I don’t even know why I’m fighting, to be honest. It’s not like this is reality. Weflewhere. As in, the guy stretched two huge, massive wings and flew us here like he’s some kind of man-bird. I’d say Angel if he weren’t a murderer.
Angels aren’t evil, and I watched this man slaughter a handful of men less than ten minutes ago.
“You aren’t going anywhere, pet. The king will be the one who decides what to do with you.” His accent is thick, Irish, which only adds to the illusion that I’m probably still passed out in my hotel bed.
The only reason I have to doubt that particular explanation, though, is the pain radiating through my arm from where his large hand wraps around it. But I’m trying my damnedest to not pay any attention to that development.
His boots pad softly on the floor as he carries me down a corridor then shoves open two gigantic golden doors and tosses me inside. My knees hit the floor with a slam, causing pain to shoot up into my thighs. I try to stand but stumble down again, my body still sore from my traipse in the woods and the sickness that I honestly believed would be what killed me.
Now, I’m not so sure—present company considered.
“What is this?”
I glance up as a new man speaks. My red hair blocks part of my view as I appraise the new member of what is quickly turning into the strangest nightmare I’ve ever had. His long, golden hair falls down his back, and a golden crown encircles his head. Emeralds are embedded in the ridged gold that matches the color of his eyes.
I wish I could laugh, but the terrifying way he’s watching me has me swallowing hard and looking back down.
“I found it lurking in the woods.”
It?
“Where?”
“Near Mossy River. It was hiding just out of view, tucked back into some trees with a serpent wrapped around its wrist.”
A woman, who I didn’t notice until now, clears her throat and steps up to the king’s side. Her hair is dark—nearly black—her nose crooked, as though it’s been broken more than a few times. She whispers something into his ear, and his gaze flies back to my face.
“Come here,” he orders me, but I don’t move.
“The king gave you an order, thing,” the man kicks my side, and I wince, biting down on a sob.
“You will not touch her, again,” the king orders, his voice stern.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The king’s golden eyes shift back to mine. “Come here, woman. You will suffer no more at his hand.”
Nothing about yours, though.Still, not seeing much of a choice given—and I really, really do not want to get kicked again—I stagger to my feet and cross the distance to him. To my dismay, he stands, coming down the steps to greet me at the bottom. Slender fingers grip my chin, and he tilts my face up. His eyes are kinder now, and he holds my face gently.
I don’t look away. If I’m going to meet death, it will be head-on. After all, I’m already expecting it to come for me, aren’t I?
“You are exquisite,” he whispers, voice calm. Releasing my chin, he brushes strands of my thick hair from my face.
“Who are you?” I manage, my voice barely audible.
He smiles softly. “I am Taranus. King of Faerie. And I have been waiting for you.”