Institute of the Shadow Fae Box Set

by C. N. Crawford

  Spring water burbled into the tub, pooling between my thighs. “Are we just pointing out each other’s flaws now? Because as far as I can tell, you’re a giant killjoy with no friends.”

  “You surround yourself by those weaker than you, because they can’t control you, and you use them to distract you from things you’d rather forget.”

  I gritted my teeth, now furiously scrubbing at my arms with the soap. “Look, criticize it all you want, but I did pass the gorta trial.” I inhaled deeply, willing my body to relax in the warm spring water. “So what is this trial, another hunger fae?”

  “No. It’s called a gwyllion. A female fae who came to London from Snowdonia. You will be asked to fetch something from her lair. And when you do, she will torment you with your worst fears and memories. Your mission will be to withstand the mental torture for as long as it lasts. You cannot run from her.”

  For once, I was quiet, soaping my body in silence. Unfortunately, Ruadan was right. I would not be good at that. This was not like killing vampires, and I did not welcome the idea of a Welsh mountain fae rooting around in my mind.

  Chapter 46

  “How do I prepare for it?” I asked, after a moment.

  “The same way you prepare for anything,” he said. “You practice.”

  Even in the warmth of the bath, my body was tensing. There were many things I’d rather not think about. I ran the soap over my legs, scrubbing harder, wearing the damn bar down to a nub. Still, I would show Ruadan that I had plenty of mental fortitude. “How?”

  “I can help you summon your darkest memories.”

  “You can?”

  “I’m a demigod of darkness.”

  “Oh, right.” I splashed water over my shoulders, dreading what was to come. “Is that Ancient Fae for ‘brooding killjoy with no friends’? Sounds like the same idea.”

  “Get out of the bath.”

  “You’re very bossy, you know that?” Still, I complied with his orders, and I stood.

  Water dripped down my naked body, and I squeezed out my hair into the tub. I hadn’t planned ahead with a towel or anything like that, so my wet feet slapped against the stone floor. Maybe it was the whiskey, but I felt an overwhelming urge to move closer to Ruadan. Barefoot, I crossed over to him until I was standing right next to his heat. Warmth radiated off his body onto my damp skin. I inched just a little closer, until my breasts brushed against his chest.

  His magic rushed off him in a wave of power, flowing over my skin. Then—for just a moment—his fingers were on my waist. Instantly, my back arched.

  I couldn’t see him in the dark, but I looked up at him anyway.

  With a low growl, he snatched his hand away. “Get dressed.” His voice was curt, commanding.

  A smile curled my lips. And because I was me, I inched just a little closer, pressing my body against his. His muscles completely tensed, and it was like standing pressed up against a stone wall. “But I don’t have any clothes,” I protested.

  He pulled away from me, stalking out of the bathroom, taking his darkness with him. The shadows snapped back into his body as he prowled to his dresser. I stared at him from behind, frowning at his arms. He was wearing a black T-shirt, and red scars slashed across the back of his powerful biceps.

  “What happened to your arms?” It must have been iron—the only substance he wouldn’t heal from easily.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled open the drawer of his bureau.

  “Someone attacked you with iron,” I said. “How did they manage to get that close?”

  He selected a black shirt from his drawer and held it out without looking at me.

  Whatever had happened to him, I felt bad about it, so I’d stop tormenting him with my boobs for now. I crossed to him, grabbing the shirt from his hand, and I pulled it over my head. It reached about midway down my thighs. My wet hair dampened the shoulders. “Thanks. You can be helpful sometimes. When you’re not locking me in dung holes and whatnot.”

  “We have work to do.” He turned to me, silver glinting in his eyes. “Sit down. On the floor.”

  I did as instructed, planting my bottom on the cold flagstones. I hugged myself. Ruadan’s room always felt a little colder than the rest of the Institute. That was his magic, I guess.

  I gazed up at him. “I am at a disadvantage for this task. I think I have more terrible memories than most.”

  “You’ll get through it.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. I didn’t want to do this, but I wanted to prove to him that I could. Maybe I lacked discipline, but I wanted to impress Ruadan.

