CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Garrick had one knife in his palm instantly, shoving another into my hand. His voice was a low warning growl. “It’s not yet fully dark, but...”
I nodded. There was no mistaking the sound of demon claws, or the creeping feeling of dread consuming me. But I was also the one whose magic could resist such a creature, and whose blood could disarm one. Steeling myself, I pushed forward past Garrick.
“Starlight...”
Ignoring him, I reached the nearest corner, pressing myself against the wall to peer around the bend and into the next hallway. My stomach lurched, and I had to fight not to lose its contents right then and there. The scent of blood assaulted me first, and then the horrific sight: a hunched creature with countless inhuman eyes and a gaping, bloody maw tearing into a fae’s ruined corpse. Gore and innards spilled across the plush carpet as the creature feasted. Its pincered limbs, ending in enormous pointed claws, reached out to claw along the exposed stone of the hallway. Scrape, scrape, scrape.
Garrick’s hand brushed against my arm, the warmth seeping through my shirtsleeve. Blinking dazedly, I glanced over my shoulder at him, trying to clear my thoughts when raw terror threatened to drag me under. He leaned so close to me his breath tickled my ear, his mouth almost brushing against my lobe. “Demons like this one don’t behave like the one you fought. They often escape and work in groups. This one may be baiting us while another lies in wait.”
I drew back. A new emotion was consuming me, swiftly overtaking my nerves. Fury. I didn’t know the demon’s victim, and most of the fae in Silverfrost were strangers to me. Some would gladly see me killed or imprisoned. I owed them no allegiance, no love. And yet, seeing the horror this underworld creature was inflicting, with Preston and Nerissa nowhere near to stop it, made my blood heat. Maybe they’d been hailed as heroes when they’d first rescued this kingdom, but they seemed rather careless about protecting it now. Whatever most of this land’s inhabitants thought of me, there were some who cared. Some, like Aspen, who were good. Who had waited for me, loyal and determined.
And for these people to be preyed upon like this? Slaughtered in the most vicious, awful of ways? It wasn’t right.
I set my jaw, palming the knife Garrick had given me. “Then I’ll give them my own distraction.” Worry flickered in Garrick’s gold eyes, but before he could protest, I added, “Do you have my back?”
He dipped his head. “Until I draw my final breath.”
Pressing the tip of the blade into my palm, I sliced a shallow cut and stepped into the corridor where the demon was. Squeezing my hand into a fist and lifting it into the air, I let my blood spill in droplets along the carpet.
Sniffing, the demon straightened, turning slowly so its countless eyes—black and beady and soulless—glared at me. Gore dripped from its open maw, full of endless rows of razor-sharp teeth. My stomach roiled, but I held my ground, letting the creature scent my blood.
Its pupils dilated, darkening its eyes even further, but a crash behind me warned me a second demon was emerging, charging with impossible speed from another room. I didn’t turn, didn’t waver. Just before the new demon could leap upon me, a wolf’s snarl pierced the air. A flash of white darted in my peripheral as Garrick collided with the monster, snapping his teeth mercilessly.
With an enraged roar, the demon before me charged, claws slamming into the carpet. The floor shuddered.
I wondered where the guards were, where Preston and Nerissa were. The castle had never seemed so quiet—as if everyone else had hidden or evacuated, leaving these creatures to sew their chaos.
Gritting my teeth, I sent ice crackling beneath the creature’s feet. Its claws scrabbled for purchase on the slick surface, scraping in a high-pitched whine that made my ears ache. As it lost control, sliding straight for me, I sidestepped, only extending my bloody palm over it.
It wasn’t a lot of blood, only a drop, but as it splattered across the demon’s hideous face, a burst of light flared and it squealed in pain. Feeling victorious, I lifted my knife to slam it into one of its eyes, but the beast swiped out with one of its long limbs. Not slicing with its claws, but pommeling me with the blunt side of its leg, knocking me off my feet. The knife flew from my grasp, sliding across the carpet.
Breath knocked out of me, I reeled, struggling for air. The demon darted forward, hemming me in with its claws stabbing into the floor on either side of me. I choked as it loomed above me, maw dripping hot blood across the front of my dress. The stench of copper and rot consumed me as I finally heaved in air, my lungs burning.
