CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It turned out that the conversation with Laurie was exactly what I needed.

After using the bucket—I cringed the entire time—and wolfing down one of the protein bars I’d brought, I went back to the stack of books with renewed vigor. For the first time, I was thankful there was no clock in here; I would’ve lost precious seconds glancing at it. Worrying. Dreading. The second trial loomed closer and closer. Collith had mentioned they would take place, one by one, at the same time over the next three days.

I finally learned a few things that might come to be useful. Some spells that could very well save not only me, but other humans, too. I took a picture of the pages with my phone—data didn’t work down here, of course, but that didn’t affect the camera—since there was no way I was memorizing the complex words. Having them might come in handy, later.

Just as I started to put my phone down, an odd video in the photo albums caught my eye. The screen was entirely black. With a jolt, I suddenly remembered what it was—I had recorded Collith’s wedding vows. After everything that had happened, I’d completely forgotten about it.

My curiosity was piqued now. Just as I started to press the white circle that would play Collith’s words, the door opened. I jumped and shoved my phone under the cushion, as though I’d been caught doing something forbidden. Three women came in, carrying a heavy-looking tub between them. Their clothing was ragged and their frames too thin. I rose, but none of them looked my way. They set the tub down in the middle of the room and walked out. Okay, I thought. Thanks for the tub, I guess.

Just as I moved to sit down again, the women reappeared. Now they each carried a wooden bucket. One by one, they dumped water into the tub. Steam rose toward the ceiling. I started to ask them if I could help, but once again, they all left. This time, I didn’t sit. As I suspected, they returned a few minutes later, their buckets once again full to the brim. “Where is the water? I want to help,” I insisted. It irked being waited on by humans who had no choice in the matter. But the women ignored me, and by the time I considered following them out, they were already gone. I poked my head into the passageway— there were two guards I’d never seen before—and there was no sign of them. Book forgotten, I paced in front of the fire.

The next time the women appeared, there was a finality in the way they poured the water. I’d missed the boat, apparently. “Wait,” I said as they turned to go yet again. “When was the last time those assholes let you bathe? Stay. Use the tub.”

The tallest woman paused. She wouldn’t look me in the eye, forcing me to stare at the greasy part in her dark hair. “For you,” she said in broken English, gesturing jerkily at the tub. One of the other women was draping clothes over a chair. It was nearly identical to the outfit I’d worn during the first trial. In the handful of seconds I took to notice this, they all hurried out and closed the door behind them.

The bucket in the corner had been replaced, too. That wasn’t embarrassing at all.

I sighed and fully turned toward the bath they’d prepared. Petals floated on the water’s surface, emitting a floral smell into the air. My muscles ached just imagining the heat, the momentary lapse from this underground chill. While I was Fallen, and therefore impervious to cold, it still wore on my psyche—the constant darkness and cold. It had begun to feel like I was trapped in some kind of purgatory. I shifted from foot to foot, eyeing the steam rising off that clear surface. I tried to think of any reason why using it would be like giving in or losing ground.

Oh, what the hell.

Moments later, my clothes were nothing more than an abandoned pile on the ground. With ginger movements, I stepped in. Dear God. I nearly melted the rest of the way down.

For a while, time lost meaning. My entire world narrowed down to the delicious warmth and the soothing sounds of the water lapping against the sides of the rub. It almost felt like every second of pain or horror seeped from me.

The next trial is in a few hours.

The thought came without warning. Though the words were quiet—nothing more than a whisper—my heart pounded fast and hard. I leaned forward to splash water on my face, willing the heat to wash everything away again. But it was no use; the thought had entered, unpacked its things, and made itself a permanent home inside me. Now it was all I could think about. What did the fae have in store tonight? What could be worse than an ancient beast that breathed fire?

Suddenly the door opened. I stiffened, torn between the urge to cover myself or dive for the shard of mirror. When I saw it was Collith, I relaxed somewhat. Before I could form some kind of greeting, he turned slightly to say something to Nuvian. Once again, I seized the chance to stare. I wondered where the king had changed; he looked more ordinary than when I’d seen him asleep on that throne.

This was the faerie that had visited me at Bea’s. His hair was artfully tousled. Dark jeans hung low on his hips and a white button-up clung to his every muscle. Collith faced me and I instantly averted my gaze. “Where did you go today?” I asked. The question emerged faintly bitter, though I didn’t mean it to be.

Voices sounded from the passage and boots crunched over dirt—it must’ve been a shift change. Ignoring the disturbance, Collith sat on the floor next to me and rested his forearms on the tops of his knees. All at once, I remembered I was naked. A furious blush crawled up my face as I hugged my knees against me. The water protested this abrupt movement, nearly sloshing over the sides. “I went back to the bar,” Collith answered. His hazel eyes darted down. He didn’t try to hide it.

