The entrance to the Underground from the library meant following a pathway down to the dungeon—I didn’t even realize the library had a dungeon—and it is rife with creepy crawlies. The library and the orbs are kind enough to light our way, but when you’re as paranoid as I, each screech of metal on metal and each pitter-patter and cry of the scurrying rats makes me jump.

“You’re jumpier than a rabbit on Rush,” Sir Robin says, poking me in the back—and making me jump.

I have a knife in my hand and have to laboriously re-sheathe it for the hundredth time. Those behind me, following because of my connection to the library, are grumbling about if I know the way. I do! It’s just not exactly straight because there is no way I’m taking them through the fairy’s homes and hideaways. Which means we’re going the long way around, which is tons of steps and bypasses most of the magical doorways.

From the drab grey walls and the rough-hewn steps, this place looks like a typical dungeon walk, were it not for the way the steps seem to descend—and keep descending, nearly as far as the eye can see.

And that’s when I smack my nose against rock.

I jump back, ramming into Hans and Robin, and put out my arms to both sides to keep them from going forward. I reach out, my brain telling me the steps keep going and going, but my hand tells me there’s something right before me—and my smarting nose quite agrees with my hand, thanks.

The rock warms beneath my touch, and the library sends humor through my brain. Great. Couldn’t ya have warned me? I whine.

The library has a hearty dose of amusement at my expense, and then the stairs seem to… heck, they almost grow larger, and then seem to split down the middle. I grow dizzy as they give way to darkness, and something screams in the echoing pitch dark blackness. The scream chills me to the bone and I'm unsure if it was Bamshee... or something else. But I know I do not want to meet it.

“You want us to go in there?” Sir Robin asks, looking skeptical.

“Xonier not touching a fight in Sixth.”

“It’s not the abyss, you guys. It’s just underground roadways built by the dwarves.”

Sir Robin and Xoner exchange a look. Xonier shrugs. They both turn to look at Hans.

He nods. “She’s right.”

I wish to puff out my cheeks like a child and stomp my foot. Really? You had to get confirmation from Hans? “Don’t you trust me?” I ask.

Robin stares at me. He leans close, taking his voice to a low alto. “The lad competing and kicking our arses at the trials is a girl, right? Think we oughta trust her?”

My cheeks grow slightly red in shame and embarrassment. “Later,” I hiss back.

Xonier crosses his arms, looking as if he ate the last sugar roll. “Xonier already knew,” he says, puffing his chest out in pride.

Sir Robin stares at him this time, a muscle in his brow twitching. “And you didn’t think to inform me?” he asks.

“Need to know basis,” he replies with a shrug of his huge shoulders, his grin still in place.

“Everyone know what their doing?” I ask, putting us back on task.

“Protect you at all costs or our heads will be on spikes,” Sir Robin says.

It’s my turn to stare at him. “Huh?”

“The prince is in love. He ain’t here when he wanted to be here, so either we protect you or it won’t matter if this world goes up in flame ‘cause we’ll be dead.”

My cheeks color, and I duck to hide them. “No, the mission is not to protect me. I can protect myself.”

“Righ-O. Then it’s just a matter of flushing these things out and killing ‘em,” Robin says, punching one fist into the other.

I look behind them, seeing the red-eyed man next to a green-eyed woman whose lips part and a forked tongue comes out to test the air. I gulp. I hope none of these guys try to stab me in the back. And I hope they’ll follow my lead.

I scoff. That last one is highly unlikely. I just hope we all make it out of here alive.

“We moving into battle anytime soon?” Red-Eyes—I heard someone call him Ash—steps forward, shoves between Robin and Xonier, and drips water from his bare feet.

“We have one chance at this. Let’s make it count,” I say, clenching my teeth and squeezing the handles of my blades to keep from stabbing someone.

And then I reach for Silver, through about a hundred of the oily, slick threads of those beneath the earth. As soon as my mind touches his, he gives me the signal.

My eyes pop open and a grin crosses my face. “Let’s go.”

The darkness is complete down here. But a Gifted has the ability to see in the dark, and she leads us. But she can only see for a quarter turn until her Curse strikes, so we need to move quickly. We link hands and she guides us, and I constantly scan with my Gift, whispering directions when we come to a fork.

We get closer and closer to where there are screams and shouts and the general clank of many agitated people. It takes a lot to trust the person in front of me, especially with both hands occupied holding the hands of those in front and behind. So I focus on my Gift, letting the light of the threads guide me and calm the raging storm of fears trying to crop up.

Someone trips behind us, a loud curse echoing down the passageway. A ripple goes through us, a moment of weak-kneed silence where adrenaline makes my fingers tingle and we hold a collective breath, seeing if we will be discovered.

