Marked (The Coldest Fae Book 3)

by Katerina Martinez

  “And you have to learn your place as well,” Praxis said, “Or should I break the other leg?”

  “Silence, all of you,” the Alpha barked, then she gave me her attention again. “You are the only one who is to speak.”

  I nodded, lowering my head. “Okay, just don’t hurt my friends.”

  Ashera’s eyes narrowed. “Who is this man you have brought to our village?” she asked, “And what is a pixie doing on your back? Answer quickly, and truthfully.”

  “She called me a pixie…” Gullie whispered.

  I shushed her, then turned my eyes up at the Alpha. “I will tell you everything you need to know,” I said, “But I want reassurances that my friends will not be harmed. Not them, not him, and not my pixie.”

  “Your pixie?”

  “Yes. She is also my friend, and her name is Gullie.”

  The Alpha moved in a little closer and knelt in front of me, meeting my eyeline. “Because you are one of our own, I will promise you not to harm you or your friends—for now. But if I detect an ounce of deception, I will not hesitate.”

  “Then I’ll be honest.” I paused. “But first, I would like to know how to go back to my human form. I’m kind of… stuck.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. In the crowd behind her, a ripple of murmurs began to move. “Stuck?”

  I nodded. “I don’t know how I got into this form, and I can’t get back out.”

  Ashera raised her hand above her shoulder and made a simple come here gesture. A moment later, one of her people stepped up beside her. It was the woman I had seen earlier, in fact—one of the ones who had captured me.

  “Lora, fetch her a heavy cloak,” Ashera said, “And do it fast.”

  Lora nodded, turned around, and then threw herself on all fours. Her hands became paws before she’d even touched the ground. In an instant, she’d transformed into a wolf and gone speeding down the hill in search of clothes for me to wear. There hadn’t been an ounce of hesitation or so much as a question.

  Ashera had the final authority here, and that meant all I had to do was stay in her good graces. That was how I was going to get through this.

  “Now,” she said to me, “Who is this man?”

  I looked down at the Prince who I had managed to turn onto his back before dragging all the way back here. It struck me as odd that she didn’t immediately recognize him as the son of the King and the Queen of Windhelm. I didn’t think I would’ve had to identify him to anyone, but the Alpha of the moon children had no idea who he was. None of them did.

  Or maybe that was what they wanted me to believe; maybe this was a test.

  I had no idea what kind of hornet’s nest revealing the Prince’s true identity would kick over, but I also fully understood the perils of lying to this woman about who he was. I had been told that the moon children and the Castle didn’t get along, and I had just delivered the royal family’s only heir to their doorstep. Would they order him executed?

  Shit.

  This was one of the hardest decisions I had ever had to make, and I didn’t have a lot of time to make it. I was lucky he was wearing mostly black, with none of the usual frills and opulence I had come to expect to find adorning the bodies of fae royals. He looked normal, like a commoner, save for the antlers curling around his head.

  His antlers probably set him apart from other fae, at least from any of them on this side of the portal. But the fact that he hadn’t been recognized, and he didn’t have anything on him that would identify him as a royal meant I had an opportunity, if I was stupid enough to take it.

  Think, Dahlia. Think!

  “His name is Colin,” I lied.

  Oh fuck.

  I could see all the blood drain from Mira’s face even from here. Her eyes were wide, her mouth had fallen open, and her skin had turned even paler, if that was even possible. We had both shared the moment of oh fuck together, and when I glanced at Melina, it was obvious she had shared the moment with us.

  All three of us, united in our horror at what I had just done.

  “Colin?” the Alpha asked, “That is an odd name for a fae.”

  Because it’s the name of a human boy I tricked into loving me with a magic sweatshirt. It was literally the first male name that had come to mind. Actually, that wasn’t true. The first name had been Tellren, because besides the Prince, he was the only other man I’d had any real interaction with during my time at the castle.

