Chapter 8

Bile rose in my throat. I had never seen so much blood. From what I understood, based on Marlais's mutterings, the fae were very hard to kill. Which meant they could be stabbed several times and still stand.

"We heal very quickly," Marlais said watching as my eyes widened in horror. I couldn't look away. Never before had I seen such brutality play out before me. I had watched violent horror movies more than once, but this wasn't a movie; it was real.

And as I watched, there was no denying that none of the other fae compared to the male with the blood-red eyes. I had to wrap my arms around myself to keep from throwing up.

He was grinning. One of his opponent's swords had already sliced a gash through his chest. His tunic hung open to reveal a torso covered in blood. As I watched him—mesmerized in a sick way—he cut down ten fae. After that, it was hard to keep count.

What if this fae came after me? What if he took me as his? I caught his attention already, and it didn't look like he was going to lose this fight.

Marlais noticed where my attention was as she hovered in front of me, painting designs on my skin with white paint. She ran it down my nose and across my cheeks. What the markings meant, I had no idea. I was hoping it meant luck. I would need all I could get if I was going to make it through this night alive.

"A Night fae of the worst sort, the offspring of a vampyr and a fae. He lives off bloodshed, craves it like a drug." She wrinkled her nose. "A halfling of the worse sort. There's a reason we prefer to interbreed with humans rather than some of the other things that live in this world."

I could tell there was more to him than what Marlais was saying. The was the other fae watched him, the presence he commanded. He was feared, yes, but also respected.

"Who is he?"

"Ronan."

Even his name sounded violent.

I watched as Ronan cut down a tall, monstrous-looking faerie that stood about two heads taller than him. He had done so with one great sweep of his sword, severing the male completely in half. Ronan appeared to radiate an aura, dark and filled with blood, sharp fangs exposed as he smiled in glee.

I remembered Gran's tales of the vampyr fae, or baobhan sith, as she had called them. She had said they were beautiful female faeries who seduced their victims so they could drain their body of blood. To imagine such a creature bearing a child... I shivered.

My eyes gravitated briefly from the blood-lusting Night fae as he struck down two more.

Eirian used an indirect and somewhat less bloody technique—though it was just as lethal. But it wasn't that he was killing that shocked me to my core, but how. My eyes widened, and I felt everything else fade away as I followed his graceful and fluid movements. Despite everything, the memory of ten-year-old me had me parting my lips in awe.

He was using magic.

The Prince held two oddly shaped weapons. They had thin, three-pronged blades on both of them, twins to the other, with one long spear down their center. Their handles glittered with beautiful stones encrusted in their hilts, visible even at the distance I sat. Their metallic sheen shone as golden as Eirian's eyes.

On their own, they likely would have been as lethal as Ronan's sword. However, the air around him shimmered and rippled, water droplets coalescing and gathering to form a large bubbling barrier around him. Then, with a scissoring motion of his blades in front of him, a wave appeared on the air, five men's heads dropping to the ground, their bodies taking another step or two before they fell, twitching and decapitated.

I was not sure who was scarier. The Nigh fae with his grin, or the golden fae prince with his manipulation of water magic.

Marlais sounded reverent as she followed my gaze. "Them royals are skilled water users. It comes from their mer blood. Eirian is strong with the Craft, hence why you are so lucky to be allowed the honor of becoming his bride." Her eyes lingered on me. "You will bear strong children."

I shrunk back, my eyes scanning the blood-soaked clearing beyond the fence. I did not want to become any of their brides, nor bear them any children. But I also was not sure how I was going to escape them.

Magic. Blood. Swords. How could I even compare? All I had was my flimsy dress and my stubbornness. Neither of which were going to do me any good.

A long, haunting horn sounded, and the men who had been fighting stilled. Despite their efforts, hundreds of them remained standing, their weapons at the ready.

With my heart racing in my chest and hard cold dread sinking in my stomach, I looked over the now unmoving hunters.

