Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
“There’s our destination ahead.”
The stall looked as if it had grown here in the night market.
A tangle of black limbs grew from the cobblestones, arching together to form a crooked frame.
Strips of faded animal hide hung from the branches like curtains, shifting in a breeze that didn’t touch the rest of the market.
The air around it smelled sharply of crushed herbs and something sickeningly sweet.
Inside, shelves buckled beneath jars of preserved things: floating hearts, shriveled flowers that bled color into their liquid prisons, bones inscribed with runes that glowed faintly.
Bundles of plants dangled overhead, their shadows twitching against the lantern light, as though something small and hungry moved among the leaves.
I didn’t see the shopkeeper at first, because my gaze was drawn to the cage above us.
Though the music was lost here to the buzz of voices bargaining, the mortal in the cage danced.
Strands of her hair clung to the sweat beaded across her face, but she didn’t notice.
Her eyes were unfocused, her movements mechanical.
The vendor sat behind a low counter carved from a single slab of stone, its surface stained by splatters that shone like they weren’t quite dry. Her fingers were long and yellowed at the nails, deft as she twisted stems together. “Well, Fieran. I knew you’d come soon.”
“Oh? How’s that?” Fear sounded casual, but he’d stepped in front of me, our hands still linked. There was something intimate about being this close. I twisted to look behind us, feeling a creeping sense up my spine, and let him shield me while I watched our backs.
“I can’t make any bargains with you, Fieran.”
“Why is that?”
“You’ve been blacklisted from the market.”
“You and I have done quite a bit of business in the past.”
“But not tonight.”
Was Fieran the one who had blacklisted himself? Was this how he proved to me that he’d tried, but he wasn’t able to help Tay—so that he could both be in my good graces and keep Tay as his hostage?
There was a shuffling sound of slippers. Fear turned as she tried to peek around to see me, her eyes glinting hungrily.
“Is this your mortal girl?” She sounded covetous, and anxious disgust shot through me, strong enough to make me want to hide behind Fieran.
He let out a faint huff of disbelief. “Yes, mine. You find her tempting enough to consider risking disobedience, don’t you? So why not do me the favor for a different—better—prize?”
Fieran’s arm settled around my shoulders, drawing me into his side with casual possessiveness. The second when he released my hand to change our positions felt charged to me, as if the air around us changed. I leaned against his side, driven closer to him than I wanted to admit.
Her gaze sharpened, not missing any of the closeness—or tension—between us. “Oh, there could be no better prize.”
“She’s not for sale.” He pulled me back into the hallway.
“Not yet.” Her sharp laughter followed us. “But your affection never lasts longer than your ambitions!”
“I’m not your mortal girl,” I hissed at him, irritated by the way my body responded to him even as I put my palm against his hard side and pushed myself away from him—though I still intended to hold his hand.
I merely tried to put as much space as I could between me and that accusation that I was his.
A mortal girl writhed in a cage above—in the same endless pattern, as if she were obeying some series of orders unendingly—with dull eyes. Her gaze seemed to stutter for a second, staring down at us. Hatred flashed across her face.
For me.
Then she was back to dipping one hip, stroking her hands up her arms before she raised them in the air, undulating her hips, all with the same blank smile on her face.
“You are when we’re here,” he muttered back to me, his arm a steel band around my body, even though he was smiling. “You might not appreciate me, but I assure you that you should appreciate my protection.”
“You don’t seem very powerful down here.”
“I am. I’m just not the most powerful.” He was still smiling, and I gave up on escaping his grip. I didn’t want to draw attention to us. “However, I do know of a seedier place where more favors can be made.”
“Seedier than this?”
“Does it offend your sensibilities, or do you want to go with me?” He reached across his body to catch my arm, released me from his grip around my shoulders, and re-tethered our hands.
His movements were quick and easy, but he’d kept us in contact the entire time, as if he’d also felt the split-second of distance as wrong.
I didn’t hesitate to twine my fingers through his, our palms pressing together.
“I want to go.”
He was still smiling, but it became real, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. I knew it was a joke at my expense even before he said, “And so you do know you’re under my protection, don’t you?”
“For now. As long as you need something from me.”
“As long as that lasts,” he agreed.
“Where do we go now?”
“I know—” He broke off suddenly. Fieran’s expression just barely shifted. I wasn’t sure why I was certain of a change in him, only that I was.
“Time for us to tuck you back into bed at the barracks,” he said, pulling me with him toward the gate we’d come through. “I can’t fly until we get through the portal.”
“Through the portal?”
“We’re in the night market,” he said, very helpful in his explanation.
“I know that, Fieran.”
“We’re not in our realm anymore.”
“That’s the part that’s new and troubling—”
Fieran reeled me back into his arms, and turned us effortlessly. I was inconveniently reminded of how light I was to him as he propelled me quickly in a new direction. I wasn’t sure what he had seen, but I didn’t glance over my shoulder.
“Don’t let go of my hand.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I caught a glimpse of dark-uniformed Fae headed toward us purposefully through the crowd before he pulled me to the side and kept going.
