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19

Jon

S oft, musical laughter echoed off the walls, making the hair on the back of my neck rise. I squinted in search of the source, new dread unspooling. From the shadows, sirens flitted intermittently through the water—and even more were entering the cavern through a sunken opening in the wall across the way. They didn’t pursue us from the depths, but their eyes glinted at us as they surfaced and dove, giggling with a seductive curiosity as their faint, eerie melodies overlapped.

“If you’d kindly discard all weapons, please,” the commanding fairy went on, jutting his chin toward the iron blades. “We prefer our negotiations to be free of bloodshed, when it can be helped.”

Cliff scoffed, his voice a low, bitter murmur. “Sure, that seems like a fair fight, considering you’ve got two dozen trigger-happy fairies raring to go.”

“Would you prefer we carve them out of your hands?”

I hesitated, looking between Sylvia and Cliff. This wasn’t entirely hostile yet. They could have killed us the second we crossed over that threshold. If we had any chance of proving our goodwill and getting our hands on a gemstone, it was in our best interest to comply.

Cliff glared but reluctantly began to pull at his clothes, stripping away the assortment of weapons he had tucked away. A sheathed bronze blade, two glocks, and a few poison-tipped throwing knives, along with a box of silver bullets. He laid them out with a mixture of resignation and irritation. I did the same, surrendering my favorite knives, a handgun, and the smaller bronze blade we had used for the blood offering, still smeared with fresh crimson.

“Satisfied?” I asked, assessing the faces around us. I felt naked already, the weight of my clothes far too light without the comforting presence of my knives against my chest.

A female fairy with silver, braided hair joined the commander, her eyes narrowed at me.

“You’re hiding something,” she said. “I can sense it.”

The others bristled, spellwork crackling along palms. Sighing, I caught Sylvia’s eye. With a reluctant twist, I reached back and dug the ice shiv out of my boot. Sylvia had crafted it for me with reinforced magic, making its razor-sharp point resistant to melt. It was the last weapon I had, and I shot the room a small, sheepish grin as I held it up for them to see before placing it on the pile.

Sylvia lifted her eyebrows, biting down on her lip to stifle a wide smile.

Cliff shot her a questioning look. “Since when are you handing out shivs?” he hissed under his breath.

She shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

When the hum of wings approached us, Sylvia’s expression hardened. She turned to face the commanding fairy, and although her magic had already failed her, she raised her hands threateningly. I clenched my jaw, certain the vines would come for her next.

“Come any closer, and I’ll drive an icicle so far up your ass, you’ll choke on it,” she said.

But the commander took her hostility without retaliation. The battalion behind him bristled, but he set them at ease with a simple hand gesture before meeting Sylvia’s eyes.

“We bear no ill intent,” he said. “Our sweet sister Aureline alerted us of your arrival. She returned home yesterday with a miraculous tale of escaping a hunters’ fortress thanks to your help. Even more miraculous was her claim that you are the outsider who caught our attention the other night. We were beginning to wonder whether you would find your way here.”

Sylvia gestured at us. “Blood sacrifices and restraints are hardly a warm welcome. Why torture us if you knew we helped Aureline?”

The commander’s chuckle was surprisingly sheepish. “The ritual is to ensure exhaustion upon a human’s arrival. Far preferable to the thought of allowing hunters in our midst at full strength.”

“Yeah, those corpses back there looked a little more than exhausted ,” Cliff muttered.

“Hunters and thieves who would have massacred our people,” the commander answered matter-of-factly. “Too weak to prevail the price of entry.”

“The restraints are unnecessary,” Sylvia insisted. “We’re not your enemies.”

“They retain too much strength despite their sacrifice, thanks to your diligent healing.” He quirked a brow at Sylvia. “Surely it brings you some satisfaction to see your captors on their knees?”

Sylvia breathed in sharply. “They’re not my—” She glanced back at us and paused, her expression changing thoughtfully. Deception crawled across the features. She squared her shoulders and faced the commander. “You have it mixed up. I’m not a prisoner to them, but I’ve poured time and magic into taming them for my needs. Killing them would be an offense.”

A few fairies exchanged looks with the commander, unsure what to make of her claim. The certainty in her tone was admirable—any worry hidden beneath could be interpreted as fear of losing her investment.

