Chapter 8
EIGHT
ALLERIA
Weak sunlight is filtering through the cave entrance when I wake. My hands fly to my ribs, probing gently. The pain has gone. It’s as though they were never broken at all.
I push myself up cautiously, using the cave wall for support. Every muscle in my body aches with a bone-deep exhaustion that makes every move an effort. But I manage to sit up, and then search for him.
He’s standing to one side of the cave entrance with his back to me.
The antlers are gone, and without them, his silhouette has changed.
There’s nothing human about the way he holds himself.
Nothing human in the predatory stillness of his body.
Even without the antlers and the gray-green skin, he is completely and utterly other.
I’m sure he knows I’m awake, but he doesn’t turn.
I use the wall to drag myself to my feet, my legs shaking beneath me. My throat hurts, my lips are cracked, and my stomach cramps. For a long moment, I stand there watching him, and wonder what he’s waiting for.
His head lifts, and it hits me that his face is raised to the sun. An unexpected wave of guilt rolls through me.
Where are they kept while they wait to be hunted? How do they live? Are they kept indoors or outside like cattle? Are any of them the animals I’ve been raised to believe they are? Or are they all as intelligent as he seems to be? As dangerous?
“Time to move.”
His voice cuts through my thoughts, and my eyes snap to him as he turns and comes toward me. When his hand closes around my arm, I shake my head.
“I’ll walk. You don’t have to drag me. I’ll walk.”
Those golden eyes sweep over me, then his hand drops. “If you run—”
“I won’t run.”
He stares at me for a second longer, then turns and strides out of the cave.
I follow him. It isn’t long before I’m gasping for breath and struggling to keep up.
I haven’t eaten in … two days? Three? I don’t know anymore.
But I don’t say anything. He’s already broken me once, and I have no doubt that the moment I become an inconvenience he’ll do it again.
The trees thin out, becoming gently rolling hills and farmland.
A road I recognize cuts through the scenery.
It’s the one I traveled on my way to the Dell.
He veers away from that, moving us through fields and along hedgerows, skirting farmhouses peppered across the landscape.
The land around the Dell is sparsely populated.
I don’t suppose anyone wants to live too close to a place that keeps monsters.
But I still see people in the distance. Farmers working their fields, a shepherd with his flock, a woman hanging laundry outside a cottage.
Every time we see anyone on the road, he pulls me down behind the bushes, or into the shadow of a tree, covering my mouth with his hand, his body tense and still until they pass. I don’t fight him. I’ve learned better than that.
My legs are burning with every step, and my stomach cramps and twists around nothing. I need food. I don’t know how long a fae can go without eating, but I’m human and I need to eat something.
We crest a low hill, and below us buildings spread out in the distance. He pulls me behind a low, crumbling stone wall.
“There is a town ahead.” His voice is soft. “You will do what I tell you, or I will leave your body here for the crows.”
It takes a moment for the words to sink in. He’s barely spoken since this nightmare began beyond issuing commands or threats. Hearing full sentences from him is almost as unsettling as what he’s saying.
“You will get us somewhere to stay.”
“How am I supposed to do that? We’re on foot. You’re fae, and I—”
His hand closes around my throat, and my feet leave the ground. My back slams into the wall hard enough to drive the air from my lungs. He doesn’t say a word, watching while I fight for air. He holds me there until I’m certain that this is the moment he’s going to kill me. Then he drops me.
I fall to the ground, coughing and wretching.
“When we reach the town, you will tell whoever asks that bandits attacked us, killed your guards, and took the horses. You escaped with your …” His lips twist. “Your pet.”
“Pet?”
“Does your court not keep my kind as pets?” The words are soft, almost gentle. “Or are we only good enough to kill?”
“I’ve never seen—” I stop, because that isn’t true. Not when I think about it. There had been a time … before my mother died … when there were servants in the palace … ones that always seemed a little strange to me.
Had they been fae?
He crouches down, and his eyes meet mine. “If you run, I’ll catch you before you can take ten steps. If you scream, I’ll tear out your throat before the sound fades. If you try to signal anyone …” He pauses, head tilting slightly. “I’ll kill them first. Slowly. And make you watch.”
I nod, fighting to stop tears from falling.