My eyes met red, a sweltering surge of heat rolling through me. The Night fae—or rather, Ronan's—blood covered chest was heaving from the battle. He had a ring of dead bodies around him, some of them still twitching with the shadow of life. I wondered how hard it was to kill a faerie. How deep did the wound have to go to kill to kill an immortal? I couldn't remember any of Gran's tales mentioning how a faerie could be killed. It made me wonder if they could be at all.

Only time would tell if the bodies Ronan left in his wake would rise again.

Marlais jerked me up with a rough tug. I stumbled, shutting my eyes against the Night fae's frightening stare.

Tripping over my feet, I followed Marlais. I was clad in only the sheer white dress, my wet hair braided off my face into a style I could not see. Around me the other humans were dressed similarly, mirrored expressions of fear, anger, and numbness reflected at me. I noticed not all of them bore markings like mine, and I wondered if it was something special to Marlais's Court.

We had gathered with the other woman in front of a latched part of the fence, which looked like a tall makeshift gate. Long chains clanked as a small, long-eared creature hopped up to unlock them. He let out a hiss as his fingers brushed the metal.

The lock glinted a dull silver, and with the twist of a key, it fell to the ground with a heavy thump.

"Has anyone ever gotten away? Escaped the hunt?" I asked quietly, though there was no doubt that Marlais heard me. She shot me a sidelong glance, inspecting me critically for what I suspected was the last time. The hunters in the clearing watched us hungrily, and I could feel the pressure of their gazes on me. I clenched my fists at my sides to keep them from shaking.

"Not that I know of," Marlais said after a moment. "However, I do suspect it is not unheard of. There would be no fun to it, after all, if you didn't have the slightest chance of getting away." Her eyes glinted, the moonlight lighting her blue skin in an ethereal way. She beat her small gossamer wings and nodded.

"If the Prince comes for you, girlie, I recommend you let him have you. Do not fight him, for once you are his, he will keep you safe—" she stretched out her long fingers, indicating the other fae watching, "—the others I can not guarantee will not bore of you and kill you after they have bred you for their brethren."

My heart was racing and I tried to calm my trembling as I looked at Marlais's inhuman face. She blinked her large eyes, completely unsympathetic.

"Stay alive, mortal. I expect you to pay me back one day for this."

I could feel the binding of her words. Like a click as invisible manacles locked around my wrists. Even though I could not fathom how she had possibly helped me, the power of the debt had been acknowledged by an abstract magical force. In front of us, the gates started to open. Before I could ask Marlais another question, I was swallowed up into the horde of humans surging ahead, escaping one nightmare for another.

At first I stumbled forward, just as frantic as the rest, nearly falling to the ground. But then I bit my cheek and took in a deep, careful breath. My heart was still racing, and my body still wanted to shake. I wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball on the ground and pretend none of this was happening.

But I couldn't do that.

You don't have time to be afraid, I told myself. This is not the time to fall apart. Righting myself, I pushed forward on my shaking legs. I held my chin up and focused forward on the trees of the vast forest in front of me.

On either side of the path beyond the fence, the crazed and ravenous eyes of the hunting faerie watched, waiting.

Choosing. Lusting.

I didn't look at them. They were purposely trying to exploit our fear. This whole portion of the Hunt had been meant to toy with our mortal emotions.

Feeling my body slowly start to ease, I walked faster. I wouldn't give them that satisfaction any longer.

No, I probably would not escape this.

But that did not mean I was not going to try. I had seen my life as such a pointless waste. I had viewed my mother's optimism and hopes as just some vapid reflection of herself on me. But, now, even if it was only to fall into the same frustrating arguments with her, I'd be damned if I wouldn't try.

Try to live, and try to get back home. I did not want to die. The last words I had said to my mother floated through my head, and I vowed to return home, and tell her I had been wrong.

It was impossible, far-fetched, and insane, but it was all I had. The need to survive. The goal in my head. My mother and father's faces.

Live. Survive. Fight in any way I could.

A horn sounded. The faeries around us hissed and howled as I cleared the fence's line. A great push ran through the horde of humans, many of us falling. Others broke into a run.

The men still stood, watching us.

We were getting a head start. And I'd be damned if I wasn't going to use it.

I lifted the length of my flimsy dress.

And I ran.