Choking. Choking on magic. It’s pounding behind my forehead, tensing up my muscles, squeezing my insides.
I wake with a scream, the sound echoing down the cell block. Somewhere in the distance a guard growls out a warning.
I sit up, panting, placing a sweaty hand to the column of my throat.
Just a dream. The stifling darkness, the corrupted magic, Karnon …
Only, it isn’t, I realize as I finally catch my breath. I can still feel his viselike grip on me, his lips on my mouth, the insidious darkness that seeped into my veins.
My face is coated in sweat, and my stomach is roiling—
I barely make it to the toilet in time to vomit. I spend the next several hours like this—either shivering on my pallet, or purging my stomach of every last ounce of its contents.
At some point, the guards slide a meal through a hatch at the base of the barred wall. The food sits untouched at the edge of my cell.
Eventually, the sickness dissipates. Not completely, but enough to function. Stomach growling, I drag myself out of bed, towards the tin bowl. One glance at the gruel and I decide going hungry is better than spending several more hours with my head in a prison toilet.
I lean my sweaty forehead against the bars and stare out of my cell just as a guard approaches.
I eye him as he passes, noticing the lion tail that swishes behind him.
Do all of Fauna’s fairies share aspects with beasts?
The guard slows, flashing me a cold look. “Don’t stare at me, slave.”
I’m so fucking sick of this world already.
“Nice tail, asshole,” I mutter.
That stops him in his tracks, and I’m just enough of an idiot to smirk at the fact that I got under his skin.
He slams his gloved palms against the bars. “Consider yourself lucky that the king wants to put his dick anywhere near you,” he growls.
My smile grows, turning mean. Then I chuck my bowl at the bars, the gruel splashing against his face. “Fuck you, pig.”
I never would’ve guessed beforehand, but I don’t make a very good prisoner.
For one second, the guard does nothing, his face shocked. And then he lets out a lion’s roar, rushing at the bars.
I spin to my feet, ignoring a wave of dizziness that rushes through me, just as he makes a grab for me. His hand closes on nothing but air.
“You filthy, vile slave!” he bellows. “I could kill you right now! Right where you stand!”
Light ripples across my skin as my siren surfaces.
“Could you kill me?” I say, my musical voice taunting. “Why don’t you come in and find out?”
He roars again. Because obviously he can’t lay a finger on me. Not the one bargaining chip Karnon believes he has over Des.
“Or are you scared?” I lean against one of the stone walls. “The lion who’s scared of a little woman.”
He snarls, banging against the bars until another soldier—one with horse ears—pulls him away, flashing me a glare that’s supposed to scare me. But nothing is more frightening than the fate that already awaits me.
I watch them walk away, glad for once that my siren fears nothing and no one. Animals can scent that kind of thing, and that’s what these guards are—part animal. Not so different from Eli when it comes down to it.
I slide down the wall, leaning my head back against it. I’m exhausted, and it’s only been what? A day?
This place breaks us fast.
“Psst, human,” a female voice calls from the cell next to mine once the guards’ voices have disappeared, “are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I call back weakly. My skin’s stopped shining, and all of the strength that comes with the siren has fled, leaving me exhausted.
“That was brave, what you did there. Rash—stupid even—but also brave.”
I manage a laugh. I don’t know much about fae, but rolling an insult into a compliment seems like something they would do.
I lean my head back against the wall. “What’s your name?” I ask her.
“Aetherial,” she says. “Yours?”
“Callypso.”
“You’re new here, huh?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I sigh out, my eyes moving to those tally marks.
“How many times have you met the Fauna King?” she asks after a beat of silence.
Apparently I wasn’t the only one that got special visits with him. I’d figured as much.
“Just once.”
“Oh, fun’s only beginning for you,” she says.
That makes me crack a smile. My fellow inmates are fae warriors. These women are the toughest of the tough. Somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten that. I’d only associated them with the sleeping women trapped inside those glass coffins. I hadn’t thought that they might’ve fought their fate every bit as much as I was planning to. But right now, hearing Aetherial make light of our terrible situation, I remember.
“How many times have you met him?” I ask.
“Four,” she says. “I’ve lost movement in my arms and legs. He takes out those first. Doesn’t want his women to be difficult.”
“That’s what that kiss was?” I say, surprised. That, after all, was the only time Karnon forced his magic on me. “A way to immobilize us?” I wiggle my fingers and toes as I speak. I haven’t lost any use of my limbs.
“Amongst other things,” she says darkly.
A shiver races down my spine. “What does that mean?” I ask.
She pauses. “Tell me you don’t feel it—that sickness making itself at home in your bones.”
I did when I woke, but after puking my guts up, the sensation went away. Now I just feel weak. Incredibly weak.
“And then of course, there’s the whole matter of us getting pregnant,” she adds. “You know about that?”
“I do. Sorry to ruin the surprise,” I say. “I’m still holding out hope that immaculate conception is involved in that whole process,” I add, not really joking.
