Page 122 of The Forbidden Fae King

The assassin immediately leaps into the air, base jumping in the way Aldrin tried to teach me. He moves at dizzying speed, dragging his sword upwards in a long arch to bring it down on my head in a mighty swipe. I only have a heartbeat to react. I run and slide across the stone floor, gliding under the assassin.

His blade slices clean through the doorway where I had been standing. I take control of all that wooden framing, realizing it is somehow alive, and rupture a volley of sharp missiles right in his face. A shaft pierces his thigh and cuts pepper his face, but it is nowhere near enough to stop a fae.

He turns, his hood thrown back and scowling when he realizes I am not some helpless human. Then he flicks his wrist and I am lifted off the ground and smashed into the wall, like a ragdoll caught in a gust of wind.

My head cracks. Jarring pain flashes through me. I try to scramble up, but I cannot control my limbs. Air wheezes in and out of me, and I just can’t get enough. I get tangled in the curtains, but finally turn back to the assassin.

Aldrin’s incoherent roar fills my ears.

My heart leaps as he rises from the bed, looking like a god of death. Thick horns erupt in a crown on top of his head. Black stripes of war paint decorate his face. His biceps ripple as he throws out his arms, then curls his hands and forearms back in.

The plaster walls explode around the assassin. The trees that are clearly the living bones of the palace erupt out of them and reach for the man. He leaps out of their whipping grasp and flies across the room. His two-handed sword slices clean through wood.

It is a game of cat and mouse.

I scramble out of the curtains, but there is nowhere to go. I would only be in Aldrin’s way. Branches explode out of the roof, following the trajectory of the assassin as he charges Aldrin. They stab and miss him by an inch.

The assassin leaps over Aldrin and smashes a downward blow ofthat white, shimmering blade on him. Aldrin catches it on an airshield held before his upraised arm. Sparks of starlight fly from the sword, illuminating the curve of Aldrin’s shield. The assassin’s entire body is poised in midair above him, as he uses his weight behind the blow.

The move is a mistake. Remaining still for even a moment seals the assassin’s fate.

Aldrin grins into the man’s face with a flash of teeth, an expression that is both terrifying and feral.

A dozen waiting branches whip out from the walls and ceiling, tearing into the assassin and coiling around him. The man wields his sword to slice away at the branches, and I shatter one into splinters and send them right through that wrist.

With a sharp blast of air, I thrust the blade from his hand.

It clatters to the floor.

Aldrin wraps the assassin up in a coiled, woody cocoon, looping again and again until he has no hope of breaking free. He hangs in the center of the room, blood dripping onto the ground in a rhythmic splatter from his wounds.

I stare with horror at what we have done.

Aldrin rushes for me, his hands gripping my shoulders as his eyes skate over me. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay.” I chew out. I don’t tell him how my head spins and my legs are unsteady.

Aldrin turns to the assassin, keeping his distance. Fury ripples through every line of his tall, broad form. “Who hired you to kill me in my home? In my sleep?”

The assassin’s face contorts into a sneer, his hands and feet twitching where they are free from the woody bindings. I take a step closer to Aldrin as fear flashes within me that he is readying for an attack with magic. Tendrils of shadows seem to whip and thrash around him, but they have no physical form.

It isn’t until the skin on his face mottles with blue and froth escapes from his lips, that I realize the assassin is dying. A few more moments, and he hangs limp in his bindings.

“Fuck.” Aldrin spits, backing away from the body. “A suicide curse.”

My whole body shakes uncontrollably and I let out a whimper. It is all I can do to stop myself from vomiting. I double over and grab hold of the side of the bed. I am not used to witnessing such violence, engaging in it, let alone watching a horrible, agonizing death. I have hunted animals, but I have never seen a person die before.

Aldrin is on me in a heartbeat, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me into his lap on the bed.

He looks over me frantically. “Are you hurt? Poisoned? Did the blade touch you?” His hands tremble as they hold onto me.

“No,” I utter, unable to look away from that dead body. “I thought he was going to kill you, Aldrin. I walked into the room and he had a sword held just above your heart.” Hot tears run down my face.

Aldrin shakes his head. Those curling horns are still out and black marks slash across his cheekbones and forehead. Rage is in full force within his burning eyes and his lips are pressed into a thin line. This is how he looked when I first met him, more feral animal than fae man. It absolutely terrified me before.

Now, I find safety with the monster within him.

This man would rip apart the world to protect me.

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