Traps, Tricks, and Beasts [Book 2 Complete][Fantasy, Adventure, Underdog]

Colors burst back into life and Squirt took as silent of a breath as she could.

Zhadin had dropped her behind a tent in a section of the city set aside for travelers. With Everwinter’s population explosion, they didn’t have the resources to guarantee travelers more than a space within the walls to set up their tents. These fey were a mix—some were traveling merchants with their guards, stopping by for a week during the festivals to trade and stock up on supplies before they did the last circuit through the villages of the year. Others were mercenaries hoping to make some money, having escorted fey here who wanted to live in Everwinter, and were waiting to offer their services to those who wanted to leave. Still others were groups of dungeoneers hoping to explore the recently discovered dungeons.

The uniting fact about all these groups was simply that they were seasonal. They would leave in the next few weeks long before winter started and thus didn’t get actual homes. Instead, they got a small slice of an open area meant for temporary housing within the protective walls. Housing, of course, provided by those visiting—meaning a tent city.

Hearing a commotion, she crept to the edge of the tent and peered around the corner.

There was Qzi, covered in blood and laid out on the ground, panting desperately. Wounds littered his body, a combination of cuts sluggishly bleeding and bruises from a beating. His right eye was swollen shut, his lips split, and still crawling forward with determination in his eyes.

Squirt slid her eyes over to two other redcaps, one standing over the bleeding Qzi with a sadistic grin on his face. Narrowing her eyes, Squirt scanned the crowd and realized there were actually several redcaps, not two, if she was getting her fey right. But oddly, most looked subservient. Weaker. Some had cuts that had only just stopped bleeding, waiting on their knees with their eyes dropped to the ground.

Oddest of all, their caps were missing.

They had all the right features—sharp, pointed teeth, bloodred eyes, pointed ears, and a flush of life to the skin that vampires lacked. There was a paleness to it, an anemic paleness, but not grayness.

The two that stood out were the only two with their titular caps atop their head. One was sitting on the back of another redcap that was forced to all fours, acting as a stool for her, a defeated and hopeless expression to their eyes.

Ignoring the others, it was clear there were two main perpetrators. In this area filled with tents, other fey were giving them a wide berth. The one seated was a female, wearing what might pass for clothing—strips of cloth to tie up her modest chest and a pair of bottoms Squirt was pretty certain weren’t even long enough to cover the curve of her ass. The other was a masculine specimen, his muscular chest covered by a leather vest, his trousers rolled up to the knees. At first, Squirt thought he had a collection of pinks scarves on his hip, until she realized what they really were.

It was a metal ring through which he had pierced and hung a series of redcap hats. She had never seen the caps look so pale. Based on the blackened stain down the side of his pants, they were all slowly bleeding.

An easy way to kill a redcap was to destroy their cap. It was why a redcap proposal was to offer their cap, as it was quite literally entrusting their life to someone.

Squirt had her suspicions for a while about Qzi. For all of his bravado, he was too used to rejection. Too eager to please. And now, seeing him amongst other redcaps, something she noticed and then dismissed when they first met became glaringly obvious—namely, he was small. Shorter than all the others. Thinner, too. And even taking into account how much they had weakened him already, he had nothing on the sheer amount of power radiating from the two ringleaders.

She stepped back and turned to Zhadin with a frown, considering them. How powerful the fell was. In a bare whisper, she asked, “You can’t just kill them?”

Their expression turned to a pout, and they leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “They belong to the Wyveln Family, one of the leaders of the Queen’s opposition. I can kill them if you wish.”

Squirt scowled harder. Damnit all. Titled fey politics. She wanted nothing more than to barge out there and stab away, but first, she was absolutely no match for either redcap, and second, if she was implicated in a murder trial—something that some Families would do to maintain their reputation and the safety of their members—she was sunk. With them being the Queen’s opposition, not even her royal highness would be able to keep Squirt from the Family’s judgement. Third, even if she somehow survived the trial, she had no idea what effect that would have on the politics of the greater country. It was possible that it could start a full civil war amongst the titled fey, and frankly, one civil war amongst her own people was more than enough.

