Page 33 of Given to the Fae (The Dark Realms #3)

Jak gathers Morgan’s possessions from his room, and we depart.

In the courtyard, the horses are ready for us and, although I may miss the wonders of the inn we were staying in, I’ll be glad to see the back of Death City with its plethora of mages, and magickal storms. The streets are quiet after the rains, and I follow Locke as I lead Morgan’s steed in the direction of the river I could see from the balcony earlier.

On the way, Jak sees a stall of potions and is able to buy a few healing vials. He looks relieved, muttering something about not being able to find any before this in Dead City because an ingredient is in short supply at the moment.

We continue on and find ourselves in front of a nondescript bridge that I can’t see under. It’s too dark though it’s not so wide that I shouldn’t be able to see out the other end. To me it looks more like a tunnel.

‘A conjure,’ Jak murmurs from next to me as he glances at Locke. ‘Shall I go in after him, or do you want to do it?’

Locke sighs and hands Jak the reins. ‘I’ll go.’

He walks into the shadows and completely disappears into the darkness as if he’s going through a thick curtain.

‘The fights are in there?’ I ask. ‘I thought they were usually out in the open.’

Jak nods and hands me the skin with the hated tea in it so I don’t get Gate Sick.

‘Grey ones are in the open. This one will be a black fight. No rules and no restrictions on wagers.’

I take a gulp of the tea, grimace, and swallow.

‘And Morgan likes these?’

Jak shrugs. ‘Morgan grew up in streets like these. He was fighting the bigger boys in black rings before he could talk in full sentences.’

My eyes widen. I’ve always sort of assumed that all the creatures bar humans lived charmed lives, that they never had to fight if they didn’t want to, do tasks they didn’t feel like. What Jak is saying about Morgan doesn’t fit with what I thought I knew.

‘And you?’ I ask. ‘Did you grow up thus?’

He shakes his head. ‘As a boy, I lived with fae who were given Skills through Dark conjures. When none manifested for me, I apprenticed as a healer. I thought to help others.’

He suddenly seems very interested in his horse’s bridle.

I have questions, but I know he probably won’t humor my curiosity, so don’t ask about the Dark conjures, or the Skills that were given to his fae friends. But I’m bursting with them even though I know that his past, like his present, isn’t my concern.

‘You aren’t a healer anymore?’ I can’t help but ask.

He shrugs. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’

He looks at me with a bemused expression. ‘Were you born a slave?’

A bit taken aback at his cold, almost angry tone, I answer truthfully. ‘I don’t know.’

Jak turns to face me fully, looking incredulous. ‘You don’t know?’

I remember the book in the room, and an uncomfortable feeling I don’t understand washes over me.

‘They said I came to The Barrack as a child,’ I murmur, wondering why I’m telling him something I’ve never talked to anyone else about, ‘but I don’t remember anything before that place.’

‘Who said?’

‘Ogdan and Sio. Some of the older goblin guards who remembered.’

Finished with the skin, I hand it back to him.

He frowns and opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, Locke appears out from under the black bridge with Morgan just a step behind.

I gasp loudly at the state of him. He’s covered in shallow cuts and blood pours from his nose. His tunic is splattered with mud and soaked in crimson.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m in front of him with my hands on my hips. ‘You said you’d keep me safe,’ I hiss, remembering his words from last night. ‘How are you meant to do that if you’re dead?!’

His eyes widen, well, one of them does. The other is almost swollen shut.

My hand clamps over my mouth when I realize how I just spoke to him, a master, as if I was his equal, and I take a quick step back. I haven’t made a mistake like that ever .

I hear a noise and turn back to see Jak sniggering. Even Locke looks amused.

‘My apologies, Bryn,’ the huge fae in front of me rumbles. ‘I won’t fight in the pits again.’

His apology even sounds genuine , and he says he won’t go back.

I stand and stare, not knowing what else to do, and not quite able to understand that what I said to him has made him promise not to do something, as if he cares what I think.

I shake my head a little. Ogdan would have had whichever one of his guards was in disgrace that day beat me, thereby punishing us both at the same time.

Sio would have made one or more of the new slaves do it because he liked to watch it dawn on them that every strike caused something painful to happen to them as well.

He’d laugh and wouldn’t let them stop until Fate had broken at least one bone in their body.

‘It’s time,’ Locke says from behind me and I gratefully hand Morgan his horse’s reins and turn away from his eyes that haven’t left me once. He seems to be considering something and it’s making me anxious.

We leave the bridge and continue down the wet cobblestone road.

