He crouches down. His tattered wings twitch slightly behind him. There’s still remnants of purple paint underneath his nails.
“You’ve broken all the rules, Katria.” The words are steeped in frustration.
“It’s you,” I breathe. “Lord Fenwood.”
“I suppose now that you’ve seen the real me, you should know my real name, too. Davien.” He motions behind him. “The gentleman with the antlers is Hol. My other horned friend is Giles.”
“You’re not even going to attempt a horny joke? Disappointing,” Giles mumbles while grinning like a cat.
Lord Fenwood—Davien ignores him. “The lady is Shaye. And of course you know Oren.”
I’ve scooted myself all the way back against a tree in an effort to get as much distance as possible between me and these creatures. As my back presses against the bark I begin to get a better sense of my surroundings, even though it’s nearly impossible to tear my eyes off the fae. I expect them to launch at my throat at any second even though they haven’t killed me yet.
We’re not in the deep pine forest anymore. Ancient oak trees stretch up with a spiderweb of branches to catch the sunlight and cool afternoon breezes. Moss dangles off their limbs, swaying. Small motes of light, a rainbow of fireflies bright enough to be seen in the daytime, drift around us. The moss has an iridescent sheen to it, not unlike the crimson of Davien’s wings.
Every color is brighter than I’ve ever seen it. Every scent is sharper. The air itself feels alive, powerful and fearsome, in an entirely different way than the dark forest. I do not feel threatened here. Yet, at the same time, this feels like a place of great danger.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“We’re in the Bleeding Woods, to the northeast of what you know as the Slate Mountains.”
“Northeast…” I struggle to process information. “There is nothing northeast of the Slate Mountains. They’re utterly impassable. The world ends.” Every fool who has ever tried to go across them has never returned.
“Impassable for your kind.” Hol glances in my direction from the corners of his purple eyes before going back to scanning the woods around us. Every muscle in his body is tensed. Like he’s ready for a fight…or ready to run. “At least, without the help of people like us.”
“The Slate Mountains are a line between worlds,” Davien says with forced calmness. There’s agitation burning in the backs of his eyes. He’s frustrated with me. Fine. Let him be. He was the one who kept all of this a secret and who’s now dragged me into it. “On the other side of them is the former kingdom of Aviness—where we are now.”
“Most people call it the fae wilds these days,” Giles says, scanning the forest while he speaks, the wind tousling his blond hair around his horns.
“Why have you not killed me? Why have you taken me here? What do you want from me?” My questions become hasty and frantic.
“I want the magic you stole.” Davien’s voice becomes more of a growl. “The magic that was my birthright.”
“I didn’t take any magic.” I shake my head.
He grabs my shoulders with his broad hands and shakes me. “You came into the glen, you disrupted the ritual, you stepped into the flame.”
I suppose I did do all of those things. “I never intended— Fine, if you want whatever this magic is, then take it back. I truly don’t know what you’re talking about and I wouldn’t want it even if I did.”
“If only it were so simple.” A shadow crosses over his face. “I spent my entire life, nearly twenty-four years, looking for the pieces I needed to complete that ritual. I waited five years just for the stars to be aligned. And you think you can give it to me just because you say so?”
“Enough.” Oren presses fingertips lightly on Davien’s forearm, interrupting the man’s rant. “You’re not accomplishing anything with this.”
“Maybe he will,” Shaye says with a devious grin. “We’ve never had a human who stole fae magic before. Maybe if he shakes her hard enough it’ll burst out of her. Or her head will pop right off.”
My eyes go wide.
“None of us are touching her.” He must realize he’s contradicting himself, because Davien releases me with a frustrated sigh.
“I think you just touched—”
“Silence, Giles.” Davien pinches the bridge of his nose. The way he looks at me now reminds me of every measure of disdain Joyce and Helen ever showed me, and then some.
“I didn’t mean to—” I begin to say. My instinct to placate at that mere look is brought forth.
He cuts me off. “That much is clear. And yet you’ve risked ruining everything.” Davien begins to walk off through the woods. “We’re taking her to Vena.”
“Up with you,” Oren says gently, helping me to my feet.
