“Uh, yeah. That’s what I said.”
At the end of the hall, just in front of the pixie, a massive door groaned open. Swinging his scepter, the pixie led us through the doorway into a room with towering, arched ceiling. Images of Taru moved over the walls, though there wasn’t much else in here. Just Taru, everywhere. Always triumphing over some beast, always watching us from behind electrified eyes.
At the other end of the hall, another doorway led to a terrace. Rain and lightning lashed outside, some of the spray and the wind reaching inside.
The pixie banged his scepter on the stone floor, then his voice boomed over the hall. “The knights of the Institute of the Storm Fae.”
The other fae began lining up, and I fell into line with them.
One by one, the knights entered the hall. They all wore cloaks in sky hues—pewter and periwinkle, cauldron-gray flecked with silver streaks—each adorned with lavishly embroidered patterns.
I’d heard about the knights of the Institutes. If this was a guild of assassins, they were its workforce, its agents of death; silent and beautiful killers. They rode out into the wild to hunt down wayward supernaturals like me, to bring us back to the fortresses. Usually, the magical outlaws were never heard from again—sacrifices to the seven gods.
The magic rippling off the knights electrified my skin, like a wave of radiating heat.
Out of all of them, a female knight stood out the most. A black bodice covered in razor-sharp scales hugged her curves and stood out sharply against her pale skin. A midnight cloak hung from her shoulders, fading to pewter gray at the end. Indigo satin gloves stretched from her fingertips all the way to her elbow. Looking a little more closely, I could tell her gloves were also covered in tiny scales, each gleaming like the smallest of razorblades.
For just a moment, I felt a sharp pang to be one of them. What would it feel like to live here, elegant and powerful?
But my admiration for the knight’s clothing was cut short by the fact that she was staring right at me like I was food, her emerald eyes predatory. She licked her lips and grinned.
Then, I saw him as he crossed into the hall—the Nathair. Tallest among them, he absorbed all the attention in the room the way a black hole sucks in light. Maybe it was the way none of them were standing immediately beside him, the way even other knights gave him a wide berth as they walked. Maybe it was the breathtaking power of his magic.
Were the knights scared of the dragon-blood, too? Maybe. Knights weren’t invincible. A clean hit from an iron dagger, and they’d crumple and die. But the Nathair probably didn’t even need iron. He could just shred them.
The knights assembled in a line to match ours and stared at us from across the divide, silent. They watched us like expressionless statues.
The pixie banged his scepter again.
Then, from outside—one last knight whooshed into the room, moving as if riding the wind. An iron-gray cloak billowed around him, writhing like storm clouds. He touched down before the line of knights. A spiky, silvery crown rested on his hoary head. On his sun-kissed face, he wore a fatherly look. He had high cheekbones, almond eyes the color of a stormy ocean, and a full head of nearly white hair, carefully styled into a gravity-defying quiff. A long beard spilled over his chest. Gold hoop earrings glinted from his ears.
He lifted his arms. “Taru’s blessing be upon you.”
At his words, lightning filled the hall, then thunder rumbled off the stone.
“Children of the Storm God, be welcome, and let us rejoice. For today, we have been granted the gift of fresh blood, new faces to join our sacred cause. You are our new unsworn.”
He seemed … nice. Not what I’d expected from the boss of an assassin’s guild, someone who had his dragon shred people.
From the pocket of his blue waistcoat, he produced a small silver watch and checked the time.
“Unsworn.” He slid the pocket watch back into his waistcoat. “My name is Raegon, and I am the Grand Master of this Institute. As you should all be aware by now, you have been invited here to compete in a series of trials. Through these trials, we will determine who among you is worthy of joining our illustrious guild.”
Invited. Hardly.
“While you are here,” he continued, “you will abide by our rules. Follow them, and your time shall be, dare I say it, enjoyable. Disrespect our knights, disrespect Taru, fail to attend worship when required, and you will feel the wrath of the Storm God. Is that understood?”
The unsworn nodded, and I nodded with them.