I keep a tally on the threads… and feel momentary relief when they go the other direction.

"No harm no foul," Ash says, and I can hear the smug grin in his voice.

One last thread pauses at the tail-end of the strong of Bamshee and dark mages we've been avoiding.

I release a curse Momma would tan my hide for.

“They’re coming. Lights,” I say.

The orbs, slowly so as not to blind us, turn a soft orange-y red. Some are even blue and darker hues with emotions I don’t yet have a name for.

The threads mingle, and I try to get a finger on how many — “There are about thirty. Remember what we spoke of. Some can control wind and others fire—”

“Leave this to us, little one. We’re trained for things just like this,” Red-Eyes says. He steps in front of me, water dripping from his hands.

I sense a single thread, and debate letting it humiliate the guy… but I can’t risk losing him.

Heck.

I still, feeling the thread, closing my eyes, letting my Gift guide me… and there! I dart around Ash and shove my knife into thin air, feeling resistance as it parts both skin and muscle, and a creature pops into existence, its maw inches from Ash’s nose. He jumps back with a strangled yell, shooting a guiser through the thing’s already dead chest and nearly taking my hand with it. My knife is blasted from said hand.

I hiss out a breath, shaking out my stinging hand and hoping nothing is broken.

“You owe me a knife,” I seethe, glaring at the man.

His eyes are wide with both fear and uncertainty, his face paler than a snow dragon. His mouth flaps a few times, trying to speak, but only a keen emerges.

I get another knife, the twin to the black blade that’s now shattered with the gooey snd stinky remains of the invisible-creature, and bemoan its loss even as I prepare for the rest. I'll have to steal another from Arin.

“This your first battle?” I ask, nearly gently.

“No," his voice squeaks. He clears his throat. "I would have had that one, but your interference almost cost you your life.”

I glance back at him, the water practically oozing from his pores and making him glisten like some deva. He has a ball of water in his hands, little droplets pouring from it like rain. "Mhmm. Sure. Keep your head up and watch who you’re shooting at. And stay alive.”

“That’s it?” he says, his voice quavering just a little, betraying his nerves. He swallows loudly.

“We’re about to be in battle. The best way to learn is experience,” I reply.

He opens his mouth, but I’m already throwing a blade, and it sinks into the head of the first creature. Orbs bobble above the dark-skinned once-humans racing toward us like a tide of the darkest nightmares. One opens its mouth, a beam of pure light emerging.

Bamshee follow behind, their screeches and growls making my heart pound and my fingers tingle with adrenaline.

“Natasha!” I scream, ducking my head and hiding my eyes.

Faries form a five-sided star in front of me, and they throw up a shield just as the beam reaches us. The light drives into their shield with the sound of shattering glass amplified by a thousand.

I wince, but feel the relief of the fairies that the shield held while those behind me have a mixture of fear and determination rising within them. I raise my head, feeling heat emanating from the shield as the fairies struggle to hold it under a barrage. Those on the other side of the shield send a mixture of fire, rocks, weird shadows and light. It makes the other side look something like a cake mix thrown together with a rainbow and smashed by a rock monster’s—or toddler's—fists. Some liquids hiss and others slowly slide down to pool at the bottom.

And now it’s my turn.

“HOLD!” I shout when I feel the fairies falter. More come, giving them strength, but the deluge is overwhelming despite their combined power.

I wish I could lend them strength, but I’m gonna need all I can get for what’s coming. “Let the shield down, let them taste our power,” Ash says from right beside me.

“No,” I grunt, gathering a ball inside my soul and filling it to the brim with the most potent mixture of absolute terror and searing horror. Even the most dangerous creatures in the world feel fear, unless they are dead inside.

And these guys aren’t dead.

They are well and truly alive. And I hope to goodness this plan works.

I feed the ball my fears, my terrors. From the black wolf of my childhood who killed my grandmother to the terrifying creature who took my family, it gets everything. My fear of failure, of not measuring up. Everything that could go wrong. Losing my family, not finding hope for Jill, so many. So many that are now laid to rest in knowing that no matter what comes, I pray I do my best and let the rest lay where it belongs. In the King’s hands.

Oops. Layered a bit of hope in there, but too late now.

“Let us show them,” Ash says.

Xonier pushes him back. “Xonier going to tear your arm from your chest. Xonier dumb but he see with own two eyes she doing important voodoo.”

“You are far from dumb, Xonier,” I bite out through clenched teeth as I screw my eyes shut.

Xonier pats my back, making me grunt. “Xonier thanks you.”

