Kill the beast.
And don’t disappoint me this time….
My mother’s words play in my head in time to the drumming hoofbeats of my gelding.
It’s a song that’s been repeating itself for years, though the verses often change depending on her latest critique. Disappointing my mother seems to be my greatest ability these days.
Golden leaves drip from the trees in a steady tumble as autumn starts its slow, seductive slide into winter. I ease Jaeger to a halt, and he snorts, no doubt catching scent of the rank musk I too can smell.
“I know, boy.” I pat his neck as I slip from the saddle, landing lightly on the leaf mulch. Smells like a troll’s breath the morning after a feast of decayed corpse.
Late afternoon sunlight ripples over the ground, the wind whispering through silent trees. It feels like the forest itself is holding its breath.
Watching.
Waiting.
Drawing my sword, I tie Jaeger to a tree and then creep toward the ruins.
There are eyes upon me.
I can feel them.
“That’s right, you ugly bastard. I’m here.”
The trail of blood leads directly toward the thorny tangle ahead. Where it fell, the leaves have shriveled into brittle shreds, as if the blood itself is tainted.
The news came from the borders three days ago. An empty hamlet discovered on the edges of Vervain Forest, the woodcutters within vanished. Instead, there’d been claw marks in the door and a bloodied fingernail on the floor inside, as if someone had been dragged out by the ankles.
Other empty cabins were slowly discovered. Tales of a beast stalking the edges of Vervain and whispers of hunters not returning from relatively easy hunts began to grow in strength. Chickens slaughtered in their coops over the summer months, though nobody had mentioned it until it was too late.
It always starts with the chickens.
Banes are big, ugly brutes, curse-twisted into half-animal, half-human shapes. It takes a powerful witch or spell to create them; and to break the curse is both dangerous and difficult. True love’s kiss. Eating the heart of the witch. Sometimes another spell will gift them with the ability to remain a man during the day and a beast at night, but magic often sloughs off them.
Which leaves me with one option.
The cold kiss of iron, straight through the heart.
It’s my first bane hunt.
Preferably not my last.
“Let’s make this nice and easy,” I mutter as I slip through the forest with murder—or mercy—on my mind.
Thorns encircle the ruins, some of them bearing spikes as long as my forearm. Poison drips from their tips; they call this particular bramble Sorrow’s Tears. It sprang from the ground the night the King of the Sorrows was slaughtered by his new Unseelie queen. Where his people wept, the brambles grew. It’s deadly to the Unseelie and excruciating to my kind, though it won’t kill us.
How, in Maia’s name, am I going to get inside the ruins?
I can hear the snuffling of the bane in the distance. No doubt it made its lair deep inside where it will be safe from predators. Which means there must be a way in. I just have to find it.
Skirting the brambles, I hold my sword low. Demi-fey peer at me from the shadows, their golden eyes vicious and unblinking. Sweat drips down my spine. I’m practically jumping at shadows, my skin prickling at the faint whisper of claws on stone.
“You can do this,” I tell myself quietly.
I have to do this. I have to slay the beast at my mother’s bequest or suffer her consequences—as well as her disfavor.
After all, if it tears my head from my shoulders, then at least I won’t have to hear about it for the next ten years.
Or worse.
Girding myself, I follow the bane’s blood trail to an overgrown arch. Shadows loom beneath it, and I don’t know where it leads, but it’s clearly the only way into the castle.
This was once the ancient stronghold of my kingdom, many years before my mother took power. The king who ruled wore a gauntlet coated with pure iron. A literal iron fist. Though the main tower’s half-shattered, with stones strewn about it like rumpled skirts, it wouldn’t surprise me if the tower once bore a certain phallic resemblance.
My mother overthrew him nearly a thousand years ago.
Nobody even remembers his name—she had it wiped from public record, and no one dared speak it upon pain of death. The years passed, and he faded from memory, crushed to dust just like this keep. Now only the forest remembers him, slowly swallowing what remains of his grandeur.
