Jassin’s mocking laughter rang in my ears, but I hardly heard it now. My mind spun like a colorful carousel. Collith had finally stepped forward, into the light, but his expression was neutral. I grasped at stray memories, hoping for any mention of the Unseelie King. Mom had focused more on lore and mythology, though. Dad on his beliefs of acceptance and equality. What did this really mean? Why had Collith kept who he was a secret?
He didn’t acknowledge us as he stooped to say something in Damon’s ear, and at last my frail brother stood up. Maybe it was the angle of firelight, or just my own mind fracturing, but for a wild instant I found myself looking at Dad. His dear, familiar face stared back. I blinked, dazed and overwhelmed. Hope tore through me. Had it been a bad dream? All of it?
A moment later, Damon’s features came into focus. His hair was a bit lighter than Dad’s, his mouth a bit fuller. The carousel in my head jerked to a screeching halt. I experienced a sharp pain, like Dad had died all over again, and reality returned. It was exactly what I needed—a jarring reminder that none of this mattered. Not Collith, not Jassin, not my questions. I’d come here for Damon. From now on, I’ll be a better sister. I’ll take care of you. Promise.
“You’re right,” I blurted. Jassin cocked his head. The movement made me think of a cat again, its eyes bright and unblinking as it watched a bird outside the window. I swallowed and forced myself to continue. “Collith hasn’t touched me. No one has.”
“What are you getting at?” Jassin asked, his expression more entertained than intrigued. Damon looked ill. I tried to get a read of Collith’s emotions through our mating bond, but he was a curious blank.
My mind worked quickly. Jassin knew we were Nightmares, of course. There would be no element of surprise there. But I’d always been stronger than my brother; the faerie wouldn’t expect that. I took a breath.
“I’m a virgin. Fresh and ripe for the picking. Take me in Damon’s place.”
Part of me expected Collith to intervene or protest. Anything but his continued silence. Damon, however, didn’t remain silent. “Fortuna, stop this,” he spat. “It’s not necessary. I already told you—”
“Shut up,” Jassin said. Damon obeyed instantly, and his mouth closed with an audible snap. I kept my eyes on Jassin, because I worried if I didn’t, the others would guess my intentions. The copper-haired faerie regarded me for a long, long moment. My heart thundered in my chest. Then, in a gesture eerily similar to Collith’s just before our mating ceremony, Jassin offered his hand.
His fingers were decorated with silver rings. One of them had scales and glittering rubies for eyes. Those long nails looked like they could slice my skin with a single twitch. Suddenly I remembered the scars I had seen on Damon’s back—I’d stood there wondering what could’ve made such small, deep wounds. Mystery solved, I thought numbly.
Jassin waited patiently for my decision. He didn’t say the words, but the implication was clear; if I took it, a bargain was struck. Damon leaned forward, probably to get my attention, but I didn’t look away from Jassin’s hand. I steeled myself and reached out.
My fingers curled around his.
I didn’t give him a chance to react—a second was all I needed. I clawed through Jassin’s mind without mercy. It was far more complex than anything I’d encountered. His thoughts and memories were a maze of twists and turns, endings and beginnings. There was violence and blood around every corner. It was like walking through a funhouse of horrors. At some point, I stumbled across the realization that Jassin could hear or insert thoughts into others’ head, which was how he’d tormented Damon with visions of his dying family. Fury blackened my heart, but I forced myself to keep going.
Eventually I found it. On the outer edges, cowering in the darkness, a secret hid. I seized it, ignoring the lightning bolts of pain that shot through me from the contact.
Jassin of the Unseelie Court, a creature who had taken my brother from me for two years, was afraid of light. Blinding, incandescent light. A triumphant smile stretched across my face.
“I see you,” I crooned. Suddenly the passageway was full of sunlight, lamp posts, fire, flashlights. Nowhere to hide. Damon and Collith couldn’t see my illusion, but they knew something had changed—both of them went stiff. I waited and watched, expecting Jassin to whimper or crumble as all the rest had.