But I was too startled to care. At his response, I blinked. “Bea’s? Why?”

“To check on the humans there; I know you care about them. They’re doing fine, by the way. Worried about you, of course, but fine.” Collith got onto his knees and gently took the sponge from my fingers. “May I?”

No, I said promptly. But nothing left my mouth. I sat there, being ripped in half by terror and desire. The real answer was that, yes, I wanted to feel his touch again. Our kiss in the woods was never far from my mind. Even after the truths Collith had withheld, the words he hadn’t said, the battles he hadn’t fought. How pathetic was that? Was it some kind of Stockholm Syndrome, or was I just that weak?

Collith was still waiting, his gaze steady, patient, as if he had all the time in the world. Well, actually, he does, that inner voice reminded dryly. I couldn’t bring myself to give Collith permission, though. It felt like someone had glued my mouth shut. It also felt like I would be betraying something. Damon, probably, or myself.

Maybe Collith sensed this through the bond; he stopped waiting for me to say the words and began running the sponge over my skin. My core clenched and tingled. Without thinking, I leaned forward to give him better access. “When do Úna and the other guard come back?” I asked abruptly. Anything to keep from acknowledging what was happening between us. I allowed myself a single glance toward Collith.

A shadow passed over his lovely face. He focused on the motions of his hand. “They won’t be returning, actually.”

“Why not?”

Collith tilted his head in that way he always did. He avoided looking at me. Why? Was the almighty faerie king ashamed? “I am still a relatively new ruler,” he said matter-of-factly. From his side of the bond, the darkness was very still, almost deliberately so. “I haven’t earned much loyalty, and loyalty is difficult to find in a faerie, anyway. If some in the court were to catch wind that I ordered my guards to protect you at the cost of a fae life, there would be rumblings of unrest. More than there already are, I should say. So I told those two to guard my rooms, instead, since that would be accepted. They knew what I really wanted, though; Úna and Abe aren’t fools. So you can imagine my displeasure when I learned you’d been wandering the passages alone.”

I hadn’t been alone, really. Although, after our conversation last night, I wasn’t sure whether Laurie would intervene if my life were in danger. But Collith was being surprisingly forthcoming, for once—it was the first time he’d readily answered one of my questions without any dodging or dancing—and I wasn’t about to bypass this opportunity. “Why did you want to be king, again?” I asked, trying to hide a wince as the sponge pressed slightly on a bruise along my collarbone. I hadn’t even known it was there; it must’ve happened during the battle with the Leviathan. “Honestly, it seems like a shitty gig.”

Collith laughed. Strangely enough, the sound made my stomach flutter. “You have such a way with words. Yes, it is, indeed, a ‘shitty gig’. Most days, I feel as though I’ve made no difference here. The fae loathe change and they resist it at every turn.”

“Then why do it? Especially if there’s a line of faeries just waiting for their chance?”

“That’s exactly why,” Collith said. He leaned closer to run the sponge along my chest. I tensed, but he didn’t dip lower or make an advance. His scent teased me for the hundredth time, so subtle and appealing. Collith settled back again, not seeming to notice my reaction. “Given a chance, the faeries in that long line would be tyrants. They’d relish in the corruption. They’d nurture it. The human disappearances would increase. Down here, slaves would be treated even worse, if you can believe that. I may not do much, but I hold them at bay as much as I can.”

I frowned at the water and considered this. His logic was twisted, yet noble, at the same time. What would I have turned out like, if I’d been raised amongst my species? If I hadn’t been fortunate enough to learn countless lessons at my father’s knee?

I could feel Collith watching my face. The silence had stretched too long as I’d been thinking. And those thoughts frightened me; they reeked too much of compassion. Feeling like a coward, I looked down as I spoke. “I won’t pretend to know anything about politics or faeries. However, from my experience, loyalty is rarely something that’s just handed over. You have to do something that inspires it.”

“Spoken like a true queen,” Collith said softly. My eyes darted to his, startled, and our gazes locked. Hazel, I decided. His eyes are hazel, not gray.

I was saved from having to respond—just then, the sponge finally touched one of the lash marks on my back. I made an odd, faint sound and stiffened. A strong burst of emotion vibrated down the bond, entirely unexpected after how quiet it had been all this time. Collith went still and stared at the network of scars. His dark brows drew together. “I made sure to feel every single lash,” he murmured.

I frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Collith seemed to shake himself. He resumed his administrations, making them even gentler, somehow. “During times of heightened emotion, the bond is more … navigable, perhaps,” he explained, his breath teasing my wet skin. “It’s how I was able to take your voice. We’re already able to feel what the other is feeling, but in circumstances like the tribunal, that can translate to the physical as well.”

