It wasn’t like I could really build a life anywhere. It wasn’t like I could interact with people for an extended amount of time safely. I’d killed so many guards in self-defense and half of it had been purely my magic. I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust myself. Mind you, they had been threatening me…but still. It took being around Chait and Maddox for almost nine months before I was comfortable touching them without worrying I would kill them.

  I wasn’t being dramatic either. I was pure Dark Fae, an heir from the Dark Fae king. Not only was I poisonous, my wings especially…but I had the ridiculous need to feed on the life and energy of others. It was a dangerous thing. I was worse than a succubus and no one really understood where these powers had come from since my father, nor my mother had them. Yet, somehow despite my inclination to be antisocial and introverted, possibly moving to an island or deserted realm to be at peace…I wanted to serve and show Queen Gray my devotion. My gratitude. Plus, as stated before, I needed others to survive. Literally, I needed to be around a large number of people. It was why I had been so weak when my asshole father had kept me locked in that dungeon.

  I know, I was poisonous and fed on other people's life forces. I was a fucking keeper.

  Removing my clothes, I tucked a piece of dark hair behind my ear and turned on the bathtub, the water filling slowly. I walked back into my room, locked the door and grabbed a cigarette that I’d been introduced to by several of the supernatural guardsmen. I didn’t smoke often but I had to admit it relaxed me. Apparently, smoking was terrible for humans but I hadn’t had issues with it so far. Sinking into the bathtub, I lit it on a small candle nearby and closed my eyes, inhaling.

  I would never not appreciate a warm bath. I had been stuck in a ragged nightgown for the past few years, dirty and disgusting. When I’d first taken a bath after being rescued I’d had to drain and refill the bath several times until I was clean. It was why I’d cut my hair short. That night I’d literally taken my hair, twisted it and cut it with a sword, so it laid around my shoulders. It was so relieving. I tilted my head back, blowing out smoke, as I thought back to nearly over a year ago when everything changed for me.

  December: One Year Ago

  The Year of My Liberation

  Screams of death reached my ears and the ashy taste of the Horde Queen’s magic met my tongue. I could feel the angry, searing energy from the sorceress upstairs, yet I saw nothing but the cold stone around me. Cold, wet stone that vibrated with the sick, sad energy of those that King Mario had drained, just like myself. Nothing says father-daughter bonding like draining my magic, right? Except, I simply re-energized, unlike the corpses scattered around the tomb-like cages that lined this dungeon. I inhaled as the cold damp air filtered through my senses and had me nearly letting out a ragged cough.

  I’d grown numb to the pain, but it was still there. It was bad enough right now that a cold, silver tear dropped down my cheek and slid onto the floor. The mercury-like texture spread out and then fell into the cracks of the flooring. If you could call it that. My skin was frozen like an ice cube and my wings were pinched behind me, painfully. I think I was becoming more stone than truly a woman.

  Still, pure unadulterated hope spiked through me. I was going to be free. Mario was going to die and I was going to be free. The Fae realm that I called home was changing and I could feel the ground shift dangerously, a new magic releasing itself in response to the true heir to the Horde. I had listened, solemnly, as her and the sorceress, goaded Mario for weeks on end and I was a bit jealous. Of their bond. Of the men they talked about that clearly loved them. Of their strength and clear solidarity as not only friends but sisters. I had no one except a soon to be dead father and half-brother. No home. Nothing.

  I was clearly a very optimistic person if you hadn’t caught on.

  “Pretty little bug,” a voice growled, causing my stomach to clench as bile rose in my throat. As a pureblood fae, a creature existed inside of me that was terribly dangerous and savage, waiting to exact its revenge. Despite my situation, literally trapped and cornered, I snarled aggressively. I wanted to kill them. The two large looming figures didn’t scare me, but they infuriated me. They couldn’t touch me, besides random kicks to the ribs. The smell of blood and body odor surrounded them making me curl back slightly.

