Preview of Faerie Killer:
“You’ll have one chance to kill him, Ivy,” said the old man.
I swallowed and nodded, clutching the practise sword in my hands. Even now, it felt like I was rehearsing a stage play, pretending to be a fierce warrior. Back in my old life, I used to be in an amateur theatre group. Since I’d come here, ‘play’ had taken on a whole new meaning. The other week, Lord Avakis had decided to put on an amateur theatre production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. When it became clear nobody knew their lines, he’d started a fire.
Faeries. Even psychopathic ancient Sidhe lords acted like toddlers half the time. Problem was, it didn’t stop Lord Avakis from being all-powerful and immortal.
And I planned to kill him.
Two practise swords clashed. Gerry was easily seventy-five years old, but moved like a much younger man. It took everything I had to fend off each blow with my practise sword. I never did figure out why some people adapted well to Faerie and others withered and died overnight. Time acted strangely here. A week could pass in a second, while an hour could last a lifetime.
The sword flew from my hand, and the tip of a blade pointed at my neck. “Again.”
I winced, rubbing my hands where the wooden sword had taken a layer of skin off. “We’ve been here for hours.”
“And we’ll stay here until you get it right. You’re the only one who can kill him.”
“No, I’m not,” I grumbled, picking the sword up again. There were fifty or so of us humans here—whenever a few died, Lord Avakis would go back into the mortal realm to grab some more victims—and in theory, we were all equally doomed. Faerie claimed us one at a time. Those who didn’t fall victim to Avakis’s random fits of rage were chewed up by the nasty creatures living out there in the forest of the Grey Vale. There was no reason I’d survived other than pure dumb luck. Tomorrow, it might just run out.
Smack. There went my sword again. I picked it up, narrowing my eyes at Gerry. “You knew I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Yes, because you’ll get exactly one chance, if you’re lucky,” he said. “Lord Avakis never lets his guard down. You’ll have to be stealthy, and you’ll have to act fast once he catches onto you. You know what you have to do. Like any faerie.”
“Stab it until it stops moving,” I said.
It sounded simple. Except faeries had only one weakness that would actually kill them, and it couldn’t be found in this realm.
“Do you still have it?” Gerry asked me.
I nodded stiffly. The slither of iron was tucked inside my shoe, where it rubbed uncomfortably against my toes. I’d taken it from the hand of a boy who I found lying on the forest path by the castle, his body still warm and drenched in the smell of the hellhounds who’d ripped his throat out. His blood stained the rusted nail, fresh and copper-scented. A cynical part of me thought the kid had had a lucky escape. He’d lasted less than a day in Faerie. Most of us weren’t so fortunate.
“How long have you been here?” I’d asked the old man once.
He’d laughed, like I’d told a hilarious joke. “Too long. Mortal time passes in a flicker of infinity over here.”
I hoped he was referring to his time spent here, not mine. It had been three years and fifteen days. I knew. I’d counted every one of them, from the first time I’d stumbled down the shadowy path and found myself in front of a house from a fairy tale.
This was a fairy tale, all right. Just not the pleasant, happily-ever-after type. The faerie prince was a raving lunatic who kept humans as pets in a castle of stone in the middle of a never-ending twilit forest. From here, the window showed the backs of the trees—taller than any that grew in the mortal world, and older even than the most ancient Sidhe. This was a world where humans were prey, their lives as fleeting as the tiniest insects’. Gerry flat-out refused to tell me his own story, but I’d gleaned that he’d been here the longest.
Thwack. Ouch. The sword flew from my hand.
“Concentrate, Ivy.”
I bowed mockingly. “Yes, master.” I picked the sword up and attempted a fancy twirling motion. The sword clattered to the ground again.
Gerry sighed. “You’re not focusing.”
“Can’t have anything to do with my duel to the death, can it?” I retrieved the sword, adjusting my grip. “Give me some credit. I’d never picked up a sword in my life before I came here.”
I’d given up trying to imagine what younger Ivy would think if she saw me now. I wasn’t that girl anymore, nor could I imagine ever being her again. Faerie had slid into my bones and warped me, turned me into someone who would give anything to survive another day, another hour, another minute.
Death wasn’t the worst fate I might meet if I lost my fight with Avakis.
The sword rattled free from my hands at another blow.
“Ivy.”
“Yes?” I picked up the weapon, and in a sudden burst of movement, I launched myself at him.
Gerry met me in a clash of blades. Even with a practise sword, the jolting motion shocked through my whole body, wrenching my upper arms and shoulders. I gritted my teeth, my sweaty hands slipping.
No match for a Sidhe.
Give it up.
I screamed and pushed back, trying to inch the blade towards his hand and disarm him. But it took every ounce of energy left in me just to hold onto the sword.
My grip broke. The other sword pointed at my neck.
I held up my hands in defeat. “This is a waste of time. I can’t beat you, there’s no way I can beat a Sidhe. I don’t have a hundred years to practise.”
“Then you’ll have to trick him,” said Gerry. “Exploit his weaknesses. Everyone has them.”
“Not the Sidhe,” I muttered. “He has magic, and I can’t even see it.”
