4. Sage

CHAPTER 4

Sage

The fae lord riding up the road was stunning. Of course, he was fae, so he was supposed to be stunning. But I'd never seen a fae before and had always assumed the stories about their beauty had been exaggerated.

His blond hair shimmered like gold in stark contrast to his all black clothing but was surprisingly short — since most tales said fae wore their hair long. Although I supposed if you were a professional soldier, long hair might be more of a hindrance than a help.

He slowed his mount, a large black stallion, and acknowledged the gate guard who gave him a curt nod then turned his attention to me, capturing me with piercing green eyes.

Except they weren't just green, they were emeralds, like the small emerald dangling from the string around my neck. Eyes like a gem or a precious metal. Just like the stories said. Those jeweled eyes were captured in a sculpted, beautiful, almost boyish face, but I wasn't foolish enough to think he was Sawyer's age or even mine. Fae didn't age the way humans did. For all I knew this fae was centuries old and far from naive.

"My lord," I said, sinking into a deep curtsey as he approached, half in an attempt to avoid staring at his eyes, or his face, or his pointed ears peeking out of his messy golden locks, and half to hide how stunned I was just looking at him. "Welcome to Herstind Castle, will you require lodging?"

"No," he replied, his voice soft as he dismounted. "I can't stay."

"See to the man's horse," I said to Dodd while taking a step back from the fae.

He wasn't as big or as broad-shouldered as I'd imagined — the one thing I guess the stories had gotten wrong — but he was still a head taller than me. Even if his face suggested he wasn't dangerous, the rest of him with his black leather armor, the longsword at his hip, and the two long daggers on his other hip did, and I didn't want to risk him having the same kind of temper as Edred's.

"Just water him. This won't take long." The fae tossed a copper bit to Dodd, making the child's eyes widen in surprise, and the boy bobbed, bowing profusely in gratitude. The bit wasn't much, but Edred barely paid his servants, and as a child, Dodd wasn't paid anything.

"That was kind, my lord," I murmured, keeping my gaze lowered because it was expected of me, but also so I wouldn't end up staring at him again. "Thank you."

I led him across the bailey to the keep's main doors while Dodd took the stallion toward the trough by the stables.

The fae didn't respond to my comment. Not that I expected him to, but when I glanced at him — unable to help myself — he didn't look bored or haughty like I'd imagined a fae lord would be at being reduced to a messenger. His posture was tight and not with just the coiled tightness of a warrior, but someone about to do something he didn't want to do.

How many towns had he already visited? How many families had he told that their son or brother or father was going to the Gray?

There were usually only a handful of men selected each year, but this might not have been this fae's first time delivering the bad news. Herstind might not be his first stop this year, and how many other years had he ridden out and delivered the news? How many times had he had to deal with crying mothers and wives and children? Even the most hardened warrior — unless he didn't have a heart — couldn't keep relaying terrible news year after year and not be affected.

"No one here will weep," I said, climbing the half dozen shallow steps to the keep's main doors.

I didn't know why I felt the need to reassure him that he could just deliver his message and be on his way, but just like looking at him, I couldn't seem to help myself.

He frowned at me and I jerked my attention away.

"What?" he asked.

"There'll be no crying women or children at Herstind." I grabbed the ring to one of the two heavy doors. "No one will argue the selection."

Not that the selection could be argued with. If the sacrifice refused to take on the spell binding him to the Black Tower, the messenger would force him. Which explained why they'd sent a fae who was greater in size and strength than a human. And even if Edred had manipulated the selection process, I still couldn't dispute it, not until I was free of him and found a way for the king to listen to me or found a way to break the binding spell. Except Sawyer was the person most likely to figure out how to break the spell and he wouldn't be able to do that at the Black Tower.

"I think no reaction is worse," the fae said. "It's best when it's a celebration?—"

My gaze jumped back to his for a heart-stopping second with my shock at what he'd just said before I yanked it back down.

Why couldn't I stop looking at him?

It had to be because he was so beautiful and exotic… even though it felt more like something inside me urged me to look at him. Maybe that was his magic. Maybe he compelled people to pay attention to him, as if his stunning looks weren't enough.

"You've encountered celebrations at being the sacrifice?" I forced out, determined to keep my gaze down like Edred and the rest of society demanded.

"Not many. But there are some humans who recognize their duty to protect the Gray," he replied, his voice soft and strange, not giving me any indication how he felt about that. "I've seen families who've raised their sons to answer the call, taking the place of someone else in their city."

It seemed crazy that someone would willingly send their children to the Gray or to be raised knowing you'd never be allowed to fall in love or have a family, that you were going to spend the rest of your life as a soldier. Even when men became too old for regular duty, they remained in the Black Guard in service positions like cooking and cleaning and all the other things needed to maintain the Guard and its keep.

But I supposed that was one way to deal with a fate you had no control of. It wasn't the fate I'd choose, but I could see why someone might embrace it. Even if your destiny wasn't a normal life and possibly an early grave, at least you knew what your destiny was and didn't spend ten years praying your name was never drawn in the lottery.

"There won't be a celebration here, either," I said.

Except there probably would be. Edred had finally figured out how to get rid of Sawyer without incurring the wrath of the king's inquisitors and if someone questioned Sawyer's selection, Edred could say he was as surprised as everyone else. He could claim our mother must have forgotten to remove Sawyer's name from the lottery when our middle brother had died making Sawyer the new heir even though I knew she had. He'd also say that Sawyer's name being entered before he was of age was an accident. It was rare, but I'd heard it had happened before. Edred probably wouldn't even wait for Sawyer to leave before starting his celebrations.

