Page 47 of Fearless

The dirty crown rests in the crook of my elbow, sliding to my shoulder when I lift my arms again. I reach up into the darkness, desperate to find the hole I’d fallen through. The wooden lid caves beneath my weight, having nothing better to do than rot after decades spent in this crypt.

My head pounds, and the blood oozing from my body is only aiding the dizziness. Only the promise of moonlight on my skin has me pushing through every bit of pain. And when my fingers brush a jagged piece of wood dangling above, I nearly laugh in relief.

Hands searching blindly, I manage to find what feels like the remaining frame of the trapdoor. With a deep breath, I curl my bleeding fingers around the wooden lip and tug. This time, I do let out a hysterical laugh when it holds. I don’t bother testing its strength again before pulling myself upward with a grunt.

Two things happen within the span of a single moment. The first being that my head collides with a splintered piece of what used to bethe trapdoor above. After letting out a gasp of pain and surprise, the second thing follows soon after.

I have the eeriest feeling that I am no longer alone.

A sudden chill pebbles my skin as I drag myself up onto the cave floor. I haven’t even taken a full breath before I’m scrambling to my feet and heading for the splotch of night sky beyond the tunnel.

An icy sort of fear grips me at the thought of what it is I may have just done. The crown around my arm grows heavy, as if being pulled back to its owner. A panicked sound finds its way out of me at the thought. The dead are not meant to be disturbed. And I may have awakened something that no one else has dared to.

I shake my head at the absurdity of it all. “Mind tricks,” I whisper, stumbling forward. “This is all in my head.”

As the mouth of the cave grows closer, I find myself looking over my shoulder and into the yawning darkness behind. It is all consuming, that lightless expanse. And I am nearly petrified by it.

I force myself to turn back toward that awaiting night and push on. Blood spills into my eye, demanding I use the back of my filthy hand to wipe it from my vision. That swarm of oversized bats has thoroughly torn open my skin and left claw-shaped slivers to decorate my body in their absence.

Beyond, the starry sky awaits me, mere steps away. My pace quickens, heart racing in anticipation of my reunion with the night. I brace a hand against the wall, feel the last stretch of cold stone before—

Shadows slither across the ground, lapping at my feet.

Three figures step into the entrance of the cave, blocking me from freedom. Moonlight illuminates their backs to outline their broad figures. I take a slow step back, swallowing a scream of fear and frustration.

Bandits.

“Thanks for getting that crown for us. Now hand it over,” one ofthem grumbles, voice like gravel beneath the bandanna covering his mouth. “And if you’re quick about it, we might not even take that shiny ring from your finger.”

My wounds ache, but I force myself to muster whatever strength I have left. Fingers flexing at my side, I focus on the feel of my dagger while mapping out my next moves. Only when I’ve gathered every bit of brutality that lurks within me, I speak. My voice is scared and small, and if the men bothered to listen closely, they might just hear the danger lacing it. “Take it all—I don’t care. Just… just please don’t hurt me.”

I extend my hand, presenting the ring to them. The dirty diamond glints enticingly enough to have a man stepping forward. I can practically feel the sly grin beneath his bandanna as he reaches for my hand, intent on pulling the band from my finger.

I calm my mind. Shut out my soft heart. And stain my soul once again.

My fingers close around the man’s wrist before I’m pulling him into the awaiting dagger now gripped tightly in my other hand. The blade sinks into his stomach with a sickening sound. Blood pours from the wound as the bandit grunts weakly.

I ignore the dull ache in my chest. This is precisely what I feared—myself.

Adena’s light within me sputters out.

Pulling the dagger from his gut, I watch him fall to my feet.

I stand over the dying body, chest heaving and hand bloody. The men gawk as I slip the crown off my arm to clutch it in my fist. My voice is ragged, hand beckoning in challenge. “If you want this, come and take it.”

The larger of the two remaining men charges at me, seemingly awakened from his stupor. He swings a massive arm that I easily duck under. After spending so much time in complete darkness, my eyes seemsuddenly sharper than before. Crown in hand, I stand to my full height before sending its pointed jewels careening toward his skull.

He yelps as blood gushes from his temple, stumbling back to let the final man have a go at me. I dance on the balls of my feet, ignoring every wince of pain at the movement. When the last bandit pulls a long dagger from his belt, I let the crown clatter to the cave floor, tightening my hold on the hilt of my own weapon.

He lunges, blade flashing. I manage to rotate my body before he can stab me in the chest, but the sudden, searing pain shooting from my shoulder tells me I wasn’t fast enough. He swipes at me again, forcing my feet farther back into the cave. Analyzing each one of his movements, I let him jab at me again. Arm extended and chest open, he’s made himself an easy target.

Holding my dagger by its blade, I cock my arm and let the weapon fly. It pierces his chest, has him staggering back before eventually slumping against the cave wall. I watch his body slide down the stone, staining it with a streak of scarlet.

I blink at the two bodies sprawled before me. Blink again when a very much alive one comes barreling toward me. Blood runs down his face from the gash I’d given him with a century-old crown. I don’t have the chance to move my leaden feet before large arms are wrapped around my middle.

He shoves me against the wall, my skull meeting stone. Spots swim before my eyes to blot out what little vision I have. My cry of pain is weak, the tired body it crawls from unable to muster anything more.

A rough hand has found its way around my throat. Fingers squeeze until I can no longer breathe.

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