Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
ALLERIA
We’ve been riding for a couple of hours when Cairn pulls Selveryn to a stop.
There’s no advance warning. One moment we’re flowing along the road, the steeds eating up the miles in that strange, silent way they move. The next, Selveryn stills, and Cairn’s head tilts slightly.
Therin and Vel bring their mounts up on either side of us.
“Wh—”
Cairn lifts a hand, silencing me. And then I hear it. The creak of wagon wheels, the jingle of horse’s harnesses, and … human voices, faint but growing closer.
My mouth turns dry, heart slamming against my ribs.
People. People from my world. The one he took me from. My father’s court, my bed, the life where I knew who I was and what I believed. Before collars and cages and everything I thought I understood was upended forever.
Cairn’s head turns slightly. Just enough that I’m sure he felt my reaction somehow. His eyes find mine over his shoulder, and the question in them is clear.
Are you going to try and run?
My arms are still wrapped around his waist. I could let go. I could scream. I could slide off Selveryn and run. But when he turns his mount toward the tree line, I don’t make a sound.
We dismount just inside the trees, and the steeds dissolve into mist the moment we’re clear of them. Cairn’s hand closes around my wrist, his grip firm, and the air around us shimmers.
It’s like stepping behind a waterfall made from nothing. One moment I can see the road clearly, the next there’s a faint distortion between us and the world, bending the light.
Glamour. He’s wrapped us in a fae glamour.
The sounds grow louder, and after a couple of minutes, three wagons come into view.
The first two are covered, and the third is open to the sky.
A dozen riders on horseback, their livery marking them as hired guards, ride to either side.
At the head of the column, a man in fine clothes is riding a gray mare.
The guards joke with each other as they pass close to us. So close I could call out, run toward the road, and they would stop. They’d see a woman stumbling out of the forest. And at my request, they would take me home.
Except home isn’t what it was. I’m not what I was. And even as the thought of rescue forms, I’m already seeing all the reasons it would fail.
Cairn would kill them before they drew their swords.
Or they’d kill him, and I’d have to watch, and I don’t …
I don’t know what I’d feel if I had to watch him die.
The idea of him dying unsettles me more than the thought of staying quiet.
But even if they did manage to kill Cairn, Vel and Therin would ensure they didn’t leave here alive.
The third wagon draws level with our hiding place, and I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp.
There are six fae inside. Three sit on benches along the wagon’s sides, their wrists chained to iron rings set into the wood.
The other three stand in the center, swaying with the wagon’s movement, their hands gripping a bar overhead for balance.
Every one of them wears an iron collar that gleams dully in the afternoon light.
Therin goes rigid to one side of me.
“Cairn.”
“I see them.”
Cairn’s stillness has changed, and I’m startled by the rush of rage that goes through me. It’s his emotion, not mine.
No one speaks as the wagons roll past, but the hairs rise on the back of my neck, responding to the building tension in the air. Then Cairn shifts his weight slightly. Therin and Vel move a second later, flanking him.
The tension in the air is becoming unbearable.
“What about her?” Vel doesn’t even look at me, but I know what she's saying.
If they attack, I could shout out and warn them.
Cairn turns to look at me.
Will you?
I jerk back. His lips didn’t move. His voice came from inside my head. Clear as if he’d spoken aloud.
And in that second, the dream I had floods my mind. When he’d spoken to me.
Did you enjoy the show, Moirthalen?
It wasn’t a dream. I knew that. I’ve known it for a while, but hearing his voice inside my mind makes it real in a new way.
Will you warn them? His voice again. Will you call for rescue?
I look at the wagon holding the fae inside, with their collars, chains, and empty eyes. My eyes move to the guards who would surely save me if I called out to them.
No … I won’t.
He holds my gaze for a second longer, then turns away, gliding toward the road with Therin and Vel. They make no sound at all as they move.
There’s no one to stop me now. One sound and the three of them would be surrounded. But I stay where I am, and try not to think about what that means. Instead, I stare at the ground, counting my breaths, my ears straining to hear anything that might tell me what is happening.
Then the world fractures, and I’m in two places at once. Hiding behind the trees, and somewhere else …
It’s happening again. Like the dream. Only … this time I’m not asleep. Sensation floods through me. Metal flowing over skin, the weight of hilts forming in his palms. And through his eyes, I see the man on the gray mare … I watch his face as the fae drop their glamour ...
And then Cairn is moving.
The first guard dies before he clears his weapon. Cairn’s blade opens his throat in a single, clean stroke, and he’s already turning toward the next one. Blood sprays warm across his armor. A sword comes at his head, and he flows under it, driving his blade up through the man’s ribs.
I feel the scrape of steel against bone.
A guard comes from his left. Cairn pivots, both blades moving in arcs too fast to follow. The man’s sword arm separates from his body at the elbow. His scream cuts off when the second blade takes his throat.
Another guard tries to run. Cairn lets him get three steps before the blade takes him between the shoulder blades. Two more guards throw down their weapons and drop to their knees, begging for mercy. Cairn moves past them, leaving them for Therin and Vel.
The man on the gray mare scrambles down and backs away. And for a brief second, I’m outside of his mind watching from afar, as Cairn stalks toward him silently.
He looks like a god of war descended to walk among mortals. Or a nightmare given flesh. A beautiful, merciless nightmare, with blood dripping from the edges of those curved blades.
Heat uncurls low in my stomach.