  “Leave me alone,” I snapped with a growl. They couldn’t touch me, not enough to do actual damage - that was reserved for my father, clearly. Unless, they were going to die anyway… The monster inside of me inflated with hatred and disgust as it let out an internal frustrated scream at our treatment. You would have thought after all these years I would have given up. I had not. I was disappointed that I wouldn’t get to kill the piece of shit that was my father myself, but there were other people to kill. Other people who had hurt me.

  Both their eyes crawled over my exposed skin, a torn slip the only thing covering me. The iron shackles against my ankles and wrists held me against iron poles that had burned my back again and again. I couldn’t move from my position or even try to stand.

  “This is how I figure it,” one of them mused, his hair a greasy almost green color, “if I am going to die, I may as well die doing something I enjoy.”

  My wings fluttered against my skin, their beauty never scarred from the iron. When they weren’t in use, they wrapped around my ribs. Right now though, I was defensive so they were out and dangerous, despite them being pinched in this uncomfortable as hell position.

  One of the men lunged forward to grab my neck and immediately my magic wrapped around him, causing a strangled sound to come from his throat. Within a second, he dropped dead and I had a moment of surprise at just how my powers had grown despite captivity.

  When I had been living freely in the castle, up until three years ago I had been strong…but not like this. Now it felt like I had a well of power reserved behind me. I still couldn’t always work through something like gloves, but skin to skin, I was golden. That's why they got such a kick out of kicking me with their boots. I was glad my father had stopped them from doing anything sexual…I could handle a lot of things, but rape? Having my control literally ripped from me? Fuck. I wasn’t positive if I would ever recover from that.

  “I’ll fucking kill you,” I warned the other with a snarl and bared teeth, “Lay a hand on me and see if I’m lying.” I think somewhere along the way I had started losing sections of my humanity, or maybe I had never had it. Imprisonment brought out the most basic level in people and I was there. I was at rock-fucking-bottom.

  Fury pulsed across his face, but then suddenly, it didn’t matter. A pair of hands snapped the neck of the large man in front of me before the individual twisted it off and sprayed blood across my face. I let out, not that I’d ever admit to it, a tiny whimper at the blood-soaked man in front of me. He drew a hand across his face and smiled, picking up the head.

  I must have made a noise because his head snapped to me in surprise.

  “Oh, hey there,” he tilted his head, looking at my blood-soaked face, “sorry about that, little one, didn’t mean to spray all over you.”

  “All good,” I stated in an attempted dry tone, because I was still chained up. The man frowned and knelt, immediately I shook my head.

  “You can’t touch me, my skin is…” The man didn’t even let me finish before shouting for someone. A man with dark red hair appeared as he looked at me in surprise. They had to be around my age or slightly older and I could smell fire magic from the sorceress above all over them. I would bet they were hers.

  “Shit,” the other frowned, “can she not move?”

  I scowled at that. No shit. The blood-covered man spoke, “Chained up with iron, can’t touch her though.”

  The metal mage, whom I recognized him as now, spoke, “Don’t worry, we are going to get you out of here. My name is Grover and this is Blue.”

  I nodded without saying a word, I wasn’t sure what I’d say. I felt cautious but also thankful because I needed them off me. Now. They called for someone else and the blood-covered one, Blue, looked down at me. “What’s your name?”

  I inhaled and spoke the name my mother had given me right before my father killed her.

  “Maize.”

  Present Day

  I shook myself from the thought and a well of gratitude pulsed through me. How could I think of leaving the Horde when I owed Gray so much? I stood up from the tub as water dripped down my lean form. I wrapped myself in a towel and slowly brushed out my hair, trying to not focus on the scars on my body that I would never lose.

  In some ways I was proud of them. I’d survived.

  Part of me wanted to hide them.

  I was pretty confused about everything in my life quite honestly. The only thing keeping me in the Fae lands was my loyalty. It was no doubt one of my greatest flaws and would probably get me killed eventually.