The fairies cry out, one fluttering to the ground. I feel her slide into unconsciousness and my heart pangs, but she’ll be alright. Right now, it’s time to send these things packing.

The fear frays, releasing around the edges. Help, I beg, and my Gift responds, putting her hands around the fear and helping me hold it as I tie it off.

Hope this works.

My Gift humms her approval, her cheeky smile contagious. Gracious, she’s as devious as Ran.

I open my physical eyes, knowing my window for getting this right is going to be short. I can feel their threads… but they are so interconnected I’m unsure I can separate them out from everything else. And I can’t risk pushing this fear on my reluctant allies. They may use it as an excuse to kill me. Even if it would be entertaining.

I need a line of sight. With my hands full, it’s the only way I can direct the ball without catching other threads. I hope.

This is about the time I wish the old idiot king hadn’t stopped the mage school and I knew what the heck I was doing.

I’m drilling blind and hoping to strike gold and not a volcanic river.

“I need a line of sight,” I whisper.

“Ash, Sobre, clear her a path,” Generald Verand barks, calm and collected despite the tightness in his voice.

“Shield down in three, two, one,” I say, timing it when the volleys have lessened until they are nearly null.

Ash steps in front of me right as the shield drops. Xonier and Robin are right beside me as fire streams through, but Ash sends a guiser of water, throwing most of the rocks and odd things off course and extinguishing the fire with a hiss.

The problem is steam fills the area and I still can’t see!

Then a breeze tugs at the edges of my cloak and whips against my arms as it builds into a sharp wind.

Sobre’s eyes glow and her bright amber hair stands on end as the wind whips away the last of the fog, leaving a calm before the storm.

As soon as the fog clears, I strain to see, and find the creatures waving fog from their faces.

And…. and… there!

I scream, releasing the ball of flame and shoving it forward as if I can direct it with physical hands. And something odd happens. A gentle purple glow encases my hands before zinging forward in a zig-zag motion kinda like lightning. Others can’t see why, but I do, and it’s a struggle to keep the light on task. The light is zig-zagging to different life threads, trying to connect and I’m straining to keep them on target. It’s almost as bad as trying to tag a rabbit with a knife.

When it reaches the first creature, it dives into her thread like a parasite seeking a host. The creature’s eyes go wide and her maw opens in a voiceless cry.

She attacks those around her, sinking her teeth into their necks and scratching with her abnormally long fingernails and multi-jointed fingers. She turns and fights her way past the others, and they watch her with something resembling puzzlement. That’s when the rest of my fear bomb hits the dark mages, and they have odd reactions. A few turn to look at me through glowing eyes coated in a dose of fear before they turn and run. It's as if they know it's me but cannot fight the primal urges of the fear beating against them.

Others open their mouths in a voiceless cry before going into a frenzy and biting and clawing anything, even the walls.

I sink down to my knees, breathing out deeply.

General Verand crouches in front of me, his eyes showing something I didn’t expect. Fear.

“What, exactly, are you? And how did I not know of you?”

I shrug, sucking in breath after breath and trying not to let the cold sink too deeply just yet. My job isn’t done. “Don’t know. Don’t really care.”

He stares at me, meeting my eyes with something I can’t define. I go to stand and both Xonier and Robin help me up.

Ash has a cheeky grin that I want to wipe from from his face with a well-placed blade.

“And that’s how it’s done, little one,” he says, puffing out his chest, as if he is the reason the thing's ran screaming.

The woman beside him, the one who controlled the wind and has green eyes, elbows him in the ribs. “Don’t anger her,” she hisses.

“What? We sent them packing! They were so scared they couldn’t contain themselves. We’re so good.”

The green-eyed woman smacks her forehead. “You are an idiot.”

Ash’s brows come together on his forehead, squeezing a droplet of water from his forehead. “What? What’d I miss?”

The woman walks off with a shake of her head, and Ash stands there looking quite lost and seeming younger than I first thought. I thought he was near my age… but with how he acts, he may be a lot younger. At least... I sure daggum hope he's younger.

I catch General Verand watching them with a fond smile. He wipes it away when he sees me looking. “You care,” I say, almost surprised... and yet not. I wasn't kidding when I said he reminded me of Father.

“Thanks,” he says, wryly.

“I’m not sure I meant that as a compliment.” I smile, letting it catch my eyes so he can see it beneath the cowl.

He smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners and making him look older. He gives me a nod more respectful than most nobles bowing before a king. “You’re alright, kid. Shall we?” He gestures in the direction of the rampaging creatures and I nod.

“Pack up! It’s time to flush out some vermin,” he orders.