Page 35 of A Bargain with the Fae King

I shudder. The eagle fluffs its wing, caressing my shoulder with the edge of its feathers. Its head tilts to the side, watching me instead of the battle. The wingtip flicks out again, and its head jerks back toward the original circle.

What the hell, bird? It blinks then glances back at the figures in the field.

My legs threaten to give out below me as I choke on a scream. There, lying on the ground in a pool of moonlight, is a small figure with shimmering blond hair.

May.

I don’t think, don’t look, just bolt toward the prone figure on the ground. I stumbled over hidden rocks and fallen branches. My ankle flares with pain as it rolls to the side in a small hole.

Doesn’t matter. No time.

I ignore the stabs of pain, hobbling as fast as I can toward her still form.

A vine wiggles in front of me to encircle the camp. I leap it. I land hard on my good ankle, and my knee dips to hit the ground. My fingernails dig into the hard dirt as I swallow the pain and push myself up.

So close, so close.The small blue bunnies on her pajamas are almost visible.

A scream rips from my throat as a monstrous fae steps out in front of me. A barbed club, bigger around than my waist, is raised in one meaty, blueish hand. Horns curl out of the side of its head like a big-horned sheep. A patchwork of hides and cloth cover its bulging body.

“Human.” The gravelly voice rumbles over me, sending bile rising up my throat.

It lumbers toward me, each step shaking the ground under my feet. I stumble away from it, away from May.

No.

The club swings out between us, arching through the night and buffeting me with a puff of air smelling of decay. I gag and retreat until my heel knocks into something. It throws me off balance and onto my backside. A sharp shot of pain jabs up my spine.

The fae closes the distance between us in quick steps, reaching out its thick hand.

No. Please don’t.I close my eyes against the inevitable, shielding my face with my arms.

A grunt sounds. Something wet splashes onto my arms. A heavy thump follows. My nose burns from the rusty, metallic scent that fills the air.

I peek around my arms. The knot in my throat drops into my gut.

Riven stands before me. Long claws extend from his hands, painted with crimson that drips onto the ground. Behind him, the fae clutches its neck.

Blood spurts between thick fingers. Its club lays forgotten at its feet.

Riven’s jaw twitches, all hard angles and sharp gritted teeth. Green eyes glow with a surreal light. His hand rears back before slicing across the fae’s face. I gasp and raise my arms, catching another splatter of blood across my skin, my hair, my clothes.

Lifeless eyes, or what was left of them, stare at nothing from where the head lolls upon the ground.

“Lia.” Riven’s urgent voice calls to me. He kneels on the ground, cupping my cheek with a hand sticky with blood but no longer bearing claws. “Are you hurt?”

I barely hear him. My eyes are locked on the monstrous corpse and the blood painting the grass black in the darkness. Shouts and screams reach my ears. The clang of metal. Grunts of pain. Guttural war cries.

Riven tilts my face away from the dead fae to stare at him instead. The harsh lines have softened, the glow of his eyes muted. “Talk to me.”

Magic tingles under my skin, easing the burning pain in my ankle, my stinging back, and bruised knee.

“May. Where’s May?” I pull my head away, leaning around him in search of my sister.

A warrior, the one with antlers, charges our way, a sword raised above his head.

“Riven!” I call.

He leaps up at my cry. Drawing his sword, he steps between me and the advancing enemy.

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