Chapter 2
Alette
Hours pass as I get closer to town. I can tell my horse, Goose, is getting tired, so I climb off of her, grab my pack, give her a few minutes to graze, then continue ahead. My back aches with each movement, but I try to ignore it. I won’t let a little pain ruin my trip into town.
My back always heals, after all.
I’ve traveled this worn path more than enough times to know that we’re nearly there, and I’m already dying for the taste of the baker’s bread, or a bite of the tavern’s soup, and heck, I’d do anything for a sip of beer.
The townsfolk are always good to me. Perhaps because they loved my parents so much.
The sun sets behind me, casting long shadows over the path as I walk. Goose moves beside me, her hooves thudding softly against the dirt road. My mind starts to wander. My thoughts tumble and tangle together. It’s been four months since I last made this journey.
I’ve missed town.
It’s been four months since I’ve seen the bustling square, the warm faces of the villagers, the smiles of children as they chase each other in the street.
It’s the only place I’ve ever felt a true sense of belonging since my father passed.
They’re my family now, the people here, the ones who showed up in whatever small ways they could when my father died, the ones who taught me how to laugh again.
It’s been too long since I’ve shared a meal with them, traded news, or even just exchanged stories about the weather.
I can already feel my heart lifting as I spot the town ahead. I pull Goose’s reins forward, eager to see everyone I’ve missed so much.
But as I make my way through the town, I frown. No one is around. The streets are simply… empty.
“What in the world do you think this is about?” I ask Goose.
She bumps her head against me, as if to say, “Keep going.”
“Alrighty then,” I murmur as I continue on, but I move more slowly, filled with curiosity and a little trepidation.
We make our way deeper into the town until I finally spot people up ahead.
The town square is unusually busy today, and I slow my steps, squinting to see what’s going on.
There’s a commotion. People are gathered in a tight circle, eyes fixed on the stage in the center of the square.
I’m confused, until I see them. A dozen young women stand on the stage, looking terrified, with guards I don’t recognize stationed at the end of the stage, and others roaming around the crowd.
What in the world…?
Inching closer, keeping Goose at my side as I make my way through the crowd, I recognize a few faces—my old friends, the baker’s kids, Mr. Smith’s wife—and they all turn to look at me as I draw closer.
Their faces light up with recognition for a brief second before their expressions are replaced with looks of horror, and before I can even say a word, some of them rush toward me.
“Alette!” one of the children cries, wrapping her arms around my back. I bite down on a cry of pain at my still raw flesh, but I’ll never turn down a hug from one of the villagers.
The tension in the air is thick, and the smiles on their faces don’t reach their eyes.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, my voice low as I scan the stage of young women again.
Marta, an older woman I play cards with on warm summer nights when I’m in town, looks at me with fear unlike anything I’ve seen before. “You need to leave, Alette. It’s not safe.”
I frown, confused. “What’s going on? What’s not safe?”
Marta grabs my shoulders and starts pushing me back through the crowd.
“What are you doing? You know how hard it is to make it to town,” I tell her, exhausted but trying to make sense of what’s happening around me.
“You. Have. To. Go,” she tells me, looking nervously over her shoulder.
“I just got here,” I say. Has she lost her mind? I’d spent days traveling to come trade for everything I need. To come see my friends in the village. It’d be crazy to leave now.
Whatever it is, it has to be better than going back home.
“Alette…” she says my name through gritted teeth.
“Just tell me what’s going on?” I beg, Goose stamping nearby, seeming to sense my nervousness.
Before she can answer, a guard, who was standing to the side of the stage, points directly at me. “There’s one who’s of age!” he bellows.
I freeze, heart pounding. Of age? What does that mean? I glance around, and suddenly, everyone is staring at me. No one speaks, but the looks on their faces are enough to make my adrenaline spike.
This is bad. Really bad. I should’ve run when Marta warned me, but I never could’ve expected danger to exist in our little town.
I take a hesitant step back. “What’s going on?”
Elrick, a terrified guy who looks barely older than I am, leans toward me, whispering urgently. “It’s... it’s the sacrifice. They take one young woman every month. You didn’t know? You’ve been in the mountains too long.”
