Rane faced her, and the others stepped away, giving them enough room to move. She hadn’t told anyone Rane’s secret. He owed her… Or he could kill her now, and then she would never be able to tell anyone.
She studied his face, but he looked as if he didn’t have any worries. He obviously did not see her as a threat. She was human; he was Fata. She could barely wield a dagger, while he had been trained to use the weapon since he was a child.
Zoey did not dare glance at Dagan, for getting her into this mess, but knew he was standing under a big tree with the rest of them. If Zoey looked at him, she would be distracted, and give Rane the perfect opportunity to strike. The two of them circled each other, crossing one leg over the other as they did so.
“Come on,” Rane said.
She took the bait and slashed at him, but he caught her wrist and twisted. She cried out and let him force her to her knees, where he kicked her in the chest. She fell backward, humiliated. Rane took a few steps backward so that she could get up again.
Why did they want her to fight? Did they enjoy humiliating her? Did they want to remind her how weak she was? Zoey’s anger flared. If Rane knocked her down seven times, she would get up eight times.
She slashed toward Rane again and missed entirely. He ducked, and she tried to kick him, but that failed, too. He was dancing around her like a ballerina. He was a stupid, pathetic dancer.
Zoey hit him.
Her fist collided with his nose, and moments later, blood spurted from it. Rane stepped backward and touched his face as his blood dripped into his mouth and down his chin. Zoey swallowed hard as she realized he was done holding back. This was it. She was going to lose.
Then Caynin cried out, causing both to look in his direction. He was on his knees, and his head was hanging. They forgot about their duel and rushed over to him. Zoey’s heart rushed and her brows pinched together.
“What’s wrong?” Zoey asked and then she saw the iron cuffs around his wrists. They were burning his flesh, making it sizzle. The handcuffs were connected to chains that were tied to the ground and around the tree. There was no way Caynin could break free. Iron nails had been hammered into his body as if he were a wooden log, and there was so much blood. How had this happened? One moment they had been dueling and the next—
“Caynin!” Zoey cried out and sank to her knees.
“Who did this to you? How?” Rane brought his hand close enough to the iron to feel the heat. He quickly accepted he was powerless and did not touch it. He was relying on Zoey to help, and she didn’t hesitate to dig her nails into Caynin’s flesh and pull out the iron. It was wet and squishy, and every time she did it, Caynin flinched from the pain. How was he not crying?
He was almost too exhausted to speak. He managed the words: “It’s a trap.”
At that moment, an iron net fell out of the tree – onto her and Rane. It had big, heavy iron balls on its edges that kept it anchored to the ground. Rane cried out, and she could smell his flesh burn. Zoey kicked against the trap, but it did not help. She looked toward Caynin, as he was the leader, but his head was hanging as if he had given up. She had never seen him like this before.
Rane was frantic, hissing and kicking and snarling as the iron burnt him. He kicked her, too, accidently, and she cried out in pain.
Three men stood around the trap. Slaerie.
“Look what we caught,” one man said. “One of them and one of us.”
Us. They saw Zoey as one of them because she was human. He brutally slammed the iron spear he held down, right through Rane’s thigh, impaling him. Rane cried out and touched the iron spear, but his hands burned, forcing him to let go.
Zoey didn’t have time to think where they had come from, how they had caught Caynin, or what had happened to the other faeries. The men lifted the net, and one of them grabbed Zoey’s arm and dragged her out from under it. She let him pull her to her feet but did not let go of her dagger.
“It’s okay, miss,” he said. “We have caught the monsters now.”
“No need to worry,” the other added.
“And there is no need for that weapon,” the third said.
The third man was the one who had used his spear against Rane. He stepped forward with his hand outstretched, so that he could take the dagger from Zoey. These men expected her to co-operate. Why wouldn’t she? They were the same species, and they had just saved her life.
Zoey had a choice to make: humans or faeries?
Caynin’s eyes were closed. If it were not for the slow rise and fall of his chest, she would have feared him dead. Rane was whimpering from the pain, but still clutching his dagger. He would fight until he was dead, for his prince, for his home.
