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Her breath was sweet as she leaned forward and kissed MaryAnne’s cheek. Her head bent… and she struck. The fiery pain of being pierced by the drya’s venomous fangs rushed through her, and then there was nothing but darkness. She dropped into the female’s arms as the world fell away from her on a tide of pain and fire.
ChapterForty-Five
Raskyuil stormed toward Elwyn’s tent, the small skull held in his hand. The gathering of angry fae at his back sent a furious swell of pride through him. While there were many who chose to retire to their tents and not get involved, he was surprised how many stood in support of him, who refused to allow such atrocities to happen within their carnival any longer. Some of those who joined him were expected—the goblins and the orcs. He hadn’t expected for the siren and harpies to join, nor for the night aelves to turn on Elwyn. And he certainly hadn’t expected the nagini to lend his strength.
With MaryAnne’s flashlight in his other hand, he strode down the main path, his jaw clenched with determination. The night was within its last hours. He could feel as acutely as any creature born of the night. The sun slowly drawing closer hummed across his skin, but there was something else—a potent magic that stirred the air, whirling much like a vortex as it pulsed. It was barely a tickle at first but grew rapidly as it stretched over the carnival. But now he could feel it, he pulled at him like a voracious wind as he made his way toward the large tent towering near the entrance.
The aelf on guard by the entrance drew up short, visibly startling at their arrival before hurriedly ducking into the tent. Raskyuil bit back a grim smile. If Elwyn had not expected the possibility of their opposition to his plan, he was aware of it now. Drawing to a stop in front of the tent, Raskyuil lifted the skull, inciting the bellows and shrieks from the fae around him.
“Elwyn!” he roared, his deep voice echoing. “Elwyn de Vorthan hath Saeul, show yourself or we shall drag you out!”
The flap over the entrance fluttered and was thrust aside as the aelf stormed out with several guards falling in line behind him. Elwyn faltered, his pace slowing as his eyes skimmed over his accusers, his lips parting as the blood drained from his pale features. Even the males who had fanned out behind him grimaced as they exchanged wary looks, a few of them shifting their weight uncertainly in place. Elwyn’s eyes finally snapped to Raskyuil and lifted to the skull he held, his eyes rounding in shock.
Did he really believe that no one would ever discover his secret?
“Raskyuil, what is the meaning of this?” he demanded, pulling his dressing coat around him against the cool breeze. “What are you all doing here?”
“What are we doing here? We have brought forth your accuser,” Raskyuil shouted, and sharp laughter sprung from the crowd as he stepped forward and set the skull at the aelf’s feet. Straightening, he gave Elwyn a hard look, his mouth curving in a predatory smile as a harpy, a goblin, and two orcs likewise placed skulls upon the ground that they had dug up when he’d shown the mass grave. “Do you not recognize them?”
Elwyn’s eyes dropped to the skull, and he took several steps back from it and jerked when he tripped over the tail of the nagini who had slid unsuspectingly close to him without even the guards between them becoming aware. Spinning around, he glanced at the serpentine fae and swallowed before turning slowly to face the crowd gathered before him. Comprehension dawning upon his face, Elwyn’s eyes snapped back up to Raskyuil, his regal comportment wavering as he was truly faced with the grimness of his situation.
“Wait!” he begged, lifting his hands in front of him, pleading. “You cannot think that I did this,” he protested, his voice becoming lost in the angry hum of protest as two large orcs shouldered aside his guards and grabbed him firmly by each arm.
Raskyuil held up a hand, and the angry cacophony died down. His eyes narrowed on the male. “I want to hear this. You dare to say that you did not do this when these bones were found with many others in a graveyard deep in the woods just outside of the carnival grounds—a place you lead the carnival back to winter after winter!”
He whipped an arm toward the fae clustered around him. “They’ve seen the evidence of your crime. They have witnessed the loss of family in the nearby town, corrupted and rotting from foul magic. And yet you, who have spun a spell just this night to sacrifice to the carnival, deny that this was you?”
“I deny it!” Elwyn shouted as he strained against the orcs, his eyes darting frantically, beseechingly, among the fae who had followed and obeyed him his words within the carnival as law. “I have taken each of you in when you were lost, some half-starving,” he accused with a pleading look to the harpies before looking meaningfully toward Gorfal, “and others abandoned and left to die. And you would think me to be a murderer? A killer of—” he swallowed, his eyes falling upon the small, undersized skulls “—children?”
It was nearly believable, but Raskyuil was not convinced. His jaw set as he glared at the male.
“Did you not choose to winter here?” he challenged, unwilling to back down. The male held nothing over him. Not even sentimentality over the past. “Did you not seek to expand the carnival?”
“To provide safety! What value do lingering ghosts have? They are just shadows that remain. Nothing more. The remnants of their essence will provide better protection by feeding into the carnival. It is for the same reason I led us to winter here when it was pointed out that The Bend would feed the carnival well throughout the winter months.”
“Your carnival is sick,” Raskyuil retorted bluntly, his teeth gnashing with his every word as he stalked toward the male. “The fairy hounds surround it like a dying beast because its madness calls to them. Do you not see, or do you purposefully turn a blind eye to the stench of rot that lays over this place and its people? It has nursed the carnival for winters as your servitor has slowly gone mad, terrifying its own people to keep it within its madness of safety.”
He leaned down, peering into the male’s eyes, and saw both guilt and awareness there. He growled, enjoying the way the aelf flinched back from him. “You’ve seen it. I can see it in your face. Stop your spell and free the younglings.”
“I—I can’t,” Elwyn hissed bitterly, his bowing as his body sagged. He gave a miserable shake of his head, his pale hair falling messily around him. “The carnival has it now,” he rasped thickly, “and it won’t let go. I tried the moment I felt it spin out of my control. It hasn’t consumed anything yet, but the storm is only growing as it searches for sustenance.”
Patience snapping, Raskyuil’s hand closed around his throat. He wanted to choke the life from him, and judging from the expression of the orcs who held him, neither one would have objected. He shook the aelf and glared down at him. The male didn’t scent of lies, but aelves were also clever with their skill in magic. Still… something the male said stuck. “Who suggested that you winter here?”
Elwyn’s brow furrowed as he tipped his head back to meet Raskyuil’s eyes, something akin to horror dawning within them. “Why, the very same male who suggested that I acquire the arch-mage’s library and the spell contained within it to secure our safety.”
“Who?” The question hissed from him, and every fae member of the carnival had fallen silent as they listened so that the single word vibrated through the grounds.
“Nathiel,” Elwyn whispered, that name shredding Raskyuil as he flung the aelf away and bellowed with rage.
His eyes swept over the angry faces that stared back at him, a hum of lethal anger hanging in the air.
“Find him,” he spat. “Find Nathiel and bring him to me.”
ChapterForty-Six
Her head felt like it was ready to burst. MaryAnne groaned and lifted her head and tipped it back against the solid, twisted wall behind her. A soft clicking sound filled her ears, and she cautiously opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the fire lit in the giant metal tripod in the middle of a root that appeared to be made of many segments of twisted wood joined together. Shadows from the fire danced over the knolls in the wood, giving them a haunted look.
No. Not segments of wood. Trees. It was as if several trees had grown from a single spot, their thick, twisting trunks creating living walls.
