Page 6 of Of Sword & Silver

Outside the slit that passes for a window in my cell, the moon spills over the quiet town of Cottleside, just visible across the river, chimneys puffing smoke into the frigid night air. It’s so clear and cloudless that I can make out the sluggish ice dotting the River Blanst, the water slower during the colder months, and usually enough to drown out most sounds.

Another loud crack sounds, one that triggers a memory of long ago, of another centuries-old building, and my full attention goes to the world inside the prison.

Faint sounds of shouting filter through the thick stone walls, only audible thanks to my superior hearing. Normal Fae are better at most things, stronger, faster, all of our senses more in tune with our surroundings than any human—and I’m no normal Fae.

My gaze drops to the manacles on my wrists and feet, then rises to the length of chain that keeps me from moving very far… or is supposed to.

The guards don’t believe they’d be able to keep me here without them. The corner of my mouth twitches, a smile threatening, but it dies before it has the chance to form.

I don’t remember the last time I smiled.

I don’t know if I even can. I certainly don’t deserve to.

Not anymore.

The sound of steel on stone rings out, unmistakable. Footsteps, accompanied by more shouting, additional cries going up as more blasts reverberate through the prison walls.

The voices fade in the distance, and a glance outside my window shows smoke curling from the northwest wing of the prison, along with green-tinged flames.

Shukan charges—magic-fueled explosives. The scent of stale magic wafts through the barred window.

“Interesting,” I say.

My voice is hoarse with disuse.

My door creaks open, something that never happens. Tasteless slop and the stalest bread are served through a slit that stays bolted most days.

I smell her before I see her, the scent of thunderstorms on fresh-tilled earth, vanilla and smoke. She smells of magic and promise, and it sets me on high alert.

The door continues to move, opening slowly, and I reassess the newcomer’s threat status, if she isn’t strong enough to move it more quickly. Still, I didn’t get to be this long-lived by underestimating danger. There’s slack in the chains and I gather them in my hands, waiting. Listening.

Her hair is the first thing I notice, a curling braid draped over her shoulder the color of autumn, of fire and blood. Then green eyes of spring, and a smile that’s as sharp as the dagger in her hand.

“Come to kill me yourself, servant of Sola?” I grind out. “Do you come for vengeance?”

That, that I could understand.

“Oh, no,” she says in a sing-song voice. “Where would the fun be in that?”

“You did this?” I ask, jerking my head towards the chaos breaking loose in the furthest prison wing.

“You like it?” she asks, flipping her braid over her green cloak. “Explosions usually add to the chaos. Can’t say I’ve done a prison break in a while.” She shrugs a slim shoulder, and while she’s projecting ease, comfort, I see through it.

She’s ready for a fight, and unlike the guards, she’s not fooled by the chains on my wrists and ankles.

“What do you want with me?” I study her carefully, curious after all these long years of boredom. “I get fed here.” Sure, sometimes there are worms in the slop, but protein is protein.

“Sex.” She flutters her eyelashes, and the word hits me like a slap in the face, her magic twining around me.

A noise like an angry animal rumbles deep in my chest. “You. You’re a silver tongue.”

“Fun, isn’t it?” She steps closer, her knuckles white on the hilt of her dagger.

“Tell the truth. I can taste your lies.”

She tilts her head, sucking in her cheekbones as she finally figures out why her magic is struggling to work. “You’re not human.”

I grunt. “What do you want with me?” I repeat.

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