My cheeks flushed with heat. I fanned my face with my hands, but the warmth from the golden drink rippled through my body, burning as it went. I stumbled farther along the wall. I tripped over a chair but managed to grab it before it fell over. There were some titters, but nobody approached. Instead, they backed away as if I were contagious.
I sat in the chair. Something caught my eye whenever I moved, and I realised it was my own body. I stared at my wrists. Pale green shimmers appeared under my skin instead of veins. I flinched, but the movement was slow, as though I were immersed in water. I waited for the effects of the drink to wear off; walking seemed like a great effort all of a sudden.
My eyes stung, and I rubbed them hard, wincing from the pain. I blinked a number of times, and it was as if a veil had been removed from my eyes. I had never experienced such clarity. I could see fine details at the other end of the room as clearly as if I were standing there.
I focused on the edges, trying to find an exit, but I saw a band instead. I wasn’t sure how I had missed them; they took up a huge space. The creatures played frantically, sweat beads gliding down their faces and blood dripping from their fingers.
The music changed, and a movement to the left of the band caught my eye. A woman sat in a golden throne, her haughty gaze roaming the room. A throne. A jewelled throne. Her long hair was red and wavy and glistened under lights that appeared to float above her head. Her eyes were emerald-green, glassy and vacant. Her dark green floor-length gown had a bodice that exposed skin to her navel, barely containing her breasts. The skirt was slashed with deep slits, displaying her legs right up to her thighs. She looked beautiful and arrogant, and everything about her was designed to attract attention.
Her bare feet dangled close to a small bald creature kneeling beside the throne. He cowered, trembling, the back of his head covered by his long, thin fingers. The lights gleamed, exposing pink, puckered scars all over his head. Every time the woman’s leg moved, she kicked him. Many of the occupants of the room had wings or horns or even hooves. The woman had none of these, but I wasn’t aware of normal anymore.
A group of tall, impossibly muscular figures stood around the throne. Most had wings, and some had pointed ears or unusual skin colours, but they all carried an arsenal of weaponry that turned my stomach.
The redhead stiffened, attracting my attention again. She glared across the room, her upper lip curling into a sneer. I followed the path of her glare and saw a silver throne occupied by another woman. The second throne had deep engravings that moved fluidly, just like the ones in the cup. I could have sworn the room expanded around the throne.
The woman in the silver throne resembled the redhead, except her ash-blond hair was short and straight, and her eyes were a cool, icy grey. Jewellery adorned her body. Her dark red corset caught my eyes. A face emerged from the fabric, mouth open in a silent scream.
The blonde’s gang of warrior-like creatures were even more intimidating than the redhead’s. A muscular woman with short brown hair leaned over and addressed the blonde. Neither of them had wings. The warrior woman turned and stared defiantly at the redhead.
The music changed again, and the room grew darker. The atmosphere transformed until tendrils of anxiety and anger crept up my spine.
A scream came from the dance floor. One figure stood a head taller than the rest. He was dark skinned and muscular, his enormous black wings moving slowly. His face was beautiful, and his grin didn’t falter as he unsheathed a sword and beheaded the wizened creature before him.
I sucked in a gasp of shock as blood splattered. The black-winged faery didn’t clean his skin, but he made sure to wipe his sword on the clothing of the dead creature’s companions. None reacted except to bow their heads and avert their gazes, and even then, their feet never stopped moving in time with the music.
I stared at the black-winged faery in horror, but even in my disgust, a strange lust for him crept over me. I wanted to touch his skin, to taste his lips, to…
He turned his head and looked directly at me, that same smile on his lips. But his eyes were full of a darkness that made my blood run cold. Abruptly, he left the dance floor and approached the golden throne. He bowed low before the redhead. She smirked as he moved to kneel by her side and gaze up at her in open admiration.