She chewed on her thumb. This left her with few options. Likely, Lord Everwinter’s hands would be just as tied as Zhadin’s. They were redcaps, so she couldn’t just negotiate with them like a normal fey. She could call on Pakos to chomp their faces off, but then that ran the risk of getting back to Lord Everwinter, as the hound obviously belonged to the Great Athereon, and technically, she had no cause to attack them. Fey loved violence. Reveled in it. Their acts against Qzi weren’t illegal. Meaning logistically—since Pakos would be known to serve Athereon, who served Everwinter—it would be seen as an attack from Lord Everwinter on the Family itself.

Frankly, it was probably why they were here. Blatant spies since any official move against them would be against their Family. Wars had been waged for less.

If she could steal the caps, that would work, but without knowing which one was Qzi’s, she’d steal them all and there was no clean way to get away. The key to theft was to steal things that the fey wouldn’t necessarily miss or be able to find—coin, jewelry that could be melted down or remade into a new form to keep the original owner from recognizing it, food from the back of the pantry—none of which lined up with the caps. She could probably get away with it for all of ten minutes, if that. None of her stealth skills mattered when the powerful fey were looking for her.

Besides… glancing up at Zhadin’s slightly-too-large eyes, she scowled, knowing that if she was caught in that scenario, Zhadin would rip them apart, and they’d be back to the problem of titled fey being more trouble than they were worth.

She huffed, her expression flattening. There was one thing she could do that would potentially solve these issues… only it was a major risk in an entirely different way. Unlike the rest of the solutions, the only one she risked was herself. And maybe a bit of Lord Everwinter’s pride.

There was a grunt from the other side of the tent, and Squirt peered around the edge. The male had stomped on Qzi’s back. He grinned back at the female. “He’s gotten so mouthy.”

The female smiled, the expression wild and filled with more malice than any shadowfell. “All the better to break him.”

It was too much like her own nightmares. It didn’t matter that they were bigger and stronger than her. It didn’t matter that he was irritating in his persistence. It didn’t matter that he—being a redcap with blood magic—had a much better healing factor than any regular fey.

Squirt reached into her bag, taking the time to string her bows before stowing them back away, gritting her teeth against the muffled grunts of pain from Qzi. Forcing herself to prepare and not just leap in.

Turning to Zhadin, she glared. “If this goes wrong, grab me and run.”

They nodded solemnly, and not for the first time, she noted how they deferred to her. She’d noticed before, but this time made it glaringly obvious—they probably could have solved this issue themselves, consequences be damned. Instead, they let her make all the decisions.

Scowling at the realization, she stood, and before she could lose her nerve she marched around the tent, drawing the curious eyes of all the redcaps. She teetered for just a second, terrified by their overwhelming power, before gritting her teeth and glaring at the male with the ring of caps on his hip.

Pointing to him, she stated loudly, “I challenge you.”

Curiosity was traded for amusement for both of the leaders, the male throwing his head back and laughing boisterously, the woman grinning hungrily, violence in her eyes. Qzi, if it were possible, paled further with fear.

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Squirt ignored him.

The male calmed himself, grinning down at her. “Brave little thing, aren’t you? I’ve always wanted a pet, but I can’t say greenling tastes any good.”

She swallowed her fear, glaring up at him in challenge. Redcaps respected strength, courage, and fighting prowess. She couldn’t let him see her terror.

Instead, she imagined the Sia-bitch’s head on his body, bringing all her bottled-up hatred and rage to the forefront. “Scared?” she spit out.

The redcap quickstepped. In a blink, he was holding a finger under her chin, his other fingers barely touching her throat in the lightest threat, his grin chilling in its malice. “Never.”

“Then accept the challenge.”

His grin turned curious without losing any of the malice. “And what, pray tell, would a greenling want from a redcap?”

She straightened, looking him dead in the eye. “His lordship has a redcap kink. I want your collection of caps to earn myself a gods damned retirement.”

He burst out laughing again. “The great prince! A redcap fiend! Gods, Marm, can you believe that?”

The female’s gaze had gone chilly. Her eyes were focused not on Squirt, but on the fear in Qzi’s face. Her smirk widened. “Go on then, play with the little pixie. Make her bleed.”

The male turned back to Squirt, towering over her as he straightened, his fists on his hips. Several of the redcaps winced as the position had his fist pressing into their caps, squeezing more blood from their pale cloth. “Alright, little toy. I’ll bite. When I win, you’re going to serve me and take me to this Athereon. Got it?”

