Page 64 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

Chapter 12

My entire life had been guided by fear.

Fear of what other people thought of me. Fear of walking in my mother’s footsteps and being broken by the same throne that stole my mother from me.

I pretended that I wasn’t afraid. When the silvers had whispered and spoke my name to lure me to the glass, I had laughed and mocked them. I had dared them to try harder.

When the courtiers had laughed behind my back and mocked me for living in the castle on my uncle’s pity, I held my head high and pretended their words couldn’t touch me.

I had never allowed anyone to see behind my mask. I had never allowed anyone to see me afraid—until now.

My entire life had been a tightrope walk, as the whole court waited for me to descend into the same madness that had claimed my mother.

Why teach a mad girl how to fight, fence, or join the court?

Since my mother’s death, every action and word that left my mouth felt like a self-fulfilling prophecy. There was nothing I could do to show that I was capable and sane.

I had tried as a child, tried so hard, to be what my uncle wanted me to be.

Patient, calm, and courteous

I had also learned as a child that even if you try hard to gain the approval of others, often, their opinion will not change.

As I approached the wires, I wondered what the princelings thought of me, feeling their gaze on the back of my neck.

They knew I didn’t want to go into the chasm. I had felt their judgment.

I must have been mad to attempt such a thing and for allowing them to persuade me.

Many people had told me I was as stubborn as a barnacle.

My willingness to bend to their will had unnerved me.

Did I believe that the wires wouldn’t affect or hurt me? No.

I knew all too well that my uncle’s magic was dangerous and all-consuming. I had been forced when I was young and unwilling to sit on the High Throne to do his spying. A collar on my neck and magic that tasted like blood at the back of my throat.

After a while, I no longer needed the collar; just the threat was enough.

Still, I approached the wires and did my best to make myself as small as possible. Squeezing through the small gaps as the darkness closed in.

Rainn, Shay, and Tormalugh waited at the entrance, and I wondered what had caused them to have such faith in me. I could easily try and escape.

I growled in frustration as I ducked and wove through the wires, my chest heaving as the memory of my uncle’s magic made the journey even more frightening.

Just when I thought the chasm would go on forever, it widened, illuminated by faelight clinging to the walls of an expansive pit.

The spider web of wire continued, sprawling over the vast empty space. As Rainn had said, there were people suspended by the collars of their necks. Their eyes were cloudy and lifeless.

The lump in my throat made it difficult to breathe.

There were hundreds. An entire battlefield of fae, from kelpie to selkie and all manner of Sídhe in between.

I thought of the abandoned village and how the inhabitants had all been slaughtered and turned to foam—but had they? Or had my uncle stolen people away to form an army from his enemies?

My head swam with too many thoughts as I searched the space for Cormac and prayed that I wasn’t too late.

I didn’t like Cormac. He was arrogant and crude, and it was a wonder he could swim with the size of his ego weighing him down, but no one deserved to feel my uncle’s wires.

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