Marked (The Coldest Fae Book 3)

by Katerina Martinez

  There were men posted just outside of the tent’s open front flaps; large men wearing black pants, but no shoes, or shirts. It was warm close to the ground, in fact I was starting to feel a little too toasty in my clothes, but we were still surrounded by snowy peaks and mountains. How was any of this possible?

  “Dahlia!” I heard a shriek.

  Turning to the side, I saw Melina standing with another tall, burly, bearded looking guy. He had her gripped tightly by the arm. I watched her try to shrug out of his grip, but he held her in place and jabbed a finger at her.

  “I thought I told you not to move,” he growled.

  “Bite me, asshole.”

  I grinned, proud of her for using a phrase I had taught her, but then the man holding onto her raised his other hand as if to hit her. Mel went to turn her face aside and protect herself with one arm, when a voice shot through the village, stopping him before he could hit her.

  “Stand down, Praxis,” said the woman who had come storming out of her tent.

  She was tall, taller than the men around her. Her skin was of a dark complexion, she had thick black hair fashioned into tight braids and plats, and while she looked easily as strong as Aronia, the fact that she was taller made her seem lean and toned instead of bulky. Her pointed ears twitched in the silence following her command, but Praxis did not dare hit Melina.

  He lowered his hand, and shoved her toward me.

  I rushed over to her and wrapped her up in my arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” I said, “I thought we’d lost you.”

  “You did, for a bit,” she said, “Ollie didn’t want to stop.”

  “Oh no. Is he…?”

  “He’s fine,” she cocked a thumb, “They have him back there, tied up. I tried to get them to promise they wouldn’t eat him, but they gave me no such assurances.”

  “Thank fuck.”

  “Gullie?” she whispered.

  The little pixie tickled the back of my neck. I nodded. “Also, fine.”

  “Ahem,” came a voice from the front of the tent. The woman standing there was staring at us, her eyes wide, her hands on her hips. I realized, with horror, that everyone was staring at us with equally shocked expressions. “No, please,” said the woman, “Continue your conversation.”

  “Sorry…” I said, a little meekly. “I thought you’d killed my friend.”

  “We are moon children, not savages.”

  “Moon children… that makes a lot of sense.”

  She cocked an eyebrow, then approached. “Are you her?” she asked, “The one with the mark? Let me see.”

  I was about to show her my right hand when she grabbed it and yanked it to her. She stared at the mark, her eyes narrowed, a little scowl on her lips. With a blink she turned those narrow, almond-shaped eyes up and met mine. “tath isia, huh?” she asked, “The white wolf… we shall see about that. Come with me.”

  A shudder worked its way up my spine. I had hated the sound of that. We shall see? What was there to see? I had the mark. I didn’t know what it meant, but I had the mark, and so far, it was the reason I was still alive. It was definitely the reason Mira was still alive, and possible Mel, too. It didn’t sound like this woman was terribly convinced, though.

  Toross and some of the other fae followed the woman into the tent. Mel and I walked behind them, trying to keep a safe distance but making sure they knew we weren’t about to try anything stupid. Another tickle at the back of my neck, closer to my left ear, made me tilt my head slightly to the left.

  “Hey, Dee,” Gullie said.

  “Don’t speak,” I whispered, “They’ll hear you.”

  One of the wolves had already perked up, but it hadn’t stopped walking.

  “We found our Scary Spice.”

  My hand flew to my mouth to catch the giggle that tried to spill out. What I did catch was the attention of the fae around me. Praxis even turned and glowered at me. “Something funny?” he asked, barreling toward me.

  “No, no,” I said, waving my hand, but still giggling. “No, absolutely not. Nothing at all.”

  “It better not be,” he said, through his teeth. I could smell the meat on his breath, and the… alcohol? Whatever it was, it was sharp, and strong, but it didn’t smell like wine; it smelled more like spiced apples.

