Page 144 of Blood of the Fairest

A slight tingle of magic raises goosebumps on my arms. In my peripheral vision, I see several bandits looking around warily, sensing something unspeakable.

The hooded man vanishes in retreat, leaving nothing but grey smoke behind.

"At last, my name upon your lips," the faerie murmurs—but this time, it isn't in my head. It echoes all around, making my attackers shout in alarm. "Close your eyes, lest my wrath haunt you."

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, still not ready to know what Wrath looks like.

A whoosh brushes past. Spice-scented wind coasts over my face.

Then, the screams of men rend the air around me, battering my eardrums. The burly man behind me disappears without a chance to scream. Sickening sounds follow—schlicks and cracks and something like limbs falling to the forest floor.

Trying to distract myself from the unseen gore, I squeeze my eyes tighter and hum that same nameless, melancholy tune that gets stuck in my head constantly. For a moment, it's enough to calm the painful crashing of my heartbeat.

Until another man screams in terror close by, drowning out my humming. The smell of more burnt flesh makes me want to puke. Smoke and various fruit scents flood the air around me.

I hold my breath for a moment, desperate not to have an idea of the massacre surrounding me.

But I know it's a massacre. I also get a rush of strangely familiar anger intensifying in my blood—as if Wrath's very presence is making my body furious about something I can't even remember, but I should.

Then, all at once, it goes perfectly quiet except the crackling of a fire and a sound like…water pouring into a metal water bottle?

I don't understand that, but I keep my eyes shut tightly.

"Are you all right, Fairest?" Eris asks quietly from somewhere on the ground. I'm guessing a fallen sword.

"How pathetically you coddle her," Malivant mutters, making me tense when I realize he's directly behind me. "She is well enough, all thanks to my aid."

I take a calming breath to work through the rest of this fear. It's hard not to gag at the scents of blood, burnt flesh, and smoke.

I manage to keep my voice from shaking, but it's raspy. "Mind freeing my wrists?"

Warmth moves closer to my back. Something—oh, my god, I think that's a claw—slides through the ropes before they fall away and I can move my hands again.

Still, I keep my eyes shut, fighting a shiver. This faerie just slaughtered eleven dangerous men with ease. He might be deluded enough to expect a thank you for that, but I just want him to go. I want to get out of these woods, check on Snow White and the others, and…

I want another big bear hug from the Huntsman.

There, I said it.

And maybe it's wrong to want that, because the guy is magically pledged to me—but right now, I feel like that's the only thing that's going to soothe the too-familiar terror of being taken.

Something drags across the forest floor nearby, and then Malivant speaks again. This time, he's in front of me.

"Hold out your hands. Palms up."

"Uh…yeah, I'm gonna go with no. That won't be happening. If you could just tell me which direction to walk out of here, I'll keep my eyes shut so I never have to see you and⁠—"

The faerie makes an annoyed sound, and I nearly leap out of my skin when a hand takes my wrist. A warm, human-feeling hand, as if he's just a man, even though I know he's not.

He guides my hand up until it comes in contact with what feels like the bottom of a warm metal bowl. My other hand goes up to support the considerable weight of it before his hand disappears from my wrist.

"There. Don't spill."

Spill?

Peeking open an eye, I immediately recoil hard, nearly sloshing blood out of the upside-down helmet I'm holding.

I'm so horrified that I start to look up—but I slam my eyelids shut again after glimpsing a massive shape in the darkness.