Page 8 of Beyond the Mountain (Fae's Captive 4)

“Vicious.” I hold his gaze in the mirror. “I’m impressed.”

“Not as much as I am. You are a true beauty. Not unlike your mother was, though you are so much more than she could ever be.” He gestures for me to lift my hair. “You were foretold long ago. Your wings of death and your power to destroy the realms.”

“Tell me the rest of the prophecy.”

“You don’t know it?”

“The Vundi witch didn’t finish it before she was killed.”

“Very well. ‘A child of many worlds, clothed in light, will come home. On wings of death, the child will glide to sit on her throne of bone. The realms will bend to her command, she has but to choose. She alone can start the war and be victorious, win or lose.’”

“That doesn’t entirely make sense.”

“Prophecies never do.” He clucks his tongue and holds the necklace up for me. “But it gives us enough. You are the spark we need to start the war, to end the summer realm and take winter back.”

I lick my lips. “The summer realm will fall. They thought they could break me. My waves of death will roll over them like an unrelenting ocean.” I pull my hair up and he drapes the necklace around my throat. It’s a simple golden vial with what looks like blood inside. “What is it?”

He centers the pendant for me, his cold fingers sending ugly prickles along my skin. “A phylactery.”

I stare at him blankly.

“It contains a small bit of my essence. Something of me that you can keep with you always.” He squeezes my shoulders. “Do you like it?”

For an evil king, my father sure is turning out to be a pussy. I wonder how long it will take me to overthrow him. A day? Maybe two? Or maybe I should keep him around just long enough to take the realms, and then dethrone him in front of an audience. Taking his head will certainly set the tone for my reign. I force a smile.

It’s enough to get one in return from him. “Now, how would you like a flying lesson as we discuss our battle plans?”

“I need lessons?” I scoff.

“I suppose we’ll find out.” He opens the door for me. “Flying is critical, and of course we’ll need to practice reanimation and a few other tricks.”

“I’d prefer to kill.”

“Of course.” He laughs. “That’s the fun part. It’s too easy. Reanimation is where the real work comes in, but you’ll find it quite useful. We have a living army now, but we’ll lose numbers as we march eastward. With our abilities combined, we can bring back quite a few of them to rejoin our numbers. But you need practice. I want you to focus on bringing them back, then the reward will be killing once we’ve begun our march toward Byrn Varyndr.”

I follow him out toward the cavern with the tree, the undead snapping to attention as best they can when we walk past. Cenet stands next to the twisted trunk, inspecting its branches as if he’s not listening to every word we say.

“Father.” He turns toward us, his eyes back to looking almost normal. But he’s a lesser fae. Utter trash. My father should be ashamed that he ever touched a lesser fae female, and even more ashamed of this filthy offspring.

“Aren’t you supposed to be training with the troops?” Shathinor keeps walking past him.

“I would like a word.”

“We’re busy.” I turn on my heel and face him.

“I wasn’t speaking to you.”

“Are we playing the usual sibling games?” I simper and let the darkness ooze from my fingertips. “Because I’m very interested in a contest. One where the winner pisses on her brother’s corpse.”

His eyes change, and his claws lengthen. “Let’s do this, bitch.”

“Stop!” Shathinor roars and steps between us. “I am king here. And you two will obey me. Cenet, stand down. You owe your sister your allegiance just as you owe it to me. She is chosen. She was foretold. On her wings—and mine—we will claim the summer and winter realms, and then all of Arin. She is the key to our victory.” His tone turns icy. “And I will not have you challenging me on any of this. Do you understand?”

Cenet’s lips press into a harsh line.

“I said do you understand?” Shathinor bellows, sending rocks and shards of stalactites crashing to the cavern floor.

“Yes, Father.” He bows his head.

Pity, I would have enjoyed removing it.

“Come, daughter.” He walks to the sheer cliff that looks out over the valley, the sun just barely tipping over the horizon.

I shake my wings, the new muscles sore and unwieldly. The world rolls out before me, everything there for the taking. All I have to do is claim it for my own. I peer over the edge. The fall would definitely kill me, but what if I could soar? The breeze picks up and ruffles my feathers, the sensation sending goosebumps down my back.

“Afraid, dear princess?” Shathinor spreads his wings and jumps, his power on full display.

