Court Of Tethers and Ruin *A dark fae fantasy- romance*

Chapter 4: The rider and the pawn

Ayla's head span wildly as she regained consciousness, a fierce sharp stabbing pain lacing behind her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered as she stirred awake and struggled to shake the haze enveloping her mind. She was vaguely aware of the warm sun basking her face and the steady, unyielding strength of an arm firmly pressing her against something solid. Furrowing her brows, she attempted to lift her hand to shield her eyes from the searing sun, only to find her arm hung by her side heavy and unable to move. Her breath caught and her chest felt heavy as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Calm, Vais Lumira." The words slipped into her ear, carried on a breath that was warm against her neck, spoken in a voice as smooth and intoxicating as sweet whiskey. She knew that voice, that rich murmur that seemed to hold a secret. Her eyes snapped open, heart thundering in her chest, each beat so loud she felt certain the Fae could hear it echo through her bones.

She tilted her up to meet his gaze ... dark, smoldering eyes flecked with gold and coated in a shimmering dust that made them appear like embers glowing beneath ash. His lips curved into a sly, familiar smirk as his fingers gently grazed her ear, tucking a strand of hair behind it with surprising tenderness.

His fingers grazed her ear tucking a strand behind it "Calm Vais Lumira. You have slept for a day and morning. The spell will wear off soon." His fingertips stroked the side of her neck tenderly leaving a trail of warmth that made her pulse quicken.

Ayla felt a gentle vibration, an electric current that buzzed beneath her skin and she felt the familiar paralysing sensation of the unknown coursing through her bones. Her head felt heavy and rebounded against the cool metal of the Fae's metal armour. Ayla closed her eyes as the vibration tinged her skin making it feel like rippling water. At the corner of her eye, the golden thread weaved in slow waves wrapping around her, she felt the thread throb in sync with her heart. She had never been on the other side of a thread, she had never seen it attached to herself or felt the alluring pull of fate. For her kind it was unheard of. In all the centuries, not one of her ancestors possessed a single thread.

So why did she? And why this fae?

She pondered ways to sever the tie, whether whatever damned bargain binded her to this Fae would burn and fray once he inevitably got bored of her.

With great effort, she managed to turn her head and take in her surroundings. Before her stretched rolling hills, impossibly green, cloaked in layers of trees whose leaves blazed in fiery shades of red and orange, loose leaves would be swept with the swirling wind. The trees shimmered and swayed as though stirred by something enchantment, as if the forest itself were alive and watching her. The earth itself seemed to breathe life creasing and dipping like even inhales.

"Where am I?" Her voice came out croaky and horse.

"The Glades of Sylph," he replied, his words sliding over each syllable like a spellbinding melody. "On the border between Vearithryn and Eldrithar." There was finality in his tone, as though he had already broken the conversation that had not yet begun. His voice was otherworldly, each word wrapping around her like a mist. She felt as though she could listen to him forever, until the world faded and left only his voice to fill her senses. But then, perhaps that was the spell still lingering within her.

Ayla titled her head backwards, her gaze drifting backwards to the clear blue sky; following the silky wisps of clouds  - tinged with a burnt red - swirl and spiral in endless patterns and the long tendrils of her hair catching in the breeze. She focused on her breath, taking long and steady inhales. She watched her thread billow in the wind in long seeping waves until the sun in the sky had started to paint deep pinks and reds into the evening horizon. She contemplated its meaning and thought about her mother's teachings.