City of Shadows (10 page)

A dull, throbbing ache pulsed up the entire left side of my face. Blood pooled in my mouth, bitter and metallic. I'd bitten my lip. I twisted and kicked, but the viselike hands held fast. Doors slammed somewhere nearby. Boots squeaked on the polished floor. But they didn't speak. Not a word.

My attackers dumped me on the floor. I reached up to grab the rag from my mouth, only to have my arms yanked behind my back and my wrists bound.

I wanted to ask
why.
Why had they let me in, only to do this now?

How many surrounded me, I didn't know. I heard them though: the creak of leather, level breathing, boots scuffing the floor. I kept my head bowed and tried
to
slow my breathing. My panicked heart thudded in my chest. Why were they waiting? Would these be my last few moments?

A hand sank into my hair, twisted, and yanked my head back, exposing my throat. The cool kiss of a blade pressed against my chin. This was it. My end. A smooth, perfectly calm voice whispered, “You slaughtered our brothers and sisters.”

Revenge.

“You're not real.” The male's whispered words tickled my ear. “How much does a construct bleed before it is no more?”

I heard sobs: my own. A warm wetness spread through my sweatpants, and I didn't care. He'd drag the blade across my throat and I'd bleed out here. Andrews's sister might never be found. I'd vanish, like she had. Andrews would probably come looking. He'd get himself killed. And Reign, goddamn him. He might not even care. He'd warned me. I should have listened.

A fist or a boot hit me low in the gut. A surge of pain doubled me up, and all I could think to do was curl into myself. The ties cut into my wrists. My stomach heaved.
I can't be sick. I'll choke. No—no. Please, please.

I had to kill those fae to get to the queen.

I didn't have a choice.

Please, I don't want to die.

“Anything?”

Kael. I latched onto his voice. He stood close, somewhere in front of me. I could almost see him in my mind: his rigid stance, narrow face, lips pulled into a thin barely there smile. Hate bloomed, vicious and sharp, inside my chest and the dark inside stirred awake. Intent trickled through my veins, sparking the hidden parts
of
me alive. I could stop this. I could stop them all, make them see the real me, make them witness the truth buried inside …

“Nothing.”

“
Hmm
… What will it take to rouse her, Construct?”

Her?
This wasn't revenge, nor was it because I'd spoken with Reign. Kael was forcing me to lose control, to incite the queen. If I did that, if I let go, what would be left of me?
I might burn out, unravel. I can't. I can't!
The blindfold was ripped from my face. I blinked to clear the tears. Kael studied me with a detached once-over, curling his lip at the sight of the wetness soaking my pants.

His slate-gray-eyed gaze roamed back to my face. “So disappointing.”
Bastard.
“And quite useless. Clearly she lied about her
potential
. Finish her.”

No!

The general straightened and stepped back. Blurs of red and black rushed in. Something—a fist, a knee—hit me hard in the jaw. Another punch, deep into my side. My gut heaved. I tasted bile and choked around the rag.

“More,” the general barked. “She'll have to fight back with everything she has. Or die.”

After the first few punches, the pain took over, swallowed me down and smothered me until I couldn't tell where the hits came from, or even where they landed, but always I returned my glare to Kael's expressionless face. With every blow, I curled deeper inside myself, until all I knew was hate, and all I could see was him: those shades of gray eyes and the lack of emotion. He stared right back at me, and I wondered if he could feel.

The cool darkness spread through my body, washing away the fire of pain. Relief. But not because it would be over. It had only just begun. While their fists
found
their mark and my blood soaked through my clothes, I'd brought my legs up behind me and slid a knife free of my boots.

A cruel lick of laughter drifted about the room finding its way between the grunts and snarls.

The general lifted a hand. His warriors straightened and stepped back.

The laughter rolled on and on, like an echo in the dark.

Kael crouched in front of me. His eyes narrowed, and then in one swift movement he tugged the rag free. The laughter escaped, and I realized it had been mine all along. But now it was real. The general leaned closer. He canted his head, frowning down at the mystery of me.

