Chapter 26
Huntyr
Ifeel like I’ve been walking for an eternity, winding through this maze of never-ending twists and turns. My feet are aching, my ankle tender from where I twisted it rolling out of the closing walls of the maze. I hardly feel it though, thanks to the anger that’s still coursing through my veins.
The pure, unadulterated rage.
Every step since I left Jeseina feels heavier, more burdensome.
And now, I find myself looking at another body.
When the maze opened into a clearing with a large white stone fountain, I practically felt the presence of death. I had sent a pulse of light through the air to get a sense of my surroundings as I stepped towards the center of the maze.
And then I halted.
Because hanging from the side of the fountain, unmoving, is a body topped with characteristically long blonde hair.
I approach her slowly now, careful of any Fae that might be lingering in the shadows.
Steam still rises from the pool of water. The heat of it pushes against my skin, and even though I brace myself, my stomach still sours when I lift her head and see what remains of Alexandria’s face. It's nothing more than raised red blisters and melted flesh.
Seraphina burned her alive.
Like a tide rushing in at a breakneck pace, white-hot fury pours through me, lighting my body aflame. The orb in my hand sputters before suddenly lighting up with an intensity that seems unnatural. It’s a beacon, shooting towards the sky and alerting everyone to my presence.
For a brief moment, I stare at it in my hand until the brightness causes an ache in my eyes. When I finally look away, I find myself eye to eye with the crowd, watching in the stands above me. I meet the furrowed brows and confused expressions of every single Fae watching me.
They think I’m stupid for sending that much light into the orb. They’re already turning away, writing me off as the dumb Mortal that’s going to draw the attention of someone who will happily come kill me.
I don’t care what they think of me, though.
Let them come.
Let the Fae come and meet the Huntress of Velia.
Ultimately, it isn’t Seraphina or Mara who eventually emerges from one of the dark pathways. It’s Elise. The memory-wielder.
Her dark hair is tied back tightly, leaving her pointed ears clearly on display. She’s bleeding from shallow cuts around her arms, likely from thorns or some other manner of chaos that the maze holds hidden in its depths.
When she approaches, I don’t even bother rising from where I sit, leaning against the fountain. She subtly glances at the dagger I twirl effortlessly between my fingertips.
“You’re not who I was hoping for,” I tell her, barely recognizing my own hardened voice.
She looks at me as if I’m out of my mind, and maybe I am. Maybe I always have been. Maybe madness is the price for all the souls I’ve taken.
Elise is broader than Seraphina and Mara both, muscle packed on her biceps and thighs, but she’s not much taller than me, and she’s not carrying nearly as many weapons. Just a bow and arrow and a dagger on her hip.
She must be pretty deadly with that bow and arrow if that’s all she brought in here.
“If you know what’s good for you, Mortal, you’ll leave that orb where it is and run.”
A laugh escapes me, the sound dark and menacing. “Why would I do that?”
She looks me up and down. “Because you’re not the kind of person who can kill. You’re better off taking your chances at running. The maze will certainly be kinder to you than some of my people will be.”
That darkness in my soul grows, expanding with a sense of inevitability. It’s been kept on a leash for too long, and it’s ready for release. Ready to finally claim another victim. “You have no idea how capable I am of violence.”
Elise stares at me, pulling an arrow from the sheath on her back and hooking it to her bow, aiming it at my heart. “Last warning. Run or I will end you.”
A beat of silence, tension hanging thickly in the air.
The charge of an impending fight dances across my skin.
I finally feel like I’m home.
“You’re going to try,” I whisper.
She releases the arrow, and I’m already moving, rolling through the air and throwing the dagger in my hand.
It buries itself in her thigh, and she sucks in a sharp gasp of air.
The orb in her hand falls, shattering, but mine is still as bright as the sun, illuminating the air around us as I sprint towards her.
Elise is attempting to hook another arrow, but I’m already upon her, shoving my fist into her nose and savoring the crack under my knuckles as I wrap my fingers around her bow and pull.
The fact that she’s caught off guard is the only reason I’m able to wrestle the bow away from her and snap it over my knee, but after the momentary hesitation, she jumps to alertness, punching into my stomach with enough Fae strength to make my lungs spasm.
Grunting, I stumble back, needing a second to regain my breathing, and she takes the pause to wipe away the tears from her eyes after my punch.
Her thigh is injured from my blade. She tries not to let it show, but I can see her favoring it.
I can tell she’s putting slightly more weight on the other side.
It gives me a sick satisfaction knowing I’ve caused that pain.
“Fighting me is pointless, you worthless Mortal.” She spits blood onto the ground at her feet as she unsheathes a blade on her hip.
Huh, hadn’t seen that there.
Elise runs forward, all speed and anger and absolutely no skill, the sight of her own blood making her unruly. Perhaps she didn’t expect a worthless Mortal to accomplish that.
