Page 41 of The Forbidden Fae King

These homes are like the apartment buildings of the cities of my realm.

Boxy huts with peaked roofs jut out of the sides of the tree, the structures climbing up its height and supported on top of immense branches. Many have platform balconies that ring around the entire trunk, with railings of thick vines in bloom with giant bluebells.

I turn in almost a full circle to take it all in.

Every tree has living rope bridges connecting them. Each platform and jutting hut has external staircases and pathways between them.There are four ancient trees converted to fae homes, but within them there are enough buildings to support a small village.

“Thisis your military camp?” I cannot hide my wonder.

“It is one of many abandoned places we visit,” Klara states.

“What happened to this place?” My head spins at the idea of this beautiful, peaceful town completely deserted.

The signs of neglect are clear, like a garden that was once sculptured but has since been forgotten and allowed to grow wild.

Lengths of untamed vines hang chaotically from many of the structures. A couple of thatched roofs have partially fallen away and heavy pockets of decaying leaf litter threaten to damage others. A few windows are cracked and all are splattered with dirt, and sparse curtains of foliage hang over some. Slick moss grows on many of the staircases and ladders.

“The same thing that happened to many of the villages in the woods and wilds. High fae abandoned their duties to the land in these parts, in favor for the comforts and thrills of the cities.” She spits on the ground, then walks past me, beckoning with a hand toward those cooking pots.

I stare at the apartment buildings grown into trees for a few more seconds, wondering if I could draw them. If my oath to the order of the priestesses would allow me to document it.

The scent of flatbread sizzling in butter drags me to the present and forces me to follow Klara numbly.

My eyes trail again over the amassed band of fae warriors, rippling with muscle and strapped with countless weapons, their hidden magic the most dangerous aspect of them. I should be terrified. I should run as far and fast as I can. My legs should buckle under me and my mind turn to a racing mess, but I am far too spent. None of this feels real as dissociation takes me hard and fast.

I find myself standing before the fire, with a metal plate of food in my hands, and I have no idea how I got to this moment. To one side, Klara sits on one of the many logs, back to me and facing another fae woman, deep in conversation. She uses the flatbread to collect theyellow and red curries from her plate and spoons them into her mouth. I deposit myself onto a smoothed stone and copy suit.

My entire existence narrows down to that plate of food, my brain unable to process everything else around me. Perhaps the heat of the bread burns my fingers. Maybe the curry is aromatic, an explosion of flavors on my tongue that is warmth and comfort all in one. I don’t know if even a small part of me registers these things, or if my mind expects this. My senses no longer belong to me.

There is a yelling inside my head, drowning out all of my thoughts. A clawing that rips through me with talons of fire, to my stomach, my chest, right to my extremities.

I am a prisoner of the fae.

Caitlin is a prisoner of the fae.

We are slaves to their whims and I don’t know if we will ever get out.

I stare into that fire, the orange and yellow tongues dancing and flickering, drying out my eyes and still I cannot blink. My limbs are leaden. My head is groggy and the world swims around me.

I shudder with a start. The people around me have changed and full dark has fallen. Klara is nowhere to be seen, or Aldrin, but that fae with the wicked humor now sits next to me, feet up and sipping from a goblet. He must be my sentinel. I rack my mind for his name. Drake. He notices me staring at him wide-eyed, and tips his head at me.

“Aldrin is a good lord. You will see that.” Drake half-smiles. “He is fair, and cares about all people; high and low fae. Humans too, despite what they think of us.”

So, he is lord. I tuck that bit of information away, even if I’m not capable of responding.

“I don’t think she can hear you. Still too drained from the magic she used, but I am flattered you think of me in that way.” That familiar masculine voice floats to me, but I can’t quite put a finger on who it belongs to. “She must be in shock. I wasn’t expecting her to crash like this.”

I sway in my seat, blackness encroaching at the edges of my vision.

“What do we know of humans?” That man I had been staring at says. What was his name? Drake.

Someone curses. It is followed by sharp orders I can’t grasp.

That handsome tanned face with those serious amber eyes appears right in front of me, frowning. “Can you walk?”

I stand as if commanded, but the world tilts. Did they drug my food? Enchant me? Make me vulnerable and incapacitated, so I cannot escape, so I am dependent on my captors?

More low curses follow, something about a fragile human, but that cannot be me. I have always been a fighter. Independent. One of the strongest.

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