Slowly, I began crossing the bridge. As I did, I felt the magical light washing over my skin in a rush of euphoric tingles. It felt like sunshine after a long winter, mixed with peppermint oil. If it hadn’t been for my hunger, I would have felt perfect.
A tug at my chest compelled me to look down at the moat. The white circle of illumination from my headlamp pierced the river of golden light, and some of that euphoria dissolved. Under the golden magic, vibrant green grass grew around bones. Skulls, femurs, ribs … so that was what Aengus meant. What had happened to these recruits? When I strained my eyes, I thought I saw the faintest hints of green smudged on the skulls’ teeth….
A shuffling behind me turned my head, and I whirled to find a pathetic creature standing on the bridge. A skeletal, cloaked figure, with tangled white hair poking from his hood. He looked half dead, his cheeks hollow, lips thin. Strangely, something green and pulpy was smeared across the lower half of his face, like someone had mashed up plants and rubbed it over his mouth.
I’d been expecting someone monstrous—a fae giant, maybe a creature with one eye and a giant wooden club. I’d fought men like that before. I’d never fought a creature who looked like he already had one foot in the grave. I almost felt sorry for him.
But Baleros had taught me well, and I knew better than to underestimate my opponents, even if they looked like death. After all, anyone I’d fought in the arena had found themselves facing off against a petite, lavender-haired girl. Most had underestimated me. And they’d all lost.
Mentally, I reviewed Baleros’s lessons.
Assess surroundings. Learn weaknesses.
The figure stepped closer, and the hunger in the pit of my stomach intensified. I clutched my gut, suddenly ravenous, my mouth watering. Images danced in my head of pies, sandwiches—even Ciara’s weird American spray cheese. My stomach rumbled. Why the hells was I thinking about food right now? I was supposed to be evaluating my opponent, and I was thinking of gods-damned spray cheese.
I frowned at him as he took a step closer, and I felt as if a yawning void were opening up between my ribs. I’d never been this ravenous before. Even when Baleros had taken my food away for a week at a time, and I was sure the ravening hunger would drive me mad, it hadn’t been this intense. Maybe the grass would fill me….
Another step closer. I clutched my stomach, unable to think about anything but the piercing desire to fill my stomach with grass.
But—grass? What in the seven hells?
That’s when I understood his power. I’d seen the stains on the teeth of the skulls. Like the Horseman of Famine who’d once walked this earth, this fae inspired a feeling of starvation in a person. And then, a compulsive desire to eat moat grass. That’s how the other recruits had died, chewing ravenously until their bodies gave out, drained of life.
I sniffed the air, catching the faintest hint of moss on him. He was a fae, like me. That meant he was particularly vulnerable to iron. Good thing I had the iron knife with me. I slid it out of the sheath on my leg. Ruadan really should have been more thorough.
I gritted my teeth, pushing the hunger out of my mind, and lunged for the creature. He dodged out of my way. Just a swirl of steam and a hiss of air, and he’d evaded my blade, reappearing on my other side.
Hunger gnawed at my gut.
I pivoted, lunging again, faster this time. But once again, he slipped away with just a hiss of air.
So he was fast, and the feeling of starvation was getting worse. Now, I could think of almost nothing except filling my belly with grass.
Focus, Arianna. Kill. Clearly, I couldn’t defeat him through speed. I had to get him to let down his guard. I had to lure him to me.
Some fae—the worst kind—fed off the pain of others. If this one fed off hunger, I’d let him feast from me.
I went very still, forcing myself not to move even as I felt desperate need to fill my belly. As the sharp, gaping pain in my stomach intensified, I knew he was getting closer.
Oh gods, I needed to throw myself into the moat, to stuff my mouth with grass and chew and chew until the hunger didn’t hurt me anymore. I needed to fill my belly so desperately…. The grass was calling to me. The grass would fill me. Drool pooled in my mouth.
But I knew that way lay madness. If I jumped into the moat, I’d never make it out.
