Page 19 of A Realm of Fire and Ash

Irid runs her fingers along the braid that hangs down her back. Five red ribbons are woven into the braid, and each one has a different jewel set in it. The light from a single fire-lit bulb swings from the ceiling and bathes the room in an uneven glow. Iris stares at the light. "No." She sighs, bored. "You can earn privileges, like the ability to settle in other parts of Aggonid's Realm, or you could even earn weapons and armor."

"Why would I need weapons?" I ask, tensing at her implication.

She meets my eyes, fingers paused on the ends of her hair. "For the Forsaken Hunt, of course."

"I have no idea what that is," I whisper, my voice reflecting the confusion I feel.

"It's a tradition here in the underworld," Irid explains. "Once every two months, the denizens of hell are allowed to participate in a hunt. Whoever catches and kills the most prey is granted a single favor from Aggonid."

My mouth goes dry. "And the prey are—"

She grins. "You. And anyone else with enough gall to foolishly enter the hunt."

"Why every two months? And what happens when they’re killed here?"

“When you die here, you simply cease to exist. Lights out.”

The idea is unsettling. She crouches so she's at my level, and I have to lean back as her breath fans my cheeks. Her solid frame nearly blocks out the light in the room, her piercing eyes exuding a fierce intensity. I can smell the sweat from her skin, though it isn't unpleasant.

"It’s for population control, and to keep those who can’t use their magic from going insane,” she sing-songs. “And during even months, we hunt."

"We?"

"Demon fae."

"That hardly seems fair. I'll sit that one out. I'm without magic and—"

"The Wild Pursuit isn't something you can bow out of. You don't get a prize, we do." She cuts me off. "No one is safe."

"Why hunt us?"

"We go feral for twenty-four hours every two months. It's the only time we can be the demons we truly are. To hunt, to feel."

I shrink back from her in horror as my mind flashes with the implications. "Feel?" That can't mean what I think it does.

Her finger traces my collar bone, and I'm paralyzed with fear as my breath locks in my lungs. "Fuck or fight, it makes no difference to us. We hunt for pleasure, Morte. We want to feel alive."

"Wha-what?" I can't even form words as nausea swims in my gut. Bracing myself on the bed frame, I meet her eyes. "How many of you are there?"

"Hundreds," she gloats from her throne. "Though only a handful of us in the court."

I slump farther into my crouch. "For pleasure." I hunker down, arms crossed over my knees. Even the back of my fingers throb. "When?"

She waves me away with an absent gesture. "Three weeks’ time." Her voice holds a note of cheer, as if she's given me excellent news. "Which brings me to our bargain."

Her light eyes flick to mine with something like pity. I watch her, the way she moves and the language her body displays. She is wary, like a wild animal, though cunning. I blink back frustrated tears. Whatever I choose, I'm doomed.

I unclench my jaw. "Go on," I whisper, my throat tight.

Her lips curl into a smirk and after a moment, she speaks, fingers tapping on her arm. "In exchange for these fine accommodations," she gestures to the squat room, "you will wear this." Irid slips a silver necklace from her pocket and drops it into my hand. "For the entire pursuit, or for however long you choose."

The cool metal presses into my skin and a shiver runs down my spine. It's smooth, like heavy chainmail or a wedding ring. "What does it do?"

"It will ensure Caius can't hurt you."

"Who’s that?"

Her gaze bores into me for a moment before she replies. "My brother." She considers her words for a moment. “Only you can remove it once it’s on.”

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