Page 9 of On Brutal Thrones

“All of yours, actually.”

Talon turns around. “Absolutely not.”

“I didn't ask you.”

“I heard cutting and my hair mentioned in the same thought. I felt compelled to intervene.”

Even Thorian looks faintly amused before turning his attention back to the tunnel.

And then I remember.

They know.

The thought that they know I’m a fae should make me sick. For most of my life, simply imagining anyone discovering what I am was enough to terrify me. My mother made certain of that.

But the secret is out now, and instead of feeling exposed, I feel lighter. Nothing about the way they are with me has changed. Fenric is still carrying me as though he'd do it for as long as necessary. Talon is still being ridiculous and making me laugh. Thorian is still leading us forward while checking over his shoulder every few minutes to make sure I'm all right.

I spent my whole life carrying this secret alone.

Now, I don't have to.

“That’s—” Thorian starts, but then he tenses up, his gaze going hard before he swings around. “Be on the ready. Something⁠—”

A growl rips through the space, bouncing between the walls and ricocheting around the crystals, and I feel Fenric tensing beneath me.

“Here,” I say, trying to shift out of his arms. “Put me down. I can⁠—”

His grips solidifies, and in a voice more commanding than I’ve ever heard him use before, he says, “You’re not going anywhere, Nyx.”

It stills me. What’s wrong?

Thorian passes the torch to Fenric, then reaches over his shoulder for the sword strapped across his back, the one he quietly took from another competitor days ago. He’s still a little pale, but his movements have grown steadier since we left the crystals behind. Steel whispers against leather just as two massive wolves charge out of the darkness, claws skidding across crystal as they barrel toward us. Their snarls fill the narrow passage, so loud and close that I feel them in my chest.

“Move!” Thorian roars, meeting the first wolf head-on.

The impact nearly knocks him from his feet. He catches himself against the wall and swings, the blade flashing through the torchlight as the wolf jerks back just in time, teeth snapping inches from Thorian’s arm. From the dark gray of his fur, I think it’s Eswyth. He’s enormous, his shoulders nearly spanning the passage, but his size works against him here. Every time he tries to turn, his claws skid across the slick floor or his body slams into the wall, and Thorian quickly realizes it, pressing him harder and giving him no room to recover.

Talon throws himself aside as the second wolf lunges. He hits the wall with one boot and pushes off it, twisting out of reach before landing lightly with his dagger already in his left hand. Vale. She’s smaller than Eswyth, but much faster, swiping at Talon with enough force that I hear her claws cutting through the air. He slips beyond their reach, moving with that infuriating vampire grace, always seeming to know where she’ll strike a heartbeat before she does.

Fenric’s arms tighten around me as he backs us away from the fight, and I can feel the rapid beat of his heart against my side. The tunnel has become a storm of noise. Growls and shouts mingle with steel striking stone and claws scraping crystal, every sound ricocheting off the walls until I can’t tell where any of them are coming from. It makes everything feel closer than it is, like wolves surround us instead of there being only two.

Talon is moving more easily now, though he’s still not quite as quick as he was before the cave. Whatever the crystals did to him is wearing off, but Vale hasn’t lost any of her speed.

Vale lunges, but Talon ducks beneath her claws. “Getting tired?”

She snaps at his face, and he leans back just far enough to keep his nose. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Vale swipes at him, and Talon spins away, leaving her claws to scrape hard across the crystals instead. She jerks her paw back, leaving streaks of blood behind.

Talon winces theatrically, though the slight tremor in his dagger hand gives away how much the crystals have taken out of him. “Aw. Need to go lick your wounds?”

A low growl rumbles from her chest as she stalks toward him. Talon raises his dagger, ready for another attack, but at the last possible second, Vale pivots.

Not toward Talon.

Toward Thorian.

“Thorian!” I scream.