“I really don’t know anything about magic. I grew up around humans. If the queen knows who I am, she should know that much.” The effort of speaking was exhausting me.
“How did you get here?”
I rolled flat on my back, staring up at the leaves. “Some kind of magic I didn’t understand.” This, at least, was true.
He held up the wooden cup. “Open your mouth if you want to drink.”
Hating myself for my pathetic state, I opened my mouth, sticking out my tongue. Morgant let one tiny drop of water drip onto my tongue at a time. I licked them up until Morgant pulled the cup away again.
“What did it look like? And feel like? The magic that brought you here.”
Water. “It was…flashing lights…and a spell…” The effort of making up a convincing lie was clearly beyond me, and Morgant smacked me hard again, a pain so sharp that a bright light burst behind my eyes.
“Do not touch me again,” I hissed with as much ferocity as I could muster .
Morgant stood, amber eyes boring into me. He held the stone cup above me and dumped it onto the oaky floor by my head. “You lived among the humans and may not know how resilient the fae are. Physically. Your mind may break. You may pray for death as you starve. As you go mad with thirst. But death will not come so easily.”
“You’re a fucking animal,” I muttered. The words tripped off my tongue before I could stop myself. As soon as they were out of my mouth, I knew I’d made a terrible mistake.
Morgant whirled, and pain ripped through my shoulder where I’d been pierced by the arrow, but he wasn’t even touching me. I writhed on the floor as his excruciating magic rent the back of my shoulder.
“Do you know the gifts Briga blessed me with?” he snarled. “The ash goddess has chosen me as a healer. I can rebuild broken bones and torn skin and muscle. But the magic that heals can also rip a body apart.”
Sharp tendrils of magic pierced my muscles like talons. I couldn’t utter a word, just inhuman screams.
“And here I am,” he hissed, “with exquisite control over my magic, and you with none. You, howling like an animal. I know that is what the Seelie call us. Animals. Demons. But we respect animals here, the majestic creatures of the forest. In Faerie, they eat them. And do you know what I think? The Seelie should not use the word as an insult when they are more brutal than the animals themselves. When the Seelie spit at fae like you. Pathetic. Unable to summon a single strand of magic. ”
When he pulled his agonizing magic from me, it was like a predatory beast releasing his claws from his prey.
My entire body was shaking, and nausea welled in my stomach.
“If you want to get out of here alive,” he said sharply, “perhaps learn to use your magic. That is the best advice I can give you.”
He moved out of my line of vision, and I heard the door creak open, then slam shut.
I pressed my face against the floor and shivered uncontrollably. That neon light kept blazing in the back of my mind, blinking with thoughts of Torin. I was sure now he was locked in here somewhere, battered worse than I was.
And clearly, I was delirious from dehydration, because I was starting to see things…seeing the vines and leaves rising around me, reaching for me—
A pounding sound interrupted the vision. A booming noise in my skull?
I lay back on the floor, head pounding. Heart like ice.
BOOM. BOOM.
But even as the noise hammered on, I let my eyes drift shut. First, I thought of winter—of a frost encasing the world in white. Ice that crept over a kingdom…
Then I dreamed of the tree coming to life, shifting away from the stone walls. It was creeping, moving across the forest, setting us free in a symphony of wooden creaks and groans. Red leaves fluttered through the world around us like blood drops, and Torin and I walked free.
Desperation and pain were fragmenting my mind.
And this was why they called it the Court of Sorrows…
6
AVA
Every time I woke, the pain seared my back, and I regretted regaining consciousness. So I’d fall back asleep, dreaming of cool lemonade, strawberry milkshakes, and mangoes…
Always in the background of my dreams, I heard Torin screaming my name, and the dreams would slide into nightmares—a landscape of sharp icicles, a frozen tundra where Torin needed my help, and I couldn’t find him.
My eyes snapped open. The pain in my shoulder had changed, less a sharp laceration and more of a burning sensation. Swollen.
I reached back with my left arm and winced. The skin was hot and sore to the touch. Infected.