Page 8 of Of Wind and Terror

And why is he taking me now, after all this time? Why not earlier?

What does he want with me?

Does he know the truth of my identity?

Question after question battles for dominance in my mind, but I have no idea which one will win in the end. A splitting headache threatens to rip my brain apart, and I can practically see the smoke billowing from my ears.

“You have questions,” San murmurs, obviously reading the confusion swarming in my eyes. “And I have answers.”

He extends his hand again, but I eye it like it’s a venomous animal preparing to strike at and bite me.

I begin to shake my head rapidly. Not in response to San’s verbal statement but to his unspoken one.

I don’t want him to take me.

I won’t go with him.

I’d rather die.

“I’m the king’s hunter,” Aleksander—I have to stop thinking of him as San, because that façade was apparently a lie—says calmly. “He ordered me to bring you to him. Offered to pay twice my usual fee. He even agreed to add on an entire barrel of freshly polished knives. I like knives. Then again, I like anything that’s sharp and pointy. What can I say? Some people like being tied up and spanked. Others like stabbing people repeatedly in the gut and laughing while they bleed out. We all have our kinks.”

My heart pounds so loudly I’m surprised he doesn’t hear it. I certainly do. It drowns out every other sound and creates its own drum line.

“Now, what I’m going to tell you next is something no other fae knows,” Aleksander continues with a wry chuckle. It’s not necessarily self-deprecating, but there’s a sort of bitterness to it that belies his normally cheerful tone. “You would be put to death under normal circumstances. But considering I’m usually the assassinator…well…” He shrugs unrepentantly. “I’d kill every fae and elf in this world before I’d allow a single hair on your head to get hurt.

“Anyway, when I arrived in the fae lands, I was required to change my form. To fit in, so to speak. I knew it would be a while until I could find and secure you.”

Secure me.

Like I’m cattle for him to purchase and trade.

A strange combination of bitterness and sorrow weaves together in my chest.

All I’ve ever wanted was for one person to care for me because of me, not because of my powers. Is that too much to ask for? Am I fated to always be a tool for others to use and then discard?

Aleksander continues on, oblivious to the morose direction of my thoughts.

“Our magic works differently than yours does. And by yours, I mean the fae species as a whole. They can utilize only the elements in their specific court. Take Winter fae, for example. Usually, they can wield water and air. The Spring Court fae are often known for their abilities to control the earth. But elves? We can do whatever the fuck we want.”

He smiles broadly and spreads his arms out wide. “We could conquer the world if we wanted to. But unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you look at it—our dear old king said it’s not nice to go on a mass genocide to rule the world.” He rolls his eyes. “I don’t agree, but then again, there’s a reason I’m not in charge. Mass murders every night are a huge no-no in our world. Spoilsport.”

He frowns and then clears his throat with an irritated shake of his head.

“As I was saying, we can do anything we want, but our magic comes with a price. A sacrifice. That price is dependent on the magic one wishes to perform. Want to control the water? You might need to hold your breath the entire time. Wish to bring someone back from the dead? You’ll probably need to kill someone else to do it.” He tenderly reaches upwards to touch at the skin around his eyes. “When I had to change forms and become a fae, my magic took away my eyesight.”

How come I never heard of this? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Amorite is known for being mysterious and elusive. If the other kingdoms learned the truth of their powers, I have no doubt they would use that knowledge to their advantage.

I certainly know a handful of princes who wouldn’t hesitate.

I gesture towards him and then the ground at my feet.

His brows pinch together. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

I once again point my finger at him and then at the ground and then at my wrist, where some of the nobles will have time pieces attached.

When he continues to stare at me in confusion, I throw my hands up in the air. I’ve been trying to ask him how long he’s been in this land, but I can’t find a way to communicate that.

His lips purse together, and a look of irritation paves its way across his face. He folds his arms over his chest with a scowl.

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