Chapter 4
Hannah
The tent flap jerked inward with a rasp of canvas against wood. Cold air slid across my face, sinking into my skin and tightening the knot of dread in my stomach.
A black metal-gloved hand shoved the fabric aside, followed by the Night General ducking beneath the opening and stepping into the lantern glow. The flap dropped shut behind him with a dull thud. His horned helmet rose high enough that the curved tips nearly brushed the ceiling.
A lump formed in my throat, and I pulled my shoulders back until the ropes bit deeper into my skin. Pins and needles burned through my wrists and ankles where the blood had gone thin, and when I tried to curl my toes inside my shoes, nothing happened.
Great.
I had frozen feet, bound hands, and no way to escape my impending death.
And I thought my life had been tough back on Earth, but here I was, living the ultimate dream. I never should’ve touched that damned iron box.
He moved farther into the tent and stopped a few paces away. Torchlight slid across the black plates of his armor, catching the ridges and edges. The helmet hid his entire face, leaving nothing but that dark, unreadable mask staring back at me.
I lifted my chin anyway. If he thought I was going to cower, he could choke on that expectation.
My jaw locked tight as I looked him over from his boots to the line of his throat. This psycho was probably about to sacrifice me to the nightmare tree that reminded me of the terrifying rowan back home. I forced myself to remain rigid, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me shiver.
A moment stretched between us.
Then he folded his arms across his broad chest.
Forcing my spine straight, I held his gaze, letting the tremor in my hands die in the ropes before it could creep up my arms. My pulse hammered so hard I could feel it in my teeth.
I must look ridiculous, wrapped in a blanket like some kind of murderous burrito with my feet sticking out, ropes digging in at awkward angles. Did they have clowns in this realm? Because I definitely felt like the entertainment.
He began to circle me with measured steps. The only sounds in the tent were the faint hiss of the lantern flames and my own breathing pushing through the disgusting gag.
I remembered him from the attack on the Dusk Court a few weeks ago. The other soldiers had moved around him like wolves around their alpha. He had stopped his soldiers attacking me that night… but now I couldn’t help wondering if that had been because he wanted me for himself.
My gaze followed him as far as the ropes allowed.
When he passed behind me, heat crawled up my spine. I stiffened, hating that I couldn’t turn to watch him stalk me. The gag pressed against my tongue as I tried to tell him where he could go, but the sound was inaudible.
He stepped back into my line of sight and stopped in front of me again. His gaze dragged over me slowly—from the ropes biting into my wrists, down the blanket-wrapped mess of my torso, to my feet pressed into the dirt. It almost seemed as if he was evaluating a tool… or livestock.
Anger flared hot enough to burn through the cold fear clawing at my ribs. I glared at him and shoved another sound past the gag. My jaw ached from chewing on it.
“Go fuck yourself,” I tried to say, but it came out as a strangled moan.
Fantastic. I was really making a strong statement here.
I choked on the gag and glared harder, hoping the message translated through pure hatred alone. Because whatever he wanted? It wasn’t just a no. It was a hell no.
He stepped to one of the tables and opened a book, humming for a few breaths as if deep in thought. Then he crossed back to the entrance and shouted out, “Istos, report.”
He didn’t look at me when he stepped back from the entrance. The bastard acted like I didn’t exist. Oh, he’d remember soon enough. I just had to figure out how to survive long enough to make that happen.
The canvas flap shifted again as another figure entered.
Istos, I guessed. He was about average height and wore dark armor but no helmet.
His hazel hair was bound low against his neck, and a sword with a black-gilded hilt hung at his side in a leather scabbard.
“Night General, sir.” He dipped his head respectfully. “How may I serve?”
The general placed his hands at his sides.
“The Night King has been explicit in his instructions. To ensure we gain the most magic from her veins—assuming she is in fact Aurora Fae and not simply an unfortunate Day Fae who happens to resemble one—everything must be perfect.” He didn’t raise his voice, but the words settled heavily in the tent.
Istos bowed again, though his brow furrowed slightly. “Of course, sir. We have completed over sixty of these sacrifices. We know the routine well.”
Sacrifices.
