horror overwhelm me every time I’m faced with a vivid reminder.
If that moment stops me from doing what I think is right, what I want to do, then I don’t belong to myself after all. I’m letting the fear and the vicious fae who triggered it own me.
The fae in this keep aren’t vicious, not like Aerik and his men. They might be lost in their wildness right now, but I know they’re different. I know that even if they do hurt me, they’ll make it right.
The terror doesn’t leave. It stays tangled through my ribs and stomach. But with a few gulps of air, I manage to master it enough to move my feet. One and then the other, the soft padding of my bare sole and the tapping of the brace forming an uneven tempo, I slip down the steps slowly but surely.
33
Talia
The first stretch of the main-floor hallway looks as normal as the hall upstairs, but when I reach the bottom, I’m met by even more unnerving sounds. Thuds echo up from the basement along with ragged grunts and then an inhuman moan. At least one of the fae men has locked himself away down there.
But the clearest noises carry from up ahead. I propel myself onward to where the hall splits.
A solid wooden barrier stands toward the end of the passage to my right, where the entrance room should begin. Now I know exactly where one of these crazed wolves is. As I approach the barrier, racing animal footsteps pound across the floor on the other side. With a harsher thump, the wooden surface shudders. The beast on the other side must have thrown himself against it.
It’s holding—but I can’t do anything for the man it’s holding back while it’s in place. My breath coming shakily, I walk down the hall until I’m only a few feet from the barrier. At the snarls and snapping of teeth on the other side, my whole body shivers with the urge to flee as fast as I can. I tense my muscles, willing myself still so I can examine this new door.
It fills the entire width and height of the hall, which is substantial. As far as I can tell, it’s constructed so that it slides out from behind a panel in the wall, which must be why I never noticed it before. The thick bronze hinges barely quiver when the body in the room beyond slams into the barrier again. The thumbturns for five deadbolts form a line up the other edge, securing it in place.
Did one of the others lock him in from here? Or maybe it’s safer having access to the locks from both sides of the door in case whoever’s trapped beyond injures himself in his wildness and can’t release them himself the next morning. Either way, I can get to him. The question is how I do that without being halfway devoured.
While I stand there, gathering my nerve and grasping at my options, the savage noises from the front hall travel farther away. A few distant thumps, rattles, and scrapes suggest the beast is grappling with the front door now. Then there’s the sound of tearing fabric and a feral growl.
Fabric—maybe I could work with that. I hurry back through the halls to the kitchen and jerk open the drawers until I find the rags August uses to wipe the counters. Gripping one against my palm, I scan the glinting metal handles of the knives in their sharpening block. As I pull the smallest one free, my mouth goes dry.
No big deal. Just make a little cut, dab a bit of blood on the cloth, and make sure the wolf gets it in his mouth. Aerik cut me open enough times. I should be able to handle it when I’m the one holding the blade.
Sitting on my regular stool, I brace myself against the island behind me and bring the cutting edge to my thumb. My hands shake. The knife glides through my flesh like I’m made of butter, slicing deeper than I meant to with a lance of pain that shoots right through the joints to my wrist.
Hissing through my teeth, I press the rag to the wound. A crimson splotch blooms across the cream-colored fabric faster than I was prepared for. As I stare at it, my head swims. I close my eyes, clamping my pressure around my thumb and breathing in slow, soothing breaths, imaging sparkling ponds and serene forests.
I can’t