‘How long do we have?’ Morgan grunts.

‘Not long,’ Locke replies. ‘I’ll give you a beating of my own if we miss the Breach because of you.’

Morgan snorts. ‘You can try, my friend.’

Jak rolls his eyes at them both from next to me and I can’t help my small smile, but it melts from my face only a moment later as we enter the outskirts of a market that’s reopening after the storm.

The first thing I see is an old woman being pushed to the ground by an irate goblin.

She’s a slave, a very old one, her head balding and her weathered skin like that of a sun-dried plum.

‘Pathetic old crone!’ he shouts at her as he picks her up, only to throw her down onto the hard stone street again. He kicks her in the belly, forcing a pained cry through her tight lips.

Her eyes lock with mine, one milky and unseeing, and she stares at me in surprise. Her lips form a word. She knows what I am, I’m sure of it, and I’m between her and the master before I can think the better of it, sinking down in front of her. I yelp as he kicks me hard in the side.

‘Whose slave is this?’ he bellows, grabbing me by my plait, pulling me up, and punching me in my middle.

He hauls me forward as my stomach cramps and I double over, winded.

‘Ours!’ I hear a very angry Locke snarl.

The angry goblin lets me go, throwing me down roughly at Locke’s feet at the same time, and then he steps back, looking at me gasping for breath with a shit-eating sneer on his face.

‘You should keep your slave out of the affairs of oth?—’

A cart laden with vegetables going too fast careens into him and he goes under the wheel with a scream.

It’s as quick as it always is.

I take a breath and look back at the old woman to find her eyes creasing with mirth while passersby try to pull the goblin out from underneath the heavy vehicle. I hear mutters of ‘He’s alive.’ and ‘Not for long.’ I see the goblin’s hair matted with the blood that’s bubbling from his mouth.

‘Been waiting for that cunt to get what’s coming to him for a good long while,’ the old woman cackles loudly as she gets to her feet with a wince.

She hobbles over to me, and I glance up at the fae males who are being embroiled in an argument with the cart driver.

Morgan is the only one who’s looking at me, but he’s trying not to, and I see that they’re intentionally keeping me behind them, as if pretending that I wasn’t part of what happened.

I get to my knees, and the old woman reaches down a hand, taking mine in her bony grip. She squeezes my fingers gently.

‘Never seen one of you before,’ she says with a mostly toothless smile. She taps the side of her nose as she gives the fae males a quick look. ‘Best go, girl, before the market warden decides it was your fault.’

She gestures at an imperious-looking pearlescent-skinned demon with silver wings folded down over her shoulders to form a cloak who’s making her way through the crowd toward us.

I nod and get to my feet with a grimace just as Locke snarls at the cart driver that he was driving too fast. Others are nodding and the warden waves her clawed hand in a flippant gesture as soon as she sees that Locke is a mage as well.

Locke nods and begins walking away with his horse. Jak and Morgan follow, and Morgan motions for me to stay behind his mount.

I do it, keeping my gait slow to ensure no one thinks I’m trying to flee the scene.

We turn a corner into a quiet street, and I think Locke is going to give me a tongue lashing, but all he does is throw a bundle at me.

‘Change.’

I blink at him, but he’s already turning away, as are the others. They create a barrier so that no one can see past them, and I roll my eyes. I’m a slave. I have no modesty.

But then I unroll the bundle and gasp, understanding why they’re hiding me. There are breeches and a black shirt with a matching tunic and boots.

I pull the dress off, looking around to make sure no one’s watching because, if anyone sees what I’m doing, I’ll be flayed alive and hung from the city gibbets for the crows, and even Locke won’t be able to protect me.

I throw the shirt over my head and put the breeches on, buttoning them. Everything fits as if it was made for me, even the boots, and soon I’m standing in the street looking nothing like a slave at first glance.

But I’m human. It’s easy to see.

‘I’m finished,’ I say.

Locke turns back to me, his eyes surveying my garb with a critical eye. He seems satisfied.

‘The bracelet.’

I pick up the dress and delve into the pocket, finding it and holding it out to him.

‘Put it on, Bryn.’

I slip it over my hand, and I hear Morgan’s low exclamation.

I look up at him in question.

‘She looks fae. Her ears.’

I touch my ears and my mouth drops open. The tips feel pointed!

‘Even her eyes are changed. Look. Deep violet like ours are when we aren’t dulling them.’

‘Where did you find an illusion medallion?’ Morgan whispers in awe. ‘They’re illegal these days.’