Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
T he sun never set in Adraeis. At least, it hadn’t in the time I’d been here. The golden glow of dusk was my constant companion, gilding the leaves of the laurel trees that grew along the bank and turning the river into a glittering stream of diamonds.
It was impossible to tell day from night. The only way I knew how much time had passed was by the increasingly persistent snarl of hunger in my belly.
I slept. I trained. I returned to my bedchamber, tossing a scowl at Adriel before slamming the door in his face.
I sharpened my blades and tore apart my luxurious prison, examining everything from the array of linen garments hanging in the armoire to the decadent attached bathing chamber whose window overlooked a courtyard garden four stories below.
Bracing my hands on the sill, I leaned forward — far enough to feel the slight tingle of magic hum against my skin. The enchantment that kept out the wind and rain, no doubt. But would it keep a person in ?
Would I be better off finding a way to escape this wretched place than plotting Kaden’s death?
I dismissed the notion almost at once.
My hunter blood hummed with a murderous need — sang for Kaden’s demise.
I had been born to slay the monsters. I could not walk away.
Setting my dagger on the edge of the tub, I contemplated how I might kill him without my witchwood blade. As far as I knew, it wasn’t possible. But there had to be a way.
The fading sunlight beaming through the window was pleasantly warm on my sweat-chilled skin, so I drew myself a bath, stripped out of my training clothes, and sank into the deep stone tub.
The hot water soothed my aching muscles and eased the knot of tension between my shoulder blades. Lying back, I had a perfect view of the river and the swell of darkness in the distance that bloomed like a bruise on the horizon.
Dorthus. The demon kingdom.
Grabbing a bar of strange-looking black soap from the edge of the tub, I dunked it under the water and began scrubbing the grime from my skin.
It smelled faintly of charred cedar and night, along with something exotic and spicy that reminded me of the laurel-scented breeze wafting in through the open windows.
My skin heated, and my stomach clenched. My traitorous body remembered that smell — remembered whom it belonged to.
Swearing loudly, I chucked the bar of soap across the bathing chamber and dunked my hands underwater, scrubbing furiously at my skin to rid myself of Kaden’s scent.
A soft knock interrupted my stream of curses, and I froze .
Adriel .
I opened my mouth to tell him to fuck off but decided against it. Perhaps he’d reconsidered his ultimatum. Perhaps not. In any case, I knew it would be infinitely more satisfying to slam the door in his face.
Hauling myself out of the tub, I dried quickly and donned a soft linen robe. I snatched my dagger from the windowsill and flung open the door, half a dozen expletives already burning on my tongue.
But the male standing outside my door bore no resemblance to the tall, surly Morkahlf . In his place stood a creature I’d never seen before.
While his upper half was clearly male, even that wasn’t entirely human. Pointed ears protruded from a mop of tight auburn curls, along with twin horns that curled toward the back of his head. The creature had rosy cheeks, an upturned nose, and small, wide-set eyes with horizontal pupils.
His torso was bare, except for a rust-colored vest. Fine tendrils of curly hair spilled from the V in the fabric, which matched the silky chestnut fur sprouting from his legs.
A goat. That was what his lower half reminded me of. He even stood on two cloven feet, which shuffled nervously over the smooth stone floor.
In his arms, he clutched a tray of food, and my stomach gurgled loudly.
The creature made a fussy little noise in his throat, and I dragged my gaze back to his face. “Can I help —”
“Shh!” he hissed, those eerie eyes darting back and forth. “Get inside. Quickly!”
Tightening my grip on my dagger, I backed into the room, keeping a safe distance from the male. The tray rattled as he followed me inside, shutting the door with one of his hooves.
“I’m not supposed to do this,” the little creature fretted with a nervous glance at the door. “Master Adriel will have me flogged if he learns I’d disobeyed his orders, but . . .” He pursed his lips. “You must be hungry.”
“Starving,” I admitted, my chest squeezing at the thought of the creature taking such a risk.
My gaze slid once again to the tray he’d brought. It was heaped with all manner of delectable-looking foods that instantly made my mouth water: salty cured meats, fine cheeses, fresh grapes, olives, fluffy round pastries, tea, and half a loaf of bread.