  Nodding, still fighting to contain the giggling aftershocks as they came, I walked into the tent behind Toross and Scary Spice. Lacking a name, that was what I was going to call her. At least, in my own head.

  The space inside the tent was warm, and homey. The floors were a patchwork of thick, furry hides sewn together. There were chairs, tables, and other bits of furniture, all that looked like they’d been made by hand from those same black trees from the forest. Some of the tent’s sections had been partitioned off with heavy, woolen curtains, and in the center of the main tent, a decently sized fire pit provided plenty of heat and light.

  Mira was carefully placed on a large bean bag made from various leathers. On it, embroidered with a kind of precision and quality I had not thought possible considering the bean bag was made of thick hide, was a beautiful scene picturing a darkened wolf howling at a gorgeous, full moon.

  Toross took his position next to Scary Spice. With a wave of a hand, she bid the other fae to leave us, presumably so she could speak to us in private. There were other fae in the adjoining sections of the tent, I was sure. I could hear them, smell them. But she wasn’t concerned about them.

  After a moment, the woman spoke. “My name is Ashera,” she said, “First Alpha, Guardian of the Valley, Protector of the moon children.”

  I wasn’t sure whether to bow or not, so I bowed. It seemed like the safer option. Mel bowed too, and Mira lowered her head from where she sat. “My name is Dahlia,” I said, “This is Melina, and Mira. If we offended your people, I’m—”

  “—you did not offend us,” she said, “In fact, we helped you. You should show gratitude.”

  “I am. We are. I don’t think we would’ve survived the encounter with those Vrren if not for Toross and his… pack?”

  “Pack is correct. We had been following you for some time. Very few travelers go so deep into the woods, and even fewer stay the course toward the storm. What is your purpose in going there?”

  “That’s… really complicated.”

  “Not more complicated than what the mark on your hand represents, if it is true.”

  “Why do people keep doubting if it’s real or not?” I asked, “I don’t know what it is, I just got it a few days ago.”

  “Because the mark you bear speaks of a prophecy, but you would not be the first false prophet to have surfaced within these lands.”

  “False…? No, I’m not a false prophet. We were actually looking for your people anyway because you might be the only ones who can tell me what this mark really means. Can you tell me, or not?”

  “We can tell you,” she said, “But first, we will test you.”

  “Test?”

  “The last false prophet who claimed to be the white wolf failed miserably. As did the one before, and the one before. If you fail, you will die. If you survive… we will see.”

  I was about to argue with her, to protest at, well, the whole idea of being tested. Ever since I’d gotten to Arcadia, life had been a series of tests and challenges. I didn’t want another test. I wanted to figure out what this mark on my arm really meant, if it could help me learn more about who I was, and more importantly, I wanted to find the Prince.

  He was out there, somewhere. I knew it. I could almost smell him, always, but he was constantly out of reach.

  Instead of protesting, I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Alright, fine. What is this test?”

  “Simple. You must catch Jaleem.”

  “Who is Jaleem?”

  I felt the sharp, hot bite of pain around my right ankle and immediately fell to the ground. I hadn’t even hit the floor, and the wolf that had bit me was already bolting out of the tent. It was the same wolf that had bit
ten my arm, the asshole.

  Blood poured from the wound, hot and sticky. I wrapped my hands around it to stem the flow and grit my teeth. “Why did he do that?!” I shrieked.

  “Would you not want to cripple your opponent to make sure they cannot catch you?” Ashera said. “You have one hour to find him and bring him low.”

  “I can’t even stand!”

  “If you cannot stand, then you are no white wolf.”

  Adrenaline coursed through me. I could feel my heart hammering against the sides of my neck, against my temples. Melina knelt beside me and touched my shoulder. “Just think it,” she said, “Tell your body to heal. Concentrate.”

