A Court of Bones and Twilight

Chapter Four

I stayed frozen, tensed to fight—and to die. Because my hopes of survival were all swept away on the breeze the moment that this male stepped forward. Oh yes, I knew of Caer. As the High Lord of the court where I lived, it was impossible not to hear of him now and again. The cool tempered ruler. The other fae in the court may have had their emotions dulled by time, but at least they still reacted when they tortured lesser fairies or leathphóri, were open with their laughs and jeers and calls for more blood. Not Caer. He was younger than many of his courtiers, but apparently, he was so ruthless in his younger days that he grew bored of even the cruelest torment, finding it no more call for excitement than polishing his bow. His indifference meant that he was likely to maim or kill without a thought, both those of us considered to be lesser beings and those High Fae who managed to become even slightly annoying to him. I'd heard a story once of the time that he'd been woken in the night by the screams of a human being tortured by one of the court faeries. They say that when he found them, he killed both this a snap of his fingers—the human for being so loud, and the faerie for making her scream when he was trying to sleep. He went right back to his chambers afterward, leaving the onlookers to clean up the bodies.

I swallowed, knowing that even my best efforts weren't enough to completely hide my sudden fear at this rate. I let my gaze linger instead on what I could see of his bow, tracing the lines of the clouds carved into it. Clouds. The symbol of the dusk court. That should have given away who he was before he even spoke.

The female who'd spoken earlier decided to respond to his clearly rhetorical question. "This half breed seems to think that it can stop us from our hunt," she said with a snort and a toss of her golden curls. This time, the other courtiers didn't immediately start giggling, instead turning to watch Caer, searching for some sign of how they should react.

He didn't offer one. Instead he took another step toward me.

I tensed, about to strike automatically, when I realized how stupid that would be. I wasn't here to win. I was a distraction. If I hit him, I was dead instantly. If I let him draw it out a little, I would still be dead, but at least I'd have done what I set out to do. Instead of striking him, I drew my staff closer to my body, switching to a defensive stance.

He kept coming, until he was less than three feet away. My heart was thrumming so fast it was practically one sustained note. The High Lord lifted his hand, expression still inscrutable. I tried not to react, but when it was almost level with my face, and his hand started to angle forward, I flinched, just the tiniest bit, my eyes flashing shut for a fraction of a second as my determination not to run wavered, because all I could see in my mind was the image of a dragonfly.

It happened when I was in my ninth year. I had just finished a lesson with Oiliunoir, one of the primary fighting instructors for new triur garda. I had stepped away from where Samy and Naree were talking with the other triur we trained with that day to watch a dragonfly. It zipped back and forth, flashing blue off of its metallic body, before settling on a wooden post at the edge of the training field. I stepped closer to examine its wings. They were amazing—intricate and swirling, the tiny veins were finer than anything an artist could create, in my opinion. I was so absorbed in studying the delicate insect, I didn't even notice when Dalta came up behind me. Dalta was a member of the other triur, a tall girl in her mid teens with dark brown hair. She swiped her hand in the direction of the dragonfly, and it was gone, nothing but a few shreds of blue carapace and iridescent wings blowing off the post. I remember asking her why she did it. She shrugged. "Why not? I needed something to practice my magic on, and insects are easy."

I was the dragonfly now. I was tiny and helpless in the face of Caer's level of magic. I'd spent so long trying to become a blade that could protect my home, but before Caer, blades were like dragonfly wings—easily shredded.

So when I wasn't dead the second Caer lifted his hand, my eyes cracked back open. Just in time to see it land—not on me, but on my bo. His eyes were on it too, as his fingers swept over the carvings. "This is beautiful craftsmanship," he said.

Now I really wasn't sure how to respond, and judging by the looks on the other faeries' faces, neither were they. I think we were all expecting that I was about to die in one way or another. Now that I was still alive, it seemed none of us knew quite what we were supposed to do.

I ended up doing nothing, just watching Caer's blank face for even the slightest hint of his thoughts. I got nothing.

Eventually, he lifted his gaze to me—still looking down quite a bit, given that he had more than half a foot on me, but still, his attention had clearly shifted from my weapon to me, and I tensed all over again. Would this be the attack?

No apparently not. He turned away without a word to me—unsurprising, seeing as I was considered worthless by his people's standards.

"Someone put her on a spare mount. We're going," he said, returning to his own horse and mounting up.

Another moment of blank silence. "What!?" Asked the blonde woman, saying the very thing I'd been thinking. Why would he need me on a horse? Was he planning to torture me back in the privacy of his palace? No, I would rather fight here and die with my bo in my hands and an opponent's blood staining the wood. I shifted back to the fighting stance as the female continued. "Why in the Mother's name would we need to bring it back with us? We should just kill it here, for the scavengers to pick at!" She shot me a venomous glare, not knowing that we were in agreement.

The High Lord didn't turn back. "I'm keeping it," he told her.

My mind went blank. What?

The female's mouth popped open. "But my lord! That half breed shot Hivurnius!"

"I am aware. It doesn't exactly take a scholar to figure out that when someone drops out of the tree from which the arrow flew, with a bow and a quiver of arrows similar to the one fired, they shot the first one too." He said dryly.

"But—"

He cut her off. "Are you questioning me, Ailleacht?" His tone took on an edge of threat.

She swallowed, eyes darting from side to side, taking in the spectators who clearly had no interest in stepping in on her behalf. "No, my lord," she said, bending her neck submissively.

One of the other faeries came forward, leading a pure white riderless horse behind his mount.

I raised my bo, glaring at the dark haired male who approached. I moved my narrowed gaze to the back of a black haired head. "Excuse me, but you seem to be under the misapprehension that I give a damn what you want. I'm sorry to inform you of this, but I have absolutely no interest in being one of your little pets. So either go away, or get on with killing me, but you're gonna have to pick one," I drawled.

Caer paused, and the other faeries began edging away, expressions both nervous and anticipatory, prepared to watch their High Lord incinerate the foolish mortal who rejected her chance at survival.

He shrugged. "Come or stay, it matters not to me. I simply assumed you'd prefer the former—for your companions' sakes."

My heartbeat stumbled over the mention of my triur. "What do you mean? What do they have to do with this?" I bit out.

He didn't even bother to shrug this time. "Obviously, if we're transporting you, there's no way we can continue our hunt. If we aren't, we can continue tracking the other half breeds. It makes no difference to me which you choose, but I'm afraid you'll have to make your decision quickly." He gave his reins a snap, and his mare started forward again.

Motherfucker. He had me and he knew it. He was offering me a guarantee of Naree and Samy's escape. If it meant being tortured before they killed me, it would still be worth it. I glared at the dark haired male who held the spare horse, snatching the reins. I swung up easily, strapping my bo back onto its place on my back. I stared straight ahead, ignoring all of the nasty glares the other faeries shot me for wrecking their hunt.

Well, I thought darkly, I had wanted to see more of the world. I guess this is a case of being carful what you wish for.

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