Page 6 of Wrath of the Fae

I yell and shout, but what comes out is barely a breath.

Such pain on my face. Such terror. Such pleading as I’m butchered under that arch.

As I look on, I can do nothing but feel myself break into a million pieces. So helpless and guilty and angry. The emotions swamp me.

I open my eyes and take a shaky breath, returning to this little pond, back to the stars and the gentle waterfall cascading from the rock face.

Every night.

Every damn night those dreams come. It’s always as though I’m a spectator looking at the worst memories of my life. Me in the chair. Me being brutalised by Jonah. Learning the truth of what Reid and Cyrus did to my mother.

Each flashback is so vivid and determined I don’t even have to be asleep for them to strike.

Sleep. I barely recall how it feels to have slept.

Marco…

Lucca’s soft voice echoes in my mind. Gently, he reaches out with his gifts to make contact with me. He no doubt heard my mind. Heard the screams. Heard the pain. He always does because he’s always listening.

‘Polo…’ I whisper back. As I always do when he checks in on me.

Don’t drown, Pup.he adds.

‘I won’t,’ I say aloud.

I take a deep breath and sink below the water's surface, submerging myself completely. I hug my knees close to my chest and look at the hidden world below. Some of the fish sparkle. Some shimmer. Even in the darkness, they are still so beautiful. I like it down here. Quiet. So untouched by the world above. They know nothing of the King. Of my Mates. Of Ivan.

Just the water. The quiet. The dark.

I stay as long as I can, slowly sinking deeper and deeper down. I have no idea how deep this lake is. I’ve yet to reach the bottom. I look up and see the rippling reflection of the moon above, slowly fading further and further from sight as I descend into the unknown depths. I let out the last of my air and watch the bubbles rise to the surface.

I would sink forever if Reid and Cyrus hadn’t taught me how to swim. They said it might save my life one day, so I needed to learn. I think of their hands on me in that pool within the caves. Of their lips on my neck. And I ache for how much I miss them. And even more… how I hate them.

I hate that I hate them.

There’s a splash as someone falls into the lake. Judging from the force, they fell from a height. And the direction of the waves and bubbles tell me they fell from the rockface above. I watch the bubbles clear, revealing a woman kicking and struggling. She removes her long black cloak and lets it fall to the dark depths, making it easier for her to reach the surface. As soon as her head emerges, I hear her desperate screams. Her pleading.

Slowly, I return to the surface, the top of my head silently breaks the water, and I look on. The Fae woman is looking up at the cliffs, desperate for someone named Jakob. The tips of her Fae ears protrude from her matted hair, and even in the darkness, I see her beauty. I lift my gaze to the top of the rock face and see the flicker of flames. I also hear the clashing of swords and the grunts of men as they fight.

‘RUN!’ bellows a man from above. ‘JUST GO, ILIANA!’

‘JUMP!’ screams the woman, swimming to the rock face and attempting to climb it. Her long dress is waterlogged, and drags her back down. She must be highborn. Or married to a man of station as it’s a hefty-looking dress with jewels and gold sewn into it. It’s a shroud of death if she keeps it on. But its weight doesn’t stop her from desperately trying.

‘Jump, Jakob!’ she bellows. ‘Jump, my love! NOW!’

Her fingernails tear as she claws at the rocks in desperation, but the rock face is too steep to climb. Even without the weight of her elegant gown, she would never make it.

I see then that her left hand is covered in black markings.

Mate markings.

I peer up once more, hearing the cruel, jeering laughs of others as they attack the man named Jakob. Iliana sobs and cries with each whimper and thud of fists on flesh.

Then… there’s a pain-filled cry followed by silence.

‘My Lady?’ sings a cocky voice. ‘Return to your husband, or we will slit this weasel’s throat and leave him here to rot.’

‘Iamher husband!’ wheezes Jakob, struggling and getting punched for his efforts.

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