Chapter 33
Horses are death machines.
Nothing could have prepared me for the sheer terror of riding one of the magnificent creatures. Every time I watched Lev atop Giles—one hand on the reins, the other lifted in a carefree wave—I had no idea how terrifying it actually is.
I clutch Moonlight’s reins until my knuckles turn white as we gallop away from the stables. Anton said she was docile, too old for battle, which is why the soldiers left her behind. But every jolt of her powerful muscles up my spine reminds me how easy it would be for her to toss me off.
The wind rips at my hair as she hurtles forward. My stomach lurches with each bounding stride. Few Verdanthians roam the streets, but those who do gape as we thunder past.
The leather squeaks from the tightness of my grip.
How many of my neighbors knew I was in that cell? How many knew what was happening to me?
If I could meet their eyes without falling off the saddle, would I find guilt? Remorse?
“The tree line is up ahead!” Silas shouts.
Hyde, the midnight stallion beneath him, eats up the road, his beautiful body rippling with strength. He’s the finest horse in Verdanthia, and he’s also General Ironheart’s.
If I weren’t so terrified, I’d laugh and imagine the general’s fury when he finds his prized stallion stolen. As it is, I can’t do more than smirk, the subtle amusement fading the moment Silas turns in his saddle and locks me in his stare.
“Once we’re in the forest,” he says, voice hard as steel, “keep your head down and trust the horse to follow a safe path.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and nod. His jaw tightens with his assessing stare before he finally turns back around.
I release the breath I’ve been holding. I wish Anton were leading me to the camp.
He may have deceived everyone about his true nature, but the hints of regret I glimpsed back in the cell were real. I still trust him…for the most part.
But Anton isn’t with us. He’s escorting Juniper to safety. Then he claims he has something to do before he can join us in the clearing.
So, here I am, following the human rebel who’s actually a Fae in disguise, praying to the Goddess Olyra that she will weave fate in our favor, and that we aren’t too late to stop the tragedy that’s about to unfold.
What in the hells am I doing?
I’m not sure anymore. But it’s too late to turn back now.
I duck my head low, and we crash into the trees. I tense, prepared for Moonlight to balk at the forest’s cursed scent, but she plunges after Hyde without hesitation, hooves drumming the earth.
Branches scratch my face. My filthy nightgown snags and tears. Blood trickles into my eyes. I blink over and over, too afraid of releasing the reins to wipe the stinging liquid away.
Magic stirs, rising to my skin, clotting and smoothing the scratches along my face.
Thank you.
The power gives a little swirl over my cheek, then dives back into my chest and cools.
Silas rides with easy grace, turning, weaving, leading us deeper and deeper into the frightening forest. I hang on for dear life, refusing to think of the velcrin or the klarv. The natchling or the Onyx Wraith. Not with a Fae in front of me.
Just like with Jaxon, the monsters won’t come out to play when a stronger predator is present. I hope.
Clang.
The metallic scream reverberates through the trees. Shouts. Cries.
Please, no.
Silas kicks his heels into Hyde’s flank. The general’s steed takes off. Moonlight bolts after him, nearly unseating me. I fold over her mane, eyes squeezed shut and grip tight, whispering desperate prayers that we aren’t too late.
When the trees thin, blinding sunlight erupts across my vision. Moonlight slows to a trot, and I lift my head—
And gasp.
The clearing is a massacre.
Bloodied bodies litter the ground. Swords stick out of chests, and broken bows and arrows are spread amongst the carnage.
The red scarves of Nalderall and thick, black leather belts of Hammond’s fighting men reveal it’s not just Verdanthian soldiers who decided to undertake this foolish mission. Dozens of them lay butchered, carpeting the earth.
We’re too late.
My stomach twists. I think of the families they’ve left behind. Of wives who are denied work because of sexist ideals. Of children who won’t be able to eat.
But there’s no time to mourn.
Because ahead, men are still fighting. The remaining humans clash with Fae soldiers who move like shadows, blades flashing, faces blank. Merciless. Unstoppable.
I scan the chaos, and my chest tightens when I don’t see Lev.
Has he fallen?
I shouldn’t care, not after what he did. But Gods help me, I do.
Of course I do.
