Smolder (Crown of Fae #3) - Sharon Ashwood Page 0,38

to vault onto a large blue specimen and use the height to find his quarry. There. Afraid to lose him again, Morran jumped from car to car. That raised a blaring ruckus akin to startled sea monsters.

He barely made it to the other side without losing sight of Fionn. As he leaped off the last vehicle and onto the sidewalk, the black cape swirled around a corner. Morran bolted after him. Humans shouted in protest as the two runners pushed past, sending bystanders reeling.

Fionn was unnaturally fast, no doubt a result of the Shades’ magic. Morran turned down the alley where he’d last seen him, then skidded to a halt. It was a dead end, and it was empty. Cursing, he leaned against the brick wall, coughing as the city’s air burned his throat. He must have made a wrong turn, and his prey was getting away.

Doubt skittered through his mind, followed by an acidic wave of loss. You’re half of what you used to be.

A faint tremor rippled under his feet, shaking the small rocks and bits of detritus coating the alley’s ground. Thunder growled again, as if chiding him for wasting time.

Frustration jittered through Morran as he caught his breath. He’d have to retrace his steps and try again, but time was running out. Soon, more problems would emerge—notably an absence of money and local knowledge, compounded by the suspicions of this world’s occupants. Fae kept themselves hidden in the human realm, and Morran stood out. It wasn’t just his height and not-quite-human features—he moved like a warrior who’d trained with a sword since he could walk. Even humans sensed that kind of difference, and it made them afraid.

Afraid.

The word unleashed an avalanche of memories—Leena’s two-edged gift to him. They infiltrated his mind’s eye, obscuring the world around him.

Morran as a child, following his father through the palace like a faithful puppy.

Terror and revulsion during his first command against a cohort of corrupted fae.

His ascension to the throne of Tymeera, still clad in mourning for his father.

One more image—he sat on horseback at the head of his army. There were so many dead—fae, human, and Shade. Most numerous were dozens of enemy sorcerers sucked dry of their power. Juradoc had squandered his people rather than admit defeat.

The Shades had been trapped between Morran’s forces and the Kelthian tribes for years. Juradoc’s solution had been to tear all life from the southern mountains, one by one, leaving nothing but ash and the rocks beneath. They called that place the Ravaged Lands now. Nothing would grow there—not a single blade of grass.

The fierce, loyal, and utterly wild Kelthian tribes had been forced to flee, losing everything. Morran’s memories stopped there, but one terrible truth was clear—he hadn’t been able to stop the carnage.

Why not? What happened? There were heavy losses, but I had Juradoc on the run.

Then again, maybe he did understand after all.

Behind it all, behind every remembered image, had been the fleeting impression of flight and fire, of the wild, fierce joy of air. The phoenix. Once upon a time, he’d been that wild creature, filled with crackling power and the drive to hunt. Together, they had been invincible—and then there was nothingness.

He had woken to the vision of Leena dancing. She had been his candle in the night, leading him home.

Memories retreated slowly as Morran came back to himself. He’d caught glimpses of his past before this, but never so much at once.

Thunder rumbled, but it was growing fainter now as the magic that fueled it ran its course.

He slumped against the wall, narrowly avoiding the questionable muck sticking to its surface. His head pounded, vague nausea making his mouth water. He was healing, but it was exhausting. Slowly, he straightened, refusing to compound his failure to catch Fionn with public vomiting.

The glass towers piercing the sky glared like accusing eyes. Rivulets of sweat trickled down his temples. He had to pull himself together and act like a prince, a leader of men. Morran sucked in a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever came next.

Something bumped his foot. He looked down into a black, whiskered face. He vaguely recalled Leena grabbing a feline as they’d jumped through the Shimmer, but he’d dismissed it as a particularly odd hallucination.

“What do you want?” Morran asked somewhat gruffly. He’d never been a cat person.

The animal put one dainty paw on his foot. “You shouldn’t have run off like that.”

He was being scolded by a creature no higher than his boot