  His magic began darkening the room, curling around the flickering candles and snaking over the rays of moonlight that beamed in from the windows. The shadows pulsed in and out, like the breath of a living thing.

  Already, a pit was opening in my chest, and coldness seeped into my blood. I shivered, my teeth chattering. Ruadan’s power washed over me, and my blood pounded in my ears.

  I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of my own heartbeat. Then, darkness slammed into me, burying me alive. My heart raced, and I felt like I was suffocating, as if I needed to claw at the dirt above my head. I gasped, a gnawing void widening in my chest. Ruadan was killing me.

  Then, light pierced the darkness—sun rays filtering through oak leaves, my heart pattering like a frightened rabbit. Oh gods, not this…

  I wasn’t really there. I needed to remember, this was just a memory. It wasn’t real. Not anymore.

  I was running barefoot over the mossy forest soil, my feet crunching on twigs. They’d come for us—the invaders from another land. He’d told me to run, but I couldn’t just leave them there. I had to go back. Sweat dampened my skin, and my heart was racing out of control. I turned, heading back in the other direction. I pumped my arms hard, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Panic raked its claws through my heart. But the smell of blood, of death was growing stronger, filling my nostrils. I knew what I was about to find there. I didn’t want to see it.

  Anger rose in me. Why did I have to remember this? Why was Ruadan forcing me to relive this?

  When I breached the clearing, horror slammed me in the chest. There, staining the fields in red, a legion of dead fae soldiers, fed the earth with their blood…

  An ache built in my chest, cutting me so sharply I thought I might die. I had to stop this.

  Fury erupted, and I lashed out with violence, my knuckles hitting flesh, striking and striking—

  The illusion fell away from me as Ruadan caught my wrists.

  My body was trembling, my legs ready to give way. My knuckles ached like I’d been punching walls. Ruadan stared down at me, his cold gaze slicing right through me. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to. I knew what he was thinking—something along the lines of “you lack discipline.”

  I ripped my hands from his grasp and gritted my teeth. “Let’s go again.”

  “Sit down.” That irritating, commanding tone.

  My body trembled as I took a seat on the floor again.

  My chest was heaving, nostrils flared. Ruadan was only trying to prepare me, but right now, I wanted to setback Grand Master Savus right in the face. I could kill things. Assassins were supposed to kill things. So why did I need to revisit the horrible things from my past?

  Once more, Ruadan’s magic breathed darkness into the room, and the shadows slowly pulsed—in and out, in and out, the movement slow and hypnotic. I needed him to know that he was wrong, that I was perfectly disciplined. I was capable of controlling myself.

  The air around me cooled, until my breath misted in front of my face. Then, the blanket of darkness smothered me, burying me underground. Panic surged, and I gasped for breath. A cool tongue of shadowy magic licked up my spine. My lungs felt heavy, the darkness all-encompassing.

  Then, fire flashed before my eyes. A yawning void had opened within my chest, eating at me from the inside out. The arena’s torches cast wavering light over the empty stone seats, the r
ed dirt. There was no audience. A dark power vibrated through my body, trembling along my bones, and the sound of the ocean roared in my ears.

  No audience. No, today Baleros had wanted me to train. It had been an experiment, really. What would happen if he set fourteen opponents against me? If there were enough people to fight me, could I be taken down?

  I felt weightless, unmoored from the earth, as if I were floating in space. Now falling. Death coiled around me.

  Horror slid through my gut as I stared down at what I’d done. Fourteen opponents lay dead at my feet, their skin turning black. Blood trickled from their mouths, their ears. I knew one of them, a fire demon named Elish. Baleros had kept him in a cage not far from mine. Once, when I’d been starving after a week in the metal box, he’d tried to pass over his bowl of gruel to me. It had tipped over in the dirt, but I hadn’t forgotten the attempt.

  I screamed within my own mind, the sound curling around the inside of my skull until I couldn’t hear my own thoughts anymore.

  I wouldn’t have killed Elish if I could have helped it. But this was a power I couldn’t control.

