Page 138 of Hunted By Fae

He watches it sheet along the edges of his hand—until Samick clenches his fist and banishes the rage of the frost.

Dare tries, “I will offer you a bargain, if I must.”

“You have nothing to offer me.”

Dare smirks. “I could tell you what happened to Daxeel.”

“I know what happened to him, his mother wrote me.” Samick is suddenly ice and daggers. It shudders through him, cold rage, and turns his eyes into blizzards. “I warned him about that halfling.”

“Yes, well,” Dare shrugs. “We have opposing opinions on that one. I find Nari to be delightful… when she isn’t a moody wench.”

Samick has no answer, because he cares so little about the halfling to even bother himself with it.

“What about a free kill?”

Samick turns a faint frown on him.

“There are two humans with Bee. One is Tesni—but the other is spare.”

Before Samick can respond, a sudden shift runs down Dare. His muscles bolt to his bones and, slowly, he turns his chin to his shoulder.

Lashes low over his eyes, he watches the darkness of the town.

“What do you sense?”

Dare murmurs, “I need your answer. She is near.”

The faintest threads of her scent waft up from all directions—and he slides his gaze to the round, metal lids on the roads. Bee is down there… underground.

But Fate talks to him, too. He settles his mind on the underground and feels a firm rejection. It strikes him with a shudder.

Bee will emerge on her own.

Samick steps closer, silent, like a mist. “It is not your request I accept. It is Mother’s command I yield to.”

Dare doesn’t turn to look at him. “Understood.”

Samick adds, “If she is on her way now, you are running out of time to speak to General Raske.”

Dare arches a brow—then the light in his eyes fade. “I already spoke to her.”

“You spoke to her about why you are separated from your unit. But you will need Raske’s permission to weigh me with a duty outside of my unit, to pin me with a ward.”

Dare response comes too easily, “You are not a warrior of Dorcha. Like me, you are a legionary.”

A warrior employed in other business, as Dare is an assassin, a spy, a ghost; Samick, a manipulator, a fae with the talent of moulding and bending the black metal, the strongest substance to ever exist in any realm, a blacksmith; Daxeel, an extractor—of the truth, a torturer.

It is only Rune among them who is a true warrior, one by trade, in career, and he isn’t on this land with them, not on this continent, but on another.

A legionary owes not as much loyalty as a warrior by trade. A legionary is a dokkalf loyal to the dark, whose skills surpass the realm of normal, whose talents make even the most savage of fae tense, and who is contracted into the unit when needed.

Samick chose his unit wisely.

He chose the general he respected most of all. General Raske, the second female fae to lead a unit, the first female fae to best a litalf army in battle—and now, Daremust face that general and ask for Samick to have another duty, one he will need to prioritise above the warriorship.

The thought of it hesitates him.

“Go on. You are running out of time.” Samick’s eyes gleam. “I will start on the trap.”