AllFreeNovel
Share Us
One knife lodged in the tree with a loudthunk—pinning the fabric of his shirt just above his shoulder. The other landed silently in the dirt, directly between his legs. An inch higher, and she’d have made him a eunuch.
Veyka stalked toward him, her eyes as sharp and dangerous as her blades. “We have no reason to trust you.”
Percival flinched, glancing down at the knife between his legs. He twitched, but didn’t try to dislodge it. He dragged in a breath, managed to meet her gaze. “But you don’t know where you are going. That much is apparent from your path. Less than expeditious.”
Scared, but clever.
“And you know where Avalon is?”
He swallowed, the mahogany skin of his delicate, vulnerable human throat bobbing. “My homeland is near the sacred isle.”
“Humans are liars. Traitorous filth, who will kill a fae as soon as they have the power.” She spat on the ground.
“Yet you ran to the village. You tried to save them.”
Clever or stupid.
“I have my reasons,” Veyka said, schooling her face to placid evenness. Devoid of emotion. Every inch the elemental queen she wasn’t born to be, but had become nonetheless. “And they are none of your concern. Your only concern, Percival, will be doing exactly as we tell you. One step out of line, and I will kill you. Not him,” she jerked her chin in my direction. “Me. I have had a lifetime to picture how I will torture those who betrayed me. I will enjoy practicing on you.”
His hands were shaking, but he nodded.
Ancestors help us.
As quickly as she’d turned to address the human, she left, tossing orders over her shoulder to Osheen. “Leave him tied, set a guard. He’s human. I won’t be murdered in my sleep by him, nightwalker or otherwise.”
42
VEYKA
I would have to kill him anyway.
I knew Arran had hesitated on my behalf. He hadn’t earned the name Brutal Prince by showing mercy to his enemies.
And I was certain that was exactly what Percival St. Pierre was. In addition to being human, which meant he was untrustworthy by default. He’d been following us for weeks, outsmarting even Arran’s beast. No one that clever would tell us the whole truth. Which meant he wanted something from us—more than what he’d said about his sister and some fantastical fae lord.
But if he knew where Avalon was, his lies didn’t matter.
We’d fight our way out of any situation.
I’d kill him before it came to that.
Since he was going to die anyway, I spared us the trouble of trudging back and forth from his tree to our camp and had him moved—to a more convenient tree. If we lulled him into thinking we trusted him, let him hear our conversations, catalog our casual references, then maybe he’d give us some useful information in exchange.
He’d be dead before he could make use of anything he learned.
No one could bring themselves to light a fire, so we ate cold provisions under the moonlight. I was so tired. Every bone in my body, tired and aching. But for once, the bedroll didn’t call to me. Not even the promise of Arran’s warm body awaited, knowing he’d be standing guard half the night.
I shivered on the grass, cross-legged, watching the trees swaying against the moon in the distance.
Besides, the longer I stayed awake, the more likely Cyara was to finally say whatever was on her mind.
She was as skilled at concealing her emotions as any elemental courtier. But those wings gave her away. Perhaps I spent too much time staring at them—checking them for any signs of pain or weakness. Any after effect of what had happened to her in Baylaur.
Even Maisri was quiet, content to sit and hum softly as she brushed Lyrena’s long golden hair.
My golden knight had awoken just after sundown, her eyes still lined with exhaustion but at least conscious.
I felt Arran’s approach. He’d been scouting the surrounding forest, searching for any signs of humans or errant fae lords. For an hour, I’d felt him slowly moving farther away, the pressure of the bond increasing. Then he’d begun circling back, the feeling easing until I heard the rustle of leaves, his shift, and the male walked into the clearing.
