Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (2)

“But it’s what is right. What is fair,” Rolina said with quiet venom. “Your ilk is many ghastly things, but they are always fair.”

Fair.

Such a word did not exist in this world of eternal gray.

Rolina should know that better than anyone. Yet so many souls held tight to the false security of right and wrong. I’d ceased believing any such security existed before knowing what the words meant.

No matter what realm you stood in, the expansive and diverse continent of Mythayla was cruel and unjust—perhaps far more than even the guardian I’d been stuck with.

Regardless, after years of being trapped, I was ready to embrace every inch of what awaited on the other side of that invisible veil. A veil I’d seen shine in the distance from the puddled rooftop of our apartment building, the only sign of its presence unless you dared to breach the wetlands and woods to approach it.

Supposedly, the vibration and heat of the wards were enough to repel humans from nearing, while those with faerie blood could walk right up to it. Some had even sworn they’d glimpsed the gigantic wolves and scaled beasts of Folkyn that roamed the ever-stretching forests and rivers on the other side.

The shuffled movement of huddled bodies came to a stop.

A hush descended over the field as both steed and monster alighted one by one.

Grass and flowers lurched. The very soil beneath our feet rippled. No one moved. I wondered if many had ceased breathing, and if they too felt it. The way the air grew colder—thicker—as if the horde of wild faeries had brought the night sky closer to land.

“Move,” Rolina snarled, nails curling into my skin once more.

I did, and right as someone stepped on my dress. I heard it tear and cringed. I loathed sewing, and Rolina would insist I mend it right away. I hoped I wouldn’t have to. Hoped I might never see our sewing kit again.

We stopped again, and over the many bobbing shoulders and heads before us, I tried to make out what awaited. I’d seen it before, but only from atop our apartment building. Never, ever so wonderfully close.

The horses were the first thing I glimpsed, jet black with wings and so tall their heads reached the top of the giant tent being erected. The dark material shimmered into place in slow rippling curls that could’ve been mistaken for a shudder in the night sky.

A place of feigned privacy for trade.

Just as the crowd moved forward again, a roar split through the growing chill. It seemed to crack open gaps between time to freeze us all. Awaiting Crustle citizens cried out and covered their ears, including Rolina. All those who weren’t like me.

Rolina cursed and swung her eyes up at me, a glimmer of something that looked alarmingly like fear within.

Impossible.

The creature who’d ignored me at best, belittled and abused me at worst, cared nothing for me.

I’d lost count of all the times I’d imagined what life might look like if I’d been her human daughter rather than a faerie who’d been forced to take her place. Until I’d learned there were far better things to spend my time imagining. Things that might prove achievable.

I didn’t know who I belonged to, but not a day nor night could pass without Rolina making sure I knew it wasn’t her.

My heart dipped, then began to race. After all this time, I would receive the chance to find out exactly where and to whom I did belong.

As the growling and roaring of caged beasts settled, we again pushed forward. Two flames danced to life upon steel poles, signaling the entrance to the tent. No one would ever find it otherwise. Rumor stated there was no opening in the tent. No entering without a faerie guiding the way.

Rolina’s impatience returned. Muttering to the backs of the men in front of us about the selfishness and slowness of those already paying their way into the tent to trade, she fidgeted. She scratched at her arms and attempted to look ahead, but she was too short to see much.

I pressed my lips together.

My unseemly height was one of Rolina’s favorite things to insult. At six-foot, I didn’t believe I was tall by faerie standards, but of course, I would forever be anything but seemly to her.

Closer and closer, the tent of faeries loomed.

I supposed I should have been scared, and I was. But mostly, I was just anxious. Worry of failure unfurled into worry over the outburst that awaited if we were turned away and I was left to clean up the aftermath of irate Rolina while also choking on my own crushing disappointment. A disappointment that would surely break my heart.

Three people now remained in front of us.

I felt Rolina’s desperation. If this didn’t work, then that was it. Just like every other citizen of Crustle, I was as good as stuck here. There was always talk of those risking their lives to escape, but I’d heard nothing of real use that might help me do the same.

It wasn’t that I had a death wish. I knew people lived here both out of choice and necessity, and I knew of the horrors awaiting in the faerie lands of Folkyn.

But I also knew that I’d been dumped here in Crustle for a reason.

Whether that reason be wretched or plain stupid, all I wanted was to know what it was. Perhaps then, I would learn who I was. Perhaps then, I could join my family or find a home within a community that allowed me to live a life of my own choosing.

A life that didn’t involve saving myself from all the world had to offer to appear nurtured and protected and, therefore, easier swapped with the hunt. A life that did not involve serving a woman who made a mess of our apartment just to keep me away from my few enjoyments to clean it.