“We still have to get the next clue from the dragon.”
Right. The damn dragon. Funnily enough, my mind had been so filled with endless caves and kisses that lasted too long that I had forgotten the dragon. On second thought, I’d rather think of the dragon than that painfully long kiss I’d been forced to watch.
“What?” Orin said, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“What what?”
“You said you’d rather think of a dragon.”
Crap. I’d been thinking aloud again. Hopefully, he’d not heard the last part of that thought. “Yeah, dragon,” I mumbled, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about. “Let’s go kick its ass.”
“Hmm,” Orin replied, following my purposeful walk out from the mouth of the cave and up the mountain. “That’s not what it sounded like to me.”
Thankfully, the darkness of the evening hid my reddening cheeks. Damned if I knew what was going on with me. It must be something to do with all the magic fizzing about. It was bound to do something to the mind if one was surrounded by enough of it.
Despite my determined pace, climbing the mountain was harder than I thought it would be. The wind was much colder up here, and I didn’t have the right gear for the temperature. I had to resist the urge to ask Orin for help. After the display he’d just put on, I was in no mood to ask him for anything.
“Slow down!” I heard him panting behind me. “This is exhausting.”
“Okay,” I yelled, picking up the pace. He could do with a bit of exercise. It would help him get thoughts of xanas out of his tiny brain.
I felt his hand on my shoulder, forcing me to stop and turn around. “Will you slow down! I just told you I was exhausted.”
“Did you?” I asked, trying to school my features into an innocent expression. “I didn’t hear you in all this wind.”
Okay, I was being a bitch, and both of us knew it, but I was annoyed with him. Now, if only I could articulate why I was annoyed, then both of us could be happier. I ignored that little voice in my head that told me that jealousy was my motivation and softened. “I’m sorry. I’ll walk slower.”
“Good. We still have a dragon to fight after all of this, and I don’t want to be half dead when I do it.”
He started off again, leaving me stock-still. Thoughts of Zee and Genevieve’s flattened mutilated bodies crashed through my brain, and I picked up my pace to keep close to Orin.
I’d not put much thought into fighting any kind of dragon. In the movies, any action scene, especially ones involving dragons, would be filmed using a green screen and CGI. But after our last attempt, I knew we needed to do better. In theory, I knew how to kill a dragon—find the weak points in its scaly hide, right? Avoid the deadly fire, claws, and flailing tail? My stomach flipped. We could do this.
As the thought passed my mind, something dark flew overhead and blocked the moonlight for a few seconds. Grabbing Orin’s hand and forgetting the argument between us, I raced up the mountain to the black hole I could just make out above us.
The cave was the only shelter from the dragon I could see, so with every ounce of strength I possessed, I pushed forwards, pulling a wheezing Orin behind me. Once in the cave, I let go of him, dropping my hands to my knees to catch my breath.
“I think we’ve outrun him,” I huffed, my lungs screaming from exertion.
“I think you’ve brought us into his home,” Orin panted back, eyeing up the corner of the cave. I followed his eye line and saw a stack of bones piled up at the edge of the cave. Some of those looked to be human. I’d messed up. I’d messed up big.
“Don’t panic,” Orin said, coming towards me.
“I’m sorry.” I murmured. I’d been so caught up in everything, I’d made a ghastly mistake. It was so stupid. I cursed myself for letting my emotions take over and hung my head.
“No time for that,” Orin said, his voice unusually tender. He pressed one finger to my chin and gently raised my face until I was eye to eye with him. I could barely see him in the dim light, but I could see enough to know he was worried about me. “We need to fight this thing, but neither of us can do it alone. I have the magic. You have stealth and strength on your side.” He handed me the sword and pushed up his sleeves. “Between us, we have a chance to get through this, but we will need to work together. Are you with me?”
I nodded.
