Taken (Fae's Captive #5) - Lily Archer Page 0,16

knew it must have cost a fortune.

“Master said no at first. But the hounds wouldn’t eat anything else. They were dying, and you know they’re his favorite. So. Master decided to …”

My lungs freeze, my mind going silent. “What? Tell me.”

“He sold two of his chimeras. But that wasn’t enough for the spell, so he…”

Everything in me has gone cold. “Clotilde. Where is she?”

She swipes away a tear. “He sold her to the mines.”

I can’t feel the pain anymore—at least not the physical kind. A howling rip opens in my heart, and I can’t seem to catch my breath. Taura returns to me and takes my hand.

“The mines.” The words are soot in my mouth. No one survives the southern mines, especially not a changeling as old as Clotilde. The high fae work the slaves down to the bone, then throw them into a mass grave at the bottom of a quarry. Life here is unbearable. Life there? Unsustainable. Clotty’s been sentenced to a vicious, ugly death because of me. Because I was selfish and thought only of myself, of my escape.

“We aren’t supposed to speak of her. Just like when he sent Silmaran three years ago. We weren’t allowed to speak of her, either.” Her voice is just the hint of a whisper.

“I remember.” I mourned Silmaran in my own way. She was the closest thing I’d had to a friend before I met Taylor. But Granthos never liked the lesser fae girl and eventually sold her to a slaver travelling to the mines. I remember the look in her amber eyes, the fear hidden behind her unyielding confidence. I still hope that whatever light burned inside her didn’t die in the depths of Arin, but, instead, rose to the heights of the Ancestors.

“Master whipped Emily for crying about Clotty.” Taura sniffles just once. “She’s only just now recovering. But there will be scars.”

“There are always scars.” I grit my teeth, resolve settling along my spine. Clotilde shouldn’t suffer because of my actions. My plans for the evening evaporate, my dance card becoming empty once again. I have far too much to do, and it appears killing myself is a luxury I can’t afford. Generally, I’m perfectly fine with taking the coward’s way out, but not when Clotty needs me. She deserves better than that. I escaped before. I can do it again. This time, I’ll head south, find Clotilde, and free her. An impossible task, one that has no chance whatsoever of coming to fruition. Even so, I must go, must try, must do something. And if I die trying? Well, that’s that. But I’ll go down with a fight, not a whimper. Dying as an outlaw changeling on the run from her master doesn’t sound so bad. Better than slitting my wrists in this dismal room.

Taura opens the door.

“Here. You forgot these.” I hold out the small scissors.

When she takes them, I clutch her hand. “Things will change. Maybe not today or tomorrow. But they will. One day, we will all be free.” I won’t be alive to see it, but it will happen.

She squeezes my hand. “I believe it. I have to.” She pockets the scissors, a hint of knowledge in the tilt of her faint smile. “And what’s more, I believe in you.” Passing into the hall, she closes the door behind her.

I lie back and stare at the ceiling. “Well, that makes one of us.”

10

Gareth

Wreth lies hogtied just behind the heavy hedge where I crouch. When I’m sure no one heard or saw the ruckus, I stride back to my fish cart and finish the walk to the kitchen door of the Granthos estate.

I rap against the wooden door with my knuckles then step back.

A wiry changeling opens the door, her dark hair peeking from beneath a cloth cap. “Well?”

“Fresh fish.” I tap my cart.

“Did you wrest them from the jaws of the Great Shark yourself then?” She eyes the slashes along my chest and upper arm.

“Minor run-in with some ruffians.” I shrug.

“Ruffians, eh?” Her small eyes narrow, but she steps outside and gestures to the cart. “Show me what you got.”

I pull open the lid, and she bends over to inspect the catch.

“Is this cod?” She taps the fattest one, its dead eyes bulging.

“That’s a …” I’ve only been ice fishing a few times, and certainly never braved the icy waves of the White Sea in the winter realm. No one sails there except the ghost ships of legend. So, my knowledge of