Trapped again, crowed the creature inside my mind, its words low and slippery. The invasion was uncomfortable, sending spikes of pain through my head. Poor little human.
As it spoke, the world shifted, until instead of the castle ceiling high overhead, cloaked in shadow, I saw the bars of a rusty cage climbing around me. It had no doors, and the surface I stood upon was littered with broken, yellowed bones that crunched beneath my feet.
My chest tightened in panic.
Your freedom is forever out of reach.
Distantly, as if he spoke through a wall, Garrick’s voice sounded. “Starlight! It’s a trick! Ren! It’s not real!”
Though my head understood what was actually happening—the demon had locked me in a vision displaying one of my nightmares—I couldn’t dispel it. Couldn’t fully convince my mind that what looked and felt so real beneath my palms was a lie. The cool metal was unyielding, the rough edges of rust scraping at my skin.
Beyond my cage, Preston stood, surveying me with a gloating expression, his red eyes piercing. He opened his mouth, filling the air with the reek of death. I own you.
“Ren!” Garrick’s tone was desperate. Pleading.
It made me tear my gaze from Preston, choosing by some instinct to look up instead. The bars of my cage extended on and on, but overhead, there was a window letting in the cold light of a winter’s night. My thoughts snagged on this realization as I stared at countless silver stars. Stars.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I poured every ounce of my energy into visualizing my magic pouring out of me. Into imagining the power and light that resided in my very blood repulsing these creatures that tried to prey on me. With a cry, I opened my eyes and the demon was before me once more, leaning forward to tear into my throat with its wicked teeth.
I slammed my bleeding palm against its eyes. Again and again. Light flashed, almost blinding in the dim corridor. Screeching, the monster reeled backward, writhing in misery.
Lurching to my feet, I found Garrick back in his fae form and already at my side, my lost, bloodied knife in his hand. Behind us, the other demon hissed and struggled on the floor, pinned by its throat with Garrick’s other blade. I called on my magic again as the demon before us gathered itself, preparing to launch. Ice, I thought, pleading for the weak threads of my power to conjure something more than frost. Thick, black ice that would encapsulate the demon and root it to the spot.
But the ice that formed at its clawed legs cracked and shattered almost instantly, brittle as glass. The demon jumped—higher than two men were tall—and Garrick seized my arm, forcing me back with him as he hurled his knife for its open maw. His blade struck true, but as the creature landed, it growled and lunged again, barely slowed by the pain.
Steel screamed as Garrick drew the sword strapped to his back. He moved with grace and strength, parrying the clawed strikes from the demon in a deadly dance while I focused on my magic again, trying to find a way to slow the monster—at least enough that I could draw close and use my blood against it.
But my thoughts distracted me. I didn’t hear the second demon finally pry itself free, the knife squelching from its ruined throat. Not until it was too late. A shock of pain lanced along my back as it sliced its claws through the back of my tunic and into flesh.
I screamed, sprawling across the floor. Blackness danced along my vision.
And then—the sound of snapping bones. The sickly-sweet stench of decay. The low, careless laughter that always made disgust skitter across my skin like countless invisible insects.
“Couldn’t even overcome two little demons?” Preston taunted.
I lifted my head, back burning. My vision was blurred, my eyes watering from the pain and obscuring my view of the pale-faced king as he stalked forward. With a snap of his fingers, guards emerged from the shadows, restraining and shackling the demon Preston’s death magic had immobilized with countless broken bones. Others released Garrick from his solitary struggle with the second, chaining it too.
“Pathetic, but what else would I expect from a mortal and a dog?”
Garrick wasn’t under Preston’s control, for he stepped forward, slamming his fist into Preston’s face. The king stepped back, blood trickling from his split lip. Horrified to see what sort of retaliation he’d inflict on Garrick, I opened my mouth to distract him, but Preston only laughed.
With a jerk of his chin, he turned Garrick’s attention to me. “You were supposed to ensure the mortal didn’t needlessly spill her blood.”
“Starlight,” Garrick breathed as he whirled around, taking in my injuries. He rushed to my side, crouching and cradling me in his arms despite being in Preston’s presence. “Where’s Aspen?” he demanded, his tone laced with a threat he unfortunately couldn’t inflict. “Send for her at once.”