No! No! I’m watching people die. I’m seeing humans die. I should be horrified. I should be sick. I should be thinking about the families these men might have and the people who will mourn them.
My body doesn’t care about any of that, because it’s watching the way he moves.
“Please.” The man holds up his hands. “Please! I’ll give you anything. Money, property, whatever you want. Just let me live.”
Cairn stops in front of him. His head tilts slightly in a move I’m starting to recognize as him considering something.
“You transport my people in chains. You sell them to humans who break them for sport. You profit from their suffering.”
“I’m just a merchant! I don’t … I don’t hurt anyone. I treat them well, I make sure they’re fed and—” The blade moves too fast to track.
The connection snaps closed, and I’m back in my body, kneeling with my hands pressed against the earth. My heart is racing. My skin is flushed. And between my thighs, I’m—
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to breathe.
What is wrong with me?
Minutes pass. Maybe hours. I don’t know. Then Cairn’s voice cuts through my mind.
Come here.
I make my way toward the road on shaking legs. The smell hits me first—copper and iron. Then I see the bodies.
The road has become a slaughterhouse.
Bodies lie where they fell, guards crumpled to the ground with their blood soaking into the earth. The merchant’s head has rolled against a wagon wheel, and his dead eyes stare in my direction. It feels like he’s judging me. His body lies several feet away.
Cairn stands in the center of it, the blood still wet on his armor, his blades held loosely in his grip. When he turns to look at me, something flickers in his expression, and his mouth curls ever so slightly.
I look away first.
“Break the collars.” His voice snaps back to command.
Therin and Vel move to obey, and I make myself look at the wagon again. The fae inside haven’t moved. They’re watching with wide eyes, bodies rigid, like animals preparing to flee.
My stomach turns.
Therin climbs into the wagon. He kneels in front of the first one. She shrinks back from him, chains rattling.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice is gentle. “But I need you to trust me.”
Vel drags one of the surviving guards to the wagon. The man is shaking, tears running down his face as he pleads incoherently. Therin takes his wrist, and slides across his palm with his sword, Vel pressing the bleeding hand against the female’s collar.
I’ve seen this before. Cairn did this with my blood to break his own collar.
The collar heats, the metal beginning to glow, and the female makes a small, pained sound. Therin murmurs something too low for me to hear, and her hand lifts to grasp his. A second later, the collar cracks and falls away.
He squeezes her fingers, and moves to the next one … and the third. The guard’s face turns gray as more blood is drawn. Vel works through the other three with a second guard.
When the final collar breaks, the guard Vel’s been using starts to babble.
“Please … I don’t want to die. Please—”
Vel cuts his throat mid-sentence. The blood sprays across her face. She wipes it away with the back of her hand, and kicks the body out of the wagon.
Therin’s guard stays silent. He’s staring at the body, and the blood covering Vel’s face. He doesn’t beg or plead. He just closes his eyes and waits for the killing strike.
I should be more horrified by this, but my mind is too busy working through what I’ve been watching. Not once did any of them drink the blood from the palms they cut before breaking the collars.
So why did Cairn drink mine?
One of the males stumbles to his feet when Cairn walks toward the wagon. He drops to his knees, head bowed.
“Eldráfn.” His voice shakes. “We thought you were dead.”
Another fae slides to their knees, then another, until all six are kneeling, their eyes fixed on Cairn with expressions of awe, disbelief, and hope.
“Please, get up.” Cairn’s voice is soft. “None of you need to bow before me.”
They rise, still staring at him like he’s a miracle made flesh.
“Can you ride?”
All six nod. “We were being taken as part of a dance troupe. Keeping us healthy was in their best interests.”
“Good.” He turns to Vel. “Check the other two wagons. See if there are clothes in there they can change into.” His head turns slightly, attention shifting to something I can’t see. “We’re close to where we need to be. A few hours’ ride at most. No more stopping now until we reach them.”
Them? Who are we going to meet?
“Therin, check the horses. Pick out six, and release the rest.”
The horses are nervous, stamping and pulling at their leads, made anxious by the smell of blood. Therin moves among them and gradually they settle.
Once the fae have been given better clothing, and they’re mounted on horses, Vel, Therin and Cairn summon their steeds, and I find myself lifted onto Selveryn’s back before I’ve quite processed what’s happening.
Cairn swings up in front of me, and my arms wrap around his waist, my cheek pressing against his back. After what I’ve just witnessed, what I felt while I was inside his mind as he killed, it feels different … more dangerous.
“Stop thinking so loud.” His voice carries back to me, as he touches his heels to Selveryn’s flanks. “I can feel it.”
My face burns, and I have to stop myself from burying it between his shoulders. “I wasn’t—”
“You were.” There’s a dark edge of amusement in his voice. “And I can’t decide if I should be flattered or concerned.”
I have no answer for that. There’s absolutely nothing I can say that won’t make it worse.
Selveryn starts forward, breaking into a smooth canter that reminds me of a normal horse. There’s no warping of the scenery, it stays smooth and flowing. Behind us, the others follow. The freed fae ride awkwardly, but they’re riding. They’re free.
Because of him, and what he just did.
I watched him, Vel and Therin kill a dozen men without hesitation.
I should hate him for it. I should be looking for any opportunity to run.
Instead, I’m thinking about the way he looked as he moved.
And the expression on his face as he looked at me across the road with blood still dripping from his blades.
I’m so screwed.