With his eyes still closed, he yanked me close. I was so surprised that I lost my footing and fell against him. Jassin dug his fingers into my ass and pressed us together, showing me how aroused he was. The damn skirt tore and I felt cool air on my bare leg.
“Oh, how you’ve miscalculated,” the faerie breathed. Now he opened his eyes and looked at me with pure, unadulterated glee. At this proximity, I could see that his irises were gold. “I was among the soldiers when the Dark Prince gathered his army. I followed him into the throne room when he marched against God. Few things give me pleasure or reprieve from this endless boredom. Fear is one of them. Why else do you think I’ve kept your pretty brother alive?”
He was telling the truth. I could feel his terror, taste it like all the others. It had a tangy flavor this time, like an apple plucked from the tree too soon. But rather than cripple him, the sensation gave Jassin a high. Never in my life had I met a creature that thrived on my power. New plan, I thought in a haze of panic. The brilliant light around us faded as I withdrew from his mind.
I didn’t pause to reconsider; I acted on instinct and desperation. Between one breath and the next, Dad’s knife was in my hand, easily accessible through the tear in the dress. I pressed my hand against Jassin’s chest to put some distance between us and raised the other. He anticipated the move—it was so sloppy, Dad would’ve been appalled—and my wrist slammed into his waiting hand. Jassin’s grip tightened painfully. I cried out, and the knife hit the earth with a dull thud.
Damon was pale. “Jassin, please, she didn’t—”
This time Jassin didn’t bother with a command; he backhanded my brother across the face. Damon slammed into the wall. I shrieked with fury and reached up to rake my nails down Jassin’s face. He hissed and released me. Just as I was about to launch at him again, the tip of Dad’s knife pressed to my throat. I froze.
“Damon?”
Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I can’t let you hurt him,” he said.
Indifferent to our exchange, Jassin looked at Collith with glittering eyes. There were four angry marks down his skin, but his voice was unperturbed as he said, “Your mate just tried to take what is mine. I demand a tribunal.”
That was when I knew; this was exactly what Jassin had wanted. He’d been steps ahead of me, probably from the moment I’d first embraced Damon. And whatever a tribunal was, it wasn’t good.
Everyone waited for Collith’s reply. Even now, he wouldn’t acknowledge me. A few seconds ticked by. Then he simply nodded, brushed past, and walked back the way we’d come. Jassin snapped his fingers at Damon like a dog, then trailed after Collith without bothering to say another word. I almost launched myself at him then and there.
“Send word to the bloodlines,” I heard my mate say. Who was he talking to?
Slowly, Damon lowered the knife. A single tear still hung off the edge of his jaw. Without a word or glance, he trailed after his lover and sovereign. He still clutched Dad’s knife, and I wondered if he knew who it had once belonged to.
I watched them go, and it felt like I was on the verge of breaking. Somehow, this was worse than those three days in the goblins’ cabin. There was more at stake, and I was losing. What would Oliver say if he was here?
You can do this, Fortuna. I know you can. You’re a fighter … now fight.
Suddenly it occurred to me that there was no one in my way if I were to run. I had no intention of leaving Damon down here, but the tribunal sounded like something to be avoided. Maybe I could go for help, or at the very least run back to the house for more weapons. Just as I was about to bolt, I sensed a presence at my back. I moved to snatch the knife—my fingers grappled at empty air—and spun.
Two faeries stood there. One was massive, and the other was petite. Their features were plainer than those of Collith and Jassin. There were no imperfections, of course, but their coloring was duller. Like quails keeping company with peacocks. They were dressed in armor, of sorts, made of smooth wood and frayed rope. Each held a long, jagged weapon, and the blades looked like they were made of glass. I knew in an instant there would be no getting around them or fighting through; these were warriors. Collith’s guards, probably.
How strange it was that I was now in a world where there was such a thing as guards.
Both regarded me with mild curiosity. “I’d tell you to take a picture, but you probably don’t even have a camera in this hellhole,” I muttered.
