Page 7 of Wrath of the Fae

The glow of the fire torch gets brighter, and a man peers over the edge of the rockface.

Not just a man.

I fill with anger as I see the white tunic and gold armour decorated with an eye on the chest.

First Kingdom soldiers. The same men who devastated two villages this afternoon.

He looks at her and chuckles.

‘Where do you think you are going, My Lady? You have nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Now stop this foolishness and return to your Lord and Master.’

‘He is neither my Lord nor my Master!’ Iliana spits back. ‘Jakob is my Mate. We are Mated and married.’

‘Not any more. You are My Lord’s wife now, and he wants you back. Come, or I will kill this peasant.’

‘Kill me!’ Jakob demands out of sight. ‘Iliana, run!’

But she stays firm, clinging to the rocks.

The First Kingdom soldier withdraws a sword.

‘As you wish, My Lady,’ he sighs, facing her lover.

‘No!’ she screams, clawing once more at the rocks. ‘Wait!’

The soldier peers down at her again.

‘I… I will come with you,’ she pants.

‘And you will submit?’ pushes the soldier. ‘You will submit to your new husband in all ways? Because as yet, you have not consummated your union.’

‘I… I will. Let Jakob go free, and I will.’

‘Because, you know, your husband does not like it when you scream and struggle.’

‘I’ll submit,’ she repeats sadly. ‘I swear it. I won’t fight him anymore.’

I feel that rage in my chest triple in size. The water starts to vibrate around me. The rock face cracks and rumbles. I feel my power swell, and as my eyes glow, the soldier sees me in the darkness.

‘What the… who’s there?!’ he demands.

He stretches out the flaming torch. Even Iliana turns to look. All they can see are the golden glow of my eyes peeking out from the water’s surface.

‘What is it?’ asks another soldier, joining the first one at the cliff’s edge.

‘Ready your bow. Shoot to kill,’ orders the other.

I explode from the water, my wings stretching wide as I take flight and soar upwards. They all follow me as my body rises, water dripping from my naked flesh and my wings beating slow and steady at my back. I reach the same height as the First Kingdom soldiers. There are five in total. Two have a man forced onto his knees with a sword held at his throat.

None of them are men I know.

None of them are Reid or Cyrus.

They stare, unblinking, at my wings. From afar, they look solid, like the wings of an enormous bat that shine gold in the light.

They aren’t like that, however.

My wings are dense feathers now. When I’m angry, they become razor-sharp, capable of slicing through flesh, bone and steel. The tips are tinted gold. The more you watch, the more hypnotic they become because the gold seems to dance across the surface.

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