I am done bowing.
I am ready to climb the walls of that pit when the trapdoor opens, and instead of my food being thrown in, Rawson climbsdown with a hood in his hand. If he notices my defiant glare as he rams it over my head, I don’t know, but he leads me to the ladder, and I climb out, the warm sunlight caressing my skin for the first time in days.
I am once again marched blindly, with my arm bent behind my back—though this time, thankfully, not bound and made to kneel on the ground. My body aches from the knocks and falls I’ve taken over the last few days and the cramped space of the Pit.
“Remove her hood,” that sultry smooth voice commands, and the sudden brightness sears my eyes, images blurry as I blink rapidly to clear them.
My vision clears. There he is—lounging confidently on a throne-like wooden seat set below a wooden frame strung with a white canvas canopy above, a crude tent-like structure.
Shoulder-length pale grey hair, almost white, frames a face that had clearly seen its share of battles. He looks to be in his mid-thirties, possessing a rugged maturity that the younger Equitae lacked. Scars mar his strong, rough features, but it’s his piercing ice-blue eyes that terrify me, holding my gaze, tracking my challenging stare with a dark, seasoned intrigue.
Reth Whiteborn. Alpha Stallion of the Heartwood Herd, the only Herd of Horse Shifter Fae left in Kaladia.
His lip curls back, revealing sharp teeth. His nostrils flare. The muscles in his jaw clench so tight I can see them working beneath the skin. His eyes narrow to slits, and every line of his face hardens. Something in me wants to flinch back, to look away, but I force myself to hold still.
Domanikk leans against the wooden frame to the right of where Reth sits, his posture casual but his gaze blatantly carnal. He doesn’t just look at me—he’s devouring me, his eyes tracing the lines of my body with a slow, possessive leer thatmakes my own skin crawl. He looks like a Fae who has found exactly what he wants and doesn’t care who knows it.
Ceira is perched on the left arm of the chair, Reth’s hand absentmindedly caressing up and down her thigh. A few other Equitae are also present, including Rawson.
“According to Quinn, Prince Kiernan is bereft at losing his new wife. So, you can imagine my surprise when I find out that very wife has been sitting in the Pit for two days, right here in Heartwood,” Reth states,, his voice low and measured.
“In all fairness, he was an idiot to leave such a tempting morsel unattended. Like a moth to a flame.” Domanikk smirks.
Reth’s lip curls. “More like a dog in heat.” He turns his ice-blue stare on Domanikk. “What were you thinking? Do you realise what kind of shit they will rain down on us to get her back?”
“Actually, Quinn reports they have halted their plans to march on Heartwood for now,” Rawson adds.
My resolve falters slightly at his words.
My spine goes rigid. The breath I’m drawing stops halfway, trapped somewhere in my throat. The ground beneath my knees suddenly feels less solid, as if the earth itself has shifted.
They are not coming for me?
“At least that gives us some time to deal with this mess. Rawson, get the other prisoners.” Reth barks loudly, his deep voice echoing, startling everyone nearby.
Reth gets up, and heat rises to my cheeks as he stalks towards me. He is tall, well over six foot, and his broad, muscled chest strains at his brown leathers, his ice-blue Enchantra glinting in the middle. He walks with the confidence of a Fae that knows everyone holds their breath in his presence. He stops slightly away from me, his face scrunched as if the mere smell of me disgusts him.
Though to be fair, after two days in the Pit—wallowing in my own waste—I disgust myself too.
“Name?” He asks, looking down at me.
“Alaya Mor—Alaya Steel,” I say, looking back with determination. A small flicker of a smile twitches on his mouth to be quickly replaced as he purses his lips tight.
“Alaya Steel.” My name oozes slowly from his mouth like he’s tasting each syllable. “Your name will be forgotten in the earth where your blood seeps, feeding the fertile land, the only worth you Earthbound Fae have as redemption.” He hisses through his clenched teeth, his control wavering.
“What makes you think I don’t want to be forgotten?” I scowl back.
He looks at me curiously, his ice-blue eyes flashing.
“That bastard Prince got himself a wife with bite! I’m impressed. It will make killing you so much sweeter.” He smirks, turning away as the other captives arrive.
I bite back a retort and finally look around at Heartwood. We are in a large clearing surrounded by a thick, impenetrable forest. Above the treeline, ice-capped mountains loom on all sides, creating the valley where Heartwood lies. A mismatch of various-sized tented buildings are scattered about the clearing, creating a village-like feeling. I kneel at its centre, which seems to be their gathering area, with a large fire, a long, rough wooden table and chairs, and the tent Reth had been sitting under.
I almost let out a cry yet manage to clamp my hand over my mouth as I look over to where Reth has met the other captives with Rawson at the other side of the fire.
Both Earthbound Fae look as terrified and dirty as me, but it’s the one staring so intently at me—dirty blond hair plastered to his face, bright blue eyes wide—that punches the air from my lungs. My stomach clenches, then drops, as if the groundhas given way beneath me. My chest constricts, ribs squeezing tight.
Heller.