Setting the tray on the edge of the bed, the creature gracefully extended one cloven hoof and slid into a deep bow. “Freydolf, faun serving the House of Perpetual Twilight, formerly Freydolf of the Broken Briar, most humbly at your service.”
“Lyra,” I said, skin prickling uncomfortably at the faun’s formality. “Huntress . . . formerly of the Blood Quarter.”
It felt strange introducing myself that way. By my estimation, it had been more than a week since Kaden had brought me to Adraeis. All I’d wanted at first was to go back to the mortal realm, but now I realized that, even if he kept his promise, I had no intention of returning to the Quarter.
“Oh, I know who you are, m’lady,” said Freydolf. “I’ve heard all about you. You’re the first of your kind to pass through here in quite some time.”
I raised my eyebrows. “By ‘your kind,’ do you mean the first huntress, or . . .” I trailed off. It seemed rude to say, “the first person who isn’t halfway to dead,” but Freydolf seemed to catch my meaning .
“The first huntress, m’lady.” He gestured to the rickety-looking table in invitation, but I was too hungry to stand on ceremony.
I gave a noncommittal hum and sat down on the bed, popping a piece of green-marbled cheese into my mouth before tearing off a hunk of bread.
It smelled so fresh I nearly groaned. The outer crust was firm and crisp, while the inside was soft and fluffy. Its sour taste was a perfect complement to the sweet-cream butter, which I slathered on with the blade of a cheese knife.
Growing up, I’d been warned about the dangers of consuming faerie food, but we weren’t in Anvalyn, and Freydolf wasn’t fae. Besides that, I was likely to starve to death if I refused all sustenance while I was here.
The faun watched me with an expression of scandalized amusement as I shoved another chunk of bread into my mouth. He offered me one of the little round pastries, and it took all my willpower not to inhale the food like a wild animal.
Once I’d eased the gnawing ache in my belly, I accepted the shallow teacup Freydolf offered me and wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my robe. The clay cup was comfortable in my hand, and the tea was a fragrant, slightly floral brew.
“You’re not like the others,” I observed, regarding him curiously over the rim of my cup.
Freydolf gave me a sad smile. “I did not stop here on my way to the Otherworld, m’lady. I am not . . .”
“Dead?”
He grimaced. “I prefer to think of the souls who reside here as travelers on the great voyage of existence.”
I cocked an eyebrow.
“Some of them would like to return from whence they came, though sadly, that is not possible. Others fear what lies ahead, so they have stopped and stayed.”
“And you?” I probed. “You aren’t, uh . . . traveling .”
Freydolf’s face fell, and he busied himself with buttering a piece of the delicious crusty bread.
“No, m’lady. I came to Adraeis seeking asylum, along with many of my kind.
The Ravaging destroyed great swaths of Broken Briar, including my cozy hollow.
Any fauns who survived became refugees, not welcome on the king’s lands. ”
I frowned. I assumed he meant the faerie king, not Semphrys.
“We made the perilous journey through the Barrens of Dorthus to seek asylum with the Dark Prince. Not many fauns would make such a choice, but with no woodlands for shelter . . .” He sighed. “We are forced to make our homes in the unlikeliest of places.”
My chest tightened with sympathy for the faun. I knew what it was like not to have a home, to feel unwanted no matter where I went.
“Why would you seek asylum here ?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t find my question offensive.
From what I’d been told, Adraeis was not a land for the living. Despite the pleasant climate and the beautiful landscape, there was an eerie stuckness to the place where time moved slowly and the sun never set.
And then there was Kaden. I couldn’t imagine why any creature would put themselves at the mercy of the demon prince.
Freydolf gave me a peculiar look, but then his expression cleared in understanding. “Ah, forgive me, m’lady. I forget y’are not from the faerie realm, and as a result, do not know our history. ”
I waited, popping another bit of cheese into my mouth. It wasn’t any sort of cheese I was familiar with. It was the color of buttermilk and had a mild, almost nutty flavor.
“The Dark Prince is half Drathen, you see. His mother was Queen Elowynn, who united the faerie peoples. After the death of her husband, the king’s brother led a campaign to convince her people that Elowynn’s so-called infidelity had brought a curse upon their lands.”
My stomach twisted. Kaden’s mother hadn’t been unfaithful. She’d been raped by the demon king and forced to bear his child.