As he nodded back, cementing our new pact, the little light in the cave was snuffed out by the shadow of the dragon. Taking a deep breath, I held my hand up in the air. Orin high fived me quietly then turned towards our enemy, falling into a fighting stance. In the movies, this would be the epic end scene where the audience knew the heroes would win but sat on the edge of their seat all the same. I had no such knowledge. There was no script. There was every chance we’d die here.
With a scream that echoed around the cave, I lunged towards the black shape, the sword aloft in my hand. In almost slow motion, the dragon turned its head and blasted fire from its mouth straight towards me. I ducked, but I didn’t need to. Orin had performed a spell shielding me from the fire, deflecting it back on the dragon.
The dragon yelped as the full force of its flames hit it in the wing. Giving a huge roar, it turned its attention on Orin.
I thought the force field would protect him too, but the angry dragon burst through it as though it was nothing more than tissue paper. It took me a few seconds to realize what was going on and those few seconds cost us. The dragon lunged at Orin, knocking him off his feet. I heard the sound of bones cracking just half a second before the ear-piercing scream left Orin’s mouth.
The dragon had done nothing more than knock him over with its snout, but he’d tumbled the wrong way, breaking something in the process. He was helpless as the dragon opened its mouth, ready to scoop him up for dinner.
With a yell of my own, I raised the sword over my head and ran towards the dragon, ramming it down as hard as I could. With a chink, the sword bounced off its thick leather hide, nearly causing me to drop it as the reverberations shuddered down my body.
“You need magic to make the sword strong enough against dragon skin,” Orin shouted. A quick glance over at him showed me he was in agony and in no fit state to help me.
“I can’t do magic!” I whispered to myself in a panic as the dragon spun around, no longer interested in Orin. He wanted to play with his food before eating it, it seemed. At least, I could lure it away from Orin. Running outside into the fading light, I felt a blast of hot air burn the hair from my right arm and blister the skin.
“That hurt!” I screamed, turning around to face the dragon.
Its jaws widened as it lumbered towards me.
I could see right down its throat. If I angled the sword just right, towards the soft part of the flesh at the very back of its mouth, I knew I wouldn’t need magic. But the rows of razor-sharp teeth heading towards me made me waver. It would take split-second timing and a truckload of luck to kill it before it ripped me to shreds. Magic was my only real option.
I thought about what Tristam had shown me, and then about Orin’s story about his father. About making magic his friend. A fluffy little bunny. Gathering up every bit of imagination I could muster, I imagined magic as my own little dragon. Powerful and glowing, ready to face my foe beside me. I had to do this. This couldn’t be the end of the road for Orin and me. He needed to free his parents, and I needed to find Cass. I was here in this place, going through this hell, for her. If I didn’t embrace magic now, it would all be for nothing. And I’d never see her again. Not to mention turn out as a dragon shish kebab.
I imagined my friendly magical dragon pouring its own power and fire into the sword, promising it belly scratches and treats if it cooperated. And it WORKED. At the very last second, the sword began to glow and instead of aiming for the back of its throat, I sliced upwards, ramming the boiling hot sword right up the dragon’s nose.
I don’t know who was more shocked by this sudden turn of events—the
dragon or me. I’d performed magic. Real magic!
The dragon’s slitted eyes widened as it began to scream and flail, its motion wrenching the sword hilt from my hand. Without my weapon or Orin to help me, I could only watch as the large beast swung its head about before falling to the ground with a crash.
I pressed myself against the back of the cave to avoid the dragon’s death throes. Its roar of agony reverberated against my eardrums. I ducked behind a cluster of rocks and tripped over a long wooden crate stashed out of the way. I frowned at it. In the low light, I could just make out the faint symbol of a rose and thistle spray painted on it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognized it, but the dragon’s flailing razor-sharp claws and thrashing tail were the more pressing issue at the moment.
Finally, the dragon fell still. Its glassy eyes reflected the stars that had appeared in the sky outside the cave. They held no light of their own.
I’d killed it. I’d actually killed it using magic.
