“You should have left them, Mirasole.” One of the few men spoke, his massive fists clenched at his sides. He was slightly older than the rest, his face leathery from too much drink, his eyes slightly rimmed red. His beard was long and scraggly and resembled a rat’s nest.
If she had to guess, he was only a quarter fae, if that.
On closer look, she doubted any of them were full fae.
“They would’ve died if we did nothing,” Mirasole argued, hands on her hips, refusing to cower under the man’s glower.
“That’s none of our business,” he shouted back, taking a threatening step toward the smaller woman. A thump much like hail fell on the roof, and the whole room cringed, fearful eyes scanning the ceiling and walls. It was only then that she noticed the windows had been boarded shut.
A hush fell over the room, not even the children whimpering. It broke her heart to see a few of them clutched small eating knives in their trembling hands.
The rain grew heavier, and Morgan’s eyes widened when she realized that it wasn’t rain but a lot of somethings landing on the roof. Scurrying feet sounded like thunder as whatever it was skittered across the ceiling. Another thud hit the wall, thenanother, until it sounded like thousands of critters were scraping at the wood, trying to pry their way inside the building.
The people backed away until they were huddled in the middle of the room, none of them with even a tiny spark of hope left that a rescue would come.
“Caedmon…” He tore his gaze away from the children, fierce anger making his eyes glow, and she saw the same resolve reflected back at her.
“Whatever you need.” He didn’t even hesitate.
Atlas squeezed her shoulder, not even waiting for her to ask, offering his silent support.
She could’ve kissed them both.
She should’ve been focusing on the trial, but she was an assassin to the core, born and raised, which meant she couldn’t turn her back on people in need…especially children.
If they did nothing, these people would die.
She couldn’t live with that, not when she could’ve done something to prevent it.
Morgan turned toward Mirasole, ignoring the man, knowing he would rather throw them to the wolves than help. “Tell us what’s happened to the village.”
Thumps and scratches sounded from underneath the floorboards like something was scurrying beneath their feet. Mirasole flinched and skipped nervously away. She huddled before them, her voice hushed.
“It arrived around a year ago.” She blew out a shaky breath, balling her hands in her skirt. “It happened so slowly at first that no one really noticed. A person would go missing. We just thought they moved somewhere better.”
She grimaced and brushed out her skirts before she lifted her chin. “A month later, two more people vanished, leaving behind everything they owned. They disappeared in the middle of the night without a word to anyone. We set up patrols, but it didn’t matter. More and more people still disappeared before morning.”
The door rattled when something solid thudded against it.Mirasole scowled and thrust an angry finger at it. “Then they showed up.”
“They?” Caedmon tugged Morgan away from the door, menace darkening his eyes.
“Spiders.” The village dickhead stomped toward them with a snarl.
Morgan couldn’t repress a shudder and glanced at the walls apprehensively, her eyes stinging when she forgot to blink. “That noise is spiders?”
“Hundreds of them.” Mirasole rubbed her forehead, looking beyond tired as she pushed her braids over her shoulder with a shaky hand. “They come back two to three times a week to terrorize us. If they find something to eat, they stay away longer, but the forest is empty. We’re barely able to keep ourselves fed. Anyone who had somewhere else to go has already fled. We’re what’s left.
“It’s like they’re aware their food source is dwindling. They’re getting more aggressive and setting traps.” Tears crowded her eyes, and she furiously blinked them away before they could fall. “I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be able to hold out.”
“Then we’ll need to set a trap of our own.” Morgan flashed her a smile and glanced around the room. “Is this everyone?”
“Yes, but?—”
“Don’t think you can come in here and put my people at risk,” the loud-mouth fae blustered as he stormed forward, his chest puffed up with righteous indignation. “I won’t stand for it. If you want to put your life at risk, go ahead, but don’t expect us to help.”
He acted like they’d brought the monsters to them, and Morgan barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she smiled up at him sweetly. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to save your fellow villagers.”
He narrowed his gaze, a vicious look entering his eyes. When he would’ve stepped forward, Caedmon crossed his arms, the tipof his sword pointing to the ceiling. The man eyed it warily, his lips pressed tight, and backed away, clearly not happy.
