Chapter 1
I gasp for air as I shoot up in bed, my eyes wide, my hand reaching for my heart and the pain within. There is sweat on my forehead and the back of my neck, and my heart is pounding. I squint and look around me, remembering where I am. I lean my head against the thin walls of the shed and take deep steadying breaths of the fall air seeping through the cracks. I peer out from one of the cracks and see a pine tree skyline with the backdrop of the Fjellne mountains blanketed with the light of thousands of silvery stars. The horizon is starting to be touched with pink. I don’t have enough time to go back to sleep before dawn, and even if I did, I don’t think I could.
I swing my legs off from the thin makeshift bed nailed into the wall and grab my worn leather boots and lace them up, fastening my cloak around my shoulders as well. I stand up and shiver as the warmth from my small quilt is swallowed by the frigid morning air.
Stretching out my limbs, I shiver. Winter is coming soon, and with that… Memories plague me throughout the year, but during winter…
I shake my head as though to dispel the thought. It doesn’t work. I bend down and grab my hatchet, strapping it to my hip. I groan inwardly as I think of the giant pile of wood waiting outside.
A lone note rings through the night, solemn and foreboding. The hair on the back of my neck rises. Something is coming.
Something bad.
The floorboards creak as I walk over to the door and open it. The hinges stick, the sound scaring me, but I peer out none the less.
The noise repeats itself, echoing through the empty forest.
I can see the glint of moonlight reflecting from Maldan steel through the trees, the coming dawn silhouetting the horseback procession.
That wretched noise calls out again, causing my breath to quicken and my heart to pound. The memories threaten to overtake me. I clench and unclench my fists and squeeze my eyes shut, taking shallow breathes.
When I get control of myself, I open my eyes. The procession appears from behind the trees, and one of the riders breaks away from the group. He is going to announce the presence of the Vörður to the masters of the manor, the Kerstons.
The door to the sprawling house opens before the rider arrives, and a smiling, trembling, terrified Mr. Kerston appears, taking up almost the entire doorway. Despite my fear, I smile when I see his obvious terror.
Now he knows how it feels.
The rider hops off his horse in one graceful movement and starts talking with Kerston in sharp, rigid movements until Kerston reluctantly steps aside and lets the soldier in to his home.
From the tight line of Kerston’s lips, I can tell that the slave taxes have risen this month, probably high enough that I, Kerston’s favorite slave could be in danger of being taken.
The thought hits me like a blow to my stomach. No. No, I won’t be taken. It couldn’t have all been in vain.
Making sure that the procession is solely focused on the manor, I step out of the shelter of the small shed that is my bedroom. Crouching low to the ground with my eyes glued to the soldiers nearest me, I race across the small field between the woods and the shed.
The closer to the woods I get, the more my instincts scream at me to run in the other direction, away from the unnatural forest that houses the creatures that scream and howl at night.
I only take my eyes off the procession when I enter the safety of the trees. Well, safety from them.
I weave my way between the towering evergreens. The forest is much darker with the thick canopy of branches overhead, but the light of the early morning makes the shadows twist and dance, caught in a silent, unearthly waltz.
Something howls nearby, making me jump. An answering howl echoes from the opposite direction, and yapping takes up from somewhere to my right. I hurry my pace, leaping as silently as I can over fallen branches and gnarly roots. The pine trees slowly give way to oak and maple, and moonlight illuminates my path. If it weren’t for the fear clogging my senses and the creatures surely watching me, I would think the forest is beautiful.
But, alas, I’m terrified. Rightly so, but the forest just seems eerie.
I continue, branches cutting through my trousers and tunic and into my skin. I hop over roots and push branches out of my face, going as quickly and quietly as I can. A flash of panic spears through me when I see light reflecting through the trees off what looks like thousands of silver surfaces, but then I hear the rush of the river. A sigh escapes my lips before I can stop it, but I keep going towards the river.
Snap!
I freeze, bending my knees and turning slowly to face the direction of the noise. There is nothing there.
