Nehelon’s grin widened as if he found something indescribably amusing and pushed away from the windowsill, eyes never blinking. Not even once.
Gandrett’s hand strained to reach for her sword, but the invisible grasp didn’t allow so much as a quarter of an inch. Sweat was plastering her hair to her neck and was trickling down her back and chest, leaving stains on the pale fabric.
“You’re afraid,” he mused as if that was something to ponder rather than the effect of his involuntary revelation.
He took a stride toward her, then another, and another, pushing Gandrett’s heart to its limits as it raced in fear, until he stopped one short step away, towering over her by over one head and glancing down at her as if he had just discovered a very pleasant dish.
Had her chest not started to ache, her eardrums not throbbed from the thundering of her weak, human heart, she might have noticed to a full extent how different Nehelon looked compared to what she had seen that first time she had laid eyes on him. His face was smooth planes and sharp angles, sun-kissed. And heart-wrenchingly beautiful. With eyes, cold and calculating, that had nothing to do with the smile on his full lips. He was Fae, and it was obvious on every inch of his gods-damned, chiseled features. As if someone had pulled off a layer of disguise, a veil to conceal the damning reality.
“Good,” he said as if to himself, making Gandrett’s eyes shutter as she realized she wasn’t only staring from fear, but with a kind of morbid fascination.
“Here is what will happen, Gandrett Brayton.” His voice was a symphony of shimmering velvet. And lethal like a butchering knife. Gandrett shrank back against the wall of magic enclosing her, finding herself in the exact same position. “You didn’t see what I am. You were never in here. You missed me in my chambers and went right to the citadel to see the Meister and meet me there.” He flashed his teeth as he leaned closer, staring her down. “You will go upstairs, pack your things, then meet me at the citadel. When we step in front of the Meister, I will do the talking. And you will agree to everything I say. Every demand, every condition of my bargain with the Meister, you will nod your consent.” His face was an inch from hers, breath hot on her cheeks, gaze hard and deep like blue diamond. “Understood?”
Gandrett nodded, finding her head to be the only part of her body capable of moving. There was nothing not to understand in his words.
“If you linger, if you speak to anyone, if you try to make a run for it,” he added, voice low and clear. “If you try, I will know. I will come find you. And you will regret you ever met me.”
Again, Gandrett’s head bobbed as if compelled by his words. Not that she needed another reason to regret having met him. It was already ingrained in her system to hate him, to fear him, to put as much distance between him and whatever was dear to her. But that didn’t matter now, did it?
As if he suddenly lost interest, Nehelon turned around and strode to the armchair by the bedroom door, leaving her standing like a petrified doll. “Now is the time to swing your pretty legs and run upstairs,” he said, flinging himself into the chair, and watched her with mild amusement as he crossed one ankle over a knee. And when Gandrett didn’t react, he barked, “Now.”
Like a bolt of lightning, his voice tore through her core, almost making her fall forward as he lifted the spell on her. Nehelon bestowed on her a mocking grin before he gestured at the door and cocked his head, not needing to say anything else prior to Gandrett’s survival instinct kicking in again, and she reached for the doorknob behind her, never taking her eyes off the Fae male lounging in a chair across the room as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Chapter Six
Gandrett ran, ran, ran, not looking left or right as she climbed up the stairs to her room. She prayed to Vala that Surel wasn’t there for fear she would ask questions. Questions which cost time to evade when she wasn’t allowed to give answers.
She might have grown up away from the world, but she was no fool, understanding that the Fae could hear through walls, that they could smite humans at a whim without lifting as much as a finger. If she talked, Nehelon would know. She was certain of it. He was probably down there, straining his Fae ears to pick up every step of hers.
Gandrett quickened her pace as she made it to the dim corridor, out of breath, not from the physical strain but fear, from the feeling that she was being watched. Only a couple more steps, and she’d be able to fulfill Nehelon’s first order. Pack her things.
She ditched a girl who had a room at the other end of the corridor, noting her curious glance from the corner of her eyes—no one ever saw Gandrett out of breath. She had become so much a master of her own strength and stamina that no one at the order was able to engage her into fighting long enough to push her to her limits. Not even the Meister. Not anymore.
But Gandrett didn’t give any sign she had seen the girl, instead rushing on to her room and slipping inside, closing the door and leaning against it, taking a deep breath.
Thank Vala, the room was empty.
Another breath. This couldn’t be happening. The Fae were banned. They were bound to their own lands, to the shades of their trees, to their forests. How had Nehelon gotten out?
Then it hit her that that wasn’t really the question she should be asking herself. The one that begged an answer: What did he want with her?
Unable to gather a clear thought, other than she needed to hurry, Gandrett pulled out her spare set of clothes, what few toiletries she possessed, bundled them up in her worn nightgown, and stowed them in her satchel. She grabbed her narrow, leather vambraces from the shelf—the only piece of armor they were allowed in the priory, and slipped them over her hands then pulled her sleeves over them so no one would notice them.
When she had hidden them, she halted and sat on the bed. What was she doing? She couldn’t just sneak out of the priory with the Fae male. What if he was just on the lookout for his next snack? And what if she ran? How fast would he catch up with her? Would she even make it through the night?
The scars spread on her back and arms spoke volumes about how much she could handle—whether they were from sparring accidents or from the frequent occasions the Meister got dissatisfied. But could her body endure the brute strength of a Fae?
She shuddered and rested her head in her palms for a short while—just a couple of breaths, she told herself. But the shrill tweeting of the fat, gray bird on her windowsill made her jerk upright.
“Shoo, shoo.” She fanned her arms at the creature. The same bird Nehelon had been talking to. Nehelon’s messenger.
The feathered beast cocked its head at her and clicked its beak as if telling her to follow through with her promise.
Promise. Gandrett snorted and threw the strap of the satchel over her shoulder. It hadn’t been a promise, but she had been threatened. Vala help her. That Fae had intimidated her into submission and now had sure sent his fat, feathered spy to know if she was talking to anyone.
Gandrett’s gaze fell on the desk where her prayer book was sitting, still opened to the page she’d been reading when the messenger had summoned her. Not the book but the pen behind it. If only she could leave a note for Surel to tell her what had happened. But she had to get away from the bird first—