Page 54

ALICE

I feel sick.

I’m not entirely sure if it’s from the interesting method of travel the Faerie used or in fact something to do with the alleged fact I’m pregnant.

Either way, I think I might lose my breakfast as I stare at the small room, sumptuously furnished with a hell of a lot of gold furniture.

It’s as if the queen wanted to make sure I knew my place, with the size, and yet couldn’t quite help herself with the furnishings, wanting to show off her power and wealth.

A long chain runs from my wrist to a metal ring next to the bed.

I’ve already tried to pull and twist it free, but it isn’t budging.

I’ve also tried both doors, one leading to a rudimentary toilet, but no bath, and one is locked, presumably the exit.

There’s one small shuttered window, and I can’t get it to open either.

It’s possible the nausea is from my efforts and the way I feel completely useless against the magic the Faerie possesses.

Being with Fenrother has not been a real introduction to the Yeavering.

His lack of magic and the limited ways the Duegar used it mean I haven’t even really thought about it much.

But I’m getting the hang of it here.

I’m also slowly understanding why the rest of the world beyond the veil accepted the Faeries’ help when we needed it and did nothing further to challenge them after.

How do you fight magic when you have none?

Hopelessness steals through my heart, gripping it like barbed wire.

If I’m to believe Fenrother and the queen, not only am I pregnant, but I’m stuck here until I give birth and afterwards…

Fenrother dies.

And he knew this.

And he continued on his path to destruction anyway, without even thinking how it would affect me…

how it would affect any child I might have.

There was a curse, and he left me with no choice at all.

I slam my fist against the ornate carved gold headboard.

It hurts, but not as much as my heart aches at his betrayal.

And his loss.

The door swings open, and a large Faerie male, dressed in the uniform of the queen, all tight black leather and straps, sneers at me.

She obviously has a preference for the pretty, big muscular males too.

This one has an air of a model around him, with his blond hair and bright azure eyes along with chiseled cheekbones and a sculpted jaw.

Of course, given their magic, the Faerie can probably be whatever they want to be, so I can’t trust the evidence of my own eyes.

“You are required for an audience with Queen Mab,” he says.

“I’ve had one, thanks.” I turn my head away from him.

“I’m good.”

He yanks my chain from the ring as easily as plucking fruit from a tree, hauling me upright.

“It isn’t your choice, human,” he snarls, turning his back and stomping through the door, dragging me with him.

Clearly this sort of work is beneath him as I’m pulled roughly down a stone passage of glittering dark granite, lit by flickering Faerie light.

I manage to match his pace enough so the chain around my wrist isn’t slicing into my flesh.

The passage turns into a set of stairs winding down in a tight spiral.

I make sure I keep close behind the Faerie as he descends, grumbling about humans being pathetic, because the last thing I want is to fall.

The stairs open out into a larger room, still granite.

This one has a scent of many bodies and is some sort of guard room, with a number of other ridiculously good looking, leather clad Faerie males lounging around.

“See you got human duty, Yarain.” One of them laughs.

“Fuck you,” my guard grumbles.

“If you’re lucky, you might get to fuck her, although she doesn’t look worth a fuck,” another sneers.

“This one is already with child. She’s been fucking with the Wyrm.” Yarain pulls on my chain until my body slams into his.

“She’s tainted goods.” His handsome face twists into something resembling a demon, like the queen did before him.

The Faerie are not pleasant creatures, and it makes me wonder exactly what Fenrother was battling in the Night Lands.

He shoves me back from him, and I stumble, causing the others to snort with laughter.

“Still good for a fuck though,” one of them says.

“Which is all humans are good for.”

To my surprise, Yarain slams his body into the speaker who tumbles to the floor before scrambling back to his feet.

“She’s under the protection of the queen and not to be touched,” he snarls.

“Not by any of you.”

“I wouldn’t touch anything which has been anywhere near that Wyrm,” one of the others grumbles.

“Good.” Yarain squares his shoulders and tugs on my chain.

“Don’t forget it.”

The Faerie metal catches my flesh, and I hiss in pain.

If Yarain hears me, he ignores it, and I’m dragged behind him again as he exits the room out into a large courtyard.

It reminds me of Lord Guyzance’s palace, filled with plants, set out in a formal way with a haze of magic hovering over it.

The scent is artificial, the glimmering butterflies unnatural.

I’m trailed through the box hedges, gravel crunching underfoot as we approach a tall tower, the smooth darkened granite gleaming in the light.

Ahead a wooden door, covered in gold, swings open, and I find myself in the queen’s palace, a long gallery entrance filled with light and opulence, lined with huge columns which terminate in a vast vaulted ceiling, all designed to show her power and wealth.

Our footsteps echo as Yarain walks quickly through the gallery which terminates in a set of outlandishly lavish crystal and gold doors which have to be twenty feet tall.

Yarian halts, pulls on his uniform, and flicks back his hair.

A great set of translucent wings slowly appears from his back, and he gives them an exploratory shake.

The doors open in front of us, and without a glance at me, he strides through into the Faerie queen’s court.