Fae Games

by Sofia Daniel

  “It’s Gazania,” said the prince of the Spring Court.

  Prince Caulden’s posture loosened. “What’s happened?”

  I peered out from the gap between his arm and his broad back. “What did Healer Tarax say?”

  Prince Bradwell’s posture deflated, and he stepped off the window ledge, retracting this black-and-cerise wings. “He fixed her broken bones, but there’s nothing he can do to restore the damage done to her magic. She’ll never bear children.”

  “What?” said Prince Caulden.

  Without a word, Prince Bradwell walked across the room, plonked himself in the middle of the sofa, and held his head in his hands. “Her magical pathways have been destroyed.”

  I stared down at the top of his head and asked, “From Lady Aster turning her into a spider?”

  Prince Caulden sat next to his brother and wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulder. “And Gala stamping on her altered form, I expect.”

  Prince Bradwell shook his head. “There’s more. When Healer Tarax restored her body, he found traces of dark magic along her lines of fate.”

  I slumped down on the sofa next to Prince Caulden. “This was definitive proof that those four resorted to dark means to become your fated mates.”

  “Everything about our association was a lie,” said Prince Bradwell, his voice hoarse.

  “Is Lady Gazania conscious?” I asked.

  “Awake enough to say that Gala took unicorns hearts to Hope Woods to create a circle of mushrooms powerful enough to reach the Otherworld. According to Gazania, Gala and Aster were the ones to summon the dark faeries and offer them Helenium’s magic in exchange for making them fated to us.”

  I rubbed my chin. “Not her or Lady Salix?”

  Prince Bradwell shook his head. “Nothing that any of those four say can be trusted.”

  Anxiety thrummed a frantic beat in my chest. At any moment, Prince Bradwell would put the facts together and out me as someone Elijah had sold multiple times to multiple faeries. Breathing hard, I stared down at my lap, waiting for the inevitable accusation.

  I couldn’t even feel much pity for Lady Gazania. She had no magic, but at least she was safe with the healer. Helen and Sicily were in Dubnos, defenseless and possibly dead.

  A pang of sadness struck at my heart. At this rate, with my worst secret dangling on the precipice of discovery, the chances of winning the wishbone were dwindling, as were my chances of saving them.

  “What are we going to do?” asked Prince Caulden. “They can’t get away with what they did to Helenium. She probably didn’t survive the Dark Fae Prison.”

  Prince Bradwell’s shoulders drooped. “Very few high faeries have second sight.”

  I straightened. “What about a seeing-hag?”

  The Spring prince shook his head. “They can’t always be trusted.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  He leaned across Prince Caulden and frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  When his accusing, amber eyes met mine, a jolt of fear shot through my insides. In a moment, he would call me a whore and explain everything to Prince Caulden. Prince Bradwell remained silent and raised his cerise brows, encouraging me to speak.

  I reached over to the low table and snatched a slice of golden apple from one of the plates. “Why can’t you trust hags? The ones I knew in Doolish were trustworthy. Are they any different from the hags in the mound?”

  The two princes exchanged glances. I lowered my gaze to my hands, wondering if this was some kind of silent faerie communication.

  “There’s no harm in trying,” said Prince Caulden.

  Prince Bradwell nodded. “We owe Helenium that much.”

  A breath of relief whooshed out from my lungs, and I bit into the apple slice, holding back the urge to mention that this new concern for Helen was a little too late. All that mattered now was that they were helping, and if a hag could show us the way to find those lost in Dubnos, I needed their help to pay her fees.

  Prince Caulden clicked his fingers, and the same pair of pixies from before flew in through the archway behind the bar. “Move this breakfast to a carriage. We have business in the Mound.”

  Moments later, the pixies carried the tray to the arched windows, where the same kind of white vehicle I had seen in Saltbay Port hovered in the air.

  Prince Caulden placed a hand on my back. “It’s time to leave.”

  “Are horses keeping the carriage up?” I asked.

  “They’re standing on a platform outside our windows, which is visible only when needed.”

  The three of us piled into the carriage, and instead of sitting in the middle, Prince Caulden positioned me on the cream, suede seat between his brother and himself.

  This carriage was larger than the one I had shared with Gladiolus. A table of the same velvety fabric as the seats protruded out from the opposite side with two green bottles on one side of the breakfast tray and four glasses on the other.

  “Where’s Rory?” Prince Bradwell sat so close, the heat of his body warmed my side.

  I sat stiffly in my seat, wondering when he would tell Caulden.

  “One of the guards manhandled Unity.” Prince Caulden wrapped an arm around my shoulder and brought me close to his side. “He went with the Duke of Medietas to track down the scoundrel.”

  “Hmmm,” said Prince Bradwell.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and palpitations reverberated across my chest. I glanced down at my trembling hands, breath hitching with every frantic heartbeat.

  There was no lurch of the carriage as the horses flew off the ledge, but my stomach lurched anyway from the nausea of having someone who could blurt out my terrible secret.

  “Prince Caulden,” I whispered.

  He pressed his lips on my temple. “I told you already to call me Caulden.”

  “Right.” My throat convulsed. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  “What is it?” His voice was so light and carefree, it made my chest hurt.

  I withdrew from his embrace. Sitting at his side was better than having him shove me aside once he learned what Elijah had caused me to become.

  Prince Bradwell already knew the story, but I couldn’t face either of them. Through trembling, shallow breaths, I spoke about my life in Doolish, about how Sicily and I had floundered when Mom had fallen ill with a wasting sickness, and Dad had disappeared, and how I had been ripe for a person like Elijah.

