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CHAPTER 33

A few miles outside the border of Wychwood, far from the shadows of the entangled forest, a sea of flesh and mortality stood waiting. Just as I had expected. Grand black tents took up old farmlands, stretching for as far as I could see. It encroached on fey lands, like spilled ink slowly spreading closer and closer. And yet there were no Nephilim amongst the camp, only unsuspecting humans.

A small part of me had hoped that we were wrong about Cassial’s use of humans, but seeing them here, like this, only reinforced my conviction that we couldnotgo to war. Enough innocence had been taken from the realms, I refused to allow another to be taken.

My mount cantered toward them, stopping when a Nephilim finally revealed themselves. Without warning, they dove down from the skies, tearing me out of the saddle. The ground fell away from me, as did my crown, which was knocked from my head. I watched it, as we flew higher, tumble to the sodden earth, landing in boot-trodden mud.

Humans raced for it like rats to food, clambering over my crown until I could no longer see it.

As my captor’s shadow lingered across the patchwork of tents, humans looked up, pointing and shouting. They cheered for the Nephilim who held me – not knowing that the very being who held me was the monster – not the fey they held in their grasp.

Right in the heart of the encampment was a handful of larger tents. The material was a bright cream with gold stitching, standing out against the darker material on the outskirts of the camp.

Banners fluttered in a light breeze, the symbol of the Creator taunting me everywhere I looked.

And I had no doubt in my heart that the Nephilim was taking me directly to the man I needed to see.

Cassial.

Around me, a flock of Nephilim rose into the skies on feathered wings, brandishing weapons of gold. Did they wonder why I had come? Or had they been expecting me. The latter was more likely, considering I hadn’t used my power against them yet. It was the flash of daylight, catching across glass, refracting beams of multicoloured light over the vicinity, that proved it.

I’d been so distracted with my welcome that I almost forgot the one important detail of why I’d come. So, I patted my hand over my jacket pocket, feeling for the small glass vial.

Seraphine felt as though the poison was important enough to leave with Eroan. She never acted without reason.

Never.

Had she known this would happen, that I would be forced to enter the heart of our enemy? Unless Althea was dead, and Seraphine was alive still, I would never get that answer.

My Nephilim captor nosedived to the ground so suddenly a scream tore out of my throat. The earth raced up toward me. I pinched my eyes closed, ready to meet my end, until everything settled.

I wasn’t dead… yet.

We landed in the middle of a circle of armed Nephilim. The one holding me forced me out of his hands, pushing me to the ground. I stumbled over awkward feet, only for another Nephilim to push against me, knocking me backwards.

I hit the ground, to the amusement of those watching. Laughter erupted from every direction, as Nephilim delighted in watching a fey king squander in mud like a headless fowl.

They could not see me as a threat, so I made sure to stay on the ground.

“I come in peace,” I said, sure I had read that exact saying in a fiction book I once read. To emphasise, I lifted my hands up in surrender, and offered the sweetest of smiles. Deep down, I wanted nothing more than to destroy each and every one of them. Slowly, I searched around the faces of the Nephilim for someone I’d recognise. Maybe Duncan, but that was only a hope.

“Look at the fey king on the ground!” A Nephilim shouted, brandishing a sword in my direction. “Whereitbelongs, fey scum.”

“Incredibly original,” I spluttered, dusting the grime from my trousers as if that mattered. “It’s been a long time since I heard that one.”

They sneered at me, teeth bared like rabid dogs.

“As much as I would enjoy hearing all the creative insults you’ve no doubt practiced six inches from a mirror, will one of you gracious angels do me the favour of taking me to yourSaviour. I’d like to have a little chat with him, as you can imagine.”

The title soured in my mouth, because I knew it belonged to another.

The Nephilim each looked at me as if I was mad. Crazed. Maybe I was. After all, I had come here alone. But for now, those feral desires had to be kept under control.

“I knew you would come,”came a voice belonging to the very prick I wanted to see. Except he wasn’t here. Not physically. Cassial’s voice came from within my head, piercing the veil of my mind. The pain that followed was so great, it brought me to my knees, hands smacking on either side of my head as if I could gouge him out with nails.

In seconds, rough hands were upon me. The cold kiss of iron encased my neck, clipping locked. The very same cuff that had been put on me when I was taken by Hunters months ago.

I’d expected a welcome like this. Mentally, I’d prepared for it. But still, as my power slipped away, falling through my grasp like sand through parted fingers, I felt a semblance of vulnerability rear its ugly head.