Taste My Wrath (The Iron Fae Book 1)

by Debbie Cassidy

  A sickness? Fuck this, I wasn’t getting sucked into his stories. I wasn’t allowing him to defend his people. “So, you kill us? How is that going to help you in the slightest?”

  For a moment, there was a flash of ice in his amethyst eyes. A reminder of what he was. “We’ve hunted and conquered for generations. It’s what we do, but I agree that hunting humans is too much. I asked my tutor, Aredor, about it once. I asked him if it was our way of punishing your people for having something we didn’t. He told me that might be partly true, but the main reason was something entirely base. For in that moment, as the life drains out of a human’s eyes, a shining one can feel that light inside of himself.” He sighed. “They are misguided. Not evil. They are yearning for something you take for granted.”

  Oh, boy, I wanted to bitch slap him. “And killing you will achieve that, how?”

  He dropped his gaze. “Killing me is politics.”

  “No, Tuatha are evil.”

  His eyes widened. “Where did you hear that word?”

  I turned away to look out the window. “None of your fucking business.”

  “No one has called us that in…in forever.”

  I’d heard that his kind were ageless, and partly to deflect from his line of questioning and partly because I was curious… “How old are you?”

  “Fifty human years,” he said.

  He looked good for his age, not a day over twenty-five. “You were born here?”

  He nodded. “One of a small number. My people aren’t blessed with fertility, but our longevity helps us to survive. Still, we had to do something to keep our numbers. It’s how the Danaan were born.”

  I looked at him now, intrigued. “Go on.”

  He blinked slowly, but with him, it didn’t seem an afterthought. “We’ve been forced to procreate with other species to survive.”

  So, the Danaan were a combination of creatures from other worlds? It explained why they all looked so different when the Tuatha all shared the same perfect features.

  Movement in the field below caught my attention.

  There was someone down there. A female figure weaving across the field as if she was drunk, and then her voice drifted our way on the wind.

  “Help me…please, help me.”

  A chill brushed my shoulder, and the scent of vanilla tickled my nostrils as the prince joined me at the window. I shied away from contact. Shit, he was cold.

  “She’s hurt,” he said. “She’s in trouble. We have to help her.”

  I scanned the field. The long swaying grass at the outer edges could be used for cover.

  The prince scrambled toward the exit, and I grabbed the back of his tunic and hauled him back.

  “Wait.”

  He glared at me. “Someone is hurt.”

  If only he’d had the same consideration when his Hunt buddy had been hurting me.

  “It’s probably a trap. We need to be sure. Just sit down and let me assess the situation.”

  The corners of his mouth tensed, but he did as I asked, backing away from the window. I filled his space, straining my eyes to catch a glimpse of our enemy. They were there in the field. I could feel it.

  The woman stumbled and fell to her knees. Her weeping could be heard, reedy and lamented on the wind. A wind that picked up and blew grooves in the long grass, and that’s when I caught sight of them. Two figures crouched low. Two figures decked in deep blue.

  The Winter team.

  I’d been right. This was a trap. Thank God I’d stopped the prince. I made to turn away, to tell him what I’d seen, when another figure appeared in the field. Blue tunic, golden hair.

  Motherfucker.

  I looked behind me.

  The fucking prince was gone.

  The fucking prince was in the field.

  29

  I broke into a sprint as soon as my boots hit the ground. That stupid fool. The stupid overly empathetic twit was going to get his arse killed, and yes, I should let him die. I didn’t need him. Not really. He hadn’t been part of the original plan, and any assistance he might provide was an extra. I could get to the skywall while his comrades played twirl the intestines with his insides, that would be the smart thing. But stupid must be contagious because I was running into the field to save his arse regardless of all the reasons why I shouldn’t.

  Dammit, Killion was going to rip me a new one when he found out. Providing I survived this.

  Dammit, I had to survive this.

  Two of them.

  Two of us.

  I could take them.

  Would be easier at night and with the damn sword speaking in my head, but fuck it, I’d make do.

  The prince reached the woman and hauled her up. She fought, kicking and screaming. Of course, she thought he was with them. A killer.

  “Run!” My legs pumped hard as I ran in a zigzag pattern toward him. “Fucking hell, it’s a trap. Run!”

  He looked over his shoulder just as movement lit up the periphery of my vision.

  “Duck!”

  The prince dropped, taking the woman with him. An arrow whizzed through the air where his head had been a moment ago.

  He looked up at me, eyes wide with comprehension. Yeah, you idiot. “Run!”

  He threw the woman over his shoulder and broke into a sprint. I came abreast of him a moment later.

  “Zigzag!”

  I sprinted to the left, and he broke to the right. We met in the middle and then broke apart. Arrows whizzed past us, but we were almost at the wall.

  Half an hour early. Even if we made it through, they’d be right behind us. They’d kill us on the other side.

  No. Don’t think like that. You can fight. You will fight.

  We were a handful of meters from the wall when the woman screamed. The prince gasped and staggered forward.

  Shit. There was an arrow in her back. I veered toward the prince, grabbing hold of him, intent on pulling the dead woman off him.

  “It’s in me,” he gasped.

