Fires of War (War and Deceit #4) - Erin O'Kane Page 0,135

my warrior elf as he steps forward. “Do you not remember the battle before? They do not feel pain. You can bet that the queen will have more up her sleeve than a dozen forsaken.”

Ragnar gets over his shock and steps around the table, his eyes flashing with indignation. “How dare—”

Something pushes at my awareness, making me tune the rest of the conversation out. I’ve heard it all before anyway, but whatever is trying to get my attention is old. Extending my consciousness, I look up and into the distance where I feel the pull. Whoever this is, they want to speak to me.

Without fully realising what I’m doing, I stand, my cup falling to the ground as I follow the pull. Some part of my mind is aware of my mates calling my name and their bonds aching in my chest, but I don’t feel any danger or like I’m under any spell like I was with the forest witch last time I was in these woods.

“I’m okay, I’m just concentrating,” I assure them, my voice a whisper. I pause as I lose the connection with the being. Reassured, they fall silent and simply follow behind me as I stretch my awareness once more and try to find the creature. It’s something of the forest, some sort of fae but more elemental, which is why I can sense it. Like the imps and pixies, it has a mind of its own, so it’s harder to read than the forest.

I’ve ventured far away from everyone now and can hear the sound of a river. As I round a large tree trunk, it comes into view. So does the creature.

She’s the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen, and at first, I think she’s an elf, her pointed ears poking through her silky hair. She sits on the bank of the river. Her upper body is completely naked, and her lower body is hidden by the water. Raising her head, she looks my way, locking her startling green eyes with mine. Her pixie-like features and rosy red lips are inviting. Everything about her screams innocence, but my instincts tell me she’s dangerous.

Eldrin and Vaeril spot her at the same time, hissing as they jump in front of me, blocking my route to the fae, their eyes wide with alarm as they watch my face for…something. Frowning, I try to push past them, not understanding their reaction. If they feared an attack from her, then they would be in a defensive position, instead, they are blocking my path. Pausing, I cross my arms over my chest and arch an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

“That’s a nixie, Clarissa.” Vaeril’s brow furrows as if he’s confused by the way I’m reacting, but he doesn’t step aside. Reaching out, he cups my face, drawing my chin up and staring into my eyes as if checking for something. “A type of river mermaid, she will charm you and pull you to your death.”

Eldrin bristles, snarling over his shoulder at the nixie as he steps closer to me. “They are dangerous, you must stay away.”

Now I understand their behaviour. Jumping in front of me, blocking my path, checking my eyes—they believed I was bewitched when I was following her pull. They were trying to protect me. My love for them grows a little more, and from the gleam in their eyes, they can sense that through our connection. All of this tells me something else though.

Leaning around Vaeril, I address the nixie. “You could have bewitched me, but you didn’t.” She looks up from where she was examining her nails, her striking green eyes locking with mine again, and I’m momentarily stunned. She tilts her head to one side before dipping it in agreement. Yes, she could have spelled me and pulled me to a watery death, but she chose not to. So I ask her the most important question. “Why?”

She glances at the backs of the two elves separating us before returning her gaze to me. “I wished to talk with you, beloved.” Her voice is unlike anything I’ve ever heard before, lilting and lyrical. I’ve heard stories of sirens luring people to their death, and I wonder if the nixies are a relation, because I can imagine that voice inspiring people to do things they usually wouldn’t.

Her meaning is clear though. Looking at my two elves, I raise my eyebrow, waiting for them to let me pass. She’s called me here, so it must be important,