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Prick.
We keep going, anger humming in my blood just below my unease. The houses scattered here and there look desolate, weather-worn, with broken windows and peeling paint. But as I study them, there’s more. Claw marks are cut into the wood on the doors and walls, deep and unsettling.
“What didthat?” Cobar asks.
“Something big,” Zane says. “Maybe a bear.”
Every muscle in my body stiffens. “No, if a bear wanted in these doors, it’d get in these doors. I’m pretty sure those claws belong to something… unnatural.”
“Unnatural? Fucking Death Fae,” Cobar mutters.
Sulien glares at him and his words come out in a hiss of breath. “Hold your tongue.”
Cobar lifts a brow. “I’m sure if I don’t, they’ll hold it for me.”
I snicker, even though it’s not that funny. Suddenly, the idea of the four of us visiting the most powerful, and most twisted, of the fae feels stupid. We wanted to get here quicker than a large party could travel. And we knew if we told anyone our plans, hell would rain down on us. No one would let us go, despite us being the royals. The elders might even get involved, claiming insanity at the loss of our mate.
But we made a calculated risk coming here, which is feeling more risky with each step we take. I hope it pays off. Fuck, itbetterpay off.
A bell rings from a tower in the distance. Finally, there’s movement in the town. Doors open and people emerge. Only, the people we pass look more like ghosts than people. They’re gaunt and hollow with sunken eyes, and flesh that seems to hang off their thin frames. A few cough weakly in their ratty clothes that hang off of their frail bodies. And as strange a sight as the four of us must make, no one looks in our direction.
How can they live like this?
I notice that random gravesites are scattered throughout the town, reminding us of where we are and the house we’re headed to. There’s no way to enter this place with confidence. It’s disconcerting. Hopelessness sits in the atmosphere like a thick smoke, choking out any light and joy.
The dark castle on the hill provides a background to the desolation of the town. Something roils inside of me knowing those who reside in the castle live well while everyone out here suffers. Yes, many humans aren’t treated well in the courts, but this? This is something else. Something more than poverty and hunger.
I steel my nerves as we approach the castle. It seems to me like everyone in that castle is bad, and I’m mentally preparing myself for it. The structure looms above us, black as the night’s sky, with high, pointy towers and dark windows. I know that many fae live within those walls, and yet, the place feels empty of life.
It’s unsettling how much I don’t want to go into that castle.
“I kind of wish we could meet the lady at the town pub,” Cobar jokes.
It wouldn’t be a bad idea, if it wasn’t a terrible insult to the lady of the house. “Remind me never to come back here again.”
“Agreed,” we all say as one.
The castle doors open for us as we approach, and a woman stands in the doorway. I rub my eyes, thinking my vision is off, but the woman is a corpse. Her exposed jawbone jars me, and I fail not to gawk while she stands in front of us, quietly.
Of course the fucking House of Death has dead servants…
She gestures with her hand for us to enter, then she leads us into the castle when we dismount our horses. There’s a dark elegance to this structure, built with heavy, dark stones in a color I’ve rarely seen in nature outside of a stormy sky. Candles light the halls, and shadows of unseen figures flit about the walls. Spirits? I don’t know.
More servants, like the one guiding us, leave rooms with pillows, blankets, and food. Doing what my laughing servants do, only with flesh hanging from bone, their steps unnatural and slow. The only sounds around are our own footsteps and the clinking of the servants' bones.
Our guide stops us in front of a giant set of double doors. They open at her touch, and we enter a throne room where Lady Grave sits upon her dais. She’s a beautiful woman with long, black hair and dark eyes. She’s tall, well-built in a way that’s almost masculine, and she wears a brown gown with gold jewelry that decorates her low neckline.
Her legs are spread in an almost possessive position, like she’s trying to dominate more of the copper throne, and her hands grip the intricately carved armrests. The throne reaches high behind her, seemingly made of copper, sharp pieces of glass, and bones. The copper sheen and the reflection from the glass is the brightest thing in the room save the flickering light from the torches and the candles.
I can just barely make out more of the dead bodies that serve this court lining the walls of the room, but these wear armor instead of the clothes of servants. They also move ever-so-slightly as if being pulled and jerked around by an unseen string. We walk past them and our boots sound loud against the stone floor as we approach the lady on her throne.
It’s strange how much I don’t want to go near her, even though I also know she isn’t the most frightening of the fae from this house. Sheispowerful, but not the most powerful, and that’s an unsettling thought as her eyes lock onto mine.
“Oh, the four fated princes have lost their betrothed,” she drags out, her voice deeper than I expected as she jeers and laughs at us.
At us. Her four princes. These House of the Dead Fae truly care about nothing and no one.
But Sulien doesn’t appear fazed. “That is correct, Lady Grave.” He inclined his head. Not quite a bow, but a show of respect.