Snap!
This time, the sound is from my left. I swing my head in that direction. There is a flash of movement in the corner of my eyes, and I turn, my hand going to the hatchet at my side. A fantom breeze lifts the stray hairs that have fallen out of my braid, and I thumb open the cover, easily catching the ax. A branch quivers to my right, as though something ran silently past. I palm the worn steel handle, my callouses lining up perfectly with every dent and crease in the metal. I bring it up by my head and ready myself to strike.
The trees seem to shy back from what emerges from them. I almost drop my hatchet when I see what had been stalking me.
I’ve never seen anything like it. The feline body is a scarred mess, and I can see its ribs through its thin pelt. Its paws have claws as long as my forefinger, and its pupils are almost glowing red. It stalks towards me on long, skinny legs and I reposition my hands on my blade. Its head is as tall as my upper abdomen, almost the size of the fabled Solian wolves, just lacking some of the bulk
I look into its eyes only to find it staring at me. It pulls back it’s gums and snarls, revealing blackened gums stained with a rusty brown.
Blood.
It starts to circle me, slowly herding me towards a giant oak tree. I suck in a breath as it snaps its jaws and fangs drop from the roof of its mouth, not quite as long as its claws, but still more than long enough to rip out my throat.
When I feel the bark of the oak tree dig into my back, I lunge at the creature, swinging with all my strength.
It dodges out of the way, and I am almost knocked over by the surprise of my ax not connecting with flesh. I spin on my heels and face the creature. No animal should be able to move that fast. Not against a trained—
I cry out as claws tear through flesh and muscle in my shoulder, and the pain is blinding. Although not the worst I’ve experienced.
I wrench myself out of its grasp and swing the hatchet, connecting with its leg. It shrieks as blood pours from the wound, and it swipes out with its other paw, and pain lances down my temple and cheek. I feel warm blood in my mouth, but I just spit it out and keep swinging.
I duck as it lunches and I thrust my hatchet up into its stomach, slicing it from nose to navel. It shrieks, an unearthly, unholy sound.
I spin to face it from where it landed, but it’s just lying there on its side, whimpering. Its red eyes look at me, and an unexpected sadness creeps up the back of my throat. It’s going to die, and I will have killed it.
It whimpers again, the sound wrenching my heart.
Tears stream down my face. It’s paws twitch where they lie in the blood-soaked moss and its eyes cloud with pain. I walk over to it, my steps heavy, and offer it the only peace I can. I raise the hatchet above my head and swing, severing its head from its body.
The forest it silent.
A low chuckle echoes through the woods.
I whirl around, hatchet in hand, and squint into the trees. Fire screams down my shoulder and the blood starts flowing faster.
“Impressive,” a gravelly voice drawls, and I spin around again. “Those are very hard to kill.”
I bare my teeth into the darkness, all thoughts of sadness vanishing. Planting my feet and bending my knees, I prepare for a fight. I scan the darkness, but I still see nothing. No movement, no noise, nothing. Swinging my head from side to side, I back up against the tree, my shoulder shrieking as the rough bark cuts into the wound.
“Look up.”
My head snaps up and I scream when I see a crouching, dark-clad figure on the branch above me. He is carving something into the trunk of the tree with a beautiful bone dagger. There is a ruby in the hilt of it, glowing bloodred in the early morning light.
I back up from the trunk of the tree, still holding the hatchet. As he turns to face me, I see a small symbol on his tunic.
Two interlocking circles, one gold, one silver, with a sword through the middle. The symbol of the crown, the symbol of the sotia.
He sheaths his dagger and leans backwards, falling off the branch and landing on his feet in front of me. He stalks towards me, his cloak swishing at his feet.
“You ran.” He says. The only thing that I can see from under his hood is his sharp nose and sensual lips, which part to reveal partially elongated canines.
“What?” I ask. That question was a little out of the blue…
“Well, the tax collectors came, and you left.” His voice is thick with a foreign accent, although I can’t place where it’s from. “That is treason, you know.”
