I doze off sometime around late afternoon, but I jolt awake at a loud cracking noise that seems to echo from every direction imaginable.
I automatically try to jump to my feet, but of course, I can’t, so all that happens is I manage to give myself some rope burn. I look around wildly and see all three guys running toward the front of the cabin. They all stop right in front of me, looking up at the sky.
I follow the direction of their gazes and see a strange, shimmering dome above us. As we watch, the once invisible barrier seems to dissolve, starting at the top.
“What’s happening?”
Not-First rounds on me, his jaw and fists clenched, his expression furious. He points a finger in my face as he towers above me, and I can’t help but cower from him. “That’s the barrier coming down, and the only ones who can do that are the high fae,” he snaps, looking at me accusingly. “They’re either sending something else here to kill us, or it has to do with you. So you’d better talk now, demon. Are you doing something for them?”
My eyes widen in shock, and I look back up at the quickly dissipating barrier, watching as the shimmering dome recedes. I feel all the blood drain from my face. If the high fae find me, they’ll imprison me and probably execute me.
I look back at him and my voice becomes shrill. “Please, don’t let them find me!” I plead. “If they find me, they’ll kill me,” I tell him. The guys behind him share a look, but I know the decision will be left up to him. “Please, Ronak,” I say.
It’s the first time I’ve called him by his name to his face, and his gaze sharpens. Tears pool in my eyes and my voice cracks, revealing my desperation.
He studies me for a moment, kneeling down before my face. We’re only inches away, and his dark gaze bores into me like he’s trying to dig up every single thought in my head. If it would make him realize I’m telling the truth, I’d let him.
Whatever he sees in my expression solidifies his decision. He reaches back to his holster and grabs his dagger, and for one second I think he might just slit my throat right here and now and be rid of me. But I let out a huge sigh of relief when he cuts through the ropes instead.
He hauls me up roughly to my feet, a firm grip on each of my arms. “I’ll fucking kill you if you’re lying to me,” he growls in my face. I have zero doubt he’d follow through with his threat. “Get into the outhouse and stay there. Do not make a noise, do not move, and do not come out until one of us comes to get you, do you understand?”
All I can do is nod nervously. Quickly, he leads me towards the outhouse. Ronak opens the door and shoves me inside, slamming it shut again without a word as he rejoins the guys.
I squat down on my knees, careful to keep my wings pulled tight against my back. There’s not a lot of room in here.
From my squatted position, I peer through a crack in one of the boards. After some maneuvering, I manage to just barely see half of Evert’s face and Ronak’s arm and leg.
I wait for a long time, and so do the guys. Sweat drips between my shoulder blades and beads on my forehead. There isn’t a lot of airflow in this small confined space, and the smell isn’t exactly pleasant, either.
I don’t know how long I stay huddled in the outhouse, but I finally hear the sound of twigs cracking under heavy footsteps. I can’t be sure how many have come, but it’s definitely more than a few.
I hear a new voice call out. “Covey Fircrown, I see you’re right where we left you,” the man’s voice says. His tone is gloating, like the guys being banished here is entertaining to him. “How long has it been now? Nearly five years? My, my how time flies,” the man laughs, and it’s a mean, humorless sound.
“What do you want, Chaucel?” Ronak asks, sounding bored.
“Why do you assume I want anything? Perhaps I’ve just come to see what you’ve been reduced to before you head to the royal culling trials. I do like a good slow-burn banishment to really break a soul down before the tribunals.”
“We are neither reduced nor broken,” Ronak replies, his voice like steel. “My covey doesn’t break.”
“Hmm. We shall see.”
The man steps closer to the guys, and I can finally see him—well, part of him, at least. Unlike the guys’ golden or pale skin, his skin tone is pastel green. His hair is a much darker shade and is pulled back in a metal clasp at his back, and he’s wearing a long, dark green robe. When he turns to look at Ronak, I clamp a hand over my mouth.
It’s him.
The high fae advisor to the prince. The one who was there that day I attacked Prince Elphar.
My heart pounds in my chest, but I force myself to take steadying breaths. The last thing I want is for this man to find me. He saw me when the prince slammed his magic into me and made me physical. There was a moment, when our eyes locked, right before I hightailed it out of that room. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s here for me.
His next words steal the breath from my throat. I see him turn to look over his shoulder. “Search the premises.”
