Page 29 of Fae Champion

But my existence in Embermere was a true matter of life and death, and what I wanted—what my body craved—didn’t matter. Not enough anyhow. It shouldn’t.

Itcouldn’t.

Once I escaped the queen’s clutches and was far, far away, I’d forget about Rush. Maybe I’d accept Xeno’s advances. He was kind, fun, loyal, andhandsome, and we’d be happy enough together. Before long, I wouldn’t remember Rush at all.

Lies. Lies, lies, lies.

Itskedat the useless loop of my concerns, the sound sharp and echoing in the tunnel. Now was not the time for matters of the heart. Especially not with Rush. Never with the fine drake, Rush Vega.

It was thirst, I assured myself. Trauma, hunger, sleeplessness, that’s all any of that was.

My fingers snagged on an indentation. I moved past it before backtracking and running my hands along the outline of what was definitely a door opening on the left side of the passage.

My heart sped up again. I had no idea where this doorway led, other than to Rush. It was definitely the idea of my possible escape that had my heart thumping hopefully, not the man.

But when I found a doorknob and turned it, the door didn’t give. It was locked.

It’s all right, I told myself even as I began to worry that I’d put my trust in the wrong person. Finnian had kind eyes, but that was practically all I knew about the man. He worked for the king, which meant he ultimately worked for the queen, and he’d been one of my original kidnappers. He could be testing my obedience, and since I failed—of course I did—he was delivering me to her for my execution. Now that she had proof of my willingness to escape, it would be off with my head.

I walked faster now down the passage, my armsoutstretched to either side, my fingertips already sore from the friction.

Reed had been there too, as a lookout, and I trusted Reed.

But you barely know him either. His benevolence could be a trick. The fae are known for their skill in deception.

I found another door. It, too, was locked.

I rushed through the tunnel, which seemed to grow smaller and tighter by the passing minute. My breaths came faster, and so obvious was the change that I had to force myself to slow down, to breathe deeply, to calm myself.

Finnian never said it was the very next door that Rush would be waiting behind.

Everything was still okay.

I tripped and stumbled. I caught my fall against the wall, the impact jarring my wrist.

“Dammit,” I growled, shaking out my hand. My wrist bone throbbed. “Just what I needed.”

But when my fingers snagged across the next doorway, this one on the right, I forgot all about my wrist.

I twisted the doorknob and pushed?—

The door opened inward into a dimly lit room lined with shelves filled with a collection of colorful glass jars of all sizes. Rush had been pacing the small space. He whirled toward me, his long hair spinning behind him. Without saying a word, those silver eyes of his narrowed as he examined every part of me. His jaw hardened at what he saw.

Much like Finnian, he pressed a finger to those lush, soft, bright lips of his I was trying hard not to notice—so not the time, Elowyn. He shut the door behind me, dropped a narrow tapestry over it—this one adorned with crawling vines, nasty thorns, and stunning flowers instead of dead dragons—and took my hand, tugging me toward the only other exit in the room.

I hissed quietly as pain flared in my wrist.

Once more, he whirled. This time, his eyes seemed to brew a thunderstorm.

I shook my head and offered a smile I didn’t really feel, trying to reassure him. He’d told me not to speak, and I sure as dragonfire wouldn’t be the one to bring about our discovery.

When he still looked like he was trying to decide exactly which assholes to punish for my pain, I waved away his concerns with both hands and put my sore one back in his.

See? I’m fine, I was saying.

He studied me for another series of long seconds before gingerly lowering that hand to my side and exchanging it for the other. Then he led me out the door into an empty hall, through an open threshold, up several flights of inelegant, narrow stairs, and through another doorway. From there, we entered a second tunnel, but this time one of the glowing orbs awaited us inside. We hurried down the passageway, past many doors, until we popped out into a hallway. This one wasgrander, wider, its fixtures more opulent. Large paintings of elves and other fae, of forests and lakes, hung heavily from the walls in thick, gilded frames. Rush’s head seemed on a swivel with how often he scanned our surroundings. His nerves were infectious. I practically stepped on his heels in my haste to get out of the open.

He pulled us through a door, next into yet another tunnel, and once we were inside he took a moment to lean against the wall—now nicely finished with plaster and illuminated by dozens of hovering orbs—breathing deeply before leading me down it.

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