I kept my mouth shut, barely daring to breath as I inched my way toward the river. Now didn’t seem like a good time for a sarcastic comment, and that was all I could come up with right now.
He looks up at the pink streaking across the sky, revealing his eyes. They are a beautiful gold, like the color of my mother’s hair.
He brings a hand up and pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling deeply and extending his hand out towards me.
“Come.”
I startle at the word. It’s proprietary sound grating over my ears and making my muscles freeze as memories threaten to overtake me. Memories of a harsh, mean face with unforgiving hands flash before my eyes. I rub over the scars on my wrists and shiver.
“No.” I say, my voice surprisingly steady and I back up another step.
I don’t wait for him to reply. I turn on my heels and sprint towards the edge of the river, my boots making almost no noise as I nimbly avoid tripping on the roots. The water is so close…
I hear the sotia’s laugh from behind me.
I push my legs harder and burst through the trees and into open air. I look down and see the river.
Fifteen feet below me.
My momentum takes me tumbling off the ledge towards water.
I take a breath to scream, but all the air is pulled from my lungs and I stop. I stop falling and I stop breathing. There is a feeling of compression all around me, like I am being held too tight and not getting enough air. A metallic taste fills my mouth as the water below me rushes past in an unforgiving torrent. I feel a pressure on my hands as the hatchet is wrenched free of my grasp and flung into the water. I cry out and try to reach for it, but my hands are pinned at my sides and I don’t have enough air to scream.
Suddenly, I am wrenched up and back, towards the shore. I kick out my legs as I am turned by the invisible hands to face the sotia.
There is a wicked grin on his face, his hood thrown back exposing his night black hair tipped with silver and his strong cheekbones, but then his golden eyes flash silver and his nostrils flare. He breathes deeply and his eyes close. When they open, a flicker of confusion and recognition flashes across his face.
It’s gone so quickly that I’m not sure if I imagined it, and my eyes become heavy and my heartrate slows. I kick one last time, a feeble attempt to dislodge the sotia’s majic, before unconsciousness claims me.
My eyes flash open only to be greeted by darkness. My knees are pushed up to my chest and my hands are bound behind my back. My throat is completely dry, and my shoulder and cheek throbs. I shift my weight onto my left side but my head bangs into a rough wooden plank, then I shift to my right side, a wall meeting me there as well. I can’t see how far in front of me this small space extends, but I feel panic start to set in. I take a deep breath to try to calm myself—only to find that I can’t. There is a rough gag tied tightly around my mouth and nose, and when I scream, no sound escapes the thick fabric of the bond.
I hear the sound of a key in a lock and an extremely bright beam of light fills the small space. I squint up at a small gangly man standing in the doorway holding a bowl of broth and a piece of hardbread. He bends down, his face leaning in closer to mine. To my dismay, a small whimper escapes my lips at the sight of his upturned nose, fangs, and pointed ears. The Fae aren’t rare, but I haven’t seen one since--
He inhales deeply and cringes. I would be offended if the pain in my shoulder wasn’t taking all my attention.
The man backed up and yanked down my gag, splitting my lip in the process.
“Eat,” He rasps while he sets down the broth and hardbread. “Tomorrow, you go to auction blocks.” There isn’t an ounce of pity in his broken speech. In fact, he looks eager.
He bends over me again and his hands slip behind my back. I stiffen and get ready to bite him, but he just unclasps my chains. I release a sigh as he backs up. He turns to leave, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
“Wait.” I rasp, my throat burns. I grab the cup of water and down it in three gulps, relishing the feel of the cool water coating my throat. “Wait,” I repeat.
He stops and waits for me to continue. “Yes?”
“Wh—” I clear my throat. “Where am I, where are we going?”
“In a wagon on your way to Ensalya,” he says simply. Panic starts to cloud my vision, but I blink it back, taking deep, steadying breathes. Ensalya is home to the largest slave trade auctions on the entire continent.
