Freed (Imprisoned by the Fae 3)

She’s not wrong. “It was like that when I was in Siúcra, too.”

“So who was that guy? The Dark Fae that came after us? He shouldn’t have been able to find us in the shadows, but it almost looked like he did.”

So she picked up on it, too.

“That’s Dusk. He’s a guard at Siúcra. Well, he was. He got shipped to a different prison. Samradh.” Which is probably what the name of the prison we were at is. “He was out for a while after I set him on fire, but he looks like he’s all healed up now.”

“Wait a second. You set him on fire?”

I can hardly believe that I have to admit it. “I didn’t mean to. Rys gave me faerie fire—”

Riley huffs. “Because of course he did.”

“Don’t blame Rys,” I shoot back, nerves getting the better of me. And I get it. I do. Riley has history with Rys, and faerie fire’s a pretty touchy subject with her. Still. “If it wasn’t for his gift, that asshole would’ve touched me without his permission. I was protecting myself.”

Riley opens her mouth, thinks better of what she’s about to say, then throws up her hands. “Okay. You’re right. I know what it’s like to want to avoid a touch. Trust me. But what do you think that was all about?”

I wish I knew.

11

We don’t go back. As much as I’m dying to find out what’s happening, it’s too big of a risk. Besides, both Rys and Nine are expecting us to be good little girls who are waiting for the men to come back to take care of them.

I say that to Riley and she actually snorts. Turns out it’s not that we’re girls, but that we’re their girls. Fae—whether they’re Seelie or Unseelie—have a possessive streak a mile wide when it comes to their mates.

Yeah. I kind of figured that one out a while ago.

I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I last slept. Thanks to the consistently purple sky in the Shadow Realm, it seems like this has been a never-ending night. I feel bone tired, but my anxiety over the guys is making it impossible for me to do anything but pace.

Riley makes herself a shadowy nest on the ground, then mutters something about how she wished she could do this as easily when she’s at the cemetery.

I decide not to ask what that’s about.

Instead, I keep on moving, trying to burn off some of my anxious energy, waiting for some sign of Rys. I eventually get it when I finally hear the roaring sound of hoofbeats racing toward us.

Riley perks up. I stop pacing, vibrating in place.

It isn’t much longer before he’s there. And—I almost drop to my knees in relief—he’s not alone.

Rys has Jim lying in front of him, sprawled out across the horse’s back. With one hand, he’s holding onto Jim, keeping him from falling off of Herla. With the other, he’s holding tightly to Herla’s black mane.

The horse slows to a trot as they come into the clearing. At the same time, Nine slips out of the shadows.

“Nine!”

He holds his arms out to Riley, welcoming her as she runs straight to him. Slinging his arm over her shoulder, pressing her closely into his side, he looks over her head so that he’s talking right to Rys.

“I tried to lose the ones who came after us. I traveled all the way toward Scáth and I think I got all but the last. What about you?”

“I sensed a Dark Fae portal-hopping, trying to keep up.” Rys presses his palm to Jim’s back. “Herla outran his shade-walking. He’s a marvelous beast and the Hunter has earned everything I owe him. But I don’t believe that we’ve lost him entirely. To follow as far as he did, it won’t take much for him to track us to this point.”

While Jim stays quiet and still on the horse, Rys dismounts easily, then lifts Jim up. I hear a muffled groan when Rys sets him on his feet, slipping Jim’s arm behind his neck so that he’s carrying his weight.

“The human is in no shape to keep riding. If the Dark Fae decides he wants to come after Samradh’s prisoner, then he’ll have to find us here.”

In the shadows, I can’t quite see Jim’s face. His head is hanging, his chin tucked into his chest, and his dark hair hides the rest of him. But he moaned which means, no matter what, he’s still alive.

From the way Rys is moving him so gingerly, I’m not so sure he’s going to stay that way much longer.