Page 3

Oleander

I ’ve been in this wretched cell for seven days. Seven entire damned days. I have better things to be doing.

Every other cell, in the admittedly well-kept gaol is empty. I have bread and cheese and water twice a day, and a toilet tucked behind a curtain in my cell.

I’ve certainly been in worse dungeons.

But I’m bored out of my mind. That black-haired Captain had not taken my meager possessions, however, before he tossed me in here.

After a week of this, I have my captors’ schedule pretty well memorized, and the small windows at the top of the walls allow some time-keeping from the sun. So when the door swings slowly inward in the late afternoon, I sit upright, confused, hurriedly tucking my journal into my bag.

A tall man strides in like he owns the place. My eyes take him in: rich, deep brown hair that is shaggy and wavy, body slender but muscular in a lithe way. Clothed in expensive-but-functional clothes, soft calf height boots, brown trousers, a loose linen shirt topped with a heavy, brown cloak with the hood tossed back. Markings cover what I can see of his hands and arms, though I cannot tell if they are natural or the human tattoos that have become popular.

He walks to my cell and crouches down, his gleaming eyes take me in. I don’t break his gaze.

I hear another Fae behind him but I don’t want to look away from this man. I’d guess he’s some type of earth Fae, but he has no obvious characteristics that would mark him any certain species. Rumors vary from shifter to parasitic to Sol and back again.

He continues our staring contest but I can do this all day. Not like I have anywhere better to be.

Eventually his eyes drop to take me in again and I feel uncharacteristically self-conscious as they drag over me. Perhaps it’s the rough-spun dress, even if I was vain enough to make sure it was well-fitted and a flattering color for my skin and hair.

However, it’s more likely that I have no means to defend myself against this Fae, the one that half the realm at large considers psychotic and murderous.

And yet, here I am. I need to get a feel for him as soon as possible because I need to play this right. Play him right.

“What’s your name?” His voice is deep.

“Allie, sir,” I lie, letting my eyes flick to the floor. If he’s really a power-hungry maniac, he’ll probably like a sweet submissive woman.

A grunt. “And why did you come to my keep?”

“To... to join you, sir,” I let myself falter, “I... I worked in King Alder’s court and... I hope to be of use .” I emphasize the word use but keep my eyes downward so as not to be too forward.

“You’d be better use to your family, don’t you think, woman?”

I look up at him. His face is blank.

“My parents are long dead. My brother left me in that lecherous court. He can rot.”

All true statements. Best to speak truth as much as possible, in case they have a soothsayer somewhere.

Another grunt and he stands, turning to the person behind him. “Get her out, bring her to the main hall.”

And Commander Lonan, the most feared Fae in the realm, sweeps out on quiet feet.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

The other Fae steps forwards and my eyes snap to them.

He’s taller, and broad—thick and muscular in an entirely different manner, and has a wild head of dark auburn hair. Freckles sweep his nose and cheeks and on any other it might make them look adorable. But his sun-tanned skin and rough hands speak of a man not to be trifled with.

This is General Kai, if rumors are to be believed. But Misery’s Militia has done an excellent job of obfuscating the truth.

Some say General Kai is a dragon shifter with true-red hair, some say he’s of dwarf heritage with mousey brown hair, yet others say he’s a Sylph with green fingers. But many, and my personal research, says he’s a barrel chested dark ginger who is completely loyal to Lonan and would kill you as soon as look at you.

My eyes flick down. This man’s energy absolutely says he likes his women subservient, and the glare he has leveled at me is enough for me to even feel a bit like one.

I hear the key in the lock and stay still.

“Come, child,” he says in a rough, underused voice, his hand out.

I place my fingers in his warm hand as I bite down a retort. I had best settle into my role quickly because I am not sure I have the self-restraint to fight both my mouth and face on my reactions to these two assholes for long.

He blinks down at me before he tugs me to my feet and waits while I get my balance, clutching my bag to my chest. Once I’m steady, he guides us out of the neat gaol, past one of the men at arms and out into the narrow hallway. On my way in, that shifter had dragged me down a long hallway and a flight of steps as I hissed and spit at him. While I don’t mind them, most of the realm mistrusts shifters. There is a reason not many are found outside of Guivre Shores’ lands.

And now, on the way out, this feared General goes at my slow pace, even letting me pause to pant on the flight of stairs. He’s entirely more solicitous of me than I was expecting. But he keeps his hands to himself and his riotous green eyes forward. My suspicion of him only grows with each step down the wide stone hallway of the main floor.

This keep is young, comparatively. And was built with some haste, if stories are true. So while the basements and main floor is stone, the walls and upper floors are all rough-hewn wood. I can still scent the living trees and while it would smell of death to some varieties of earth Fae, to me, it merely sparks some of my only happy memories of childhood.

My mother preferred to keep her fireplace burning almost year round in her chambers and the earthy, warm scent reminds me of that. She always said it was her human blood that made her chilly. I stare straight ahead and lock down my thoughts of her.

The General turns, grips the brass knobs of a set of arched doors and pushes them inward.

