Fallon remained limp with her eyes closed as the female demon carried her up the stairs that had been chiseled into the side of the wall.
She’d awakened shortly after they’d entered the caverns, but sensing the spell that was wrapped around her, she’d forced herself to feign sleep. Any attempt to free herself from the choking grasp would trigger the death magic.
Her only choice was to remain motionless and wait until the spell was removed. Then she could hopefully catch the demon off guard and escape.
Smoke filled her lungs as they reached a level surface. There was a fire near. And something else . . . blood.
She struggled not to react as the demon came to a halt and rudely dropped her onto the hard floor. Her head banged sharply against a rock, but it was worth the pain as she felt the spell being jerked away from her.
Before she could even think of launching an attack, however, there was the scent of an approaching human male.
“Shackle her to the wall and take your place in the Council Room,” the male commanded.
Shit. It had to be the druid.
Forced to maintain her charade, she was roughly yanked across the floor. If they believed her to be unconscious, they might leave her alone to . . .
That hope was brought to a brutal end as she felt a pair of iron shackles being snapped around her wrists.
Crap.
Iron was one thing that affected fey.
It not only dampened their magic, but it made it impossible for them to create a portal. And, with prolonged contact, it could even kill them.
Thankfully, as a Chatri, the effects were limited on her, but it would definitely make it more difficult to escape.
Because things just aren’t challenging enough, she wryly acknowledged.
She swallowed her groan of pain as the iron seared her skin, a heavy sense of lethargy spreading through her body. In the distance she heard the female demon leaving the cave, but instead of joining her, the druid contrarily crossed to stand next to her.
Dammit.
The scent of smoke and blood and foulness nearly gagged her as she felt the tip of a boot nudge her shoulder.
“Very convincing, my sweet.” The voice was cultured with just a hint of an Irish brogue. “But I know you’re awake.”
Snapping her eyes open, Fallon shoved herself into a seated position. If helpless didn’t work, then maybe she could try intimidation.
She tilted back her head, studying the man who hovered over her.
Surprise flared through her.
This was the deadly enemy who threatened to destroy the demon world?
He looked like a . . . nobody.
Just another human with a round face and fringe of brown hair.
Of course, she knew as well as anyone that appearances could be deceptive.
You didn’t have to be a hulking warrior to wield enormous power.
Just look at Siljar.
Shaking off her sense of disbelief, she forced herself to meet his cold gaze as she assumed her best princess manner.
“Release me,” she ordered, her voice ringing through the small cave as she took a swift, covert glance around the barren cave.
There wasn’t much to see except for the small altar in the center of the floor, but it was enough to make her heart clench with fear.
On top of the altar a fire was burning with a strange blue light.
Magic.
He was in the middle of casting his spell.
“A true Chatri,” the druid murmured, crouching down as he studied her with a mocking curiosity. Like she was some bug he’d captured and pinned to the wall. Sicko. “I was beginning to think you were a myth.”
She forced a cold smile to her lips. “There will be no mistake we are real when my father arrives.”
“Why should I fear your father?”
“He’s the King of Chatri.”
“Ah.” A shockingly intense hatred flared in his eyes. “So you’re a royal.”
Pure menace crawled over Fallon’s skin. This man not only wanted her dead. He wanted her to suffer.
She squashed the urge to panic. Cyn was depending on her.
Hell, the entire demon world was depending on her.
This was her chance to do that big, important thing she’d always dreamed of doing, she desperately told herself. The opportunity to make her life matter.
Right?
All she needed to do was to keep him distracted for a few minutes so she could gather her power.
“My father will kill you,” she said, scooting until her back was pressed against the wall and her hands draped to the side of her body to hide them from the creepy druid.
A human shouldn’t be able to see the glow of her powers, but he was clearly more than just another mortal.
“Demons are no match for me,” he boasted, thankfully too bloated with his own sense of self-importance to wonder at Fallon’s distraction. “Especially not that bastard Sariel. I hope he does come. I would dearly love to watch him die.”