The words hit me like a slap. Sacrifice?
“They sacrifice the girl to the fae,” Marta says softly. “It’s been going on for months, at least in our town. The altar was in Dewyvale for five months before that, Askinlily for several months before that, and, well… it’s been moving around the country for a really long time before that.”
They’re sacrificing people to the fae? A shiver rolls through me.
The fae are bloodthirsty monsters. There could be no worse death than one delivered by them.
I’m just shocked my village is participating in this.
People used to regularly sacrifice others to the fae, but I’d thought those violent practices were a thing of the past, at least on our side of the country.
Bram speaks up, not meeting my eye. “We’ve already sacrificed four women.”
I can’t believe it. This has been happening for months, and I never knew. Instead of staying at my cabin, I’d come here, delivering myself right into their hands. How in the world did my cabin become the safe place to be?
“No, this can’t be happening,” I whisper as guards suddenly begin to circle around me.
“The fae need their sacrifice,” a guard says, and the crowd seems to shrink away from him.
I shudder at the flash of a memory, though it’s fuzzy, not quite real.
A nightmare that claws at me from the shadows of my mind.
A figure in the darkness, a scream, blood everywhere.
My life, changed forever. Panic threatens to sweep me under.
My breath catches in my throat. No. I can’t remember that.
Not now. Not when I’m standing here, in real danger.
The crowd quiets as Lord Rutherford steps forward, the man who rules over the lands around us. Though, he’s a lord in name only. He never cares for his people. Never checks on us. He just sits in his castle on the hill living the gluttonous life that only the wealthy can afford to live.
But now, standing in front of the stage, he calls out to me. “Name.” His voice is cold, commanding.
I stand tall, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, the reigns slicing into one of my palms. “My name doesn’t matter. I’m not participating in anything involving the fae,” I say firmly, even though my mind urges me to shrink back. To do as I'm told. “And neither should any of us.”
The instant the words leave my mouth, I don’t know where they come from.
My legs tremble, and my mind begs me to retreat into the safety of its dark corners, but I force myself to focus on the situation in front of me.
This is one thing I seem to be good at, speaking up at the worst possible moments. Like I did with Mr. Clay.
“We don’t want to make the fae angry,” Lord Rutherford tells me dryly, like it’s obvious.
I look at the girls on the stage again, my stomach turning. I imagine one of them getting delivered to the fae like a chicken to the butcher. This can’t happen. I have to stop it.
My voice shakes as I continue, “What have the fae done for us? I’ve read all the same stories that all of you have read.
In every story, they cross into our lands for sacrifices, for fun, to play with us, to torture us…
and we just let them. But there’s more of us than them.
If we just don’t give them a sacrifice, they’ll move on…
knowing they can’t take on a whole town of humans. ”
A guard levels me with a look. “None of us are about to play with the fae’s goodwill over a handful of girls.”
I look at the townsfolk. “Is that how you feel?”
Their eyes avert, not meeting mine, and something twists in my stomach. I would fight for these people. I would die for these people. But not like this. Not when they won’t even speak up to protect me and the other girls.
I’m afraid, so terribly afraid, but I know I can't just let this happen. My father would roll over in his grave if I did such a thing. A flash of his face, so like mine, pops into my mind. Dark blue eyes, dark hair, gentleness in his expression. He’s there, like a ghost that haunts me, whispering that I need to survive this too, whatever it takes.
Lord Rutherford sneers, raising his voice to the crowd. “Does anyone know her name?”
No one speaks. No one answers. Tension fills the air, thick and suffocating.
I try to keep my breath steady, but it’s hard when every nerve in my body is screaming at me to run, to hide.
A thousand moments branded by fear with my father flash through my mind.
A bear, us too close to her cubs, the roar deafening.
The snake bite on my ankle that turned black.
The searing pain. The fear we’d have to sever my foot.
An unexpected current that dragged me down the river until I caught hold of a rock and managed to pull myself out.
And then the memories shift again. I see my grandparents, a different kind of challenge I must survive.
Death is all around me. Battling for survival is all I know. But this is a different kind of danger, one I don’t know how to handle.
“Name?” the lord repeats again, giving me a look.