Page 130 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody
I slip away from Darstan to inspect my weapons and open the ornamented dwarven chest.
Shadows descend upon me in heavy waves. It’s different from my playful Ken. This is the kind of darkness possessed by dark beings of filth and decay, of malice and hatred.
My eyes fall on the dagger inside the box. It is unusually heavy for something of its size. The hilt is carved with some strange symbol. I smooth my fingers on the rune. A protection spell?
No.
This thing is laced with a curse… a vile one at that, waiting to strike on anyone who chances upon the chest.
The curse morphs into its true form, a white serpent. This weapon was made with so much hatred that it has spawn this wicked creature.
Kill everyone in sight, it commands me.
The cursed dagger appears to have a will of its own.Unleash me upon your enemy.
I lose a long, weary breath. “No.”
The pale snake blushes sheepishly at my answer.But—but I’ve waited so long to come out and play.
“Naughty little thing. I’ll purify you after the battle,” I tell the dagger, tucking it to my belt.
If you survive it,the serpent hisses.
I look at the empty spot in the chest. Rainer said there are supposed to be two of them. I try not to think where the other dagger one went.
The horses are saddled and ready by the time General Raleich finishes his inspiring speech. Unlike the Noctrals, these warhorses have been trained to ignore noises and balance the constantly shifting weight of their armored riders.
Darstan steadies my Völundr bred stallion for me to climb on. “Ready?”
I nod.
I brush my hand on Briallen’s shiny black coat. “We’re a long way from home my primrose,” I whisper to her.
The horse neighs in agreement.
A pit of dread, full of vipers, forms in my gut as we march to Tavan fortress. I can’t shake this sense of impending doom, like something awful is about to happen.
“Your Highness!” I turn my head to the familiar voice.
Shade returns from his scout on his silver horse. The cavalry makes way for him to come to me.
“Eastward, over on Tributo’s highest peak. A single rider and a wyvern,” he says in a single breath.
The news unsettles the generals and commanders. All heads turn in the direction of the mountain the assassin is pointing.
I don’t need a spyglass to guess who that fae is. Clad in a brutal black armor and a wyvern-carved helm.
Landon, Herald of the Wild Hunt.
The baying of the feral beast beneath him startles even the most battle-tested steed.
“It’s the Shadow Fae,” I tell the commanders calmly. “I believe he is here to witness.”
“Witness?” General Raleigh asks, his dark eyebrows pinching beneath his golden helm.
I nod, casting another look at the armored fae. “But prepare the anti-wyvern bolt anyway.”
“If he’s here to witness, then let’s give him a show, shall we?” Lord Nemarion says with a light-hearted chuckle.