“Who are we running from, Fieran?”
“We might have to go out a different gate.”
“What is it you don’t want to tell me now?” I demanded in exasperation. “Fear. Tell me why we’re running. I can help.”
“I know you can. I believe in your capabilities.” He pulled me back, the two of us starting in a new direction.
“But you won’t—”
“I already explained why I can’t trust you.” He winked at me. “But I’d do anything to protect you.”
Then he turned, and he was facing a dozen Fae soldiers. He still clasped my hand in his, and I tried to pull away so he could fight with two hands if needed, but he wouldn’t let go.
They wore all black. It took a second for my mind to connect current reality and childhood fairytales.
I’d never seen the Nightwalkers before, but I’d heard stories about them growing up.
Mortals who saw them rarely survived the night.
“Fieran,” I said urgently, wanting to help him but having no idea. If he killed a Nightwalker, we were done for. Their vengeance was legendary.
“Please come with us.” The leader Nightwalker held his sword in one hand and held out an appeasing hand with the other. “No need for a fight.”
“When I let go of you, run for the portal. I got us close. It’s just down that alley and to your left.” Fear’s voice was as calm as ever. “My clan will come find you.”
“What about the Nightwalkers?”
He flashed me a smile that was half his usual cocky, relaxed self and half the terrifying nightmare. “They’ll be busy.”
“Let’s just go with them peacefully,” I said, keeping my fingers wrapped around his as he released me. “If you fight them, they’ll kill you.”
He seemed unconcerned. “Dairen will still make sure Tay is healed. He promised me.”
Why was he talking about Dairen? It took me a confused split second to understand. He thought I didn’t care about his life, that I was just focused on what his death meant for my brother, asleep in his house.
“Stop talking and come with us!” the Nightwalker said impatiently.
“I’m not just worried about what happens to Tay if you die.”
“Cara.” He gave me a grin like there weren’t a dozen heavily armed Fae inching closer. “I’m touched.”
More loudly, to them, he said, “Please let us pass.”
“You don’t seem to have a good grasp of the odds,” I muttered, keenly aware that they would cut him down and then me for being with him.
“You don’t seem to have a good grasp of who I am. Are you going to go or not?” Fieran produced his sword from over his shoulder in a burst of golden light.
And then, still holding my hand, keeping me close, he lashed out at the Fae in front of us. The first Nightwalker fell with a startled grunt, his sword clattering against the cobblestones. Fieran was already on to the next, moving with fluid grace, reeling me with him as if we were dancing.
The Nightwalkers pressed in with their midnight black blades and tight, stoic expressions. Blades flashed around us like dark lightning, but never struck either of us.
Fieran twisted, disarmed, and cut in one motion, the next Nightwalker collapsing before he even realized he’d been hit.
Another lunged from the side. Fieran threw his sword upward and in one smooth move, caught the blade with his bare hand, blood spilling down his fingers, and pushed the Fae away—before he caught his own sword again and drove it through the man’s chest while he was stumbling backward. With bloody fingers, he kept striking.
“Go, Cara.” His voice was inhumanly calm, just like his blade. His sword cut one more Nighwalker down who made the mistake of darting—wide eyed and terrified—between us and the alley. Then we were running.
We were almost to the portal when Fieran stumbled, jerking me along with him. I whirled to see a thrown blade in his side. The Nightwalkers were still behind us, further away. He fell to his knees, almost ripping his grip from mine.
I refused to let go. My fingers clenched harder, slippery with his blood.
“Come on,” I hissed, tugging at him, heart hammering against my ribs. “Get up.”
His bright gaze met mine. He rose, moving on as if the steel jutting from his side was nothing but an inconvenience.
But in front of us, blocking the portal, were the dark figures of a dozen more Nightwalkers. Other Nightwalkers pressed behind us, the remnant of their forces.
Beyond us, at the portal, bright light flared. I threw my arm over my eyes, blinking spots from my vision.
I opened my stinging eyes as the light subsided into a figure.
The Nightwalkers bowed their heads as one.
She was unearthly beautiful, terrifyingly so. Taller than any Nightwalker, inhumanly thin with long spider’s legs, sheathed in fluid blue light. Her face glowed, her silver hair swaying around her in thick, impossible waves that fell almost to the floor.
Her eyes fixed on me—on me—and I fought a sudden weakness in my knees, an urge to kneel. Those golden eyes seemed to contain a whole galaxy of blinding bright stars, and they were mesmerizing. I was lost in them.
The Fae Queen.
Fieran squeezed my hand, bringing me back to myself. To the guards who had moved to surround us, to the sound of Fieran’s blood dripping steadily into a pool. We were going to die. I was rooted to the ground, frozen like a fawn.
Then I dared a glance at him. Her light reflected off his face, off those hard lines and angles, off the mad, careless smile that wrote itself over his lips. He was lit with gold.
His hand tightened on mine, and I tensed, ready to drop and reach for my boot knife if he made a move. The odds seemed impossible, but he was the most impossible man I’d ever met.
Instead, he raised his free hand, palms out, in mocking surrender.
“Hello, Mother.”