My mother granted the task to the both of us, and I know it’s another one of her little tests.
Thighs burning, I make it to the highest level, my steps slowing.
Wounded grunts and soft whispering sounds echo from within the chamber at the top. I dart toward the door, pressing my back to the stone wall beside it and softening my breath. A glance shows the turret room inside, dust and dead leaves covering the floor. In the middle of the room is an enormous, twisted mass of fur and sinew.
It looks like a wolf and a lion had a baby.
Or no, not quite.
There are enormous teeth that don’t belong to either animal, and claws that are two inches long. It moves like a man, though its spine is curved like a cat’s, and it loped along on all fours when we were hunting it.
Blood drips from the wound on its flank where my arrow sank between its ribs, and it licks the ravaged wound, wincing a little. The broken shaft of the arrow’s been snapped off, and the creature tries to bite at it, as if attempting to remove it.
The movement’s so familiar that my fingers curl around the knife. The sound it made when my arrow sank into soft gray fur lingers in my memory. A cry. It sounded like a man’s pained cry.
No mercy for the monsters, sneers my mother’s voice.
But is it a monster?
It was fae once, whispers my conscience.
Aye, and now it’s terrorizing local villages.
Year by year, it will lose itself to the curse, until all it craves is blood. All it will hunger for is flesh. There’s no turning back. If the curse hasn’t been broken yet, then I doubt it ever truly will be.
This is mercy.
Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.
My fingers flex around the knife as I creep closer, picking my way between dead leaves.
The creature freezes.
So do I.
“Schmell you,” it whispers, the sound like the skittering of dead leaves. “Coming to finish job.” The word comes from an inhuman mouth, but it freezes me right to the core.
Banes are violent, magic-twisted beasts. There’s no reasoning with them. No means to save them or break the curse. All you can do is put them out of their misery and stop them before they slaughter entire villages.
But this one is fae enough still to speak.
The slight hesitation almost costs me.
The bane lunges toward me, muscle rippling beneath its fur. I drive to the side, blade swinging up. Its claws lash out, smashing my sword to the side. The weight of it slams into me, and then I’m going down. Only pure luck—or years and years of practice with my mother’s swordmaster—mean that my knife drives into its side.
Stupid. So stupid.
As my back slams into the stone floor, I kick my heels up, driving it over the top of me. Lines of heat sear my thigh. Its claws glance off me with the momentum, but if I hadn’t reacted so quickly, they’d be buried in my gut.
Rolling ungracefully to my knees, I scramble for my sword. I have no idea where the knife went. Probably still in its flank.
The bane lashes out, claws swiping my boots from under me. I hit the floor, my hand closing over the hilt as I flip over. Like a turtle on its back, I shove the sword between us, scrambling back across the floor until my back hits the wall.
The beast stretches its spine, eyes glowing an amber gold in the dying afternoon light that pours through the open arch window.
It laughs, a faint, wheezing sound, as it prowls back and forth. “In trouvle now, little fae.”
It’s between the door and me, and even though it’s bleeding heavily, it’s still twice my size. And I’m down a weapon.
Curse it.
I clamber to my feet, forcing my voice full of a false bravado I don’t feel. If in doubt… bluff. “I don’t know. It seems I swapped the knife for a star-forged sword. I’d say I just traded up.”
It snarls and swipes the air threateningly in a mine-is-bigger-than-yours kind of way.
Okay, fine. “Yes, I know. My, what big claws you have….”
One day my mouth is going to get me in trouble.
“Come closer and see dem,” it hisses.
I lunge forward, sword whining as it cuts through the air. Right into the sunlight that streams through the arched window, which blinds me for half a second. The bane avoids the blow, but instead of lashing out and taking advantage of my blunder, it hesitates.
“Prinshess….”
What? My sword hovers in the air. “Do you know who I am?”
Its lip curls as it backs away. “Ish-vien.”
Close enough. I stare at it in horror. There’s only one way it could recognize me by sight. “Who are you?”
“I am loyal, my princhess. I am Evernight,” it whispers, holding up one paw, claws curled inward. “Pleashe. Pleashe don’t hurt me.”
Evernight?
The Kingdom of Evernight is the enemy. Evernight and Thorns have been at war for centuries. How would it know me?
When I was a little girl, I remember playing games of Strategy across from my mother. Each game was a lesson, and if I played well, I would not be punished. It made me wary, thoughtful, hesitant…. And Mother noticed. Trust your instincts, Mother would say, eyes alight upon me. Instinct is the cold kiss of warning that something is wrong, but hesitation is a death knell.
And right now, mine are blaring.
It knows my face. My name. And I swear I’ve never come across an envoy from the Kingdom of Evernight. Mother will barely let us speak its name, let alone encourage mingling.
I lower the sword. “How do you know who I am?”
Movement shifts behind it.
“Don’t move,” says Andraste, stepping inside the room with her bow drawn.
The bane hisses, rising onto two feet, its hackles lifting. Amber fury rolls across its eyes, driving away any last vestiges of its humanity. All that’s left is rage.
“Don’t kill it!” I have to know who it was.
“Did you hit your head? That’s what we’re here to do.”
“Something’s wrong.” I don’t take my eyes off the beast. “How does it know who I am?”
Andraste steps to the side, her bow nocked, the string tight with tension. “Step back, Iskvien.”
Before I can even move, the bane roars and rams me. My sword lands with a clatter as I slam onto the stone floor, the beast leaping over me.
An arrow flashes, and it screams.
Then it’s upon my sister, driving her into the wall. Andraste whirls beneath its lashing claws, swirling her cloak in a flourish that traps them. She ducks free of the fabric, draws the knife from her right boot, and lunges forward.
It should have been an easy kill, but the beast shoves away from the wall and throws her off-balance.
She staggers back, boots clipping against my side and sending her sprawling. We’re both down, scrambling to get out of the way as the enraged monster roars and launches itself toward us.
A hand shoves me in the back as I stagger to my feet, knocking me clear. Claws rake down my arm, spilling blood, but it’s my sister who grunts as she barely deflects a killing blow. My sister who pushed me aside.
Curse her. She wants to steal the glory of this kill, but I need to know how the beast knows who I am.
If it doesn’t kill us first.
There’s no hint of those fae eyes in its monstrous face. Not anymore. Only rage and fury and pain. The beast in ascendancy.