Chapter 17

17

K yrie

I sink down behind the rock; mud mixed with water and ice soaks into my pants from below. The oversized oilskin coat I’m drowning in does a decent job of keeping me mostly dry and warm. I touch a hand to my lips.

What did I just do?

I’m struggling to breathe, but it has nothing to do with fear or exertion. My face feels hot even though sleet is still falling.

I kissed Damon. What was I thinking? I kissed him. It was me who put my mouth on his.

I wasn’t thinking, and that’s the problem. It just happened. A spur-of-the-moment thing.

I’m worried. More worried than I’ve ever been in my whole life.

What if something happens to him?

I can’t lose him. Not now.

Cyrano screams again. I turn my attention to the battle. My focus narrows, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Three bloodfae have the male surrounded.

No!

Damon rushes in and attacks the closest, cleaving his head from his shoulders. The other two leap forward, reaching for him, knocking Cyrano out of the way in the process.

I gasp. I wish I could wield a sword. I’d be able to help. My father taught us a few basic moves but nothing that would help against these bloodthirsty, battle-hardened fae. I need to stay out of the way and hope for the best.

The bloodfae scream as they charge Damon, who lifts his sword and deflects the blows, each one coming faster and harder than the last. His movements are smooth, precise, and graceful despite his massive size. It is clear to see that he has done this a time or two. That he is well-trained in the art of the sword. It gives me some hope that he will make it.

There is a flash of white light and a crackle that moves through the air. It’s followed by a brighter light and another louder crackle. Even from all the way here, I scent magic.

Damon staggers back a few steps before throwing himself back into the fight with renewed vigor. Damon attacked using his magic but was deflected. The fae seem reluctant to use their magic; I’m not sure why that is.

Even so, the bloodfae are relentless, pressing their advantage as another of their kind joins the volley.

No! Please!

I look at the dagger in my hand. It would be useless in a sword fight. The fae who came at me earlier sheathed their swords, thinking I would be a soft target. That wouldn’t happen this time. I would be dispatched in a heartbeat.

Damon’s face is a mask of sheer determination as he throws himself into the skirmish. His bright blue eyes are so vivid as they narrow and flick from one fae to the other. In a sudden burst of effort, Damon lunges forward, plunging his sword into the chest of one of the bloodfae. The fae’s eyes widen in shock before glazing over as he falls.

Just then, General Belen gives a shout. “Retreat! Retreat!” he yells. “Fall back!” He’s sitting atop his black stallion, his spear is raised.

No!

This can’t be happening.

I watch in horror as the few remaining shadowfae mount and ride away at a flat gallop. Some of the bloodfae give chase while others dispatch wounded shadowfae. The rest surround Damon. I count six…no, seven. Too many!

No! No! No!

I swallow hard. I want to help him, but I can’t. They’ll quickly overthrow me.

“You should surrender, my Lord.” It’s said in a sneer. “Drop that sword.”

My Lord.

Why are they calling him that?

I get this uneasy feeling in my belly.

“Drop it!” another male snarls. “We may not kill you, but we can make you bleed if you do not listen. Most of us have fed well, so don’t try to use your magic on us either. It will end badly for you if you do.”

“Where is that sweet human I saw you with earlier?” Another looks around him, and I duck back down, my heart stuttering.

“Her blood smelled extra sweet,” another says, sniffing the air.

I grab a handful of mud and slather it over the small, bleeding nick on my shoulder. They’ll smell me out otherwise. They might still be able to, even after taking measures against it.

I crouch as still as a statue. My heart is racing. I’m trying hard not to breathe too loudly.

“She’s mine when we find her,” someone says, his voice full of bravado. I think it’s the same bloodfae.

“We’d have to fight for her, Egan,” another one yells; it sounds like he is smiling.

“You have two left arms, Hector. I will win every time.”

They all laugh.

Hooves splash on the wet ground as a horse approaches at a jog. “The Primus wants us to ride out as soon as possible. There could be other groups looking for the icefae. He is prized, indeed. Tie him up, and we mount.”

