She shrugged. “I don’t know, but we must have made it as far as the raven can take us.” She respectfully bowed her head to their guide. “Thank you so much for your assistance.”
Fordham likewise bowed, and then with another caw, they both snapped back into their bodies.
Kerrigan jolted into reality, feeling the full weight of her existence settle over her again. She felt heavy, like her limbs were made of lead. “Oof!”
Fordham cursed and dropped to one knee. “Well, that’s… something. Where are we?”
She looked around at the dip in the mountain pass. “There!” She pointed to an opening in the rock. “I think that must be the cave.”
“The raven actually took us here,” he said in amazement.
“You should go,” she encouraged. “You want to be one of the first five to make it through.”
Fordham was about to respond when they heard a battle cry behind them. They both whipped around to find Darrid standing on the high ground, holding up an axe. Where he’d gotten it and how he had made it to the cave system at the same time as them was a mystery. His threat was not. With no magic and no weapon, they were defenseless.
“Go!” Kerrigan cried. “He wants to stop you, not me.”
“Kerrigan.”
“Go!” She pushed him backward. “I’ll handle it.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“Don’t be an idiot. You taught me well enough. I’ll be fine.”
He searched her eyes for a lie.
She just laughed and pushed him again. “Get out of here.”
Fordham took off at a run toward the tunnel. Kerrigan turned back to face Darrid. He looked every inch the Herasi warrior as he charged toward her. She scanned the area for a weapon of some kind, but there was nothing to use, except small, pebble-sized rocks. Nothing sharp. Nothing that could go up against a Herasi battle ax.
“Darrid, stop!” she cried, stepping into a defensive position.
He just screamed at the top of his lungs. And at the moment that he brought the axe down to sever her neck, she pivoted out of his way. The axe barely grazed her shoulder. She cried out but had enough strength to slam her hand into his kidney and dash farther away from his weapon. He clutched his side, looking like he might vomit, but he was a soldier after all, and he knew enough not to collapse here.
“Please just stop.”
“I’ll never stop,” he snarled. “He doesn’t deserve to enter the Dragon Society.”
“Well, I think that’s already too late,” she said, edging closer to the mouth of the cave that Fordham had entered.
He yelled out another battle cry, held the axe aloft, and charged for her. Her eyes rounded in horror. There was nowhere to go. Nothing to do. If she stayed where she was, Darrid would kill her in cold blood.
With her last dash of desperation, Kerrigan turned and fled into the mouth of the cave with a raging Herasi warrior on her tail. As soon as she stepped through, something settled over her, holding her in place. Darrid vanished. The world disappeared. And she was dragged into a nightmare.
49
The Nightmare
Kerrigan stood from the floor, but it wasn’t a floor. It was a royal ballroom.
She had been to this place. A Bryonican flag hung from the ceiling in striking navy blue and gold. Her dress matched with the square-cut neckline and full sleeves that were in the current fashion. The bodice was tight and the skirt enormous. She even wore uncomfortable heeled shoes and heavy diamonds in her ears and around her neck. Her hair was piled high on top of her head. Not a loose curl in sight.
The ballroom was full of Bryonican Fae. So many that she couldn’t possibly recognize them all. But every one of them seemed to recognize her. They smiled and curtsied as she stood at the head of the room.
“Introducing Lord Ashby March, First of the House of Medallion.”
Kerrigan startled at the name that she hadn’t heard in twelve long years. Her stomach dropped as she realized what was to come next.
“And his betrothed, Lady Felicity Argon, First of the House of Cruse.”
A cheer rose up from those assembled in the ballroom. Kerrigan thought she was going to be sick. And it only got worse as March stepped up to her side and offered her his arm.
“My lady,” he said demurely, the gesture hiding his cruelty in public.
“March,” she whispered, stunned by his presence.
He had grown exceedingly handsome in the twelve years since she had last seen him. He had been an uncomfortably charming young man with enough baby good looks to get away with anything. But now, he was a man with sweeping broad shoulders and a face that any woman would swoon over. Still, she saw the boy who had learned at an early age to put bruises where no one would see them.
He grinned devilishly. “Shall we?”
“I…”
But he didn’t wait for her response. He’d never cared for a woman’s answer to anything. He tugged her close to his side, and they stepped down into the ballroom.
“Lady Felicity, I love that dress,” one woman said.
“Such the height of fashion,” a second added.
Another fluttered her eyes at March. “Hello, Ashby.”
He grinned at her but continued walking with Kerrigan close at his side. It felt like an interminable distance to reach the end of the room, where her father stood with a golden goblet in his hand. He actually looked the part of a prince and not the elusive party boy he was.
“My beautiful daughter, the day has finally come for you to marry Lord March,” Kivrin said proudly. “I have been waiting for this your entire young life. I know this is what you have always wanted.”
Always wanted? No, no, it wasn’t what she wanted. It had never been what she wanted. Why was everyone looking at her like this was normal? Did no one see her for who she truly was? She wasn’t Lady Felicity any longer. She was Kerrigan. She loved fighting and colorful, sleek party