Neither of them reacted. We kept staring at each other until the male indicated with his sword that I should walk. Feeling mutinous, I stayed where I was for a few more seconds. The male took a threatening step toward me. I was half-tempted to grab his arm and shatter his mind beyond all repair, but the female would be on me in an instant. So I gritted my teeth and turned. We started down the passageway, and my progress was less-than-graceful because of the dress. There was no sign of Damon or the bastards he’d gone with. I strained to hear the echo of footsteps or conversation, but there was just the scrape of my own slippers.
I was on my own.
The passages continued to branch off or end abruptly; it truly was a maze. Every now and then, the male spoke in a rumble, telling me which direction to go. We must’ve arrived at a more inhabited part of the Court—sounds came from behind the intricate doors now. A laugh. The strums of a harp. A rhythmic thumping. My grip tightened on the skirt involuntarily; I was in the heart of the lion’s den.
The deeper we went, the higher the ceiling became. The stones along the floor and walls were smoother. They’d been placed carefully so there was no visible dirt. I could almost believe we were in a castle, were it not for the utter lack of windows. To make up for this, there were even more torches. Their soft crackling filled my ears. Then a new sound disturbed the stillness.
At first, I thought it was running water or a bee’s nest. A few steps later the passage stopped, and I found myself in a huge room. On the other end was a doorway, open and beckoning. That was where the sound came from. Not streams or insects … voices. Hundreds of them. I could see faeries standing within, their backs to us. My stomach fluttered and sweat pooled beneath the stiff dress. “Keep moving,” the female ordered. I shuffled forward reluctantly, feeling vulnerable without Dad’s knife. And my powers hadn’t exactly been helpful, either.
As we drew closer, I finally tore my gaze away from the faeries. There was a mural, of sorts, covering the wall all around the doors. Torches throughout the room gave the images an eerie movement. It’s a story, I realized. While humanity evolved and fought and created, the fae had been making history of their own beneath the earth. Carved by different hands, each picture or figure depicted an event. A celebration, a battle, a birth. Centuries had passed in this small, dark world, and I knew practically nothing about these creatures my brother had fallen for.
We were at the threshold now, and I forgot about the mural. The female guard moved to my other side. They were finally in a position where I could grab them both, but it was too late. A purple-haired faerie at the back of the crowd took notice of us. She said something to her companion, who also turned. This happened again and again. Gradually, a hush fell, and soon everyone was looking at me. By some unspoken agreement, a path opened up in the middle of them.
We stepped into a cavernous room. It looked like the inside of a cathedral—columns lined the walls and a massive chandelier hung over the crowd. It was made of antlers and branches. But I couldn’t stare at the ceiling the entire time; reluctantly I turned my attention to the massive crowd. Send word to the bloodlines, Collith had said. There were hundreds of them. I had never felt so weak and small. To fight the feeling, I raised my head high.
The fae wore clothing of bark, leaves, furs. Some had jarring makeup like mine. Others wore modern clothing, clearly taken from the human world. I spotted a female in high heels and a male wearing a leather jacket. That one stared at me with obvious awe—so they weren’t completely immune to my power.
There were also humans here. Many were hollow-cheeked and half-naked. One was a boy who couldn’t be more than thirteen; he watched my progress with feverish eyes. Taking note of how his ribs stood out, my hatred for the fae grew. Farther on, my gaze met a woman’s. She might have been my age, but the smudges beneath her eyes and the emptiness in her expression made her seem ancient. Someone had shaved her head, and remaining tufts of blond hair caught the light. At that moment, a faerie jabbed the woman in the ribs, and she lowered her eyes. I slowed, thinking to intervene, but the male guard growled in warning. I kept going.
At the far end of the room was a dais, and resting atop that was a throne. It was the biggest chair I’d ever seen. It had been carved from the roots of a great tree, which came down from the ceiling. Laurie stood near it, his shoulders hunched and head bowed. As I watched, Collith ascended the uneven stairs. I sent a prayer to whoever was listening that he would trip or fall. No such luck. He sat in the chair and looked out at his subjects. His scar shone in the light. In that moment, he truly did look like the Unseelie King. Like a dark fairy tale. Like a terrible dream.