Assess weaknesses….
With each sharpening pain in my stomach, I was drawing him closer. This one fed off other people’s hunger, but he was also driven by his own cravings.
Exploit the weaknesses.
Maybe I had a bit of an advantage over some of the other novices who’d fought him. I was used to this feeling. When Baleros had grown angry with me—if I hadn’t earned him as much money as I was supposed to, or if I’d talked back—he’d lock me in a metal box. I’d go a full week with nothing but water. And the only way I hadn’t lost my mind was that I’d retreated to my fantasy world, one I dreamt about at night: a bedroom in a palace, with one wall open to the air. A roaring river carved through a verdant valley below the window, where honeysuckle bloomed all around me. And curling over the floral scents in the air, the sweet smell of apples….
I had no idea where the image had come from, but my fantasy world often seemed more vivid to me than the real world. Right now, I could almost taste the bread—
A sharp stab of hunger ripped me in two. I sniffed the air. He was close enough, and I opened my eyes.
Go in for the kill.
This time, my blade was in his chest before he had a chance to dodge away.
The creature’s body began to crack and desiccate before my eyes, his skin flaking off. He crumbled to dust before me, until nothing remained but his cloak.
The hunger receded from my belly, and I slid the knife back into its sheath.
When I crossed to the other side of the bridge, Ruadan and Aengus were waiting for me, lurking in the shadows before a wooden door.
“You survived,” said Aengus.
Ruadan moved for me—so fast I didn’t have the chance to react—and in the next moment, he was pressing me up against the stone wall. His forearm dug into my chest, and he bared his canines in a ferocious snarl. Panic tightened my lungs.
His cowl had fallen, and for the first time, his features came into focus. White-blond hair hung over his shoulders. Even in the moonlight, his skin looked golden, and shadows molded the striking planes of his face. If it weren’t for the malice etched across his features, he’d actually be exquisitely beautiful.
He snarled, and the sound reverberated through my gut. Panic dug its claws into my chest.
By the shadows sliding in his eyes, I knew, then, he was part demon.
“What?” I spit out, horrified to realize that my legs were shaking. “I did what I was supposed to do.”
He smelled like a pine forest. And something else, too. The scent of seared air after lightning strikes—the smell of a powerful, dark magic.
His response was a hand up my skirt. He ripped the leather sheath off my thigh, and the force of it stung my skin.
Releasing me, he took my only weapon from me.
He glared at me for a moment, boxing me in to the stone wall. The wind toyed with his pale blond hair.
I let out a slow, shaky breath. “Usually I save up-the-skirt action for a third date, but since you’ve got such a sparkling personality….”
He simply pulled the cowl over his head, then pushed through the ancient wooden door. Stalking away from us, he disappeared into the shadows of the Institute’s grounds.
Nice, friendly people here.
I suppressed a shudder. I’d fought many monsters in my time, but Ruadan was different. He ignited a primal sense of fear, stirring instincts far older than language. If I stole from him, I’d have two choices. Find a way to kill him, or spend the rest of my life hiding from him.
It would no longer just be Baleros haunting my nightmares. The Wraith would lurk there, too.
Chapter 7
W
hen we crossed through the gateway, we remained in the open air. Under a canopy of stars, I walked over the cobbled ground by Aengus’s side. I had a general idea that two concentric, U-shaped walls formed the outermost fortifications of the Institute’s grounds, and that we were walking between them. But I didn’t have the full layout, yet.
As we walked, ancient stone walls loomed over either side of the path. My headlamp bounced over dark, narrow windows in the towering stone around us. Moss and vines grew all around.
I loosed a long breath, reviewing my situation. Ruadan had taken my knife, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Baleros had taught me to turn the world around me into weapons. Furniture, brooms, glass bottles—all sort of objects could be used to maim or kill. I’d never be truly without a weapon.
As we walked, Aengus cast me a sharp glance. “You look ridiculous with that thing on your head.”