I didn’t know what to say. My mind flashed back to his grip on those armrests. Back to his pale fingertips. That night, I’d assumed it was borne of excitement or habit. What if it had been something else, though? A voice in his head, screaming at Collith to do something?

I was beginning to understand this faerie king. He wasn’t evil, or cruel, or selfish. He was someone with a cause and nothing would pull him away from it. Too often, though, someone with a cause lost sight of themselves. The lines between right and wrong blurred. Passion became fanaticism. Collith seemed precariously close. After all, he hadn’t been deterred from his purpose even when it meant watching his mate being whipped within an inch of her life. I could hardly judge him for it. Look at the limits I was willing to go for my own cause—saving Damon.

If it meant sacrificing Collith, or myself, or anyone else, I’d probably do it. Collith and I were more alike than I liked. The realization made me deeply uncomfortable, so I sought to change the subject. “How are you such an expert on mating bonds?” I questioned, saying the words too loudly.

At this, a faint smile touched Collith’s lips. His eyes went hazy with remembrance. All the while, though, he didn’t stop trailing the soapy sponge along my shoulders, chest, and arms. “Growing up, I pestered my mother with questions. I was enamored with the idea of a best friend and a lover tied into one. I couldn’t wait to have it,” he added.

We were back in dangerous territory. Lover. Something we were not, but something both of us were thinking of now. The ambiance didn’t help. The crackling fire, the flickering lights and shadows, the steaming water. Once again, Collith’s eyes caught and held mine.

I like that he can see my real face, I thought suddenly.

I tried to look away, but something inside me resisted. As we continued to stare at each other, I felt my nipples harden. Collith’s gaze dropped, taking note of this fact. At a leisurely pace, his hand dipped into the water, where he abandoned the sponge, and then his fingers trailed back to the point they’d started at. They skimmed along my collarbone. Down the column of my throat.

A sensation spread through me, as though someone was running the tip of a feather over every inch of skin. There was no denying it—I wanted him. I would bear the scars on my back for the rest of my life, but somehow this faerie still made me ache. When I offered no resistance, his bold fingers drifted down the middle of my chest, then over the curve of my breast. His thumb teased my nipple in slow circles. Bumps raced across my skin.

Still giving me a chance to protest, Collith slowly dipped his head and pressed his lips to my neck. The feel of his tongue made me clench and tingle. I bit my lip to hold back a sigh. He continued to kiss and suck while his hand finally slid down my stomach and back into the soapy water.

The moan burst from me.

His touch was … exploratory. Reverent. I rested my head against the ridge of the tub and couldn’t stop myself from moving against his hand. Collith’s fingers didn’t dip inside, as I anticipated. Instead, they stayed on the surface, rubbing steadily at first. Then faster and faster. I bucked, helpless against the sensations coursing through me. He knew exactly where to keep his hand. Water splashed onto the floor.

I came in a smattering of seconds, the moment I reached that peak one of deafening and all-consuming pleasure.

Seconds passed. Everything felt slowed down. Heavy. I opened my eyes and Collith’s face came into focus, as though I had adjusted a camera lens. His eyes were glittering. When he stood, I saw the bulge straining at his jeans. Want, the drowsy part of me whispered. I sat up a little, on the verge of saying something dangerous, foolish, and completely unlike myself. Don’t stop.

“As much as I’d like to stay and admire, I’ll leave you to dress,” Collith said, the words thick. He cleared his throat. So you do affect him, that voice noted smugly. Holy shit, it was hot in here. I needed to get out of the water. “And someone will bring a tray of food for you; you haven’t had much since you’ve been here.”

It took another second for me to pay attention to what he was saying. The same instant I comprehended that he was actually leaving, he was already at the door. Wait, seriously? I nearly blurted. Collith nodded, wearing a half-smile that I’d never seen before, and allowed the darkness to swallow him.

In the minutes following his absence, my heartbeat slowed to its normal rhythm. Soon enough, self-loathing poisoned my insides. So I was no different from the rest of the females here that I’d seen draping themselves all over the fae. Groupies. Mindless. Morons. Collith hadn’t even had to try, goddamn it. One touch and I’d practically dissolved. Had he known this feeling would hit me? Was that why he’d left so quickly?

Still berating myself, I finally got out of the tub. The cold air was a welcome slap to the face. After toweling dry, I dressed in the outfit the three women had brought. Next I contemplated the huge, tempting bed. That orgasm had left me drowsy, but I didn’t want to sleep. Oliver knew me too well—one look and he’d be asking me what was wrong. That wasn’t a conversation I was ready for. Eventually I’d tell him what Collith had done to me in that tub. What hot, slow, delicious things he’d done to me.

Get a grip, Fortuna. I swallowed and tried to ignore the part of me that was throbbing again at the mere thought of Collith’s fingers. Okay, so, there would definitely not be any sleeping.