Only faeries had the Sight—the ability to see through glamour, and faerie magic itself. All I knew was that Summer magic was green, fresh and vividly alive, while Winter was blue or white as ice, and just as cold. I’d be relying on the Sidhe lords’ rules of combat to face off against Avakis without bringing magic into the equation. According to the rules, we’d get one weapon each, and the victor would get one favour from the loser.
I needed that favour to get home. I was counting on it.
“He has weaknesses,” said Gerry. “He’s a vain fool, for one, like all the Sidhe. He’s blinded to what’s in front of him. He’d never expect you to challenge him.”
“Because nobody ever has.” I spun the sword in my hands. “He’s killed another Sidhe lord, for god’s sake.”
“A long time ago,” said Gerry. “His power has diminished since he was exiled here.”
I frowned. “Diminished? Seriously? How’d you even know that?”
“Because they fey-kind are sustained by the magic living in their own realm. This place—” He indicated the stone walls and the silvery trees outside—“Isn’t alive. The only faeries with a good amount of magic left in here are the recent exiles and those who steal from others.”
“You’re telling me this now?” My voice shook as I remembered the last time I’d seen Avakis use magic, when he’d waved a hand and two people had dropped dead, their necks broken. Just like that. “Why not tell me before?”
“Because I’ve risked my neck to find out this information for you,” he said. “You ought to know by now the best way to survive here is to keep quiet and listen.”
Yeah. Didn’t I know it. Anyone who spoke out of line—or depending on Avakis’s mood, spoke at all—rarely lived long enough to regret it.
“Okay,” I said. “I do keep quiet. Most of the time.”
Gerry shook his head. “You do now. You’re the opponent he least expects. He won’t single you out until it’s too late.”
“For him,” I said, wishing I believed the words. I’d fantasised about standing over his dead body a hundred times, but in the last few weeks where we’d come up with the plan, the dream had warped and twisted into a terrifying, insurmountable thing. I could hardly sleep for fear I’d wake up and find his hands around my throat. I didn’t dare talk to the other captives in case I gave something away and they got blamed for it.
Gerry seemed pleased with my response. His thin mouth quirked in a smile. “You’re good,” he said. “You’re fast, a quick improviser, and determined. I knew you were the one, as soon as I saw you…” He trailed off, his smile fading.
As for me, I fought to keep my hands steady. He’d almost referenced the day we’d met, when I’d nearly died at the hands of the angry Thorn Princess of the Vale. I’d fought my way out of a web of thorns through sheer willpower, and if not for Gerry’s quick actions, I’d have died. As it was, I had a nice collection of scars and a hell of a grudge against roses.
“Better hope he doesn’t remember me,” I said. I’d given Avakis no end of trouble for the first few weeks of my imprisonment—until the thorn incident. I’d been missing for two days, and because Avakis never bothered to keep a register of his captives, Gerry had told me he’d think I’d died… as long as I kept my mouth shut from that point on.
So I’d become someone else. Quiet. Invisible. Tiptoeing around the castle like a ghost. To him, all humans were the same: weak, desperate, breakable. He’d never expect anyone to challenge him. With good reason, to be honest.
“I’m human,” I said. “I could be the world’s best athlete and still wouldn’t be able to outclass a Sidhe. He has centuries’ of experience in swordplay, he’s three times faster than a regular human, and he has magic. Oh, and there’s the ability to heal from almost any wound, too.” I threw down the sword. “I’m doing the best with what I have, but it’s not a lot, to be honest.”
“You have iron.”
The nail burned against my foot. So much depended on that tiny metal sliver. Avakis’s healing ability meant that any damage I dealt would fade within minutes, if not seconds. I’d need to use the iron as early as possible, and deal a fatal blow.
“Ivy, I know you’re scared—”
“You’re damn right I’m scared,” I said shrilly. “If I lose, I won’t see the dawn. I like being alive, thanks.” I saw it as my personal mission, actually, because of how much it pissed off Avakis. He wanted us to willingly beg him to put us out of our misery. Sure, life here wasn’t happily-ever-after, but that didn’t mean I had no future.
Mum and Dad will still be there. They’ll be waiting for you. When I was awake, I did my best to avoid thinking about the destruction I’d seen on the day the faeries had come. The bodies in the streets. If I’d learned anything in the past three years, it was that humans were damn good at surviving.
“Being here isn’t living,” Gerry said. “You deserve a real life, and to do that—”
“I need to kill him. Got it.” I rubbed my sore hands together. A real life. He’d stolen three years from me already. I blinked furiously, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes.
“He wants your suffering. Don’t give it to him.”
“Kinda difficult if he decides to cut me to pieces. Okay. I’m ready.”
We sparred for another twenty minutes, then Gerry said, “Enough. You need to be rested for tomorrow.”
“I’ll challenge him when he comes back from hunting,” I said. I didn’t need a wakeup call. The castle itself would tell me when Avakis came back, along with his creepy guards.
Gerry took the other practise sword from me. “Remember, Ivy. One chance only.”
“Why me?” I blurted out. “Why—why do you think I should be the one?”
Gerry looked me in the eyes. “Because you’re the only one with the will to fight back.”