“At least I can see.” I bit my lip. “So, that was an interesting test. How many of those creatures do you sacrifice for your trials? And how do people kill them if we’re not supposed to have weapons?”
“The gorta?” Aengus slid his gaze to me. “We’ve only sacrificed one so far. You weren’t supposed to kill him. You were simply supposed to withstand the hunger and then walk on. You were the one who decided that the trial involved death. Now we have to get a new one, which will be a right pain in the arse.”
Awkward. “Well, it involved death for all those recruits whose bones now decorate the moat. I wasn’t about to let myself become one of them.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a ruthless side?”
I flashed him my sweetest smile. Oh, you have no idea.
“Where did you learn to fight?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “You look young for someone so skilled.”
“I learned underground.” And that was all the answer he was getting.
“I guess that explains the headlamp.”
“Where are you taking me now?”
“To your temporary lodgings.”
“And after tonight, I could end up with you or Ruadan?” I may have injected a bit of venom into his name, but he had seriously annoyed me so far.
“There are four other knights as well. I take it you don’t like Ruadan.”
“I’d call him interpersonally challenged, what with all the shadows and glaring and busting through doors. Not to mention the inexplicable silence. And he stole my knife.”
“I see. He’s got a personality problem, and yet you celebrated your invitation into our Institution by slaughtering our only gatekeeper.”
“Are you still banging on about that?” I asked. “I thought we’d moved on.”
“Eorleoch was four hundred eighty-three years old.”
“The bones in his moat suggested he wasn’t exactly the nicest of gents, so if you’re trying to make me feel guilty, it won’t work.”
“He had four children.”
“Stop.”
“And a pet rabbit.”
I snarled at Aengus. “You should have been more specific about the task if you didn’t want me to kill him.”
Still in the open air, he was leading me north. Silence hung heavily over the old fortress. We passed by several towers until, at last, Aengus paused under an archway. On either side of the archway’s openings, a portcullis was raised partway, giving it the appearance of a gaping mouth with iron teeth.
As Aengus pulled a skeleton key from his pocket, I ran my fingertips over the rough stone walls. “Why do I feel like a prisoner here?” I asked.
“Because you are. If you attempt to escape, we will sever your head with an iron ax.”
“Nice.”
The door creaked open into a dark stairwell lit by a few candles. Inside, the air was musty. Golden runes glowed on the walls, and while I couldn’t read the ancient fae language, I had a feeling that the runes provided a type of magical security. No one would be going in or out of the Tower unnoticed. Still, it was beautiful. Among the runes, honeysuckle grew all over the walls, and the ropes of plants seemed to move and shift like giant snakes.
I followed Aengus up several stories of crooked stairs.
We crossed into a cramped stone hallway. Silvery light streamed in through the windows.
“Hang on.” I needed to get my bearings. I peered out the window to my left. From here, I had a view of the Institute’s interior. A riot of vibrant wildflowers dappled long grasses beneath us. With this view, I confirmed my theory about the layout—we were standing within one of the U-shaped stone walls surrounding the Tower Green. And in the center of the Tower Green stood a pale, castle-like building with peaked turrets. Blooming flowers twined its ragstone walls. I thought it might be the oldest part of the Institute.
“Come on,” said Aengus.
“Just a sec.” I crossed to the other side. From that window, I could see the city of London spread out like a sea of twinkling jewels. Twenty-five years ago—when the four Horsemen had roamed the earth—this would have all been darkness. Apocalypse. Anarchy. And now, everything had returned like it once had been—except with the added horror of the spell-slayers.
I’d once read that the Great Fire in 1666 had completely destroyed most of London. The seventeenth century architects had planned to build a new world—one with wide, modern boulevards and straight roads that actually made sense. While they were making their plans, London’s residents just went back and built everything the way it was, sticking to the crooked, winding, and completely nonsensical street patterns they’d been using forever. It was the same thing after the Anarchy. Everything just resumed the way it had been before the angelic apocalypse. Same bars, same food, same technology. Even the same brands and shops.