Bloody hell! And using that phrase really said something because I wasn’t even British.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins. I’d have to save myself this time. I doubted Kai would magically appear to rescue me, and after I’d replaced the underwear in his travel trunk with my panties…
Well…there was a decent chance he might not be in a hurry to see me again.
Maybe I should’ve left him one pair of his own.
Kai had warned me what the Night Court was capable of. But hearing Istos talk about it so casually—like they were discussing tonight’s dinner menu—made my stomach twist and cold crawl up my spine.
The Night General scoffed and turned back to the book on the table. “The last one was years ago, and most of them were sloppy. That will not happen now. Do you understand?”
I held back a snort. I didn’t see how murdering someone could be anything but sloppy. Of course, I didn’t want to be murdered at all, and I had no intention of making it easy for them.
“Of course.” Istos swallowed, his throat bobbing. “Whatever you require, we are here to serve. If you wish to inspect the altar, you may do so. We have been exceptionally careful, and we’ll be ready for the sacrifice at the appointed time.”
His gaze landed on me before he added, “Do you wish that something be done with the woman before her blood is shed? Some of the men have suggested—”
“No.” The Night General’s voice dropped lower, colder. He cleared his throat with a sound that resembled disgust. “What must be done must be done. That and nothing more. There was a time when every warrior in the Night Court understood that.”
Istos bowed his head again, shifting his weight to one leg. “King Bram’s tactics have changed.”
“Perhaps.” The Night General rested a hand on the hilt of his sword.
“But mine have not. While I may not have the authority to prohibit certain activities outside my command, understand that I will not permit the violation or torture of any fae unless it serves a larger purpose required by the king.” His voice hardened like stone.
“There is no reason for such barbarity here.”
I snorted before I could stop myself.
So he planned to kill me politely. How thoughtful.
Both of them turned toward me like I’d suddenly sprouted a second head. At this point, with how insane this world was, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had.
Istos wrinkled his nose before turning back to the Night General. “Surely you do not suggest the king is—”
“The king has left you all free to determine what you believe is best in certain circumstances.” The Night General’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “He has become increasingly lenient in such matters. But I disagree that all of you are capable of determining it.”
Istos stiffened.
“So,” the Night General continued evenly, “you will make sure every soldier here understands my stance and how I will address the matter if it is ignored.” He jerked his head toward me.
“Get someone in here to adjust her bonds. The blood flow must be even to allow the proper extraction of the magic.”
My heart skipped a beat.
Yes. Unbind me. I could work with that.
Wanting to play up my discomfort, I let my body sag in the ropes and forced a few tears to well in my eyes.
They slid down my cheeks easily enough, and I turned my head away as if embarrassed by the display while weakly rubbing my hands against the blanket behind my back, silently congratulating myself on my acting skills.
Istos glanced between the Night General and me. His mouth worked as his hands flexed at his sides. “Night General, sir, we cannot permit her to escape. King Bram was explicitly clear—”
“You think she can escape, Commander?” The general scoffed and stepped closer, invading the commander’s space. “You actually think this fragile little woman has a chance of getting free?”
He gestured in my direction. “Let’s pretend for a moment that she does get free.
What path of escape would you suggest she take?
The main route down the mountain?” He shook his head.
“Impossible. Even if she somehow slipped past the guard here, she wouldn’t make it past the soldiers stationed at the base. They have orders to attack on sight.”
He began pacing slowly as he spoke.
“Then there’s the smaller passage in the southern corner at the rear of the hollow.
But ever since the cave-in, it’s far too treacherous.
She would freeze to death without proper gear, and even with it, survival would be unlikely.
The crystal caves along that route are lovely, I suppose, but hardly welcoming for someone like her. ”
He paused before continuing, almost thoughtfully, “I suppose if she were exceptionally cunning, she might attempt to scale the cliff face near the sacrificial site.”
My stomach twisted, realizing the gravity of my situation.
“But once again.” He shrugged. “How would she reach it? And even if she did, how would she descend without freezing to death?”
He stopped and looked at Istos. “No. It’s hopeless. Though entertain me for a moment, commander. If you were in her position, what would you do?”
“Th-the southern passage?” Istos’s scowl deepened.