Fatal Alignment Ch 01

Hi friends! I'm still working on Ivy and Hunter's story, so don't worry, I'm not abandoning them! I had too many ideas to keep this under wraps, so I had to start it. This is a continuation of The Seeker, and it follows Laiyla and Venlen's daughter. If you haven't read the Seeker, that's fine. You'll miss a few references, but it's no big deal.

I'm always nervous about starting a new story, so please be honest with your feedback. You guys help me shape the story, and I appreciate all the comments, even the mean ones! I'm tough, I can take it.

As always, this chapter's soundtrack is listed below. I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter, it was a fun one to write! Thank you for reading!

Me Against The Devil by The Relentless

Save Yourself by My Darkest Days

Voodoo by Godsmack

Plastic Heart by Nostalghia, Tyler Bates, Joel J. Richard

...................................................................

Ten years ago

"Do you feel that, RI?"

Adrika twisted her lips, eyebrows drawn together in effort as she tried to reach for what the fingers of her mind had just barely grazed over moments before. She panted, small fists curled into tight balls as she concentrated harder, reaching further, straining to get back to the place her mother was trying so hard to lead her to.

"Breathe, Riri. Relax. Fill yourself with the Green, and then try again."

She pouted her lips and exhaled loudly, shivering when silky tendrils of her hair lifted and swayed against her face. She breathed in, inhaling the crisp, sharp scents of falling leaves and burning wood, the scents that came with her favorite time of the year. Autumn in their little corner of the world was better than anything else in the universe, except maybe for Sonya's tomato-basil-honey soup by the fire on cold winter nights. She licked her lips at the thought, her tummy rumbling gently, reminding her that it had been a long afternoon of swimming and playing and practicing. She was looking forward to dinner tonight.

For more than one reason.

"Focus, Riri," her mother's voice sang, and she sighed, peeking out of a squinted eye to where her mother sat across from her on the willow stone, her stoic, stunning face lifted in quiet tranquility up to the afternoon sky. Her mother's long braid cascaded down her straightened spine, all the way down so that the twisted end skimmed over the smooth grey surface they sat on in the gentle breeze. Her mother was the most beautiful woman she had ever known, and not just on the outside. Every day, Adrika and Laiyla had been coming out to this stone for an hour at sunrise and sunset to practice with the Green. The Green was helping her to see people differently. More and more, she was catching short but important glimpses into people's souls.

Adrika knew that what her and her mother called the

Green

was really just Magic. But she had never used that word for it, for some reason. To her, the energy she had learned to gather up around her, swirl in through her lungs and fingertips and the arches of her feet, and expel out into the world in order to connect with all of the things the Green touched, was just that: Pure, shimmering, iridescent, blindingly beautiful

Green.

Now souls. Souls were the

real

magic. Souls were... Rapture. Every one as different to feel and touch and see as one of the rare and striking trinkets her father brought back with him after coming home from his travels. Gems and pebbles and jagged arrows, or sometimes a fallen feather or washed up shell, imperfect from the wash of distant oceans but all the more beautiful for it.

Souls were fractured, and serrated, and deformed, and sinister. They were vile and sordid, and they cast a palette of deep colored hues across her mind when she peeked into the shadowed areas some kept hidden so deep down you would drown if you reached far enough, and others kept cracked open wide, shadows hunting down other shadows. But they were also radiant and sublime, resplendent and sacred. And the best part was, they were all those things, in everyone.

Not a single soul consisted entirely of darkness and shadows. Just as no single soul was pure and bright with no places to hide.

As to all things, or so her mother said, there was always a balance. Light and dark. Day and night. Life and death.

Love and hate.

If there was too much darkness in one soul, there always seemed to be a bright soul nearby to balance the scales.

Her mother sighed, but it wasn't a sound of exasperation. It was a sound of patience, of settling in. Her mother said that Adrika's mind liked to wander farther and faster than she could catch up with it, and one of these days, it would wander all the way to the Southern Kingdoms and wouldn't come back until it fell off the edge of the world and circled back around. It always made her giggle. Today, though, the thought made her wince.