Though he had to notice us making our way toward him, he still wouldn’t look at me.
Moments later, we stopped at the base of the makeshift stage. Damon and Jassin stood to our left, but my brother was shielded from view. I shifted so I could see his face. He caught the movement, and when our eyes met, Damon’s expression twisted with guilt and worry. Before I could do anything, he faced forward again. My father’s knife was no longer in his possession.
There was a palpable sense of anticipation in the air. It occurred to me that many of these creatures probably passed their days and nights beneath the ground, without technology or a world to explore. Any break in routine must’ve been exhilarating.
“A tribunal has been requested,” Collith called, lightly gripping the armrests. His voice echoed. “Who will stand as my council?”
One by one, three faeries detached from the throng. The first to approach was a reedy female with waist-length white hair. There was no way to know her age, but years hung around her like an invisible curtain. The second seemed younger, another warrior type with thick muscles and sharp eyes. The last was a dark-skinned male with delicate limbs and golden jewelry. He emanated a sort of … serenity.
They approached the dais. The warrior hopped up nimbly, and the rest followed more demurely. They stood around the throne like shadows, and I felt the last male studying me. “Why have you asked for this gathering? In English, please, so the Nightmare can understand,” Collith commanded.
At this, Jassin arched an eyebrow. The Nightmare. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head, wondering if he should reveal who I really was to the king. That I was his mate and not just a Nightmare come to save her brother. I had no idea whether it would make things better or worse for me. I was also regretful to see that the scratches I’d bestowed upon him were already healing. “Balance must be restored,” Jassin said instead, almost absent-mindedly, as he wrapped one of my brother’s curls around his finger. Collith leveled a look at him, and the copper-haired faerie rolled his eyes. “Very well, I found the Nightmare outside my chambers. She made efforts to steal my slave. Is that specific enough, Your Majesty?”
Mutters erupted through the crowd. I opened my mouth to say something—point out that Damon wasn’t a slave, that I didn’t abide by faerie laws, that Jassin had been the thief—but Laurie shook his head in a silent warning. Fury made the blood in my veins boil. Why should I trust you? I wanted to spit. Maybe I was a fool, though, because part of me still wanted to. So I gritted my teeth and stayed silent.
As if he sensed the danger, Collith chose that moment to finally address me. “You attempted to steal something that was already claimed. In return, the lord you offended will be allowed to take something of yours,” he explained. His tone was polite and distant.
Just then, there was movement out of the corner of my eye. Damon was saying something in Jassin’s ear, low and urgent. Whatever he said piqued the faerie’s interest, and he turned his head. While they spoke, Laurie sidled up next to me. No one seemed to notice him. “They can’t take your life,” he murmured. “Because it was just a slave you tried to steal, the balance only demands something equal to a belonging or object.”
Something in my chest loosened, and I breathed easier. “Oh, well, that’s great. I’m so glad it was just a slave I set my sights on. Also, remind me why I can’t defend myself?”
“Because punishment is inevitable. Speaking now will only amuse or piss them off, depending on their moods. Either way, you just prolong the process.”
“I’m already bored with this,” Jassin droned suddenly, pulling away from Damon. “Take the flesh from her back and be done with it.”
A hysterical laugh burst from me. Laurie grasped my shoulder, giving it a squeeze of warning, but I shook him off. I spun to face our vibrant onlookers. Don’t you want to know who let me in? I tried to say—if I was going down, I was taking Collith with me —but all that emerged was a weak croak. A second ticked past, and I tried again. Nothing. Time seemed to slow as I realized why.
Collith had taken my voice.
Slowly, I turned again. For a minute, the rest of the room faded away. I stared up at the faerie I’d married, sitting on his pretty throne, and thought about punishments of my own. Ignoring me, the Unseelie King looked to the solemn-faced faeries standing around him. “Does the council find this fair?” he asked. The only indication that he was affected by my plight was his long fingers, which tapped an erratic beat. His ring flashed.