  Sometimes I didn’t mind killing, but this—this controlled me. Darkness had pooled in my mind, and then nothing but death.

  All the breath had left my lungs.

  A slow clap filled the arena, and Baleros crossed over the dirt.

  “Arianna. I knew you were special, but I never imagined you possessed this level of evil. Now do you understand why you must be kept in a cage? Why a monster like you must be controlled?”

  My fingers twitched, rage surging sharp and hot until it burned away the illusion. And there it was again—that terrible feeling of power trembling up my bones, the sound of the ocean roaring in my ears. A wild, uncontrollable force of destruction, threatening to break free.

  Ruadan was standing there, staring down at me in his billowing cloud of shadow magic. Tendrils of magic snaked over his stupidly beautiful face. So calm, so controlled, his gaze was pure ice. Gritting my teeth, I willed my heartbeat to slow again. I needed to stay in control.

  I rose on unsteady feet, and I crossed to Ruadan. Maybe he could see I was about to lose it, because he grabbed onto me, pulling me in close, and his soothing magic began stroking my skin, warming me. My breathing slowed, my heartbeat calmed as he pulled me in tight against him. He ran a hand down the back of my hair, soothing me, and his piney scent wrapped around me. For a moment, I almost had the urge to rest my head against his chest, to close my eyes.

  Then, he leaned down and whispered in my ear. “What are you?”

  I froze. I couldn’t let him know.

  I pulled away from him, staring at his face. “We’re done now.” My voice was so cold I nearly didn’t recognize it. “You don’t know what you’re playing with. Don’t come to my room again.”

  He didn’t say a thing as I pulled up the wooden trapdoor in the floor. I dropped down into the darkness, my footfalls echoing.

  I hurried away from him as fast as I could. Maybe he was right. Maybe I lacked discipline. For some reason, the thought of disappointing him made my chest clench. But the truth was, Ruadan had no idea what would happen if he pushed my limits too far, and I didn’t need any more terrible memories to haunt my worst nightmares.

  Chapter 47

  Ealdun lay slumped over the table, his snores echoing off the stone walls. If it weren’t for the line of guards stationed outside my room, I’d be able to escape.

  Tonight, as requested, Ealdun had brought me a piece of paper and a pencil. I’d told him I needed it to play tic-tac-toe to kill the boredom.

  Oddly enough, I’d started to think of him as a friend. He’d actually been a perfect gentleman, and he’d been delighted to have an audience for his interminable Scroton stories.

  Ealdun’s snores rang out as I crossed to the secret trapdoor. I pulled it up, and slid my legs into the hole, jumping down. I hit the damp stone floor with a soft thud.

  After a few nights in my little room, I’d convinced Ealdun to fetch me some clothes. I now wore a pair of black leggings and a dark shirt. Much more respectable than the T-shirt and bare arse I’d been sporting for a few days.

  This time in the tunnel, I wasn’t heading for Ruadan, but for Ciara’s room. I wasn’t sure exactly where to find it, but I tuned into her smell—wildflowers and a bit of musk.

  If I told the Shadow Fae that I wanted Ciara released, I’d be giving the game away. They’d guess my next move—that I was planning an escape to avoid my execution, and I wanted my friend out of here. I couldn’t telegraph my actions that way. Instead, she needed to escape while I was at the trial, before they knew what was coming.

  As I walked, I traced my fingertips over the damp wall.

  Despite my warnings that he needed to leave me alone, Ruadan had returned one night after another. He’d slipped into the room while I slept, put my guard to sleep, then tried to convince me to practice my mental discipline skills. I kept telling him no.

  I knew I was proving him right, that I was only demonstrating my lack of discipline, and a flash of fury lit me up. Still, I couldn’t let myself completely lose control.

  I understood that I had to face the gwyllion, and that it would be unpleasant. But the fact was, if Ruadan pushed me too far, he might end up dead. I wasn’t willing to risk it.