Her father and Uncle Amlen had come home today. And while she delighted in his return, she had caught a glimpse of something that had filled her veins with ice and had made her stomach clench with fear. Not that she had seen quite enough to even understand what it was that had put her so on edge. Her mother had taught her how to peer into souls without reaching directly into minds. Kind of like looking through a window without watching the people inside. It was difficult, but not impossible. The only person she practiced on was her mother. Her mother said she knew a secret way of locking things up, something she would learn some day soon. So Adrika could look into her mind without invading her privacy.

But recently, something strange had started to happen. Without meaning to, she had found herself caught up in people's thoughts. Only, it wasn't that she had reached into them.

It was like

they

had reached out into

her

mind. Like Their thoughts had peeled themselves away and drifted through the air, and she would just, walk into one. All of a sudden. Without warning.

Like this morning. When she had run to her father, giggling breathlessly when she was hoisted into his strong arms and spun around, reached out to touch the silver leaf pendant hanging from around his neck, and then...

She shuddered, opening her eyes and surrendering to the wild trail of thoughts threatening to take her away from the task at hand. "I can't get it back, mamma. Can we try again tomorrow?"

Her mother lowered her chin, the viridian green of her irises peeking out from behind dark, thick lashes as she peered across the willow rock. Silken fingers danced across her cheek, brushing loose strands of hair behind her ear, and Adrika smiled, leaning into her warm touch. "Rika," her mother breathed, her voice like the gentle babble of a brook. "

Keonai Vey.

What is fear's balance?"

Keonai Vey.

Little Moon.

Adrika frowned. "Fear's balance is courage."

Her mother smiled and nodded. "And can one exist without the other?" she asked, tilting her head just slightly to the left, her thick braid lightly jostled in the movement. Adrika shook her head. "No. One

relies

on the other. Fear is nothing without courage, just as courage is nothing without fear."

Her mother smiled again. "That fear you're feeling right now,

Keonai Vey

? The one you do not understand?"

Adrika nodded, urging her mother to continue.

"That's your courage, growing up strong. Never forget that, Ri. All the darkness you feel inside here," she raised a finger to her temple, "feeds life into something vital and beautiful, right here," she finished, pressing her palm above her heart. "Just be sure you are using the bad to feed the good, and not the other way around." Her mother winked. "Now come," she chirped, holding out her hand as she uncrossed her legs and began to inch toward the edge of the willow stone. "I think Patrick and Braelen are here."

Adrika grinned and reached out, closing her small fingers around her mother's hand, allowing the warm, pearlescent light of her mother's energy to wrap around her wrist and seep into her skin. Together, they walked into their little cabin in their own little corner of the world, shadowed thoughts and dark visions rolling to the ground like raindrops with each step.

Visions of her father's hands drenched in blood.

................

Present

Ri! Come back NOW!

Despite the urgency she felt behind her mother's words, Adrika giggled breathlessly and continued down the dirt path that lead to the small stone jetty a couple of miles away from the cabin. She had plans to spend the day with Patrick, and she may or may not have thwarted her parent's attempts at keeping her indoors during this particularly chilly autumn day. Cognizant of her father's men hot on her trail, she navigated the rocky ground flawlessly, dancing across the rooted ground like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Eventually, the guards her father seemed obsessed with keeping around her at all times began to slow and tire, and by the time she made it to the little stone outcropping by the side of the lake, she had all but left them in the dust. She had no doubt they would find her soon, but it wouldn't take her and Patrick very long to make the short swim out to the little island where her best friend had promised to throw her a special birthday picnic.

She couldn't wait. Although almost nine years her senior, Patrick had been her best friend since she had been old enough to walk. At five years old, she had brought him a bunch of lavender and, with a deadly serious expression on her little face, had proposed to him in marriage. Patrick had gracefully taken the aromatic bundle from her and clasped her little hand in his much larger, boyish one. "When you're old enough, Ri, you won't want to marry me. But if you do, it'll be my turn to ask you."