My hands shook, and my panic grew. Finally, my self-preservation fought through the haze. I needed to get out. I moved as fast as I could against the wall, desperately trying to find a way out, to get away from people who stood by while one of their own was murdered next to them. I needed to get away from the smiling, black-winged faery before he decided to come after me.
Relief rushed through me when I spotted the silver-haired faery with the beautiful wings. He frowned and took a step toward me, but someone blocked him from my sight.
A grotesque old woman smiled at me, exposing toothless gums. She stank of rot, and her long white hair hung in greasy clumps around her face. “Come with me,” she croaked.
I shook my head and stepped back, looking around for the faery again. She grabbed my arm and squeezed, pulling me along with her. I gazed at her wart-covered fingers in revulsion, wondering how someone so haggard and frail-looking could be so strong.
She yanked me after her. I definitely wasn’t dreaming—the pain of her grip was all too real. Suspicious eyes watched as we passed, but nobody intervened, and the silver-haired faery was gone again.
A doorway opened up in a wall, and the woman dragged me through it, down a short corridor, and into a bedroom. The walls were covered in nightmarish paintings and tapestries that intrigued and repulsed in equal measure. The four-poster bed, swathed in red velvet coverings, looked luxurious and comfortable.
The woman shoved me toward the bed. Startled, I tripped over a rug and fell onto the mattress, sinking deeply into the material. I struggled to a sitting position. The old woman picked up a basket of red apples from a side table. She took out an apple and held it out to me, pushing it toward my hand.
“No, thanks,” I whispered, pulling away.
She glared at me. “Eat.”
I took an apple with hands that refused to stop trembling. The fruit was shiny and plump, and under the old woman’s watchful eye, I nibbled.
One taste made the memory of the golden drink turn bitter and sour. Another bite made me forget what was outside the room. I sank against the pillows to take the third bite, never wanting to get up again. The woman offered me the basket, and I took it willingly. I took another bite, and another, and another, cradling the basket in my arms.
I couldn’t find it in myself to care when the woman left and the doorway disappeared after her.
Chapter Three
I could have been eating apples on that bed for seconds or lifetimes. All I knew was that I had to eat until my stomach bulged, because the very moment I stopped, I would waste away with hunger.
I chomped through the apples steadily, idly tossing away the cores once I had nibbled as much flesh from them as possible. I kept going, focused on my task, my thoughts full of succulent red apples.
I was sucking juice out of an apple only to have it pulled right out of my hands. I moaned, clutching wildly for another, but the basket was knocked out of my reach. Someone pushed me back on the bed, and strong fingers squeezed my jaws.
Apples. I just needed…
Cold water was poured down my throat. The icy liquid blasted me into lucidity, and I stared at the silver-haired faery in horror. I touched my swollen lips and swallowed hard, feeling an ache in my throat that I hadn’t noticed.
“Don’t eat.” He held my face still and made me drink more water.
I obeyed without argument, unable to look away from him. He studied me in return, his violet eyes flashing with anger. The apples didn’t matter anymore; my obsession had transferred to him. I didn’t snatch an apple as soon as he let me go, and his frown cleared.
“Are you with me?” he asked.
“Yes.” I gazed around the room an
d wondered how a few apples could have distracted me from everything else. Not even I made sense to me anymore. “Where am I?”
“Somewhere you shouldn’t be.” He stared at me keenly. “Who brought you here? What are you supposed to do?”
I tried to remember what had happened, but my memories seemed to be funnelled through a kaleidoscope, making them distorted and weird. Clutching at my thought processes was like being drunk and trying to force my body to walk in a straight line. “Nobody brought me,” I said at last, fairly sure that was true. Although I hadn’t been myself since I’d seen those bloody lights.
He shook his head. “Then how did you get here? You don’t just happen upon us on a night like this. Why are you here?” Irritation coloured his words.
I looked away, thinking of the people who were important to me: my mother, my friends. Their faces were hazy and distant, as if it had been decades since I’d last seen them. “I… I followed the lights. And the music. I just wanted to see. But the entrance disappeared, and the people… or whatever they are…” I shook my head. “They started hurting each other, and I’d like to go home now, please.”
