Jazmin sighs and takes a deep breath as she reaches up touching his face, “Bastian,” she whispers, and every nerve in his body comes to life. He leans back in shock, looking at her… his Mate! He calls on his magic, and places his hand over the wound and says, “Domhan, Uisce, Aer, Tiene, Spioraid leighis,” Earth, water, air, fire, Spirit heal her!
Jazmin feels heat, intense heat, but it does not burn, it soothes. She reaches out and runs her fingers through his long dark hair, and smiles, closing her eyes while he heals her.
He steps away from the human female and knows he’s in trouble. Hope left him long ago. Finding one’s mate doesn’t happen for all of his kind, and it is a rare gift. He sends her into a deep healing sleep and rushes out to check on the Queen.
The sight of Caderyn on the ground holding a bronze dagger startles Bastian. She is staring at the design on the hilt, with the remnants of the shattered globe scattered around her on the floor.
“Where did you acquire the Khae-tri, Caderyn?” he asks quietly.
“This is what killed your queen.” Caderyn holds it up to show him. “When I arrived at the shop she was on the floor, with it buried in her chest.”
“The Khae-tri is a Fae dagger, used only by the Queen of the Fae. You will need to keep it with you at all times.”
“He’s so weak,” Caderyn tells him of the globe and begins to weep because she knows Drake is running out of time.
“You should rest my Queen, Jazmin is asleep, and the Shadow will need time to regain his strength.”
“We don’t have time to rest!” Caderyn jumps up and starts pacing. “I don’t understand Bastian, why was your Queen in that shop. Why have your people not fought to free him? Why wait for a human to help? What was the globe for, and where is the Silver Tree?”
Frustrated, he says, “I don’t have all the answers, but our people could not risk the life of the Queen. We must protect the Light; as long as we have a Queen, our people are safe. Without you, we will all fade to shadow! If all else fails, you must return with me. Your King would expect it of you.”
Caderyn does not trust herself to speak for a moment, “I will not survive without him. We are twin souls, Bastian. I feel his pain, his thoughts, and his heart beats in time to the rhythm of mine. Bastian, when he fades so will I.”
“Like hell, you will!” Jazmin snaps from the hall, glaring at Bastian. “I thought pixies were a noble race!” Jazmin says, leaning on the wall. “What kind of crap are you filling her head with? You will not die Caderyn!! I won’t allow it!” Stumbling, she reaches out, and Bastian catches her before she hits the floor. “What did you do to me?” she glares at him.
He picks her up looking into her hazel eyes and Jazmin’s mouth waters. Curling her hand up in his long brown hair, she strokes his neck and watches as his eyes drop to her mouth. Her lips curl up into a smile, and her brain stops firing.
“I saved you,” he says through gritted teeth, “You should be asleep.” His mind draws a blank when her hand strokes his neck, and he breathes in her scent. When his eyes drop to her lush pink lips, he watches, fascinated as her tongue darts out and back in. He squeezes her tight and says in her mind, ‘You should not tempt me, Jazmin. I’ve a desperate need to taste every inch of you!’
Stupefied, Jazmin’s mouth falls open, and he plops her back on the couch, determined to put some space between them. “What is happening?” she whispers. Bastian ignores her and moves away to watch Caderyn. Now is not the time for that discussion.
Caderyn picks up the pedestal the globe rested on, she finds it’s hollow. Inside is a small piece of parchment. Bastian moves closer and watches as she unrolls it. Caderyn sees a language she does not understand, “What does it mean?” She hands it to Bastian.
“It is written in Cymraeg, Welsh. It’s latitude and longitude, for a map,” he responds excitedly.
“A map to where?” Jazmin demands pressing her hands to her throbbing head. Did she imagine the blade sticking out of her chest? It felt so real and what of the two little girls? Her eyes feel with tears when she thinks of them.
“Do you have a map?” Caderyn asks.
“I’ve no need of directions; I know where this map leads,” Bastian tells them frowning at her. “The Fae cannot enter this place,” he explains as he walks back to Jazmin. Drawn by the pounding of her head and confusion he touches a fingertip to her temple, and she sighs as the pain dissipates. Her strength returns.
“Thank you,” she sighs in relief. “Why can’t the Fae enter it? Where is it?” Jazmin asks.
“It is the Eryon Palace, in what you call Mongolia. It’s the home of the Silver Tree Fountain.” Bastian replies, stepping away. “The Guardian of the palace does not like the Fae.”
“Imagine that,” Jazmin quips sarcastically. Bastian grins and starts to walk back to her.
“I need paper, Jazmin?” Caderyn asks. Jazmin