He straightens, and touches his throat. A collar appears there, dark iron, with bruised and broken skin where the metal meets flesh.
His posture shifts, shoulders curving inward, head bowing.
The transformation is instant. He no longer looks like the predator who’s held me captive, but instead how I’d always expected fae animals would look.
Cowed. Weak. Prey.
My lips part. It’s a performance. I know it’s a performance, but it still makes me sick. I’m seeing fae magic. The very thing the collars are supposed to destroy.
We set off down the hill toward the town, and he drops back until he’s two steps behind me. Having him at my back makes the skin between my shoulder blades twitch, every instinct screaming at me not to let him out of my sight.
He’s dangerous. He’s not what I’ve been taught to believe.
A farmer passes us on the road, leading a cart piled high with cabbages. His eyes move over me—my torn clothes and dirty face, the bruises visible on my throat—and then to the fae shuffling along behind me.
“Rough journey?” The farmer frowns at me.
What if I ask for his help? Tell him that the fae with me is not the weak, broken thing he appears to be?
I open my mouth … and nothing comes out. The fae’s hand brushes the small of my back, a touch so light I doubt the farmer sees it. Terror surges through me, and my throat closes up.
“Bandits,” I manage to say. “On the road. My … My fae managed to get me away, but my guards … they … they …”
The farmer shakes his head, features softening. “You can find the inn near the center of the town. There will be rooms there. It’s called The Crossed Keys.”
“Thank you.”
He nods and moves on. I stay where I am, watching as he disappears around a bend in the road. I should have said something. I should have found a way to tell the farmer that I was a prisoner.
“Had you spoken—” The fae’s voice comes from just behind my ear. “He would have died. And you would have watched the light leave his eyes.”
My eyes snap to him. How did he know what I was thinking?
His hand flicks toward me. “Your face speaks your thoughts.” His eyes narrow. “Hold still.”
“Why? What—”
His fingers brush my cheek, and the air shimmers around me. “Come.”
“What did you do?”
He doesn’t answer me, and sets off along the road.
Frowning, I follow him, and by the time we reach the small town, he’s fallen behind me a step or two again.
I walk through the town with my captor at my heels.
He plays the role of a docile pet with frightening ease, while I play a traumatized noblewoman.
The terrible thing is I don’t have to pretend very hard.
My terror is so constant now, it’s almost become background noise, a steady hum beneath every thought and every breath.
People move through the streets without giving us a second glance, women with baskets on their arms, and children darting between their legs. The small market area is filled with merchants calling out their wares.
As we pass a rain barrel, I catch sight of my reflection and stop, lips parting. I don’t recognize the face staring back at me. My features are softer, my hair darker than it should be.
Is this what he did when the air shimmered?
I look like a stranger.
“Move.” The order is a low mutter, and I stumble forward again.
The inn sits on the corner of the square, a wooden sign swinging above the door announcing its name. The door opens into a common room that smells of wood smoke, ale, and roasting meat. My mouth waters, and my stomach grumbles.
A few patrons look up from their meals. Farmers eating bowls of stew, a woman alone sipping from a cup. Their eyes move over me, cataloging and dismissing, and then slide to the fae standing silently behind me in his tattered tunic, collar tight around his throat.
I brace myself, waiting for them to tell us to leave, or attack us, or …
I don’t know. Question why I’m with a fae, maybe.
But they don’t. And after a couple of seconds, they all go back to what they were doing before we entered.
Taking a deep breath, I make my way to where the innkeeper is standing behind a dark, wooden counter.
“Can I help you, miss?”
“I need a room. We were attacked on the road. Bandits killed my guards and took everything …” I don’t have to fake the tremble in my voice. “I barely escaped with my life.”
“Gods.” The innkeeper shakes her head. “Are you hurt?”
My fingers creep to my throat, where his fingerprints are stamped into my skin. “I’m not badly injured. Just shaken. I have some coins they didn’t find before we fled … I can pay for a room.”
“No. I’ll not hear of it.” She’s already reaching under the counter, then slides a key across to me. Her eyes flick to the fae standing motionless behind me. “Is that one yours?”
“Yes.” The word sticks in my throat.
“Will it behave itself?”
“He … It’s well trained. It won’t cause trouble.”