The guards closest to the dais came forward. They formed a tight circle around the three faeries. I strained to hear what they were saying. Their voices were too low, but each of them made slight movements that indicated a conversation was happening. My pulse was thunderous.
Apparently the tall female was their spokesperson; in less than a minute she straightened and gave a single nod. Her voice rang into the stillness, cool and refined. “It’s a sound judgement.”
At this, Collith signaled to the guards, and the female took hold of my arm. I jerked away and spit in her face. She responded with a blow that sent me to the ground—there was nothing human in the strength behind it. Spots of color filled my sight. The inside of my mouth tasted like salt and metal. The guard grabbed hold again, hauled me up, and moved toward another tangle of roots. It stood to the right of the dais, within everyone’s line of sight but slightly removed from everything. My heart, which had already been pounding hard and fast, picked up speed. Was this really happening? Wasn’t anyone going to stop it?
As though she could hear the panicked spiral of my thoughts, the guard produced a rope and secured my wrists to one of the thicker branches. I was still swaying on my feet, and there was no chance to react or decide. The instant she was finished, the guard turned away. I couldn’t even snap an insult at her retreating back.
My breathing was loud and ragged. I tested the strength of the ropes and knew straightaway there would be no escaping this. The prospect of pain didn’t terrify me so much as an entire court of fae taking enjoyment of it. While I weighed my options, Jassin raised his voice, shouting in his own tongue. He seemed to be searching the assemblage.
Conversations halted.
For a few seconds, I had no idea why they’d gone silent. I craned my neck to see the room. Then there was movement along the back wall, and my gaze snapped toward it. Faeries were parting with obvious wariness as a creature slowly made its way toward the dais. It towered above all the rest and wore a cloth around its face. The brown material was covered in dark stains.
Jassin sauntered over to me. I yanked against the ropes in a futile effort to get away, which only seemed to give him more pleasure. He leaned close and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “The children call him druindar northana. Roughly translated to Death Bringer, in your crude tongue.”
He licked my ear lobe, and I jerked back too late. Fresh hatred mixed with the terror, and my trembling intensified. With a smirk, Jassin returned to my brother’s side. This time I didn’t even glance at Damon; the huge faerie had arrived. He stood behind me, and the air felt colder than normal. I couldn’t suppress a shiver. I kept twisting to keep my eyes on him, trying to see any hint of a face through those stiff folds. Then the creature’s hand appeared. The first detail I noticed was his dark, splintered nails, even more distasteful than Jassin’s. The second was the thing they were clutched around.
It was the handle of a cat o’ nine tails.
“Fortuna Sworn,” Collith called, “you have committed a crime according to the old laws. Balance must be restored. You have been sentenced to twenty lashes—an amount we’ve found even lesser creatures can survive—at the end of which your debt will be paid.”
There was a moment of utter silence, and I turned to fix my stare resolutely on the floor. In doing so, I caught a glimpse of the crowd. Some looked on with obvious distaste, while others grinned or giggled. The male who had been staring at me with such reverence tried to come forward, but there was a brief scuffle and another faerie dragged him from the room.
Then the creature swung his gigantic arm. Though I was anticipating it, the blow was so shocking that I couldn’t hold back a scream. Apparently Collith had returned the use of my voice. He wanted me to cry out. He wanted the court to take enjoyment in the Nightmare’s pain. My skin burned white-hot where the whip had struck. I held back a whimper, resolving to make no more sound. I was also determined to stay standing. But the cat o’ nine tails came down again and it was no use. I buckled. My knees hit the ground with a jarring thud. I bit my lip so hard I tasted more blood. There was no thought, no sense of self.
Just the fire.
The whip kept raining down, tearing me from shoulder blades to calves. As it went on, I turned to look at Collith. To make sure he was watching every second. Missing nothing. Not the suffering in my expression, not the rope tearing my wrists, not the leather bearing down on me. With every lash, I lost more than skin and blood.
I lost the potential to someday love my mate.
