Page 66 of Faeling (Monstrous World #4)

Vallek didn’t end up liking the plan, but it was all far too late now.

Standing on a serpentine sandbar in the middle of the narrow mouth of Dyfan Bay, orcish territories behind him and the faelands just yonder, he watched as a dozen fae ships bobbed in the shallows.

His own ships, ordered west from the Spearhead to meet them here, had been beached behind him.

They were still manned should anything happen, but the majority of his berserkers waited in formation.

Somewhere amongst them stood Asta, guarding the reticent Leita.

Disguised and glamoured, the fae woman was still shackled; in the four days since her capture, Leita still hadn’t come round to Ravenna’s plan.

Not for lack of trying, of course. His mate wheedled, cajoled, coaxed, and threatened, anything to bring the fae heir onside.

He bore a sliver of sympathy for the woman; it was clear she wanted nothing to do with Amaranthe and the faelands—and she couldn’t be faulted for that.

From the scraps Ravenna had been able to glean from Leita’s sparse answers, she’d been alone for almost five-hundred years, wandering the wilderness with her unicorn.

Still, Vallek wasn’t above using her as bait.

She was here to entice Amaranthe, for while disguised and glamoured, her magic would still be on the wind.

It would serve as a distraction from Ravenna’s own magic, distinct, she said, from a full fae’s and noticeable to them.

Even if their senses would be somewhat dulled away from the faelands.

While that may have all been true, Vallek still wasn’t sure he supported Ravenna’s final plan.

Before assuming her guard of Leita, Asta had taken a small raft, just her and Ravenna. She helped Ravenna hide somewhere on the sandbar before rowing back. Alone.

Not even Vallek knew where she hid. “It’s better that way,” Ravenna had reasoned. “You can’t give anything away if you don’t know.”

He was man enough to admit that he found the insinuation that he’d give away her location offensive—and that his annoyance with her was really an easier emotion to have than this worry.

Plans were all well and good until they went to shit in the face of the enemy.

And what a face it was.

Vallek had never seen the Fae Queen in person, just likenesses in statues and stories. From Ravenna’s warnings, he knew that the face she wore was false, a glamour just like the one his mate had used to pass as human.

Still, even knowing that, he wasn’t prepared for the sight of the Fae Queen gliding across the sand to meet him.

Unbound hair streamed behind her in soft white ringlets, nearly touching her bare feet.

Robes of the palest blue velvet and silk hung from slender shoulders, accentuating a supple figure.

Hands as pale and delicate as roosting doves were folded demurely before her, shell-pink nails elongated into elegant claws.

With her long, graceful neck, winging brows, and small mouth, she resembled an exotic songbird.

Her robes rippled behind her, and her iridescent wings gleamed opalescent in the late-morning light.

Her beauty was ethereal and terrible—and devious. Although not a fae, Vallek could sense the power radiating from Amaranthe as she stepped across the sand, hardly leaving footprints behind her. She was small, pale, and utterly deadly. Her form as beautiful as the finest blade and just as lethal.

Indeed, for all her beauty, the effect was marred somewhat by her forbidding expression.

She came to a halt about two body lengths’ away, two warriors on either side of her. Vallek nodded in greeting as Mattias, on his right, bowed his head lower.

None of the fae moved. The warriors stood silent sentinel, their dark eyes trained forward. Vallek was unsettled by their statuesque posture, as though they were drones, merely awaiting command.

“Your Majesty,” Vallek said in faethling. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“The faelands suffer without their queen, so we must keep this brief.” Her gaze, dark as the night sky with indigo irises and black sclera, flicked past him to assess his forces.

“I wouldn’t make such a request were it not important.

” Using the excuse to look at Mattias, Vallek scanned the sandbar for any sign of his mate.

There were a handful of barnacle-clad boulders and a shelf of long-dead coral for cover, but none seemed deep or wide enough to make an effective hiding spot.

He had to trust she would strike when the moment was right.

They’d spent hours going over the plan, how Vallek would do his best to lure Amaranthe as far from her warriors as he could.

