Page 65 of Vicious Princess
Instead of doing as I ask, Daegel yanks me towards him.
I brace my free hand on his broad, hard chest. I’m flushed all over, overcome with lust. But I don’t let it show. I glower at him through my lashes.
“I said to stay close to me.” Daegel’s whisper is full of warning. “It’s better if they think you belong to me. Trust me on this one.”
I huff and push myself off him. He smells like the forest after rain. I could drown in that scent for days on end.
“Who’sthey?”
Daegel points a finger at the platform with three shadowed figures.
I want to know who they are, but Daegel doesn’t offer any answers. So I say, “I don’t understand why I’m here.”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
He leads me through the crowd, closer to the fence. Once we reach it, I see what’s on the other side.
Three fae with bows in hand stand on the other side, their backs to us. In front of them, the hall stretches a long way. At the very end of it is a tall wall. I squint, unsure if I should trust my eyes about what I’m seeing.
On that wall hang five fae. Alive, squirming in place. Their hands are tied with ropes above their head, but their legs are free. They keep on kicking, as if trying to find solid ground. As if that would help them break free.
“What the fuck.” I breathe out the words.
“This is calledAni-ki-ga,” Daegel whispers into my ear. His warm breath tickles my neck. “It’s a sort of competition between archers. The rules are simple—the one who hits the most live targets wins.”
I turn to him. “How is this legal? This is essentially competitive murder.”
Daegel’s face is unreadable as his gaze searches my face. “It’s not. And not always. Sometimes, the targets live to see another day.”
“Who are those targets? How are they selected?”
A shrug of broad shoulders. “Nameless homeless folk who happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
I blink at him. These damn fae have the audacity to call us—humans—yrathibarbarians and judge us for our ways of training Decarios. Yet this is not considered brutal?
“This is unnecessary cruelty.”
“So is life, Wildarrow.”
Is he a fucking poet now?
I bristle. “Once again, why are we here?”
Daegel jerks his chin at the archers. “Watch them. Observe how they use their weapons. Tell me if you can notice who’s a Phantom Ranger, who’s mastered their bow, and who has not.”
I glance at the archers over my shoulder and then back at Daegel. “These are Ezkai? Is this what thehonorablemembers of the ancient Order do in their free time?”
Daegel shakes his head.Interesting.So these men are rogue Decarios, like the inn owner Kazh and her men. “Pay attention, Wildarrow. You might be surprised at how much you can learn.”
I turn my back to Daegel and face the iron fence. The archers are lined up a few feet away from each other. I can’t see their faces from where we stand, but their shoulders are squared. Rigid.
These fae are not here to play. They’re ready for a kill.
One of the shadowed figures raises their hand. The first archer steps forwards and lifts their bow. Adrenaline surges through me at the sight of the arrow being drawn. I flex my fingers, my mouth going dry.
I hear the song of my bow hanging on my shoulder. My blood pulses with life, my fingers itching to feel the tightness of the string and the sturdiness of the frame.
I shift my weight from one foot to another. Tension builds as the archer prepares to strike. When the arrow whizzes through the air, all the hair at the back of my neck stands.