A sigh left me, long and resigned. I picked up a new book from the pile, sat down, and went back to work.

The entire room was silent.

Even the sound of my gum chewing seemed obtrusive—I’d discovered the piece of Dubble Bubble in the bottom of my backpack. Feeling defiant, I chewed louder.

Once again, I found myself standing before the throne. This time, I stood alone. This time, I had slayed a dragon. This time, I looked at Collith without expectation. He would not help me. He would not intervene if things took a turn for the worse. He was not an ally, but the court’s bitch.

I wasn’t sure when it had happened, exactly—maybe during the long walk to the throne room, or the moment I’d looked at Jassin and Damon, or in the instant I lifted my face toward Collith and saw the detached king looking back—but at some point my fear had been overridden by anger. I was fucking pissed. These creatures had broken my brother, tried to break me, and kept the Leviathan in the dark for only God knew how long. Their reign of terror had to end.

Which, I supposed, sort of put me and Collith on the same side.

The Tongue had already performed most of his ritual. There was a fresh cut across my palm that I hid by clenching it into a fist. He was wrapping up now, the lovely words rolling over me like waves along the ocean floor. There was nothing beautiful about this. These trials only brought death and pain.

Hundreds of eyes bored into my back. I didn’t think it was my imagination that the room was even fuller than it had been the last time; word must have spread about the trial. No one had survived this long. They were curious. They were excited.

Jassin’s comment slithered through my head. Few things give me pleasure or reprieve from this endless boredom.

“For this task, Nightmare, you will not be allowed to ask another creature for aid,” the Tongue said in English. It was the first time he’d bothered looking at me since I’d entered the room.

I blew a bubble. It popped in a burst of pink. “Are you going to, like, tell me what I’m doing?”

The corners of his mouth turned down with disapproval. “Find the door that leads to your world.”

That was it? I waited, certain there had to be more, but the Tongue just stared back. His eyes were black as oil. My gaze darted to Collith. As per usual, he wore that distant expression, the tips of his long fingers curled over the armrests. Resentment sprouted within me, but I didn’t give it a chance to grow. I transferred my gaze to Laurie, who stood beside his sovereign. Gone was the cowering, subservient creature he’d shown me until now. He stood there, his posture relaxed and casual. His bright eyes regarded me with interest, as if curious to see what I’d do next. Once again, questions pounded at me. Had it all been an act? But what was the purpose?

Screw them both. I swung away and strode briskly down the center aisle.

The entire room watched me go, and snatches of whispers floated through the air. Do you think that she … but what if it doesn’t … well I heard … to the viewing room …

I walked with purpose, every step firm and self-assured, as if I knew exactly where to go. It wasn’t until I was out of sight, well into the shadows of the maze, that I stopped and let the panic creep in. I spit out the wad of gum, hoping childishly that one of the fae stepped on it. What now? Blundering around without a plan wasn’t going to help me find the door. I pressed my back to the dirt wall and took a few deep breaths. If I was a faerie, where would I put a secret door?

The trial seemed a bit strange to me. Wouldn’t the court want to watch, as they did with the first one? How would they know whether I succeeded?

I could stand here for eons and never understand the way they thought. But I was going about this the wrong way—all I needed to do was stumble across a faerie and discover its fears. Once I had a hold of its mind, the faerie would lead me straight to the door in an attempt to survive whatever it believed was coming. The Tongue had said I couldn’t ask for help; he never said I couldn’t commandeer it. See, thinking like a faerie wasn’t so hard. I just had to be willing to exercise cruelty and resort to trickery.

Having a plan felt like being back on solid ground after hours in the water. I straightened and reached out with every sense I had, hoping to hear footsteps or voices. The passageways were eerily still. This alone was a sign that something unusual was happening at Court; normally the air was filled with pain-filled echoes or sounds that had no name. Perturbed, I rushed down the tunnel and into another, wanting this over with. The Tongue hadn’t mentioned any sort of time limit. If I didn’t find the door soon, did they intend to watch me wander the maze until I died of dehydration?

Since I was Fallen, that would take a very, very long time.

Resolve quickened my pace. I turned into new tunnels, again and again, trying to find some pattern in the torches, shades of earth, the doors. Time passed slowly and in a blur. All I had for company was my own thoughts. As the seconds moved into minutes, and the minutes into hours, the edges of fear started to creep in. This was taking too long. Could I use the bond to communicate with Collith? But what if he told the others that I was asking for help?

I swore under my breath. All right, so I wouldn’t be speaking to Collith. Where was everyone?

At long last, I heard something. I halted in the middle of the passage, hardly daring to breathe. What if I’d imagined it? What if it was an illusion of some kind? I tilted my head. Yes, there it was again. Against my better judgement, I followed the faint noises. Within moments I found their source. To the right, farther down the tunnel, was a doorway. There was no door attached to it, so shouts and clattering dishes poured from the opening. Ever cautious, I stuck to the shadows and peered in.