  Still, I didn’t get much sleep those nights. My mind churned, over and over. If I failed this task, the Shadow Fae would kill me. Would Ruadan do it? I didn’t want to kill him, but would he bring the blade down onto my throat? Would he demonstrate his mental fortitude by forcing himself to kill someone he liked? Assuming he even liked me at all. I really didn’t know. Whatever the case, the thought of dying at Ruadan’s hands never failed to send a sharp pang of sadness tearing through my chest.

  Already, I’d explored the entire passageway. Unfortunately, the tunnels didn’t offer any escape. Mossy stone walls bookended either side of the tunnel. Besides the door into my room, the only other door opened into Ruadan’s room. Still, I could find a way to get a message to Ciara before we both busted out of here.

  I traced my fingertips over the scar on my wrist. Once the Shadow Fae purges had closed down the arena, I’d cut Baleros’s brand off the inside of my wrist. Ciara had been there to help me patch it up. She’d treated it with a human ointment called Bacitracin that I’d never seen before, then she’d patched it up with cotton bandages. It had healed a lot better than the wounds she’d treated below ground.

  I breathed in the damp air. I liked it down here in the dank tunnels, and at least I didn’t have Ruadan trying to torment me with brutal visions from my past. The tunnel seemed to go on forever, an immense labyrinth that wended through the castle.

  It took about ten minutes before Ciara’s particular smell grew stronger. I frowned when I reached her room. There was no trapdoor and no way for me to enter, but a metal grate was inset into the stone. I thought it might be the bathroom.

  If I failed the trial, I’d go on the run again, straight away. I’d evade Ruadan for the rest of my life.

  But what did that mean for Ciara? She’d be trapped here in the Institute. The Shadow Fae would use her as leverage.

  And that meant I had to get her out of here now.

  Below the locked grate to her room, I pulled out my pencil and paper, scribbling on it.

  Ciara. I may have to go on the run after the next trial. You will need to leave here. I will find you in…

  I chewed my lip, trying to think of a location. Oxford. Near the University. Stay there until I find you. And destroy this message.

  Could I really escape Ruadan at all, even if I wanted to? I had a feeling his tracking skills were unparalleled.

  I pushed my worries to the back of my skull and gently tapped the grate.

  After a moment, Ciara’s face appeared, her dark eyes wide. Without a word, I slid the paper through an opening in the grate.

  She read it, then nodded at me. She disappeared for a second, then reappea
red, scribbling something of her own. She thrust the piece of paper through the hole.

  You can’t run from them. Ruadan will find you.

  Right. Ruadan was the devil. The devil wore many faces. I’d heard this before. But she didn’t know my real fear—if I let them prod at the worst things in my mind, I might not be able to control who I killed.

  I scribbled on the paper. It may be our only option. I’ll try to disguise my scent if I have to escape.

  My chest tightened at the thought of Ruadan hunting me down, an iron sword in his hand. I couldn’t allow him to find me.

  The betrayal would kill me before the blade ever did.

  More furious scribbling from Ciara.

  I don’t trust any fae except you. When we get out of here, we will celebrate with corn dogs, sloppy joes, and snow cones. I want to bathe in the blood of our enemies and fashion their skulls into battle drums. Are you with me?

  I blinked at her message, beginning to think I was not the scarier friend in our pair.

  Yes. I wrote back. Skulls and corn dogs. Sounds like a good time. I have to go. Get ready to escape.

  I shoved the note through the grate, then turned, crossing back down the passage. Now, I needed to convince Ealdun to help me. All he had to do was incapacitate Ciara’s guard, and she could sneak through a window into the darkness.

  When I reached the light that pooled into the tunnel from my room, I leapt into the air, catching the edge of the opening. I hoisted myself up, and scrambled into the room. Quietly, I closed the trap door, then covered it with the rug.

  Ealdun still slept on the table, his head partially propped up on his hand. A thin stream of drool trickled out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Ealdun,” I said quietly.

  He snorted, his eyes still closed.

  “Ealdun,” I said a little louder.

  He murmured something about nipples, still asleep.

  “Ealdun!” I shouted, and I smacked the hand propping up his head.