Prized?

Why did the bloodfae call him “lord”? He said he was once powerful. Perhaps he is an earl or a duke?

Surely, he isn’t a king. One of the lost kings. No! Absurd. Just thinking it makes me feel stupid. A king in a salt mine? No! The kings are gone. It is rumored that Snow killed them all. That makes the most sense to me. Not this. But there is a bounty on his head. He was powerful. He has to be someone of importance.

“Tie him up, Hector. Make sure you do a good job,” someone says in a gruff voice.

I hear footsteps and sniffing. Someone is walking this way and that, coming ever closer to my hiding place, which isn’t much of a hiding place. If he walks beyond these rocks and turns, he will see me easily. I shut my eyes, praying to each of the gods that it doesn’t happen.

“What are you doing?” It sounds like Egan. He sounds irritated.

“I’m sure I can smell that female. Human, I think.” He sniffs some more.

Noooo!

Kakara, help me. If he catches me, I am surely dead. He’ll drink me dry.

“We need to leave. You heard Aithan; the Primus wants us mounted.”

“Yes, but—”

“No, buts. Get your ass over here. We need to go before the shadowfae regroup. Before one of the other factions, arrive. We would not be as successful against the beastfae or the shifters.”

A horse whinnies. Hooves thud and splash against the ground. Very carefully, I sneak a peek over the rock. Most of the fae are mounted and moving off. There are three left with Damon, who is tied up with his hands behind his back.

They lift him into a saddle. He glances back for a second, his eyes catching mine. He gives the smallest shake of the head, telling me not to do anything stupid.

I realize that I am gripping my dagger so tightly that my fingers ache. After tying Damon to the saddle horn, the rest of the fae mount up, and they ride away.

I stay right there for what feels like an age. So long that my butt starts to go numb. Aside from the odd nicker from a horse and the rustle of wind through the mostly leafless trees, there’s nothing.

I am alone.

Damon is gone.

What am I going to do?

I force myself to stand. Sitting here is not going to help me. It’s not going to get me anywhere. I need to move. To figure out a plan.

What plan?

I carefully look over the rock. There are bodies littered everywhere. Both fae and horses. There are several beasts milling about, all riderless. They must be the horses of fallen shadowfae.

I step out from behind the rocks on shaking legs. That’s when I see him. It’s Cyrano. He’s on his back, his sightless eyes staring up to the heavens. His throat has been slit. I make a sobbing noise, which I stifle with my hand.

I didn’t like Cyrano much. He was a coward and not to be trusted, but he didn’t deserve to die. Not like this.

I wipe my eyes as the tears fall. I’m crying for Cyrano, for myself, but mostly for Damon. What are they going to do with him? Where are they taking him? The only thing I can think to do is to follow. Maybe I can…find a way to help him. To rescue him. It sounds laughable and yet I have to try. I look around. There is nothing for me out here anymore.

I start to walk toward the nearest horse, but it startles and runs away.

Jessop’s tit!

There is another horse near the edge of the clearing. I slowly walk toward it, keeping my eyes low. I don’t walk directly at the beast, either. I carefully make my way closer. Slowly…slowly…inch by inch.

The horse looks up, tensing. I work at keeping my breathing even and my eyes averted. I stand still for a moment, praying it doesn’t get scared off.

I’m looking at it from the corner of my eye. It snorts, turns, and hightails it out of there. I watch with a sinking heart as it gallops away.

That leaves one last horse. This is it, my last chance to avoid having to walk. I need to get this right. I won’t get very far on foot. I take one step toward the animal when someone grabs me from behind. They clamp their hand over my mouth as I start to scream.

I kick and flail.

A fae dressed in leather walks toward me. He is in high boots with thick leather armor over his tunic. A sword is belted around his waist. He lowers the hood of his oilskin coat and smiles. His canines are sharp.

My breathing stutters.

A bloodfae. No! I am doomed.