Attagirl , I thought. She’d come a long way from her stressed lies after the capture in Dottage house .

The silver-haired fairy seemed less than convinced, her smile tight. “And have you used these men to raid other villages at your command?”

“Of course not,” Sylvia said at once.

“Then, what is your purpose here?”

She hesitated, and I couldn’t blame her. There was no telling how these people would react to any shred of the truth. Demanding a gemstone in exchange for rescuing a siren sounded like a stretch, given our current position. That was all the leverage we had.

“I mean no harm here or anywhere,” Sylvia said. “This is the first village I’ve encountered since leaving my own. After witnessing Aureline’s familiarity with fairies and sensing your magic from a distance, is it a crime to admit I was curious?”

Interest piqued, the commander drew closer to her. “You claim innocence, yet you bear the mark of a defector. Shall we agree on honesty? You did not leave your village. You were cast out.” There was no venom or judgment in his voice. His sympathy was startlingly genuine. He glanced toward Cliff and me, then back to Sylvia, gaze alight. “I’m sure there’s a magnificent story behind this, isn’t there?”

Sylvia was quiet for a moment. Even from behind, I saw how she tilted her head, the way she always did to make her hair fall over her traitor mark. “As I said—I sacrificed much to gain these protectors.”

“Clearly.” The commander took her chin, tilting her face for a closer look at the rune.

I couldn’t help it—I flinched forward on pure instinct to protect her. To pull her away from this smug, powerful stranger. The earth cracked beside me, and more restraints wound around on my wrists in response. I fought back, and when Cliff tried to rip the new vines away from my arms, he was given the same treatment .

“Stop!” Sylvia cried.

In all the commotion, the commander didn’t flinch. He looked between the three of us like he was trying to put together a particularly tricky puzzle—and he was thrilled for the challenge.

“Please.” Sylvia sounded like she was making a great deal of effort to remain calm. “Let them go before you damage them. They’re territorial, that’s all.”

“You chose volatile protectors, Miss. But quite loyal, aren’t they?”

“I could say the same.” Sylvia pointed at the water, where the sirens had begun to stir with more interest. “Yet I don’t see any leashes on them .”

“They are an integral part of our home—more than that, they are family. I cannot, in good conscience, release your hunters until I learn more.” He raised his hand calmly to halt her argument. “You seem reasonable enough to understand that anomalies such as yours cannot be allowed to roam our community. But rest assured—Veloria is a haven, and you saved one of our own. You and your property will be taken care of as you recover and satiate this… curiosity of yours.”

“They won’t be hurt?” Sylvia demanded.

“So long as they remain docile.”

“Swear an oath,” she growled.

He gave a startled laugh. “Does the word of a Sentinel-Warrior mean nothing where you come from?”

Sylvia’s posture went stiff. “Your rune is real?” she asked, suspicion in her voice. “It isn’t just a tribute to the old tales?”

“It’s as real as your own marking. Try healing it if you like—it won’t vanish.”

I swore her hand twitched like she wanted to touch it. Whatever this exchange between them meant, Sylvia stopped arguing as though something had resonated .

Water sloshed sharply to my left—followed by seductive laughter. The bonds on my wrists strained as I tensed, eyeing the flash of silvery tails through the water. The dark, too-large eyes. The sirens weren’t glamouring us, revealing glimpses of their true, rotten forms—a sight typically reserved for drowning men.

“They’ve been asked to leave you be,” the commanding fairy’s voice cut through my thoughts, reading my face. “Be at ease, child.”

My brow furrowed, gaze snapping back to him. Faint lines on his forehead marked him as a few years older than me at most, but he spoke with an authority that rivaled someone far older. His piercing brown eyes sparkled with that infuriating mischief, giving me the sickening sense that he read me far better than I could him.

What the hell have we walked into, Sylvia?

Another inhuman, clicking chirp echoed through the cave, chilling my blood. Though obedient to the order not to harm Cliff and me, the sirens continued to swim with disturbing excitement—unable to tear their eyes from us. They lurked like sharks circling a bloody carcass.

The commander turned back to Sylvia, offering his hand. “Come, get off your wings.”

She ignored the aid but followed him down to one of the large, porous rocks that jutted from the ground before us. Several of the other fairies followed while a few of them lingered to circle Cliff and me at a lazy pace, whispering to each other conspiratorially.

