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Then he slumped forward, dead at my hands.
A wave of dizziness and darkness swept over me as more agony flashed through me, reminding me of my injuries. I was going to lose consciousness. I’d murdered an innocent man, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
The trio of remaining humans stepped closer amidst screams and boos from the fae crowd. I struggled to sit up, to move at all, but my body refused to obey me. Weakness and pain flooded me in equal measures, and my grip on my ice blade slackened. It and the man pierced upon it both fell to the floor, useless.
My ears rang as the world slipped away from me. I was proving my mortal weakness to my hateful onlookers, and the glamoured humans were going to murder me while I was helpless.Mother? Father? Are you waiting for me?I wondered.
As I faded, I thought I heard a shout, louder and deeper than any of the others echoing through the arena. “Enough!”Snarling and screams filled my ears. Something white tore across my vision, something that made the floor shudder with its pounding footsteps and rumbling growls. But I couldn’t tell what was happening as everything went dark and still.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Iopened my eyes to a familiar bedroom of stone, the high window to my right admitting a watery light that told me it couldn’t be past mid-morning. Every inch of my body ached, but it was a relief compared to the sharp agony of earlier. At least an entire night had passed, and somehow, I was still alive. I tried to brush the blanket back and sit up to survey the damage to my body, but a voice interrupted me.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a woman said in a smooth tone. “Though,” she added with a chuckle, “I don’t know the first thing that goes through you mortals’ heads.”
Turning, I found a tall, slender fae woman seated in the chair at my bedside. Lovely golden hair framed her pale, angular face, while her full lips twisted in a bemused smile. It didn’t seem entirely kind, but there wasn’t any open hostility about her either. Her eyes were an unusual shade of turquoise, bright and cunning as her gaze slid over me.
On her shoulder sat a pixie, lounging as if she regularly reclined on others. Her curls hung loose, framing a face with a dark complexion and rich brown eyes. They glittered with mischief, reminding me of all the stories I’d been told about pixies and their fun, carefree ways. She made me feel a little more at ease, while her golden-haired friend made me nervous.
“What—what happened?” I whispered, my words sounding raspy as I pushed them out of my raw throat. My mouth was dry,and the ache as I spoke reminded me of my screams in the arena. “Who are you?”
The golden-haired fae crossed her legs primly, drawing my attention to the fact that she was clothed in some form of tight trousers and a tunic rather than a dress. I frowned at the strange sight. “You can call me Isolde, and this is Aspen,” she said, gesturing toward the pixie on her shoulder. “I’m a healer, so I was sent to tend to you. The magic was especially taxing on your frail human body.”
I didn’t protest, for she was right.
“Why am I not dead?” I asked. Had they sent Isolde to heal me only so they could put me through some new trial that would finish me off?
Isolde pursed her lips, looking as if she’d tasted something sour. “You displayed powerful winter magic, hinting at the possibility that you could indeed possess Silverfrost blood...despite your mortality.” Her forehead scrunched.
Aspen hopped off Isolde’s shoulder, walking across her lap and settling on the edge of my bed. “It was quite a sight.” She sat, crossing her legs and resting her chin in one hand. Like Isolde, she wore fitted trousers and a tunic in bright, cheerful colors at odds with the dull winter light filtering through my window. “Slaying that human with a spear of ice? Impressive. We haven’t seen magic like that in...well, decades.”
Bile filled my mouth at the memory. The man’s final look pierced my thoughts, filling my head with the painful image. His confusion. His hurt. His sorrow. He’d been nothing more than a tool in fae hands, and I had ended his life.
Did he hate me in those last moments? Or had he found relief in being freed of the control?
I swallowed back a building sob, knowing these fae wouldn’t sympathize with my guilt.
“The way Garrick Darkgrove came to your rescue was also something I haven’t seen the likes of in years,” Aspen added, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“What?”
“Once you displayed your magic and killed the first human, he became a bit...unhinged.” Isolde shrugged. “Usually the hunter is calm and in control, and it’s so rare for us to see him in his wolf form. But he is loyal to the crown, so I suppose his reaction last night was to be expected. He was the first to intervene, no doubt when he realized the extent of the magic you’d wielded. He transformed and killed the other mortals before they could harm you further.”
Despite Isolde’s earlier warning, I sat up, too overcome with this news. Garrickhadintervened for me? But according to the fae, it was only because I was valuable. Mypowerwas valuable. Not because he cared.
