skender shook his head. No. That’s a selfish thought. If he was gone, Torion would be unprotected. He wouldn’t leave the boy … ever. Selfishness had caused him to make some very poor decisions in that past. Decisions he was going to have to live with. But those days were over. Skender didn’t know how long he had left, but he would spend the time watching over Tenia for as long as he could. Then, if it was his destiny that she leave this life, Skender would watch over her son for as long as either of them drew breath.

  “Will you tell me more of the story?” Torion sat down across from Skender on the other side of Tenia. Three days had passed since Peri had left them. Three days since Torion had returned with tears in his eyes because the boy did not know how to help the high fae. Torion wouldn’t say why, but he was absolutely determined the fae had to stay alive.

  Skender ran a finger across Tenia’s forehead and down the bridge of her nose. He loved touching her. His wolf craved it. He wanted to wrap himself around her and never let her go. It was a liberty he didn’t deserve, but he still ached for. Skender took a deep breath and steeled himself for the words that needed to be said, the story that Torion needed to hear. Skender could not bear to allow this child—the son he’d claimed as his own—to believe lies about him. Torion believed Skender was a hero. He’d told Skender he wanted to be a warrior just like him. The wolf quickly learned that there were few pains as great as having to tell your child you're not the unblemished paragon of virtue they’ve built you up to be. Painful was an understatement. Skewering himself with a hot poker in the heart would be more bearable than seeing the adoration fade from Torion’s eyes. It had to be done, and the information needed to come from him.

  But Skender wasn’t yet ready to face his demons. Up until now, he’d been telling Torion the story as if the events had occurred to someone else. Skender was merely the narrator, rather than the hero … or villain, to put it more accurately. He was working up toward the reveal that would forever change the way Torion looked at him.

  “I will tell you more,” Skender finally answered. “Where were we?”

  “The boy's parents had just died, killed by rogue werewolves,” Torion reminded him.

  Skender nodded. “That’s right. The Order informed the boy that his parents had been attacked by rogue wolves, but that he wasn’t safe with them. The boy needed the protection of a strong pack, a powerful alpha. But the alpha couldn’t know that the boy’s family had been a part of the Order or he might not accept the orphan into his pack. It had to be a secret.”

  “Because the Order was bad?” Torion asked, his lips drawn tight across his face and his hands clenched into little fists.

  Skender let out a heavy sigh. “The boy’s parents didn’t think so, and the boy believed and trusted his parents. When he was told to keep his membership in the Order a secret at all costs, the boy took the words to heart and never spoke of that part of his life again.” Skender’s mind rewound to that day—the day he’d been dropped off a couple of miles from the Romanian pack mansion. He’d been terrified that he would somehow give himself away, and they would kill him. The Order had told him that the Romanian pack alpha was ruthless, showing no mercy to his enemies. But they’d also said he was powerful, perhaps the most powerful of all alphas, and would keep Skender safe from the rogues. The child didn’t understand why his safety was so important to the Order. Who was he? Just a werewolf orphan. But he’d been told by the leaders of the Order that they would have a task for him one day. When that day came, he would need to be ready. His task would be very important, and when the time came, he would know what that task was. If he’d known then what he knew now, he would have run far, far away from the Order and the Romanian pack. He would have refused to bring such evil anywhere near Vasile’s pack—the pack that had accepted, welcomed, and loved him.

  “What happened when the boy got to the Romanian pack? Did they know he was from the Order? Did they kill him?”

  Skender smirked. “The boy was terrified. He was left on the steps of a giant mansion, all alone, and too afraid even to cry out. But he was soon surprised by the alpha pair. Instead of attacking the child, they welcomed him with open arms. The boy had been expecting the alpha to be the monster that the Order had described, but that wasn’t the case at all.”

  To this day, Skender remembered the way Alina had looked at him with such compassion.

  After several long minutes of standing, his knees quaking almost to the point of buckling, Skender gathered the courage to knock on the wooden door to the large stone house. His entire body began to tremble, and he fought the urge to turn and bolt for the woods. But the forest surrounding him was dark. He had no idea how he had gotten there or where he would go. He couldn’t have made it back to find the Order if he wanted to. So, with tears in his eyes, he waited. The entire house, even the surrounding forest, seemed to be holding its breath, and Skender along with them. What would happen? If this alpha was as fierce as Skender had been told, he might just transform into a wolf and gobble him up on sight. Or they might carry him out into the forest and leave him. The night was cold, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to survive on his own.

  The seconds Skender waited seemed to go on forever. Finally, just when Skender was about to knock again, or perhaps cry out, one of the huge, oaken double doors creaked open. Standing in the doorway was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Instantly, Skender understood that this woman’s beauty wasn’t merely skin deep. Somehow, he sensed that she was a mother, perhaps not to a child of her own, but to an entire pack. To any who might be helpless, who might need the love and tender compassion that only a mother could provide. At that time, however, he wouldn't have been able to put any of that into words. He only knew he felt peace—a peace he hadn’t felt since his parents had been killed.

  The woman was looking over him as she’d obviously been expecting the visitor to be an adult. Then she lowered her head, and her gaze settled on Skender. Her face softened, and her eyes filled with a compassion he’d seen in his own mother’s eyes many times when she’d looked at him.

  “My name is Alina. What has happened to you child?” Skender knew he looked rough, but as he couldn't really see himself without a mirror, he had no idea how rough. His clothes were filthy, and his face and hands were covered in dirt. The leader of the Order had told Skender that he had to look the part of a child in need, and so they'd made sure to dress him up as if he'd been through a terrible ordeal and had wandered on his own.