  If we were going to stay here, though—and that looked likely—I didn’t want to have to call the Prince Tellren the entire time.

  “He’s a carpenter… from Lysa,” I said, “We were separated several days ago when a bridge collapsed behind our carriage. I thought we had lost him, but I was able to smell his blood in the forest.” I paused. “I found him bleeding and hurt. I don’t know who attacked him, but he needs healing. Can you help?”

  It was about as convincing a lie as I could muster, and I didn’t think she had bought it. It was a flimsy story, at best, with more holes in it than swiss cheese. I knew they had noticed us travelling through the woods; they had been watching us. But they couldn’t have been watching us since before we entered the forest, so how could they know I had just lied?

  Ashera stood, straightening herself up and taking a sharp breath in through the nose. “Praxis, Toross,” she called out, “Take this one to the healers, have him looked after. The girl with the broken ankle, also.”

  “What about her?” Praxis said through his teeth. He meant Mel.

  “Give her a tent. Food. Water. These people are our guests, now. Make sure they are all treated as such.”

  I nodded. “Thank you,” I said, “Thank you so much.”

  “Do not thank me,” the Alpha said, “I am showing you hospitality because you have shown us you are more than just a false prophet of the tath isia. You may in fact be the white wolf, but that remains to be seen.”

  “What more evidence do you need?”

  She leaned a little closer, the darkness around her eyes deepening even as her eyes themselves brightened. “More,” she said, “You will come with me, you will eat, and we will talk while your friends are situated within our camp. We have things to discuss.”

  Praxis had made his way toward me by this point, and he’d picked the Prince up like he was weightless. Without another word, he marched back down the hill with the Prince slung over his shoulder, his hands swaying like they were lifeless. They really liked carrying people that way around here, didn’t they?

  Slowly, the rest of the gathered fae began to make their way down the hill, but not before Lora returned with a furry cloak wrapped around her neck. She was still in her wolf form, but she was running so fast, the cloak never touched the ground, never slowed her down, never got tangled under her legs.

  When she stopped, she panted, her tongue slipping out of her mouth. Ashera unclipped the cloak from around the wolf’s neck. It was large, and thick, and made of a patchwork of earthy colors; bigger than I was, in fact. Once she’d been freed of the cloak, Lora stood on two legs and made taking her human form look easy.

  She was also fully clothed, which meant it was possible to change form and keep your dignity.

  With a nod, the Alpha dismissed the other fae, who took off in a light jog after the rest of her people, following them down the hill. When enough of the fae were gone, Ashera stood before me, spreading the cloak open far enough that I would be able to slip into it once I stood. The only problem was, I didn’t know how to do that.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said.

  “Try to make sure they don’t know that,” the Alpha said.

  “They?”

  “The moon children will be watching you closely, examining your strengths, your weaknesses. If they believe you to be too weak, they will try to cut you down; to make sure you know your place. It is the way of our people.”

  “Can’t you stop them?”

  “I cannot. It’s just the way things are don
e here. You’ll have to learn to fight for your place if you want to have one, but first, you have to master the art of shapeshifting.”

  “I can’t remember what I did last time. I just got on my hands and knees and howled.”

  “It is as simple as that. Tell your body what to do, and it will do what you ask.”

  I stared at my paws in the snow. It had been as easy as that; healing, at least. I remembered the pain I had felt, and how quickly I had made it disappear. I hadn’t realized at the time, probably because there was so much going on, but my stomach was rumbling now as if it had been begging for food for weeks. I was hungry, really hungry, and that probably had something to do with the wounds I’d suffered, and the whole changing shape thing.

  Magic always has a price.

  Gullie fluttered up and off my neck. Ashera watched her, the little pixie’s green glow reflecting off her eyes. She didn’t seem as prejudiced toward pixies as Mira had been. Mel also hadn’t shared the same prejudice. I wondered if there was something to that as I tried to figure out how to stand.

