Chapter 1
Year 1, 561 of the Human Era
Present
Scrape. Scraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaape.
Sirisha, known as Siri by most of the male population of their village, glared at her youngest sister from where she sat on her bed, pulling the woollen shawl closer about her slender shoulders. Nalini, lovely, beautiful Lina, was shivering at her side despite her cloak and woollen stockings.
The three of them spoke no words as the moon shone through their window, sitting on the mattresses covered by blankets that had once been good.
Scrape.
Siri would have yelled at Lavanya, defiant little Anya, who was sharpening her knife with a whetstone. Her precious knife, with the intricate little scribbles across the silver-tipped blade that would not dull with time. Runes to hurt the fae. Runes to kill; for no simple blade could ever hope to pierce their beautiful marble skin, no matter how skilled the wielder.
But as she put an arm around Lina she couldn't find it within herself to care about the soft sliding sound. It wasn't because she would begrudge Anya something that comforted her; no, she was not that good-hearted and she didn't try to deny it. It was because it meant she could direct her emotions at the little fool who sharpened her weapons.
Scrape.
Anything was a welcome distraction to the fae-cursed scraping. The click, click, click of claws across the flimsy window pain. Anything to ignore the weak whimpering sounds that were escaping from Lina's full mouth.
She could feel eyes on her, peering through the night and into their bedroom window. For what creature would not deign to prey upon three females alone, beyond the edge of the village where no one would hear their screams of agony? She could easily imagine the creatures that watched them with malicious intent, horrible creatures with hulking bodies and saliva dripping from gnashing teeth; waiting for their prey's moment of weakness before they attacked with eyes that glowed a devil's red, with fingers like talons deigning to tear through her soft flesh. Creatures cursed by the fae to live vicious half-lives, always seeking blood. Always seeking human flesh.
She fingered the uncut sapphire that hung at the base of her throat, a shudder running through her very soul.
"They can't get in you know," it was Anya's voice, grating against her nerves that broke through the sounds of the night. "Nuvian spelled the house to prevent any fae-creature from entering. There's no point worrying about it."
Oh, of course precious little Anya would pretend to be brave. But she did not doubt Nuvian's work…no she could not.
She curled her lip upwards in a snarl, almost something akin to the fae-cursed that could have been waiting outside their front door. Blocked from the beautiful, shimmering runes that Nuvian created. "Oh? And what did you pay him, dear little sister, for such a service?"
Anya blinked, the insipid little fool. She had not a thought in her head. "The fae-hunter requested only a bear-pelt to ward off the winters chill."
Siri laughed; a lovely sound, like bells. Of course she would say that. She would have bribed him with something more, using the stunning looks that were passed down from their mother. She would have batted those sooty eyelashes and twirled her auburn hair around her fingertips. She would have leant against his work bench provocatively, the swell of her hips easily visible by those tight leather breeches she wore.
And Nuvian would have laughed, taking pity on her. He would have performed the rune-spells over their house in an attempt to gain favour with their father. With her father.
Siri glared at Anya, who did nothing but turn her head and look out the dark window.
Scrape.