Another man strides out of the woods then, concern coloring his face when he looks at me. He is taller than the first and has a jagged scar on his cheek. The two are arguing, but I don’t know why or care. My eyelids are like two lead weights and holding them open takes an effort I no longer have. Darkness gathers along the edge of my vision, putting out what little light remains as the poison drags me under.
When my eyes crack open, I realize it wasn’t a horrible dream. My head pounds as I sit up and notice the barred gate. Barred gate? I rub my eyes, but it doesn’t disappear.
Why am I in a cell?
A small barred windowshows daylight,so I haven’t been unconscious for too long, or it could mean I’ve been out for an entire day. With the throbbing in my head, I fear the latter.
But why I’m in the cell is the more pressing issue. Whoever put me here bandaged my wound and laid me on a cot with a blanket. My shoulder is sore but not as painful as it should be. I lift my arm to assess the damage and freeze when itbarely protests.
Tightnessforms in my gut as I unravel the bandages. And when the wrappings are off, I shriek. Only a small, raised red line and light bruising remain where the arrow pierced my shoulder.
“Ah, good, you’re finally awake,” a tall, burly man with a scarred cheek says from outside the bars. “King Grager has been waiting for you for most of the morning. He has questions regarding your crossing. Come now, up with you.”
He gestures for me to stand.
While I’m relieved it hasn’t been a full day, I’m confused by everything else.
My brows squeeze together as I stare at the man and frown. “The king? Mywhat?”
He crosses his arms and lightly taps a foot on the gray stone floor, the motion clinking the metal key ring in his hand. “Come now. His Majesty is waiting. I’m sure he’ll answer your questions unless you keep delaying. Then I’m not sure if he will be as generous.”He slides a key into the lock and jerks the door to the cell open. The hinges groan from the weight of the metal.
Unwilling to stay in the cell any longer, I muster my courage and head to the gate.
We make our way down the dark corridor in silence, and I try to keep track of our turns, hoping to find an escape, but it’s like they made them confusing for that exact reason.
My shoulders slump, and the movement catches the jailer’s attention.
“Trying to think of an exit, are we? Don’t worry yourself. Tell the king what he wants to know, and I’m sure he will arrange other accommodations for your stay.”
“My stay?” The words fumble across my lips asmy thoughts race. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand how I ended up here. I was hiking in the woods when someone shot me, and then I woke up in a cell.”
A pained expression crosses his face. “Yes, I suppose we started on the wrong foot. Let me try this again. I’m Reagan, and Devlin felt awful about the whole arrow thing. Our deepest apologies, miss. I healed your wound myself. His Majesty was displeased to hear of the incident.”
“My shoulder is much better, buthow? There should be pain, a wound… something besides a faint red line.”
He lifts a single eyebrow and cocks his head. “Do you truly not know where you are?”
“No. I told you I’m at a loss. I was hiking, and… well, my day went toshit.”
Reagan shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “No, you are not from here. That much is clear. I think the king should explain the rest. Come now. We are almost there.”
With no other options, I follow him up the next staircase and into a brightly lit corridor. Since we have left what I assume was the dungeon, the stone walls are no longer cold and empty. Amethyst-purple standard flags with a golden bow-and-arrow sigil hang from every open space. Large crystal chandeliers hang from ceilings that must be thirty feet high.
With the light from the windows, I have the chance to study my jailer. At least six feet tall, he is muscular and has shoulder-length blond hair and fair skin with a jagged scar that travels the length of his right cheek.His clothes, an amethyst-purple tunic with gold embroidery, black trousers, and black boots, are well made.
While looking at him, I notice the one thing that should have immediately set off all my alarms. It’s why he was shocked I didn’t know where I was. Why would I think to be somewhere other than Trimton?
But there, peeking out from beneath his hair, are finely pointed ears. The tips are delicate but so apparent, I don’t know how I missed them.
It’s impossible.
The fae have been gone a thousand years.
Our species once lived together peacefully until war broke out between our kinds, and they opened portals to another world and disappeared. That is what I’ve been told all twenty-four years of my life.
The war started when the pretentious, magic-wielding fae chose to no longer coexist with mundane humans, and humans wanted nothing more to do with the snobby fae.
Opposing sides formed,and fighting began.