  Shit. I needed to get her off him. The bastards were gaining on us. I broke the back off the arrow and then slid her off it. The head was buried in the prince’s back.

  No time to do much now. I broke the arrow again as close to the head as possible, and then we were running for the wall.

  The pillar, where was the pillar? “I can’t see the pillar with the lever?”

  “There is none,” he said. “We go through.”

  The wall rushed toward us.

  He gripped my hand with his cold one, and then we dove into darkness.

  For a moment, I was blind, floating in a sea of stars, and then lightning tore a hole in the darkness, illuminating a huge stretch of sand that went on for as far as the eyes could see. My vision adjusted to the moonless night, to the arena made of grains that winked wickedly with every flash of lightning.

  The prince gripped my hand tighter.

  “They’re coming.” He pulled me away from the shimmering blue skywall and shoved me behind him. “Stay back.”

  It took a moment to register that he was trying to protect me, and in that same moment, two figures stepped into the arena. My gut churned with recognition. The antlered guy from the Hunt and some new bitch with short demon horns.

  They were his teammates.

  These two.

  I felt sick.

  “You don’t need to do this,” the prince said to them. “The game is almost over. Winter has won.”

  “How can Winter win if you live?” the demon-horned Danaan said. “You are the real prize.”

  “How much were you paid?” the prince asked. “My father will pay you double to see me home safely.”

  Laughter rang out in the night. “Your father would double his own ransom?”

  “Winter requires strong leadership,” the antler guy said. His face was chiseled perfection in the moonlight as he stalked toward us. “You are weak. This is nothing personal.”

  “Death is always personal,” the prince said.
“You know that, brother.”

  Brother. Did he mean actual brother, or was it a figure of speech?

  “If you want the throne so badly, you can have it,” the prince said.

  Okay, so that answered my question. They were blood.

  “That’s not how it works,” demon horns said. “And you know it.”

  The antlered guy blinked, and this time, it was an involuntary action. His gaze slipped over the prince’s shoulder to me. “I know you.” He frowned, his gaze darting between the two of us. “Interesting.”

  “Everyone else is dead,” demon horns said. “There will be no one left to tell tales.”

  Everyone? No humans survived?

  He held up a sack that bulged. Heads…human heads. “I want her head.”

  The prince stepped in front of me. “No. No more death.”

  Maybe just two more?

  The sword was awake. I drew it and stepped away from the prince. “You want my head, then come and fucking get it.”

  Demon horns dropped the sack and drew a whip. Lightning flashed and thunder roared, masking the sound of the whiplash as it hit the sand. But he ignored me and went for the prince. The whip lashed, the prince froze, but I lunged, bringing my sword up to slash at the whip. Demon horns bellowed and advanced, lashing again and again. I blocked each blow, backing up under the assault.

  “Stop!” the antler one cried.

  At least I thought he did. It was hard to hear above the crack and rumble of thunder.

  Demon horns advanced, and the whip became two. I shoved the prince out of the way when he tried to help with his measly daggers. Dammit, where was his bow and arrow when you needed it because it was getting harder to block this bastard, and the only way to stop him was to get close enough to stab, impossible with the glowing barbs whipping about in my face.

  Lightning blinded me for a moment, and fire cut into my shoulder.

  And then I was hauled off my feet as someone grabbed me from behind. The stench of mud and shit filled my nose. I kicked back with my heels, earning a sharp squeeze that cut off my breath and made my eyes bug.

  Demon horns stopped his assault and smirked at the attacker. “Alive then, Barok. I thought the swamp swallowed you whole.”

  “My head,” my captor said. “I take it, and I win.”

  “Not likely,” demon horns said. “This win belongs to Winter.”

  My vision grew dark at the edges, and my grip on my sword slackened.

  Grip on my sword.

  I still had the fucking sword.

  Focus. Do not lose consciousness. We can get out of this if you use me.

  I blinked back the darkness at the edges of my vision, gripped the hilt tight, and brought the sword up, throwing my body to the side to get a stab at my captor. A bellow blasted my eardrums, and then I was free.

  I hit the ground and ran toward the prince, planting myself firmly in front of him. I recognized the newcomer, the Danaan who’d been with the Summer prince. The one who’d had Liana tied to a tree. He’d made it, and now there were three against one, because, let’s face it, the prince didn’t count.

  The antlered Tuatha was staring at me, mouth pressed in a thin line.

  This had to be over soon, surely. “How much longer?”

  “Not long, I think,” the prince said.

  My limbs ached, and my chest hurt. I was flagging, but there was no time to gather my wits before demon horns and tusk face charged me.

  Let’s dance.

  My sword flashed and clanged against the Danaan’s blades, sliced at the demon horns’ whip, and then buried itself in the Danaan’s side. He went down just as the green glow of the whip hurtled toward me. I threw my body back, bending at the waist to avoid the lash. It swept through the air, parallel to the ground, inches from my chest as if in slow motion.

  Demon horns’ bellow of rage was pure emotion. So much for being impassive. Ha. Renewed vigor flooded me as we clashed once more, blade to whip, over and over. His strikes grew more and more erratic as the rage took over his face, and then he charged me, sudden and unexpected, hitting me in the chest and throwing me onto my back. I hit the ground with an oomph and brought up my blade, ready to counter his next attack, but it didn’t come.

