Home > Beyond the Mountain (Fae's Captive #4)(8)

Beyond the Mountain (Fae's Captive #4)(8)
Author: Lily Archer

I have to give it to him. He’s trying to win me over with this “our” business. But what he wants to sell me is an evil empire with him as its king. No, thank you. “Look, you don’t know me. I’m just a human—well, I guess a fae?—See? I don’t even know what I am. I’m not evil. I don’t want to take over the world. War sounds horrible.” I cringe away from him a bit more with each word. “I just want to be me.” And I want to be with Leander. I dare not speak that aloud, not when Shathinor has made clear that Leander is on his “Murder ASAP” list.

“You want to be you?” He pulls me closer, the scent of rot wafting to my nose. “That’s what I’m offering. I can give you that. You can finally be yourself. Your true self.”

“But I already am. I’m happy like this. Like a human, more or less.”

“You’re a high fae,” Cenet practically spits. “Not a human.”

Shathinor’s white face crinkles a bit. “Don’t mind your brother. He’s just a tad jealous now that you’ve come to claim what’s yours. He thought he’d be the one to rule with me. But he’s a lesser fae, his mother a spoil of war. I enjoyed her but didn’t intend for her to bear a child.” He gives him a deathly glare. “But here we are.”

I swallow hard as Cenet’s eyes slit even more narrowly. “One big, happy family.”

“Besides, he doesn’t have your gifts.” Shathinor takes my hand and holds it out. “Death lives in these fingertips and in your heart. You can take life with a whisper, with nothing more than the scantest touch.”

“If that were true, Cenet would be toast by now.” I pull my hand away. “I’m not who you think I am. I mean, maybe I’m your daughter. It’s not like I can do a DNA test and find out. But that doesn’t mean I’m, you know …”

“Bad?” he offers, then smiles, his fangs even longer than I remember. “Bad is relative, my dear heart. Think about it. How were you treated in the summer realm? Did you fare well there?”

Imprisoned in a filthy dungeon, threatened, enslaved, smacked around, and almost murdered. I shrug. “I guess it could have been better.”

“So many of those lesser fae and changelings that the summer realm mistreats? They’re here.” He stares down into the valley. “Both realms downgrade their lesser fae and changelings. Both realms commit grave sins against them. That’s why they come here. To take their place in Arin, to gain equality. I have given them a way to fight for what they want.”

I hold up a finger. “Hang on. I’m confused.”

His jaw twitches, and he speaks in a painfully patient tone. “Why is that?”

“Just like, an hour ago, you said that changelings were pets and that lesser fae were … lesser. So why would you help them?”

“Oh.” He laughs, and I think some part of me dies at how ugly it is. Lowering his voice, he speaks in my ear. “They are a means to an end. Once they’ve overrun the realms and claimed their victory, I will take over and reorder everything the way it should be.”

“The way it should be? And how’s that?” I have a feeling I already know.

“High fae should always rule these lands and use lesser fae and changelings as servants and laborers. Their lives are disposable. Why else would I want an army full of them?”

I glance over the precipice. “And what if I don’t want any part of this?”

Cenet hisses and crosses his arms over his chest. “She isn’t worthy. I told you, Father.”

“Silence!” Shathinor’s yell seems to come from all around and echoes off the mountainside.

I shudder and try to pull away, but he keeps me tucked under his arm.

“It is time for you to evolve, dearest one.”

“What?” I wrap my arms around my middle.

“This mortal form isn’t you.” He turns me around to face him, my back to the abyss.

“It’s me.” I look down at myself. “Same old me.”

“Not quite.” He tilts my chin up, then focuses on the soulstone.

“What are you—” I jolt as he holds his hand over it, green electricity crackling around me in bursts of lightning.

“Hold still, my heart.” He winces and takes the stone in his hand. “The magic told me this will hurt both of us.”

“Stop.” I can’t breathe, my lungs flat as a sensation like being sucked through a vacuum compresses the air around me. “Don’t.”

He pulls at the stone, the electricity growing and lifting me off my feet.

“Let go.” My eyes water, pain ricocheting through me, my ears burning, my back ripping apart. “Please!” I scream, agony destroying me at a cellular level.

“Almost there,” he grits out, his black brows drawing together as if he’s under great strain.

“Stop!” My cry erupts in a burst of black sparks. Everything in me constricts, pulling in on itself. It feels like being born. Or dying. Maybe both all rolled into one. Pain and rebirth and the approaching promise of death.

With a yank, he pulls the stone off me, the chain breaking as he stumbles back. The green lightning expands outward, and agony bursts through me, blasting away my thoughts, my heart, and my soul in one searing explosion that ends in a comfortable, easy darkness.

“Daughter?” Shathinor’s voice comes to me as if from a great distance. “Daughter?”

I breathe in, the first gasp of a newborn, and blink my eyes open.

Everything is more. The fine grains of black sand on the stone, the scent of smoke on the air, the sound of the breeze playing along the outcroppings of rock.

I am more. I unfurl from my place on the ground and rise to my feet. Dark wings fan out behind me, the edges dancing with the wind as I reach up and feel the pointed tips of my ears.

The world is sharp. So am I. I stretch out my arms, my fingernails hard and curled like talons.

“It’s you.” Shathinor’s eyes light with awe as he comes to stand by my side.

“Kneel!” he yells, and all the soldiers follow his command, taking a knee and keeping their eyes down.

Only Cenet remains on his feet.

I point my long claw at him and bare my fangs. “Kneel, Brother.”

His slitted eyes widen. “Father—”

My claws are at his throat before he can say more. “I. Said. Kneel.” Blood runs onto my fingers, the tang of his life salting the air as death flows through his veins, streaking his flesh with black. The death I wield, the fate I hold in the palm of my hand.

I strip the obsidian blade from him.

The hatred that swirls in his eyes is like a fine wine, one that hits my palate just right. I like his hate. I want more.

He bends his knees, dropping to the stone as I step back and stand next to my father.

I flick the blood from my claws into the dark wind that whispers its thanks. “Now, Father. Tell me more about this war.”

 

 

6

 

 

Leander

 

 

The winter wind carries us to the western edge of my realm, the Gray Mountains looming in the distance. Kyrin hates flying, and taking so many through the skies drains my magic, but there is simply no time to wait, not when Taylor needs me.

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