I wonder what he did to her to earn such a fate, such enmity. My mother is petty and vicious, but to ensure even history forgot him speaks of an enemy she saved her most vengeful acts for.
“This way, Princess!” a voice cries through the ruins. “I can see its tracks!”
I freeze.
Hooves echo on half-buried cobblestones, and then a glint of gold shines through the brambles as a stunning young woman canters into view. Her blonde hair is knotted into tight braids that circle her head like a coronet. A trio of Seelie hunters clad in hard leathers are at her heels.
Son of a dryad.
The Crown Princess Andraste. Strong. Dangerous. Powerful.
She looks the epitome of a warrior, with a battle-hardened leather corset protecting her slim waist and boots that cling to her calves. A lush dark green cloak wraps around her shoulders, but it’s the bow at her back and the knives tucked into her boots that make her dangerous.
Andraste doesn’t miss. She doesn’t fail.
I might have once called her sister, though it’s been so long since we’ve been close enough for such a word. It’s not encouraged anymore.
After all, in my mother’s kingdom, there is only one ruler, only one heir.
And I’m not the favored child.
I have to kill the bane first.
Darting up the spiral staircase of the tower, I slip my knife from its sheath so I’m well armed. Blood is spattered on the steps, and it will be only a matter of time before Andraste follows me. I can’t afford to rush this and make a mistake, but I cannot afford to lose the chance.
My mother granted the task to the both of us, and I know it’s another one of her little tests.
Thighs burning, I make it to the highest level, my steps slowing.
Wounded grunts and soft whispering sounds echo from within the chamber at the top. I dart toward the door, pressing my back to the stone wall beside it and softening my breath. A glance shows the turret room inside, dust and dead leaves covering the floor. In the middle of the room is an enormous, twisted mass of fur and sinew.
It looks like a wolf and a lion had a baby.
Or no, not quite.
There are enormous teeth that don’t belong to either animal, and claws that are two inches long. It moves like a man, though its spine is curved like a cat’s, and it loped along on all fours when we were hunting it.
Blood drips from the wound on its flank where my arrow sank between its ribs, and it licks the ravaged wound, wincing a little. The broken shaft of the arrow’s been snapped off, and the creature tries to bite at it, as if attempting to remove it.
The movement’s so familiar that my fingers curl around the knife. The sound it made when my arrow sank into soft gray fur lingers in my memory. A cry. It sounded like a man’s pained cry.
No mercy for the monsters, sneers my mother’s voice.
But is it a monster?
It was fae once, whispers my conscience.
Aye, and now it’s terrorizing local villages.
Year by year, it will lose itself to the curse, until all it craves is blood. All it will hunger for is flesh. There’s no turning back. If the curse hasn’t been broken yet, then I doubt it ever truly will be.
This is mercy.
Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.
My fingers flex around the knife as I creep closer, picking my way between dead leaves.
The creature freezes.
So do I.
“Schmell you,” it whispers, the sound like the skittering of dead leaves. “Coming to finish job.” The word comes from an inhuman mouth, but it freezes me right to the core.
Banes are violent, magic-twisted beasts. There’s no reasoning with them. No means to save them or break the curse. All you can do is put them out of their misery and stop them before they slaughter entire villages.
But this one is fae enough still to speak.
The slight hesitation almost costs me.
The bane lunges toward me, muscle rippling beneath its fur. I drive to the side, blade swinging up. Its claws lash out, smashing my sword to the side. The weight of it slams into me, and then I’m going down. Only pure luck—or years and years of practice with my mother’s swordmaster—mean that my knife drives into its side.
Stupid. So stupid.
As my back slams into the stone floor, I kick my heels up, driving it over the top of me. Lines of heat sear my thigh. Its claws glance off me with the momentum, but if I hadn’t reacted so quickly, they’d be buried in my gut.
Rolling ungracefully to my knees, I scramble for my sword. I have no idea where the knife went. Probably still in its flank.
The bane lashes out, claws swiping my boots from under me. I hit the floor, my hand closing over the hilt as I flip over. Like a turtle on its back, I shove the sword between us, scrambling back across the floor until my back hits the wall.