The first thing I take in as the doors swing open is the lack of guards. None outside the doors, none inside, none standing nearby. Only one woman with weapons, her hair short and purple, standing behind the Commander. My eyes settle upon the massive fireplace at the end of the hall. The mighty, circular wooden table dominates the room, and near the doors is the Commander. I look down and notice that his slender feet are bare and buried in the rug.

I quite nearly raise an eyebrow at how safe he seems to appear. Not advisable , I think to myself.

In front of him is a plate of food and a goblet. Three other places are set.

His eyes sweep up me, feet to forehead; I look down again.

“Come, sit,” he says, hand out, in a hospitable gesture. His deep voice seems smoother now that I’m not in a cell but I don’t understand why.

I hesitate and suddenly the General’s hand is on the small of my back. I jump, shocked at his touch, then hurriedly step forward, going to sit directly across from the Commander.

I see him and the General exchange a glance.

The purple haired Fae sits next to him while the General sits next to me, moving two of the plates in front of us.

“Eat.”

It’s a command and thus my natural instinct is to refuse, but I’m starving.

“Thank you,“ I murmur, picking up my wine and drinking deep before digging into some wild fowl with a mushroom sauce.

I sense their eyes on me but I keep my gaze at my plate as I eat.

Eventually, they begin to speak amongst themselves. I listen closely but the very little that might be useful they seem to use code words. I sneak glances up. General Kai is younger than he first appeared, perhaps not much older than I. He’s broad and tall, but he seems muscular in the useful manner, not the pretty muscles that some males seem proud of.

The earth Fae I’ve learned is named Lilac is speaking. “Well, if we could—”

The door swings open and my eyes turn. That raven shifter Captain who ‘found’ me. His eyes land on me and I look down.

“Ah, glad to see you haven’t killed her, Lonan,” he says in a congenial tone as a servant sweeps in to set a place for him. He tugs off his jacket, revealing his muscular arms. His skin is a rich topaz color.

He continues, “But why is she at our dinner table? She smells.”

I slowly turn my face to him and glare. He grins at me, but there is absolutely no fire in his eyes.

Before I can think, my mouth has gotten away from me, “I wouldn’t smell if I hadn’t been left to rot for a week.”

Commander Lonan chuckles. “There’s some spark,” he says, tone pleased, before his face shutters and he turns away.

General Kai clears his throat as he glares at me. “What’s your name, child?”

“Allie Landsend. And I imagine we’re nearly of an age, so it seems odd that you insist on calling me a child.”

The Commander chuckles again and glances at Kai. He turns his attention back to me. I struggle not to squirm under his now hard gaze. “And what do you have to tell me that was important enough for Caspian to beg for your life?”

“Beg is a strong word,” Caspain drawls, drinking deep of his wine.

I ignore him; I don’t break Lonan’s gaze. “I worked as a maid for one of the King’s consorts. I know all manner of useful things.”

Masculine chuckles erupt around me.

Commander Lonan retorts, “And exactly why would pillow talk from that shitestain interest me? Hmm? Dirty linens and who’s knocked up with a bastard?” He leans back and grabs his goblet.

I raise my chin, refusing to be cowed by these idiots. “Are you so dense that you do not know that women run everything? I can tell you when he’s in whose rooms, when he’s dead drunk or prick-deep, what mornings he has meetings with his counselors, when he rides out because his one consort enjoys horseback riding more than riding him. I know which cook hates him for breaking her daughter’s heart, which guardsman has gambling debt, which is most like to call in sick, which the King is fucking on the sly, since he’s been tasked with creating an heir.”

The three men at the table blink, all frozen in surprise. Lilac chuckles, “She seems useful.”

A look crosses Commander Lonan’s face. He stares at me for a moment and I glare back at him. He smoothly stands, crossing the distance around the table to me swiftly.

Quite suddenly his hand is wrapped in my cloak and he has me pressed to the wall, a dagger to my neck. He’s glaring down at me, inexplicably angry.

I don’t break eye contact, though I probably should. I should weep, but I cannot find it within myself, so I settle for at least keeping my fool mouth shut and my magic locked.

I hear three chairs scrape back.

“Lonan,” a single, soft word of concern from General Kai.

But it’s Caspian’s voice that is upset. “Release her, Lo. Godsbelow, did you not see what was done to her?”

Our gazes are still locked, and I see something, concern perhaps, flicker in his dark eyes.

He keeps the dagger to my throat and eyes on mine, but leans away and grabs my skirts roughly in one hand.

I glower at him but do not flinch. I feel the cool air on my exposed legs as he gathers my skirts higher and higher.

I hear Lilac and General Kai make noises of outrage, yet I still do not drop Commander Lonan’s gaze.

When he, finally, slowly, looks away, down at my legs, I know what he sees. Magical ‘burns’ around my ankles that have never faded though the shackles themselves are long gone. Surely some bruises.

But Commander Lonan sheathes his blade so his hand may touch me, a feather-light graze, over the wide, wicked scar on the side of my thigh. And still I glare at him, though his eyes are upon my body.

My skirts drop and his eyes rise slowly. I find myself breathing hard, as though I’ve been running.

“Who did this to you?”