Page 99 of Hunted in the Shadows
“Stop!” Sylvia cried.
In all the commotion, the commander didn’t flinch. He looked between the three of us like he was trying to put together a particularly tricky puzzle—and he was thrilled for the challenge.
“Please.” Sylvia sounded like she was making a great deal of effort to remain calm. “Let them go before you damage them. They’re territorial, that’s all.”
“You chose volatile protectors, Miss. But quite loyal, aren’t they?”
“I could say the same.” Sylvia pointed at the water, where the sirens had begun to stir with more interest. “Yet I don’t see any leashes onthem.”
“They are an integral part of our home—more than that, they are family. I cannot, in good conscience, release your hunters until I learn more.” He raised his hand calmly to halt her argument. “You seem reasonable enough to understand that anomalies such as yours cannot be allowed to roam our community. But rest assured—Veloria is a haven, and you saved one of our own. You and your property will be taken care of as you recover and satiate this…curiosityof yours.”
“They won’t be hurt?” Sylvia demanded.
“So long as they remain docile.”
“Swear an oath,” she growled.
He gave a startled laugh. “Does the word of a Sentinel-Warrior mean nothing where you come from?”
Sylvia’s posture went stiff. “Your rune is real?” she asked, suspicion in her voice. “It isn’t just a tribute to the old tales?”
“It’s as real as your own marking. Try healing it if you like—it won’t vanish.”
I swore her hand twitched like she wanted to touch it. Whatever this exchange between them meant, Sylvia stopped arguing as though something had resonated.
Water sloshed sharply to my left—followed by seductive laughter. The bonds on my wrists strained as I tensed, eyeing the flash of silvery tails through the water. The dark, too-large eyes. The sirens weren’t glamouring us, revealing glimpses of their true, rotten forms—a sight typically reserved for drowning men.
“They’ve been asked to leave you be,” the commanding fairy’s voice cut through my thoughts, reading my face. “Be at ease, child.”
My brow furrowed, gaze snapping back to him. Faint lines on his forehead marked him as a few years older than me at most, but he spoke with an authority that rivaled someone far older. His piercing brown eyes sparkled with that infuriating mischief, giving me the sickening sense that he read me far better than I could him.
What the hell have we walked into, Sylvia?
Another inhuman, clicking chirp echoed through the cave, chilling my blood. Though obedient to the order not to harm Cliff and me, the sirens continued to swim with disturbing excitement—unable to tear their eyes from us. They lurked like sharks circling a bloody carcass.
The commander turned back to Sylvia, offering his hand. “Come, get off your wings.”
She ignored the aid but followed him down to one of the large, porous rocks that jutted from the ground before us. Several of the other fairies followed while a few of them lingered to circle Cliff and me at a lazy pace, whispering to each other conspiratorially.
The commander introduced himself as Marcellus, lead sentinel of Veloria. When Sylvia gave her name in turn, he kissed her cheek in greeting. Several of the other fairies did the same, pressing in to warmly exchange names. I could see how it disarmed her, stole the confident mask as strangers embraced her. It had to be jarring to be welcomed so warmly when the last fairies she saw banished her fromher own home.
Sylvia looked so pale beside Marcellus, sosmall.I wanted her in my grasp, where she was safe. But she was not some naive girl who needed my protection, I reminded myself. The space between us burned nonetheless.
“You must’ve come such a long way,” remarked a female warrior, plucking at Sylvia’s torn top with a frown. The iridescent teal fabric was still damp with blood—my blood—from her efforts healing us in the passageways.
The tension in the air eased as the warriors pressed in on Sylvia with eager questions and flattering remarks. I heard several more of them voice their concerns about her traitor mark, but none of it was hateful. A willowy woman even kissed it, giving Sylvia a kind look. Another fairy comfortingly remarked that Veloria’s alliance with predators like sirens would make them traitors in the eyes of just about every other village—they understood what she’d been through.
“You look hungry,” a soft voice drifted past my left ear.
I stiffened, finding a fairy with olive skin and tumbling raven curls eyeing me the way tourists salivated over candy apples being dipped behind glass windows. She looked like she hadn’t seen humans in decades, and judging by the corpses we’d passed, that was likely true.
“I’m fine,” I said, keeping my gaze forward. I tried to ignore the prickling unease of being watched like an animal.
“Oh, I rather like this one.” Another dulcet voice. I glanced to the side—this remark was for Cliff, not me.
A male and female, both adorned in the same lightweight, seafoam-colored armor of the others, hovered closer to Cliff, who was doing his best to block out the attention with a hard clench in his jaw. He seemed to be reserving his energy for staying alert through the blood loss.
“Won’t you look at me?” she asked.