The irony. “And when I win, I get all of your caps.”

His grin turned feral. “Absolutely.”

They drew a crowd of observers, others from this collection of tents. It was too tightly packed, too densely populated here.

Squirt turned. “Come then. There’s not enough room here for me to whoop your ass.”

As she suspected, this only amused the fey more, and he burst into another boisterous laugh as she trotted away. He followed, but he was not alone—indeed, not just the redcaps, but everyone was now following the tiny greenling through the streets to the gates. Squirt scowled but kept moving as the crowd got larger, and when she passed a member of the Guard, they paled and took off running for the keep. Another growled at the male redcap as she tried to step forward, and Squirt glared to get the woman to back the fuck off.

Gods damn it. This place was too fucking crowded.

She made it out of the walls, the crowd now tripled in size and quickly growing. The new faces she didn’t recognize were laughing and joking, clearly thinking this was a fun bit of midday revelry, and at least one was loudly saying that the lord had great humor to put on such a show for their amusements.

The privilege oozing from that one made Squirt’s blood boil. There were enslaved fey beaten and bloodied and forced to walk the distance alongside them, and all they could think of was the entertainment value.

Once they were in an open space away from the fields, Squirt turned back on the redcap, doing her best to not let on how her knees were shaking. Instead, she clenched her trembling hands into fists, lifting her chin proudly. The crowd spread out to watch, and she spotted several members of the Guard interspersed amongst them, quietly shifting the crowd to give them more space and taking up positions around the ring. Two stepped forward, holding their hands out to ask for quiet. One turned to the redcap. “This is an official duel, then?”

The fey grinned maliciously. “It is.”

“The terms?”

Squirt took the opportunity to tie a handkerchief around her face, pulling out her goggles and putting them over her eyes.

He chuckled, though the sound was anything but friendly. “To knockout, death, or yield, like any good redcap fight. Anything goes.” He tapped his hip. “These are the prize she’s aiming for—every one of them. When she loses, she gets to be my plaything and will swear her life to me.”

Squirt swallowed. Gods. Never again. Never, ever again.

Her eyes flickered to Qzi’s broken body, having enduring being dragged here by the female redcap, and her resolve solidified.

Need assistance, mother dearest?

She moved into fighting stance, one hand on the back of her hip, looking like it was hovering over her dagger and not her pouch. Probably. We’ll see how the bomb goes.

I’d definitely rather not clean that out of my fur.

She almost rolled her eyes when some of the crowd started jeering about not being able to see, and several stepped forward. Suddenly the ground under her feet shifted, a ring for their battle lowering in the dirt. Glancing up, she could see them making tiered seating to see better, other fey joining in to make an impromptu mini coliseum, laughing, joking, trading bets back and forth on how quickly she’d die.

Well. Some of them. More than a few looked terrified for her. Others looked ready to jump in, held back by the Guard defending the legal dueling space. Even the Guard looked ready to interrupt the moment things went wrong, casting her worried glances even as they stood their ground.

Oddly endearing, that.

She focused back on her opponent instead of on the crowd.

The two Guard members acting as their official witnesses leaned forward slightly, each one trying to catch her eye as they did. After a few beats of her nonengagement, they stepped back closer to the wall of this lowered fighting ring, one calling out, “We bear witness to this official duel. Competitors, your agreement?”

The redcap grinned, lowering himself into a stance that said he was not waiting for her to come to him. “Agreed.”

Squirt’s voice was somewhat muffled by the face covering. “Agreed.”

“Then… begin!”

In a burst of motion, he reached for her throat. One hand she used to put a dagger over where he was reaching, having guessed he’d go straight for it to crush her vocal cords and prevent her from forfeiting.

The other grabbed a blazing ant bomb.

Time slowed. His mouth hung open in a gleeful cackle. Squirt felt the divine pulse of the Hunt’s magic from the mark on her forehead. His palm slid neatly onto the knife, reaching anyway, clearly unperturbed by the wound. Her other hand moved, and with an easy toss, the bomb landed in his mouth.

