“You do realize that I’m not me when I become the beast, right? I’m something else. A monster. You can downplay it all you like, but that doesn’t mean I’m not dangerous. I doubt Prince Taveon would have wanted me to come here and train to fight for him if he thought I was harmless.”
“Prince Taveon...is idealistic. It is a trait that is rarely found in Dark Fae. I imagine he sees this going far differently than it will. That doesn’t make you harmless, Bree. It just means that he’s brought a needle to a sword fight.”
“Whatever.” Bree crossed her arms over her chest. “If you want to think your raven form can stop my beast, then that’s on you. Not me.”
He flashed her a grin. “Close your eyes.”
Bree took a deep breath and followed his orders, though a part of her felt nervous about blocking the fae from her sight. He could do anything while she had her eyes closed, and she would never know it. And, in fact, when her lids fluttered shut, she could hear the whisper of him as he moved closer to her.
His lips pressed against her ear, his breath tickling her warm skin. She swallowed hard and licked her lips.
“First, you must imagine the creature you wish to become,” he murmured in such a soft voice that Bree couldn’t be certain if she’d actually heard the words or if she’d merely conjured them up in her mind.
“If I imagine that I’d like to become a harmless rabbit, then can I become that instead?”
He let out a soft chuckle, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. “I am afraid not. You can only become the creature you are inside, and that, Bree, is the wolf.”
The wolf. It wasn’t so bad when she imagined her creature as a wolf, but that was the closest animal to what she became. She’d always thought of it as a beast or a monster before. Wrong. Scary. Hideous.
Those were always the words she used to describe herself, to describe that thing that lived inside of her. She’d never seen a reflection of herself in that form, but she knew what it looked like regardless. It was an image that was burned into her head, one she knew she’d never shake. Some memories remain forever, an imprint of a life almost forgotten, while others fade into nothing more than fog and smoke. This one, Bree knew, it was one of the permanent ones.
That dark, oily fur that matted together with dirt and grime. Those teeth like sharp and jagged rocks, and the saliva that collected around her jaw, dripping as the hunger took hold. And her eyes. They stayed blue somehow, the only sign of who she really was.
“Are you imagining it, Bree?” Rafferty asked, reminding her of where she was.
“Yes,” she breathed, curling her hands into tight fists. The sight of her own self in her mind was enough to make her body tremble. She hated the beast. She wished it was gone. But if it had left her, she never would have become who she was now—fae.
“Good.” His lips brushed against her earlobe, and she shivered. She swore she could hear his mouth twist into an arrogant grin. “Now, think about what those claws look like. Think about your own hands. Your own fingers.”
It was kind of hard to do that now that he’d made contact. All she could think about was how near he was, how warm his breath felt against her skin, how bright his silver eyes were...eyes she wanted to see.
She opened her eyes and gazed into his. She swallowed hard, her heart flickering in her chest.
The left side of his lips quirked up. “Come on, Bree. I am here to help you. I cannot do that unless you do everything I say.”
“You’re not like Taveon,” she said.
“Prince Taveon,” he said. “And no. The two of us are nothing alike. We come from very different places and have led very different lives. We see the world in different colors.”
“Then, why are you here? Why are you doing what he tells you to do?”
“Because I owe him.” The smile faded away, and he stepped back. “But enough about the Prince. I want to see that beastly form of yours. We will spend all day in here if that is what it takes.”
Bree didn’t understand what it was about Rafferty, but she felt instantly at ease in his presence. It was as if the beast within her recognized him as a fellow shapeshifter, soothing her frazzled nerves and calming the anger that had burned bright ever since she’d stepped foot in the Dark Fae’s realm.
After several attempts, he finally coaxed her soul to transform into her beastly form. Even though she was now “in control” of herself in a way she never had been before she’d taken the Starlight, the beast still roared with bloodlust. In truth, she didn’t think she was fully in control, not like she thought she would be. She could stop herself from becoming the creature, but it was next to impossible to control its actions when it had taken over every cell of her body.
And it was even difficult to force herself to shift. She had a feeling it was because a part of her deep down inside of her soul very much did not want to become the monstrous beast.
But Rafferty’s calm, soothing voice coaxed it out of her.
She stood in the center of the room. Everything looked different when she was a wolf. The whole world was a strange shade of red, and her vision expanded past the corners of her eyes. Smells became stronger, and the tiniest sounds were amplified. Bree focused on Rafferty’s breathing. She could hear every exhale from his lungs and the brush of his tongue across his lips.
Bree blinked at him, her mangy, furry body heaving with every belabored breath. The bloodlust soared through her, causing her lips to curl back to bare her massive teeth. But Rafferty didn’t even flinch.
He merely gave her a smile and said, “Good.”
Chapter 6
Rafferty
“So, how long will it take for her to be ready to be my champion?” Taveon asked as he stared out at the moonrise. Rafe knew his friend had not slept a wink all night. Ever since he’d come back from Otherworld, he’d been different. Distant. Lost in thought. Uneasy. Rafe had asked if he mourned his father, but the Prince had shut that down just as he always did. Truth be told, Rafe knew his friend held love in his heart for the old man, but it was a love mixed with a horrible hate. Their relationship had always been complicated, and Taveon would never admit it.