Preston rolled his eyes. “So dramatic. Florentia won’t die, fragile as humans are. I’ll escort her to her rooms. You find Aspen.”
Garrick’s arms tightened around me before abruptly going slack. I knew in that moment, without turning my head to study his expression, that Garrick was locked under Preston’s control. He couldn’t stay by my side no matter how much he willed it. Standing stiffly, he bowed and trudged off, leaving me alone with the foul king.
My heart throbbed in my throat as I forced myself to stand, the world shifting around me. Cool air teased my bare back, a sharp contrast to the hot blood soaking the shredded fabric of my dress.
Preston snapped his fingers again as if I were another of his guards to be ordered about. “This way. It’s unlikely there are more demons, but this close to solstice, one can’t be too sure. Especially since the ones roaming this far from the entrance prove our guards were killed again. We’ve had to replace them so many times.”
I scowled as I staggered behind him, struggling to keep up. But my voice was strong. “Where were you? If this happens often, if these creatures kill your own people this regularly, then surely you, one of the heroes of Silverfrost, should be guarding the entrance yourself all night long.”
Faster than I could blink, Preston had turned on me, shoving me against the wall. I choked on a feeble cry as my wounds came into contact with the rough tapestry behind me, staining it with my blood. “Do kings toil as slaves? Do gods stoop to work as servants?”
I slammed my teeth together to keep them from chattering, either from shock setting in or my fear.
Without waiting for an answer I would not give, Preston went on. “No, my fiancée. They do not, and neither do my sister and I.”
As he released me, I trailed after him, slowly ascending a flight of steps. Each movement sent more stabs of pain through my body. My back throbbed. For one delirious moment, I nearly dissolved into laughter as I wondered if these new wounds had peeled away the bandage covering my old one. If these fresh claw marks would ruin the mark Preston had so diligently forced Garrick to carve into me. If so, what a strange sort of victory that would be over this disgusting excuse of a man. Of a king.
Somehow, despite my fear of him and my mounting pain, the fire in my blood wouldn’t be quenched. Once I’d easily curbed myself, remaining silent and meek to avoid notice whenever I could. Now I was struggling to be quiet. The injustice of Preston and Nerissa’s reign was eating me alive, and a newfound passion was growing in me for this land. Perhaps not for its people, little more than strangers to me, but for the magic that bound me to it and to them. For the memory of the family I’d never met; for the fae father who’d fallen in love with a mortal woman and died saving both her and me. And for right to win over all the wrongdoings the siblings had committed over the years.
It burned and burned until we were outside my door. The posted guards saluted Preston, and the action set my teeth on edge. He didn’t deserve it.
I couldn’t stop my tongue. “You think yourself so much better than the people you send off to die in battle, or the guards you post to protect this very castle? But what would you be without them? King over nothing. You have not earned their loyalty, not with your mistreatment of them. No wonder that archer tried to kill you. You are nothing but a coward.”
Preston cocked his head, and in the dimness, with nothing but flickering candlelight from the sconces on the walls to cast a glow across his face, his sharp features made him look nearly skeletal. “I suppose you think that offends me.” He stepped closer. “You think insults from a feeble human, one who will die and be forgotten while I continue on for endless ages, will trouble me? You, who nearly perished tonight trying to fend off that demon?” His smirk was cruel. “The undead of the underworld love to feed on life, to taste it, to claim a bit for themselves. But I wonder if, had that demon tasted you, it would have realized you were hardly more alive than it to begin with?” He reached around, miming the act of tracing a finger through the blood soaking my back. When he lifted that finger to his lips, pretending to lick it clean, my stomach roiled. The mere idea of him tasting my blood disgusted me. Preston sneered. “Your mortal blood is entirely revolting.”
Without another word, he yanked open the door to my rooms and shoved me inside.
“Hopefully Aspen can cure your mortal body enough to function through the work you have ahead of you in a few days,” he went on. “Though I suppose all we truly need is your blood. Oh, and clean yourself up. You stink of dog.”
“You stink of death,” I retorted.
Preston merely laughed, the sound echoing in the corridor as he slammed my door shut.