She kept her hands from tightening into fists. They hadn’t restrained her. That was a stroke of luck. She could do great damage very quickly when in a tight spot.
Zorn’s voice rolled through her head.If you can save yourself, don’t wait. Being on the run gives you better odds than being locked in a box.
Her gaze flicked down to the knife sticking out of her captor’s sheath, ripe for the plucking. Her own knife had been taken again when she was put back into the dungeon. She could snatch this one before they locked her in a room and use it before they knew it was gone. The king’s magic wouldn’t save him as he died from a quick-acting fatal wound. If itwasthe king—hopefully, it was someone with less status and power. Less danger.
Adrenaline seeped into her blood, carefully contained. She ensured her movements stayed consistent and hoped to fucking hell the magic meant to contain her thoughts had started working.
She felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck, a heightened awareness pulling at her. Pressure throbbed around her, someone’s focus tracking her. Someone’s gaze bearing down. She’d gotten very familiar with this sensation in the magical world, needing to know when someone planned to take out or “give a lesson to” the Chester who didn’t belong.
A male of medium height and build walked down the side of the hall toward them. He held ancient-looking scrolls with tattered edges, rolled up and shielded protectively within his arms. His jacket was a fine thing, with gold embroidery on deep green fabric layered in places with red edging. Loose pants in fine silk flowed down his legs, ending in pointed slippers ofvelvet. She couldn’t tell if any of these materials were the same as in the human realm, but they were something similar.
A gold chain hung around his neck, an oval locket resting on his breast. Eight gold earrings pierced each lobe of very large, pointed ears that stuck far out from his head. Eyes so pale they almost looked white surveyed her. He continued to slow in his walk until he stopped altogether, noticing her shoes and then her clothes, her hair and then her face, studying her like she was a fascinating book. Or scroll, in his case.
The fae escorting her passed him without so much as a glance. Nor did they put their heads down in respect. He could’ve been a ghost despite his obvious wealth. His gaze stuck to her, though. Her eyes. He’d finished looking her over and was imploring her to glance in his direction.
She had no idea if he was a mindgazer, or if the magic supposedly employed to protect her thoughts was working. Just in case, she started mentally singing her favorite song, imagining the musical instruments and focusing on the lyrics. She finally met his eyes, ready to drop her gaze if he took offense. Almost immediately, she felt a strange tickle in her mind, like a feather stroking the surface. Yeah, definitely a mindgazer.
She thought of her favorite bird as he watched her, his gaze delving into hers. His pale peepers, a very pretty color when up close, with dark blue speckles and a hazel ring around the pupils, glimmered with knowledge. With a question.
She had no answers. Not for him, or any of them. But goodness, weren’t the feathers of a flamingo so lovely and pink? They got that coloring from their food. And the ostriches, with their plume of— Actually, llamas were cool, weren’t they? Some could be very surly, though?—
Her mental babble was cut short when the fae who held her arm jerked in surprise. She whipped her head around to see Tarian stopped at the mouth of the hallway, his body pointed tothe right but his head turned her way. It looked as though he’d been passing by when he glanced this way, then stopped.
The image of him took her breath away.
His clothing was made of material as fine as the male with the scrolls, but the cut was so much more interesting. A high collar on his tunic jutted close to his jaw and cinched in at the base of his neck. Silver designs entwined within, sparkling and shining in the hallway lighting. Another collar nearer his shoulder looked like hardened leather, or rubber, even, sitting atop a flat piece that curved slightly at the edge of his shoulders. Another piece of the same material covered his upper arm, all of this swirled in golden braids, lines, and accents. It made his already broad shoulders seem that much bigger and looked like armor. Sleek, gorgeous armor.
The material hugged him down his front and around his waist, the design just as extraordinary and interesting. His sleeves were loose fabric that flowed under bracers fashioned after the shoulder plates. The same material covered his shins, the rest of his leg in something like leggings. The ensemble called for the velvet shoes Mr. Scrolls wore, but instead, Tarian sported leather boots polished to a high gloss.
His loose curls hung around his face, and it was the only part of him that wasn’t pristinely tailored. On anyone else, it wouldn’t have fit. It would’ve distracted from the overalllook, but for him, it seemed purposeful, like a rebellion against authority. It made him that much hotter. Her heart sped up.
“Keep going,” the fae in front murmured furiously, a nervous waver in his voice.
The fae who held her stutter-stepped, jerking her to a stop one moment and lurching forward the next. His hand tightened in an unconscious reaction. Nerves, probably. Whoever had sent them to fetch her didn’t stop them from worrying what would happen when Tarian found out.
A strange excitement simmered in her middle, as though she were headed toward battle.
Tarian turned toward them slowly, purposefully, his eyes feral. Darkness saturated the space around him, boosting his dangerous energy. It was impossible to know which side he inhabited, good or evil. Angel or devil. He probably didn’t even know himself. Right now, it was both. Her savior, and her captors’ damnation.
His gaze fell over her, making her body tingle all over. He started forward. Toward her.
The fae that held her slowed dramatically, as though fighting to keep walking through a windstorm. The other wasn’t much better, both of his fists clenched at his sides as he trudged farther.
“What are you doing with that slave?” Tarian asked as he neared, his voice like dark satin, his approach terrifyingly beautiful.
The two fae stopped. The leader lifted his chin in defiance, but he couldn’t hide his full-body tremors.
“The king has requested the human female for his amusement,” the leader said, and cold washed down Daisy’s spine.
“Don’t be absurd.” Tarian now only had eyes for the leader. His magic billowed around him, stuffing the hall with bone-crushing pressure. “He detests taking another’s seconds. She has been spoiled. By me. He’ll have to be amused by his queen for the evening. Or perhaps one of his many mistresses. The human is mine.”
“But sire?—”
Suddenly, Tarian was right in front of the leader, vicious brawn and robust strength. His height topped the other male by a foot, and he made it a point to lean down into the servant as he spoke.
“Did you not see the warning I left in the prison? The last of the king’s insufferable minions to touch what is mine met his demise. I made him suffer greatly. I can bless you with the same treatment, like I will bless your friend.”
The fae holding Daisy started to scream, ripping his hand away from her and throwing himself back. He stumbled as blackness sliced across his body. Blood soaked into his clothes in the groin and stomach. It gurgled up through his throat until he was choking on it, thrashing and then crashing into the wall. The light in the hall flickered, dimming and flaring, casting manic shadows across Tarian’s unflinching face. He hadn’t looked away from the leader, his gaze promising vengeance while otherwise handsomely unimpressed about the carnage he was creating.