“Immaculate conception?” Aetherial repeats, amused. “Now that would be something. All of us prisoners just magically getting knocked up.” She chuckles to herself. “I like you, human,” she says.
“I’m a siren.” I’m not sure why I make the clarification. Perhaps so that I don’t seem quite so helpless amongst all these strong warriors.
“A siren?” She whistles. “And here I was hoping Karnon wouldn’t touch you—you being human and all that. No offense,” she adds. “I’ve dallied with plenty of human women in my time, but it’s a thing for some fae.”
I remember Karnon’s earlier words. “So I’ve heard.”
We lapse into silence for a bit, both of us likely musing on our fate.
“What kingdom are you from?” I finally ask.
“Day.” She exhales. “Royal guard turned prisoner. That’s irony for you.”
It all stings. Hearing her story, knowing her fate, knowing mine.
“So tell me,” she continues, “how does a human come to be trapped in this hellhole with the rest of us?”
“I have unusually bad luck,” I quip, even as I grimace down at my hands.
I hear her gruff laughter. “Apparently that kind of thing is contagious around here.”
Another small smile stretches across my face. Who would’ve thought I’d become fast friends with a fae warrior while imprisoned?
Absently, I watch the guards patrol the rows of cells across from me. Most have some obvious animalistic feature, like whiskers, or tails, or hooves. But then there are some who walk these halls that don’t have these obvious characteristics.
Could they be fae from another kingdom? Humans?
My heart pounds at that last possibility.
“Hey, Aetherial, can you do me a favor?” I ask, my eyes studying a uniformed cook delivering tray after tray of prisoner meals. He looks fully human from here, but I’m so far away it’s hard to tell.
“What would you like, siren?”
I watch the uniformed man as he moves down a cell. “Can you tell a human from a fae on sight?” I ask.
“Almost always,” she says. “Why?”
I can’t help the spike of excitement I feel. “Have you seen any humans here since you were taken?”
“Hmmm, not that I remember. I wasn’t looking for them though.”
I continue to stare at the cook as he moves down the cell block. For the life of me I can’t tell what he is.
“If you see any,” I say distractedly, “will you let me know?”
If I can get a human to bend to my will … the possibilities are endless.
I’m tempted to try out my powers right now, but a healthy dose of fear keeps me quiet. I’m afraid that if I glamour one of these guys prematurely and it doesn’t work, the guards will stop me from getting another opportunity.
“My view is pretty limited at the moment, but yeah, I’ll let you know.” It’s silent for a beat. “Is it true then, what they say about a siren’s voice?”
My mouth forms a grim line. “It’s true.”
“Your idea will probably get you killed.”
I guffaw. “You prefer the alternative?”
I hear Aetherial’s husky laughter. “I was right about you. Stupid and courageous.”
Neither of us speak again until a series of guards approach a cell across the way, one of them carrying two large poles over his shoulder. At the back of the cell, a fae woman with flame red hair lies limp on her pallet.
The bars to her cell slide back, the metal scraping along its tracks.
The guards file inside the cell, and the guard carrying the poles snaps them open. That’s when I realize I’m not staring at poles, per se, but a crude gurney. A stained wisp of cloth is stretched between the two shafts.
They set the gurney on the ground, then grab the woman, situating her body on the flimsy material.
Then, as one, the two prison guards lift the gurney and cart her out. I watch them until they’re out of range.
“They remove the lifeless ones,” Aetherial says from the cell over, clearly watching alongside me.
They’re paralyzing the women.
“Stay here long enough,” Aetherial continues, “it’ll happen to you too.”
I frown, even though she can’t see it.
All those sleeping women in Des’s kingdom, all the paralyzed ones here … it can’t be a coincidence.
Which means—
I think I know who the Thief of Souls is.
Karnon.
This time when I’m deposited in what I can only presume to be Karnon’s room, I know what to expect. The ominous press of air, the silent retreat of the guards, Karnon’s approach.
I’m once again shackled and blinded, completely at the whim of the monstrous fae king. However, the moment he speaks, something about our dynamic feels different.
“My precious bird, they blinded you,” he says, aghast. A moment later his claws slash through the material, leaving the cloth hanging in ribbons around my neck.
“Beautiful creature,” he murmurs, taking me in. His nostrils flare as his gaze rakes over me. “Human … but not. Creature of the heavens and the sea.”
His gaze halts at my hands. “Shackles too? This is preposterous. You are my guest.”
He rips the iron cuffs binding my wrists clear apart, hissing as he does so. I startle at the show of strength. I assumed he was powerful, but seeing a live demonstration is sobering.
“Cursed metal!” he spits out as the cuffs hits the ground. He clenches his fists, and I can hear his skin sizzling.
Iron burns.
In spite of the pain, he reaches between my ankles and rips apart the cuffs there as well, howling once again at the pain.
This is what the warriors endured when they wore these?
A guard pokes his head in. “Your Majest—”
“Out!” Karnon cries.
The door slams shut not even a moment later.