I shoved that bitter thought as deep down as I could and schooled my expression. Edred was already in a foul mood and looking like the willful stepdaughter he'd hoped to have gotten rid of years ago wouldn't help.

"My lord," I said, my gaze flickering to his again despite my determination to avoid eye contact. "May I have your name."

He stared back at me and his brilliant green eyes, perhaps the most dangerous weapon on his person, stunned me all over again. "There's no need. I'm just a Guardsman."

"You're fae." I heaved my attention to his boots. They were black, like the rest of his clothing, and worn, making me wonder if the Black Guard had a dress uniform that this man wasn't wearing, or if it was practical leather armor and nothing else. "The Marquis of Herstind March, Lord Edred, will expect a proper introduction."

"So, he's one of those," the fae sighed. "Fine. I'm Quill."

I wasn't sure what he meant by "one of those" but I suspected the fae, Lord Quill, wasn't interested in ceremony, at least when it came to delivering the lottery's summons.

I pulled open the heavy door, savoring the breath of cool air from inside whispering against my skin before the heat outside devoured it, and stood aside so Lord Quill could enter first.

Inside, men lined both sides of the great hall, standing in front of the long tables and benches where they took their meals, creating an aisle that drew the eye straight to the back where Edred sat on his throne. The throne, a heavy, intricate piece of furniture that had been built after my mother had died was raised a good three feet above everyone else on a wide dais — something he'd also built after my mother's passing.

To his right and slightly behind him on a much simpler chair sat his new bride, a meek woman a few years younger than me. She sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her gaze locked on them, and her back perfectly straight. Everything about her was perfect: her clothes, her hair, and her manners. She was the perfect image of the perfect wife, beautiful, quiet, and obedient.

To his left, and a good two steps behind, stood Sawyer. He'd managed to get his breathing under control and had changed out of the heavy padded practice tunic into a white shirt and red jerkin and replaced his dusty brown pants for clean black ones. His red hair that was usually tousled — very much like Lord Quill's blond locks — had been soaked and slicked back. It was the only way to make his unruly hair presentable in Edred's opinion and wouldn't last. The second it started to dry, it would curl and before long it would be back to normal. At his left hip he wore his real longsword, not the blunt practice blade, and at his right, his dagger.

"Marquis of Herstind March, Lord Edred," I called out, and a hush fell over the room. "I present Lord Quill of the Black Guard."

Lord Quill raised his chin ever so slightly, marched to the center of the hall, and stood at attention. I hurried after him, stopping a few paces behind him and to his right. If he'd brought a servant with him, I would have waited by the door, but since he was alone, Edred expected me to take the place of Lord Quill's valet even though I was a woman.

"Well met, Lord Quill of the Black Guard," Edred said, his eyes narrowing with his displeasure, likely because Lord Quill hadn't even bowed his head in respect.

"The lottery has been drawn." Lord Quill pulled out a thin bronze medallion.

My heart pounded. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Edred hadn't manipulated the lottery and Sawyer was safe.

But that was a childish hope. I already knew the truth. Edred hadn't even tried to hide his pleasure at hearing that a member of the Black Guard was riding up the road. Lord Quill was going to say Sawyer's name and all I could do was pray he'd survive long enough for me to figure out how to release him.

Except with Sawyer's condition, he wouldn't last a fortnight. Maybe I could go with him to the Black Tower and beg for his release. Which was a ridiculous idea.

I'd have less hope petitioning the Commander of the Black Guard than I would the king. The Black Guard was all men and only men. I had even less value in the Black Tower than I did in Herstind March. At least there were women in the Kingdom of Erellod's court who might be able to bend the king's ear on my behalf.

Of course, anyone with any sense would pull Sawyer from serious training the moment they saw his condition, which would probably be by the end of the first day. They'd know he was a liability, but that didn't mean they'd set him free. They'd assign him a service position… which might give me enough time to fix this.

Darkness fluttered across my vision and the piece of floor in front of my toes where I'd been staring vanished beneath a heavy mist. The mist curled around my ankles, bringing with it a frozen fear that snaked up my legs and wound around my heart.

My pulse shuddered. I was having a premonition.

My fear from the premonition deepened along with the worry of someone discovering that something was wrong with me.

I'd never had two premonitions within a fortnight of each other, let alone in the same day, and I couldn't let anyone know about my ability. Edred most of all. If he knew I had the ability to sense the future, he'd try to force me to use it for his personal gain. Except I had no control over my premonitions. I didn't know when the darkness would come over me or what it would warn me of. Sometimes I couldn't even figure out what it meant because all I got were vague sensations.

But in this case, I already knew Sawyer was in danger, and I didn't need my unusual instincts to remind me.

Except this premonition was so much stronger than any I'd experienced before. The others had always been darkness joined with a flash of emotion. I'd never experience the fog before and the emotion filling me now was overwhelming.

A cold wind gusted, chilling the sweat on my body, cutting through my thin summer dress and stinging my skin as if I'd stepped through a fae ring to someplace freezing. The mist whirled around and around then opened up revealing Sawyer.

He lay at my feet, his lifeless eyes staring at nothing and his pale skin ashen. Behind him, freestanding in the mist without any sign of a wall, stood a massive black door engraved with writhing shadowy monsters. The Shadow Gate.

It was exactly like the drawing I'd seen when I was a child. Except it was so much bigger than I imagined, towering above me and stretching wide enough for at least half a dozen carriages to pass through side by side.

The fear twisted tighter and an overwhelming sense of urgency seized me. Sawyer's body was going to give out while he was in the Gray, and it was going to happen soon.