I leaned against the wall, draped in shadow, and smiled. He didn’t give a damn about the curfew, the FA, or the London Met’s SO-Thirty Division. This kind of reckless behavior was stupid, selfish, and dangerous. And I’d have expected nothing less from him. I might not have been an expert at—well, anything—but in this world, one restrained by laws and rules, Reign gave it the finger. It was difficult not to admire that, as foolish as it was.
“I’ll be your light, your life. Till the darkness comes … ” he sang.
He was made for this. I hadn’t seen that wild delight in his eyes since he’d introduced me to chocolate cake. And maybe when we’d kissed on the docks, before I’d witnessed the true monster inside him.
The song finished. He lifted his arms, eyes alight, broad grin a thing alive, and the crowd went nuts. They knew who he was, of course. Reign wasn’t going to pretend to be anyone else. Perhaps this was organized, or knowing him, he’d likely decided to take to the stage on impulse.
A murmur rippled through the crowd, followed by sounds of a scuffle coming from the front entrance. I caught a glimpse of red and black before an unfamiliar FA warrior bellowed, “Let us through! Fae Authority.”
Someone screamed. The crowd surged. I was shoved back and almost lost my footing. A jolt of fear made my heart leap into my throat. They’ll kill him. But the stage was empty.
“Search the premises,” one of the fae announced, clearly noticing Reign’s absence.
The crowd heaved and rushed forward as one, blocking the warriors. On the fringes of the room, I skirted the mob and made my way toward the door tucked away behind the stage. I slipped through, found myself in a narrow passage, and jogged ahead.
Movement to my right. A door opened and Reign stepped out. He braced an arm against the opposite wall, blocking the passageway and my exit.
“Did you bring them here?” The look in his eyes wasn’t kind.
“No, I—”
He snatched at my jacket and hauled me inside a cramped storage room. A single bare bulb did little to chase away the shadows. Racks and shelves climbed the walls, bringing them closer still.
Reign leaned a hand into my shoulder, holding me against the wall at arm’s length. Raw delight still danced in his eyes. He breathed hard and heavy, still coming down from his performance. He’d told me once that there was nothing like performing to a crowd, no matter what the numbers. When the music had him, he lost himself, but in a good way—not like when the hound took over. He’d said it was like the best of everything; sex, love, freedom, joy—not that I’d know what any of those things felt like. On his face now, I saw that hunger, that thrill and a trickle of anticipation snatched at my breath. Even after what I’d seen, what he’d said, I still wanted him.
I batted his hand off my shoulder. “Don’t touch me.”
He stepped back. “You’re wearing FA colors.” He said it with a snarl, leaving no room for whatever explanation I might have.
“I didn’t need to bring them here. You were drawing a crowd. You can’t do this, the FA—”
“Can kiss my arse.” He closed the door and returned his suspicious glare on me. “I’ve earned my right to live in London. Who are they to take my freedom from me?”
“They’ll kill you,” I hissed back.
A tight smile stretched across his lips. It was a wolfish smile, I realized. Rich with threat. “They can try.” He looked me over once more, lingering on the FA jacket. He clearly didn’t approve, and I didn’t care.
“It’s not worth it,” I said. “Kael—”
“Are you his spokesperson now? I thought you had a mind of your own?”
I pursed my lips and swallowed the urge to rage at him. “Why are you being such an ass?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Like I said, nobody is going to stop me or get in my way.” That nobody obviously included me.
A door slammed in the passageway. I pushed by Reign and leaned into the closed door, listening as footfalls hammered closer.
Reign rested a shoulder against the wall and watched me. “I had everything.”
“Shh …”
A frown gathered shadows on his stubborn face, but he waited and listened until the quiet returned.
“I was loved by thousands,” he said, lowering his voice to a hissing whisper. “It took me years to blend in, to learn how to act as though I belonged. While the others clung onto their heritage, I discarded it and embraced this world. I learned the language, learned how to be loved for more than just being fae. I lived a life—a real life.” A muscle fluttered in his jaw. “Now I have nothing, I don’t even have you. Who am I if I’m not performing for my fans? I lived through the purge, made a place for myself here. For what? Tell me that, American Girl.”
What was I supposed to say? I’d been handed a gift-wrapped life. Reign had clearly spent decades carving a place in London, one he could call home. I couldn’t imagine what that might be like, to have it all ripped away in the space of a few hours. And he wasn’t the only one. All of the fae would be feeling the same.
“I can’t live in Under. I just—” Whatever he wanted to add, the words didn’t come. Instead, the intensity and accusations in his gaze faded, until all I saw was that same old sorry smile. “I can’t live like that.” He leaned his back against the wall and looked down.
The light, the joy I’d seen on stage, had all but faded from his face. Now his lips formed a grim line and his eyes darkened. He could barely hold my gaze. This wasn’t just about sticking it to the authorities. He was hurting.
“I get it.” I straightened. “I do. But if Kael was here—”
“Kael.” He chuckled, and then added with a sly curl of his lips, “Kael doesn’t frighten me.”
