Years ago, the Trolls were banished into the Nether, a void of evil and darkness between the magical realms. With their greed and treachery locked away, peace has reigned throughout the worlds. But not for nineteen-year-old witch, Aramina. Being dis...
One of them steps forward. "Identify yourselves." His voice blends into the serene atmosphere of their presence, just as beautiful and cold.
"How about you go first?" Roane says.
The man smirks. "My name is Addamack, guard to the throne of Forever."
I stifle a gasp. "Faeries..."
"What I would like to know is how a troll managed to slip out of the Nether..." His blue eyes narrow. "Not to mention what a human is doing on Fae land? You do know the penalty for trespassing is death."
"This is Elven land," Roane rumbles. "And you won't want to kill us. I think your king will want that pleasure."
Addamack's fine mouth spreads to a smile. He laughs then. The rippling sound tickles down my spine in waves of pleasure that curl at my stomach. I've read of Fae glamour, the intoxicating and hypnotizing power that makes them appear more beautiful and enticing than they already are. It's especially strong against humans, but I never imagined it capable of making a laugh debilitating.
"And who might you be to believe that the High King would grant you an audience," Addamack asks, "much less give you the honor to die by his blade?"
Roane steps forward. The Fae guards draw their swords in unison, the slice of metal piercing the quiet. I tug at Roane's shirt, but he doesn't back down.
"My name is Roane, Crown Prince to the Throne of the Dark Elves."
"Anyone can make ridiculous claims."
Roane peels off his sweatshirt and throws it at Addamack's feet. Upon seeing the myriad tattoos on Roane's body, Addamack's smile withers, leaving but ice in his eyes. His hand tightens around his blade and my pulse quickens; he can cut down Roane in one strike. Thankfully, he whirls a finger. Two guards come forward, binding Roane's wrists. They then tie mine, the thin white ropes like thorny vines digging into my wrists.
Sliding his sword back into his sheath, Adamack turns and lead the way out. The last I see before a hood is thrown over my head is Roane pulled out ahead of me with the posture of a warrior and the air of a prince.
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For some time, I don't know which is worse—the freezing rain, the fact I can't see a thing through the hood over my head, or the snow entombing my legs up to my knees.
After miles, where I can no longer feel my feet or my wrists, the ground solidifies beneath me. The air has taken a deeper chill, and a faint light spills in through the darkness of my hood. Every part of me knows we're within the walls of Forever. Its magic pricks at my skin, and in spite of being dragged in here as a prisoner, a smile curls my lips.
The groaning of doors and gates resound until finally we come to a stop and the hood is snapped from over my head. I wince at the faint light that is too bright to my eyes and haul in a breath that makes me cringe as it chills my lungs.