To him, it was a weakness he could not afford.
Rafe crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. “She is strong, fierce, and full of raw potential. That said, she is a very new fae, and she still struggles to maintain control while she is in her shapeshifted form. Her powers are volatile, especially since she seems to be quite angry that she is being forced to do this...”
He loved Taveon like a brother, and he was on his side no matter what. But...well, how did he tell the Prince that this entire thing was a terrible idea?
Taveon shot a sharp glance his way. “You sound skeptical. Can she not do this?”
“I believe she can, but I am not certain she should.” Rafferty hesitated to say more. The truth of the matter was, the girl had made quite the impression on him. She had been a lot different than he’d expected, and there was a fierceness there that was impossible to deny. “She is...different. She does not belong here, Taveon. It is not fair to keep her held here like a slave.”
“I see. “Taveon scowled. “Perhaps you will change your tune when I tell you that she attempted to murder me.”
Rafe’s eyebrows shot up.
“Yes, that’s right.” Taveon crossed his arms over his chest. “She made a move against the crown.”
“Does that mean she knows the truth about you? Did she see?”
Rafe was talking about the Prince’s immunity to death, of course. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if the truth of Taveon got out. The whole realm would explode into violence. The Court would either love him or hate him. Probably both, split right down the middle, forcing the entirety of the Dark Fae to break out into war.
Because Taveon’s immunity meant one thing and one thing only...though it was a thought Rafe didn’t dare voice aloud, not even in his own mind.
Ta
veon gave a grim nod. “But she will not tell a single soul. She understands the repercussions if she does.”
Rafe raised an eyebrow. “She does?”
“She knows that if she admits to stabbing me in the heart, her life will be forfeit,” Taveon said.
Of course. Rafe forced himself to keep his expression neutral even though he was anything but. So, Bree didn’t quite understand the full truth of Taveon’s nature. That was good, at least. As much as Rafe appreciated Bree for the person she was, he didn’t trust her. Not yet. She could do a lot of damage with that information.
But, at the same time, he hated the idea that Taveon had threatened her life. This was not how the Prince had planned to do things. Or, at least, he’d always told Rafe he wouldn’t be the King his father was. If that was still the case, he wasn’t starting out on the best foot.
“If the wrong person finds out, Taveon,” Rafe said, “it could mean the end of everything.”
“Not if I win the Battle for the Crown first, Rafe. No one can take the throne away from me once I have it,” Taveon said, his voice dangerous and dark. “So, get her ready. Make sure she is prepared for the fights. We cannot afford for her to lose.”
Chapter 7
Bree
Shortly after dawn, Taveon came for Bree again. It only took one look at the dress in his hands to understand what he had planned for her this particular morning. She hated that she never knew what was coming, but she felt as though she couldn’t complain. She’d just spent at least fifteen hours locked up in this cell, the time only broken by the delivery of food every few hours.
Terrible food that tasted like ass.
“Get up,” the Prince barked when he reached her cell. He unlocked the door, threw in the dress, and whirled on his feet to face away from her. Frowning, Bree grabbed the dress from the grimy floor. He seemed grumpier than usual, and that was saying something.
“What bug got up your ass this morning?”
“Honestly, Bree. I do not understand a word that comes out of your mouth.”
“Why are you in such a shitty mood?”
“That is none of your concern.” His back rippled as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, get dressed. I do not have time to waste waiting for you.”
With a roll of her eyes, Bree quickly changed out of her dirty prison clothes and into the clean blue dress. It was a soft, luxurious fabric that whispered across her skin and clung to her every curve. The Prince had even brought a brush today, and she quickly ran it through her long dark hair. She could almost feel pretty like this—and free—and so far away from the beast she was within.
But it was all just an illusion.
And it was a feeling that vanished the second she stepped out of her cell, the metal wrist braces snapping tight around her skin once again.
Prince Taveon was silent as he led Bree up the stairs and into the castle above the dungeons. She risked a glance his way, curiosity niggling in her mind. Sure, he was usually pretty grouchy, but this was something else. He was practically seething, and she didn’t think it was directed at her for once. Had something gone wrong? Was someone else jostling for the crown?
She was desperate to know, but there was no way in hell he’d share the information. And he’d probably march her right back down the stairs if she kept prying.
“So, are we going for a walk again?” she tried.
“That is obvious, is it not?” he merely replied.
She rolled her eyes. “Well, I assumed you didn’t want me training in a dress, but who knows? I don’t know how this Court works.”
“You will be training in your fighting leathers.”
Your fighting leathers, Bree couldn’t help but notice. So, those clothes were officially hers. There was something so final about how that sounded. So permanent. There were clothes that belonged to her. Almost as if this place were now her home.
She wrinkled her nose at the thought. “You can’t keep me here forever, you know.”
