Page 9 of Heir to His Court

“I'm not—” I started to say, but stopped when I didn't recognize the voice coming from my throat. Even I winced. It was not a high-pitched cackle, or screeching moan, rather it was deep, raspy, edged in danger and a lure. Beckoning.

Nothelping.

I swallowed, dozens of pulsing heartbeats loud in my ears accompanied by the rush of blood through veins and I shuddered, gums swollen round lengthened incisors. My talons flexed again, and fury rose in us as the prey closed in, chittering, angry, daring to offer us threat.

We shrieked, hissing at the sweet bloods. Theydared—

“She's not moving!” someone shouted. “Subdue it for the Prince!”

“No, kill it. Do not suffer the Dark to live.”

We expected their fear. Our kind had once terrorized the realm with the Wild Hunt. Mother Juhainah’s children, only we possessed glorious second forms. We were the origin of their nightmares, of their tales of vampires and medusas and harpys and other powerful night creatures. We were the Fae who craved blood, scorned mercy, reveled in destruction.

I pulled my mind back under my sole control and whatever was broken in me had healed enough for me to roll on my side and curl into a ball as the blows rained down.

I ground my teeth, spending just as much energy reining in my instinct to lash out as I spent protecting my head and neck.

So far it was just feet and fists, no blades, no power. There was a cleanness to the beating which affirmed my faith in the Low Fae. If I kept my talons sheathed, I didn't think they would bring out knives or swords. They were fair, in their way, and I wouldnotharm them.

I thought this, even as I began to lose consciousness, and fought against it, knowing that if I blacked out, I would probably die.

I had to defend myself. I didn't want to hurt anyone, didn't want to kill innocents especially not when I understood their fear, fear right on the back of Renaud’s barely check rampage. Realms, did I understand. But I owed survival to so many people, even if the long-term question of my survival was. . .iffy.

I pushed to my feet and hissed, then threw back my head and let loose another shriek. They scattered back several feet as my wings rippled behind me. They came into my view, and I had a moment of surprise to observe they were leathery, thin, tipped with claws, nothing like Renaud’s iridescent black scaledprettywings, before I lashed out in a slow circle with my talons, extending my wings to their full span.

My back burned with the unfamiliar use of untrained muscles, and the wings tried to drag on the ground. I grit my teeth, kept them spread and. . .not floppy. It was just enough to keep the crowd at bay.

I turned and walk stumbled half a block, exhaustion turning my steps to lead as the angry crowd followed me, blood dripping down in a pretty trail against the white flagstones. Even at night, my blood glittered.

My energy gave out and my skin was brown again, my fingers soft, the tips rounded.

I was prey again.

The crowd converged.Raniel!I screamed. He'd always come before. Why hadn't he come now? Was this a punishment?

Shouting, a familiar masculine tenor, and the deliberate stomp of synchronized, militaristic feet. The crowd scattered and, on my knees, I looked up, swiping blood and sweat out of my eyes just as a warrior with luxurious dark wavy hair and desert skin, a cloak of silver trimmed in white satin around his shoulders, strode toward me.

“Baroun,” I croaked.

He knelt at my side, eyes glowing amber. “That was quite a display, little Darkling.”

Then he hauled me into his arms, snarling orders at his warriors, and I let myself faint.

Again.

Damnit.

ChapterFour

The darkness sucked me in. Of course it did.

I began to laugh, then cut it off because uncontrolled outward displays of helpless insanity were too undignified, even for me.

A female stepped forward, tall with sinewy strength in deceptively slender arms, her sea blue and blush sheath dress lending her an air of fragility. Hair the color of wheat draped over her shoulders to her waist and up tilted sky-blue eyes stared at me. The graceful tips of her pointed ears were pierced and strung with silver chains, tiny tinkling bells, and pretty pink shells.

I stared into my mother’s face and ruthlessly seized rage that wanted to howl and rend, because I would not give Juhainah the satisfaction of killing me because I’d attacked her. Let her find another excuse.

Petty insults, however. “You bitch,” I said, cold as my expression hardened. “You demented, unnaturalbitch.”

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