Page 21 of Court of Evil

“If you cannot do whatever she wishes, we are all dead. I can endure pain?—”

“I could not endure your pain,” I snap. “Let us focus.”

Our gazes clash, and his voice softens. “She could ask anything of you.”

“I know,” I murmur, “but I have a feeling this is why she allowed the healer to save me—she hopes I can help. If she believes I can, then I have to trust it’s something I can do and survive.”

“That’s a lot of blind trust,” Ronan mutters.

“Sometimes that’s all we have,” I retort as I glance at him. “Why did you come for me? Why did you risk it all to save me?”

“I am your commander—” Shamus begins.

“You would do this for any of your soldiers?” I interrupt incredulously.

His lips purse, and Ronan chuckles. “She got you good, brother.”

“Shut up, Row,” he mutters and nods forward. “Do not keep her waiting. The fae are not patient creatures.”

“We will discuss this when we get out of here alive,” I warn him.

“Yes, we will,” he replies, always needing to have the last word.

Rolling my eyes, I hurry to keep up with the fae as we move through the streets, the crowd dispersing in disappointment now that human pain is off the table.

One moment, we are walking the empty streets on the outskirts of town, and the next the landscape transforms around us and we stand before the entrance of a cave.

“This is definitely where the creepy, glowing fae lady murders us . . . well, you two,” Ronan supplies helpfully.

The fae glances back at us, her eyebrow arched. “I could blink and kill you. I would not spill blood here, however, so do not fear.” She steps inside, and we have no choice but to follow.

I expected it to be damp, but thousands of candles cover a wall with jagged steps leading down. We descend them quickly, and at the bottom, I stare in awe at the circular room. The ceilings are so high, I cannot see the top, and light filters in through holes all around, shining on a stone slab in the middle where a body rests, unmoving.

“What is this?” I ask.

She stops at the edge of the raised dais and stares at the body for a moment before glancing back at me. “This is your payment. You must wake him.”

“Wake him from what?” I ask.

“He is trapped in his mind. I worry it will warp him. You will free him.” She steps back, and I stare at the man on the stone, unable to see much from here.

“Who is he?” I query, a bad feeling building in my gut. You don’t wake a fae in a creepy cave, that is just rational thinking, but I suppose I don’t have much choice.

“That is not important. Free him and you will all be free to go. This is your payment.”

I breathe deeply, realising she will not tell me any more than that.

Tricky fae.

Glancing back at Ronan and Shamus, I see the commander narrow his eyes on me while Ronan gives me a cheeky grin and two thumbs up. Idiot ghost. I step onto the rock and still.

Something sends a shiver through me. The rock feels hungry, welcoming, as magic climbs up my legs and body, trying to devour me. Ignoring it, I head over, not stopping until I am above the man, and when I do, my mouth drops open.

I am not the kind to be swayed by beauty, but the man trapped in his mind on this stone is magnificently beautiful.

His features are delicate, almost feminine, with a small, slender nose speckled with freckles that extend across his high cheekbones. His jaw is pointed, but not too sharp, and his hair is an icy white, spread across the pillow below him, his pointed ears spearing through the strands. He looks like an angel—innocent, ethereal, and beautiful.

He wears a white and ivory fur collar doublet and trousers, and he almost looks as if he is sleeping, but when I lay my hand on his arm, I know differently.

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