Page 29 of The Forbidden Fae King

Gwyneth and Caitlin burst out of the castle’s entrance in a show of swinging doors and with a tail of guards behind them.

“Listen up everyone!” Gwyneth shouts, causing squawking birds to launch off the parapets. “You will learn hand-to-hand combat with mefor the next week.” She looks around the group appraisingly. “Form a circle around me. Yes, that's good. Now has anyone here had formal combat training? Swordcraft, archery, wrestling, or anything of the like? Step backward out of the circle if you have.”

I step out of the group, along with all the other daughters of lords and women who have trained as guards.

“Great. I want you to form the first group,” Gwyneth continues. “Any women who are proficient hunters or who are at least semi-professional in wrestling or boxing or another fighting sport, step out of the circle and form another group.” Another sizeable chunk of the pilgrims move to her command.

Only four women are left, and Gwyneth probes them intently while Caitlin stands at her side, arms crossed. One woman has five older brothers and constantly brawled with them growing up. The other two are professional dancers and women of the night, with enough street smarts to survive. The fourth is an acrobat from the circus.

“This is a good group. Everyone has enough experience to hold their own,” Caitlin utters to Gwyneth, not bothering to lower her voice.

The captain of the guard nods. “The women who are drawn to the pilgrimage are almost always fighters.”

Gwyneth leads us out of the inner walls and toward the outdoor training field, with a group of Protector Guards flanking us. They will be our trainers for the week.

My boots squelch in mud. The air is fresh but not icy, and instead of frost glittering across the grass, small early flowers jewel the way. Winter has truly passed, and we are creeping toward the spring equinox. I bite my lip at the thought of that deadline. At the crossing.

“You haven’t mentioned Prince Finan in a week. Do you know that?” Caitlin murmurs.

I have hardly thought of him since the priestesses arrived, except to brush him off whenever our paths crossed. How strange, when he had once been the center of my universe.

The daily physical training is intense. We spar against each other, perfecting kicks and punches, how to defend or roll out of a grasp.

Each of us learns to fight against a male guard, as tall and broad as the male fae are legend to be. How to find his weaknesses, to disarm him and use those weapons against him, how to run and hide. I am paired with Liam and give him a good run for his money.

“Use everything you have in a fight against a fae,” Gwyneth announces during one session. “Anything can become a weapon. Snapped branches. Large stones. A handful of sand. If it comes to a fight, assume it will be to the death. But do everything in your power to a head-on confrontation. Forget your pride. One does not take on a bear with their hands alone.”

An entire afternoon is dedicated to throwing knives at bodies made of cloth and sand, and another wrestling huge guards with blunt knives, learning about the best places to cut.

“When are we going to practice archery?” Erin, a huntress, asks.

“We won’t,” Gwyneth says curtly. “Unless anyone wants a brief, private lesson outside of the class.” Eyes turn to her in shock, and she wipes her hands on her tunic, then claps them three times loudly. “Okay, everyone, listen here. There is one thing we must get straight. You are crossing into the Otherworld and masquerading as sweet, lost human girls looking to experience the fae world. Not as soldiers. Not as obvious assassins, though that is what some of you may be.

“The fae must see you as harmless fun. A passing curiosity. At the slightest perceived threat, they will destroy you. You will not engage in a direct attack and you will not have swords or a bow and arrows on you. A knife or two may be passable, perhaps even a staff, but no obvious weapons. That is why we will focus on hand-to-hand techniques.”

An icy shiver runs down my spine, and from the many pale faces around me, I know I am not the only one who is unnerved.

My entire body aches by the end of each day, and I return to the castle limping with smarting muscles and blistered feet. I cannot help the permanent smile on my face. I am working toward something thatis just for me, a bolster tomyidentity andmyachievements, and it feels great.

The final week is spent tutoring the pilgrims on their magical ability, and I take on a teaching role rather than that of a student. My father runs the classes, as the most powerful mage in our protectorate, accompanied by the strongest of the priestesses.

The powers of almost all the women are minimal, because any substantial wielder is scoured from the lands and given high-paying positions of prestige to work in our orchards or guard.

The weeks of training disappear in a flash, and I lose myself in them. Then the ceremony of the crossing is suddenly upon us.

Chapter 9

Keira

Ihardly sleep all night, tossing and turning under my blankets. I gasp awake, drenched in sweat and heart hammering, and with no recollection of the dream that caused the night terror. The shadows of the room choke me. I create a fire orb to chase them away, watching as it slowly makes a meandering path up to the ceiling.

What if I made a mistake? If the risks of the pilgrimage are too high?

I must be insane for choosing to trespass into the lands of our greatest enemy, like a lamb to the sacrifice.

I slip out of bed and pad to the barred windows, pulling back the velvet curtains and sliding open the small glass pane. Cool air rushes over my face, causing a shiver to run down my spine, but relaxing the knots of my mind.

I can do this.

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