Page 124 of Unraveled
The blood moonhits differently in the fae lands, especially since I stopped fearing it and grew to understand it. Three months ago, the celebrations were small as Aphelion healed from ten years of the curse, and we waited for those who’d left to return home. Tonight, though, the unseelie indulge in their revelry.
Fire burns in a clearing right outside the castle’s walls. We aren’t too far from where I saw Irene and Finley last, but even though those memories weigh my soul down, they don’t take away my excitement for the Wild Hunt celebrations.
Fae circle the bonfire, dancing in white clothes with gold paint smeared over their skin. They’re all wild with something I can’t name, though I feel it may be contagious. The drums in the circle have my heart skipping beats and my stomach fluttering with anticipation as I watch Ash dance in the firelight with our people. Naheli sits behind him, so massive she’s at least six feet taller than he is, and he’s already tall himself.
Her magic—and that of the spirits of the Hunt—blends with every shadow around us. I hear the whispers of spirits I can’t quite see with my human—hybrid—eyes. But the fae can.
“Your Majesty, would you like more wine?” A fae approaches me with a tray of drinks. She’s wearing the same white clothes as everyone else, and her shining skin tells me she was probably dancing recently.
My heart jolts at her words. “I’m not the queen.”
I can’t quite get over that I’m now considered one to the unseelie, even though we haven’t had the ceremony yet. I guess that to the fae, being mates is an unspoken, binding contract. It takes everything in me to not touch the delicate silver crown resting on my head.
Not the queen’s crown, but that of the king’s mate—which apparently is the same.
“Not yet, I suppose.” She smiles when I accept a glass and take a tentative sip. “How do you like the Hunt, ma’am?”
The sweet wine goes down the wrong way, and I pat my chest as I cough. “It’s not what I expected...” I admit, feeling my face grow warm as my eyes find humans and hybrids dancing in the woods with the fae. All of them bear the mark of the unseelie. Eyes that are just a little different, with similar coloring to the fae who claimed them. I’ve never worn the mark of Ash’s tribute, like Finley and Morla did.
Our bond’s always been different.
“Did you expect us to run through towns and take humans?”
I’m nodding before I can stop myself.
“We did, before. Once His Majesty took the throne, though, we transitioned to celebrating in the forest with the spirits.”
I imagine that may be the reason fewer sorcerers have been reported being born back in Penumbra in recent years. I look at Ash again and bring the wine back to my lips. He moves with the sound of the music, and even from where I stand on the edges of the dance circle, I can spot the feathers stretching up his forearms and getting lost under the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt.
He meets my gaze from across the crowd, and my core flutters with the heat—the intensity—in it. I clear my throat and down my drink in one go, and distantly hear my new fae friend excuse herself, as Ash stops dancing and prowls toward me.
I take in the lusty daze in his eyes, and the peppering of black dots, feathers, over his neck. Like when he was cursed. I wonder if his spirit form reveals itself even slightly during every blood moon. Not that I’m complaining. I quite like his feathers and wilder nature.
“Monster, why aren’t you dancing with us?” He leans against the tree behind me, caging me in.
“I’m tired.”
I haven’t been dancing at all, and he knows it. I’m too caught up taking in every little detail of what goes on around me during the Wild Hunt to care about moving my body—not in that way.
“Liar,” he says and catches my chin with two fingers, tilting my head up so his mouth lingers close over mine. “You’re just curious about what the fae do tonight.”
“Can you blame me? I grew up hearing about this.” I press my hand to his chest and love the beating of his heart. “I was expecting for there to be some hunting going on... This is a little disappointing.”
“You want to be hunted?” When I meet his gaze, I know his head is in the same place mine just went to.
Liquid pools between my legs, and I find it hard to speak, let alone meet his challenge. “Like you could catch me...” I say, sounding a lot less sure than I mean to.
His lips hover so close, I can feel them graze over mine. “It’ll be so easy. I could do it in the dark.”
I push aside the hunger burning inside me. “Is that so?”
He opens his lips just briefly before I call upon the revealing spell and blind him with it. Sneaking under his arm as fast as I can, I narrowly escape him, weave between a few fae whocomplain about the sudden brightness, and then I’m sprinting over leaves and sticks toward the castle.
My heart pounds as I dart through the shadowy corridors. The air burns in my lungs, and I struggle to catch my breath, but I push myself to go faster. The rhythm of the drums outside keeps me moving. Even here, deep in the castle, I can hear the laughter of the drunken fae I left behind. My dress smells like a cocktail of fae wine and smoke from the campfire that has been burning since midday.
I turn a corner, and my gown sticks to my sweaty skin. Studying every single nook and cranny around me, I take in the new paintings that decorate the halls, the arrangements of white roses in tall urn-like vases.
I’m easy prey. He’ll quickly find me here.
