Keeper of Storms (The Fallen Fae #3) - Jenna Wolfhart Page 0,31
tent to give her a curious stare. “I haven’t seen you around.”
“Well, I’ve certainly seen you around.” She pointed at the mud caking his knees. “Why are you lurking around in the muck? I thought the High King ordered you to stay in your tent.”
“No, what he did is call me here to—”
“What’s going on here?” One of the warriors Reyna had followed suddenly appeared before them. His body was corded in muscle, clearly on display by the sleeveless armor wrapped around his shoulders. Curly strands of orange hair tickled the tops of his ears.
“The Grand Alderman has refused to return to his tent,” Reyna said, biting down a cruel smile. Sometimes, revenge tasted as sweet as Hawthorne Berry Pie.
The warrior frowned. “Our Highness has little patience for this, Grand Alderman.”
“What should we do with him?” Reyna asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
The orange-haired warrior paused for a moment before heaving out a tired sigh. “Return to your tent at once, Grand Alderman. This is your final warning.” And then the warrior turned to her. “Come with me. We’re searching for any females in camp who look as though they don’t belong. Anyone who is hiding. Anyone who seems guilty.”
Reyna’s heart thumped hard. She could scarcely believe her luck. If she hadn’t tripped on Aengus’s leg, this warrior might have noticed she didn’t belong. As she followed him through the camp, the flame of hope in her chest was quickly doused by a bucket of boiled water. The warriors grabbed random females, roughly yanking their hands behind their backs and binding them together with rope.
“What about that one?” the orange-haired warrior barked as he pointed to a cowering archer, hiding inside of her tent. Her brilliant green eyes were wide with fight, her hand clutching a gem laced around her neck with a golden chain.
The world shifted sideways beneath Reyna as she stared at the girl. She was, of course, not guilty of murdering anyone at all. None of these wood fae were. She could not let someone else die for her crimes, enemy or not.
Reyna wet her lips. “Sure. I’ll get her while you carry on. Where am I taking her?”
“To the fire pit.” He jogged two steps back. “Be quick. Our Highness has not fed in days.”
Her stomach tumbled over itself as she shot the leader a wan smile. As soon as he turned away, she rushed to the frightened fae’s side. Her green eyes welled with tears, a pool that reflected Reyna’s hardened face right back at her. The fae scuttled back, shivering.
“Please. I don’t want to die,” she whispered.
“I’m not going to let you die,” Reyna hissed, glancing over her shoulder to be certain no one else was nearby. “I need you to listen to me, okay?”
Eyes widening, the wood fae nodded.
“I’m not going to take you to the king, but they’ll figure out soon enough I don’t have you.” Reyna laid a gentle hand on the wood fae’s trembling arm. “You need to wait in here. Count to one hundred. And then make a move for the forest. Don’t go in a straight line, and don’t walk fast. Pretend like you’re not hiding. You’ll be harder to spot that way.”
The wood fae nodded eagerly, and then swallowed hard, her throat bobbing. “Why are you helping me?”
“Because you don’t deserve to die for a crime you did not commit,” Reyna said, taking a step back. “Now, go. I’ll hold them off for as long as I can.”
A scream ripped through the camp. Breath tight in her throat, Reyna ducked out of the tent. Warriors jogged through camp, their eyes locked on the distant horizon. Reyna followed their gaze, and her entire body froze like a lake on a deep winter day.
A bonfire raged near the High King’s tent. The flames curled up toward the sky, roaring along with the cheering fae. Five female warriors stood beside the conflagration. Their heads were bowed; their arms were locked behind their backs. The High King held a sixth. His mouth pulsed against her neck as her eyes rolled back into her head. Her body slumped against him like a rag-doll. Blood dripped down onto her collarbone.
When the High King ripped his mouth away, Reyna stumbled back as though she’d been punched. Two sharp canines poked out from his top lip, glistening with fresh blood. His eyes were wild and red. His cheeks flushed with color, but the rest of his skin looked as though it had been blanched