We’re surrounded by soldiers.
But not a single one of them wears the Stone Sword armor. No, they’re in red and black, and I’ve fought them before. Because these are Cull’s guards.
Slade’s father is here.
CHAPTER 51
EMONIE
The walk from the barracksto the bridge didn’t take nearly as long as I’d have liked. But it was enough for me to slip further back in the lines. A little shifting here, a slowed step there, and one by one, I was able to put more space between myself and the front so I could breathe easier.
The other Stone Swords sent me plenty of irritated looks. I was also elbowed once or twice, but no one confronted me or shoved me forward again. I was hoping I could sneak out somehow and head in the other direction, but I realized pretty quickly that just isn’t possible.
The higher ranking Badges keep moving their horses up and down the lines, barking out commands and corrections. I might’ve been able to sneak further back in the rows, but there’s no way for me to slip out completely.
We march through the deadlands, and the further we go, the worse it is. The crippling, scorched earth looks like it’s beensucked dry of life. Then we reach one of the dead cities, which is nothing but rotten wood and ash-riddled rubble.
And it’s supposed to be empty.
It was abandoned long ago, but right now, it holds soldiers.
I can feel the other Stone Swords around me grow tense as we take them in. A few of the Badges move ahead to meet with them just off the path, and unease curls up in my nerves as I get a better look.
Those soldiers waiting in the ruins aren’t Stone Swords.
This army wears armor that’s stained with both old and new blood. The front of their helmets are in the shape of a blade, leaving their noses and mouths exposed. And hanging from black chains on their belts are…
I can’t help it—my hand flies to my mouth, eyes widening in shock when I realize what it is. Whattheyare. My steps stagger as I take in the fillets of flesh that hang from their chains. Bits of hide dried out like strips of jerky that they’re wearing as trophies. If it weren’t for the soldiers surrounding me, I’d run the other way.
Because I know exactly who these fae are.
Gore.
They’re a faction of fanatics. The lowest of the low. Last I heard, they were banished to an island, kept away from the mainlands and left to kill each other off.
Either that was a lie or they’ve severely multiplied, because there arehundredsof them gathered in this dead city, and they look terrifying.
Dread fills my stomach until I’m drunk with it. I’m so frightened I can barely march straight. These aren’t fae, they’re monsters.
They don’t belong here. They were banished for a reason. That reason being they devour the flesh of their fellow fae.
It goes against every moral, every ethic, against nature itself. But they do it for power.
Conquer and consume.That was their mantra. They believed that consuming the flesh of other fae made them stronger. More powerful.
I think it just made them depraved.
I stand in the corner of belief that Annwyn has cursed them for their corruption.
That’s why they have hair like limp strings. That’s why their lips have pulled back from their mouths, and their teeth are sharpened into points. That’s why they’ve gone mostly blind, save for the shadows they track, aided by the sense of smell that’s far and above what anyone else is capable of scenting. And that’s why every single one of them has a tinge of red to their skin tones and they reek of blood.
It reveals the truth of the forbidden flesh they’ve consumed.
Some of the Gore soldiers stand ready, mouths in permanent snarls, sharp teeth stained pink. I feel their eyes on our procession, and my skin crawls. They’re an abomination.
I see the Badges talking to a small group of Gore, probably higher ranking based on how heavy their chains are with their multiple slabs of flesh hanging down.
“King Carrick wants you to bring up the rear, after we’ve cleared the bridge.”