Adrika blushed at the memory, the wind nipping at her cheeks doing nothing to calm the angry red splotches across her honeyed skin. He had been fourteen years old, and some of the village boys had fallen over themselves, laughing at her youthful antics. He easily could have broken her heart by laughing along and dismissing her altogether, but instead, he had been kind, and thoughtful, and serious.

Well, she was older now. And she still very much wanted to marry the older, handsome boy. Like her mother, she was an impossibly short Fae, even for a halfling, and his slim, athletic frame towered over her by almost a full head. His dark skin was offset by startling, glacier blue eyes, and the hard lines of his jaw was softened somewhat by his full, sensuous lips. To Adrika's fiercely jealous dismay, her childhood idol had quickly become insanely popular among the girls of the village, but he had yet to settle down with any of them, although he dated often.

But today, he had told her he had something important to talk to her about, and he was throwing her a special birthday picnic in their special, secret place. Butterflies fluttered their wings irritatingly incessantly inside her belly as she reached the stone jetty and burst through the tree line, the net she effortlessly towed behind her alerting her that her father's men were no longer anywhere close behind her. Seeing a dark figure crouched by the edge of the water halfway across the jetty, she rushed forward. "Hey!" she called out, "We should hurry, my parents are --"

She stopped short, her feet skidding across the smooth surface of an especially large rock, her breath catching in her throat, as an unfamiliar man unfolded up into an intimidating height in front of her. It wasn't the first time she had run into strangers out here. The jetty wasn't unknown, especially among the village sweethearts looking for a private place to whisper sweet nothings to each other. But as her dark, emerald-flecked eyes drank in the sight of the imposing form currently blocking her way, she felt a horrible sense of foreboding and knew that every inch of this broadly shouldered, heavily muscled male was dangerous, perhaps deadly. Maybe even more so than her own, widely-feared father.

The man, and it was a

man

, not a Fae like her mother, or a Dwarf or Elf or halfling like her and Sonya, had dirty blonde hair that was cut in an almost militaristically short style. His eyes were the oddest color she had ever seen, a light color that almost looked

lavender

. A distant part of her mind registered a warning she had heard about pink and lavender eyes, but it was overshadowed by her examination of the rest of his strangely handsome face. A large, ugly scar ran along one sharply defined cheekbone, a disfigurement that should have detracted from his attractiveness but somehow added to it instead. His full, severe lips were parted and curved up in a malicious smile as he watched her take him in. Her face, already red from the exertion of her run, flushed deeper, even as ice ran through her veins and settled like a heavy weight on her chest.

"Sorry," she mumbled, "I thought you were someone else."

"Patrick." His voice was deep and melodic and sent a shiver up and down her rigidly straightened spine. The name was a statement, the implications of which were terrible and impossible, and an invisible hand gripped her throat and constricted her airway. His smile deepened at the look of horror on her heart shaped face. She struggled to find her voice, her mind struggling to make sense of her best friend's name on this stranger's lips.

"Who are you?" she croaked, and found herself crouched into a defensive stance, her hand itching and already seeking out her mother's dagger of its own accord. She had to get out of here, she had to find Patrick before it was too late. If her father's men weren't too far behind, she could backtrack enough to get to them and --

"We have a lot to discuss, Adrika," the man murmured lazily, his strangely colored eyes dropping to her mouth. "We'll talk on the way. Come." The man had the audacity to hold out a massive hand, and Adrika noticed another thick scar cutting across his palm.

Adrika snarled at the proffered appendage and took a step back. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she hissed. "Where's Patrick?

Who are you?"

The stranger chuckled. "My name is Killian. Patrick is safe... For now."

Icy fire flicked at her skin, understanding buried so close to the surface she could almost touch it. "For now?" she asked tentatively, just as an awful, dread-inducing whirring sound came from behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a large, dark creature, crouched on all fours, ready to pounce.

Killian's smile deepened. His nearly-lavender eyes darkened. Understanding slammed into her. The creature stepped closer. Adrika stood frozen, white hot terror ripping through to her core.

She knew who this man was. She had heard her father talk angrily about him to her uncle Amlen.