“You heard the music?” He punched the basket, knocking it off the bed. The last few apples rolled across the floor, leaving me bereft. “Why tonight?”
“I didn’t… I didn’t mean it. I just want to go home.”
He ignored me, his eyes distant.
I reached out for his wings, unable to stop myself. They fluttered even faster. “What are you?”
“Just a faery.” He took my hands before I could make contact and looked me straight in the eye. “Please stop doing that.”
“Are you real? Faeries and magic and whatever. Is any of this real? I’m not hallucinating or having some kind of breakdown?”
He smiled, and my heart pretty much skipped a beat. His smile was sunshine, and I was eager to soak up the rays. “You’re not hallucinating. The Irish fae are hosting a very important event here tonight. And I was supposed to…” He closed his hands into fists. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s all wrong.”
I bit my lip. “It’s real. Not that I… I mean, wow.” Okay, so I was kind of a faery fangirl. As a kid, my bedtime stories had been dark faery tales, and I left bowls of milk out to thank the house brownies Granddad said helped us while we slept. At Halloween, I was the girl in the slutty faery costume. I even had a faery tattoo on my hip. But none of that was why I felt so relieved. If I wasn’t dreaming, that meant other things might have been real, things I had been shamed into keeping secret.
“Of all the…” He frowned at the smile I couldn’t hide. “It’s not a good thing.”
“But it means…” The shimmers under my skin caught my eye again. “If this is real, does that mean that other things might be real?”
His wings stilled. “What things?”
“Things I… things I’ve seen.” I held out my hands. “Can’t you see my skin? It’s different, right?”
He didn’t look at my hands. “I was afraid of this,” he murmured.
“It was real,” I whispered.
“Now’s not the… listen to me.” He held my face, forcing me to look at him.
But the lure of the apples had grown strong again, maybe because I was afraid to think about the things fighting for attention in my mind. I sought out the fruit with my eyes, licking my lips at the thoughts of eating just one more.
He pinched my cheeks. “This is serious, girl. You’re probably going to die tonight. We all are if things go down the way they’re supposed to. The banshee that brought you into this room is not to be trusted. Don’t eat or drink anything she gives you. And don’t agree to anything. Nobody can hurt you unless you say you’re willing. You’re in luck tonight. The rules favour you. Not me, but you might just survive this.”
His hands moved to my shoulders, but I couldn’t think about him when there were fat, juicy—
“Pay attention!” He shook me violently. “He’s going to come for you, and you can’t agree to what he asks.”
Violet eyes pierced through my haze, the overly large black pupils only accentuating the colour. “Who?” I whispered.
His laughter was harsh. “I saw you staring at him before. You watched him kill, saw his smile.” His voice lowered. “And still, still you would have done anything he asked, wouldn’t you?”
I nodded.
“Then beware. Of anyone here, he’ll be the one to take you for his queen.”
A thrill of fear ran through me. The memory of the black-winged faery made me tremble. And a banshee had touched me. Did that mean I was going to die? Oh, no. Wait. That was if I heard them wailing. But I’d always thought they were beautiful young women who liked to comb their hair. The woman who had led me into the bedroom had been repulsive. And the silver-haired faery was threatening my life. Probably going to die. Everything my grandfather’s tales had ever warned me about had come to fruition.
And yet… the night was the most exciting of my life. After years of feeling numb, I finally felt something… else. Even the fear was better than the nothing I was used to. But I wasn’t ready to die.
“Why are you going to kill me?”
He let go. “Not me,” he said impatiently. “I wasn’t planning on killing random humans tonight. You’ll probably be sacrificed to a queen. It’s a great honour.”
An honour to die? Yeah, right. My brain kicked into overdrive. The people there were supernatural; they had different rules. So the only way to survive was to figure out as much as possible. “How many queens are there?”