To me he mumbles, “They’re getting too daring, those guards, coming and going without knocking. Must make an example of one of them—and soon.” He’s completely unaware that as he talks, his palms are smoking.
Karnon rises back up, those antlers of his towering over us. His eyes are bright and unfocused, his pupils dilated.
He cups my face, and immediately I tense, his burning palms heating my skin.
“Frightened little bird, you have nothing to fear from me.” He begins to stroke my skin. “All I want is to calm you. Pet you.”
Ugh. Mad king indeed.
His hands run down my arms. Halfway down he stops and turns them over. “What is this bare flesh?” he says. “Where are your markings?”
Um, what?
His hands move to my neck, and he probes the skin there. “And your gills!” he says, horrified. “Where are they?”
I give him a cautious look. Today Karnon seems kinder but definitely crazier than the last time we met.
He spins me around and sucks in a breath. “Your wings! Who clipped you?”
He turns me around, and once again I get a close up of those wild eyes and the fangs that his lips can never quite hide. His claw tips dig into my flesh.
I realize after a moment that he expects me to answer.
I blink a few times, dazed by all the manhandling. “No one clipped my wings. I never had any to begin with.” You crazy bastard.
“None to begin with?” He moves behind me, making me tense up again, and he presses his hands flat against my back. “No, no.” He shakes his head vehemently. “Dormant.” He strokes my skin, and I’m beginning to get the willies. “Oh, but they must bud.”
I don’t follow any of this. I don’t speak psycho.
“Beautiful bird. Tragic bird. My bird. You are not like the others. They smell of trees and sunbaked earth. Some feel cold like the winter freeze. No beasts among them—save for my sacrifices. Must be made, must be made.”
If I tried to run right now, how far would I get?
His hands move down my back, to my waist, and I decide that I don’t really care what my odds are of escape.
I turn around, letting the siren out.
His eyes glitter as he takes in my shimmering skin. “Breathtaking creature. Caged, flightless thing. You are a rare—”
I slam my knee into his crotch.
He makes a small, choked sound, his body folding in as he clutches himself.
His mistake to see me as harmless.
I bolt for the door.
I hear a snarl behind me. A moment later, he materializes in front of me, blocking the door. His eyes flash, a menacing growl rumbles in his throat. “If you run, I will chase you, and I will break you, pretty bird.”
“Stay away from me,” I say. My voice becoming ethereal.
The Fauna King’s eyes flicker, and I sense I’m no longer staring at Karnon.
Those eyes … I’m looking down an abyss, and the monster that lies at the bottom of it.
They are the same eyes I stared into yesterday.
He runs his hands through his hair, taming his wild mane. This man’s not bestial, not like Karnon. He’s cultivated. His eyes are focused, shrewd.
Interest sparks in his gaze. “Beautiful slave. We meet again.”
This … is not the same person I was speaking to a moment ago. I’m used to having two aspects of myself, so I know the signs fairly well.
The way Karnon is now studying me, his expression piqued—and hungry—makes me worried. The Karnon I met earlier was crazy, unpredictable, feral, but he didn’t seem evil. Not like he does now.
I begin to back up. In response, the fae king prowls forward. This man is brutal, violent, unforgiving. He’s the kind of man who takes and takes and takes.
He closes the distance between us, wrapping his hand around my wrist. Karnon’s palm moves over my bracelet. “What is this?” He fingers the beads. “You are not to wear anything but what I give you.” As he speaks, his fingers curl around the bracelet. He yanks hard on it, and I let out a small sound as the beads dig into me. But it doesn’t break.
Frowning, he tries again. Again, my charmed jewelry holds fast. I’d enjoy his frustration if my arm wasn’t getting flayed in the process.
“What is this magic?” he growls, peering closer at the beads. All at once he jerks his head back. “The Bastard of Arestys,” he snarls, releasing my hand. “Guards!”
They enter the room.
“Why was I not informed that she wears Desmond’s magic?”
They look at each other, obviously confused. As if they would know. These guards are obviously just muscle.
“Your M-Majesty,” one of them stutters, “we weren’t aware—”
Karnon takes a menacing step forward. “Not aware?” he says. “Are you blind?”
He waits for response.
The guards shake their heads.
As the three speak, I begin to edge towards the door. My heart pounds faster and faster. This might be my one opportunity to escape.
“You brought foreign magic in here,” Karnon says. “It can be traced.”
Traced?
“Your Majesty, we had no involvement—”
But the Fauna King is done listening.
Karnon roars, slashing a clawed hand through the air. Several feet away the guards scream as each of their stomachs rip open in four long, jagged lines. Claw marks. Karnon did that with his magic.
Almost immediately blood and innards spill out from their guts.
Not wasting another second, I bolt for the door.
I never make it out.
Karnon grabs me from behind, his claws slicing into my skin as he spins me around. “We’re not done,” He whispers into my ear. He grasps my jaw, squeezing it to the point of pain. And then he breathes into me once more.
