Forever (An Unfortunate Fairy Tale, #5)(40)

“Mina.” His voice echoed through the air, taunting her.

“I’m here,” she answered.

“So am I,” he said from right behind her.

He was just as she pictured in her dream, wearing the same exact clothes, even the same exact expression of triumph. “I’ve come for what’s mine.”

“It’s in my bag.”

“Give it to me.” He stepped forward and held out his hand.

Mina carefully opened up the crossover bag and reached inside, her fingers brushing the dagger. “Remember what you promised. You’d leave my friends and family alone if I gave you the dagger and my life.”

She sucked in her breath and squeezed the blade until she felt the sharp sting as it sliced her skin. A burning sensation followed, but she held in the gasp and tried to mask the pain. She wanted to be the one in control, and this was the fastest way to seal the deal and protect her friends.

“Yes, I get the dagger and your life. In exchange, they go free. I promise. Now give me the dagger.” His eyes searched hers and looked at her bag in worry. He noticed how long she was drawing out handing him the weapon.

Mina lost her equilibrium and had problems focusing. A cold shock went through her body as she pulled the cursed dagger out of the bag and held it out to Teague. There was no mistaking the long bleeding cut along her hand from the poisoned dagger.

“Mina, what have you done?” She thought she saw a hint of worry flash across his face, but she must have imagined it.

He wanted her life, but he hadn’t specified how.

“Here,” she whispered, her lips trembling as she fell to her knees. “I give you both the dagger and my life”—breathing became hard as she fought to make her lungs work—“freely.” Then the poison froze her limbs. The only thing she could feel as she hit the ground was the coldness of the wet grass against her cheek.

Then her world went dark.





Chapter 19



Pain seized Mina, and she woke up gasping. Teague, face grim, leaned over her. Her stomach knotted, and she curled up in a ball to try and protect herself.

“Make it stop,” she cried out.

Teague cursed in anger.

“Kill me,” she begged. Never in her life or death—if that’s what this was—had she ever thought she’d beg Teague to kill her. But she meant it. “Just kill me and get it over with.”

“Not yet.” She swore his eyes turned gray for a minute. She watched his hands glow brightly when he brought them near her arm. “I have to burn the poison out of your bloodstream.”

Another searing pain laced up her hand, and she blacked out.

When she came to again, she had to fight to open her eyes, crusted shut from dried tears. She lay in a pile of straw in a dank, dark room. Mina’s first thought was “dungeon,” and her second thought was that she wasn’t dead. Iron bracelets adorned each of her wrists with small etched writing that looked Fae. Her skin burned and itched in slight irritation. She tried to use power to get them off, but it only hurt her wrists and turned them bright red. She quickly abandoned that idea. It seemed—though the bands were light—there was enough iron in the cuffs to limit her power. She studied the burns on her wrists and noticed that her palm had been well bandaged.

Peeling back the white cloth, she saw that the cut had already healed. But the scar was still there, jagged and pink.

How long had she been here? She pulled off the bandage and let it fall to the straw. There wasn’t much room in her cell, just enough space to stand and walk five paces from one side to the other. A Fae light floated in the middle of the area, giving her light to see by, but little else was in the room. There wasn’t even a door.

How strange. “I’m either still dreaming… or dead.”

“No, you’re not dead, though you should be,” Teague’s voice rang out around her. A hole opened in the brick wall, and he stepped through it. He wore his royal robes again with the silver-leaf emblem on the collar. Which probably meant they were at the Fae palace, and she was in his dungeon “You thought to rob me of my prize, dear Mina. We can’t have that. I said I wanted your life, and I shall have it, but only I will decide when your short lifespan will be over. Do you understand?” He grasped her chin and made her look up at him.

She searched his eyes for a hint of gray. “And when will that be?”

“Soon, if you don’t stop asking annoying questions.” He thrust her chin downward and forced her gaze away.

“Fine,” she snapped, instantly regretting it.

Every inch of her wanted to fight and defy him, but if surviving was a possibility—if holding back her anger could help—she had to rein that in. She’d told Nan she was going to survive.

Teague wouldn’t admit it, because he preferred looking cruel and in control. But he saved her life, gave her a second chance. She wasn’t sure why he’d done it, but she hoped it was because part of him was still good.

She had seen it in her vision. Good still existed in him. She just needed to find it.

“How’s your hand?” He turned away from her, clasped his hands behind his back, and pretended to talk to the wall.

“It’s fine.”

“And how do you fare?” Again without turning around.