Three days had passed since Keira had tried to kill the Prince.
Three long days.
Three days of shaking hands, of sudden gasps in the middle of the night, of imagining a thousand ways he might exact his vengeance.
She couldn't stop thinking about the weight of the knife in her hands, the sound of her own breath as she raised it, the way his eyes flare, not with surprise, but with something older. Wilder. Something that belonged to monsters in stories.
She hadn't seen him since then.
Not even a whisper of a summons. No punishment. No death sentence. No guards dragging her into the shadows. She should have been grateful. But it terrified her more.
What was he waiting for?
He should have killed her by now.
Or banished her.
She was pacing the edge of her bed, fists clenched, when a knock rattled the door. Before she could answer, it creaked open and Yvaine stepped inside.
"There you are," The Fae muttered, brushing back strands of hair from her sharp face. "You must come quickly. They are gathering all the humans in the Midnight Hall. Now."
Keira's breath caught. "Why?"
Yvaine shrugged, but the tightness in her mouth betrayed her worry. "I don't know. But prince Cael is involved. Which means it won't be good."
Keira nodded her head and walked out of the room, softly shutting the door. They didn't speak as they walked. The halls were colder than usual, and somehow also dryer.
When they reached the vast, arched doorway of the Midnight Hall, Keira hesitated.
Inside, the other humans were already lined up, Sera, trembling at the end, Micah with his jaw set, Renna clutching a charm around her neck. None of them looked at Keira. It was as if she had become a ghost they weren't brave enough to acknowledge.
Or they were just too engrossed in their fears.
Then Cael entered.
He didn't walk, not really. He sauntered like he owned the floor beneath him, golden hair catching the faelight, a long deep blue coat fluttering behind. He wore mischief like a crown and cruelty like a second skin.
He clapped once. "Well, look at all of you! Five days in the most glorious palace this side of the Veil and still no smiles. You mortals really are ungrateful."
The courtiers laughed, sharp and metallic, like bells made of bone.
Keira's eyes scanned the balconies above. The Fae had gathered to watch them.
Jewels gleamed. Whispers slithered like snakes.
And there he was again.
The one who never laughed.
He stood near the leftmost column, dressed in deep brown velvet with golden eyes hard as glass. His arms were folded. His gaze flicked to Keira, and away, fast, like her presence offended him. He leaned toward the masked Fae beside him, whispering something that made her spine prickle.
He was the only one that had kept a straight face the day they first came, and Keira wondered who he could be.
Cael's voice rang out again, his eyes twitching. "You've had your rest. Now, it's time for some fun."
Cael smiled. "You will be doing games! The traditional kind. Not the ones with riddles or poisoned wine. No, this one's more... physical."
The center of the hall began to shift.
Stone groaned. The marble floor cracked and sank, revealing a wide pit surrounded by high walls of glimmering black wood. The scent of moss and metal rose from the depths. Runes carved in ancient tongue glowed around the edge.
Cael's grin widened.
"We call it the Hunt Yard."
A door cracked open at the far end, causing a very loud noise.
Horses.
The monstrous things Keira had seen in the stables. Creatures with muscles rippling under soot-dark hides, hooves as large as plates, their eyes glowing faintly violet. One tossed its mane, and sparks burst from its tail.
Keira's blood turned to ice as she counted the horses. Eight.
"You will all be sent in groups. Or no maybe pairs since you're ten in number." Cael said lightly. "Your task? Survive. Just for a little while. No weapons, of course. And the rules? Let's say the horses make those."
Someone whimpered. Sera, likely.
Micah stepped forward, trembling. His voice wavered as he said, "But....but....we're not trained. We're not soldiers."
Cael tilted his head, a cruel smile dancing on his lips. "Neither are the horses."
Laughter rang above them.
Keira barely noticed. Her eyes were locked on the black horse at the center of the yard. It was massive, broader than a war beast, with a mane that looked like spilled ink and hooves that cracked the ground. Its teeth flashed white when it snorted.
It was Shadowmare. The same one from the stables.
Cael's voice dropped lower. "The court loves a good chase. Don't worry, if you die, at least you'll die interesting."
A Fae stepped forward to call the first names. Keira waited, tense, her name like fire in her blood.
"Keira," the Fae called.
"And Raden."
A murmur ran through the humans.
Raden, the tall boy with the scar slashed across one eye, stiffened beside her. He didn't look at her, just cracked his knuckles once and exhaled.
Cael's grin stretched like silk over a knife. "Ah, excellent. Our little would-be assassin has been assigned . And with such a charming partner, too."
Keira flinched.
The word assassin landed like a blade pressed against her throat, not sharp enough to bleed, but cold enough to warn. Around her, the Fae laughed, their voices like wind through broken glass.
But Cael's eyes… they sparkled with deliberate intent.
Did Prince Riven tell him?
Surely he must have. Or had the whole court known? Had they whispered about her, spun tales in the shadowed halls, turned her trembling hands into myth?
She had tried to kill the Crowned Thorn, and yet she still breathed.
A flicker of shame crawled up her spine, hot and wretched. But beneath it, something darker stirred, suspicion. If Prince Riven had told his brother, why?
To mock her?
To test her?
Or to remind everyone, especially her, who held the leash.
Cael's eyes glittered with mischief.
"You two will be the first to tame the beasts," he said. "However you can. Talk to them. Ride them. Bite them back, I don't care. Just don't die too quickly. It'll bore the court."
The Fae courtiers laughed again, high and cruel.
"Good luck!" Cael chimed, voice syrupy sweet.
Keira and Raden were pushed toward the edge of the arena. Inside, the air shimmered with enchantment, dry dust swirling like mist.
Keira's mouth felt dry. Her fingers flexed at her side.
Raden finally looked at her, his voice low and dry. "Are you any good with animals?"
She shook her head. "You?"
"Better with knives."
They stepped forward together, into the dust and the heat, as the gates slammed shut behind them, and the ground began to thunder.