Ambrosia (Frost and Nectar, #2)(22)

“This is amazing,” Ava whispered, staring up at it.

I exhaled slowly as hope burned brighter in my chest. If anything around here was the home of a weird old mountain hag, this bizarre castle must be it.

And right now, this was our one and only chance to escape and return Ava to the mortal realm, where she belonged.

Everything hinged on what happened next.

“Ava,” I said quietly, “let me go in first.”

She turned to me, a puff of breath escaping her mouth. “Fine. I’ll be the lookout.”

I hoisted myself up the vines. The icy wind whipped over me, making the snow whirl around me in vortices. My heart raced with anticipation. A few thorns stabbed my fingers, and I kept my eye on the dark entry above. At last, I reached the door and hoisted myself up. Moonlight pierced narrow open windows, and ash dusted the floor inside.

Lanterns jutted from the all, made from fae skulls with unlit candles inside. Lightning flashed, illuminating the walls, a bas-relief carving of a veiled woman with antlers, her body surrounded by gnarled, leafy designs. A chill rippled over me. At least I knew I was in the right place.

My gaze slid over the Unseelie words carved into the walls, over and over. The same words, and for a moment, I thought I understood the foreign language. From somewhere deep in the recesses of my soul, the words rang out.

I burn.

My breath caught, and I turned away from them, unnerved by whatever magic danced all over this place. I only needed the lady of the castle to appear.

A well stood in the center of the hall. How could she have a well in this place? I peered over the edge and saw a void that made the hair rise on the back of my neck.

Outside, the mournful sound of an owl pierced the air. I crossed to a stairwell, sniffing the air. It smelled of dogs in here. Wolves, maybe.

“Torin!” Ava’s voice made my heart slam, and I raced back to the door.

When I peered out, I found her trying to climb the vines. An arrow shaft jutted from her back. My blood turned to ice as Morgant swooped up behind her, his black wings pounding the night air.

Sword in hand, I leapt from the entrance. When I landed on the rock, pain shot up my legs, but it hardly registered. I was too late. Morgant had pulled Ava away and was carrying her into the air.

As I raced down the rocky path, Unseelie surrounded me, armed with swords and bows. My heart beat like a war drum .

I forced my thoughts to go quiet, like a blanketing of snow.

An Unseelie demon with long black hair and fangs stood at the front, gripping the hilt of his sword. “Where did you think you were going?” he asked. “No one enters or leaves except by the pleasure of the queen, and you, Seelie dog, will be strung up before the castle gates and eviscerated at her pleasure.”

I gripped the Sword of Whispers, focusing on the dark-haired fae. I didn’t have time for panic, and I didn’t have the luxury of making a single mistake. I was vastly outnumbered. At least I’d trained for this.

An Unseelie with long white hair and antlers aimed an arrow at me. “Drop your sword.”

A third stepped forward. “If you make this easy, we might make your death quick.”

I clenched my teeth. That promise didn’t sound particularly likely.

The white-haired archer shot an arrow that glinted in the moonlight as it soared for me. Time seemed to slow, and I blocked it with my blade. The dark-haired one screamed and ran for me with his sword raised, but his battle cry had given me the opportunity to ready myself for his attack. I slashed left, blocking his attack, then carved back again toward the right, slicing through his gut. The Sword of Whispers sang to me as blood spilled on the black lava.

You are death. The final rattle. You are the cold, silent shadows at the end.

The white-haired soldier arced his blade, swinging for my stomach. In one swoop, the Sword of Whispers carved through his weapon. A soldier slashed at me from above, and I drove my blade into his groin, crippling him. I whirled, spinning my sword to adjust my grip, and dodged out of the way of a battle ax. When I righted myself again, I cut my blade through the man’s throat. He dropped to the ground, and his ax clanged on the rock.

I pivoted, bringing the Sword of Whispers down through a man’s shoulder, the blade carving him in half.

I was trying to keep an eye out for the archer as I fought, but he’d slipped into the shadows. I’d always thought of archers as cowards, attacking from afar.

I whirled, driving my blade through the neck of my next attacker, then shifted to slice it through the chest of a demon with antlers.

As I readied my sword for another attack, excruciating pain slammed into me from behind. An arrowhead plunged into my flesh next to my lower spine, and I fell to my knees.

My blood roared in my ears as I tried to keep my grip on the sword. Another arrow pierced my shoulder blade, and I fell forward onto my hands. Blood spilled into my mouth. I clutched my sword as tightly as I could, but lost my grip on the hilt.





14





AVA




The journey up the mountain had seemed long and slow. The one back down?

Fast and brutal, a race on horseback over black, rocky terrain. Lying as I was facedown over a horse, my muscles jolted with every bump. At least Morgant had the decency to pull the arrow out of my back before he bound my hands.

Pain shot through me where the arrow had pierced my back. Morgant held me, one hand gripping my arms and the other on the horse’s reins.