Page 6 of The Fae Lord

I walk forward, then place a hand firmly on his arm. My wings splay out to my sides, casting dark shadows over his smooth, pale face. Then I touch his temple, and let the pain intensify.

The shadows clamour inside him, swell, push, crack, break.

He screams.

Then the screams stop. He is panting, unable to make a sound because all he can see is the pain.

I exhale slowly and breathe a cloud of warm, soothing air over his skin.

He cranes his head around and stares into my eyes.

I give him barely a second before I start the process all over again. Smoke, ink, congealing inside him, breaking him from the inside out. Then sunlight. Compassion.

The cycle continues until close to dawn.

Finally, he blinks at me. His entire body is trembling. His mouth hangs open. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you for making it stop.”

“Tell me where the Shadowkind and the Leafborne are hiding, and I’ll never have to hurt you again.”

He stares at me for a moment, then he starts to cry. “I would tell you, my lord. But I don’t know. I promise you, I don’t know.”

He is telling the truth. An overwhelming sense of certainty washes over me. As if his true thoughts and feelings are floating in the air between us.

The elf does not lie.

My wings beat hard behind me. The air cools his face. I untie his bonds. He sighs with relief and droops forward, rubbing his wrists.

“Thank you,” he mutters. “Thank you for showing mercy.”

My gut twists. Mercy?

No.

I study him for a moment.

Then I slit his throat, and leave him there, his silvery blood dripping in thick, heavy droplets onto the floor at his feet.

THREE

Alana

Sunlight blinds me. I am standing above the city, looking down, but I can’t see. I blink into the sun. It pummels my eyelids, forcing them closed.

I grip the edge of the roof. The spot where Kayan stood before he died.

Eldrion is beside me. I know it is him because I feel his presence, like a dark, ominous shadow, ready to engulf me.

It is unbearably hot. Beads of perspiration cling to my brow, and my dress hugs my hips tightly. I scream. A loud, bone-rattling scream. Something is making fear course through my body. I cannot latch onto it. It is a feeling, a presence, a thing that threatens to destroy every fibre in my body.

A hand takes mine. Why is Eldrion touching me like that? Why is he trying to comfort me? I turn, snatching my wrist from his grasp, and pull a knife from my skirt. I hold it to his throat.

Now, I can see.

The light is fading, becoming darker.

His eyes glisten, silver against grey.

He is smoke, and fury, and the way he looks at me, it’s as if he wants to kill me and fuck me and can’t decide which to choose.