He betrayed me, and I will never forgive him. But he’s Lev. Just like with Dian, I can’t stand by and not try to help him.
I take a deep breath to loosen the vise around my heart and continue to search the clearing. I don’t see Draven, Jaxon, or Rian. Darius’s opulent tent appears untouched. Maybe the Fae are inside, acting as the last line of defense for their Shadow Prince.
“I’m going to find Draven,” Silas shouts, leaping off Hyde in a fluid motion I envy and then tying the reins to a tree. “Stay here.”
“What?”
I thought I came here to talk sense into Rian. I can’t do that from here.
“You’ll be slaughtered the moment you step foot on that field,” he says, not mincing words. Shadows roll over the ground around him, and he holds my stare. “I’ll find Draven and tell him you’re here. He’ll find Rian.”
I’m about to ask why he can’t just go to Rian himself, but he races off into the fray before I can open my mouth.
I sit frozen on Moonlight, watching my fellow humans break against a wall of Fae steel.
The human soldiers shout orders, dodging and striking with fervor, but they are subdued with ease by the skilled Fae. The magical race moves with unnatural speed, and their strikes possess incredible strength.
When a Fae splits a man clean in two, bile surges up. I throw my weight to the side and vomit, retching until my throat burns.
Moonlight huffs and shuffles her hooves.
“Sorry,” I rasp, stroking her mane.
She shifts anxiously, mirroring my dread.
Steeling my stomach, I look back out at the camp. More men have fallen. And there’s still no sight of the three males I’ve spent the past days with. They’re not needed. It’s only a matter of time before the humans fall, and our region descends into chaos.
A Verdanthian roars, his green uniform stained black with blood and sweat. The bulky man charges at two Fae soldiers with reckless fury.
My body stiffens. I brace for his death.
“Now!” he bellows.
A different pair of men spin away from the group of Fae they’d been surrounding and race to the Fae males’ backs, swords raised.
No!
“Watch out!” I scream.
Swords plunge into the Fae’s backs.
My heart drops, but every emotion within me shutters into shocked horror when the Fae males’ bodies burst into clouds of dark smoke. Their bodies dissolve, vanishing into nothing.
No, not smoke. Shadow.
My pulse roars in my ears.
Fae may have magic, but they have bodies. I’ve felt Darius’s flesh. I’ve felt Rian’s. What weapon could destroy their bodies like that?
“It’s the Fae whore!”
The shout slams into me. I whip my head to the side. A soldier in a red scarf points his dagger in my direction.
“Shoot her!”
A bowstring snaps.
I yank the reins to the left and lean halfway off the saddle.
Thud.
The arrow lodges in the tree behind where my head had been.
Another shout—“Again!”
Shit!
I release the reins and throw myself out of the saddle. Pain explodes in my shoulder as I hit the ground. With a grunt, I push myself up and crawl to Moonlight’s backside. I slap her hindquarters, and she bolts into the trees.
Another arrow whizzes past, grazing my cheek. I duck and scramble into the forest, but stay close to the edge, not brave enough to dive into its dark depths without a Fae protector.
Arrows thud into bark all around me. My heart races.
They’re trying to kill me. Why are they trying to kill me?
Does it matter? my inner voice snaps. Run!
I don’t stop moving. I weave, crawl, sprint, changing up my pace and alternating my height to vary the archer’s target. The ground tears up my naked feet, but my magic coats my flesh, masking the worst of the pain.
Adrenaline pours into my veins. My vision tunnels until I only see the gnarled branches in front of me, and I only hear the sound of my own breathing.
I don’t know how much time passes before the arrows stop. Before I find myself staring at the back of the opulent tent. Rian’s small, dark tent sits to the side.
My chest heaves.
I did it. I made it. I lean forward on the balls of my feet, prepared to make a run for the tent when a hand clamps down on my arm.
“Gotcha!”
I scream as I’m yanked from the tree line.
My captor’s manic grin splits his face. “I’ve got her! I’ve got the whor—”
Blood spatters my cheek. His words cut off in a wet gurgle as a dagger punches through his throat.
I stagger back as he collapses, and my rescuer comes into view.
For a moment, my heart stops beating. “Ferria?”