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“I…This is Duke Ravenshade’s land, and you are trespassing.” I had to admit, Berenger’s defiance was impressive, given who he was speaking to. Whatever circumstances brought a Fae male—and an entire battalion—to Varitus, they had to be dire.
A thousand years ago, a Covenant had been struck, the terms eternal and unbreakable. Descendants remained in Varitus and the Fae remained on the other side of the wall, in Caladrius.
Except…My bruised, beaten body became a cold, distant thing, panic roaring in my ears, in my very soul.
Except every hundred years.
I froze in place, as if that might somehow keep me safe.How long had it been since the last Scything?
I couldn’t remember.
Blood pounded behind my right eye, like my heart had been transplanted into my skull. If that’s what tonight was…not only were we dying tonight, we’d die terrible deaths, if the legends were true. As if he was following the same line of thought, Berenger whimpered, but his fingers wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard I fought to peel him off me.
More warriors emerged from the forest. A hundred, perhaps, though I’d stopped counting, focusing instead on the Fae male, the way he glanced up at the castle, his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip as if already tasting blood.
“Perhaps I should introduce myself, young mongrels. I am Solok, Right Hand of the Fae King of Caladrius. These lands might have been gifted byyour king.” His snort told me exactly what he thought of King Vandran.
“But there is a cost for peace, and I have come to collect our due.”
5
ANARIA
Everyone in Varitus had heard of Solok.
The Axe. The Wraith. The Right Hand to the Fae King.
He was here to collect his hundred-year tithe to Carex Centaria, the Fae King of Caladrius.
The Scything was a blood sacrifice performed once a century to keep the ward between our realms intact. I remembered huddling around the crackling fire to hear the Mistress explain—in gruesome, graphic detail—how Solok exacted the price for keeping the wall whole.
According to the Mistress, Solok would bring a pack of monsters to consume his hapless victims, bones and all. He’d leave behind just one survivor, disfigured or blinded, as the sole witness to what had happened.
So no one ever forgot the price to be paid. Or who would come to collect.
Thosewere the stories I’d heard.
The Descendants knew a different tale.
Since they were the all-powerful chosen ones, the lucky Descendant would be whisked away to Caladrius and showered in wealth and immortality and magic, the kind this realm has never seen.
All I knew was this—my chances of being eaten by pack of monsters were far more likely than becoming rich and immortal.
The closer Solok got, the less I could breathe, then Berenger shoved me forward so I plunged face-first into the gravel path, landing at Solok’s feet.
Magic gathered as my captors attempted to dematerialize, yet they remained frozen in place, unable to escape. Out of the corner of my eye, wetness tracked down Estienne’s right leg and the tang of urine sharpened the air. Solok’s mouth turned up in a wicked half-smile, and I swallowed down my own paralyzing fear.
I didn’t piss myself, though.
“Sweet little Descendent mongrels, far too drunk for a proper hunt.” His soulless eyes flicked down to me while I huddled in the dirt. “Yet, you caught one.” His derisive sniff made me want to slither away with the worms. “Not worth the effort, if you ask me.”
Even though I was staring straight at the ground, his dark shadows gripped the nape of my neck with cruel, cold fingers, squeezing tightly.
“Get on your feet, girl. Let’s have a look at you.”
I’d entertained a fleeting hope that I could escape his notice, but that withered away, the second Solok spoke. I just hoped he killed me fast, and didn’t make me suffer.
A quick death was all I wished for, as I climbed onto unsteady feet, my ruined dress fluttering around me, my body shaking uncontrollably as his ice-cold magic lifted my face to meet his.