Distract her with promises, get her attention focused entirely on the chance at capturing Ravenna or Leita, and in that moment when she thought she would triumph, snatch it all away.

The plan had a certain poetry to it, at least in theory, but standing there with his boots in the sand, across from the frigid stare of the Fae Queen, Vallek could only pray that his mate’s instinct and aim were true.

“In the summer, you sent messengers to a coastal village. To warn of a half-fae criminal.”

Those dark eyes flashed with interest, and if Vallek wasn’t mistaken, her expression bordered on smug.

The message Eydis drafted to lure the fae here hadn’t outright stated that they had more than possible information on whoever Amaranthe hunted, but the Fae Queen had to have suspected.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have come herself.

Had Vallek sought someone so dangerous, so prized, he’d have come himself, too.

That he’d not only agreed to but followed through in bringing his own mate right to the being that wanted her dead hadn’t escaped him. He’d lain awake for long hours the night before, pondering this very conundrum.

“I did,” Amaranthe confirmed. Her gaze again skittered across the lines of berserkers. “Passing along fair warning seemed the neighborly thing to do.”

“Indeed. It does make me wonder about the safety of our borders and whether or not a…renegotiation of them might be in order.”

One of her brows ticked up infinitesimally. “And undermine centuries of precedent and good will? I think not.”

“With so many renegade fae in my territories, I hope you will reconsider. I too have a kingdom and people to make safe.”

That arched brow lost a bit of its imperiousness as she searched Vallek’s face. He held perfectly still when he felt tendrils of magic begin slithering up his legs.

Clearing his throat, he adjusted his weight, sending the tendrils fleeing.

“You have her?” Amaranthe breathed.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You haven’t said much at all. I haven’t the time nor patience for games, Orc King.”

“But you are so wise and long of years,” countered Vallek, flashing her a roguish grin. “I took your warning to heart and have scoured my lands for such a criminal. I didn’t find one matching your messengers’ description. The one I have is fair…like you.”

The air around them went totally, utterly still. The waves ceased to rise, the breeze ceased to blow. Seabirds hung in midair, and the sand made no crunch beneath his boot when he shifted.

“Impossible.” Her voice came from far away, terrible and deep. “You lie.”

“Lying wouldn’t be neighborly,” he said. “I swear upon my honor that I speak true.”

“Bring her to me.”

Vallek nodded easily, stepping to the side to sweep his arm to indicate behind him. “Follow me to my camp, and I will give her over to your custody.”

“No. Bring her here.”

“I’m sure you’ll understand why I cannot do that. Not until we’ve worked out some neighborly assurances.”

His easy smile was met with a vicious snarl. Lips peeling back from her pearly fangs, Amaranthe hissed, “You will surrender her to me, orc. Now. ”

“Of course. She is yours—in my camp.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” she sneered.

“No one who has sat upon their throne as long as you could be stupid.”

“Perhaps you haven’t sat upon yours long enough.” Taking one threatening step forward, the Fae Queen commanded in that terrible voice, “You play with powers your mortal mind cannot comprehend. Produce her now, or I summon the tides to drown you all.”

Vallek raised his open hands. Fuck, he hadn’t wanted to dangle Leita so close to the shark’s mouth, but—

Sand burst into the still air, a boulder springing to life. From one blink to the next, it wasn’t rock but fabric, blue fabric, flapping behind a furious, determined faeling.

Ravenna took a running leap, dirk aimed for Amaranthe’s heart.

Magic wrapped around Vallek’s ankles, pulling his feet out from under him.

He crashed to the ground on his back, just in time to watch an invisible blow of magic catch Ravenna’s middle.

A gurgling wheeze punched from her lungs, and she was thrown backwards the way she’d come, dirk skidding through the sand.

“ Traitors! ” Amaranthe screeched.

“NOW!” Vallek cried.

Mattias leapt forward to defend him, and his berserkers let loose a fierce battle cry. The sand under Vallek’s back pounded as he slid Hormhím free of his belt.

He hadn’t wanted to do this the hard way, but now there was no choice.

Kicking his legs free, he took the hand Mattias offered him, bounding up. Fae warriors rushed up the sandbar, coalescing around Amaranthe, as his berserkers came charging up behind him.

