Page 95 of King of Storms and Feathers

Sighing, Arrow linked our arms, guiding us around the remains of what once was a desperate gold runner called Davy. “Have you no comment now that you’ve witnessed what happens to those who cross me, little Leaf?”

“Why? Is that a threat?” I asked, my chin raised and attention focused straight ahead. “Is that what you plan to do to me if I keep refusing to say what you want? To do what you want?”

He halted mid-step and stared at me. “Of course not. It pains me that you think I’m capable of it.”

We began walking again, following the Zareen and Ari into the mountain’s interior, and I took three steps to every two of Arrow’s. “What you did was horrific and… unnecessary. If you’d shown the man mercy, he might have learned a lesson, changed for the better, and continued to work hard in your mines.”

He gave me a quizzical look. “Mercy? But I did grant it because he told the truth and admitted his crime. Most fae present today could describe what an unmerciful death by my hand looks like, and it is a considerably more drawn-out process.”

My steps faltered, dizziness sweeping over me, no doubt from the shock of beholding another example of the true nature of the man I belonged to. Taking a slow breath, I wiped sweat from my brow with the back of my hand.

Arrow beckoned a trembling Auryinnia guard over. “Send soldiers and at least two high reaver elves to ride to the nearest human encampment and inquire about a boy called Zaret. If you find him, return him to me safely. And be sure to treat him well.”

My jaw dropped as I stared at Arrow, hope for Grendal’s child blooming inside me.

“Yes, My King.” The guard bowed and scurried away.

We entered a large gold-lined chamber, the walls carved with the familiar lightning forks and feathers of the Storm Court and long-lashed feminine eyes, symbols of the reavers’ matriarchal society.

On either side of the room, open elevators plummeted into the depths of the mines, filled with miners returning to their days’ work. Our small party entered a larger, ornate elevator set into the rear wall, which I assumed would carry us up to the reaver palace.

The filigree door clicked shut, and a shudder passed over me. To distract myself from my rising fear of confined spaces, I concentrated on the sounds of Arrow’s courtiers setting up our camp outside, thankful that we would sleep under the open sky tonight.

As a child of the forest, I couldn’t bear the idea of the weight of the mountain pressing down on me all night long. Although, if Ari’s plan succeeded, I wouldn’t spend much time in my bed tonight.

The elevator zipped upward, and I stole glances at Arrow’s chiseled profile, my gaze tracing the hard set of his mouth that relaxed into its full, sensual shape when we were alone, the points of his ears cutting through tousled hair, and his crown of twisted feathers.

I wondered if he had been volatile before his family died, a man who could transform in the blink of an eye from an empathetic and reasonable person to one capable of monstrous deeds. Had he always been erratic and inconstant? If I could give him anything, instead of my absolute surrender, it would be the gift of peace inside his violent, bitter heart.

“Thank you, Arrow,” I said, squeezing his hand as the Zareen addressed the king’s entourage. “It means a lot to me that you’re helping Grendal’s child.”

Silver eyes glowered down at me. Then he beamed, his broad smile twisting my heartstrings into knots that could not easily be untangled. I thought of Ari and Ildri’s plan, and for a passing moment, I regretted that I was leaving him. Saddened that after tonight, I would likely never see him again. Never shiver under his touch. His kiss. Or his sweet, savage bite.

I shook my head and forced myself to recall every indignity he had made me suffer, remembering what he had called me earlier: his possession. There was no point in hoping to ever mean more to him. It was a futile dream. A dream I didn’t even realize I’d been nurturing.

The reaver palace’s gilded apartments and reception rooms spanned seven floors, each level growing narrower as we rose higher toward the pointed summit of the mountain, the interior lit with the same floating balls of lightning that illuminated the city of Coridon.

The air was thick with incense, and the atmosphere was cloistered but inviting. Every surface glowed in rich burnished hues, including the reaver elves themselves, who shone like golden stars.

On the top floor, we stepped into a grand hall of sorts. Located high in the mountain, its floor space was the smallest in the palace. The ceiling soared upward, growing narrower and narrower. And hundreds of shafts, built into the angled walls, cast bright beams of sunlight over the elves gathered around tables laden with large woven baskets.

The Zareen took a seat on a throne that was shaped like a bird in flight and set on a small dais only three steps higher than the floor. The outstretched wings of gold wrapped her shoulders, reminding me of Arrow’s throne back in Coridon.

“Let the ceremony begin,” she said, waving her hand toward a band of musicians who commenced playing a dramatic tune on their reed pipes.

A storm courtier appeared beside Arrow, handing him a brocade cushion with seven auron kanara feathers neatly arranged in its center. The king whipped off his cloak and passed it to Ari, his chest covered only in his plate of golden feathers.

Holding the cushion with great care, the king walked forward, dropped to one knee in front of the throne, and solemnly presented his offering to the Zareen.

She stepped down from the dais and knelt before Arrow, placing her hands on the cushion. After reciting a verse in reaver language, she said, “On behalf of the gold reaver elves of Auryinnia, I accept the Court of Storm and Feathers’ gift with immense gratitude for our continuing friendship and alliance. As a symbol of my sincerity, the king and I will reveal our true natures to each other. By the will of the gold that flows through my veins, all glamours will now dissolve.”

Standing on the left side of the gathering, I watched Arrow’s lips curve into a smirk as a shudder undulated down his spine. His body wavered in and out of focus, and an enormous pair of wings appeared at his shoulder blades.

“What the fuck?” I whispered, nausea swirling in my stomach. I grabbed Ari’s hand, crushing it. “Can he fly?”

She clicked her tongue. “Shush. I knew I should have prepared you for this moment, but Arrow swore me to secrecy.”

The absolute prick. Why hadn’t he warned me? I knew he relished every opportunity to unsettle me, but this was pushing the concept too far. By the dust, Arrow had wings? I could barely believe my eyes, but those baffling stray feathers that appeared in the pavilion suddenly made a lot more sense.

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