Page 25 of Curse the Fae

I finger the chain around my neck. “I accept. See if I don’t shatter you.”

“My presence might do that,” he promises.

“But what will my presence do to you?”

Disgust contorts his face. “Nothing. It will do nothing. For mortals are nothing to me. Understood?”

“Understood,” I assure him.

“Good.” He tilts his head. “Now leave.”

Gladly. For once since he dragged me out of that shark pool, I’ve run out of things to say. I swing around and march from the den, bypassing the contaminated jars and bottles. He hasn’t told me how to get back to my chamber, but I’m unconcerned about that. I need to get away from him as quickly as possible. I’d rather face the dark and unknown than spend one more second in the glare of those ruthless eyes.

Those eyes, which somehow follow me on my way out.

Those eyes, which have found a way to blindsight me, after all.

9

My limbs carry me at a swift pace down the terrarium walkway strewn with hedges. The reptiles drape themselves across the ground and dangle over branches like colorful cords. As I pass by, they hiss and rattle, but it doesn’t faze me.

Only one type of viper has ever done that. Game or no game, I mean to stop him from succeeding ever again. Elixir has caused enough mayhem. He’s taken plenty from me, and I won’t let him take any more.

I retrace my steps from The Pit of Vipers and into the underground tunnel. The soles of my sandals thwack the ground. Occasionally, I glance over my shoulder, but he’s not behind me, not following me, not coming after me.

The cavities are vast and numerous, some containing slender waterways. And where there is water, there are creatures. From an adjacent stream, I catch a glimpse of jeweled skin and spiked fins surfing through the water. In a storybook world, I would stop to marvel at these mystical dwellers.

But I’m not a player in some fairytale. I’m alone in a dark, dangerous world.

It was foolish to dash off without considering my direction. If I don’t stop, I’ll be lost.

Maybe this is why Elixir hadn’t appointed my guard to fetch me, so that I might run rampant like prey, because no matter where I go, and no matter how far I travel from the chamber, I’ll still be trapped. The Sunken Isle is merely a small cage tucked inside a much larger one.

I halt at an intersection and grip my stomach, fighting to control my exhalations. The ceiling orbs toss light onto the floor while a parallel brook emits its own blue-green radiance. I peek over the edge and study my reflection. My intricate bun is awry, the errant tendrils frizzy. My eyes are wide and as teal as my hair, just like the flecks overhead. I bear scratches from this journey, but I’m whole. That’s more than I could have hoped for.

If I can find the outlet back to the grotto, I might be able to retrace my steps to The Sunken Isle. As a climber, Lark has taught our trio how to distinguish patterns in bluffs. As a huntress, Juniper has taught our trio how to chart paths through the wild. As a swimmer, I’ve taught them how to follow the water. As rescuers and survivors, we’ve learned how to move quietly and get home safely.

It helps, but this is Faerie. Nothing is ever as it seems.

I tread with caution while noting elevation dips, outcroppings, and springs cleaving through the tunnels. At last, I reach the passage connecting to the grotto and determine my way from there, ascending the original stairway and emerging to a familiar vista.

Nearby, The Twisted Canals glitter beneath stalactites, the buildings showered in turquoise cascades and foaming with multi-level ponds. The silhouette of a peapod-shaped boat glides beneath an arched bridge, and the waterways pour into the great river.

The memory of Elixir dragging me to The Sunken Isle is entombed in my memory. Therefore, the route from here is impossible to forget. Encouraged, I head in that direction.

Melodic laughter peals from the recesses, the noise stalling my feet. A figure spreads its arms, which are lined in broad fins, and dives into the current. The water Fae doesn’t come back up for air.

Whispers and mutterings drift from the canals. Heads swerve in my direction, and several additional bodies hurtle into the river, their splashes growing nearer.

They’ve noticed me. And they swim fast.

Despite the game, what types of restrictions—or permissions—has Elixir given his kin about how to treat me?

I inch backward, then wheel around and sprint toward the stone jetty. My chasers close the distance with lethal focus, their slick bodies shearing through the gulf.

Then they stop.

I glance over my shoulder. A tide cuts through the river and lashes toward the Faeries. They reel away, evading the onslaught thrusting across the expanse like a barrier. Sulky disappointment mars their features before they whirl toward the canals and slip into the abyss. Some force had thwarted them, though I’m not interested in dwelling on that. I just want to get away from here.

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