A grin split across my face. I wasn’t going to let Orin hear the end of this. Not for a long while.
27
As Orin and I stumbled out of the cave, Orin leaning heavily on me to keep weight off his injured ankle, a bright light greeted us. I threw up my arm to shield my eyes and tried to make out what it was.
The blinking red light clued me in. “Jacq?” I heard Ben’s worried voice and another that I didn’t recognize.
“Ms. Cunningham! Mr. Treebaum!” A fae female in an FFR jumpsuit ran up to us. “Do you need medical attention?” she asked.
“What the hell does it look like?” I snapped. “He’s got a broken ankle, and I’m burned half to hell.”
“Okay,” she said, not flinching at my rudeness. “We’ll transport you back to headquarters.”
“How—” I started to ask, but she was already grabbing us both and whispering something that sounded a lot like magic. And the next thing I knew, everything went black.
My stomach heaved within me, and my head spun when I opened my eyes back up. The mountain was gone. In its place, was a huge ballroom with a soaring ceiling above us and polished marble floors beneath our dirty boots.
Bright lights and a crowd surrounded us—people were everywhere, clapping and cheering. And cameras. So many cameras.
Orin and I looked at each other in confusion, trying to reconcile the past few moments of dirt and near death with this sudden thrust into the glittering Hollywood light.
Patricia trotted our way with a microphone in hand and five-inch stilettos on her feet.
“Jacq! Orin!” she purred, as I continued to blink. A face in the crowd came into focus in the background. Bubblegum pink hair. Molly. The contestants were here. I scanned the crowd, ignoring Patricia like a buzzing fly. There he was. Blond hair. Perfectly tan face, white teeth flashing in a smile.
“’Scuse me,” I pushed past her, heading for Tristam. I felt like any moment, this floor might drop out beneath me, but there was one thing I wanted to do before it did.
I reached his side and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned from the faerie he was talking with, and when he caught sight of me, his eyes opened ever so slightly in surprise. He hid it well, though, pasting on a sticky-sweet smile. “Jacq!” he said. “Congrats.”
“I have something for you,” I said, and then I reared back and punched him in the face.
Tristam reeled back into a crowd of faeries, clutching his cheek where I’d connected solidly. My hand throbbed like a sonuvabitch, and a flush of heat passed through me, as everything I had put my body through over the last few days caught up with me at once.
I tried to take a step back towards Patricia, who was hurrying our way with a delighted expression on her face, but my foot seemed like it was stuck in concrete.
“She punched me!” I heard Tristam’s indignant howl as I toppled sideways, into Patricia’s flimsy arms.
I came to in a hospital bed in a long, dark room. My head felt stuffed with wool, but my body was blissfully numb. They must have me on some sort of painkiller. Good stuff, too. I blinked to take in my surroundings and saw that the burn on my arm was bandaged.
There were beds around me filled with other contestants. It seemed everyone was asleep, it must be nighttime. Orin was in the bed next to me breathing evenly. When I saw his prone form, I sighed in relief. Then a spasm went through me. I was relieved to have him by my side. I was thinking, even in this moment, how he looked like a dark angel when he slept. I shoved the thought aside ruthlessly.
I realized then that someone had changed my clothes, and I was in a hospital gown. My jacket…it had the letter from Cass. I fumbled around the bed, looking underneath it. There. I let out a breath. Someone had piled my clothes neatly beneath the chair beside my bed. I stretched down to grab the letter when the door of the room clicked open. I pushed myself back up, my senses on alert.
The click of boots on the polished tiles of the floor was deafening amongst the soft breathing. When the figure came into view, I shook my head to be sure it wasn’t a mirage. The Faerie king. Vale Obanstone himself.
He wore a pair of tan trousers and dark equestrian boots, together with a soft grey sweater. He looked like a British noble who just came in from a ride in the country. But his eyes were sharp, glowing slightly in the dark.
He stopped at my bed, and our eyes met. “You’re awake,” he said softly.
