Page 63
ALICE
T he queen leaves me tied up in the garden, sweeping away with her courtiers without a backward glance.
There’s no sign of Yarain, so it looks like I’m here for the foreseeable future.
I find my chain reaches far enough I can get to the fountain, and I’m able to wash my arm clean.
Dark shapes dart out from the fountain to where my blood leaks into the water, making my shudder and withdraw my arm.
Faerie hills want to look benign, pretty even, but under the surface, there is an undercurrent of evil.
Unlike the wild moors around Fenrother’s castle, I know there is nothing here I can trust.
I slide off the side of the fountain and onto the ground.
My arm is still running with blood, and it drips onto the gravel and hisses.
My blood hisses ? I look closer, unable to work out what is happening.
“You are human,” a voice whispers.
I look up to see Abbe peeking around from the other side of the fountain.
“Your blood contains iron, something they cannot stand.”
“I thought the Faerie mated with humans?” I lean back against the cold granite of the fountain, suddenly more tired than I’ve been in my entire life.
“When the urge takes them. They might want to think they are better than all other creatures, but they have their base desires like any living thing,” Abbe says.
“Their sophistication comes at a cost. Their glamour is exactly that, a shield hiding their true nature. Mating with a human causes them to lose some of their power, which is why their halflings, the witches and warlocks, have theirs.”
“So, mating with humans weakens them?” My mind is whirling with this new information.
“But creating a new life strengthens them.” Abbe sighs.
“It is the way the world and the Yeavering turn.”
“I get that.” I close my eyes briefly, opening them to stare at an increasingly stormy sky.
“I just wish humans had understood it too, before letting the Faerie into our world without question.”
“Survival is the driver for all life. Do not blame your fellow humans for wanting to live,” Abbe says as several large raindrops hit my dress and arms. “I have to go.”
“Wait…release me, please? It’s starting to rain.”
“I cannot.” She looks upwards.
“The magic is too strong for me alone, and besides, your Wyrm is coming.”
“Fenrother is coming?” I ask, my voice cracking.
But Abbe has gone. I am, apparently, alone once again in the rapidly darkening garden.
The flowers look like the colour is slowly being drained from them, turning them to black ash.
I get to my feet, gripping the side of the fountain for assistance.
The water within has completely disappeared, leaving only a layer of dark green slime.
I back away from it, knowing there were things there earlier which I don’t want to discover more about.
The chain tinkles merrily on the gravel, as if the damn thing is sentient and enjoying its work.
I go to where it is buried in the ground and heave on it.
There’s no real surprise when it doesn’t budge.
“Trying to escape?” Yarain towers over me.
“Trying to get out of the rain.” I glare at him, my hair now plastered to my head and my clothes sopping wet.
He goes to grab me but takes hold of my injured arm.
I hiss in pain, and he cries out, stumbling back, staring at his hand.
It steams in the rain, as if burnt.
Drops of fresh blood drop onto the chain.
It too steams.
Of course, it is enchanted with Faerie magic.
I seize my advantage, swiping my hand down my arm and covering it with the red stuff, I curl my fingers around the chain and pull again.
This time it gives, snapping at the point I touch it, setting me free.
I wipe at my arm again, covering both hands with blood and holding them up to Yarain, before wiping one hand down my face and the other down my uninjured arm.
He stumbles back, fear in his eyes.
“Now I’m escaping,” I say before taking off at a run out of the formal garden, through the now monochrome archway, and out into a grey field beyond.
If Yarain is following, I don’t look back.
Instead, I hitch up the dress and skirts as best as I can and run as if Fenrother is chasing me.
At any time, I expect to be jerked to a halt or have some sort of spell put on me which means I am unable to move, but it doesn’t happen.
Instead, as I cross the field heading towards a collection of Faerie dwellings, I hear behind me what can only be described as a series of explosions.
Are explosions even a thing in the Yeavering?
My breath ragged, I turn to look, knowing it could mean I give away any advantage I might have.
The sight which greets me is absolutely not what I was expecting at all.
It looks like hell has come to the Faerie hills.
The queen’s castle burns with a purple and blue flame.
Here and there, reds and yellows flicker but it’s nothing compared to the main event.
How is this even possible?
A castle made of magic shouldn’t be able to burn at all.
Unless there is other magic at work.
Pain grips my left side, robbing what remains of my breath from my body and causing me to drop to my knees.
I clutch at my injured arm, but the crushing pain in my chest isn’t related to my injured arm.
It has to be something else, most likely related to the Faerie and their attempts to break me.
I’m not going to give them the satisfaction.
I force myself to my feet and stumble towards the dwellings.
They should contain Duegar and if I have any luck left at all, they will hopefully be sympathetic towards me like Abbe and the ones who inhabited the palace.
I really, really hope they got out before it set on fire.
My chest cramps, my entire body feeling like it’s folding in on itself as an incredible pain sears through me.
Whatever Mab did, I think I’m done for.
As my vision dims, I think I see a shadow in the sky, silhouetted against the flames.
Could it be…
“Fenrother?” I can only whisper his name as the darkness claims me.
Table of Contents
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- Page 63 (Reading here)
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