Page 145 of Court of the Fae Princes

I hurry over and swing myself onto my horse. My heart pounds, and with every beat, I find myself surer of my path, and mission, to battle the Keeper of Death for my princes’ lives and my kingdom’s survival.

Settled into my saddle, my mind flashes back to my dream of Sulien and the shape he was in. Then images of the other men come, and I fight the nausea that rises inside of me. Time is of the essence.

NINE

Zane

Ripples of pain travel through my body with each step I take, but I press on, following a staggering figure with flesh hanging off of its discolored bones and a torch clutched in its skeletal hand. Hisses of pain slip past my lips as I continue walking. This last beating had been fierce. Out of the darkness, a dozen of the Keeper of Death’s soldiers had emerged to carry out the beating, and soon they were all around me, making my broken ribs, and the rest of me, hurt on a whole new level.

"With sharp bones used to cause pain," I whisper into the darkness.

Only the clattering of the dead man's bones responds.

"A dozen dead tasked with causing pain and nothing more."

Yet, I wasn't in that room with them for long. My mind had shifted to an even bleaker place, as it often did. This… shifting of my mind is something that had taken time to notice, but I’d determined that it was yet another of the Keeper of Death’s powers. She could play with our mind. Make it seem like we were here for longer than we were, make us feel pain that's beyond what our bodies can actually take.

What a horrific power.

In the darkness with the scent of death all around us it was hard to notice what she was doing for awhile, but I slowly did, and now that I have, I’ve tried to focus on the world around me rather than where she tries to pull me within my mind. To focus on the cold floor, or the scent of the decaying bodies. It’s unpleasant, but it makes it harder for me to be pulled into that… other world that the Keeper can draw us into.

Blood fills my mouth, and the coppery tang washes over my tastebuds. I spit the mouthful of blood out, but the taste still lingers. A gasp slips from my lips. The simple act of spitting feels excruciating with my back, shoulders, legs, and arms raw with the strikes from the dead.

The staggering figure disappears into a new room. I follow, more slowly, wondering what will happen next. What new hell the Keeper has in store for me. But when I enter the room, the creature has placed the torch on the wall. It stands, staring at me with one eye hanging out of the socket, a plate of food in its hand. It lifts the plate toward me, and even though I already know the food will taste like shit, I snatch the plate eagerly away.

Before I can give into my growling stomach, the figure staggers away, and the door closes behind it, sealing me in this new place. Whatever. I don’t give a shit. There’s light in here, food, and none of the dead to hurt me… I think. This is as close to paradise as I’ve experienced since coming here.

I grip the plate, surveying the room, wondering if dead hide in the corners. The faint light in the room does little to offset the darkness concealing most of the room, but it’s so much better than being lost in the shadows. Lost to the world of light.

I stagger forward, each step a struggle, but I’m unsure of where to go. Nothing feels safe. Then I sense something in one corner. Heart in my throat, plate gripped in my hand, I inch closer. My skin feels clammy. What is this? What new hell am I stepping into?

A figure materializes from the shadows as I draw closer. Cobar. Slumped against the wall on the ground. Broken, beaten, but breathing. It can’t be him. They won’t let us see each other, no matter how much I’ve asked. The thought that I may be hallucinating flashes in my mind, but as I approach, I see him, a mirror image of my agony.

“Cobar?” My voice is husky due to lack of use.

His head shifts up a little. “No, no, you’re not real.” He sounds… almost frightened.

“I am. I swear, I am.”

He presses a fist to his forehead, then drops it, looking back at me, blinking against the light of the torch. “Okay.”

“Okay.” My voice cracks for entirely different reasons.

With as much urgency as I can muster, I close the distance between us, even though each movement makes my ribs scream in agony. I haven’t seen another living soul for so long it hurts, much less any of the other princes, and until now I hadn’t realized just how important that was. As the Prince of the Winter Fae, I’m known for being cold, but I guess I need human affection more than I thought.

I guess I need my friends. My brothers. To help me through dark times.

Kneeling down in front of him, I hiss at the agony the movement brings, but I don’t care. The pain doesn’t matter nearly as much as my friend. I hug him, causing both of us to suck in air from the pain it causes.

But then one of his arms wraps around me. "You're real."

A laugh catches in my throat. "I'm real." I slowly release him, drawing back. “Have you seen them? Sulien? Forrest? Have you learned anything?”

Please let him have seen them. Please let them be okay.

His eyes meet mine, and I’m taken aback by the amount of pain and suffering reflected in his bruised and beaten face. He shakes his head slightly and winces. Damn. My heart knew he wouldn’t have any information, but that simple shake of his head bursts what little hope I had.

“Absolutely nothing,” he murmurs, and I can hear the frustration and anger in his voice.

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