Arax gasps and reaches for his blood smeared helm, wrestling it from his head and tossing it aside where it tumbles with hollow dings across the deck. My eyes flash open and it is the first time I have seen his face. I assumed him to be younger, or at least look younger, like all Fae do. But he reminds me of the men who sit on The Tenders Council, his white hair streaked with silver, rows of deep creases through his brow and circling his eyes, and an ivory beard that sits at his chest. The men on the council are in their sixtieth or seventieth cycle of age, but the Fae age much slower than us. With Arax wearing his age as he does, he could be anywhere in the hundreds, maybe more. If I had known he was older, I might have let him go. The Souls of the Forest have taught me that when it is one’s time, they must be freed.
It’s too late to turn back now.
Arax reaches out, grasping my arm with an intensity that sends a jolt through me, his wide dark eyes lock onto mine, andI notice a red ribbon marred with dark stains twisted around his wrist. I feel the warmth of his tissue and organs mending, his skin weaving itself back together beneath my hands, until, with one final gasp, he is restored completely.
The Blades whisper behind me and I realize more have gathered to witness the gifts of my people, The Tenders of the Grove. But it is not The Tenders’ name I hear spoken amongst them.
“She wields the powers of The Maledannan.”
I rise to my feet with a bitterness welling deep inside me.
“This is the will of The Tenders!” I yell, so all may hear. “And I, a human, saved his life while you did nothing but watch!”
It is not until the words have passed my lips that I realize I am scorning a ship full of Mordorin Fae, and that even though I am forced to wed their prince, there is still time to slit my throat and throw me overboard if I test their patience. Their eyes widen and their jaws fall open, but the sound of something massive emerging from the ocean at my back hints that I am not the focus of their attention.
When I turn, I find the Stormwyrm looming over me, its long neck weaving back and forth as it rises taller from the water. I freeze, every muscle stiffened with fear, but I’m aware enough to notice both the monster’s giant yellow eyes are missing, along with its front tooth. A chorus of scraping steel slices through the air as The Mordorin draw their swords, but none are fast enough to strike before the beast lunges its open mouth at me.
My instincts sharpen, propelling me out of the way as I roll across the slick deck just in time to avoid the wyrm’s massive jaws, which snap shut around the ship with a thunderous crack, splinters of wood showering from the sky amidst the sheets of rain. The Mordorin take to the air, slashing at the monster, but even their fearsome weapons are not enough to penetrate its thick, mottled gray skin. The Stormwyrm thrashes at them,knocking them from the sky as it lashes out at the Blades with its bared teeth.
Suddenly a hand grips my wrist and when I turn, I find Arax pushing the tooth I pulled from his chest toward me.
“Only this can break its skin,” he murmurs, barely conscious.
I grasp the tooth with both shaking hands and when I open my mouth and find no words, I simply nod at him and clamber to my feet. The Mordorin continue their assault, and when their steel fails, they use their armored fists instead.
Arax had found a weakness—the Stormwyrm’s eyes—and that was enough to make the beast retreat for a time. Yet as it returns, it dances around The Mordorin’s attacks with surprising agility, evading them as if guided by instinct. Its blindness proves to be no hindrance. Whether by their raised voices or the vibrations thrumming through the air, the Stormwyrm seems to know exactly where the Blades are.
I stealthily make my way toward the edge of the shattered ship, teetering on a jagged plank. I do not understand why I chose this—why I took the wyrm’s tooth and now stand before the beast. Perhaps the isolation of days at sea has driven me mad, or maybe I’ve finally reached my limit with the Mordorin’s taunts. Perhaps the weight of this cursed bargain has pushed me to throw myself at death’s feet in a desperate attempt to escape. But when I trip over a loose plank, hitting the deck with a hard thud, the wyrm snaps its head toward the sound, leaving me no time to reconsider.
The beast’s head swivels to face me, and I stare with horror into the empty, bloody sockets. Before I can get back on my feet, it opens its gaping maw of a mouth and lunges at me, and my only instinct is to close my eyes and thrust the tooth towards the sky. Suddenly, the rain stops for the first time since we set sail for Baev’kalath.
Since I farewelled my home and my people.
Since I made a bargain to save our way of life and doom myself.
I hear a sickly gurgle above me, and even though the rain has ceased, I feel a wetness dripping across my face. I open my eyes and look up to see the Stormwyrm’s head skewered with its own tooth, so deeply that my hands curled into fists are hard against its skin. Its thick, oily blood streams down my cheeks and over my chin, and the smell is so putrid it makes my head spin. I release the tooth, scurrying across the deck on my knees as the Blades watch in silence. After what feels like forever, the beast falls into the ocean with a hollow splash, causing a surge of water to flood over the deck.
I’m shaking as I lay on the cold, wet wood and my chattering teeth sound like thunder in my ears. I can feel the Mordorin’s gaze pressing down on me, but they have nothing to say. Neither do I. Only when two armored boots stumble to stand beside me and a chain-mailed glove reaches down do I hear a voice.
“Amara. Jewel of the Tenders,” Arax says as he takes my hand. “Let me help you to your feet.” He is frail and hunched, but lifts me from the deck easily, my trembling fingers vanishing within his paw-like grasp. “What do you require?” he asks.
I gulp standing before him, my hands soaked in his blood, my face smeared with the blood of the Stormwyrm, my once flawless dress sodden wet. “I wish to go below deck,” I reply.
He nods. “Very well, Jewel of the Tenders.”
Chapter 2
My cabin mirrors the rest of the ship—dark and damp. A flickering amber glow emanates from a lantern, swaying precariously, the tiny candle within struggling to keep burning.My strife is not so different.
All my life, I have known only The Grove, a sprawling forest in the province of Valorne, a territory once ruled by House Maledannan. And for as long as I can remember, I have never trusted the Fae. In truth, The Maledannan were not as openly brutal as their kin, but they still made it clear—we were to serve them, and their word was law in Valorne.
Mostly, they allowed us to live in peace. Occasionally, they would visit The Grove, sharing their knowledge, teaching we Sisters of the Vine new runes and amplifying the gifts bestowed upon us by their ancestors centuries ago. Ours was a delicate relationship—tenuous at best. The Maledannan were our lords, and we were bound by oath to obey them. But we, The Tenders of The Grove, took the modest magic we were granted and turned it into something extraordinary.
This made The Maledannan nervous.
Suddenly Sisters of the Vine began to disappear, and we would wake in the morning to find parts of the forest culled to nothing but stumps, the ancient Souls that dwelt there lost forever. The visits became raids, children were dragged away in the night to serve in their castles, and soon The Maledannan were just as vile as every other Fae in the Sundered Kingdoms.
So when the human rebellion known as The Legion of Saints rose against them—against all the Fae houses—and The Maledannan demanded we fight by their side… we refused. Their wrath nearly burned The Grove to the ground. So many died—men, women, children—all lost to their rage. Not because of some grand cause, but because the Fae couldn’t bear to share power. The Tenders did not shed any tears when the Maledannan were wiped from the face of the Kingdoms on the last day of the war that would become known as The Betrayer’s Battle.
