City of Fae

“Okay.” The river of spiders flowed toward the closed main door. “Right. So, plan B it is then.”


“Alina …” Shay gripped the bars and peered at me with wide, hopeful eyes. A few drops of blood from the cut at her neck had spoiled the white lace dress. Maybe, once I was gone, she’d find a way to make it work with Reign. “Stop her.”

“That’s plan B.”





Chapter Twenty-five


I had no idea why a small swarm of spiders had decided to latch onto me, but as long as we were on friendly terms, I was happy to have them tag along.

Shoving open the main door, the FA guard posted outside had time to launch himself to his feet and draw a short sword before the spiders poured over him. I watched, caught somewhere between morbid fascination and horrified revulsion. They dove in through his mouth, ears, and nose and burrowed into his eyes. He collapsed in seconds, limbs twitching beneath the blanket of writhing arachnids. Had they attacked me in my cell, I didn’t doubt for a second I’d have ended up like him.

“Okay, team …” But they trickled away, spilling into nooks and crannies between tiles and concrete blocks. In less than a minute, they’d gone, their countless legs had pattered blood around the mess that remained of the FA guard. Cringing, trying to keep my stomach from lurching, I bent down and plucked the fae’s sword free of the fleshy mess that had once been his hand. Mental note: Don’t mess with the spiders.

The short sword appeared to be more functional than fancy. Weighted well, I gave it a whirl. Yes, this would do nicely. It felt right at home to be brandishing a blade.

“Why do you wish to hurt me? I created you …”

“I’m coming … bitch.” With each step she worked on the thread in my mind, attempting to weave her magic through my thoughts, but it wasn’t working. And it wouldn’t work. There’s more to you than her will. Reign was right. I was Alina. A sparkling thrill surged through my veins, a power all my own.

“How did you escape?”

Fae Authority. Female. Black and red. I lunged lightning fast. She had enough time to reach for her blades before I plunged the sword through her chest. She blinked down at me, tiny little Alina O’Connor, in her human look-alike flesh, and even though her blood poured over my hand and bubbled from her lips, she couldn’t quite believe this pitiful human girl could kill her. She died not believing it. Wrenching the sword free, and wiping the blade on my pink leggings, I snatched her dagger and walked on, thoughts unerringly calm. They thought the queen was the nightmare beneath London, but she wasn’t the only one. Dagger in my left hand, sword in my right, head clear, I’d never been more comfortable in my skin. I was made for this. A vicious smile hooked into my lips. They were all going to die down here. And once I was done with them, I’d face my mother.

That part of me, the part made from purpose alone, clicked into place and settled right where it belonged. Complete, I stalked the tunnels, still me, still Alina, but something else too, something more: vengeance and absolution, like the blades in my hands. When the FA burst from the tunnels and came at me, I looked through them, seeing only my purpose. Faster, I let the blades talk for me. Potent draíocht surged in my veins. All I had to do was allow it. I cut the FA down, one after another, and with each death, the old draíocht breathed new life into my manufactured body. I drew it in from the fallen fae, like drawing breath into my lungs. Human, I was not. But these fae weren’t kin either. I was something else entirely. Something built for a single, terrible purpose.

“You will not stop her.” I recognized that voice from the night I’d met Reign. The general’s stilted words summoned me back from the killing frenzy. I straightened, rolled my shoulders, cracked my neck and turned. Blood dripped from my fingers and streamed down the blades. The sickly metallic smell of blood and gore hung in the air. I stood at the center of a massacre of my own making. Somewhere inside my mind the voice of sanity screamed, but I silenced it.

The general stood between me and the iron door to the queen’s reservoir. “You can’t stop me.”

His storm-gray eyes narrowed to slits. “Foolish girl. This”—he gestured at the bodies—“just delays the inevitable.”

I spread my arms. “You see me now, don’t you, General? You see what I am. And I’ve come for her.” I pointed the dagger over his shoulder at the closed door beyond.

His thin smile flickered. “She has excelled herself with you.”

“She failed. I’m the result. Now get out of my way, or die like the others.”

“You’re perfect.”