Page 26 of What Sleeps Within the Cove

I climbed down from Fenrir’s back, striding up to the very edge of the river and staring down into it. The waters churned angrily, waves crashing against one another in a chaotic rhythm that made no sense. There was no rhyme or reason to the current, just pure, unrelenting rage.

“What is the trial?” I asked, turning to look back at the Morrigan. The riverbank was void of any life aside from ours, leaving me to wonder exactly how I was to prove myself. There was nothing for me to defeat, no monster for me to fight.

“That’s only for you to know.”

“The trial changes for every being who enters the river. No two trials are alike, because it is tailored to you. It is meant to testyou, no one else,” Badb answered, laying a hand upon my shoulder. “And you must face it alone, Tempest.”

I nodded, glancing over my shoulder at the raging river. Of all the things I’d thought I might need to do in the trial, jumping into white waters and expecting to come out alive hadn’t been one of them.

I didn’t even know how to swim, thanks to spending my entire life in Mistfell where the waters were entirely forbidden.

I swallowed, my gut churning like the waters below. Badb’s hand pushed at my shoulder, toppling me off balance as my foot slid down the edge of the muddy bank.

She smiled sadly as she pressed more firmly, sending me careening backward. I toppled head over foot, spinning as I fell backward into the waters below.

My world stopped the moment I crashed into the surface, the impact stealing the breath from my lungs. The current caught me immediately, thrashing me about in the waters as it filled my lungs. I hadn’t had time to get a breath, couldn’t breathe beneath the white currents and couldn’t find any bearings as my chest burned.

The burn spread, filling every corner of me with a fire that I couldn’tremember feeling, that I only remembered seeing staring back at me through the eyes of my enemies who thought me an abomination.

Hatred.

Pure, fiery hatred filled my lungs and my veins, making my blood boil beneath the surface of my skin.

My world went red as the river sucked me under the current completely.

SEVENTEEN

ESTRELLA

I fell through the bottom of the river, the water vanishing as I landed on the dirt. My cheek smacked against the surface as a strangled growl rumbled in my chest. Pushing to my feet, I found my blades in hand before I even had time to stand, spinning them dramatically as I looked about the arena I’d found myself in. The sand I stood upon was shaped in a circle, burning hot. A glance overhead showed the river flowing above me, held back by some kind of magical barrier. The water looked cool, refreshing somehow, even when logic told me it was the reason for the hatred churning in my gut.

Still, I couldn’t deny that hatred. Couldn’t see past the blinding rage as I looked into the arena. Countless spectators cheered from their seats, sitting upon the stone-crafted benches of a stadium.

They’d come to watch me die. To watch me fight and struggle against something that would be futile in the end. There would be no stopping me from demanding blood, no stopping me from slaughtering them all.

I did not exist for their entertainment. I did not exist to be used and looked upon like a curiosity—whether it was trapped within a gilded cage or sacrificed to a battle I hadn’t chosen.

I felt nothing but rage as I studied the faces staring back at me, spinning in a circle, my twin blades held tightly within my hands. Nothing compared to the complete, mind-numbing anger I felt as I paused, my gaze landing on the golden-eyed man standing beneath a canopy. He was sheltered from the sun, his shaded oasis filled with living plants and greenery. A jug of water rested beside him, and it was only then that I acknowledged the truth of my own thirst.

He raised the jug, pouring the water into a sheepskin canteen slowly. Screwing the lid on tight, he tossed it down the sands of the arena below him, quirking an eyebrow as if he expected me to thank him for the gift.

I remained standing still, even though every bone in my body wished to move for the water. The river that had filled my lungs had done nothing to quench my thirst, only making me crave true refreshment more. Khaos pursed his lips, running his tongue over his teeth. “You disappoint me, daughter,” he said, seeming so confident that I didn’t know the truth of his identity. He’d silenced Nemain before she could reveal it, after all. He’d expected the word to rattle me, to get a reaction from me when I already knew the truth of who he was.

And I suspected he couldn’t hear the words Fenrir whispered in my mind. Whatever bond he had with the wolves, it was unique to mine. Separate enough in the end.

“I live to please,” I said, keeping the truth I knew to myself. There was no telling when such information might come in handy, and ifthiswas what he had in store for me as his child?

I wanted no part in any of his grand plans.

“I had thought your survival instincts were greater than your foolish pride,” he said, dropping into his seat gracefully. The golden cloth that was draped over one of his shoulders shifted as he did so, moving to keep him covered equally no matter the position he assumed.

“Then you clearly do not know me at all,” I said, smiling sweetly as I contemplated how long it would take me to climb the mantle and reach his seating area. I doubted I’d make it before he struck me down with the golden power that shimmered behind his eyes.

I took a step forward, preparing to risk his wrath in my anger over the position he’d put me in. If he possessed any kind of loveor loyalty for his child, he’d have allowed me to skip the trials altogether and given me just what I needed to defeat his other daughter.

A monster of his own making. Created through his own ignorance and foolishness.

I knew my anger was unreasonable—that my hatred for him not telling me the truth wasn’t like me and yet…

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