  Because the truth was? I had nothing to lose.

  But I had everything to gain by being loyal to the realm that had saved my life.

  So if that was my purgatory, I’d serve it happily. I would keep my head down at the Red Masques Academy and try to not overthink the people around me. I would blend in and become unnoticeable. I would stuff down the urge to take charge and bury it because no one wanted to listen to a bastard heir from the fucking Dark Fae kingdom.

  I was still the enemy.

  Wasn’t that ironic? I was loyal and would die for a country that considered me an enemy.

  Shaking my head I lit another cigarette while grabbing some clothes for the day. Ah, well. I guess we would see how all of this played out.

  Chapter 2

  Maize

  If someone had told me a year ago that I would be wandering the halls of any castle, let alone the Horde’s, I wouldn’t have believed it. I examined the luxurious halls and breathed in the magic of the prospering land. I belonged here, far more than I had ever belonged in my father’s kingdom. I still didn’t belong, but it was something.

  It had yet to snow today, but outside the skies were overcast, and the winds were brisk. I had nothing to do but try to get some exercise in, so I’d worn a pair of leather pants and a jacket with boots, my hands twitching for a weapon. I was fantastic with a bloody sword, what else did you do when you were kept inside most of your life besides play with weapons? No? Just me? The only damper on my day was that it would be my last training session here. A damn shame considering they had such a fantastic setup.

  As I reached the training courtyard, I was instantly offered dirty looks. The men hated me. They didn’t even try to hide it and the frustration was building inside of me, making me want to lash out. To release my full strength of power. To make them break to their knees. Yet, I digressed because I didn’t want to put Queen Gray or the others that had become my friends in a bad position.

  I walked to where the practice weapons were kept and easily selected a bow and arrow. I craved to carve out my very own but I would need to take the time to find even the correct items for that. Time I didn’t have right now.

  Right, Maize. You are so busy. It was an odd feeling being freed from captivity, I mean, what the hell did I do now?

  “You look glum,” a familiar voice chimed as the Horde’s princess walked right over to me. I could see that her fathers were watching from nearby as they began to instruct sparring teams. The little girl in front of me, Luna, was not biologically related to any of them, but at nearly twelve you would only be able to tell by her hair and eyes. She mimicked Gray’s facial expressions nearly perfectly.

  She took a bow and arrow, following me as I moved toward a target range. I spoke, “Not glum, per se, just thoughtful. Thinking about going to the Red Masques academy.”

  I think people had found it odd that I’d treated Luna as an adult, but who was I to judge? The girl had confessed a lot within this past year, and I considered her someone I would protect. I’d never had any real siblings and I craved a family structure far more than I would like to admit. Sometimes I wondered what it would have been like to grow up with normal siblings and normal parents.

  “I like the Red Masques,” she chirped, bringing back the bow, “my aunt is part of it.” Yes, her aunt who looked far more like her mother than Gray did. It was the white-silver hair, I was convinced. Vegas, the Queen’s sister, was someone I didn’t know well but from what I could tell, she seemed to be a good person. It was a bit hard to be around her though, the lightness of what she was, a literal sorceress born of flames, countered the darkness which I’d been formed from. I’m not joking sometimes I felt like I had to squint around her.

  As I said, despite being Mario’s bastard, there was someone inside of me that came from neither of my parents. My mother was a chambermaid who he had impregnated and then killed moments after my birth. Whatever, it was…it was what made me poisonous. It was what made me be able to dissolve right into the air and reform. It was what made me the predator I was. It was why I had to feed off others for life and vitality. I shook my head trying to not dwell on all of the things that protected me while pushing away others.

  My entire life, I had been good at archery and as I drew back the bow, a large black butterfly caught my attention. I inhaled and let the arrow go. It hit center as I looked back at the board. Good to know I was still maintaining that skill set. Black butterflies followed me everywhere, their haunting wings like a death march and while it wasn’t terrible while in prison, it was now constant.