  I stared at her, wide eyed, my hands getting warmer and bloodier by the second. I wanted to scream, maybe to cry. I did neither of those things. Instead, gritting my teeth, I shut my eyes and concentrated on the pain in my leg, on the blood in my hands. I visualized the skin knitting, the blood stopping, and in moments, impossibly… it did.

  When I opened my eyes again, the skin around my ankle was starting to heal, to close, to seal.

  “See?” Mel whispered, “Now, go and get him.”

  I still couldn’t believe my own eyes. I tried to stand, to put weight on my leg, expecting my ankle to give, but it didn’t. After glancing at Ashera, then at Mira—who gave me an encouraging nod—I turned to face the opening in the tent, and started running after the bastard that had bitten me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Most of the fae that had been outside of the tent a moment ago had now been replaced by wolves. They crowded the opening, watching me as I spilled outside and into the night, making it almost impossible to know if Jaleem was one of them.

  Shit.

  I scanned the crowd, taking a few careful steps into it and trying to keep my eyes sharp. The gathered wolves were all staring at me, all standing, poised, and ready to attack at a moment’s notice. It was intimidating, but I suspected that was the whole point. They didn’t want me to succeed, here.

  I decided to try something weird; to dip my toes into these new abilities.

  Turning my chin up slightly, I sniffed the air, opening my senses to the aromas in the air around me. I was instantly, and dizzyingly, flooded with information coming from all sides. Sweat, cooking meats and vegetables, the musky smell of leather, wet dog, elk. It became hard to separate the odors after a time, but I had to focus.

  The fae I was looking for had just left the tent, and I thought—impossibly—that I could smell him. Concentrating carefully on his scent, letting it fill my nostrils by taking deeper whiffs of the air, I thought I could drown the rest of the world out and maybe even follow it. My human nose wasn’t exactly designed for this kind of thing, but it was the only nose I had, so I went with it, pushing into the crowd of fae and wolves alike.

  Some of the wolves growled at me, baring their teeth. I skirted around those, and twirled around the others that were standing, trying to stop me from getting to where I needed to go. It was a gauntlet of bodies, and people, but one the Royal Selection had at least prepared me for.

  Fancy feet, Dahlia.

  Fancy feet.

  Breaking past the blockade of fae, I made a dash in the direction I thought Jaleem had gone. He could’ve been anywhere, could’ve gone anywhere. For all I knew, he was hiding in one of the tents, or lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce on me again.

  There were only women and children inside of the tents, though. They watched me as I rushed past, their eyes a mixture of fear, confusion, and withheld aggression. None of these people liked me. I probably smelled too human for them, but I couldn’t think about that now. I had to find the wolf, and I had to do it quick.

  Finally, a break.

  As I rounded a corner, emerging on the other side of a large tent, I spotted movement in the distance—on the hill I had descended to get here. It was him, the wolf. He was running up the hill at full pelt, trying to make it to the stone circle at the top.

  “He’s too far ahead,” I said.

  “Just start running,” Gullie said, “You’ve got this!”

  Nodding, I put my head down and broke into a sprint. Fancy feet, keep it light, keep it quick. A month ago, sprinting like this would’ve been impossible. I’d never had a reason to run in my adult life, but the selection had given me many physical skills to call on that were going to come in handy out here.

  The speed at which I was running and my ability to vault over obstacles and skip neatly away from potential harm, though, bordered on the supernatural. Yes, I was faster, and stronger, and tougher than the day I had gotten to Arcadia. We could thank Mira and all my challenges for that. But there was more to this than just that.

  I was unnaturally fast, and sharp, and yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like I was waking up from a long sleep. The faster I moved, the more my skin started prickling over and flushing with goose bumps for almost no reason. It could’ve been the running, the sweat, the adrenaline, but this wasn’t the first time I’d felt that itch over the last couple of days.

  In fact, the last time I had felt this weird in my own skin, my teeth had started to ache, and they were aching again now.