The smoke was so thick that it tickled the back of my throat and made my eyes sting—there seemed to be only one hole in the ceiling from which to filter the exhaust out. It was the biggest, strangest kitchen I’d ever seen, comprised of several rooms with high ceilings. There was an open hearth in the middle of everything. Worktables and chopping blocks were scattered throughout. Every surface was littered with tools. A single glance showed knives, ladles, pottery, wooden bowls, forks, and scissors. There was a giant tub along the far wall. In the farthest corner, some kind of gutted animal rested in the dirt. Next to it was a long bench made of masonry stone that held several deep containers. They looked to be lined with ceramic. Charcoal had blackened most of them. A stove, maybe?

I turned my attention to the slaves in the room. Two children turned huge joints of meat on a metal rod. A boy who looked to be twelve or thirteen swept the floor, his motions aggressive and swift. A woman was frantically stirring several pans set over the flames, throwing in a dash of spice now and then. Yet another woman was adding firewood to the base of the hearth, her mouth pinched and weary. The tension in the air was palpable, as if there was a giant clock on the wall, ticking down to some terrible ending.

As I took it all in, thin-lipped with fury, a man rushed past. He didn’t see me, as he was a bit preoccupied with the humansized pot he was carrying.

I darted a glance at the woman who had to be the head cook —she was shrieking at a young girl, whose head was bowed in shame—and hurried after him. As I fully entered the kitchen, a mouth-watering smell assailed my senses. I’d wolfed down a bowl of stew and warm bread earlier, but apparently it hadn’t been enough. My stomach rumbled as I forced myself back to the task at hand. I darted past a room full of barrels and another one glinting with wine bottles. The slaves noticed me, of course, but none of them said a word.

The man entered a pantry, of sorts, and didn’t realize he’d been followed until he finished putting the pot in a haphazard stack that extended from floor to ceiling. He turned and spotted me. His eyes widened with recognition.

“What’s your name?” I asked quickly, hoping to stop him from sounding an alarm.

He glanced toward the cook, though a wall stood between her and us. Shelves of food looked back. “Shameek,” he mumbled, shifting as though to leave. The cook’s tirade cut short and there was a cracking sound.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Fortuna.” I thrust out my hand and Shameek took it automatically. An instant later, he realized his mistake and jerked his hand back. Too late, of course—his fears coated my tongue. They tasted like wine and dirt. Faeries. The pointed-eared creatures were in his dreams and his waking thoughts. He could never escape them.

Another image slipped through. A flash of the human in front of me putting something into a drink. I frowned, wondering at this new development of my abilities, but there was no time to ponder on it. In that instant, the young girl hurried past. She was sporting a fresh cut on her lip. My sense of peril heightened; something told me I needed to avoid that cook. I leaned close to whisper in Shameek’s ear. “I know your secret. You’ve been poisoning one of the faeries.”

I didn’t think it was possible, but at my words, the man went even paler. “What do you want?” he asked past trembling lips.

Hating myself, I forced the next part out. “Take me to the door.”

“I don’t know where—”

“There’s no time for lies, Shameek. I know how they treat humans here; they barely notice you. Which makes it really easy to overhear things you shouldn’t. And you have the look of someone that’s been here for a few years.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. Once again, his brown eyes darted in the direction of the heavyset woman, who was now shrieking at the boy who’d been sweeping. Something about leaving the animal in the corner too long. “I’ll show you which passageway,” Shameek whispered. The kitchen was so loud that I almost missed it. “But I won’t go all the way to the door or they’ll know.”

Triumph blazed through me. I clamped down on it, instantly hating myself. “That’s fine. Thank you.”

Shameek didn’t grace this with a response. He edged past me, then dared to poke his head out into the open. I tensed, anticipating shouts or sharp words. The only sound that came was the chopping of a knife. A second later, Shameek drew back, gestured that I should follow him, and slipped around the corner. I hurried after him.

The head cook was apparently not a very observant creature, or she was only capable of putting her focus on one unpleasant task at a time, because she didn’t even pause as we rushed along the back wall and into the passageway.

For once, it was a relief when the darkness swallowed me.

Shameek didn’t have a moment of hesitation or uncertainty as he brought us deeper into the maze. At one point, I noticed that we both walked on light feet. Me, because it was in my very nature to creep silently, and he, because his very survival depended on it. He’d learned how to be silent because he’d had to.

A fresh surge of hatred shot through my veins, hot and thick. The fae had roamed our world for far too long, doing whatever they liked, taking whomever they pleased. I didn’t have a mind for politics, but it still seemed that Collith’s steps toward change were too slow going.