  All I had to do was push myself off the ground, right? And tell my body what to do.

  I leaned my snout low against the ground until my chin touched the dirt. After a second of hesitation, I pushed myself up with my front paws and squeezed every ounce of brainpower into repeating the words be human, be human, be human.

  Though my muscles and bones began to change shape as I got up to stand, I lost my balance coming up. I staggered back a few steps, one foot precariously slipping off the edge of the cliff at the top of the hill. I felt myself topple, my arms flailing. The world tipped, I was about to shriek, but Ashera grabbed my arm, swung me around, and pulled me into the cloak, all in the space of just a few seconds.

  She clasped the cloak around my neck, and I pulled it tightly over my shoulders. It was warm, and thick, and even though I was wearing nothing else underneath, none of my more sensitive parts were on display underneath. It was a strangely… empowering feeling.

  Who the hell even are you anymore?

  “Next time,” she said, “You will do better.”

  I looked down at the ground and saw my feet sticking out from under the snow—bare and pink. “Wow,” I said, “That was a rush.”

  Gullie floated quietly under the cloak, disappearing behind my hair. “Is that where your… pixie friend lives?” Ashera asked.

  “She does,” I said.

  “And she likes it here,” Gullie added.

  The Alpha nodded. “Very well. Come, you will eat with me, and we will talk.”

  I couldn’t exactly say no. I didn’t know where the Prince, or Mel, or Mira were, but I had to have faith that they were okay. I fell into step beside Ashera and followed her back down to her tent.

  CHAPTER NINE

  While I was sure these people would kill me if I stepped out of line, they were also gracious hosts. Ashera had made sure I had something to wear waiting for me in her tent. Once I’d gotten changed, behind the privacy of a thick, woolen curtain, I’d come back into her tent to find a small feast prepared for just the two of us.

  On a coffee table, no taller than knee-height, there were plates covered in steaming meats and vegetables. There were three pitchers, one filled with water, and the other two filled with a kind of hot, spiced apple cider that seemed to become way more appetizing the more I smelled it.

  I sat down on the floor opposite the Alpha, crossed my legs, and stared at the food on the table. My mouth watered and my stomach grumbled, and even though the Alpha was already tucking into a leg of some kind of meat—possibly Warg—I didn’t immediately join her. I wasn’t sure what the etiquette was.

  She was fae, just like all the other fae I’d come across, and yet she was also very different from the castle dwellers I’d been used to. There was a primal quality about her, something wild and untamed, and absolutely badass. She commanded the people around her with a kind of authority I had never seen another woman wield, and she wielded it so easily.

  It was impressive, and intimidating.

  Ashera glanced at me from behind the haunch in her mouth. “Eat,” she barked.

  I couldn’t find knives or forks, only an empty plate surrounded by other, fuller plates covered in meat and vegetables swimming in their own juices. I gingerly reached over across the table, picked up what looked like a drumstick, and placed it on my plate. Then I picked at it, removing the skin with my fingernails and then taking some of the meat off the bone before eating a piece.

  It was mouthwateringly good. The chicken broke apart in my mouth, whatever it had been seasoned with was salty, and herby, and delicious. Before I knew it, I was grabbing another piece, and then another. I tried to keep as much decorum as I could, but it didn’t look like Ashera cared, so bit by bit, I stopped caring too.

  “Eat the skin,” she said.

  I glanced at a piece of chicken breast covered in a crispy, browned skin, and instantly the glands in my mouth screamed at me to do it. I reached for the chicken, held it down with one hand, and pulled the entire breast off with my other hand. After I’d set it on my plate, I took the skin off the chicken and ate it.

  It was crispy, and hot, and packed with flavor like I’d never tasted before. The food back at the castle had been delicious too, but this was different. The food and the service there had been Michelin Star worthy. The food here was heavy, and flavorful, and comforting, and messy, and I couldn’t get enough of it.