This was Prince Killian, Kill for short. Dark rumors claimed the man lived up to his name with deadly accuracy. Eldest son of King Jax, heir to the throne of Karmora.

Land of the South. Home of the dark creatures.

Prevaria's greatest enemy.

Adrika's palm curled around the hilt of her mother's dagger. Her defensive crouch deepened, eyes hardened, jaw set.

Ready to die, the halfling pounced.

....................

Fucking adorable.

Kill was nothing, if not a fair man, and fair men gave credit where credit was due. Venlen might be the absolute scourge of the earth, but he had certainly made a fetching little heiress, hadn't he? Delicate features; viridian-speckled eyes the color of midnight; silky, jet black hair; full, pouty lips set in a heart shaped face; dark honeyed skin. All of it wrapped up in a tight little body, just bursting with all that pure, sweet, innocent, young light.

She was a blank canvass, this little one. And he would be the one to color her in ruin.

"For now?" her little voice squeaked. He dragged his eyes back up to her face, wanting to see it. The moment when it all clicked for her. The Mortolf's whirring machinations drew her attention momentarily, and he caught another brief glimpse of the curves she was hiding behind those loose, billowy clothes she was wearing. For fuck's sake. Did Venlen have no fucking pride in what was his? He expected her to be wrapped in a gown of gossamer and silk, priceless diamonds and jewels dripping from her tender flesh, not running around like some breathless village ruffian.

She slowly swung back to face him, brows furrowed in confusion. It would come to her in three.... Two....

She stilled, the rise and fall of her chest stalling on a quick intake of breath.

One.

Her eyes shot up to his, wide with clarity and understanding. And there, written into the soft lines of her face, was everything he had been waiting for.

Shock. Fear. Anger. Dread.

His breath stilled with hers as he watched. There, right there, behind those dark, innocent eyes. The thing that made his blood thicken and his heart race. The thing he hadn't really expected to find but had hoped to anyway.

Fight.

Fucking exquisite.

A low, feminine growl tore from her chest as she crouched down, her hand clutching something at her side. Killian took a deep breath, centering himself. His intel, while obviously omitting wardrobe preferences of the little Princess, offered up detailed reports of her little homeschooling curriculum. Venlen certainly seemed dedicated to having her well trained, both physically and mentally, and her

mother

was practically desperate to see her wed and mated to the village Fae boy as soon as they were confident in Adrika's ability to defend herself. Kill smirked.

Now, why would that be?

Regardless of intention, futile or not, Killian was aware that the girl may harbor some level of magical ability, and while he couldn't imagine it would be much, he was a man to err on the side of caution.

Hence the Miridyan bracelet.

The little thrill he felt creep up his spine at the sight of her eyes turning even darker with determination was two-fold. First, he needed her to launch an attack so that he could capture her

Inca

and link it to the bracelet, allowing him to control it.

Second? He always liked it when they fought.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided grin as her crouch deepened. Her eyes locked onto his.

Bring it on, Princess.

..........................................

Adrika lunged forward, the dagger aimed for the sweet soft spot Uncle Amlen had taught her to go for, between the fourth and fifth ribs on the left side of the chest. The blade sliced through flesh like butter, the spurt of warm blood coating her fingers a shock of unfamiliar thrill. He grunted and spun, catching her waist with a thick, muscular arm. Her balance faltered. The dagger slipped from between her fingers, and when it clattered to the stone at their feet, she knew she had failed.

Luckily for her, the dagger wasn't her only weapon.

Instead of trying to pull away, she pressed herself closer to the dangerous stranger. Her fingers caught his wrist and she concentrated, her eyebrows drawing together in effort as she pictured flames dancing across the skin of his forearm. She heard a sharp intake of breath behind her, but he made no move to twist out of her grip. In her mind, the flames grew, circling up and up until it reached his shoulder where it licked and teased the sensitive flesh of his neck. Her fingers tightened around his wrist, encouraged when she felt his chest heaving against her back. Still, she let the flames grow, let them spread across his broad chest and travel down the opposite arm, curling and licking the flesh covering thick muscles.