The beast stretches its spine, eyes glowing an amber gold in the dying afternoon light that pours through the open arch window.
It laughs, a faint, wheezing sound, as it prowls back and forth. “In trouvle now, little fae.”
It’s between the door and me, and even though it’s bleeding heavily, it’s still twice my size. And I’m down a weapon.
Curse it.
I clamber to my feet, forcing my voice full of a false bravado I don’t feel. If in doubt… bluff. “I don’t know. It seems I swapped the knife for a star-forged sword. I’d say I just traded up.”
It snarls and swipes the air threateningly in a mine-is-bigger-than-yours kind of way.
Okay, fine. “Yes, I know. My, what big claws you have….”
One day my mouth is going to get me in trouble.
“Come closer and see dem,” it hisses.
I lunge forward, sword whining as it cuts through the air. Right into the sunlight that streams through the arched window, which blinds me for half a second. The bane avoids the blow, but instead of lashing out and taking advantage of my blunder, it hesitates.
“Prinshess….”
What? My sword hovers in the air. “Do you know who I am?”
Its lip curls as it backs away. “Ish-vien.”
Close enough. I stare at it in horror. There’s only one way it could recognize me by sight. “Who are you?”
“I am loyal, my princhess. I am Evernight,” it whispers, holding up one paw, claws curled inward. “Pleashe. Pleashe don’t hurt me.”
Evernight?
The Kingdom of Evernight is the enemy. Evernight and Thorns have been at war for centuries. How would it know me?
When I was a little girl, I remember playing games of Strategy across from my mother. Each game was a lesson, and if I played well, I would not be punished. It made me wary, thoughtful, hesitant…. And Mother noticed. Trust your instincts, Mother would say, eyes alight upon me. Instinct is the cold kiss of warning that something is wrong, but hesitation is a death knell.
And right now, mine are blaring.
It knows my face. My name. And I swear I’ve never come across an envoy from the Kingdom of Evernight. Mother will barely let us speak its name, let alone encourage mingling.
I lower the sword. “How do you know who I am?”
Movement shifts behind it.
“Don’t move,” says Andraste, stepping inside the room with her bow drawn.
The bane hisses, rising onto two feet, its hackles lifting. Amber fury rolls across its eyes, driving away any last vestiges of its humanity. All that’s left is rage.
“Don’t kill it!” I have to know who it was.
“Did you hit your head? That’s what we’re here to do.”
“Something’s wrong.” I don’t take my eyes off the beast. “How does it know who I am?”
Andraste steps to the side, her bow nocked, the string tight with tension. “Step back, Iskvien.”
Before I can even move, the bane roars and rams me. My sword lands with a clatter as I slam onto the stone floor, the beast leaping over me.
An arrow flashes, and it screams.
Then it’s upon my sister, driving her into the wall. Andraste whirls beneath its lashing claws, swirling her cloak in a flourish that traps them. She ducks free of the fabric, draws the knife from her right boot, and lunges forward.
It should have been an easy kill, but the beast shoves away from the wall and throws her off-balance.
She staggers back, boots clipping against my side and sending her sprawling. We’re both down, scrambling to get out of the way as the enraged monster roars and launches itself toward us.
A hand shoves me in the back as I stagger to my feet, knocking me clear. Claws rake down my arm, spilling blood, but it’s my sister who grunts as she barely deflects a killing blow. My sister who pushed me aside.
Curse her. She wants to steal the glory of this kill, but I need to know how the beast knows who I am.
If it doesn’t kill us first.
There’s no hint of those fae eyes in its monstrous face. Not anymore. Only rage and fury and pain. The beast in ascendancy.
I grab Andraste’s fallen cloak and throw it over the bane’s head. Andraste drives her knife between its ribs just as I kick the back of its knee. For one shining, precious moment, we’re moving in unison. A deadly, unstoppable force to be reckoned with.
“Don’t kill it!”
Her eyes flicker to mine, and then she slashes through its hamstring. The bane screams. Her knife flashes, catching the last dying rays of sunlight that glint through the arch, and then it’s burying itself in the bane’s throat.
