Page 107 of Beyond the Faerie Gate

“You know,” I mutter, trying for a bit of levity. “You could buy me dinner first.”

My words are muffled by the bars pressing into my face, but my captors scoff anyway.

Someone presses something to the damned enchanted cuffs in front of me, and they fall away with ease. My arms are wrenched around to my sides and someone takes a pair of tongs to the first band on my left bicep.

I got that one at thirteen, after my father set his dogs on me and I survived. It was the first time he honoured me after he released me from the deep caves. The first time he showed any interest in me as a warrior. The fae wrench it free and toss it to one side without care. It clangs on the wooden floor, rolling around before falling silent.

“Fucking fairies,” I growl.

The hands at my arms tighten.

“Try anything, Fomorian, and you won’t like the consequences.”

They go for the other arm next, tugging down the band I got for killing my elder brother in single combat. He was a bastard for challenging a teenager—but still, it earned me my title and the perks that came with it, so I can’t complain.

Another clatter. Another achievement chucked away. They keep going until my arms are bare, and I swear I’ve never felt more naked in my life. As the last one clatters to the floor, it takes all of my self-control not to thrash against my captors and to keep my tone light.

“You’d better put those somewhere safe. I’m going to need them back when I get out of here.”

This time there are snorts all around.

“Do you ever shut up, Fomorian?” One of the females demands as the cuffs clink around my hands, holding them prisoner behind my back with a flash of cold that mutes my power.

I shrug. “And deny the world the joy of listening to my wit? Nah.”

They shove me in a cell, but I don’t spare the small space a glance as they lock the door. All of my attention is on the one who draws his sword and uses the tip to hook my arm bands onto the blade. He carries them like that—careful not to touch the metal—and drops them into a box in the corner.

I’ll be getting those back on my way out of here.

“No blanket?” I call at their retreating backs. “Does that mean your Nicnevin is going to come and keep me warm?”

One of the twins hesitates, hissing, but his brother grabs his arm and forces him up the stairs with a final, parting glare at me. With them gone, I fall back on the small cot and grimace.

This was definitely not how I saw my day going.

Yup, Praedra is going to kill me.

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