I swung the blade around and would have taken half his face off if he hadn't blocked my arm with his. A glimmer of surprise widened his eyes.
Here I am, asshole.
I went for his throat, but given my position on the floor, my aim went wide and my knuckles cracked across his chin. He jerked back, rising to his feet.

With slow, deliberate movements I stood up. The numbness had vanished, replaced by a steely hunger to kill. I scored each of them with my gaze, thought of how I'd disable them should they come at me. The general—I'd save him for last.

“
We are the same, you and I. You feel my life in your veins. My heart beats in you
.” The memory of the queen's words fueled the shadow inside. The general had loved her as his monarch. His gaze said as much. Hopeful, wary. Afraid. So afraid. Or was this more? Was the respect in his eyes for something else entirely, for something ancient, for One of the Three?

Someone to my right moved. I lifted the blade.

“Don't.” Kael waved his warriors back. They moved away;
good little puppets
. “This is what I want. Give her room to embrace the change.”

Embrace
it
. I'd embrace him and drive my dagger into his heart. A smile crawled across my lips.

“Yes,” Kael's thin lips twitched. “There she is. Let her in, Construct. Bring her back. Remember what it felt like—”

“Oh, I remember, Kael. I remember how you fell to your knees on a bloodied field, your ranks decimated. I remember how the queen found you there.” Not my memories, but it didn't matter. I saw him then, as he had once been. Blood splattered, his face white and eyes pleading with his queen for mercy.

“Good.” He swallowed and came closer, within reach of my blade. “More. Tell me more. Tell me everything.”

“She promised you a new army in a new world.”

“Yes.” He breathed the word, made it no more than a whisper.

“And you would serve her forever.” I slid my gaze across the others, not really seeing them, just counting their blades and the distance they'd need to go to save their general.

“Forever …” He echoed the promise and I sensed its resonance roll through me. “What else, Alina? What do you
feel
?”

My smile grew. “Everything.”

I lunged. Our blades sang as they struck. I pushed into him, staggering him backward. Power—a dark, all-consuming power spilled through my veins. I could kill Kael. Kill them all. He parried my next blow and hit me in my already sore gut, but it wasn't enough. I could take him, as I should have in the tunnels. I knew him, knew him better than I knew myself. His past, the queen's past, it all blurred together as one. Her obedient servant. Her loyal subject. I saw him bow to her—to me. He'd followed her orders, because he was bound to her by that promise on
the
blood-soaked battlefield. General Kael, her puppet, just like all the others she had dancing on the end of her weblike strings. My puppet. He was mine. The general, the hound, the people, London—all mine. And the presence inside, it embraced everything. All that had come before, and all that could be.

No, wait.
This wasn't me. I liked chocolate cake, liked the smell of autumn berries and cedar. I was afraid of heights and spiders.
What are you doing, American Girl?

The thoughts from that part of me who asked questions tripped up my stride, and in the momentary lapse of concentration Kael clamped a hand around my throat and slammed me into a wall. He pushed in close enough so that all I could see were his eyes. Eyes that had witnessed the death of hundreds of warriors who'd turned to him for guidance. He'd failed them.
Murdered
them.

A shivering sickness sent chills sprawling across my skin, and the dark I'd wrapped myself in fell away, leaving me gasping and exposed beneath Kael's grip.

My gut heaved. Shivers spilled down my skin. Adrenalin, fear, and a horrible wrenching sickness robbed me of everything. Pain, so much pain. Kael's smile was the last thing I saw before unconsciousness carried me away.

It might have been hours I'd lain awake in the empty bedroom, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I would fall apart if I moved.
I like chocolate cake. I'm afraid of heights. Reign is an asshat.
Those seemingly minor things I played over and over in my head, building on layer upon layer of what it meant to be Alina, weaving me back together and grounding me in my memories. I didn't have long
left.
I could feel it, the creeping separation. Kael's attack had tipped me over the edge—something had shifted again. I was losing parts of me. Whatever happened, I couldn't hold myself together with chocolate cake, heights, and Reign for much longer. My time was running out and with it any chance that I might find Becky.

