Chapter 41
M embers of the Unseelie King’s guard linger outside of Vada’s workrooms, having already been gathered by Katiya. I mention staying behind, but then Katiya frowns. “They demanded to speak with you both.”
“Who?” The one word leaves Elias in a snarl.
Katiya’s nose wrinkles with derision before she says, “Orek. He has finally returned.”
At that, Elias’s gaze darkens. He weaves his fingers through mine.
Of all the fae it could possibly be, it has to be him.
“He hates me,” I whisper. And he clearly has no respect for his king if he’s making demands of him.
Elias turns to me, cupping my cheek with his other hand and tilting my face toward his. His gaze burns into mine as he says, “I will never let him harm you. No one shall harm what’s mine.”
Mine.
The claim cuts straight to my heart like a double-edged sword, half joy, half sorrow.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak as tears start to burn at the corners of my eyes. This man who cherishes me, who calls me his, who helped me find a cure for Matt, even when doing so puts him at a disadvantage. How am I supposed to leave him?
To his sister, Elias says, “Take me there.”
I’m breathing hard from jogging after Katiya in an effort to keep up with her speed as she winds through the halls.
We’re in an offshoot of the gorge, closer to the surface.
The walls here lack the decoration and design found in the main part of the city.
The smooth waves of the rock walls appear carved by time and rain from long ago rather than fae tools.
The ground is less firm, almost sandy in places.
Finally, she slows.
Elias tightens his grip on my hand. Because it’s sweaty from where he held it all the way here or from something else?
My heart drops into my stomach as the canyon widens, forming a little open-air room of sorts.
Definitely the latter.
“Good, you brought the traitor,” Orek snarls. He’s dressed for battle, leather armor hugging his form, the symbol of the Unseelie Court—a deer-like skull—emblazoned across his chest. Yet he’s the one calling his king a traitor?
But no, he’s not looking at Elias, nor are the group of Unseelie around him, all sweaty and dirty like they’ve just come from the battlefield. He’s staring at me.
I gasp silently and take a step back.
“Orek. Explain yourself.” The statement is edged in bitterness, as much a treat as an acknowledgment. Elias draws his sword with his free hand. The sight of the gleaming blade has a few of Orek’s men looking at each other uncertainly. One gapes, not in fear but in awe.
Elias ignores them. “How dare you bring such accusations? And where have you been?”
“They haven’t said,” Katiya remarks. She crosses her arms, staring down Orek and his cronies. Her stance feels casual, dismissive.
It’s the opposite of what I feel. It takes effort to focus on what’s being said over the pounding of my heart and the little voice whispering run, run, run.
“I have brought your king,” Katiya all but hisses. “Now explain your demands and dereliction of duty.”
“Dereliction of duty?” He snarls, revealing more of the sharp fangs that jut up from his jaw over his top lip. “My loyalty has always been to the Unseelie. To my people. I’m not the one fucking human bait while our enemies gather to destroy us.”
Behind us, there’s a clatter as the guards move forward and shift their positions.
Katiya pulls the twin blades strapped across her back and drops into an attack pose, ready to strike.
A deep growl leaves Elias as he angles his own blade.
An eerie violet glow, different than the one I’ve seen during moments of passion, radiates from his form and from the blade itself.
“Insult my mate again, and your words will be your last,” Elias promises.
Orek barks a short laugh. “I don’t have to.” He tosses a command over his shoulder. “Bring the prisoner forward.”
The Unseelie around him shift, hauling forward a figure that had previously been hidden behind them. A burly Unseelie, a head taller than the others, tosses the prisoner to the ground in front of Orek.
They land on their hands and knees. Long, brown hair is matted and stuck together in hunks, blocking any view of their face. Armor that may once have been pristine is dented and dirty. It takes several moments for me to pick out flecks of blue amid the dirt and blood stains.
Orek swings the metal toe of his boot into the fae’s side. They topple over with a pained groan.
“Rise, you filth,” he snarls, looking like he might kick them again. “Kneel before the Unseelie King!”
“Stop!” I cry. “How can you expect them to rise when you kick them down?” It’s clear they’ve been abused, probably tortured. They need healing and help, not more punishment.
A chilling smile spreads slowly across Orek’s face as he looks up at me. “I should have known you would defend your Seelie friends.”
“Orek,” Elias warns, shifting his body further in front of me.