Caynin had only ever been good to her, and it would be wrong to betray them. They were friends, after all. She was not fond of Rane but didn’t want to see him brutally murdered.
But what could she do to help them against three, well-trained Slaerie men? Caynin had taught her how to fight, and she was no match for the faeries, but would she be able to beat not one, but three, humans?
“Come on girl.” The man still held out his hand.
Zoey dropped her hand, still clutching the dagger, to her side and approached him. He smiled, satisfied, as she lifted the dagger. But instead of giving it to him she slammed it into his outstretched hand. He cried out as she retracted the dagger, blood spraying. Quickly, she yanked the net off Rane, finding it much lighter than expected. She reached for the spear but was unable to because one of the men slammed his body into her. She fell to the ground, with him on top. She had lost her grip on her dagger and only had her hands as weapons. The man wrapped his hands around her throat and started squeezing. She desperately tried to pull his hands away but could not. She tried to breathe, but it was impossible. Her dagger was nearby, she reached for it, and the tip of her finger brushed against the hilt.
Her vision was going dark.
Somewhere deep inside of her, Zoey found the will to live. She reached out and wrapped her hands around the man’s head and sank her thumbs into his eyes. He released his grip, and she gasped for breath. Zoey shoved him off and reached for her dagger. He grabbed her ankle and yanked her back, but she had her weapon. She twisted and plunged it into his stomach. His mouth opened in a wide ‘O’, and she yanked the dagger free. He fell sideways, off her in a big heap. He did not move. She had killed him.
There was no time to think about what she had done because the other two men were still trying to kill her. The one had a disadvantage because of his hand, but he was not going to let that stop him from fighting. He and his friend both had swords now. Where had they got the swords?
This was not making sense.
She had a dagger which was no match for their weapons, but then again, she and Caynin had trained with daggers, and he had taught her how to throw one. She spun around and threw the dagger toward the man with the uninjured hands. The dagger came to a stop, embedded in his forehead.
Before she had time to retrieve the dagger, his friend rushed her, swinging his sword like an unskilled madman. She ducked and instead used her fists. Her first punch collided with his jaw, and it no doubt hurt her as much as it hurt him.
She had struck his right hand with the dagger earlier, thus he held his sword in his left. From his poor fighting skills, she guessed he had never fought left-handed before. She kicked his wrist, and he lost the sword. Then he struck her, and the force of his blow knocked her to the ground. He tried to force himself on top of her to hit her, but she twisted away.
“Zoey!” Rane tossed his dagger to her. She caught it and immediately rammed the blade into the man’s chest. Blood spouted from his mouth, and as he fell over, Zoey held the blade. Slowly, she got to her feet and looked at what she had done. Single handedly, she had murdered three men. She was a killer.
When she had seen her first corpse, Nyla, she had been horrified. When she had seen her second, Delia, she had felt sick. But now she was shaking from adrenaline and felt no remorse. They had tried to harm her friends, and she had protected them.
Caynin’s body was limp, and Rane looked around as if he could not believe what he was seeing. None of them spoke. Zoey dropped the dagger and went to Rane first – intending to pull out the spear.
“Leave him,” Dagan said, unexpectedly.
“Where did you come from?” Zoey asked.
Behind him were Flint and Tarragon.
Dagan said, “More Slaerie are on their way. There is no point in trying to save Rane or Caynin – we don’t have time.”
Zoey looked at Rane. He did not beg her to stay, nor had she expected him to. He was so proud and couldn’t admit when he needed help.
“Come on, Zoey,” Dagan said. “If we stay, we will die.”
This was the second choice she had to make: Save her friends or save herself.
She looked at Dagan. “Then go, but I’m not leaving them.”
She went over to Rane and pulled the spear from his leg. Had he been human, this would have killed him. But as a Fata, his body could heal, even wounds inflicted by iron – although they took significantly longer.
When she looked toward Caynin, he was gone. Then she heard Fata applauding and turned around to see Flint, Dagan, Tarragon, and a completely uninjured Caynin. Rane was sitting on the ground, but there was no trace of the spear wound. The dead bodies had disappeared, too.
“Congratulations,” Dagan said. “You just passed the second trial.”