What Lurks Between the Fates (Of Flesh & Bone, #3)(103)

Soren didn’t hesitate to draw the half-bald, dark-eyed creature into the center of the dance, showing patience as he taught her the moves for the song.

I smiled, crossing my arms over my chest as I watched my mate work to undermine the very structures that had kept Alfheimr functioning for centuries. Her smile was knowing every time she glanced toward me, and while she acted out of desire to see the Llaidhe treated equally, she wasn’t unaware of what she was doing.

With a dance, she painted herself as a savior—offering freedom from centuries of systemic oppression.

She made them love her, and as such, took the first step in building her army.





34


Estrella


The music stopped.

Caldris froze where he’d joined me—along with the others dancing around us—turning his gaze forward slowly. Malachi led a group of human mates toward the front of the throne room. A smirk graced his face as the attention of every Fae went to the men and women they led forward.

I turned my shocked stare to Caldris, watching as he squeezed his eyes closed in horror. “Estrella—”

I strode forward, only stopping when he wrapped his arms around my waist and held me back.

“Let go!” I hissed, my eyes landing upon some of the very same people who’d been cruel to me on our journey back to Alfheimr.

Their time in Tar Mesa hadn’t been kind—the clothing they wore was nothing but rags as they wrapped their arms around themselves and allowed themselves to be shuffled toward where Mab waited for them.

Caldris pulled me back more firmly, a strong forearm wrapping across my chest as I lifted my feet and tried to shift him off balance. But my mate was too familiar with every strategy I used when fighting, leaving me gasping for breath.

Rheaghan came up at my side as Soren stepped in front of me, blocking my view of what happened at the front.

“You are not responsible for her actions,” Rheaghan said, his voice low. The disappointment that was there hinted at his eternity of suffering—of blaming himself for the monster his sister had become.

“She’s doing this because of me,” I said, my voice dropping low as the fight slipped out of my body. I’d challenged her status quo too openly, and she couldn’t punish me publicly—not without strengthening my bond with the Llaidhe.

“She’s doing this because it makes her feel powerful to hold mates over our heads. She’s using you as a scapegoat because she wants to break you, and she knows that you will carry the weight of her crimes if she tells you to. No one here blames you,” Caldris said, using his free hand to tuck my hair behind my ear as I settled in his grip.

“Do these belong to anyone here?” Mab asked, looking around the room as she reached the top of her dais. These. Her words demeaned the mates, turning them into things instead of people—living and breathing.

She lowered herself into her throne, looking down upon the revelry and the human mates waiting to be claimed. Only three Fae stepped forward, two males and a female waiting to take what was theirs. The Fae Marks upon their skin swirled in tune with the ones on their matching human mates, but the humans didn’t cower in the face of what they’d once feared.

There was no light in their eyes as they shied away from Malachi and another of the guards who took up his place at the side.

“Return the other two,” Mab said, waving a hand.

The other guard guided the two who were unclaimed toward the throne room doors as one of the male Fae stepped forward.

“Please, my Queen,” he begged, cutting off when Mab turned her glare to him.

“I am feeling generous tonight. One of you will be allowed to leave here with your mate and complete your bond with my blessing, under the condition that you swear your allegiance to me,” she said, looking down upon the three who had gathered in front of her. I couldn’t see enough of them to decide if I knew them, if I’d spoken to them.

It was probably better that way.

The Fae waited for Mab’s decision, waited to know how much longer they would have to wait to leave with their mates if they weren’t chosen that evening. I suspected there were countless others in the throne room who had yet to even see the mate waiting for them, trapped in an endless game of Mab’s will.

Mab clicked her tongue as she studied them intently. “The blue,” she said, waving a dismissive hand.

One of the males hurried forward, grabbing the woman who had the same markings as he by the hands and pulling her out of the fray. They blended back in with the crowd, coming closer to us as he ran frantic hands over her face—her arms—searching for injuries.

At the front of the throne room, a woman screamed.

My eyes flashed toward it just in time to watch as Malachi swung his sword. The male’s head fell from his shoulders, dropping to the floor and rolling to the Fae female’s feet. She howled again, the shrill sound of her voice splitting the air in two.

The agony in it was too familiar. The same as that day the Veil fell.

I turned, burying my face into Caldris’s chest. I couldn’t bear to watch as the male pleaded for his mate’s life, but I forced myself to watch, anyway.

To remember.

The remaining woman turned terrified eyes toward the same male she’d probably feared before coming to Alfheimr. The desperation in them stole my breath away, time seeming to slow as her lips parted to speak.