Bite of Winter (Fae's Captive #3) - Lily Archer Page 0,3
ahead of us. But Kyrin tenses beneath me and Sabre lets out a huff.
I finally get up the nerve to ask, “What is that sound?”
“Wind wights.” Beth’s eyes are wide. “I thought they were a myth, just a stupid story told to us changelings to keep us in line, but—” Another howl cuts through the air, louder now.
“Wights?” I stare as the heightening maelstrom turns the sun a vicious shade of crimson.
Beth’s creeped-out stare intensifies. “Spirits so malevolent they couldn’t pass to the Ancestors and refused to enter the Spires. They say they’re huge monsters formed from the blood and bones of ancient warriors.”
“Seriously?”
“A great war was fought on the Red Plains almost three thousand years ago,” Leander says. “Some of the greatest warriors of fae legend perished here, millions of dead on either side.”
“Why?” I can’t imagine the enormity of a battle like that. “What were they fighting over?”
“All of Arin.” Leander says it so matter-of-factly, as if world domination is as sensible as the sun rising in the morning. “It was a clash of seelie and unseelie fae. They say the plains used to be a beautiful land of farms and plentiful crops. But that battle created such evil that the ground turned to sand, forever stained crimson from the blood of the children of this world, the rivers dried up, and the wights rose from the mounds of the dead, their dark magic feeding from the strife.”
“That’s kind of intense.” I hug myself and try not to think of the sheer horror of war, the propensity for evil that exists in the hearts of all creatures—human, fae, everyone.
More piercing cries sound, and Beth leans forward in her saddle. “Hey, Para lady, how much longer? Because I really don’t want to feel my bones being crunched in a wind wight’s maw.”
Para shoots a glance over her shoulder but continues walking. I can’t see a path. The entire landscape looks exactly the same, as if someone took a stamp and pressed it all over the world until it meets the horizon.
“Soon. I’ll just take that to mean soon.” Beth sits back, and Gareth rests his arm around her waist. Comfortable. They look used to each other. Close, even. I can’t help my smile.
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
A cacophony of screeches burst from the storm to our right, and I cover my ears out of sheer reflex.
“Don’t worry, little one. I won’t let anything harm you.” Leander’s voice rumbles through me, stroking my fears until they relent.
Para takes a sharp right, and the horses follow, though their movements are getting a bit jerky, the shrieks eating away at their confidence. I don’t blame them. The storm is a red wall rushing toward us, and if I stare hard enough, I could swear I see enormous skeletal fingers emerging from the redness every so often, like giants running full speed at us.
“God,” I breathe out hard at the sight.
“Safe, little one. Always safe with me.” Leander has one hand on the haft of his blade.
Para seems unhurried, and her companion at our back doesn’t rush us, just follows along. She walks a little while longer, then stops and steps to the side, motioning us onward.
“What is this?” Gareth stares at the landscape, which is exactly the same as the one behind us.
“Safety.” Para crosses her arms over her chest. “Hurry, before the storm hits.”
“Hurry into what?” Gareth sputters. “There’s nothing here. No shelter! We’ll be set upon by the wights and ripped to shreds.”
Para hitches a dark eyebrow. “You can either wait here and perish or follow my instructions and live.” She gestures for Gareth to continue onward. “I suggest you save yourselves. The wights sound particularly hungry, especially now that they’ve scented royal blood.” She looks to Leander. “It’s their favorite.”
Gareth glowers. “If this is a trick—”
“Suit yourselves.” Para shrugs and marches forward into the red waste. And then she … disappears.
I lean forward, my eyes likely popping out of my head. “What the hell?”
Beth yelps as if she’s been struck and stares at the spot where Para vanished. “She’s tricked us!”
“Not a trick.” Her companion strides past, my sword strapped to his side, and disappears right in front of us. The more I stare at the spot, the more something strikes me as off. This piece of land doesn’t quite fit with the rest of the landscape, as if the stamp on this area had a crack running through it.
“Hang on.” I tap Leander’s hand. “Let me down. I want to