The young man’s eyes have the wild look of cornered prey. “Is it him, Mikkel? The one who made the chasm? The monster from the stories?”
“Yes, Peder, that’s ’im. I’d recognize evil anywhere I saw it,” Mikkel says, poxy face twisting into a sneer.
“Then he can destroy us with a snap of his fingers!” Peder cries.
“Be brave now! There’s somethin’ wrong with ’im. He looks naught but a floppy boy! Weak as a woman!” Mikkel says.
“Oi! Not weak as this woman,” the broad-shouldered fae says, her braid swaying as she staggers forward. “Should I show you?”
“Long as you leave some for the rest of us, Berit,” the red-haired one spits.
As I’m about to speak, Berit draws back her foot and kicks. Her heavy boot connects with my jaw, and I’m sent skiddingacross the ground. Another chorus of laughter breaks out between them.
“Caught a rat right in our own home! We’ll show ’im the force of the Deep Guard!” Mikkel calls and stomps toward me.
I want to rise, but he’s on me, pinning down my legs with his and holding my arms with his meaty fists.
“Give him one for your brother, Bjørn!”
The red-haired man lunges forward, agony etched on his features. “Troll crawled up and took my brother! You did that! You brought them forth!” With a roar, he draws back his fist and punches me in the face. Warm blood trickles from my nose.
“This one’s for Mami!” Berit screams and stomps down on my ankle.
Pain shoots through my leg, and I cry out, but I don’t try to break out of Mikkel’s grip.
It would be so easy to throw these ruffians off me. To turn their own shadows against them. To tie their legs and arms in darkness. To whisper in their ears:Am I the ghost that haunts your nightmares? Do you see my face in every dark shadow, waiting to leap out at you?
Because that’s how they see me. Evil. Monster.Villain.
But I don’t. I let them take shot after shot.
“Your turn, Peder!” Mikkel calls to the young man.
Peder cries as he hits me, tangled words of his grandmother coming out in sobs.
My head is hazy, mouth filled with blood. Pain riots in my lungs, and I wonder if one’s cracked my rib.
But how can I fight back when they’re right?
They saw the beast, and they’re doing what any person would. Hunt it to protect those they love.
They’ll need this anger and more to survive whatever’s lying in wait in the tunnels I just opened.
“Prince of Thorns! Prince of Whores! Prince of Death! Prince of Shadow!” Mikkel bellows as he strikes me with each name. “Winter has no place for traitors! We’ll bury you in snow and let the frost gnaw what’s left!”
Wouldn’t that be poetic? To die in Winter? Most deserved, certainly. I always figured Kel would be the end of me, though I imagined it at his hands?—
Not that I’ll die here. They can break my bones. Bloody my body. I’ve survived worse. I don’t know if a fae alone can kill me, not after everything Mother’s put me through.
But they’ll try. And I’ll let them.
Because it is what I deserve.
“That’senough,” a deep voice cuts over the sounds of my jaw clattering with each hit. “You have the wrong man.”
My vision is blurry, but I see a dark shape descend over us. He heaves Mikkel off me, throwing him across the ground.
“Back away, all of you. The next time, I will not ask so politely.”