  I had no idea what it meant. I did know it was a god damn omen of death. But hell, if I hadn’t died before, I sure as fuck wasn’t going to die now.

  I sent five more arrows easily flying towards the center of the board. One after another. A smooth rhythmic pattern as Luna continued to hit center on her own, but at a slightly slower pace. The girl was going to be lethal the older she got.

  I couldn’t tell you how long I stood out there for, but eventually, the area cleared and it was just myself. Luna having headed out. I knew I’d see her again, I was only going to be across the city, but it was still difficult. My entire life people had kept a distance from me. Gray and her daughter were the first to treat me normally and now I was being thrust into some world I didn’t know.

  “You know,” a familiar voice chimed out, “it stops counting as center when the arrow hits the others and falls to the ground.”

  I put down the bow and turned to Laurena with a soft smile.

  The Horde was divided into four communities. There was the mage community, demonic community, and the naturalistic and mythical shifter communities. All four surrounded the castle within their own districts. Outside of that laid the Red Masques academy and larger houses and estates owned by the representatives like Laurena.

  The woman was a talented ink mage and she had tattooed two large creatures on my skin as protection runes about half a year ago. What she didn’t realize? Those creatures, through some side effects of her magic and mine, had the ability to turn into familiars, crawling off my skin and protecting me whenever I felt defensive. I suppose she wasn’t used to tattooing pureblood fae, there were none in the Horde. Instead, it was a land of diversity, something I craved after the Dark Fae.

  I looked at the board and smiled at the 50 something arrows. “I suppose you are right.”

  “Are you ready?” she asked, her eyes warm and soft in the dusk light. I knew that Gray’s men had family within each of the communities, but I had really only developed a somewhat decent relationship with Laurena.

  As mage representative, she was going to be transferring me to the Red Masques academy. At least, that was what I had to assume. I wish it had been Chait and Maddox but I couldn’t expect them to do everything with me. It wasn’t healthy to rely on them. To rely on anyone.

  Placing the bow and arrow down, the two of us walked toward the castle, the cold ground crunching under my feet. It was then that I realized, we weren’t even stopping in my room.

  “Your things have been transferred,” she stated quietly as if reading my mind. I understood why they were doing this. The SE had been outright hostile toward me and it wasn’t going to help anything to stay around. But what if I didn’t fit in at the Red Masques either? What if I was meant to be alone?

  The large castle was quiet as we exited through the gates, Taylor, one of Gray’s guards waiting for us. I offered him a head nod as he spoke, “Your things have been delivered and placed within the commander's quarters for now.”

  I nearly snorted at that. Good. More authority. Fun. At least I would be close to Chait and Maddox, that was a blessing if I had ever heard of one.

  “Thank you,” I nodded as Laurena offered me a hug. I turned to say goodbye to Taylor and the demon held out a large dark box.

  I raised a brow, “What is this?”

  He grinned, “From Gray, she said for you to open it on your way there.”

  I looked up at where the window to her tower was and nodded. Without another word I went into the carriage and sat down, the dark vehicle taking off immediately. I lifted my hand and whispered in the essentially dead Dark Fae language, summoning to create a ball of silver light that floated above me and illuminated the dark box that had a silver bow. I untied it with ease and lifted the cover.

  Well shit.

  Inside the dark box lay a handcrafted archery set. Along the upper and lower limb of the bow, carved butterflies in mid flutter met at the grip. The string made from pixie silk. The quiver, a masterpiece in leatherwork, had delicate butterflies etched into the thick material. A dozen arrows rested inside the quiver. I pulled one out to see the fletching in the signature colors of my magic: purples, pinks, and blues. The shaft and nock were obsidian while the arrow point was pure silver.

  I picked up the note she wrote in her familiar delicate script.

 

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