“Cursebringer, they called her, after the blight that plagued our lands,” Freydolf spat.
“Once Alfrigg came into power, the Drathen fae were driven out of Athelby, the royal seat. The Euroshean army raided their villages, set fire to their homes, destroyed their shops . . . The dark fae were all but exterminated from the region of Aerdale. Some settled in the foothills of the Oranthan Mountains, but most are little better than refugees themselves.”
I frowned as I absorbed that grim bit of history. When Kaden had brought me to Caladwyn’s party, none of the other fae had bothered to hide their disdain for the bastard prince, but I hadn’t realized just how deep that hatred for the Drathen fae ran.
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
Freydolf sighed. “Since the Ravaging tore through Broken Briar, nearly three hundred years ago.”
“Three hundred years?” I repeated, staring at the faun in disbelief.
“Of course, time passes differently here, so it’s felt like much longer than that.”
He gave a low chuckle, and I realized he was laughing at the horrified look on my face.
“Don’t fret for me, m’lady. All a faun needs to be happy is a quiet hollow, sweet music, and some truly delectable cheeses.
” He gestured at the spread before me. “That one is a very nice buttercurd. Try it with a bit of that spicy sausage.”
I did as he suggested, unable to shake the sorrow I felt for the kind faun who’d been driven from his home.
“Do you think you’ll ever return?” I asked. “To Broken Briar, I mean.”
“One day, perhaps. If the magic ever returns to our land.”
“And what about me?” I asked, the mild, salty cheese turning to a lump in my mouth. “Kaden said the river flows in both directions. Could I . . . Could I just go back?”
At my words, Freydolf’s bushy chestnut eyebrows shot up in alarm, and a shudder racked his small frame.
“Oh, no, m’lady. The Adraeis River may look peaceful enough, but there is nothing but eternal suffering to be found in its depths.
Even those of us who reside in the House of Perpetual Twilight dare not drink from those waters, nor do we put in along its banks.
Only his lordship, the Ferryman, may make passage along the river without meeting a terrible end. ”
I chewed this over, wondering if the faun was merely trying to discourage me. Freydolf held out a piece of buttered bread smeared with a vibrant magenta jam. “It’s fickleberry,” he said. “Made it meself.”
Pressing my lips together to hide my smile, I took the piece of bread and bit into it. The jam was delightfully tart, though it grew sweeter as the sugars dissolved on my tongue.
“Can I ask you something else?”
“Anything, m’lady. ”
“Why do you serve him? Kaden, I mean. He is the demon prince.”
Freydolf’s expression turned solemn. “I beg your pardon, m’lady. But to those who reside here, he is the Ferryman and lord of this house.”
“The Taker of Souls, you mean.”
The faun scoffed. “Such a name dishonors his lordship. What he has taken —” Freydolf broke off. “We do not speak of it.”
“The blight that’s befallen Anvalyn is a direct result of the souls he stole to satisfy his father’s greed. Doesn’t that make you angry?”
Freydolf shook his head, looking suddenly flustered. “My feelings are of little consequence. I am merely a faun serving this house. As for his lordship, I would not presume to —”
“How can you serve a master who destroyed your home?”
“The House of Perpetual Twilight is my home.”
Freydolf’s tone left no room for argument.
“He killed my mother,” I said quietly. “Kidnapped her and took her to Dorthus because of what she was. What I am. I am the last witch of my line, and he . . . used me.” My throat constricted. “He wants me to kill his father so that he can take the throne.”
Placing his hands over his heart, the faun bowed his head.
“My heart breaks for the loss of your mother, m’lady.
I know his lordship is keeping you here against your will, but I have known him since he was a youngling.
I have watched him suffer at the hands of both faerie and demon.
I was there when the False King’s mob murdered Her Majesty, and I have seen the pain it has caused his lordship to watch the scourge spread across his kingdom. ”
He paused. “Though demon blood runs through his veins, he is Elowynn’s heir and the one true king of Anvalyn. He does not make decisions out of greed or any consideration of his own desires. If his lordship is demanding your help, it is not for himself, but for those under his protection.”
“He’s a despicable bastard,” I muttered. “Deceitful, arrogant, conniving —”
“He may be,” said Freydolf, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But take care, m’lady. For the bastard prince will one day be your king.”