Page 9 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
I raise an eyebrow.“It is not much of a choice you give me.”
The female speaks again and I whirl around to her.“You had more choice than most. Either we hunt you for the rest of your life under the commission made against you, or you take the trials and join our order.”
She doesn’t need to mention that it was Titania’s bottomless purse that purchased their services to assassinate me. Or that, since they take conflicting commissions, I could have hired them to attack the High Chancellor as well, and waited in the human realm until the job was done. But I will not make that woman a martyr to her cult-like following. They would use the excuse of her death to rally behind a false injustice.
I don’t have the time to waste, not with Keira in my enemy’s clutches.
She could become collateral damage.
I will turn this order of assassins upside down. I will pass the trials that very few survive, then challenge their leader for ultimate control over the elite force. When I return to the Spring Court for my woman and my retribution, I will have this deadly army at my back.
I spread my arms wide, a false, cocky half-smile spreading across my lips. “I accept the trial.”
The words are hardly out of my mouth when inky shadows pump seemingly out of nowhere. They wrap thick claws around each member of the party, who disappear in a blink, except for a single hooded assassin.
“Well, that was rude,” I mutter.
The assassin tilts their head, then a reverberating sound escapes them. I scowl at that laughter targeted at me.
“You are either incredibly confident or incredibly stupid. I can’t decide which it is.” He pulls back his hood to reveal a mess of long, dark curls, penetrated by two thick ram’s horns. The low fae has navy-tinged skin, with dark indigo runes marked all over it.
“That makes two of us,” I grumble. “Probably both. Desperate, too.”
“Ahh,” he says with a smirk. “All who come to us are desperate.” He grabs me by the shoulders and swings me around to face the mountain with surprising force.“Remember, the plants here are either poisonous or release hallucinogenic drugs, especially if disturbed. Earth magic won’t help you. A touch is still a touch. Their compounds leach into the soil and the waterways, so don’t eat or drink a thing. The trees are sentient and fucking sociopaths. They have serious anger management issues because no nymphs venture here to tend to them. I probably would too if I were rooted to the ground. Oh, and watch out for the nixies. They have a hell of a bite and turn frenzied on high fae blood.”
“Why are you helping me?” I ask.
“Contrary to popular belief, we want candidates to pass the trials and join our ranks…if they are worthy.” He slaps me hard on the back and I stagger forward a couple of steps.
I run a hand through my hair, but it freezes halfway across my scalp as my eyes roam up and up and up all those leagues of deathtraps to the temple at the apex. “Thanks?” I mumble with uncertainty.
“No worries, and good luck…ah…what was your name again? It doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t know my name?” I scowl at him.
“Why learn a dead man’s name?”
He damn well knows my name. I’m sure he learned all sorts of things about me when he was commissioned for my death.
“Get to the top of the mountain and prove yourself worthy of my time, and I will learn your name.” The assassin laughs at his own joke, revealing massive canine teeth. “My name, though—that is important…if you survive. I’m Dante, and I will be your guide through your trials. Hopefully, for more than this one.”
Then he winks out of existence. One moment he is there, and the next, completely gone, no shadows or slow transition.
Some fucking guide.
I stand there with an impossible task ahead of me and no idea how to begin.
Every step I take is with Keira’s name on my lips, her love making my heart beat and her needs sharpening my mind to a razor edge. I risk it all, not for my people, but for their queen.
I reach out to Keira with the gentlest caress against her soul and find her deep asleep, warm under a blanket with a full belly. It’s the bare fucking basics, but the gods know it energizes me to do what I need to.
I hike around the base of the mountain until I find sheets of rocky outcroppings stretching ten times my height to a platformabove. It is a good place to start. I insert my hands and feet into whatever cracks and holes I can find, slowly pulling myself up a nearly vertical wall.
It isn’t until I am almost halfway up, swinging from one hand to grasp a pocket in the rock that is just within my reach, that the mountain plays tricks on me. Ice creeps over the fingers gripping the wall and slooshes out of my next handhold, making it impossible to grab. I am caught mid-motion, both hands slipping. Vines dart out across the stone to meet me like dozens of angry snakes and I don’t want to find out what happens when they touch me.
I lose my grip and slide down the sheer face of the outcrop for multiple feet, my stomach tumbling at the descent. I brace myself against the rock face with only my boots and rapidly tearing palms, leaving streaks of blood on the rough surface. I form a platform of pure hardened air to catch my fall, feet landing hard on it.
Fuck. I am already far too tired for this.
