With a scream, I yank the blade out with a wet smack, morph it back into a long sword, and swing. The vampire’s head rolls into the soot on the forest floor.
I step back to avoid the massive collapsing body crushing me and lunge forward, bracing to see a mortally wounded Talysse.
Skidding in the soot, I come to a stop, looking around confused, then rubbing my eyes with a bloody fist.
She’s gone.
Vanished.
“Aeidas? Are you hurt? Say something!” her voice, laced with worry, calls to me.
A good fifty feet away from here.
My mind stutters. How can she be there? How is this possible?
I glance at the empty space where she was just a moment ago, the spot now nothing but a patch of disturbed soot. And then I see her—alive, whole—standing in the doorframe, golden light spilling around her like a halo.
I chuckle.
Relief and disbelief crash over me, but the revelation that she’s more than she seems stirs something deeper. This human…she’s full of surprises.
Weaving illusions is a rare gift, and to do it so skillfully, without any guidance, is far more advanced than any human magic. To the hell pits of Atos, it is more advanced than most Fae magic around!
This oddity requires a more thorough investigation. Yet another reason to keep her alive for a while.
I dismiss my blade and stride back to the hut, my wounds throbbing, the poison working its way through my body.
Above us, a purple shimmer veils the sky, and the stars flicker, paling.
The sun is rising.
Talysse
Nighthaven
We’re sitting at the doorstep of the hut when a group of Unseelie riders arrive with the first rays of the sun.
The body of the demon is quickly decomposing in the sun rays in the clearing, attracting swarms of flies.
“Prince Aeidas, Talysse the Nameless.” The lead Fae soldier dismounts and bows low before his lord, acknowledging me with a polite nod.
“Her name is Nightglimmer. Make sure you address her properly next time,” Aeidas says, a dark threat lacing his tone as he holds the improvised bandage I’ve pressed onto his wound.
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” the soldier quickly responds, his eyes darting to the other riders as if seeking reassurance, but they avoid his gaze. He surveys the scene: the large, decapitated body in a puddle of drying blood and me sitting beside the prince, alive and unharmed.
“It’s dawning. All survivors of the first Trial are invited to rest and recuperate in the palace of Nighthaven until the next long night.”
Atos’s hairy armpits! The thought of setting foot in the Unseelie capital sends a shiver down my spine. Father always spoke of it as an ancient, treacherous place where the common laws of nature don’t apply.
“Very well. We ride immediately,” Aeidas declares with the same cold, imperious tone he used in the Governor’s Palace.
Did he just say ride? That’s too bad. Seems I have an excuse not to go after all.
“Sorry to decline this invitation, but it seems like I’m staying here. I cannot ride.” Eyes, wide with disbelief, land on me.
“That’s out of the question, Talysse Nightglimmer,” the messenger interrupts. “Orders are for all contestants to gather at the palace.”
“You cannot ride?” Aeidas asks, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I thought you lived in the stables!”