“Good.” The Grand Master nodded his approval. “What awaits us now is a ceremony in the presence of Taru himself. As unsworn, you are to be paired with one of the knights in this hall. Then, you shall be split into two houses—the House Leus, and the House Dorcha.”
Ah. The Ancient Fae words for light and darkness.
Here was the thing—the other unsworn didn’t realize it, but the truth was, I could speak Ancient Fae. I wasn’t about to let them know this, though. They thought I was trash from the human realm, and I was smart enough to keep my actual skills under wraps.
Letha shot me a vicious look that made my skin crawl. I thought of her servant’s family, impaled on her palace gates. No reason to let her know any more about me than she needed to. I’d be gone within days, anyway. None of these people mattered. I was here for Wren and Wren alone.
“Unsworn,” Raegon called out. “The two houses will compete against each other. After every trial, the losing house loses its weakest member until only the finest candidate remains. Now, follow the knights to the terrace, where we may begin.”
The others began to move like a procession, hands clasped and heads bowed. My gaze flicked to the strange beauty of the Nathair’s cloak—a deep silver shot through with black streaks.
As the knights stepped outside in their fine cloaks, the unsworn pulled up their cowls against the cold and lashing rain.
I walked onto the stone terrace with the others, clouds churning around us like a living thing. I had no cloak, so when I stepped outside, nature’s full force hit me hard. The wind whipped at my peachy hair; rainwater soaked through to my skin. The cold had my teeth chattering.
The unsworn and the knights, though? The rain wasn’t a problem for them. Not in the slightest. It was like the water didn’t stick to the fabrics they’d wrapped themselves in; it just rolled off them. The Nathair and the other knights stood proud, like a storm wasn’t hammering us to the bone.
The knights arranged themselves in a half-circle around the center of the terraces, and the unsworn filled in the rest. Luckily, the Nathair didn’t seem to be part of this. He stood outside the circle, watching. Good. None of us would end up paired with him.
As I hugged myself in the cold, I surveyed the ground beneath us. Rain slammed down on angular shapes carved into the marble floor. Fae runes. I could already feel the magic working through me as I stood over them. The runes enhanced the natural flow of magic in an area, allowing spellcasters access to way more power than usual.
Our white-haired Grand Master strode to the center of the circle and stretched his hands up toward the sky. Lightning flashed in violent arcs, tearing through the clouds. Thunder rattled my ribcage. Taru’s power hummed and buzzed around us, and my body began to feed on it. I felt the hair stand up on my nape, and my back arched.
Looking up, the light pulsing behind the clouds started to play with the shadows. Now, I didn’t feel the rain so much. As I stared at the clouds, a face emerged. My body shook as I realized I was looking into the face of a god. The vision overwhelmed me, and I tore my gaze away from the skies to look at Raegon once more.
“Children of Taru,” the Grand Master intoned. “It is time for you to be matched with your knights. Today, Taru decides your fates. You and your mentor will become intertwined. Master and apprentice. You will learn from each other, you will live together under our roof, and you will discover things about yourself you never thought were there. Who shall stand up and claim the h
onor first?”
Tarvis, the biggest among us, stepped forward.
Of course he did.
Chapter 10
Raegon glided out of the center of the circle, and Tarvis took his place. Rain slid off his green cloak.
“Taru.” The Grand Master stared into the sky. “We present to you a humble servant.”
I snorted, and Raegon glared at me for a moment before continuing.
“We ask that you, in your infinite wisdom, pair him with a knight.”
This time, when the thunder boomed, it seemed closer, trembling the stone beneath our feet. Lightning ignited in the sky around us. Around me, the shadows stretched and lengthened—all but one, that of the man outside the circle. The Nathair’s shadow stretched into something monstrous and winged. A phantom of his dragon form loomed behind him, and it sparked a sharp coil of dread right through my heart. Talons, shredding skin and bone, blood on the marble….
I felt his eyes on me.