I knew that. The only thing that frightened Reign was himself. “What if your control slips? What if the hound escapes?”
He pushed away from the wall and wandered to the back of the room in the space of two strides. “My control is just fine. Everything is fine; isn’t that what you tell yourself?” He looked up to where a grubby rectangular street-level window hung open a crack.
Clearly, everything was not fine. And hadn’t been since I’d been woven from the queen’s draíocht and sent to kill him. Reign, like all fae, craved attention. He wouldn’t be starved of it, not even to survive. He’d rather die in the spotlight than live in the dark. I didn’t understand that. Surely living in the shadows was better than no life at all?
“I’m fine just as long as we’re not together.” He’d forced those words through his teeth and kept his back to me through every one. I couldn’t decide if it was bravery for him to push me away or cowardice. The least he could do was lie to my face.
“We can be alone together,” he told me once. When had I lost him? I thought we’d have time; just the two of us. Friends, because the truth of us meant we couldn’t be anything more. He and Andrews were the only friends I’d had. Now I didn’t even have them. Now, draped in FA colors, I didn’t know what Reign and I were to each other.
I somehow managed to hold my expression, locking it down as though his words didn’t cut to my unreal heart. Silly little me and my construct mind. How naïve I was to think my unreal life could mean something to a two-hundred-year-old fae. He had Shay. What did he need me for?
“Alina.” An imminent apology softened his tone. He half turned and looked over his shoulder. Honesty widened and softened his eyes. “It’s the truth. I wish it wasn’t.”
I swallowed, just in case there was any hint of emotion that might lodge in my throat. I wouldn’t let him see how his words hurt. I’d wanted to ask him about the spirit. He’d know if One of the Three resided in me, wouldn’t he? But the words wouldn’t come. I was afraid of the answer and of what it could mean. Maybe that’s what he’d meant when he’d said I was too much like her. I looked into his eyes, his expression now one of regret, and wondered if he was deliberately hiding the truth. He’d always liked his secrets. “I should thank you. I don’t have
long left, and I wouldn’t want to waste it on lies.”
I tugged open the door and stepped out into the passage. Two FA warriors immediately spotted me, noted my FA jacket and mismatched sweats, and clearly knew who I was. One narrowed his glare on the door I’d just closed behind me.
“He went that way.” I thumbed over my shoulder.
They came forward, sliding their daggers into their hands. Reign could take two warriors, but a scuffle here wouldn’t win me any favors with the general.
I felt the press of my knives inside my boots. If I went for them, my ruse would be over.
“You saw Sovereign?” the leftmost warrior asked.
“Yup. Like I said, went that way.”
“What’s in there?”
“I was looking for the ladies’ room.”
I’d never been very good at lying, and their collective scowls told me I still wasn’t.
“Out of the way.” They barged by me and opened the door. The light was still on, but the room was empty. I smiled at the sight of the window, now closed. Reign had many ways of eluding the FA. They weren’t going to catch him.
I shrugged and headed back toward the bar. “Like I said, he went the other way.”
The street was still packed outside the club. I emerged as the revelers parted around Nyx and Scaw. They didn’t see me as I sidestepped and moved away, head bowed, collars up. On my way to the subway station, where I’d catch a train back to FAHQ, I glanced up at the rooftops to see if there might be a silhouette watching.
There wasn’t.
Chapter Nine
I snapped my eyes open and saw a flash of red and black in the blink before a wet cloth was rammed in my mouth. What?! Where—? A band of fabric fell over my face, covering my eyes and pinning me down. Wait. No! I fought to move my head, my body, anything. Nothing made sense. I can’t breathe. Panic clamped a vise around my chest and squeezed. Breathe … I focused on the air passing through my nose. In—out. In—out.
Think. This isn’t Under. The FA. The general. I’m back at Holland Park. I’d returned to the FA’s HQ sometime before dawn and crashed out on my designated bunk. Hours or minutes ago? I wasn’t sure.
Was this about Reign? About the bar? Did they know I’d spoken with him?
Hands pushed down against my shoulders and chest. Fear jarred through my muddled thoughts. They’re killing me. I twisted, bucked, and lashed out, catching something soft, accompanied by a masculine grunt. Hands clamped around my wrists, holding me still, while others rode roughshod under my arms, down around my waist and lower, sweeping between my legs. “Get off me! Let go!” But my words came out as muffled grunts and snarls.
“Unarmed,” a stranger’s voice declared.
“Get her up.”
With the fragments of sleep and dreams still floating about my head, I tried to focus. Breathe in. Breathe out. They’d have cut my throat by now, if they’d wanted me dead. So what did they want?
Hands hauled me upright. I blindly lunged forward, hoping I could slip free of their grip. A fist or something harder hit me across the face. I reeled and was met by hands all over me once more, but this time they clasped me around the shins and lifted me up. I could hear myself demanding they let go, threatening, but the rag muffled the words. In my head though, it was crystal clear. They’ll kill me now.
