Page 101 of Hunted in the Shadows
Marcellus raised his eyebrows. “They must stay put.”
“And they will,” she insisted. She looked between Cliff and me with feigned detachment, cautious about making it appear like she was seeking our approval. I gave her the slightest nod—anything to get us out of here quicker, to give her the chance to find a gemstone.
Even if the thought of having her out of sight set my teeth on edge.
The fragile gleam in her gaze hardened as she read my face, then Cliff’s. Sylvia squared her shoulders. “They’ll stay put and won’t bring harm upon anyone—fairy or siren. But I refuse to leave my protectors open to attack without any mobility to defend themselves.”
The demand was a stretch, and I knew it. These fairies held all the cards, and even if Sylvia was firm, there was little she could do if her insistence was shot down.
But to my surprise, Marcellus made a gesture at the earth fairies who controlled our bindings. At once, the vines receded. “They will not be granted mercy if they show any aggression, you understand?”
“So long as you don’tprovoke them, you needn’t worry,” Sylvia said sweetly.
Sighing with relief, Cliff sat back up and stretched his neck, but his grateful gaze was all but ignored as Sylvia allowed herself to be led away.
I watched her lift into the air, her familiar form blending in amongst the small crowd. Their flight was graceful and swift, arcing around hanging stalactites dripping with bioluminescence. The room felt even more cavernous when she vanished behind one of the intricate dwellings built into the stone, windows awash with warm light—like some of the oxygen had left with her. An odd twinge tugged on my chest, though not for the first time. I hated that I couldn’t always follow where she went; I was human, bound to gravity while she took wing.
“It’s polite to accept offerings,” said a soft voice beside me.
I snapped my head to the side to see the dark-haired woman from before, this time holding a jug. I hadn’t even noticed she’d gone to fetch it. She brought others—three fairies who heldcovered woven baskets filled with what I could only assume was food.
Although I meant to turn her down again, a steaming scent wafted from the offered food, and I realized I was hungrier than I’d ever been in my life.
20
Sylvia
Despite instinct telling me to stay on guard, I lost myself searching for familiarity in Veloria. As Marcellus guided me through the cave, I couldn’t help but compare my surroundings to Elysia. The space was massive, much like the forest I’d grown up in. The gathering spaces and living quarters built into the stone reminded me of the sprawling underground tunnels of home.
Fairies flew and rushed about, tidying or busying themselves with tasks I couldn’t keep track of. Naturally, every single one paused to look at me before hurrying on.
“I hope we didn’t send your people into a panic,” I told Marcellus, wincing. If our initial welcome was any indication, we were lucky to have not been killed on the spot.
To my surprise, he chuckled. “Not at all. The Celestial Feast is upon us. There is much to be done. Of course, you are invited as a guest of honor. As I said, your presence here is nothing short of extraordinary.”
Maybe don’t make buckets of blood the price of entry, and you’ll have more visitors. I pursed my lips and said, “That’s very kind, but I don’t think I can stay.” My stomach chose that moment to growl. I swore I could smell authentic fairy cuisine already—the herbed bread and berry stews were practically calling my name. I blinked hard. “I would rather not trouble Veloria longer than necessary. My hunters musteat, too, after being so depleted.”
Marcellus paused at an elegantly carved archway that appeared to lead into a hub of dwellings. “The feast will easily provide for your hunters,” he assured.
I faltered, considering this. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have Jon and Cliff tastemyfood for once.
The fairy commander steered our flight through an archway. Behind it lay a two-story building in the popular style of most of the others—carved thresholds yawning over sturdy, polished red wood structures. It was only when we landed on the cool limestone balcony that I could make out signs of weathering at the base of the structure, evidence to decades of withstanding the spray of the water below. I grasped the railing and leaned over the edge.
There were three tiers of dwellings stacked beneath us and two more above, poking out irregularly like cogs on a wheel along the craggy stone. At the very lowest level, the dwelling had sloping ramps to the water instead of railings. A fairy with dark braided hair tinged with blue at the roots was seated outside with her bare legs plunged into the water. Her hands moved skillfully over the flower strand she was weaving—rosebuds and marigolds and peonies all woven into an intricate floral rope that snaked around her.
The task was hypnotizing, inspiring homesickness as I remembered a time when my errands had been to gather berries and scrub the Elysian kitchens before the final meal call—not a tender of bloodshed. I furrowed my brow as the memories flickered in. I pictured Jon and Cliff, surrounded by unknown fairies and waiting for me, and the thought suddenly soured into betrayal. Simpler times didn’t meanbetter.
“This way,” Marcellus beckoned.
He was holding open the door for me. Folding my wings to my back, I hastened to step inside. There was a quiet hum of energy in the dimly lit dwelling, with only a few women tendingto various tasks. They all looked up at me when I entered, the murmur of conversation seizing like an ousted candle.
“They found the wanderer?” a woman voiced, her tone hushed.
“She found us,” Marcellus said.
He placed a gentle hand on my lower back to guide me inward. Despite the intensity of their curiosity, I didn’t get the sense I was unwelcome. On the contrary, the fairy closest to us scrambled to greet me, kissing my cheeks and clasping my hands tightly, introducing herself as Roslyn.
I barely noticed as she stepped away, enamored by the exquisite furnishings that opened up around us. A pair of crystal chandeliers scattered fae light across the windowless chamber, providing an ethereal wash of bright light. Plump cushions in jewel-tone fabric dominated the floor alongside velvety lounge furniture. End tables were stacked with books, their spines lovingly creased. The walls were polished smooth, dominated by midnight-blue tapestries, where gold and silver threads paid tribute to constellations. Some of the colors were dulled as though ancient hands had woven these long ago. My fingers twitched, fighting the desire to stride over and feel the delicate handiwork for myself.