There was a brief flash of surprise and confusion across his face, and she didn’t waste the opportunity, ripping her blade free of his hand and using the movement to throw his hand up and duck under his arm, rolling under him and between his legs. She didn’t stop her movement as her other hand reached for her short sword, this tiny moment of him being unguarded as the blazing bomb burst in his mouth, using it to her full advantage to slice along the inside of his thigh before leaping away. Some of the powder still got on her skin, and it burned enough to bring tears to her eyes.

And she was unwounded. He, on the other hand, now had two wounds.

Time sped back up, the limits of her divine magic reached. The crowd, cheering loudly at first, soon fell into a stunned silence as the redcap screamed. The powder burst over his skin and wounds, getting into his lungs, the agony of it visceral. His teeth fell out of his bloodied mouth, ruining his lips as the flesh itself was eaten away by the sheer concentration of powder.

Squirt waited on the edge, her body tense. She needed the powder to settle enough for her to get in close. Sheathing the dagger, she pulled out her short sword instead, counting down the seconds while she waited to behead him, if necessary.

Time ticked slowly by as the powder did its work, melting the flesh off his face and neck. With luck, he’d pass out, and her victory would be assured from there.

Alas, he didn’t.

Much like the Sia-bitch, he was a stubborn bastard.

The air changed. Her eyes wide, she reached into her pack, pulling out what looked like a rounded shield of bark, hiding herself behind it as his blood burst from his body, stabbing indiscriminately. The crowd screamed in terror and pain as they were hit as well, feeding his blood magic and making him stronger.

She gritted her teeth behind the shield. Gods damnit. She should have just risked the damn powder and beheaded him or used one of her last shadow whale-wolf tail arrows. Instead, the screams rattled in her subconscious, a mark of her failure to protect the innocent.

Fucker.

Time to go for broke.

Need help—

Not now, she snapped back at Pakos.

The blood swirled, about to go for another hit, and this time, she had the innate sense her shield would not be enough. Dropping it, she launched into a roll and grabbed out the smaller recurved bow, notching a shadow whale-wolf tail arrow as she did. His body was lifted by tendrils of blood, the sight of his ruined maw horrific in its violence, his eyes blinded and as ruined as his mouth. He turned his attention towards her.

She sucked in a breath, tamping down on her murderous rage as she rolled. Again, and again. Earth was smashed behind her as tendrils of blood snapped out, some at random, some tracking the barest hint of her murderous intentions. She kept moving, waiting for the right moment to shoot.

Not yet.

Not yet.

Too many seconds passed. There was no more divine energy to enhance her aim. If he was allowed to continue, he would grow more powerful than she could hope to best.

He would hit her. It was only a matter of time.

Making a choice, she stopped, turning on a dime and aiming, her foot sliding into place behind her. One of the tendrils of his blood magic stabbed through her shoulder just as she loosed the arrow. Her body slammed back against the dirt wall of the makeshift arena, the burn of his now toxic blood rending a scream from her lips, her body held aloft by the wound.

Everything stopped.

Then, suddenly, it rained toxic blood on everything.

Squirt was released, one hand immediately covering the wound, applying pressure to keep it from bleeding out even as it burned through her system. Blood drenched the grisly scene and coated her body in more of the toxin. Not enough to kill her, but enough to burn the skin and leave nasty welts.

Choking on air, she staggered to her feet, unsure of when she’d twisted her ankle. She limped forward, focused entirely on her prize and not really taking in the surroundings.

There was the fey’s body, his head separated at the neck. Reaching down, she grabbed the collection of caps, sincerely hoping that Qzi’s was in here. If she had the energy or brain power, she could have checked. Only, funnily enough, she couldn’t seem to get enough concentration to sense the magical signatures.

Clutching the caps to her chest, she teetered when the ground began to shake. Damnit, why did it have to do that again? Could it see that she was having trouble keeping upright—

She caught herself in her stumble, panting and weak but still standing, when she registered the female redcap standing before her, a dark look to her eyes.

Bleeding out and poisoned as she was, Squirt had no hope of touching her.

And yet, she glared defiantly, anyway.

The woman smirked before she purred out, “A battle worthy of any redcap, Athereon.”

Squirt didn’t give her an answer.

The woman didn’t wait for one. Without another word, she turned and disappeared into red mist.

Well fuck. There went her anonymity.

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