A dark blur leapt through the air again, Ravenna renewing her attack. Vallek’s heart jumped into his throat as he watched her fall upon the wall of armor and flesh guarding the Fae Queen. She dove at them in a fury, fangs flashing.

Vallek gripped Hormhím tight and charged forward.

Smaller but swifter, Ravenna darted between the warriors, faster than the flash of a blade. From her belt she pulled a pair of irons, and for a moment, Vallek’s hope soared as he watched her go for Amaranthe’s arm.

Ravenna took a blow, Amaranthe’s claws raking down her chest, but she pushed on, desperate to get the manacle around the Fae Queen’s wrist.

A horrid screech rent the air, followed by a percussive wave of magic. The force of it brought Vallek to his knees.

Grasping Ravenna’s arm, Amaranthe tightened her grip until the irons fell away.

Ravenna made a distressed sound, one that called to Vallek’s beast.

Mate, get to my mate.

Surging up from the sand, Vallek swung Hormhím at the tangle of fae. At least three swords rose to catch the axeblade, arms straining under the weight of Vallek’s attack. He pushed forward, using his superior size and weight, frantic now to grab his mate and retreat.

Nothing mattered except getting her out alive.

The sound of clashing bodies met his ears, his berserkers throwing themselves into the fray.

“Vallek!” he heard Mattias call, but it was too late.

Fae warriors surrounded him, encircling him, Ravenna, and Amaranthe. His mate wouldn’t give up, clawing at Amaranthe’s face like a wildcat, even as the Fae Queen bent her other arm back to the point of breaking.

Gone to her rage, she didn’t respond when Vallek shouted her name.

“To the king!”

“Secure the king!”

His berserkers slammed against the forming wall of fae, but despite their speed and force, the line held.

Vallek swung Hormhím, throwing back the three fae and dodging the blow of a fourth. The warriors circled him like lions waiting to pounce, but Vallek only bared his tusks.

They came at him in a coordinated rush, forcing him to swing Hormhím as fast as he could just to keep them back. He dodged and danced across the sand, catching any fae he met with his axe, buying what time he could.

The next time he spun, he found himself facing Ravenna and Amaranthe, locked in their own strange duel. Lashes of magic whipped the sand, the two women struggling over the manacles. One of Amaranthe’s hands clutched his mate’s arm, her claws sunk into the meat of her bicep.

Red trickled into Vallek’s vision as drops of his mate’s blood trickled onto the sand.

Vallek roared, throwing himself forward. The sting of a blow landed across his back, but he hardly felt it.

His legs pumped, getting him closer. Fae leapt onto his back, held onto his arms, but still he ran, desperate to get to her.

He’d almost made it when finally, six fae brought him down. Knees buckling, Hormhím went flying from his hand.

“Enough.” The Fae Queen snarled, catching Ravenna by the throat and tossing her back.

His mate landed in a heap before him, blood soaking her sleeve.

As fae closed in around them, Ravenna’s wide, horrified eyes snapped to his.

We’ve failed.

“Take them!” Amaranthe cried.

No.

With his berserker strength, Vallek seized Ravenna by the waist. Throwing off some of the bodies holding him down, he got two running steps before tossing her through the air—across the fae line and to his own warriors.

“ Vallek! ”

“Fall back!” he bellowed. “ Fall back! ”

A hiss pierced his ear as more fae swarmed him. The snick of irons locking shut hit him next. Cold burned up his arm, suddenly weak and lethargic. The fight in him stuttered, the red bleeding from his vision.

He wrestled with five, six, seven, many fae. They held him down as the second manacle was clasped round his wrist.

Nausea rolled over him, the enchanted metal sucking at his strength. He bared his tusks, refusing to be beaten, but his chest could hardly draw breath under the weight of all the fae.

“To the ships. Bring him!” commanded the Fae Queen.

His vision swam as he was dragged through the sand.

He knew he should be concerned, but his mind couldn’t quite manage it through the haze.

She’s safe. That’s all that matters.

With the last of his strength, he cried one last time, “FALL BACK!”