Page 164 of Court of the Fae Princes

The Keeper of Death pants. “You’re not just smart like me. Or powerful like me. You look like me too.” She moves closer, closing the space between us.

Every muscle in my body tightens. I don’t trust her, but I’m not going to back down either. When she’s a couple feet away from me, a sudden burst of movement sends vines springing from her body, snaking toward me. I leap back, but the vines are quicker, curling around me. Trapping me, pulling me towards her.

“Mother?” I say sarcastically.

“Daughter?” she taunts right back.

I struggle for my dagger. It’s there. Inches from my reach. But even closer, I sense my magic, and I realize it’s waiting. Stronger than my blade.

The skeletons that line the walls begin to move at her command. I feel my connection to them, but I try not to pull on the cords. Not yet. They take their places, surrounding me. The perfect little trap by the Keeper of Death. Except she doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know I’m good at getting out of a bind.

The vines sting and burn me as thorns erupt, cutting deeply. Pain courses through me, but I feel my power burning, hot and bright. Power at my disposal.

I don’t know what I’m doing as I direct that power toward the vines, but I let those cords of magic out, and the vines around me are suddenly in flames before they fall to ash around me. My mother leaps back, stopping the fire before it reaches her. In an instant, her countenance shifts to something somewhere between shock and pride.

Isn’t it a bitch? She returned me to the forest for not having power, and yet here I am. Maybe more powerful than her.

“This is pathetic and foolish. You may have a spark of power, but it’s nothing compared to what I possess.” She’s suddenly there, face inches from mine, triumph in her eyes.

In a flash, I let those threads of magic out, not knowing what they’ll do, but knowing I have to do something. I feel the power in my hands, and I act. Suddenly, flames are dancing from my fingertips as I slap her across the face. She’s turned away from me, unmoving for a painfully long moment, before she turns back. A gasp slips from my lips. I’ve singed off half of her face. The flesh is gone, everything melted down to muscle and bone.

Fuck…

Her chilling laugh sounds through the chamber, unexpected enough that it makes me jump. “Oh, now that’s impressive. But let me show you some real pain.” In a blink, she lunges at me, her fingers clawing at me.

I barely manage to sidestep in time, but I do. Probably because she’s not nearly as numb to what I did to her as she’s trying to pretend. “This can stop now. You gave your word. You have to let them out of your deal.”

“It’s too late," she says. “Don’t you see?”

It’s not. I don’t. But when the dead suddenly start moving toward me, I try to take control of them once more. It doesn’t work. They press forward. The bones in their hands sharpen to blades, blades already coated with blood. Blades capable of giving me a very slow, very painful death.

“Is this what you want?” the Keeper shouts. “This is what you were so desperately waiting to see, my power unmatched by your own!”

A blade slashes at my arm, and I cry out as I dive out of the way, but not nearly quick enough to avoid the sting. Another blade strikes me across my hip, and I hear my men shouting my name.

It’s strange. Their voices. The sound of my name on my lips. It shakes something inside of me, reminding me of something Lady Nova said. I need to take control, even if only for a moment. It’s all I need.

Taking in a slow, deep breath, I pull on all the threads of the undead at once… and feel them, feel them respond, obeying me and not her. They shift their target, closing in on my mother. Her eyes widen, and I see her waiver momentarily, distracted by her own army turning against her.

It’s all I need. This moment.

Slipping my blade free, I launch myself at her without hesitation. Our bodies collide, and I drive my blade into her chest, twisting with every bit of fury and pain I’ve ever felt. My power surges into the movement, and fire pours from the weapon, illuminating her chest from within. Her scream fills the chamber. She tumbles back onto the ground, scratching at the blade, but her hands do nothing.

Then I look at my men. At their wounds. At their broken bodies. And I pull on the threads around me once more. The army of the undead, sharpened hands outstretched, descends on my mother. Her screams fill the chamber, and the scent of fresh blood fills the air.

I don’t move. I don’t speak. The screams are all I can hear until they quiet. I can feel her heart beating still, slow, missing beats, almost gone, and I pull on the threads once more.

The army falls to the ground, a pile of bones and dead.

I move to stand over her, and my mother’s eyes lock onto mine, filled with disbelief. I focus on them rather than her horrific body. “You’ve been returned to the woods, mother. Enjoy its cold embrace.”

Without another word, she takes her last ragged breath, and I do her the honor of tugging my blade free from her chest, feeling nothing. Hopefully the woods will want her, because I sure as hell don’t.

FIFTEEN

Forrest

It’s like the air rushes back to my lungs and the weight on my back is lifted. My body still feels like hell, but for the time, I realize that some of what we were experiencing was due to the Keeper of Death’s magic, not just the beatings we endured.

---