A dull, throbbing ache pulsed up the entire left side of my face. Blood pooled in my mouth, bitter and metallic. I’d bitten my lip. I twisted and kicked, but the viselike hands held fast. Doors slammed somewhere nearby. Boots squeaked on the polished floor. But they didn’t speak. Not a word.
My attackers dumped me on the floor. I reached up to grab the rag from my mouth, only to have my arms yanked behind my back and my wrists bound.
I wanted to ask why. Why had they let me in, only to do this now?
How many surrounded me, I didn’t know. I heard them though: the creak of leather, level breathing, boots scuffing the floor. I kept my head bowed and tried to slow my breathing. My panicked heart thudded in my chest. Why were they waiting? Would these be my last few moments?
A hand sank into my hair, twisted, and yanked my head back, exposing my throat. The cool kiss of a blade pressed against my chin. This was it. My end. A smooth, perfectly calm voice whispered, “You slaughtered our brothers and sisters.”
Revenge.
“You’re not real.” The male’s whispered words tickled my ear. “How much does a construct bleed before it is no more?”
I heard sobs: my own. A warm wetness spread through my sweatpants, and I didn’t care. He’d drag the blade across my throat and I’d bleed out here. Andrews’s sister might never be found. I’d vanish, like she had. Andrews would probably come looking. He’d get himself killed. And Reign, goddamn him. He might not even care. He’d warned me. I should have listened.
A fist or a boot hit me low in the gut. A surge of pain doubled me up, and all I could think to do was curl into myself. The ties cut into my wrists. My stomach heaved. I can’t be sick. I’ll choke. No—no. Please, please.
I had to kill those fae to get to the queen.
I didn’t have a choice.
Please, I don’t want to die.
“Anything?”
Kael. I latched onto his voice. He stood close, somewhere in front of me. I could almost see him in my mind: his rigid stance, narrow face, lips pulled into a thin barely there smile. Hate bloomed, vicious and sharp, inside my chest and the dark inside stirred awake. Intent trickled through my veins, sparking the hidden parts of me alive. I could stop this. I could stop them all, make them see the real me, make them witness the truth buried inside …
“Nothing.”
“Hmm … What will it take to rouse her, Construct?”
Her? This wasn’t revenge, nor was it because I’d spoken with Reign. Kael was forcing me to lose control, to incite the queen. If I did that, if I let go, what would be left of me? I might burn out, unravel. I can’t. I can’t! The blindfold was ripped from my face. I blinked to clear the tears. Kael studied me with a detached once-over, curling his lip at the sight of the wetness soaking my pants.
His slate-gray-eyed gaze roamed back to my face. “So disappointing.” Bastard. “And quite useless. Clearly she lied about her potential. Finish her.”
No!
The general straightened and stepped back. Blurs of red and black rushed in. Something—a fist, a knee—hit me hard in the jaw. Another punch, deep into my side. My gut heaved. I tasted bile and choked around the rag.
“More,” the general barked. “She’ll have to fight back with everything she has. Or die.”
After the first few punches, the pain took over, swallowed me down and smothered me until I couldn’t tell where the hits came from, or even where they landed, but always I returned my glare to Kael’s expressionless face. With every blow, I curled deeper inside myself, until all I knew was hate, and all I could see was him: those shades of gray eyes and the lack of emotion. He stared right back at me, and I wondered if he could feel.
The cool darkness spread through my body, washing away the fire of pain. Relief. But not because it would be over. It had only just begun. While their fists found their mark and my blood soaked through my clothes, I’d brought my legs up behind me and slid a knife free of my boots.
A cruel lick of laughter drifted about the room finding its way between the grunts and snarls.
The general lifted a hand. His warriors straightened and stepped back.
The laughter rolled on and on, like an echo in the dark.
Kael crouched in front of me. His eyes narrowed, and then in one swift movement he tugged the rag free. The laughter escaped, and I realized it had been mine all along. But now it was real. The general leaned closer. He canted his head, frowning down at the mystery of me.
I swung the blade around and would have taken half his face off if he hadn’t blocked my arm with his. A glimmer of surprise widened his eyes. Here I am, asshole. I went for his throat, but given m
y position on the floor, my aim went wide and my knuckles cracked across his chin. He jerked back, rising to his feet.
With slow, deliberate movements I stood up. The numbness had vanished, replaced by a steely hunger to kill. I scored each of them with my gaze, thought of how I’d disable them should they come at me. The general—I’d save him for last.
“We are the same, you and I. You feel my life in your veins. My heart beats in you.” The memory of the queen’s words fueled the shadow inside. The general had loved her as his monarch. His gaze said as much. Hopeful, wary. Afraid. So afraid. Or was this more? Was the respect in his eyes for something else entirely, for something ancient, for One of the Three?
Someone to my right moved. I lifted the blade.
“Don’t.” Kael waved his warriors back. They moved away; good little puppets. “This is what I want. Give her room to embrace the change.”
Embrace it. I’d embrace him and drive my dagger into his heart. A smile crawled across my lips.
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