  I licked my fingers clean before grabbing a pitcher of hot apple cider and pouring some into a mug that was black, and hand made. Steam rose from the mug as it filled, and when I brought it to my lips and drank, the kick of cinnamon reminded me of home, of my mothers, of our Yuletide feasts with all the cookies and the roaring fireplace.

  “And your pixie?” Ashera said, “Does she not need to eat?”

  “I could eat…” Gullie whispered.

  “Oh, sorry…” I said, “I forgot the world existed for a moment.”

  Gullie zipped out of my hair and settled near my plate, where she delicately started picking off pieces of chicken to eat.

  “Thank you,” I said, “For all this hospitality. For a moment I thought you were just going to kill us all.”

  “Let’s not talk of death at the dinner table,” Ashera said.

  I nodded. “I don’t know anything about this place, or about your people. I’ve only heard stories.”

  “And likely, they are not good stories.”

  “I don’t know about that. Your people are more like myths and legends to the other fae… why is that?”

  “We prefer to live apart from the rest of them, because we are nothing like them, and that scares them.”

  “Because you change shape and they don’t?”

  “Indeed.” She paused. “And you say you, as if you are not one of us. You clearly have the gift.”

  I shook my head. “I guess I just don’t believe it yet.”

  “Why? The evidence of your breeding is clear, and whether you are the white wolf or not, you are still a Moon Child.”

  The word breeding grated against my ears. “Up until about a month ago, I thought I was…” I shook my head. “You probably know already, but I don’t exactly smell like all the other fae.”

  “No. When I first caught your scent, I picked up three distinct odors. Fae, pixie, and human. The pixie lives in your hair, which means you are a half-breed, but your fae side is obviously the dominant one, otherwise you would not be able to shapeshift.”

  “Is it a problem that I’m part human?”

  “That depends. I do not understand why a half-breed would inherit the burden of the white wolf and not someone more… pure, but here we are.”

  I shook my head. “Wow, there are… a lot of things you just said that need unpacking—also, I’m not sure what’s in this apple drink, but it is strong as hell.”

  “You do not like it?”

  “No, I love it. But it’s going to knock me under the table if
I’m not careful. Why is fae alcohol so powerful?”

  “It’s not that powerful to us.”

  I frowned, then took another sip. Somehow, the cider remained hot even over time. It should’ve started cooling by now, but it hadn’t. I looked at the mark on my hand, that shimmering, silvery tattoo, then glanced up at Ashera. I wanted answers, and I knew that meant I had to feed her some truths that could potentially lead to questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

  They may have not recognized the Prince, but they must’ve heard of the Royal Selection. Windhelm had stood for ten thousand years, and there had been eight Royal Selections. Even these people who literally lived under a rock must’ve heard of it. I didn’t really want to have to explain all of that, but I still needed to find a way to get answers, so I decided to focus on asking questions instead.

  I thought I would tackle the more pressing one first.

  “Why do you think I’m a false prophet?” I asked.

  “Have you heard the story of the white wolf?” she asked, “The prophecy?”

  “I have, yes.”

  “Could you tell me what you have heard?”

  I took a deep breath. “When the snow turns black and red, and brother turns against brother, upon the light of the full moon shall come the tath isia to bring light into the darkness.”

  “I see…” she paused. “What about the second part?”

  “Second part?”

  Ashera nodded. “It is typical for the second part of that same prophecy to be left out as it does not shine a positive light on the people of Windhelm.”

  “Why is that?”

  “And from that darkness, turned to light, shall the moon children rise once more to take that which was stolen from them, and with their teeth lay low both castle and fortress, and restore the seat of winter.”

  A cold wash pulsed through me, sending a shiver up my spine. The whole time we had discussed the prophecy and what it meant, we had never known there was a second part to the prophecy. And if Melina did, she hadn’t told us, but I didn’t think she was hiding anything from us. She wouldn’t.

  “I have not heard that,” I said.