The commander introduced himself as Marcellus, lead sentinel of Veloria. When Sylvia gave her name in turn, he kissed her cheek in greeting. Several of the other fairies did the same, pressing in to warmly exchange names. I could see how it disarmed her, stole the confident mask as strangers embraced her. It had to be jarring to be welcomed so warmly when the last fairies she saw banished her from her own home.

Sylvia looked so pale beside Marcellus, so small. I wanted her in my grasp, where she was safe. But she was not some naive girl who needed my protection, I reminded myself. The space between us burned nonetheless.

“You must’ve come such a long way,” remarked a female warrior, plucking at Sylvia’s torn top with a frown. The iridescent teal fabric was still damp with blood— my blood —from her efforts healing us in the passageways.

The tension in the air eased as the warriors pressed in on Sylvia with eager questions and flattering remarks. I heard several more of them voice their concerns about her traitor mark, but none of it was hateful. A willowy woman even kissed it, giving Sylvia a kind look. Another fairy comfortingly remarked that Veloria’s alliance with predators like sirens would make them traitors in the eyes of just about every other village—they understood what she’d been through.

“You look hungry,” a soft voice drifted past my left ear.

I stiffened, finding a fairy with olive skin and tumbling raven curls eyeing me the way tourists salivated over candy apples being dipped behind glass windows. She looked like she hadn’t seen humans in decades, and judging by the corpses we’d passed, that was likely true.

“I’m fine,” I said, keeping my gaze forward. I tried to ignore the prickling unease of being watched like an animal.

“Oh, I rather like this one.” Another dulcet voice. I glanced to the side—this remark was for Cliff, not me.

A male and female, both adorned in the same lightweight, seafoam-colored armor of the others, hovered closer to Cliff, who was doing his best to block out the attention with a hard clench in his jaw. He seemed to be reserving his energy for staying alert through the blood loss.

“Won’t you look at me?” she asked.

When Cliff ignored her, she flexed her hand, whispering under her breath. A thin vine broke from Cliff’s other restraints, reaching upward to curl along his jaw. With a pull of her hand, he was forced to face her. An earth affinity, I realized. She might be one of the few present who could effortlessly remove these restraints.

“Where did this traveler find a specimen like you? Those lips…”

Cliff’s green eyes flashed at her as he leaned against the thin, curling vine. “I almost never say this,” he gritted. “But I’m not in the mood to be tied up.”

The female giggled. She pouted with focus as she appraised the slope of Cliff’s neck, glancing back at the male behind her. “Are you sure he’s a hunter?”

“What a waste of a pretty face,” the male agreed, clicking his tongue with disappointment.

Cliff offered them a cold smirk. “Oh buddy, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve been told that.”

The male’s gray eyes sparked with intrigue. He flew forward, grazing Cliff’s jaw with an open palm.He cocked his head to the side. “You have a sharp tongue for your kind. Does it get you in trouble often?”

Cliff jerked away—I didn’t blame him. “Touch me again, and I’ll bite your arm off.”

The female drifted to her partner, clasping his arm and resting her chin on his shoulder. “What if we keep this one, Arthur? If we speak with Marcellus and the others?”

“They would never permit it.”

“But perhaps, if we framed it right…”

My breath seized. Temporary holding was a far cry from permanent captivity.

Cliff shared my revulsion, his gaze going stony. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said. “Why don’t you two love-fucks get a bunch of your little friends together, and you can all suck my dick? ”

The female lifted an eyebrow, less than flattered. A second later, Cliff’s bonds had tightened, forcing him nearly prostrate to the floor. His hands braced against the unforgiving stone, his face inches from the ground.

“You wanna kill me or fuck me? I’m getting some real mixed signals here,” he panted.

I muscled down every instinct to attempt ripping free of the bonds, knowing I’d end up with my head on the ground too if I tried. My head still spun from lack of blood.

“Hey!” Sylvia swiveled her attention back toward us, glaring daggers at the nearby fairies. “What the hell are you doing to him?”

The dreamy tone in the female fairy’s voice had soured. “I didn’t injure him. But insults beget punishment,” she said, eyes darkening on Cliff. “Don’t you prefer him on the ground, dear, where he belongs?”

