Page 88 of Defy the Fae

Even my voice sounds mangled, shredded to bits as I croak, “Cerulean.”

“Won’t work,” a male voice mutters. “He’s out cold.”

My head snaps toward the figure squatting outside the cage. I expect to see one of the humans, maybe the dark-haired poacher whose gullet I’d like to squash in my fist.

Only it’s not the poacher. It’s not even a mortal.

Scorpio hunches a short distance from the bars, too far for me to punch my knuckles through his heart. The grille slices his face into halves, and smudges pour from under his lower eyelashes. One would think he’s been crying black tears.

Dark green leggings and a long, sleeveless shirt cling to his frame. And like Elixir and Foxglove, he gets around barefooted. Of all the mermen capable of shifting between land and water like my serpentine sibling, it has to be this dickhead.

Inwardly, I have a million and one homicidal thoughts. Each involves his dismembered body, starting with his itty-bitty cock.

Outwardly, I settle into a lazy pose, despite the mayhem this does to the trenches marring my back. “If you’re here for a conjugal visit, I’m taken.”

The Fae’s smirk is vacant, unable to reach his eyes. He notches his chin toward Cerulean. “They cut his feathers.”

Rage surges through my blood. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“If you want names, there’s a steep price for that information.”

“There’s also a steep price for baiting me. Go ahead and try it.”

“Knowing which humans pillaged your darling brother would allow you to avenge him properly. You’re not willing to bargain for that?”

“You must have me mistaken for a desperate sod who doesn’t know the difference between a deal and a trick. I invented that kind of mischief. If you’re looking for an easy target, you’ve picked the wrong cage.”

“Mostly, it was merchants who looted from Cerulean’s wings. The trade poachers took a few feathers, too,” Scorpio volunteers in a low tone. “Trophies like that fetch a hefty mortal price, more than the tusks, fangs, and fauna heads they like to display.”

That bit of knowledge brings a snarl to my mouth. “Why the change of heart?”

The Fae shrugs, the moon’s reflection coasting across his shoulders. “A bargain would have been nice, but my offer was just a warm-up. I have other goals.”

Goals being a euphemism for an ultimatum. I’m not about to fall for his bullshit, so I wait him out, which does exactly what silence will do to a visceral Fae like this one. It provokes him.

His pupils detonate as he clips his head toward the cage. “Look what they’ve done to you,” he instigates. “Look at how they’ve taken revenge.” While I just stare, his fanatical speech quickens. “They’ve mutilated you. They’ve stripped you of magic. They’ve caged you as if The Trapping never ended. It’s only a matter of time before Elixir is next.”

“Ah yes,” I muse. “I’m sure Elixir’s welfare is at the top of your list.”

Aggravation thrashes across his features. That, and spite.

Honestly, he left himself open for it. Elixir has dealt this pissant several blows—from minor, to mortifying, to massive. Scorpio’s interest in Elixir begins and ends there, and I don’t have the patience to pretend he isn’t using my brother as an agenda. Not while my shoulder has about twelve holes in it, and my back is cooking like it’s mounted on a fucking rotisserie.

Scorpio leans closer, setting a palm on the ground for balance. The posture reminds me of a reptile about to spring. “Your torture won’t satisfy them indefinitely. It’ll only stoke their confidence and boost their ambition. Imagine what these mortals will do to more Faeries if they ever catch them again.

“You think the humans will stay docile forever? We’ve been striking back for The Trapping, but that’ll last only so long before they stop cowering and start realizing battles can be fought twice. The only way to snuff out the problem is by sacrificing them, as we always have. It’s what they deserve. This—” he gestures to the cage, “—proves it.”

“Get to the punchline,” I tell him. “As it is, you’ve interrupted my nap.”

“I’m here to offer you both a truce. All you have to do is join us, side with us again, lead us as you once did.”

Well, I’ve got to hand it to him. At least he’s not power hungry. His passion isn’t to overthrow us, it’s to exact retribution by any means necessary, and to act on impulse. Such is the visceral nature of a water Fae, to say nothing of how malevolent Elixir used to be.

But when the merman’s rant fails to lift my eyebrows, Scorpio grimaces, as if betrayed all over again. “Juniper has a father, yes?”

I go still, and he uses that reaction to drive the knife in. “Where was he during your whipping? Why didn’t he show up to stop them?” Scorpio tilts his head, swamp-colored hair slanting over his face. “Perhaps the man wanted you and your brother to die for taking his daughters in the first place. Perhaps he was there and let it happen. Or perhaps he wasn’t in the crowd and felt elated to hear later what happened.”

It’s a direct shot to the gut. But from what Juniper’s told me about the man who raised her, he wouldn’t do what Scorpio’s saying.

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