“I won’t wait any longer.” Aengus had already moved on, and he stood before one of the doors farther down the hallway.
I sighed, crossing to him. When I reached him, he was turning a key in the lock.
“Are you going to tell me what happens next? What our next trial is?” I asked.
“I’m sure Melusine will fill you in.” Was that a hint of mockery in his tone? “But you might want to turn off that headlamp if you don’t want to wake her.”
I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of asking him what he meant, but I flicked off my headlamp all the same. The door swung open into darkness, and he motioned for me to enter.
I stepped inside the room, sniffing the air. It smelled a bit of flowers, moss—and something like the damp mud of a riverbed.
The door slammed behind me. A stream of moonlight filtered through a slim window onto a figure—someone sitting bolt upright on a bed. I could just about make out feminine curves and long hair.
I dropped my bug-out bag by the door.
A pair of eyes snapped open, but her expression didn’t change. “Oh. A roommate,” she said. “They said I wouldn’t have a roommate. Guess they were wrong. Training begins in the morning. You’ve got a wrinkled shirt. Recruited from the streets, weren’t you? I see rumpled clothes, and I think ‘not a volunteer.’ I put two and two together. I get it. You were forced into competing here. A rogue. An outlaw. A ne’er-do-well. I’m not judging. But me? I prefer to follow the rules. You can follow the rules and still be a fun person. I like to think that I’m a kidder. You know, really funny.”
Oh, gods. So this was Melusine.
“The rest are volunteers like me,” she went on. “But they’re large, muscular men. That’s fine. That’s their thing. I see muscles, I think strength. My strength is magic. When we get to the trials that require magic, I will be in my element. Personally, I’m here because of my superior intellect—”
It was at that point I mentally calculated the probability of convincing Aengus to give me a new room. I put the chances of him caring about my comfort just slightly above the likelihood of spontaneously combusting in the night but lower than the chances of randomly getting pecked to death by the Tower’s ravens.
I decided to just stay where I was. And in any case
, she was already telling me things I probably needed to know. Things like—we were supposed to know magic. And that would be a little problem for me, since I didn’t know the first thing about magic.
“My mother wanted me to leave Maremount,” Melusine continued in a matter-of-fact tone. “She said to me, you never found yourself a suitable husband. Not my fault none of the men could see what a good wife I’d be. I can make four kinds of bread. Corn bread, oat bread—”
I cleared my throat. “It’s the middle of the night. Why are you sitting up in bed?”
“—and corn-oat bread, and also a second kind of corn bread with slightly more eggs. Did you ask some kind of question?”
“Why are you awake?”
“I have trained my sleep cycles. I can get twelve hours’ worth of sleep in one hour. I don’t like to waste time. It’s like the old saying goes, even the fae will die someday, so you should never sleep.”
“That’s not a—never mind. I’m just going to go to sleep on the floor, and we’ll catch up tomorrow.”
“The floor. Interesting. I see floor-sleeping, I see a backpack you don’t need—probably full of emergency items you can’t part with—I think traumatic history. Ready to flee at any moment. Keep all your stuff with you. Get attached to items and not people if you can help it, keep your stuff close and expect the worst. I put two and two together.”
Gods save me.
I couldn’t see much in the darkness, just the dark contours of parallel beds and a dresser against the wall.
I pulled off my boots and stumbled over to one of the darkened corners of the room. I curled up on the floor, finding that a lush carpet covered it, soft against my cheeks. It smelled of the earth, of home.
Melusine was still lauding her intellectual powers as I let my eyes shut. Images swam in my mind—of Ciara, tied to the chair, a gag in her mouth.
Despite the horror of what lay within my skull, it turned out, Melusine’s monologues were actually very good for drifting off to.
Court of Shadows: (A Demons of Fire and Night Novel) (Institute of the Shadow Fae Book 1) Page 4