“He’ll stop,” Sylvia said evenly. She threw a hard look at Cliff—a promise that she was handling this. Her gaze settled on me for a moment, and my barely contained rage must have been noticeable because her stare pleaded with me.

For a commanding officer, Marcellus seemed utterly unperturbed by the rising tension.

“Disrespect is not tolerated in our territory,” he told Sylvia. “Least of all from humans.” He cocked his head, regarding her meaningfully. “Honesty is valued with as much ferocity.”

We’re screwed , I thought, sure that he had figured out she was lying.

“Precisely what drew you here?” he asked. “I find myself doubting that sirens and a shimmer of glamour are to blame.”

Sylvia’s hesitation said it all, but Marcellus didn’t appear upset. “I… I’m a gem scavenger,” she admitted. “When I sensed a gemstone and saw its effect on the nearby area…” She chewed her lip, glancing up at him through long lashes with a look that was both fierce and vulnerable. A look that would make him weak in the knees—it always had that effect on me. “I’m in search of a fully-charged gem. I had to come.”

Marcellus chuckled. “I fail to see why you are in need of gem magic. You’re adept, clearly. Taming hunters, healing such beasts repeatedly, and willing to defend yourself after that ordeal? Surely you have noble blood.”

A sudden flush crept over Sylvia’s face. “Oh, no—not at all. The noble bloodlines faded from my home over a century ago, if the records are to be believed.”

“Powerful lineages find ways to live on.” Nonetheless, he let the matter go. “It has been decades since an outsider found their way to Veloria, and is it any wonder? The outside world is not kind to fairies these days.” He glanced toward Cliff and me as though we were single-handedly responsible. Reaching behind his neck, he unclasped a pendant and offered it to Sylvia. “I would be honored to show an outsider as tenacious as you what we conceal from the world.”

Sylvia didn’t move as he looped the pendant around her neck. She touched the charm, too small for me to make out. Her head snapped up to look at Marcellus. “Is this—”

“A mere fraction of what we possess. Please, come.”

Sylvia started to follow him without hesitation, then halted and turned to us as if she just remembered we were there. “I can’t,” she told Marcellus firmly. “Not until my hunters are unbound. I won’t leave them to be harassed.” She shot a sour look in the fairy couple’s direction.

Marcellus raised his eyebrows. “They must stay put.”

“And they will,” she insisted. She looked between Cliff and me with feigned detachment, cautious about making it appear like she was seeking our approval. I gave her the slightest nod—anything to get us out of here quicker, to give her the chance to find a gemstone .

Even if the thought of having her out of sight set my teeth on edge.

The fragile gleam in her gaze hardened as she read my face, then Cliff’s. Sylvia squared her shoulders. “They’ll stay put and won’t bring harm upon anyone—fairy or siren. But I refuse to leave my protectors open to attack without any mobility to defend themselves.”

The demand was a stretch, and I knew it. These fairies held all the cards, and even if Sylvia was firm, there was little she could do if her insistence was shot down.

But to my surprise, Marcellus made a gesture at the earth fairies who controlled our bindings. At once, the vines receded. “They will not be granted mercy if they show any aggression, you understand?”

“So long as you don’tprovoke them, you needn’t worry,” Sylvia said sweetly.

Sighing with relief, Cliff sat back up and stretched his neck, but his grateful gaze was all but ignored as Sylvia allowed herself to be led away.

I watched her lift into the air, her familiar form blending in amongst the small crowd. Their flight was graceful and swift, arcing around hanging stalactites dripping with bioluminescence. The room felt even more cavernous when she vanished behind one of the intricate dwellings built into the stone, windows awash with warm light—like some of the oxygen had left with her. An odd twinge tugged on my chest, though not for the first time. I hated that I couldn’t always follow where she went; I was human, bound to gravity while she took wing.

“It’s polite to accept offerings,” said a soft voice beside me.

I snapped my head to the side to see the dark-haired woman from before, this time holding a jug. I hadn’t even noticed she’d gone to fetch it. She brought others—three fairies who held covered woven baskets filled with what I could only assume was food.

Although I meant to turn her down again, a steaming scent wafted from the offered food, and I realized I was hungrier than I’d ever been in my life.