I nodded, swallowing. Just being alone with this man made me wish I had some sort of weapon. He was a predator. That was easy enough to see.
“Do you mind if I sit?” he nodded to the chair, and through I desperately wanted to say no, I nodded again. “It’s your kingdom,” I croaked.
He settled into the rickety wooden chair as if it was a throne. “You impressed me, Jacq,” he said. “You and Orin both. No one expected you to make it to the first checkpoint. But you two have become a fan favorite.”
“Everyone likes an underdog,” I said weakly.
“Indeed. You’re in last place starting the next trial, but you’re still in it. I’m sure no one will underestimate you in the future.”
Last place. His words were a gut punch. But he was right. We were still in it. We were better off than poor Gen and Zee, or even Yael and Duncan. We were still in it. I still had a chance to find Cass.
The king let out a little laugh and shook his head. “You Cunninghams do have spirit. I’ll give you that.”
He reached in the pocket of his sweater and drew something out. But I couldn’t focus, because his words were like a maelstrom within me. You Cunninghams…like I wasn’t the first Cunningham he had met. That he had known... A horrible thought overtook me, as the blood roared through my ears. Did the king have something to do with Cass’s disappearance? Did he know where she was?
“Here,” the king said, holding out the object. I looked at it. It was little glass vial on a chain with two pearls in it.
I shook my head woodenly. I wanted nothing from him. I wanted him gone. I wanted to bury my fingers in the wool of his sweater and pummel him until he told me what he knew about Cass. But I could only shake my head. “I don’t want anything from the Obanstones,” I managed.
He let out a rueful laugh. “I suppose we deserve that. Tristam’s competitive side can sometimes…carry him away.”
“He trapped us in a never-ending cave,” I replied.
“Well, you ended up fine.” The king waved away his son’s transgressions, and my concerns, like a buzzing fly. “This isn’t from me. It’s part of the race. Everyone else got theirs at the ceremony, but you and Orin were in such bad shape, you missed it. You’ll need it for the next trial.”
I took the vial from him, and as my fingers brushed his, they burned. Yes, this man was dangerous. Just like his kingdom. Beautiful on the surface with deadly force lurking beneath.
28
The next morning dawned way too soon. It was barely light out when we were all unceremoniously pulled from our beds and thrust into a nearby room where the studio�
��s make-up team had the unenviable job of making us look presentable.
Orin limped beside me, leaning on a black cane for support as we were each escorted to a chair.
“I’m surprised you can walk at all,” I mumbled as the makeup artist began to pull out a mountain of bottles and brushes. “I thought for sure your ankle was broken.”
“Shh,” hissed Orin, nodding over to the other contestants. “Don’t speak about the race. They’ll be listening.”
I looked over to the remaining contestants. Thankfully they’d put Tristam at the farthest chair away from me. He was happily chatting away to the young girl doing his hair, and as I watched, she let out a peal of laughter. Argh! I couldn’t believe I’d actually liked the guy. Turning back to Orin I lowered my voice. “How is it? Your ankle?”
“I’m more concerned about the fact that I have to wear makeup,” he fussed, throwing his makeup artist a dark look which made her cower. “It was broken. They’ve fixed it with magic. It’s fine now.”
“So why the cane?” I whispered.
Orin leaned close to my ear, causing his artist to huff. “You and I know I’m all right, but I don’t want the others to know.” He threw a glance at Molly who was on my other side. “Let them think we’re weak. It could work in our favor. Besides, I think the cane makes me look distinguished.”
I rolled my eyes, biting back a retort and looked at the room around me instead. As we’d just moved from one to the next, I guessed that we hadn’t been in a hospital at all, rather a huge house. The Faerie king’s country home? It looked ornate enough to be a palace. The cavernous space they’d stuck us in was big enough to be a ballroom; we only took up a corner of it. The tall director’s-style chairs were filled with the remaining eight contestants.
The Sorcery Trial (The Faerie Race Book 1) Page 18