We had put a fair amount of distance between us and the kitchen, so it seemed safe to speak. “You should—” I started to whisper.

Before I could go on, the entire passage shuddered. Rivulets of dirt trickled down from the ceiling and one of them fell on Shameek’s shoulder. He jerked out of the way. Another put out a torch, which extinguished with a hiss. I spun around, my heart going into overdrive. It was already over, though; the whole thing had only lasted two seconds. I stared into the darkness, alert for any sign of movement. “What was that?”

When I looked to Shameek, he shook his head, looking just as frightened as I probably did. My instincts insisted I should learn the source of the commotion. Swallowing, I cautiously retraced our steps.

I discovered it just a few yards down. There was a huge rock in the tunnel that most definitely hadn’t been there before; it blocked the entire path. Where had it come from? I took two steps closer, my eyes on the ceiling. More torches had gone out, but there were enough left to make out some details. Yes, there was the hole, which meant it had fallen out of the ceiling. I felt a ripple of unease; was the tunnel about to collapse?

Shameek hadn’t come with me. Now worried that he’d seized the opportunity to flee, I broke into a run. My pulse slowed somewhat when I saw he was right where I’d left him.

“Guess you’re not getting back to the kitchen that way,” I said by way of explanation. But Shameek must’ve put two and two together—he didn’t ask for details. He didn’t even bother responding, actually. Without a word, he turned and plunged into shadow. Cursing, I rushed after him.

We walked for a while. Nothing interfered or disturbed our progress, though I kept waiting for something to. This passage in particular seemed longer than the rest. It went on and on, showing no signs of ending, forking, or turning. The absolute silence was unnerving. Every inch of my body was rigid; it felt like a single touch was all it would take to make me shatter. I tried to stay close to Shameek, but every time I neared enough to feel his body heat, he’d quicken his pace to put distance between us. I could hardly blame him, really. I didn’t comment, and eventually, I relied on the sound of his footsteps rather than proximity.

At long last, another noise tore through the stillness. Though I’d been half-expecting it, my stomach clenched with dread. This one came from up ahead and it was undeniably from something alive. Sort of a … rapid shuffling.

I didn’t bother asking Shameek what we should do; in unison he and I turned around to run the other way. Then, again, we froze at the same time, realizing that we couldn’t go back, of course. The cave-in had made sure of that.

Suddenly I realized what, exactly, that cave-in had been—a barricade. To keep me in a certain part of the passages. I was a mouse in a maze and they were playing with me, dropping walls into places that had been clear moments ago, enjoying the sight of my terror and confusion. It was my first instinct not to give them the satisfaction, but I kept grappling for a weapon that wasn’t there.

Shameek had pressed himself to the wall. Whatever was coming toward us must’ve caught our scent or heard the movement, because it began making noises. Guttural, urgent, and … hungry. Hearing this, Shameek let out a sound that was meant to be a hysterical laugh, maybe, but sounded more like he was struggling to breathe. “Did you think they would make it so easy?” he asked. There was a manic glow in his eyes.

The question made me wonder whether he’d been part of their plan all along—it had been strange that all the passageways were so eerily silent and the kitchen the only bright, loud place to be found. Maybe Shameek had been instructed to lead me here. My own eyes narrowed back. “Do you know what that is?” I asked sharply. Despite the barricade, we were both sliding along the wall, instinctively trying to put distance between us and the thing coming closer.

The human’s nostrils flared, as though he could smell the creature, but all my nose detected was dirt and damp. “I think it’s a wendigo,” Shameek replied. “There was a rumor that one had been shipped in last night.”

Distrust shot through me; wendigos had been amongst my mother’s list of myths and legends. Either Shameek had lost his touch with reality or he was making it up. Regardless, it meant I had no idea what was coming down that tunnel. No weapon to fight it with, either. I couldn’t count on it being like the dragon and falling susceptible to my power. “Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered to myself. We could hide in one of the many rooms, but I didn’t know what senses this thing used to hunt. What if it found us within seconds, and we found ourselves backed into a corner?

You’re already in a corner, reason reminded me. Right. I opened my mouth to tell Shameek the plan.

Before my brain was able to comprehend what was happening, there was a blur of movement. Shameek started screaming. He was on the ground somehow, and something writhed on top of him. The air was ripe with its smell now, a familiar and putrid scent. There weren’t enough torches to truly make out its details, but I saw the thing’s head jerk forward, over and over again. Its teeth clacked. Shameek was keeping it at bay, just barely, and he hadn’t stopped filling the tunnel with his shrill sounds of terror.

For a black, terrible moment, I thought about running. Using the fact that the wendigo was distracted and I’d surely get a head start in getting far, far away from here. Fortuna Sworn, that’s not who you are, I could practically hear Dad saying sternly, managing to shame me even after death.

