Page 118 of Throne of Dreams
Dian gripped her shoulder, and she spun to face him. He pressed a finger to his mouth, urging her to be quiet, then tapped his ear.
Tiernan strained to listen. At first, there was nothing. Then he caught the faintest sound of whimpering. Without speaking, he motioned all of them forward, to the passage on the left, following the muffled sounds of crying.
The passage opened into a vast room with no light, and the ceiling was composed of dirt and stone. Metal bars protruded from the ground up to the earthen cave above them. Broken sobs and pleas sounded in his ears, echoing all around them.
Saoirse gripped Maeve’s hand “Are these—”
“Cages,” she finished for her and crept over to the one nearest her.
There were seven cells altogether, each one crammed full of bodies. Faces peered up at her, sunken eyes squinted against the abrupt light source. Filth matted their hair, cuts and bruises marred their ashen skin, and their cries grew frantic as malnourished limbs jutted out from between the bars, desperate for release.
“Help us!”
“Gods save us, please!”
The frenzied voices of the innocent keened and begged for freedom.
Maeve knelt before one of them, whispering promises she couldn’t keep. “Tiernan.” She glanced over her shoulder back at him, hoisting her sword to spread the light between them. “They’re mortal.”
“Right you are, High Princess.” An ominous voice reverberated through the dungeon and the humans trapped inside the cells wailed.
The color drained from Maeve’s face as she shot to her feet.
Tiernan’s blood ran cold, then pumped full of fury. The destruction swirling inside him roared to life.
Fearghal.
“On your guard!” he shouted, withdrawing both swords. He snagged Maeve’s arm, yanking her to him. Tethra and Balor swarmed around them, and Dian took up Saoirse’s opposite side.
Menacing laughter bounced off the walls. Fearghal’s voice assaulted them from every direction. Though Maeve’s sword shone brighter than the dawn, the darkness lashed against it, attempting to snuff it out completely. She raised her arm in a slashing arc, cutting through the pitch threatening to engulf them. Sparks exploded through the underground room, illuminating it in its entirety. But Fearghal was nowhere to be seen.
“It’s interesting, is it not?” His voice slithered through the space and climbed the damp walls. “How a meek and nearly useless creature can become a monster.”
Maeve spun, trying to find the source of his voice. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t thesemortalslook familiar?” Fearghal crooned. “They are the same as the dark fae you destroyed the night the Scathing ripped through Kells.”
“No.” Maeve edged closer to one of the cells, eyeing the humans who clawed over one another in despair and anguish. She shook her head. “No, it can’t be true.”
Another unpleasant chuckle scraped throughout the chamber like nails being dragged down a stone wall. “Allow me to demonstrate.”
The scent of magic permeated the air. The once familiar smell of orange blossom and cedarwood was polluted, rancid, suffocating them with the stench of wilted flowers and rotten wood.
Tiernan lurched forward and grabbed Maeve, hauling her away from the cages as the mortals were glamoured and transformed into beings of the night. They howled, their panicked cries shifting into angered shrieks. Their bones cracked, their jaws dislocated, their limbs elongated. Before his eyes, the humans morphed into dark fae. Dozens of them bore sharpened teeth like daggers and hollowed, glowing pits for eyes. They became vicious. Rabid. Hungry for blood. Some of them grew nails the length of a sword, others climbed up the walls and sank their pointed teeth into the metal bars, gnawing at their enclosure the way a pack animal might devour its prey.
“Impossible,” Maeve breathed, her eyes widening in horror.
“Nothing is impossible,” Fearghal scoffed, “with the right kind of magic.”
Saoirse spat, disgusted. “You sick fuck.”
Another smug laugh sounded, this one closer than the last. “I like your mouth, pretty warrior. Perhaps when all this is over, I’ll claim it with my own.”
Maeve swung violently, and her sword slashed through nothing but air.
“Come now, Maeve.” Anticipation dripped from Fearghal’s words. “I believe you owe me a dance.”
At once, the bars barricading the cell doors vanished, and the dark fae descended upon them.