Now that he says it, I can feel the floor rocking under me, and I can see swaying lanterns hanging from the ceiling in the room behind him. He takes another step out of the small door.
“Wait,” I say. “What’s going to happened?” I think I already know what the answer will be, but I ask it anyway.
He turns, and his upturned eyes fill with an emotion that I can’t quite place, and he focuses on me.
“That question will cost you.”
Well, maybe the answer isn’t as simple as I thought. “How much.” The excitement in his eyes kind of scares me. I won’t be paying anything extremely steep or undefined (like, “you owe me a favor”, or “I get your firstborn child”. I heard about a queen from the east who made that deal. It didn’t end well for her. Or the child.), and I have no money, but I would like to hear what he deems that information worth.
He looks thoughtful for a moment, but I can see that he already has a price in mind.
“Just something small,” he says. “Something simple. Something you won’t miss or even notice is gone.”
“I’m not giving you my toe.” I tell him. He just shakes his head and reaches forward.
“Ow!” I exclaim, even though I barely felt it.
“A hair,” he explains as he pulls his hand back and holds one up in front of me. “For your question.”
What? It can’t be that easy. “What on earth do you want with my hair,” I ask.
“Is that your question?” he looks at me with hopeful eyes.
Hell no. “No, no it’s not. My question…? Uh, what’s going to happen to me.” I tilt my head to the side and look at him. I don’t think that this deal will really be able to come back around and bite me in the ass.
I meet his gaze only to find that his eyes have an opaque sheen over them, and his pupils have turned a deep orange. He takes a deep breath, and in a silky-smooth voice, he says;
Sinister prophecy goes here!
Under the ike, where blood was drawn
The end of the night(knight), beginning of dawn.
Follow the ice, the river of tears,
A circlet of gold will follow you here.
The mother’s womb was traded at birth,
Only they shall end the curse.
…
…
…
…
…
…
I’m quiet for a while. I don’t exactly know how to respond to that. I don’t even think I remember all of it.
I sit up straighter. “Um,” I say. “What?”
He looks at me with an evil, yet comical, smile on his face that reveals all his small, razor-sharp teeth.
“Answers cost,” he reminds me. Crap.
“Well, what do you want?” I counter.
His grin widens. He takes a deep breath to start speaking, but then he turns sharply to the left. His mouth opens and closes, opens and closes. He looks back at me, and hobbles quickly out of view.
I then hear it. The thumping sound of someone running their hands against the wooden planks on the wall.
Thump, thump, thump.
I don’t hear any accompanying footsteps, but the Fae are known for their stealth.
My heartrate speeds up and I push into the corner of the cell and grab the empty water cup. I know it won’t do anything against whatever is approaching my cell, but it’s all I have.
The thumping abruptly stops as a broad-shouldered shape appears in the doorway, casting me and, well, my cup, into shadow. He lowers into a crouch, and I can see it’s the sotia that followed me into the woods.
Without his hood, I can see double piercings in his left ear.
And his ear… it comes to a point at the top, the mark of the Fae.
He’s nearly indestructible and he’s immortal. Great…
He reaches forward almost as though he is going to brush the hair out of my face, but I snap my teeth, my dull, ordinary teeth, at his hand. He quickly retracts it and chuckles, the sound sending shivers down my spine. And not in a good way.
“Aren’t you something?” he murmurs, almost to himself. He rakes his eyes down my body and smiles. Well, not so much a smile as just baring his teeth at me.
I smile back.
He sniffs the air, and asks me, “Do I know you?”
“Oh, ya. Um, we met, like, an hour ago,” At least, I think it was an hour ago… “You chased me through the forest after watching me fight a—I don’t know what that was—and not helping me.” Me, salty? Never. I wave my hand, gesturing to my face. “Am I really that forgettable?”
He looks at me again. In the candlelight, his eyes look silver.
“No,” he says quietly. “Not at all.”
I don’t say anything. He takes a breath like he is going to say more, but then he turns on his heels and disappears from my view.
ns 15.158.61.12da2