  “My parents were killed by rogues,” Skender told her. “I’ve been looking for a pack. I didn’t know what else to do.” His voice shook, and that part wasn’t an act. Despite the peace and compassion he felt coming from this woman, he was still terrified. The stories told by the Order of the great and terrible Vasile still stuck in his mind. But more than that, he missed his family. He missed all that was familiar to him. Above all, he wanted his mother.

  A large man walked up to stand next to Alina. His face was stern, his gaze assessing as he stared down at Skender. For a moment, he said nothing. The longer they looked at one another in silence, the more Skender's previous fears intensified. His shaking legs, which had stilled under the compassionate gaze of Alina, began to tremble again. It felt like forever until the man finally spoke.

  “I am Vasile, alpha of the Romanian pack, and you have met my mate.” He motioned to Alina and wrapped an arm around her, settling his hand on her waist. “Come in, young one, and get out of the cold.” Vasile and his mate stepped aside at the same time as if they were one body sharing the same mind. His parents had moved that way. True mates. A bond that was unlike anything else between supernaturals. His parents had often told him the story of true mates and how one day he would meet his own.

  Skender lifted his leg to take a step and paused awkwardly before finally stepping inside. His fate was now in their hands. There was no longer a chance to run. No possibility of escape. For better or worse, his life from here on out was tied to the Romanians.

  “What were they like?” Torion asked, his voice pulling Skender from the decades-old memory. The fae boy leaned closer, his eyes wide, waiting for Skender to continue.

  “They were kind,” Skender answered. “For a long time, the boy didn’t trust their kindness. He thought it was an act, a facade. It’s hard to know what to believe when someone you trust has told you something about someone else you don’t know. The child's natural inclination was to believe the Order because they were the only thing he knew.” Skender paused and ran his fingers through Tenia’s hair and took a deep breath. Her scent washed over him, and his wolf rumbled in contentment. “Over time, the boy realized the kindness of the alpha pair was genuine. Vasile and Alina loved their pack. They looked out for the well-being of those under their care, including the boy. It wasn’t something he’d ever seen in the Order. As the boy grew up, his memories of the Order began to fade. Eventually, all he knew was that he was a part of the Romanian pack, and he always had been and always would be.”

  Torion frowned. “How could he just lose his memories like that? What about the memory of his parents? Did he lose those as well?”

  It was a question Skender had asked himself many times. Why did he forget, and why had he suddenly remembered? It was the reason he’d left the Romanian pack and told Vasile he needed to look for his mate. That part had been true. He’d felt the pull of his mate. But the rest of the memories he didn’t share with his alpha. Partly because he was ashamed that he’d ever been a part of the Order. But another part of him felt a strong need to keep it a secret. There was a part of him that he hadn’t known existed that was loyal to the Order because his parents had been loyal.

  “I don’t know,” Skender admitted.

  “It sounds like a spell of some kind,” Torion said absently. He reached for his mother’s hand and held it tightly in his own. “It would have had to have been cast by someone powerful. A fae or a djinn.” Torion paused. “Or a witch. Were there still witches around back then?”

  Skender’s eyes snapped to Torion’s face, but the boy was looking at Tenia. Torion didn’t see the surprise that Skender knew must have been in his eyes. He’d never considered that he might have had magic used on him. But what else would explain the memory loss and then the sudden return of them a century or more later? His mind jumped back to a time he’d rather not remember, but one that was forever burned into his mind. Alston had captured the healer, Sally, and performed a memory spell on her. At the time, Skender felt uneasy about what they were doing because he knew Sally was the true mate of his packmate, Costin. But Skender did nothing to stop the Order. There was something inside of him pushing him to do whatever was necessary to see the Order succeed. He’d been convinced that the supernaturals of the world shouldn’t have to live in secret. “I was such a fool,” he murmured as he threaded his fingers through Tenia’s hand. He felt tears welling up in his eyes, tears he didn’t deserve to cry because the pain he felt had been of his own making. No one had held a gun to his head and made him cooperate with the Order.

  “You can tell me more later,” Torion said gently.

  “I would be interested to hear more of this story as well,” Peri’s voice said from the entrance of the cave.

  Skender glanced over at her. The high fae’s face held an expression of interest, but her eyes were narrowed dangerously. He wondered if she would have already killed him if Tenia wasn't his true mate. Yes, of course, she would have, and with a smile on her face while she did it.

  He gave her a knowing look, then bowed his head, acknowledging her request. Then she flashed and was gone again, leaving him and Torion to watch and wait for Tenia to wake up.

  We shouldn’t be allowed to exist. Tenia had come to the conclusion over the past few weeks as she sat languishing on a bench in the middle of a lush forest. She knew the bench and the forest weren't real. She knew they only existed in her mind because she could feel her body, but she couldn’t move. She could hear her son’s voice, and Skender’s, but she couldn’t respond. Her eyes wouldn’t open no matter how many times she commanded them to. She was stuck.

  The last thing she remembered was being engulfed by the cold fire. Tenia had been sure her life was over. In her thoughts, she’d told Torion and Skender goodbye. She’d mourned the life she would never have. She had no idea how much time had passed when she found herself awake in the forest. Awake wasn't the correct word. She was aware but not awake. The forest looked very similar to the one in the fae realm. The colors were more vivid than those in the human realm, and the scents were stronger. But the magic of the realm felt weak, and she wondered why.

  In her unconscious-yet-aware state, Tenia had listened to the story Skender had been telling her son. Slowly, the pieces were beginning to fit together. Torion was correct. The only thing that could have affected Skender’s memories was magic. And if it made him turn on the people he’d grown to love and trust, it had been extremely dark magic. This was what had convinced her that the world would be better off without supernaturals in it.