His warm breath feathered across my ear, sending a frisson of terrified excitement down my neck and spine.
I hated it, but I couldn’t help it.
“And then you’ll sacrifice me,” I said. How, I didn’t know. But did it even matter?
He said nothing, just hovered over me, breathing me in.
“This is insane, you know.” Not just the situation—which was actually totally impossibly bananas—but also the attraction I was feeling. I hated it. “You’ve hunted me.”
He pulled back and met my gaze. “For years.”
“How will you survive my death? It’s said that mates are not whole once the other dies.”
“That is for me to worry about.”
I had a feeling that he wasn’t whole now. So what was one more piece removed from him? “How did you find me?”
“Your light, Caera.”
“Claire. I’m called Claire now.”
“By the non-Fae. But that little bit of disguise couldn’t hold up when your light revealed itself.”
Damn it.
My mind flashed back to the moment months ago when I’d been in a fight and an insane golden light had exploded out of me. I still had no idea what it was, but apparently it had allowed this jerk to find me.
“I hate you,” I hissed.
“Not for long.” A devastatingly sexy smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, then he stepped back. He looked past me toward the edge of the room and gestured for someone.
Did he mean I wouldn't hate him for long because I’d fall in love with him? Or because I’d be dead soon?
Didn’t really matter, since I’d be dead either way.
I scooted away from the pillar so I could run if necessary, but two guards were on me in seconds.
“I’ll see you in a bit,” the king said.
The guards grabbed my arms and hauled me off. I struggled, calling upon my fire, but it was banked by their icy magic.
“You bastard,” I spat, raking him with my eyes. “You’ll never succeed.”
“I will.”
Strangely, he didn’t look particularly happy about it.
His face was the last thing I saw as they dragged me toward the dungeons.
5
The Fae dragged me through the icy halls and down wide staircases that were deadly slippery. They moved effortlessly on them, as if they were used to it, but I nearly lost my footing twice.
By the time he shoved me into a small but sumptuous room, I was seething mad. To make matters worse, he took my pack.
I turned to hiss at the door as it slammed in my face. I grabbed the bars that bisected the small window and tried to shake the door. “Let me out!”
There was no reply.
Despite the comfortable furniture and beautiful decor, the room had no windows and a locked door.
A cage.
“Connor!” If I was in the dungeons, he was probably in here, too.
There was no response.
Damn it.
I tried calling upon my magic to burn the door down, but it stayed dormant inside me. I had a few helpful things stashed in a pack in the ether, so I tried reaching into it.
Nothing happened.
The ether was as dead to me as if it didn’t exist.
Of course the dungeons were enchanted to suppress the magic of the prisoners. Any good dungeon would have that feature, and the king didn’t seem like the sort to skimp. He certainly hadn’t skimped on the interior of the horrible little room—plush bed, beautiful couch, thick rugs.
Still, it was a dungeon.
I staggered back from the door, my mind racing.
How the hell was I going to get out?
My back hit the wall, and I sank to my butt. Despite the plush rug, the floor was cold, but I ignored it and tilted my head back against the wall.
“Think, damn it.” My voice echoed in a lonely way.
No ideas came to me—at least, none that were reasonable.
Every single one that I thought of involved tools I didn’t have. There was a tiny window above my head. Though there was no glass in it, there were a few bars that would make it impossible for someone my size to fit out. The fresh sea air filled the cold little room, and I breathed in deeply, the scent reminding me of the king.
It was his face that filled my mind as I finally drifted off to sleep against the icy stone wall.
The images shifted in the way that so often accompanies dreams. One moment, the king was standing in front of me.
The next, I was lying on a slab of ice, the king leaning over me. I cringed away from him, but he was fast, gripping my arm and holding me steady. He raised his other hand, a silver knife glinting evilly in his fist.
Terror exploded within me. When the king brought the knife down, I tried to roll out of the way.
I was too slow. Too weak.
My greatest fear was coming true. That I wouldn’t be able to do what was required of me.
The blade pierced my flesh, sending pain blasting through my body.
I cried out, magic bursting from my form as the silver sank deep.
I was dragged from the dream by a familiar voice echoing in my mind. Hey, wake up!
I jerked, my eyes flaring open and my mind racing.
Icy stone walls met my vision.
I wasn’t in the dream, pinned to the icy slab by a dagger wielded by my mate.
I was here, in the dungeon at the base of his castle, awaiting that fate.
A tiny white fox sat at my feet, blending fairly well with the icy gray of the floor. Are you okay? You seemed like you were having a nightmare.
His voice echoed in my head, just like the voice of the orange fox I’d met earlier.
“Yeah, I was.” I rubbed a hand over my eyes and then dragged it through my hair. “Who are you?”
Puka. We met before.
“I met an orange fox before.”
Did you, though?
He asked it in a mysterious voice, but I wasn’t having any of it. “Yeah, I did.”
Fine. You did. It was me. I have camoufox.
“Camoufox?”
He nodded. Like camouflage, but for foxes.
“Sure, why not.” My day had been crazy enough. I was down for some camoufox help. “But how did you get in here?”
He looked up at the little window. Through there. My other ride is an owl.
“That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
Don’t worry your pretty head about it. Now what’s your plan for escape?
“My magic doesn’t work.” I eyed the metal lock on the door. “My pack was taken from me. Can you get it?”
Too big.
“I have lock-picking tools in the pack. Those are small. Can you get those at least?”
I can try. Give me a bit. The little fox looked up at the window. Can you put me up there?
I stood and picked him up. He was lighter than I’d expected, and it was easy to lift him up to the windowsill. He perched on the stone between the bars for half a second, then leapt out the window.
“What a weirdo.” I didn’t have a huge amount of faith that he could retrieve my tools, but maybe I’d get lucky.
I turned back to the door just as the handle twisted.
I braced myself, ready to lunge at whoever entered—the king, hopefully. I’d steal his dagger and end him here and now.
But it was just the guard. He held a cloak in his hands, a silver blue thing that looked warm and cozy.