The agony worsened with every blow. Eventually it was too much. Collith’s inscrutable face became hazy, and I broke our stare to sag against the roots. The lashes didn’t stop. I’d lost count of them. They just came again, and again, and again. Tears and snot ran down my face. I didn’t care.
Someone spoke from a vast distance, and the whip finally stopped. The ropes around my wrists went slack. I slid to the floor, hovering on the edge of consciousness. The coldness that surrounded Death Bringer retreated, but I couldn’t form a coherent thought. There was only the pain.
All at once, music began to play, whistles and fiddles that filled the air with merriment. Conversations came back to life. “Get that out of the way,” I heard Jassin order. I opened my eyes —the world was a crooked blend of colors and movement—and watched as he pulled my brother into his arms. Damon glanced down at me, his face anguished. An instant later, he moved out of my view. A female’s skirt swirled as the dancing started. Someone laughed.
Rough fingers wrapped around my arms and dragged me through the crowd of revelers. My destroyed back scraped along the stones, which should have been torture. Everything felt muted, though. I was distantly aware that our progress left a trail of blood. My gown was soaked through and parts of it were in tatters. We were heading for a small doorway. If they meant to kill me, I wouldn’t be able to fight back.
Beneath heavy lids, I spotted Collith. He still sat on his throne, and his gaze met mine. In that moment, his mask seemed to slip, revealing something besides the cold creature that had been sitting in that chair all this time. I knew it was wishful thinking, a pathetic hope that I hadn’t married a monster. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed darkness to swallow me. It didn’t.
The sounds from the throne room faded. There was just my breathing, the dragging, and the guards’ footsteps. A mental image came in and out of focus, a meadow covered in bright wildflowers. A familiar figure sat with his back to me. “Oliver?” I whispered. Just as he turned, the image slipped away. I moaned with frustration. A moment later, one of the guards stopped and lifted me. The male, I realized when I felt his flat chest against my shoulder. He smelled like he hadn’t washed himself in weeks. He said something to his companion, and she replied in a bored tone. Probably discussing whether I’d last the night.
We were going down a set of stairs; the temperature dropped and the space felt narrower. Hinges squealed. A few steps farther, the guard threw me down like a sack of flour. I hit the hard ground and moaned again. Then a lock clicked.
The sound made my eyes fly open. The second I’d registered what was happening—they had put me in a cell—panic shattered through the wall of pain around me. “No!” I screamed. Apparently I did have some strength left after all; I flung myself at the bars in a futile effort to get out. The guards were already gone. I screamed after them, every obscenity and threat I could think of.
Silence answered me. Still gripping the bars, I sank to the ground. A single torch burned nearby, and its light was feeble. There was nothing kind about the resulting darkness. Though I hated myself for giving in, for letting them break me, I couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked my body. The side of my face throbbed and the rest of me hurt so badly, I could hardly think straight. I’d never known pain like this. I’d already been punished, hadn’t I? Why was I down here?
“Would you stop that wailing? Some of us are trying to sleep.”
The voice came from all around, echoing off the cold, dripping walls. I jerked upright. The movement sent a lightning bolt through me, and it took a few attempts to speak. “Who are you?” I rasped.
“Just another fool they threw down here and forgot about,” the voice replied. Female, I thought.
It made me wonder who else occupied the cells down here. But if there were others, they were dead or asleep—the only sound in the vicinity was that small, struggling flame. I leaned my temple against the stone and fought another wave of dizziness. “What was your crime?”
The stranger sighed. “I gave my allegiance to the king, then promptly tried to assassinate him.”
“But I thought faeries couldn’t lie,” I whispered. My mind raced.
This earned a derisive snort. “Oh, you poor, stupid creature. Of course we can. We lie about everything. That rumor was established millennia ago. Some clever faerie thought it would be advantageous if the rest of the world thought we could be trusted.”
The revelation was too large, too heavy, and I couldn’t begin to think about the implications of it. Once again, darkness hovered at the edges of my vision.
And there, wearing a ruined faerie gown, sitting in a pool of my own blood, I succumbed to it.