I realize with a lurch that there are guards with him. Lots of them.
“What’s this about, Chaucel?”
Chaucel turns back to look at him as three guards stream past, heading toward the cabin. I soon hear them knocking things over inside, crashing furniture to the ground in their search.
“The prince…misplaced something,” Chaucel answers elusively. “We’re searching the surrounding islands for it.”
Yep. The “it” is definitely me. Ronak is going to give me over. He’s going to point in my direction and Chaucel will send the guards my way. Why wouldn’t he? He has no loyalty to me. He’s already been banished. I don’t know what would happen if Chaucel were to discover that Ronak was hiding me. Ronak wouldn’t put his covey’s life in danger like that. Not for me.
I steel myself and crouch on the balls of my feet, flexing my wings a bit. I have to be ready to flee. I might not get away, but I have to try.
I see Ronak cross his huge arms in front of his chest. He’s not wearing a shirt, and his golden skin glistens, like its sole purpose is to highlight his muscles. “Nothing can get on or off this island. Not with the barrier in place,” he says. “You know that, Chaucel.”
“I do. And I also know that strange magic is on this island. I can feel it. And if I find out that you’re hiding what Prince Elphar seeks…well, let’s just say that the culling would seem like a reprieve compared to the execution he’ll sentence you to. It will be slow.
‘It will last for days and days, maybe even weeks. Every time you beg for it to end, we will stop, and a healer will come. And then when you’re healed, we will start all over again. You will go mad with pain. You and the rest of your covey,” Chaucel says with menace. “But you, Ronak, you will go last. You will see each of your men succumb. And only when you are on your knees, kissing the prince’s feet and begging, will he let you die.”
Good gods. This guy really has a thing against Ronak. His threats nearly make me pee my pants right there, and he’s not even talking about me.
But Ronak simply shrugs at him. The cheeky bastard. “You always did have an overactive imagination. But I can tell you right now, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but if it were up to me, I’d make sure you never found it,” Ronak says, taking a step forward threateningly. “As for the kissing, well, sorry to disappoint, but you’re really not my type.”
My heart stutters. Ronak is…not going to give me over. I can’t believe it. I have no idea why, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. At least not until he’s done chewing. Maybe he just hates Chaucel more than he hates me. Whatever the reason, I’ll take it.
Chaucel also takes a step forward, until he and Ronak are nearly nose-to-nose. He says something that I can’t catch, but I see Ronak’s fist clench at his side. Chaucel takes a step back with a satisfied smirk. “Guards, keep searching. I want every rock unturned. The prince is nothing if not thorough.”
I snort. Yeah, he’s thorough all right. He thoroughly made his way through every female Fae he came into contact with, leaving no skirt unturned, not caring who he hurt or how he abused his position of power. Pig.
It takes a while for them to continue searching. I can hear guards walking around every once in a while, and every time, I panic that they’ll open the door to the outhouse. But so far, so good. Maybe the smell is enough of a deterrent. It’s certainly strong enough.
My wings are sore from being stuffed in the tight space, and my leg muscles have cramped up from my squatted position on the floor. Leave, leave, leave. I plea silently.
I see two of the guards return, shoving past the guys to face Chaucel. They have similar bluish skin, but are wearing armor and holding swords. “Nothing in the house or garden,” one of the guards reports. “And nothing along the perimeter either.”
“Fine,” Chaucel says, looking unsurprised but still disappointed. He swivels his neck around, and then I swear, he looks right at me, even though the outhouse is somewhat hidden between the trees. Even though I don’t think he can actually see me through the cracks, I don’t dare move or breathe.
“What’s that?” Chaucel asks, pointing in my direction.
“Our shit shack,” Evert answers. I know it’s him speaking, even though I can’t see him. I also know that by the sound of his voice that he’s wearing a shit-eating smirk. “So unless you want one of your guards to wipe your ass for you, I’d say it’s time for you to leave our island.”
Well. That would’ve made me laugh under different circumstances. You know, like when I’m not hiding for my life in said shit-shack. I lift a silent prayer to Eros that Chaucel takes Evert’s bad attitude in stride and leaves.
Chaucel steps forward, probably to get into Evert’s space. “I see you still haven’t learned to train your pussy cats, Ronak. Search it,” he says over his shoulder, and my stomach plummets right down to my toes.
Oh, shit.