When a bolt of lightning struck the stone floor, I felt its power through my skin. The unsworn gasped at the sudden impact, but the knights didn’t flinch. The charge had incited the air with a charred scent—burnt ozone. The strike had scorched a small section of the marble floor, and the runic patterns glowed around the burn marks. A knight stood directly behind the burn marks. He wore an indigo cloak, and his long red hair shone brightly against it. A sword hung at his waist.
He stepped forward.
So that was how Taru matched people….
My fists clenched. Would Taru know that I wasn’t really meant to be here—that I’d come here as a fake? Would the god of storms strike me dead? I shot a nervous glance up at the sky.
Surely, I’d given him enough that he could do me this one favor. He owed me after all I’d done for him.
“As Taru wills it,” the Grand Master said, “so it shall be done. Knight and unsworn, go forth together and prepare as the first to be inducted into House Leus.”
The House of Light, to match his sunny disposition.
Tarvis thumped his chest with his right hand. The knight stepped toward him and did the same. Then the two men crossed out of the circle, heading back into the Institute. Then there were seven knights and seven unsworn. Soon, it was going to be my turn—and I could feel the Nathair’s malicious gaze on me even now.
I watched as Taru paired three more unsworn with their knights, my teeth chattering out of control, body shaking like an oak leaf in a gale. I couldn’t say how long I’d been standing in the storm, only that my fingers and toes were going numb. Ree wasn’t faring too well, either—hunched over, clothes plastered to her skin. Her beautiful blue eyeliner now streaked down her sharp cheekbones.
But whatever my situation, I was doing better than Wren. She was probably in a dank hole right now, eating rats, struggling for breath.
Clarity returned to my senses, and I focused my attention on the Grand Master … whose eyes had fallen on me.
Raegon stretched his hand and smiled at me. “Your turn, child.” He beckoned me closer.
Guess I’ll play along. I stepped into the center. There were only four unsworn and four knights left, including me. Two had gone to House Dorcha—Letha and one other. The other two had gone to House Leus.
I took a deep breath and stood in the center of the circle, rain hammering my skin. The Grand Master then turned his head up to the sky and once again invoked Taru, asking for his guidance and blessing.
The magic of the Storm God thrummed over my skin, then lightning struck hard and fast—incredibly bright. I shielded my eyes. Thunder boomed through my gut. Every muscle in my body felt electrified as bolt after bolt struck the terrace and Taru’s strength filled me to the core.
By the time it was over, the air smelled like burnt ozone and my skin prickled all over with a delicious heat. I opened my eyes and looked around to find that the remaining knights, unsworn, and even the Grand Master had all backed away. All eyes were on me.
Around me, the lighting had burned and cracked the stone, leaving an array of glowing embers pulsing with warm orange light. When I looked up, I saw who Taru had matched me with. And it hadn’t been someone in the circle.
The Nathair. The floor before him had been charred, and runes glowed on the ground in front of his feet. They hadn’t been there before.
He looked sharply at the Grand Master. “What is this?”
Raegon smiled. “Taru’s will.”
“This is absurd,” the Nathair murmured. His pale eyes had darkened to coal.
Agreed. Taru is definitely screwing with us.
The Nathair’s darkened eyes were on me, his face illuminated by the silent lightning igniting the air around us. Him. I’d been paired with him. Good thing I’d be out of here soon.
I glanced at the sky and watched the electrical arcs lash above me, in awe and terrified of what had just happened. Was this actually Taru’s will? Why?
When I looked at the Grand Master, I saw what could only have been described as fear behind the gentle smile on his face. It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t there for long, but I wouldn’t be forgetting that expression anytime soon. Even the Grand Master was afraid of his dragon.
Raegon stepped into the center of the circle, carefully negotiating the burning embers around us by tugging up his cloak. Without any fanfare, he cleared his throat and pointed at the Nathair.
“Taru has spoken,” he said, his voice short and quick. “Cora joins the House Dorcha, with you as her mentor. Go.”
The Nathair looked me up and down, his expression completely dismissive. Without a word, he stalked off. I guess I was supposed to follow him—behind him, like Oren had instructed me.