She studies him for a moment, and whatever she sees satisfies her, because she nods.
“There is a messenger post at the north end of the town. You will be able to send word to your family there. Your room is on the top floor, at the far end of the hall. I can arrange for water to be sent up for you to wash. I will also have some food sent up.”
I fumble for my purse, and she stops me.
“I will not see a woman on the streets after an ordeal like yours. Keep your coin, miss. Now go and rest. You look like you need it.”
“Thank you.”
I take the key and turn toward the stairs, forcing myself not to check where the fae is.
My legs feel like they’re going to give out with every step up the narrow staircase.
The hallway at the top is dim, lit by a single tiny window, and the room is the only one on this floor.
I wonder if she gave me this one because I have a fae with me.
I open the door to discover a small but clean space within. There is a dresser, an empty washbasin, a single window with the shutters closed, and …
One bed.
I stand in the doorway staring at it. I’ve never shared a room with anyone, let alone a bed. Not even with my sister. And now—
A slight pressure on the small of my back propels me forward and inside. The click of the latch as the door shuts behind me, followed by the scrape of the bolt sliding home, is loud in the silence.
I turn to face him, and find the glamour he’d used has gone.
The collar is no longer around his throat, and his shoulders are straight and broad instead of hunched inward.
He stands in the middle of the room, so tall his head almost brushes the ceiling beams. The room was already small, now it seems to shrink further.
His eyes move over the space with a predator’s assessment.
The window. The dresser. The bed. Me.
Then he moves past me to the window, cracks the shutters, and looks down at the street below. The tension eases slightly from his stance.
I sink onto the edge of the bed. The mattress is thin, stuffed with straw that rustles as I shift, but after days of forest ground, it feels softer than my bed at home.
A knock at the door brings him around to face it, the glamour settling back into place with a speed that startles me. He crosses the room to unlock the door. It opens to reveal a young serving girl with a tray balanced on one arm and a steaming pitcher of water in the other.
Her eyes linger on him, on the collar, and down to where the tunic ends at his thighs. Her tongue comes out to sweep across her lips.
“Mistress sent this up,” she says without taking her eyes off him. “Food and hot water.”
“Thank you.”
She sets the tray on the tiny table beneath the window—bread, cheese, a bowl of stew, and a mug of ale. One serving. Just one. The implications of that hit me. They’re feeding me, not him.
The girl pours the water into the washbasin, still casting glances in his direction.
“That’s a fine one. Where did you get it?”
The question catches me off guard. “My … my father bought him for me.”
“Lucky.” She looks him over again, slowly. “My aunt rented one once. We all took turns. I’ll never forget it.”
Took turns? Rented?
“Oh …” Took turns and rented for what?
“Well, enjoy your meal.” Her gaze slides back to him. “If you want to earn some gold, you could hire it out … you’d make good money for this one.” Her words clear up my confusion of what she meant by took turns. My cheeks heat up.
The docile slump of the fae’s shoulders turns rigid. The empty look he’s been performing vanishes, and his eyes track her the way a wolf tracks a rabbit.
“No. No, that’s okay.” The words come out too fast. Please leave. Please go before he kills you.
“Ring the bell if you need anything.” She indicates the cord hanging near the door. “It’ll sound in the kitchen, and let someone know you’re calling.” The door closes behind her.
The fae locks it again, the glamour dropping. He lowers himself to the floor, back to the door, legs stretched out in front of him, and his arms cross over his chest. His eyes fix on me.
“Eat.”
I wash first, the water turning gray with dirt, sweat, and dried blood.
It makes me glad there are no mirrors to show how I must look.
Once I feel cleaner, I reach for the food with hands that won’t stop shaking.
The bread is fresh, still faintly warm. I tear it in two, and set part of it aside.
The stew is hot and rich, but I force myself to leave half, and only take a few sips of the ale.
He hasn’t eaten either. I don’t know if fae need food the way humans do, but I can’t eat everything and leave him with nothing, no matter how much he scares me.
All the while, I’m conscious of him sitting there, watching me.
When I’m done, I return to sit on the bed, with my hands tucked between my thighs. In the silence, while the afternoon light filters through the shutters, the enormity of my situation crashes over me.
No one knows where I am. No one is coming to save me.