Page 36 of A Bargain with the Fae King

A petite fae with blond hair and wearing Riven’s colors crashes into the antlered fae. Her sword cuts deep into its side. The enemy cries out, body hunched in pain. The cry is cut short as Riven attacks from the opposite side, severing the creature’s head as the blond dips low to avoid the swing of his blade.

I gag as the head and body fall in opposite directions. One more headless corpse on the bloody field.

Worse is the sight beyond.

The bare spot of grass where May’s body had lain.

I’m up and running before Riven has the chance to wipe the blood from his sword. His hand latches onto my arm as I sprint past. My feet slip on the bloody ground as he drags me to a halt.

“Stop,” he says. “Stay with me.”

“May! Where is she?” I claw at his chest. My heart threatens to leap from my ribs. Tears run unchecked down my face.

Riven’s head whips to the side, his eyes widening as they settle on the empty ground.

“Sylvie,” he snaps to the blond.

“On it.” She’s off in a flash, running like a sprinter in the direction from which she came, her long hair trailing behind her.

“We’ll find her.” His grip on my arm tightens, almost painfully, as his head whips side to side, scanning our surroundings. “She has to be here.”

The sounds of battle dwindle around us.

“May!” I call for her, but she doesn’t answer.

Riven sheathes his sword and tugs me closer, holding me against his chest.

“Stop. Let me—” No matter how I squirm, I can’t free myself.

Darkness rises up at the edge of the tree line. I gasp as the thick vines intertwine themselves, forming an impenetrable, thorny barrier around the clearing. Riven’s jaw is set, his eyes far away in concentration.

He’s doing this. I freeze as the revelation settles in.

“Riven!” Ambrose’s bellow jerks him back to the moment. The vines fall still and lock into place.

In unison, we turn toward his voice across the clearing. He and three others stand staring down a fae with a long tail. One who holds a small figure in blue.

Chapter 11

Mybreathhitchesasthe air around us pulls and warps. A moment later, we stand next to Ambrose, staring down the fae who holds my sister. One arm is curled under May’s shoulders. Pointed claws extending from the other are aimed at her throat.

No. Oh, God, no.

Two sets of ears twitch atop the fae’s head: the long, pointed ones all the fae have and a second set of cat-like ears. Golden eyes gleam in an angular, balanced face. Light pink hair cascades down her back.

“You’ve made a mistake dealing falsely with us, Forest King.” Her voice is a hiss, accompanied by a show of pointed canines.

“Give her back, please! She’s just a child!” I reach for May, who hangs limply in her arms.

“Give us the girl, and you go in peace,” Riven echoes.

“Peace?” she huffs, her tail flicking behind her.

“Please, she’s just—”

“If you want the little human”—she slides her gaze between Riven and me—“return to this place in seven days with something of equal value. If not, the girl stays with us.”

Within the blink of an eye, she’s gone, disappeared into thin air with my sister.

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