  I had only just reached the base of the hill by the time Jaleem made it to the top. I watched him tilt his head back and howl deeply into the sky. A moment later, a bright flash of light pulsed from the top of the hill, and then he was gone, leaving the echo of his howl trembling against the mountains.

  He had gone right back the way we had come, knowing full well I had no idea how to cross over to the other side. I wasn’t going to be able to catch him, and that meant in less than an hour’s time, I was dead—and so were Mira and Melina.

  “Shit,” I said, as I ran up the hill.

  “Don’t worry,” Gullie said.

  “Don’t worry? He’s gone!”

  “He’s not. You’ll get him.”

  “Do you know something I don’t?”

  “Once again, we all know something you don’t.” Gullie buzzed out of my hair and flew alongside me. “You know what you have to do.”

  “Then how about you fill me in? Because I’m not getting it.”

  “Just shut up and run!”

  I realized only after I’d reached the top of the hill that I had made it all the way up here without stopping to catch my breath. I was breathing a little hard, sure, but I wasn’t panting, and I wasn’t winded. I actually felt strong, fit, different. That was the word I’d been looking for.

  I felt different, only I didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing.

  “You want me to howl, don’t you?” I asked as I stared at the stones.

  “It looks like that’s what activates the circle,” Gullie said. “So, just go and do it.”

  I scanned the stacks of stones, trying to find another way of operating them that didn’t require me howling like a fool into the night air. I wasn’t a wolf, and that meant the only sound I could make would sound laughable to a real wolf’s ears. Then again, the shimmering mark on my hand belonged to the white wolf.

  Did that mean I could do what those fae could?

  “What if I can’t?” I asked.

  “Do you remember the day we found each other?” Gullie asked.

  “I do. I thought you were a bug that had flown into my room. I tried to swat you.”

  “You did swat me. It hurt like hell.”

  “I know… I’m still sorry about that. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on your face, how badly hurt you were when you got to me. And then I hit you, on top of that.”

  “Water under the bridge. And in your defense, you’d never seen a pixie before in your life.”

  I nodded. “I’m glad you fell into my window that night.”

  “Me too. But it didn’t happen by accident.”

  I frowned at her. “It didn’t?”

  She shook her head. “No. I came looking for you. Not because I knew you, or I knew of you, but because I’d been able to sense you fro
m a distance. Your power, I mean.”

  “Power… I lived with three witches. That’s probably what you were drawn to.”

  “No, you’re not listening to me. In fact, you’re deflecting again, and that needs to stop. You need to stop running from yourself.”

  “I’m… not.”

  “You are. Dahlia, pixies have a keen sense for magic. Most of us are trackers who find lost magic items, or scholars who study strange magical phenomenon. There was magic all over London, but the only fae I could sense was you. I was hurt. Dying. You were a beacon in the night, a lighthouse. It wasn’t random that I came to you.”

  “Why didn’t…” I paused, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner?”

  “Because you weren’t ready for it, but look at where we are, Dee. We’re in the heart of Arcadia, in the village of the moon children. This is where you were meant to be, where you were fated to go, and I know your destiny isn’t to die at Scary Spice’s hands because you couldn’t activate this portal.”

  “How can you be so sure of that?”

  “I just am. Now, bloody howl so we can go after that guy for biting you.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Fine, but if I make a tit out of myself, so help me…”

  “What? What are you gonna do?”

  Grumbling, I stepped into the stone circle. From up here I could see many of the fae gathered at the foot of the hill, others had come out of their tents and were watching from the village itself. None of them were coming up, though. I was given space. Not enough that they wouldn’t hear me, mind you.

  The night was dark, and quiet. My voice was going to carry, and so would their inevitable laughter.

  Among those standing at the foot of the hill were Ashera, and Melina. The big guy, Praxis, was also there, as was Toross. He had Mira thrown over his shoulder again and had angled her so she could also see what was about to happen. Wasn’t that just great? The fae had chosen right now to be considerate.

  Fantastic.

  “Alright,” I said, “Here goes.”