The FA's house was quiet and had been for some time. Sunlight poured in through the windows. Birds twittered in the garden. I couldn't hide from this, not when the clock was ticking. Every second I stared at the ceiling was another second wasted.

“Get up,” I said, surprised by the steel in my voice.

I peeled off my soiled clothes, hands trembling the whole time, and padded barefoot into the shower. Hot water tapping against my back and shoulders made my bruised skin want to crawl off my bones. It hurt to move, to breathe, to lift my arms to wash the blood out of my hair. Shivering, my gut a loose tangle of nerves, I found some spare clothes and managed to button up a shirt over my damp skin, swearing when my muscles burned and throbbed.

I sat on the edge of the bath and slumped forward, threading my fingers into my wet hair. I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't even sure if I'd ever be ready. I didn't belong here, or anywhere. Really, it was a miracle I'd stayed together as long as I had.

“Are you presentable?”

Samuel. I stiffened, wiped my face dry and glared at the closed door.

“Were you there?” I asked, hating the tremor in my voice.

“Yes,” he replied, voice muffled enough that I couldn't be sure of his tone.

“Nyx?”

“
No, and neither was Scaw. Kael asked only for those who were comfortable with his orders.”

His orders.
“Which were?”

The door creaked open. I didn't look up, but heard Samuel's shoes squeak on the wet floor. “To push you until you manifested something of your true nature.” He stopped to my right, close enough that I could see he wore black pants. “Or died,” he added.

“And you were
comfortable
with his orders?” I sneered, lifting my head to peer at him through wet bangs. He wore a plum colored V-neck shirt and looked entirely too normal. His amethyst eyes searched mine. There was nothing of the triumph I expected to see on his face. Pity, perhaps. They'd all look at me like that. Now they'd seen the worst of me.

“You're no use to us as just a construct. Constructs don't last,” he said. “We had to know if there's enough potential power within you for us to harness. For you to help us—help the fae.”

I pushed off the bath, clutching some pants and glared up at him. “Well, now you know.”

He glared right back, but his gaze held a hint of curiosity. “When you fought the general, had you not blacked out, you could have killed him.” A statement. A fact. Not a query.

I didn't reply. I could have killed the general, and the others in the room but, despite what Kael wanted, I didn't want to lose myself to that darkness.

Aware of the cool breeze around my legs, I broke eye contact and tugged the pants on. “You just gonna stand there and watch me?” At least the shivering had passed.

He
blinked, and the slightest of frowns tightened his proud fae features. “Constructs do not usually concern themselves with modesty.”

“This one does. And it's called privacy.” I combed my fingers through my hair, planted a hand on my hip and peered back at him.

Once again his eyes narrowed, as though I was a puzzle. One he hadn't yet figured out and wasn't sure if he wanted to. “You need draíocht,” he said, finally.

“No, I really don't.” I brushed by him and headed for the door.

“The sickness you're currently experiencing will only get worse. You'll weaken, and unless you replenish your draíocht, you'll fade away.” He waited for me to argue or deny it or even agree, but nothing he told me was new. I just wanted to go home, but didn't have a home to go to.

“Let me help you regain your strength,” he said.

I laughed and stopped with my hand on the door. “Why? So you can beat me some more?” When I faced him this time, he lifted his head. He didn't look sorry, but the fae never did. The day he looked sorry would be the day they'd stick me on a pedestal and crown me queen.

“As you are now”—he approached, his stride easy and loose, like he couldn't possibly be thinking of anything else besides concern for my well-being—“you're vulnerable in body and mind.”

Every instinct in my body told me to run, but I shut the fear away, buried it deep, and forced a wooden smile onto my lips.

Vulnerable? Not in spirit
, I thought.
One of the Three.
I'd felt the shift inside. The general had dismissed possession, but he was wrong. I'd witnessed the queen's memories, seen her save the general all those years ago, but they were just that: memories. What I felt, the shadows that shifted inside, the power spilling through
my
veins, that was something else entirely. “How can I do this? How can I take draíocht when I don't know what I'm doing? What if I hurt someone?”