Warrior Fae Princess - K.F. Breene Page 0,98

the First scoffed. “A custodes needing a vampire’s protection? Ridiculous. We are the protection.”

“Is this like when an old—I mean, out-of-touch person tries to figure out the internet?” Charity grinned. “They just don’t understand things have changed and someone has to explain it?”

Her dad pressed his lips together, which meant he was holding back laughter.

Her grandmother’s eyes flashed fire. “No,” she said, taking a step back. A strange sort of heaviness pressed down upon the room. The desire to stay within this beautiful, natural place intensified. “I forbid it. The Flush is our home. Our people would do well to stay within it. There is nothing for us out there. We are not the royal guard, as the elves would like. We are not another species’ doormat. We are the custodes, and we will decide our fate.”

Music rang in those words. The will behind them tugged on Charity. The hollowness in her middle felt like a vast chasm.

Romulus sighed, his expressiveness not like him.

“You remember when you were away the last time, darling.” The First stepped toward Romulus. “When you were in that tiny cottage in the human lands with that rosy-faced woman. You remember how much you missed it here.”

Confusion stole over Romulus’s expression. The air in the room thickened. The desire to head home, straighten up everything, and settle in for the long haul nearly stole Charity’s breath. It was a feeling she’d never had before. Certainly not in Santa Cruz, and not even where she grew up, where Walt always sullied the definition of home. But here, now, she couldn’t think of living any other place.

She was being manipulated somehow.

“Yes. She did have rosy cheeks, like she was blushing every time she smiled. It was endearing.” His brow furrowed. “I’d nearly forgotten. How did you know that?”

“You talked about her a great deal after you returned.” The First smiled, her condescension ringing loudly. She didn’t much care for Charity’s mom, that was clear. She was human, after all.

The air continued to push down on Charity. The desire to put down deep roots twisted in her middle, nearly as strong as the desire to protect her world, at all costs, from those who would rip it away. From outsiders.

Suddenly it made sense why that woman wouldn’t look at Devon. Why the pack was pushed out to the edges of the community, out of the way. This feeling, which threatened to sweep her away, made that treatment more comfortable. Only one thing kept her head, and it wasn’t her head at all. Devon had left with her heart. He had a place in her soul. No magic could touch that.

“This is false,” Charity said, anger inspiring her stubbornness. She gritted her teeth. “This feeling is false.” She stared accusingly at her grandmama. “Are you doing this? Can guardians create magic that messes with people feelings?”

“No, darling,” Romulus said, confusion still weighing down his features. “That magic is mostly legend. None of my family has had it in many generations. No, what you are feeling is the call of these lands. It is powerful. You’ve been ensnared, as we all have. Mother is right. Maybe—”

Shaking her head, Charity took a step back. It wasn’t these lands. This was magic, it had to be. And given that Charity could tell Romulus was telling the truth, it had to be from the First. But why was she feeling it now and hadn’t before? Surely her grandmama would want to tempt her to push Devon away.

And then it hit her. Like a Mack truck.

“You kept me busy, and away from the shifters, as much as possible,” Charity said to her grandmama. “You hinted at your displeasure at them seeing me in the evenings. That wasn’t because their magic would incite mine—it was because the shifter magic circumvents your magic somehow, doesn’t it? On the battle yard, when Devon blasted his magic out, people awoke as though from a dream. I saw it. People begged to fight them. Begged to bed them. Was that because of sexual taboo or promiscuity, or because they wanted to feel normal? They wanted the fire that the shifter magic allows them to feel?”

“You insolent child—” her grandmama started.

“Devon and I had a magical link. His magic was constantly with me. Constantly protecting me from this…whatever this is. Only now that he’s gone—that his magic is gone from me—do I feel it.” Charity laughed and shook her head. “You’re keeping people here, aren’t you? You’re basically trapping them here

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