But he was right.

I resisted the moronic instinct to throw myself at the wendigo—anything to get it off Shameek—and hesitated a few precious seconds to take in every detail around us. The rocks, fuck yes, the rocks, I thought, rushing forward. I snatched up the first one my hand found and spun around just in time for the wendigo to slam into me. The blow was so painful that, for an instant, I couldn’t breathe. Then my back hit the pile of rocks, and I forgot all about needing to breathe as an even bigger pain ricocheted through me.

The wendigo wasn’t fazed, not for a second. It reached for my throat, my face, doing everything it could to rip into me and take its first bite. We tumbled to the ground. Just as Shameek had, I planted my hand against whatever part of it I could get a secure hold on—which turned out to be the upper half of its face—to keep it away. My arm shook. Meanwhile, the other arm rose. Not enough force, I thought dimly. Somehow I found the strength to draw the rock back, putting more distance between that unforgiving surface and the wendigo’s skull

Then I brought it down.

The wendigo must’ve been older or more fragile than it looked; the bone cracked and broke like a dead stick. Those grappling stumps for fingers went still. I didn’t have enough left in me to heave the body to the side and free myself. The wendigo’s vacant eyes drew nearer to mine as I slowly, slowly weakened.

Suddenly the weight lifted. A moment later, the wendigo was tossed to the side, and it made a dull sound as it hit the dirt. Shameek’s face swam into view. The sight of him surprised me; I’d assumed he was dead or already in another part of the maze. “Thanks,” I rasped. He gave a single nod, his lips pursed, his eyes dark. A steady stream of blood ran down his temple. He extended his hand, which I took without hesitation, and he hauled me up.

Pain whispered through the parts of me that had landed on rock. I closed my eyes and swayed. Shameek didn’t say a word, and after a few seconds, the pain ebbed to something bearable. I focused on the human again. In that moment, I realized that I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for Shameek. After all, I’d only had the chance to get the rock while the wendigo was busy trying to eat him. I owed a debt, however much I loathed to admit it.

The moment I was able to, I took a few steps back, since I’d seen too many horror movies in which the thing that was supposed to be dead jolted awake for a final attack. Shameek and I both stared down at the wendigo, if that’s really what it was. The creature lay on its back, and for the first time, I got a good look at its features. Its smooth, hairless skin was milky white. The hands and mouth were covered in what looked like old blood. The rest of its body was so thin that the creature shouldn’t have been alive—maybe it hadn’t been. All it wore for clothing was a pair of ragged, green shorts. There were slits in place of where nostrils should’ve been, and its gaping mouth was crowded with sharp, yellowed teeth. The wendigo’s white eyes, which stared upward, still blazed with malice.

“How many more are there?” I asked, my imagination filling the tunnels with dozens of these horrific monsters.

Shameek’s breathing quickened. “What makes you think there are more?”

“I think I fought one of these things already. My first night here, in the woods.”

“Well, better the wendigos than them. They know I helped you now.” Shameek cast a despairing, terrified glance around us. Dirt and torches stared back. I was about to ask him how they’d seen when he added, “I thought if we moved fast enough, the cameras wouldn’t be able to catch my face.”

Oh. Now that comment I’d overheard about a viewing room made more sense. My voice was barely a whisper as I asked, “Will you run, then? When we reach the door?”

It had been almost exactly what I’d started to tell him before, when we were interrupted by the cave-in. You should keep going when we get to the surface. “If I don’t, I’m dead,” Shameek answered flatly. He turned away from the wendigo and began walking again. “They’ll kill me.”

However sympathetic I was to his plight, I was ready for this trial to be over. I didn’t respond to his dismal comments, and this time, I stayed alongside him. My pace forced him to take bigger and swifter steps. The eternal passage finally ended at a crossroads, of sorts. The one directly in front of us slanted upwards. I didn’t need Shameek to tell me it was the right choice; without waiting for him to give an indication, I rushed forward. A few more minutes went by, tense and wordless. Our shoes made the ground crunch. “It shouldn’t be much farther,” Shameek finally muttered. “This is where they’re always coming and going from.”

Just as he finished speaking, a ring of light appeared. The breath caught in my throat and something in my chest fluttered as I realized what it was—daylight. But which place did it open to?

What was it Collith had said that first night? The trick is to expect more.

Home, home, home, I thought in time to the beating of my heart. “I bet your family will be ecstatic to see you,” I said, trying not to leave Shameek behind in my eagerness. There was nothing standing in the way this time. No dragons, or wendigos, or copper-haired sadists. At the thought, I almost broke into a run.

“I won’t get to see them. I’m going back,” Shameek answered. Like before, he spoke these words without any outward sign of emotion. As though something inside his brain had fried and now lay blackened. And then he stopped, staring at the light as though it were his destruction instead of his salvation.

