Page 61 of The Maleficent Faerie
Easy enough for Royals and their retinue, living in the central parts of Midunnel. Not so easy, perhaps, for those living within sight of the Edge every day. Looking at it now, even as a gloomy suggestion in the far distance, I can’t help wondering how the villagers abiding in its shadow manage to stay sane.
The Void King takes flight, leaping off the back of our horse and wheeling over the land high above our group. He seems unsettled, unsatisfied. When he finally descends again, he hovers and points down, to part of the field on the left of the dirt track we’ve been following. By the time we have plowed through the grass to the spot he indicated, he magically flattened a wide circle of grass, making space for us to camp. The grass surrounding the circle is slightly taller than me. I don’t like not being able to see over it.
While we gather in the circle, Malec strides off into the grass, swearing as his wings drag against the stalks. He keeps his staff upraised, and the orb at its tip glows with a hectic light.
“He’s trying to call ravens.” Vandel takes the bridle of my horse, holding it steady while I dismount. He’s got a black eye he didn’t have yesterday. “These fields are usually full of crows and blackbirds. Nothing to be seen now, and it worries him.”
“That does seem strange.” My instincts flare at once, suspicion tightening my nerves. “You think the Caennith are close?”
“If he thought they were too close, we wouldn’t be stopping to rest.” Vandel eyes me cautiously, as if he thinks I might leap at him with my teeth bared.
“The horses do seem to need a breather.” I pat the heaving flank of my mount and glance around at the others—lowered heads, shining coats, froth on the lips of a couple horses. “We’ve been riding hard all day.”
Reehan saunters up to me and flicks a lock of my hair. “Some of us were ridden hard last night, weren’t we, Princess?”
“Careful,” says Vandel warningly.
“Oh, she’s been tamed. Haven’t you, love?” Reehan grins at me, his purple tongue flickering out. “Not so vicious now. Like every princess, she just needed to be shown that her place is beneath a King.”
Fitzell was wrong about this one. He isn’t just young and stupid—there’s real malice in him, and a lack of respect for anyone but himself.
Malec’s body and voice soothed me this afternoon, but my anger never left. It roars up again at Reehan’s words, a virulent river inside me, a molten flow that demands an outlet.
I shape my mouth into a sly smile and edge closer to Reehan, laying my fingers against his chest. “Maybe you’d like a ride, too.”
“Reehan, don’t.” Vandel glances over his shoulder, but the Void King is nowhere in sight.
Reehan licks his lips and lowers his voice. “I’d be game for a roll in the grass.”
“We’ll have to be quick, while the others are feeding and watering the horses,” I whisper. “Come with me.”
“She’s going to try to escape,” Vandel says.
I laugh lightly. “On foot? Where would I go?” I grab Reehan’s hand and pull him into the grass with me.
There is an upcoming scene of attempted rape (unsuccessful)—skip to the next break if you’d rather not read it.
I don’t take him far from the circle. Just far enough that his grunts of pain won’t be immediately audible. I need something to thrash, and he’s practically begging for a beating.
“I knew you were a little slut,” he says hoarsely, eagerly, gathering my tunic in both hands. I let him pull it off, revealing the chemise beneath. The fabric is ribbed, with cups designed for my breasts—not exactly a corset, but a pleasantly supportive undergarment I was grateful to receive this morning. And it shows off my breasts to full advantage, which Reehan seems to appreciate.
“Show me your tits,” he rasps, unbuttoning his pants. “Goddess, I can’t wait to fuck that royal pussy.”
When he pulls his cock out, I strike, slamming my boot against his crotch.
A shrill whine of pain escapes him, and he clamps both hands over his bruised genitals. “Bitch,” he wheezes. “Stupid Caennith whore… run if you want. You can’t escape us.”
“I don’t plan on escaping.” I whirl, slamming a roundhouse kick into the side of his face.
It’s a good kick, and it nearly knocks him over—but not quite. Because even though I’m far stronger than most women my age, I no longer have the benefit of my charmed rings and their simulation of Fae strength.
And Reehan is Fae.
He rights himself and glares at me with murder in his eyes.
I charge him again, landing a punch to his jaw—but he catches my arm, his fingers compressing tendons and bones with brute force. Pain flares through my forearm and I realize with sharp alarm that my rings must have also helped me heal faster than humans. No chance of that this time.
I slam my foot into Reehan’s stomach—almost, but he twists, so the impact I intended isn’t as great.