I hold my breath as he dives a bit, then flaps and shoots up into the air, his dark shape marring the coming day. He makes it look easy.

There is no place for fear, no time for weakness. That was the old me, the one who was made to suffer and die. I am immortal. My reign will be forever. I back away and take a deep breath.

“Yes, walk away. That’s not safe.” The nagging voice is there again. I want to kill it.

I plant my foot and stare out at the coming dawn. This is what I was made for. It has to be. I take off at a run.

“Are you nuts? Noooo!”

I jump from the cave and try to spread my wings. The wind pushes them back, and I plummet straight down like a fallen angel.

8

Leander

Blood spurts from the last viper, its melon-sized head dropping to the sand with a thunk. I sheathe my sword and wipe the sweat from my brow. The foothills beckon, the mountains casting long shadows that promise relief from the unrelenting heat, sand, and cracked dirt of the Barren Lands.

Sometimes I think I can sense Taylor, but then it’s gone, like a wisp of smoke I can’t catch.

Selene snatches up the viper’s long, coiling body. “For my collection.” She stuffs it inside a knapsack turned black with blood and filled with bits and pieces of the many vicious creatures we’ve had to slay to simply make it this far.

Ravella wrinkles her nose, but Gray laughs.

Thorn scouts out ahead, his gray eagle’s wings melding into the dark mountains. He’s been gone for over half the day, the burning sun a near-constant companion as we slog through the barren soil. What I wouldn’t give for a dousing of snow and a brush of the bitterest wind. But I would give more for one moment with Taylor.

“We’re getting closer.” Selene stares up at the craggy peak ahead of us. “The darkness grows, and I can feel the drums.” She thumps her chest in a steady rhythm. “Can you hear it? Can you imagine the treats left behind in the coming battles?” Her mouth crackles into a grin. “So much beautiful offal.”

“Does anything else make you happy?” Valen guides the horses along behind us, careful to keep them on the path we tread lest they stray into the sinking sands. “Anything other than … pieces of things?”

She fluffs her hair and twirls back to Valen. “Why? Do you think you could make me happy?”

“I don’t—”

“Because you could.” She runs her claw along his cheek. “Your guts would please me for days on end.”

“That’s enough.” I shield my eyes from the sun and search the mountainside for any sign of Thorn.

“He’ll be back soon.” Ravella takes a swig from her canteen and hands it to me. “I still can’t go through the vale. I keep trying, but something in this place blocks me.”

“Ravella.” I yank her behind me and cut the head off an enormous black scorpion that was poised to strike. “At least now we know why no one ever returns from the Gray Mountains.”

“By the Ancestors!” She kicks its head into a thorny plant. “I’d rather face ten ice bears than deal with one more of these abominations. A week in

this scorched waste has been plenty.”

One week. I pour a little water on my hand and rub it on my face. One week since I last held Taylor, since I felt her warmth. My teeth grind as I go through a never-ending list of worries, of fears for her. If the king beyond the mountain has harmed her—no matter how little—I will add days, maybe weeks to his suffering. He will die for touching her. That is certain. The only variable now is how much pain I will inflict before I send him to the Spires.

“We’ll find her, Leander.” Ravella squeezes my shoulder. “I know it.”

I nod. Emotion closes my throat. When I told Taylor I had never feared before I found her, I spoke the truth. The fear now? It guts me. Every day, every moment without her is a particular torture, especially when I can’t feel her through the bond. I don’t know if she’s hurt or crying or wishing for me the way I’m wishing for her.

Shake it off. I do. For the millionth time. I keep walking through this ghastly desert, because each step brings me closer to the one my soul loves.

“Ahead.” Gray pulls his warhammer from his back.

Through the hazy heat, a figure approaches, though it’s oddly misshapen, one side higher than the other.

I draw my sword as Ravella palms her knives. “Keep close.”

“Isn’t he a handsome devil?” Selene whistles.

I can’t see the figure, but I know the walk. That deadly prowl belongs to only one fae I know.

“Brannon.” I sheathe my sword as he appears through the waves of heat, Thorn perched on his shoulder. “I didn’t know you gave rides.”

He grins. “I shot him down, so I thought it was the least I could do.”

The eagle screeches angrily and makes a show of his bloody feathers.

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