He paced to the wall. “Just the two. Azarel of the Unseelie, and Mirela of the Seelie.”
“But why would they even want to kill me?”
“Azarel is the queen of bloodlust. Any blood spilled would make her happy. Her sister might rule with a different kind of lust, but she’s sadistic for the sake of it. On nights like this, a willing sacrifice is honour, and they constantly try to outdo each other. You don’t want to meet either of them, trust me.”
“They’re sisters? I thought Seelie and Unseelie hated each other.”
He glared at me. “How would you know that?”
I gave him a scornful look. “Everyone knows that. It isn’t exactly a secret.”
“Humans talk, but they rarely believe. Although you’ll certainly believe when they hold a dagger to your throat, little girl.”
“Someone will come looking for me, for my murderer.” I wished that were true.
“And if you can’t get out, then how will they get in?” His gaze turned pitying. “You’re on your own. Trust nobody.”
“Including you?”
His laughter was a surprise, seemingly even to him. “I’m the only one around here who doesn’t believe in human sacrifice.”
“Why don’t you?”
Fear flitted across his face. “I’m not…” He shook his head. “If you die, we all do. I’m not ready yet. There’s too much to do still.”
“Why would everyone die?”
“The rules are important. More important than anything else. Tonight is the death of this year but also the death of an age, and the night the queens are at their weakest. Anything can happen on a night like this. Your death will spark something. I have to find out what exactly. I’ll be back.”
“Wait! Don’t leave me. Please.” If he left, I would succumb to the apples again. I would lose myself completely if no one kept me anchored.
He took my hand. “I promise to try to get you home. If I can’t… be brave. Sacrifices are normally quick. Painless, they say.” He slipped away from my grasp before I could stop him, passing through an invisible exit that I would never find until the faeries decided I could.
I knew people didn’t find themselves among the fae unless the fae wanted someone there. One didn’t leave unless they allowed it. I was trapped and outmatched. I couldn’t even trust my own mind. I had never thought of myself as desperate to live, but faced with death, I wanted to survive.
The apples called to me again, so I sipped some water and tried to focus on my problems to keep from getting distracted by juicy, plump, delicious… concentrate.
Okay, problems.
One. I was trapped underground in fae central and being held up as a sacrifice.
Two. I couldn’t see the exit no matter what I did.
Three. Everything I ate or drank was enchanted, and faeries were more than capable of forcing me to consume it all.
Four. The only faery even slightly willing to help me had just disappeared through an invisible door.
Problem five interrupted my thoughts by stalking into the room and scaring the life out of me. The handsome faery smiled, but his obsidian eyes were dead and cold. If I ever needed to be in control of my actions, that moment was at hand.
He strode to the bed with a brazen leer. I tried to appear dumb and confused, hoping underestimation would help me. He licked his lips in mock lust, but revulsion was clear in his eyes. My cheeks burned under his judgement, as if I had never seen that kind of expression.
“Sit up,” he commanded.
I blinked a couple of times, wishing I could drink some more water but not daring to show anything other than confusion. He roughly pulled on my arm, ripping the sleeve of my top. I recoiled with a gasp of horror—partly from the frigid coldness of his hand, and partly because my very expensive top belonged to Zoe. If he didn’t kill me, she definitely would.
He laid his palms on my cheeks, and a dizzying lust shot through me, burning me from the inside out. The switches between clarity and intoxication gave me a headache, but at least the silver-haired faery’s explanation of the queens’ “gifts” helped me understand why I could want to wrap my legs around a creature who terrified me.
My heart pounded in my chest as he leaned closer. His pupils were eerily large, adding to his creepiness. His eyes had appeared black from a distance, but up close, his iris was a thin line of white.
My body arched toward him, despite the fact that I had seen the unprovoked murder he had so casually committed. His nose brushed against mine, and his hand skimmed my breast. He licked my cheek slowly and deliberately with a dry, cat-like tongue.