Page 17

“How does a mortal get the Faerie sight?” I dead-pan.

“You’ll be tested, and if we both do our jobs correctly, you’ll pass. The king will grant you the Faerie sight, then.”

I think back to his earlier phrasing. “So you plan to train me, not hurt me, but you can’t promise I won’t get hurt.”

“This is real life, kitten. Anyone who promises you’d never get hurt is lying—or plans to lock you in a tower.” He leans closer, and my confidence waivers. “The king agreed to work your training around your schedule, but every seedling has to put in the effort.”

I hate how the bite of his magic already feels familiar. But the shape of him—tall and muscular, cut from a block of moving shadows—I’ll never get used to.

“And if I don’t?”

His lips press together in a grim line. “I think you already know the answer to that. Anyone can be broken, but the Shadow King would break you quickest of all. If you made trouble.”

Anyone can be broken… A bitter-sweet edge glazes the words, and I get the feeling he’s talking from experience.

Eyes cast down, I play with the end of my thick braid. “What do you know of the bet my father made with the king?”

“Only the king and your father know the exact terms of the deal. I’m supposed to train you so that you can be initiated in our way of life.”

“Train me how, exactly?”

He tips his chin to the crossbow and hooks a metal lever to the front. “Since you’ve never trained with weapons before, a crossbow is a good place to start. You use the lever to push the string back.” He acts out his instructions. “With the nut in the open position, you only have to use a bit of force to span it.”

My curiosity is dampened by the reminder that I’m not here of my own free will, but still...my fingers itch to touch the sleek, silvery bolt.

I sink my nails into my palms not to reach for it. “In Demeter, women aren’t allowed to train with bows.”

One smiles and hands over the loaded weapon. “As you so graciously pointed out, we’re in Faerie, now.”

I pick it up slowly, like I’m reluctant to touch it at all. I can’t let my excitement show. “Teaching me how to use deadly weapons is a stupid strategy on your king’s part.”

“Are you planning to shoot me, kitten?” he asks, apparently delighted by the threat.

“Mm. Not for now.” It’s heavier than expected, almost as heavy as the sword, and I swallow hard. “These bolts are different from the ones my father uses.”

“They’re made to hunt nightmares, not venison. Now, aim at the target.”

A thrill shoots up my spine as I rise the crossbow toward the closest blue and red circles. I’ve seen men do this many times. Seems simple enough.

I squeeze the trigger, and the power of the shot amazes me. The bolt buries inside a hay dummy 25 yards to our left, eons away from where I intended it to go.

Lips curled down, I expect One to make fun of me, but he hands me another bolt and the lever and waits for me to reload it myself. Like a real teacher would. And he’s patient, too.

I struggle for a second, my muscles screaming in protest, but quickly raise the loaded crossbow at the target again.

“Good. Now, use your powers,” One says. “Feel the weapon in your hands. Concentrate on the string. Feel the tension there, ready to be released upon your command.” He grazes the string with his middle and index fingers.

Goosebumps scatter on my neck, his breath hot on the shell of my ear, and I shake out the urge to look at him, concentrating on his instructions instead.

“The bolt is power. The string is a way for you to control that power. Humans practice this art for years, but we get to cheat our way to a perfect aim. Harness the energy in the string and concentrate on where you want the bolt to go.”

Distracted by his proximity, I press the trigger again. The bolt shoots to the edge of the intended target, and magic buzzes at my fingertips.

A masculine chuckle chimes in the space between us. “You’ve used your powers before.”

I bite the inside of my cheeks to mask my giddiness. I should not be enjoying myself. “Why am I here? Really. Why does the Shadow King want me?” I ask, reloading the weapon.

One straightens my aim, his arm flush against mine. “The king needs you here because the magic running in your veins means power for the kingdom.”