Page 42 of A Trial of Fate

These questions scared me more than the pain I knew I would likely endure.

My stomach growled into the emptiness of my cage and echoed off the stone walls of the underground abyss of darkness. I tried to think about anything else. Literally anything would be better than dwelling on the pain, hunger, or upcoming hell I would be forced to endure. My shackles rubbed against the bandage on my right arm where Daxton had bitten me, and I glanced down at the mark of stars on the other.

Steadying my shaking breath, images of Daxton entered my mind. I don’t know why I saw his face when I closed my eyes in the darkness of my cell or why I sought this memory out of all the others. But for whatever reason, it comforted me.

Daxton was the epitome of strength and power. Visible in every movement he made and the sound of his voice as he spoke. I recalled the last time I saw him in the meadow as I received my mark from theHigh Fae queen. The pride and gratitude in his expression was heartfelt and full of honor. He looked at me like I was a ray of hope awakened inside his soul after centuries of despair.

I was his hope.

My eyes adjusted to the blackness of my cell, and I could begin to make out the marking on my left forearm. “I will keep my promise,” I said aloud. “I will unlock the Heart of Valdor and save our world.” I didn’t know if anyone was listening, but I felt my animal surge inside my chest. The power inside me sang, and the fiery glow of my magic warmed my heart.

Time was a mystery trapped inside this iron prison. I didn’t know when I fell asleep, but the sound of a key moving inside the lock startled me from my restless slumber. I sat up from the wall and leaned forward with my hands resting quietly in my lap. Tiny was the first to enter, followed by Thorn.

“Get up,” Tiny barked.

This guy clearly didn’t know me very well, or else he would have used his manners and saidplease. I stared him down, refusing to move an inch. The tension in the underground lair was so thick you could slice it with a knife. Hot and thick. Like the humid climate after a blistering rainfall, except there was no rain here.

Only stone… only darkness.

Only me and my captors.

“I said get up, you mixed-blood bitch.”

“Do you know any other insults you could call me during our time together? I’ve heard that one before. And I’m worried about being bored to death. I would appreciate a more diverse vocabulary if you are intelligent enough to have one.”Well… that did it.

Tiny lunged forward and began beating me. His larger-than-average foot for a man his size struck me in my middle while he pounded my cheek with his fist. I felt my shoulder finally pop out of place as he stood on top of me to strike me harder. I could barely make out Thorn’s screams for him to stop. Finally, Thorn grabbed Tiny and held down his arms. He released one final kick to my back, making me whimper as I spat blood from my mouth.

I had been beaten up before—mostly when I was a kid—but thiswas different.

In my early years, I was picked on when Gilen or the others weren’t around to help protect me. Eventually, I learned how to fight back, and the last time someone tried to put their hands on me, I broke them. From then on, I proved I could defend myself, and I earned respect in the pack.

“The mage will see her wounds,” Thorn warned in a hushed whisper.

“Good. She deserves worse. Besides, he will heal her before the experiments begin. That’s how he keeps them alive to repeat the procedures, or did you forget that part?”

Not good.

Keeps them alive? What good would that do? Their mage was a healer?

It made sense why the mage was stationed here. Hunters were born “normal” humans and altered through magic. Their eyes were shined out with the intense light of the sun through a glass that burned the backs of their eyes. Only a healer could seal those types of wounds and have the subject survive. Their senses were also altered, granting them superior speed, annoyingly undetectable stealth, and immense strength in exchange for a piece of their humanity. When magic was used to alter the reality of the world likethis, it came at a steep price. They became creatures loyal to their maker and deadly to all who stood in their path.

My father, Emery, died defending our people against hunters. I cringed thinking about him in the hands of these creatures, but I was also thankful they never captured him. He died with honor defending our home, a task I was also willing to undertake for the sake of our pack. I sometimes wondered what would have happened if the hunters had not killed him or even if my mother had not abandoned me with the pack.

No. Abandoned was a bit harsh. A long time ago, I decided that being angry would only make things worse. I couldn’t change the fact that my mother did not raise me. That type of anger would only poison my soul. I decided as a child that I would paint her in a different light, believing she had no choice but to leave me. I was a hybrid. A shifter-human at risk of being used simply because I was different. I believe she left to protect me.

My prison guards positioned themselves on either side and hoisted me to my feet. I kept my eyes forward, not giving them thepleasure of seeing the fear that lurked deep inside in my cast-off stare. The trick was not denying that I was afraid. It was being strong enough to face it head-on.

I was carried—well, dragged would be a better description—down, surprise, surprise… a dark enclosed corridor to an open room at the end of the hall, off to the right of the main staircase. The heavy wooden door swung open, and my dry throat cracked. An iron table lay in the center, surrounded by small open canals with trickling water. Chains were bolted to the floor, and the scent of this room reminded me of death.

The sound of the babbling water was oddly comforting to me—something natural and clean in this unholy gods-forsaken pit. I decided to focus on that sound when I could no longer face my fears, and allow it to wash me away and take me somewhere safe.

Tiny and Thorn moved me to the table and forced me to lay on my back, arms and legs spread apart with my shackles chained to the floor. I was still wearing the same clothes I had on when I was captured. The beatings and time in the cage ride had torn at the loose ends, exposing my stomach, parts of my back, and many holes in what were once pants. My boots were discarded, but I didn’t care.

“She’s not in the prime condition I asked for.” The mage’s voice cracked the silence of the underground hideaway.

“She gave us some trouble and needed to be set straight,” Tiny said as he crossed his arms. A hint of pride beamed beneath the dark hooded cloak from his opal luminous eyes.

Prick. Fucking slime.

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