Page 111 of A Song of Air
The Queen of All That Dies
Weylyn ground his teethtogether as he stared up at a face he never thought he’d see again in his lifetime.
It was a face not unlike his own, though a few shades darker and uglier. His brown-gold eyes flicked with mirth, and his white smile and sharp teeth were blinding as he loomed over Weylyn, digging his booted foot into his chest.
That would leave a bruise.
“Hello, Cassimir,” he greeted, smiling as though he weren’t in pain. As if his heart was not pounding furiously inside his chest, threatening to rip from his rib cage. He calmed the beating, calmed the secrets his body would give away to Cassimir’s hearing.
Cassimir’s head tilted to the side and his smile dropped. In an instant he appeared every inch the dangerous, pompous Unseelie Fae he truly was. The golden crown that perched atop his head seemed entangled within his hair and out of place near his curving, black horns.
“That’s new,” Weylyn commented, trying to sit up, but Cass dug his heel in harder. “Though I have to admit, it does make you look pretentious.”
Cass’ lip pulled back in a sneer. “Now, now, little brother. Is that any way to greet me after all this time?”
“I could say the same to you. Sending your beasts after me?Tsk, tsk, tsk.Not very brotherly of you, is it?”
He let out a slight scoff and leaned back, removing his foot from Weylyn’s chest. He didn’t take in a breath, knowing it was no reprieve. Weylyn was smart enough and knew his brother well enough now to know that he would pounce again, and the next time he would go for the throat.
Weylyn stood slowly to his feet, trying not to sway. Unseelie was shrouded in iron, the flecks of it in the air already invading his system painfully. It was hard enough trying to stand, let alone use his magic.
He dusted his pants off and flicked his gaze around at his brother’s beasts. They were flying, wingless hybrids. Creatures with the antlers of an elk, the teeth of a tiger, and thick, muscular, furry bodies. They were bigger now than when Weylyn last saw them. And there were less of them, too.
“Do you mind?” Weylyn jerked his head in the direction of the beast looming over Bryson. As much as he didn’t want to draw his brother’s attention in his mate’s direction, he feared he had no choice.
Cass turned slowly and called out a command in the old language of the Unseelie.
“Up!”
The creature sat back on its short hind legs. As soon as it did, Bryson scrambled backwards, coughing. She struggled to her feet and Weylyn couldn’t immediately run to her, even if he desperately wanted to. His brother was watching his every movement which meant that everything he did had to be calculated, cold, and purposeful.
Bryson stumbled near him, bumping into his body, and grasping him to avoid falling.
“And who is this pathetic creature?” Cass sniffed in Bryson’s direction, looking at her distastefully.
Weylyn flashed his teeth, but it was Bryson who answered. “This pathetic creature killed your fucking beast and will do so again if they come anywhere near us.”
Only Weylyn could feel it for the lie it was. Her magic was waning, the iron trapping her in a vicious and deadly grip. Yet still, a fierce wave of pride rose and nestled in his chest at the venom in her words and the ferocity in her glare.
He fought not to smirk, though the urge to do so died when his brother’s expression tightened with anger.
“You admit to killing my pet,” he said slowly. The beasts around them growled. “Had you not already been traveling with my brother, this truth would have sealed your fate regardless.”
Bryson snapped her canines in Cassimir’s direction, but Weylyn’s brother only chuckled.
“Enough,” he snapped in the Unseelie tongue. “Do not fight me, brother. It will only be worse if you do.”
Weylyn set a hand against Bryson’s wrist to calm her. His brother’s gaze strayed to the movement, and the smile on his mouth became a knowing, dangerous thing.
Every instinct in Weylyn’s body told him to flee. Not out of fear of his brother or his beasts. Not out of fear for Bryson, for he knew his mate could hold her own.
But for what he knew was to come. And his brother was right anyway. Fighting would only make it worse.
There was absolutely nothing they could do except accept their fate.
And try to make it out alive.
Chains clinked around their wrists. They’d appeared, almost as if by magic, and Weylyn hadn’t fought off the Unseelie man or even tried to make an escape. Bryson had wanted to run, to fight her way out, but she figured it would be pointless. Not with her magic waning.