I followed him through the open balcony and back into the Institute. We were crossing through the hall again, the one with Taru’s image moving across the walls.
Despite the rainwater, adrenaline made my body run so hot I could’ve sworn I was giving off steam.
“Where are we going?” I asked hoarsely.
“I see no reason for you to know anything in advance,” the Nathair said softly, not meeting my gaze.
“Of course not.” The dungeons, perhaps? That would be an extraordinary stroke of luck.
As we approached the next oak door, it swung open with a groan. I followed the Nathair into a long, winding hall. Torch light danced over dark stones, and my skin prickled.
The Nathair struck me as someone who didn’t miss a thing—not a breath taken too quickly, not a hair out of place. It would be bloody hard getting away from him to explore the fortress.
“Why do you think Taru chose us to be together?” I asked. “You weren’t even supposed to be a mentor.”
He turned to me, mouth twitching with the faintest hint of a smile. “Did he match us?”
“Isn’t that what just happened? I saw the lightning.”
“The Storm God does not care about our affairs beyond what we provide for him.” His soft voice sliced through the silence of the long corridor. “He gorges on souls like a pig at a trough and cares for nothing else.”
Blasphemy. I suppressed a shudder. I thought the Storm Fae worshipped Taru?
The Grand Master was obviously pious, a personal servant of Taru. There was iconography everywhere; on the walls, on the clothes, in the freaking sky. I’d even met a reverent sister. This place was a monastery.
Seemed the Nathair wasn’t like the others. Why did they let him stay here?
We reached an ornate wooden door in the hallway, engraved with a fire-breathing dragon. The door opened of its own accord, revealing an expansive chamber—sleek and tidy, with doors that led off into other rooms.
My heart sank. Not the dungeon, then. In fact, I was pretty sure this was the Nathair’s room.
Chapter 11
It really couldn’t have been further from a dungeon.
The Nathair laid his cloak down on a huge bed, its frame black marble that rose from the floor organically. A dragon crest had been embroidered into t
he sheets. Across from the bed, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a stormy sky, streaks of rain falling across their surfaces.
Why was I here?
For one dizzying moment, I wondered what would happen if I blasted the Nathair with the full force of my magic and just ran around searching for Wren. I was powerful—more powerful than anyone here realized. I might not kill him, but I could do some serious damage. Enough to get away from him.
But then what? I had no idea where to go, and I’d be surrounded by assassins. I needed to explore at night, when I was on my own.
Marshaling my calm, I breathed in deeply. Keep your wits about you, Cora.
The scent of ginger bloomed in the air, strangely welcoming. Black marble walls gleamed in the dim light. An oak desk stood in the corner of the room, along with a chair. A sheathed longsword leaned against the chair, the only weapon in the place. While Oren likely had an entire arsenal in his room, the Nathair’s walls were hung with landscape oil paintings—lush vistas, blue skies. In one, a silhouette stood by a pond, casting a shadow. Had he painted them?
On second thought—who cared if he painted them? He planned to shred Wren into lumps of bone and flesh.
My jaw clenched, and I turned away from the wall to survey him. He was pouring himself a measure of whiskey—not offering me any.
I needed to lie low, to keep my intentions hidden, but the fatigue was making it hard to hide my true feelings. Rage was igniting in my chest as I felt less and less control over my situation.
“I hear you shred people.” It came out even sharper than I’d intended.
At least I didn’t stutter.
He leaned against the desk, an amused smile ghosting his lips. I wanted to smack it off the bastard. “Is that right?” he purred.
I crossed my arms, frustration rising. “You tell me. If I fail the trials, will you be ripping me apart as a sacrifice for Taru?”
Darkness slid through his eyes, the smile now completely gone. “Let’s just say I’d advise you not to fail.”
I stared at him—the executioner. The dragon-bloods had been brutal and insane, but they had their own warrior code. At least I thought. My own smile twisted as I looked at him drinking his whiskey in here.
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