Something hums through the air like electricity, raising the hair along my arms. The Unseelie looming behind the prisoner must feel it too because their smirks drop away, and a few eyes widen. Elias’s hair drifts slightly, stirred by a breeze that doesn’t touch the rest of us.
Magic, I realize with a start. It’s his magic. Perhaps that same dark lightning I’ve witnessed before, poised and ready to be unleashed.
“Tell me what you came to say and why you have brought this Seelie here,” the Unseelie King orders, voice ringing through the canyon. “Now.”
With a grunt, Orek stalks behind the prisoner, grabs a handful of their hair, and uses it to jerk their head and torso upright.
I bite my bottom lip so as not to cry out, the act bringing back nightmares of when an Unseelie manhandled me in much the same way at the orders of the monster in front of us.
It’s so clear where he learned it now. A dark part of me hopes Elias ends him.
Here. Now. And all those who would follow in his footsteps and behave in such a way.
The Seelie’s face is so badly bloodied and bruised that it’s hard to make out much of them. One eye is swollen shut, lip cut, cheek caked in dried blood as if they’ve been left lying in it and never cleaned up. A horrible thought that’s probably far too close to the truth.
The bird insignia on their chest is visible now, dented and stained as it is. A member of the Court of Air then.
Orek adjusts his grip, wrenching the Seelie’s head back even further. “Tell the king what you were doing in Unseelie territory.” When they do not immediately speak, he shakes them. “Tell him!”
The command echoes through the gorge, eerie silence in its wake.
“I—” The voice comes out cracked and weak. “I was assigned to track the human.”
Elias’s hand in mine twitches. Otherwise, he is eerily still.
“All of it,” Orek snarls. “Tell him everything you divulged to me.”
The Seelie’s one open eye, once unfocused, manages to find me, and I’d swear there’s an apology buried somewhere beyond the pain, though I don’t know what for.
“The gifted coven sent a human to the Unseelie lands. We were to watch her.” The Seelie—a male, I think—groans. “Track her. See if she led us to Unseelie encampments.”
Elias narrows his eyes. “How? I saw no sign of Seelie following her.”
“Her bag. There’s a tracking spell on her bag.”
My mouth drops open. Elias whips his head toward me, a flash of hurt in his eyes.
“I didn’t—” I shake my head. “I didn’t know. I swear it.”
He swallows thickly, glancing back at the Seelie who has continued to speak.
“We waited to follow so not to give her away.”
My God. My skin goes clammy. “They didn’t tell me. The coven never said a word.”
But no one is listening to me. Watching the door? Yes. The coven was supposed to do that. But watch me? Follow me? Track me without my knowledge? It was never mentioned. Not once.
“You tracked her here?” Katiya asks, voice shaky.
A short jerking of his head down is the Seelie’s only reply.
Oh shit. Oh fuck.
“I didn’t know,” I say to Elias, clinging to his arm, all but begging forgiveness as he stares at the Seelie, expression unreadable. “I would never endanger innocents. You have to know that!”
“I know.” He gives my hand a squeeze but doesn’t look at me.
Still. It’s enough. He knows who I am. He trusts me. We’ll figure this out.
The Seelie have not attacked. They have time to counter, to move. That thought hits like a punch to the chest. Move where? There are more cities like this, I’m sure, but there are so many people here, and it must have taken ages to carve this place from stone one room at a time.
“This information is helpful,” Elias says, lips curling like he tasted something bitter. “We will confer with the counsel on plans for the city. But if you abandon your post again—”
Laughter cuts through the king’s orders.
Orek lets go of the Seelie, who slumps forward but remains upright.
“You still defend her.” He doubles over, slapping his legs.
“Abandoning my post? I sought the answers you were too afraid to find.” Orek wags an accusing finger at the king.
Then, gesturing broadly to himself, “I obtained this information from the enemy. And that’s only the first part of it. Don’t you want to know the rest?”
He taunts the king, pacing in a tight line.
“Tell them.” He kicks the Seelie’s leg as he saunters by him. “Tell them the real reason the coven sent the girl here. Not some fool’s errand to help her sick brother.” He pauses, staring at me, and the little bit of fluttering hope in my chest crashes to dust.
He knows.
“Something much more”—he smirks—“twisted.” When the Seelie does not immediately answer, Orek grabs their hair again, jerking their head back once more. “Tell them!”