“No!”
Blood gurgles from the stab wound. The bane’s roar chokes off.
She stabs it again, right in the kidneys.
Those amber eyes lock upon me, breath wheezing from its lungs as it goes to its knees. “Prinshess….”
And then the light in those eyes fades, and the beast hits the floor.
My sister turns to me, her eyes alight with fury as she wipes the blade on her thigh. “What in Maia’s name were you thinking? Were you trying to get yourself killed?”
Light shimmers around the bane, as though the curse isn’t quite done with him. Its fur shrinks, claws sinking back into flesh and becoming fingers right before my eyes.
When the light fades, there’s a fae male on the floor, naked and bloody. Scratches mar his back and buttocks, and his blond hair is long and ragged. I can’t stop myself from squatting beside him, trying to avoid the growing pool of blood.
I don’t know his face.
I would swear I’ve never seen him before.
But he’s seen me.
Or he knows what I look like, which sends a shiver down my spine. Catching the attention of the vicious prince who rules Evernight is never a wise idea.
There’s a chain around his throat, and I slide my hand along its length, revealing a golden amulet shaped in a wolf’s snarling head.
“Leave it,” Andraste says, sliding her dagger back in her boot.
“It knew me,” I insist, slipping the amulet free. I don’t know why, but I feel the urge to keep it.
“It was Evernight.”
“Precisely the problem,” I snap, fetching my sword and pocketing the amulet. Won’t Mother be thrilled with her now. “A pity you’re not going to get a nice fur throw for your floor.”
“Haven’t you learned anything, Iskvien?” My sister says coldly. “We do not treat with the enemy. And we show the beasts no mercy. Both are only likely to get you killed.”
“And we wouldn’t want that.” I slide my sword home with a steely rasp. “Or do we?”
Andraste startles, looking me in the eye for a long moment. “I don’t want you dead,” she says after a long moment.
Only bowing at her feet.
“There can be only one.” One queen. One heir. It’s how the Kingdom of Asturia operates. And there are whispers our mother, the queen, is fading, though I’ve seen no sign of it myself. “Let’s not pretend I wouldn’t be a threat to you if you left me alive.” Every scheming courtier in the castle would see me as an opportunity to climb the ladder at court. “Let’s not pretend I’m stupid enough to think you wouldn’t. You should have waited. You should have let the bane have me.”
“Vi.” She snags my wrist as I turn to go.
I arch a brow, waiting for her to protest that it’s not like that at all. That we’re sisters, not a threat to each other. But Mother has done her job far too well.
“I am either Mother’s heir or I am dead,” I say quietly. “I don’t even want the throne. I just want to stay alive. And so do you.”
“There are other options.”
“Oh, really? I would love to hear your proposition.”
Her lips press thinly together.
“Marriage into another kingdom? You know we’d both be merely pawns. And Mother’s done too good a job in alienating every other royal court. Besides, I’d prefer to choose my own husband rather than become some petty prince’s little plaything.”
None of the royal options are anything short of skin-crawling. The fae can be merciless and malicious. Royals never sit on an easy throne, and the truth is, no innocent ever holds a position of power in this world.
Not for long anyway.
Those who rule kingdoms are rarely kind.
“Maybe marriage doesn’t have to be a death sentence,” she says slowly.
“And maybe that bane there didn’t intend to kill either of us. Maybe it was trying to give me a hug.”
Andraste slowly lets me go. “We’re not enemies, Vi. I would protect you.”
She doesn’t understand. She never will. She’s always been Mother’s favorite. The one who sits in on council meetings. The one who receives gifts from visiting nobles, as if they already consider her to be Mother’s heir.
The one who can wield her own magic, when mine dies on my fingertips in a shower of sparks.
“I wish that was the truth,” I murmur. I miss my sister. But neither of us are children anymore, and I can’t afford to forget that. “And I’d stay to help you lug your trophy home, but I think I’d best get a head start before night falls. Got to watch my back out there.”