  Fuck, he was going for the prince.

  I rolled to my feet and broke into a sprint. The prince’s face was a mask of determination as he fell into a defensive stance, blades up. The demon-horned guy was almost on him. I pushed myself, injecting a burst of speed, and then I was smashing into the Tuatha, grappling him to the ground. But he was strong, much stronger than me. He kicked out, and my body flew off him, arching through the night until gravity claimed it and pulled it down. I braced for impact, for pain, but it never came. Instead, the shadows caught me, cushioning my blow and lowering me to my feet.

  “What?” Demon horns was staring at me in horror. “What did you do?”

  Movement over his shoulder had my gaze flicking up to meet the antlered Tuatha’s eyes. A flash of silver followed, and demon horns made a gurgling sound. He stared at me in shock from above the red wound across his neck, and then he dropped to the ground.

  I stared at antler guy, and he stared back, his gaze impassive. He wiped his blade on his thigh and sheathed it.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Mist billowed up from behind him. He smiled, a cold action in his perfect face. “Congratulations, you survived the games.”

  And then the mist was shooting toward me, into my mouth and down into my lungs, and the world floated away.

  30

  My mouth felt fuzzy and icky. I peeled my eyelids open and stared at the high ceiling, silver and smooth above me. The light was a strange artificial shade and made my eyes prick.

  “You’ll get used to it,” a smooth male voice said.

  I sat up too quickly, and my head spun. “What the—” Shit. World, stop moving. The world complied, and I stared at antler guy sitting casually in a chair at the end of my bed. He was dressed in a blue so deep it was almost black, and he looked more lethal than he had in the labyrinth. His stag antlers gleamed as if they’d been buffed, and his dark hair fell around his horns in silken soft waves. His face, with its angled, sharp-jawed brutal beauty, negated the romantic hairstyle. The air felt charged and thick, and the hairs on my nap quivered.

  A shiver ran up my spine. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the Keep, of course.”

  The Keep. The fucking mothership. My heartbeat sped up.

  “Our guest of honor and the lone human survivor of the Regency games. The human who slaughtered the rival shining ones in the name of Winter. The elder council and the royal family are eager to meet you tonight.” He arched a brow. “Keeper of Winter.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what they’re calling you.” He shrugged. “I may have whispered it in a few ears, of course.”

  What the fuck was he playing at?

  His moss-green eyes narrowed. “But I figure you have your own agenda…”

  I smoothed out my features. “What game are you playing?”

  “It’s called politics. It’s called keeping a handle on the power. No human was expected to survive, you know, let alone slaughter any shining ones.”

  “You didn’t have to tell them I’d killed the others. You could have taken credit.”

  “And alienate the other courts? You killed their princes.” His eyes widened in mock horror. “We would never have done that.”

  “Autumn killed Summer’s prince, not me.”

  “No…No, I’m afraid that was you too. You killed the princes and their entourage, but you protected your prince with your life. You were his shield.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “And you don’t need to. You’re a weapon now, Danika Khatri. Winter’s weapon. Winter’s Blade.” He tapped his chin. “Oh, that’s much better. I’ll have to make amendments.”

  “You’re insane.”

  He sighed. “Oh, i
f only I was. Existence would be easier. My name is Aspen, and I’m your only friend in this place.” He sounded almost weary. “Play your part, Danika. Smile and nod and accept the boons offered, and you and your family will live to ripe old age in relative comfort. It’s more than many others will ever get.”

  He stood and headed for the door, but I wasn’t done with him.

  “Where’s the prince? Where’s my stuff, my weapons, my sword?”

  He paused at the door. “The prince is indisposed. Your pack of items is on the dresser along with your weapons belt, sans daggers, of course, and if the sword belongs to you, it will find you.”

  He left the room through a sliding door that closed behind him, blending seamlessly into the wall.

  What the fuck did he mean about the sword and the prince…I needed him if I was going to get Nina.

  I lay back down and glared at the ceiling. There was no way I was being paraded around in a fucking ceremony. I needed to get to Nina, find the weapon, and get out of here.

  A female Tuatha dressed in a cream tunic and pants entered my room an hour later with fresh clothes in Winter blue and gold. She didn’t speak to me as she laid them on the bed; in fact, her hands shook slightly, but she kept darting looks my way.

  She was afraid.

  Of me?

  A human?

  But she was also curious.

  I needed to get out of the room and find the prince, and maybe this Tuatha would be able to help me.

  “What’s your name?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath and stared at me fully for the first time. Damn, Aspen had done a good job of spreading fear about me. What had he said about me?

  “Your name?” I hardened my tone slightly, playing on her fear.

  “Blossom, Keeper of Winter.”

  “I need to see the prince, Blossom. Take me to him.” Not asking, telling. “Now.”

  She blinked in surprise. “I…those weren’t my instructions. I was told to bring you clothes and—”

  I stepped into her space, and she shrank back. “Do you know what I’ve done? What I’m capable of?”

  Her nutmeg eyes went wide. “I…I was told to bring clothes.”