She will crush them all, then bathe in their blood before she ruptures free of this cage and hunts this Rekk, smothered in the grume of his fallen brethren.
There’s a sharp pinch in her right shoulder, and the clamorous tunes penetrating her small, fragile eardrums hush.
Gone.
The Other frowns.
The wet groans of dying fae would be music to her ears if she weren’t familiar with this particular form of silence.
She slaps her hand on the back of her shoulder, fingering the stinging puncture, frowning when the tips come away with the smell of her precious host’s blood—eyes widening as she realizes she’s been shot.
With iron.
She spins toward the barred entryway, gaze narrowing on the fae behind it armed with a slingshot that rests against the bars.
Pointed at her.
Tossing a black hood off his head, the male shucks his cloak to reveal black leather pants and a loose white shirt that’s partially undone at the neck.
The Other takes in his long pale hair and cerulean eyes. The stick of rolled parchment pinched between his lips leaking smoke that wafts around his face.
The red and brown beads hanging from his lobe.
Most of all, she notes the lax confidence in the way he holds himself—hip resting against the edge of the tunnel like he’s enjoying the scenery.
Nostrils flared, The Other tips her head and draws deep, catching a hint of his leathery, smoke-ridden scent. The same dense smell on the dagger still tucked in her sheath.
The veins in her temple and throat bulge, jaw trembling with her welling rage.
Rekk Zharos.
“You’re the one who killed our Essi,” she growls, her voice a graveled discord of strained vocals and feral disposition.
“The little redhead?” Rekk drawls, pulling the weapon from the bars and dumping it on the ground. Snagging the smoking stick between his lips, he draws a deep breath, his next words a thick pour of white. “She screeched like a strangled bird when I slid that blade into her gut.”
The Other sneers, charging toward the bars.
“Stisssteni tec aagh vaghth—fiyah,” Rekk spits past curled lips, as if the words burned a trail up his throat before they singed free.
Flames stream from the remaining torches, ribbons of it now churning around The Other in billowing swirls that nip too close to her vulnerable skin, capturing her in a fist of fire impossible to escape. Not without a Fleshthread nearby to mend the burns she would endure.
Hands crunching into fists, she studies Rekk’s every move: the fluttered pulse in his neck; the way his lean body shifts as he unlocks the bars and swaggers into the cavern, sharp features lit by the churning flames; the bloody spurs on the backs of his boots rattling every time he steps.
His eyes glint with sadistic satisfaction while he takes The Other in, then the bloody mess she made of his comrades.
He clicks his tongue, pale brows inching up his forehead. “Impressive.”
The Other snarls, leaning dangerously close to the roaring inferno while sweat gathers on her brow and down the line of her spine. Teeth bared, she froths for his blood. For the feel of his flesh shredding between her teeth, dismal as they are.
Rekk presses the smoke stick between his lips, draws a languid puff, then flicks the butt away and pulls a coiled whip from where it’s tethered to a hook at his hip. With a twitch of his wrist, the black tendril snaps through the blaze, binding The Other in a rigid embrace that secures her arms to her sides, legs clamped together. As if cocooned by some silk-threading creature preparing her for feasting.
She falls to her knees, hissing sharp breaths while Rekk charms his flames toward the torches lining the walls. Releasing her from the fiery swirl, though bringing her no closer to the freedom she lost.
She lost.
Rekk snatches the bloody veil, exposing her. His eyes widen as she snarls through clenched teeth, jerking against her binds.
She.
Lost.
“Not at all what I was expecting,” Rekk murmurs, frowning. His hand comes forward, knuckles grazing her cheek. “Seems a shame to feed such a pretty, powerful thing to the dragons …”
With a snap of her teeth, she snags his finger and bites.
Hard.
Rekk roars, trying to yank his hand free. The remaining soldiers bellow, charging toward their growling prisoner while she gnaws through the knobbly knuckle with the fervor of a famished beast.
It pops free, the severed tip dropping into her mouth.
Rekk stumbles back and lifts his trembling hand to his face, blood streaking down his arm. Onto the ground.
Drip.
Drip.
She spits the tip, boasting a smile that’s all teeth and blood.
Rekk blinks, stark eyes focusing on the gory stub before he tips his head and roars with laughter, abusing the sound until it’s bruised and weary.
The Other’s smile falls.
Rekk locks eyes with her again, crunches his bloody, disfigured hand into a ball, pulls his arm back, and swings his fist at her face.
A blinding explosion of pain before darkness consumes her.
It’s freezing on the outskirts of Netheryn, but for a Moonplume egg to incubate, it must stay right here in the cold until it starts to rock. Then I must pack clumps of ice around it and wait for the hatchling to free itself from the shell.
I must do all this on my own because Haedeon can’t. Because I found him sleeping at the bottom of a crevice, cuddling his stolen Moonplume egg, unable to move his legs.
I shook him awake. Told him I’d get Mahmi and Pahpi. He said I’d die if I took the sleigh home myself. That his egg would die, too.
That really worried me.
The sleigh can’t make it up this far, so I built a snow hut to keep Haedeon safe and warm while he sleeps himself better. Then I made three trips to the hatching hut on my own and moved all our things.
I shook Haedeon awake again and told him I’ll try really, really hard to drag him out into the cold when his Moonplume starts to hatch so he can bond with it. He touched my face, told me he loves me and that he’s glad I snuck onto his sleigh, then fell back into a really deep sleep.
He’s doing lots of sleeping. I’m starting to worry he won’t wake. That his chest will suddenly stop moving.
The thought makes my own chest hurt. Makes me want to cry.
I won’t. I refuse. I have to be strong for Haedeon because he can’t be strong for himself.
But if he doesn’t wake, I’ve decided I’m not going home. I can’t get him on a sleigh, and I won’t leave him here in the cold and the dark on his own. He hates being alone, and he really hates the dark.
I miss Mahmi and Pahpi.
I’m immersed in an icy sleep that’s soft like a wispy tail bound around my body, drifting within the tide of nothingness.
Beautiful, hypnotic nothingness.
Until something snaps close to my ear, ripping me to the surface and dumping me into the aching scream of reality.
Hot, hurting, heavy reality.
My ankles are shackled, and all my weight hangs from my wrists that are tied together, stretched skyward, my shoulders threatening to pop from their sockets. The right one’s pinned with a piercing hurt that makes me certain I’ve been stabbed or poked with something still lodged in the bone.
The pain is a drip in the barrel of aches tormenting every muscle in my body, like I’ve been wrung at all angles then shaken out like a washcloth. Even my jaw and gums ache like I’ve been gnawing on something dense and chewy while my consciousness was huddled somewhere far away from the Essi-sized ache in my heart.
Running my tongue across my teeth, I feel a stringy piece of … something wedged in the hairline gap between my sharp canine and the tooth right next to it.
Shivering, I decide I’d rather not know what that is.
I’m only able to pry one of my lids upward, the other a swell of pain, my eyeball throbbing.
I groan, taking in my smudged surroundings through bloody ropes of hair. My leather sheaths and bandolier are lumped on the floor in a pile not too far away, most of my weapons missing.
Fuck.