“I can, and I will,” he said in a sharp voice. “Once you have won me my crown, then you will be assigned to the task of generating energy for the Dark Fae. This is not a temporary need. We require this energy to survive. Forever.”
She bristled, anger now roiling through her once again. “You seriously can’t expect me to kill people for the rest of eternity.”
“You will not be killing them.”
She balled her hands into fists. “I might as well be. And hell, death is probably a better fate than what you have planned for them. Turning them all into vicious monsters that can’t control themselves.”
“I do not have time for this,” Prince Taveon said with a dismissive tone in his voice. “You will do what I say, whether you approve of the methods or not. That is what being my slave means, Bree Paine. It does not mean you have any input into how I run my Court.”
“Well, it’s not yours to run yet,” Bree said in a snap. “First, you’ll need to win the damn champion fight thing. And hey, maybe I’ll lose.”
Bree had been unable to do anything other than tiny, rebellious little acts since she’d been captured, but an idea had sparked in her mind during their conversation. She might be forced to fight for him, but that didn’t mean she had to win. Or even that she had to try to win. She could lose the fight and lose him the crown.
It would serve him right.
The Prince flashed her a frown. “You do understand that this is a fight to the death, yes? It is why the prospects for the crown do not fight for themselves. The loser perishes.”
Bree’s mouth snapped shut as she gaped at the Prince and how easily he’d tossed out his words as if they were meaningless. As if her life did not matter.
“Fight to the death?” She stopped short in her tracks, her chains jangling with the sudden movement. “You can’t be serious. This is some kind of joke.”
“I do not joke, Bree.”
She ground her teeth together, fire licking the insides of her stomach. “You’re really going to do that? Force me to fight for my life? You do know that if I die, I can’t do this energy thing you want me to do, right? If I die, you can’t fix the Tithe?”
“Yes, I do realize that,” he said with narrowed eyes. “That is why you must train. You must make certain you can win this fight.”
“I can’t believe it.” Bree threw up her hands, her chains rattling even harder. The sound caught the attention of a few fae clustered at the end of the hallway. She recognized one of them. That strange, unnerving fae she’d met the last time the Prince had taken her on a walk. Some kind of Lord. He twisted her way at the sound, his eyes sparking with something dangerous when he saw who had made the noise.
“Be quiet,” the Prince said in a low, dangerous voice. “You mustn’t cause a scene in front of other Court members.”
“Or what?” She crossed her arms over her chest, the sleeves of the dress dropping away to reveal the chains. “You’ll force me to do something dangerous, like, I don’t know, fight to the death?”
The Prince frowned and flicked his eyes down the hallway. Bree’s lips curled. He didn’t want the others to overhear this conversation. He didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of them. He was nervous that she’d make some kind of scene, one that would reflect badly on him.
A strange smile spread across Bree’s face. If she were smart, she wouldn’t give in to the urge. She would fall silent and do as she was told.
But her hatred and anger for him took over her mind.
“I will not fight to the death for you!” she loudly proclaimed. And then she kicked him right in the knee.
Everything went black.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Rafferty murmured as Bree moaned, and she squinted against the bright glow of a hundred tiny lights. Her vision began to clear, bringing her surroundings into focus. She was in some kind of dining hall. Hundreds of sconces lined the walls, highlighting the five long tables that stretched across the massive stone space.
Br
ee twisted, her cheek brushing against the ground. She was on the floor, lying next to...a pair of silver boots. She looked up. A pair of boots that belonged to the Prince. He glared down at her, eyes sparking with that intense hatred of his.
Rafferty knelt by her side, frowning.
“Where am I?” Bree asked. “What’s going on?”
“You are in the Great Hall. The Court has just had their evening feast. You are the...entertainment for the evening.” Rafe winced and glanced up at the Prince. “Is this really necessary, Taveon?”
Bree couldn’t help but notice that the Prince did not correct his friend’s lack of title when addressing him.
“Honor demands punishment when a slave does not show the proper respect toward members of the royal family.”
Rafe’s face clouded over, and he dropped his voice to a whisper. “This is not honor, Taveon.”
“Rafe.” The Prince hissed. “Do not question me on this. It must be done.”
Rafe fell silent, and then sighed as he helped Bree stand.
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” she repeated, frowning out at the dozens of eyes that were now focused right on Bree’s face. Lord Dagen was among them, sitting right in front with his hands clasped across this chest. Bree glanced at Rafe, trying to understand what the hell was happening.
Rafe gave her a strained smile. “Unfortunately, the Court was witness to an attack on the Prince by you, Bree Paine. The crown demands punishment when members of the royal family have been wronged. The Prince has chosen...well, you are to dance for the Court.”
Bree nodded, swallowing hard. She had to admit that it was a strange punishment, one that was mortifying but not particularly terrible. She would have conjured a million different types of Dark Fae punishment rather than this. Scrubbing floors. Having hair pulled out one by one. But dancing? That didn’t seem all that bad.
“Until you collapse from exhaustion,” Rafe added. “You will not be allowed to pause, and you will not be allowed food or drink until your legs have buckled and you can no longer stand.”
A Cage of Moonlight Page 5