I frowned and reluctantly stopped, too. I faced him in the wide tunnel. “What? Why? You said they’d kill you.”

Shameek didn’t look at me; he kept his face turned toward that distant glow. “I wouldn’t survive long out there, either. There are some fae who entertain themselves by hunting. Not animals, of course. They prefer more … intelligent game. Those are the ones that would come for me.”

“So you’re just going to give up?” I demanded.

“If I beg for forgiveness, they might be lenient. A beating or two. Sometimes that’s more entertaining than outright killing us.”

The trial wasn’t over yet. All I had to do was get to that door. Torn, I looked from Shameek to the outside world. “I’ll be right back,” I snapped, frustrated by his cowardice and my own shortcomings. Damon would’ve befriended Shameek by now and been able to convince him to escape. “Don’t you dare leave. We need to talk about this.”

The human said nothing. I waited a moment more, hoping for some kind of response. When he wouldn’t meet my gaze, I growled and swung away. With every step, I felt hope push out the fear. One step closer to fresh air. One step closer to Damon’s freedom. One step closer to ending the Unseelie Court’s tyranny. I caught a flash of green. Trees. God, I hadn’t realized how much I missed trees.

A few feet away from the door, I sensed movement behind me. Shameek, I thought with relief. “Did you change your—”

Pain shot through me. Shocked, I stumbled back and hit the jagged wall. Shameek came with me, failing to extract the knife he’d embedded in my shoulder. My instincts took over; Father’s lessons had become part of every limb and reaction. Using Shameek’s proximity against him, I grabbed his shoulders and shoved backwards, sweeping my leg around and behind his ankles at the same time. He hit the earth without any recovery or resistance. I braced myself, expecting him to come at me again, but the human just curled into a ball.

“You had a knife this entire time?” I rasped.

Shameek’s stoic mask was long gone. He pressed his wet face into the dirt and sobbed. “I j-just d-d-didn’t want to b-be afraid a-a-anymore,” I heard him say between heaves.

Understanding slammed home. My heart. He’d been after my heart.

I probably should’ve felt terror or outrage. Instead, compassion filled the very thing he’d been trying to steal. I knew what it was to hate the fear living in your head. I remembered how it felt to dread falling asleep at night, worrying about whatever dreams awaited you. Shameek didn’t need another enemy—he needed help. For now, though, I needed to finish this damn trial. I turned my attention to the knife jutting from my body. I’d never been stabbed before, but I’d watched enough TV to learn that it probably wasn’t a good idea to pull it out. God, it hurt.

“Like I said before. You should take your chance now and go back to your family. If not, I’ll be right back. Maybe I can pull some strings with the fae.” I gritted my teeth and kept walking toward the ring of light. Fingers clamped around my ankle.

I turned back. Shameek was on his stomach, his tear-stained face twisted with desperation, blood, and dust. “Kill me,” he begged. “You owe a debt.”

Clever human. He must’ve seen something in my expression earlier, when I’d realized that he had saved my life.

“I’m sorry,” I said. There was no delay in my answer; taking human life was one sin I wasn’t willing to bear. Oliver was already keeping so much at bay as I slept. I avoided Shameek’s pleading gaze and pulled free. He sank to the ground, his sobs echoing up and down the earthen corridor. They followed me all the way out the door.

All thoughts of Shameek, wendigos, faeries, and stab wounds left my mind.

Pale sunlight washed over me. It was gently warm, like that brief and perfect time when your bedsheets started to become accustomed to your body heat. It felt as though I’d been underground for a year. I lifted my face towards the sky. My nostrils flared as I inhaled the scents of leaves and frost. Everything was serene and inviting. Birdsong flitted through the air. Standing here, it was all-too easy to believe the horrors beneath my feet didn’t exist.

“Congratulations, Nightmare. You’ve passed the second test.”

My heart reared. I whirled, knowing that if the owner of that voice wanted me dead, I would be. I’d let my guard down. I’d been wholly unprepared. The Tongue was right behind me, his expression that same grave mask. We had stood this close before, but never in the light of day. For the first time, I was able to make out the big pores in his skin. The blackheads on his nose. The lines in his forehead. It seemed there was a price for his abilities—the Tongue was aging. I tucked the information away. You never knew what might come in handy later.

I stared at him for a moment longer, then looked toward the mountains again. Home was so close. It would be easy to touch this faerie, make him mewling and helpless, and run.

The heavyset faerie just stood there and watched me. There was no doubt in my mind that he knew what I was thinking. Maybe this was a test, too. Because, without a word, he turned around and walked back into the darkness. The jangling of his beads faded away. I cast a final, wistful glance toward the mountains.

Then I followed him back into the earth.