I block her blow with my forearm, the force making me grind my teeth as I spin and drive my second blade deep into her back.
Elise roars.
Before I know it, she’s backed up a few steps and is kicking me with that unnatural strength.
My hair falls out of my braid as I go flying through the air before crashing violently into the fountain. The stone cracks against my back and crumbles, landing around me in the pool of still-warm water.
Fuck. That hurt.
My ribs might be broken.
It won’t be the first time if they are, though. Kristona broke my ribs himself at thirteen summers with a few well-aimed punches. He told me it was to prepare me for a moment like this. A moment when fighting through pain would be what it took to stay alive.
I snarl, pushing off the crumbling remains of the fountain to stand.
Only, the world is tilting and—
My ear is pressed against the wooden door, hands still trembling as I listen to every word of the conversation.
“There’s also the matter of the girl—his daughter,” Chesain says.
I hear my stepmother scoff, hear her heeled shoes pacing across the tiled floor of our home. “Put her out. She’s been nothing but a nuisance to me. I cannot bear to deal with her now.”
“She’s but a girl, ma’am. She’s only seen six summers.”
The air is frigid, but I’m not cold. I can’t feel anything. I can barely feel my own legs.
“If it eases your conscience, sell her to Madame Cruella, then. She will buy girls that young to train them, and at least she’ll make sure the girl is fed.”
The room is too small, too tight, my lungs constricting as I stumble backward.
I turn. Run.
Ringing in my ears is the only thing I’m aware of as the magic suddenly pulls away from me, leaving me stumbling backwards into the fountain once more as I blink back into awareness.
Elise’s laughter replaces the ringing. “Were you a whore in your Mortal lands?”
She’s clutching her side where my blade still hangs out of her, her eyes glazed over as she struggles to continue stepping towards me. I bare my teeth in disgust at the smell of her magic still filling the air.
Fucking memory-wielder.
I gasp, or try to—air is hard to pull in. It’s like breathing through cracked glass.
This time, I feel her magic in the seconds before the memory hits, but I’m helpless to fight back against the pull to the past.
“You want me to kill Christopher?” I whisper the words, hardly believing what I’ve been asked to do.
Kristona looks at me without mercy. His eyes are hardened and filled with anger. They have been since he barged into my room and found Christopher in my bed last week.
“It seems your lover owes quite a few people a lot of money. So, yes. I want you to take care of it.”
My chest feels hollow. I’ve always done everything Kristona has asked of me. I’ve always trusted him, listened to him, believed he would keep me safe even if no one else would.
But he’s never asked me to do something like this.
He’s never asked me to assassinate someone I know personally.
Someone I care for.
“I can’t do that,” I sputter.
He grabs my arm, pulling me from my seat so roughly my muscles protest against him. “You can, and you will. This is what I taught you to be, Huntyr Lachlan. If you wanted to be a whore, I could have sent you to Madame Cruella’s brothel. But you wanted to be a killer, and I made you one.”
My stomach heaves, pouring out its contents onto the ground.
“Stay the fuck out of my head!” I fling the words aimlessly, still struggling to come back to reality. My breathing is shallow, straining against the pain in my ribs.
“Dear Gods. Do they know what you are?” Elise is panting.
I know the Fae can see us. I know they’re watching, and Elise is one sentence away from exposing me.
“You have no idea what I am.”
I pull myself to my feet, hissing against the pain that flows from my side into every inch of my body. Blood is running down my forehead and chest from the cuts earned when the fountain stone crashed down upon me. Nausea threatens to overtake me once more, but I don't give in.
I don’t stop.
I can’t.
“How do you think Prince Derian will react when I tell him—”
I tackle her, throwing my weight forward, until we’re both falling to the ground. We’re on our knees in a second and I’m palming a dagger, launching it towards her face. She grabs my wrist, and I roll to the side. I toss the dagger in the air. Catch it. Shove it forward.
And pierce through her chest into her heart.
“You want to know what I am?” I whisper, wrapping my hand around the back of her head and pulling it towards me. “I’m something more than a worthless Mortal. I am something much, much darker.”
Her eyes search mine, and I can sense the tiniest sparks of her magic attempting to crawl over me as I twist the blade in deeper.
Her eyes go wide.
She gasps.
And then her eyes glaze over, and a final breath releases from her mouth.
I let go of her head, and she falls limp. Dead.
The second Fae I’ve managed to kill.
I roll my neck, pain sparking through me as the adrenaline from the fight fades. It’s so much worse than I initially thought. It takes all my strength to pick up my orb and stand.
But I do.
Even when my vision blacks out for a minute. Even when I realize there’s a jagged piece of stone sticking out of my stomach. Even when the feeling of trying to take another breath feels impossible.
I put one foot in front of the other.
And I walk out of the maze.