Page 55 of Prince of the Arena

Keldarion holds out his arm, and we all slow behind him.

“I d-didn’t mean to make such a sound,” one of the servants says, a middle-aged fae woman with a pink apron around her large hips. I recognize her from my visit to Spring last year.

“It’s alright, Marigold,” Ezryn says, his voice reverberating within his metal helm. “What happened?”

She clutches a hand to her chest. “I was bringing some fresh tea to the party and suddenly the doors blew wide open! And in swoops this m-monster!”

I look back to the mound of cloth on the floor. Strange vines—no, not vines, but briars—are tangled in the fabric. Blood pools beneath.

“That’s not a monster.” Keldarion advances. “It’s a man.”

“Kel, wait—” Ezryn says.

Keldarion kneels and grips the black cloth. Ezryn rushes forward. Dayton gives a shrug before he grabs my arm and tugs me behind him.

Carefully, Keldarion rolls the figure over, and the breath catches in my throat. I’m not sure what I was expecting…but it wasn’t him. A beautiful fae with long dark hair strewn across his brow and thickly lashed eyes. But how can I think of him as beautiful when he’s in such a state? Red blood lines his lips, and deep scratches mar his hands. He’s wearing nothing but rags. Even so…there is an unearthly quality about him.

Keldarion’s eyes blaze with blue fire. “Who are you?”

The fae reaches up a shaking hand before it falls from Kel’s silver circlet down to his jaw, leaving a bloody trail. “My name is Caspian,” he says. “I escaped the Below. I need your help.”