  Humans didn’t starve on the Isle of Fae. Those who worked the land were entitled to keep a small percentage of the crops they grew for their faerie landlords. The United Nations also supplemented the stables with daily shipments of food.

  Not starving didn’t mean thriving of any sort. It was hard to describe to two princes the bone-deep need for something beyond the drudgery of a bland life with no chance of advancement while those who weren’t human seemed to live with purpose.

  Prince Caulden slid his hand over mine. “You can tell me.”

  “About a month after we buried Mom, I sat at her grave, arranging some pebbles, and Elijah walked into the cemetery and asked me what I was doing.” A sad laugh huffed out of my throat. “Sicily and I couldn’t afford any kind of memorial, and I told him that.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he worked up at the academy, and they were always throwing things out. If I could let him set up solar panels and a television and DVD in my house, he would charge me a fixed rent.”

  “Why would he suggest doing a thing like that?” asked Prince Caulden.

  “It was an opportunity to make money. I could charge people to sit in our living room and watch shows from the outside world.”

  “I see.” Prince Caulden rubbed his chin.

  Anxiety rippled through my insides. Did he think less of me for accepting a proposition from a stranger? I had been young and naive back then, and if I had to be honest with myself, I still gave sweet-talking faeries the benefit of the doubt.

/>   “Would you continue with your account?” asked Price Bradwell. “It would help me understand how scoundrels like him operate.”

  I nodded. “It was all business at first. We lived in a two-room house, and as it was now just my sister and me, he helped us move our things into the back bedroom and to convert the front room into a spacious lounge.”

  Prince Caulden nodded.

  “His business idea worked,” I said. “It only took a day for us to earn enough money to cover his rental costs for the week.”

  “How did things turn intimate?” asked Prince Bradwell.

  My gaze darted to Prince Caulden’s whose expression blanked, and I squeezed my eyes shut and dipped my head. “After collecting the rent, he would stay for a cup of tea and a chat. Then he started bringing leftovers from the academy and staying to share them with us. He was always a hugger and gave me two kisses on the cheek, but one day he arrived before curfew with a bottle, and…”

  Prince Caulden’s posture sagged with relief. He grabbed my hand and placed a kiss on my knuckles. “There’s no harm in sharing kisses and a few drinks.”

  I parted my lips to tell him I hadn’t finished, but outside, everything went black. A set of lights glowed in the ceiling, blanching out Prince Caulden’s pale hair and complexion. The carriage continued moving, so I guessed we were traveling through a tunnel.

  “There’s more to this story, isn’t there?” said Prince Bradwell, his voice soft.

  “Yes,” I whispered, “But it’s hard for me to describe.” I turned to the Spring Court prince. “You know the rest.”

  “What?” Prince Caulden twisted around, his stoic features morphing into tightened lips and furrowed brows. But he wasn’t directing that look at me but at his brother.

  I stared into my lap, listening to Prince Bradwell repeat the Duke of Medietas’s investigation into Elijah’s illicit activities. Even though I’d wallowed in those facts throughout the day, it still hurt to hear them again.

  The carriage lights dimmed, and the carriage flew above a village of circular houses with wide, toadstool-shaped roofs.

  “That’s impossible,” said Prince Caulden.

  I reared back. “What?”

  He turned to me, determination hardening his gray eyes. “Remember that time the girls glamoured you into believing that Meadowhawks had come to your rescue?”

  I cringed at the memory. “Yes?”

  “Their purpose was to rob you of your maidenhead.”

  “My?” I shook my head. This had to be some kind of faerie term.

  It was Prince Bradwell who replied. “According to legend, only an untouched maiden may become a fated mate. Whatever curse turned you into a faerie also rebuilt your body. It’s untouched apart from whatever you might have done after you joined the academy.”

  I turned to Prince Caulden, who shrugged. “Rory mentioned that your maidenhead was intact and exceptionally pretty, so I have no cause to doubt his judgment.”

  Heat rose to my cheeks as I slid down the seat and squirmed. Then a memory struck me upside the head. “Helen and I rode horses to the Mound, and unicorns galloped alongside us.”

  “There you have it,” said Prince Caulden with a warm smile. “Unicorns are the ultimate judge of who is both pure in body and heart.”

  Not even Sicily would have described me in such terms. A surge of emotion hit the back of my sinuses, causing them to sting. I closed my eyes and filled my lungs with air until it gushed out in a huge exhale. Thoughts jumped through my head. Was I still the same person as before? Would Prince Caulden have wanted me if I hadn’t been a virgin?

  I wanted to ask, but a little voice in my head told me to count my blessings. Nothing could wipe out the betrayal or the horror of Elijah’s actions. The best way to heal was to continue living, continue having wonderful, loving experiences until Elijah faded from memory.

  “Unity?” Prince Caulden’s voice was soft and tinged with concern.

  “I… I just need a moment. Everything’s alright.”

  “Why don’t we start on the breakfast tray,” said Prince Bradwell.

  “Yes, let’s.”

  The tenseness in my shoulders eased, and my breathing slowed to its usual steady rhythm. Elijah was in prison. Even if they released him, he would never touch me again. And if I got the chance to rule one or all of the Courts alongside my princes, I’d make sure he suffered.

  My fingers twitched with the urge to track him down and pull off his gossamer wings, but I pushed it aside and focussed on the upcoming mission. Maybe one of the seeing hags might get a better reading of my destiny while she helped us search for signs of Helen and Sicily.

  When I opened my eyes, one of the princes had fixed a plate containing poached sunbird eggs on tiny slices of toast, avocado, and assorted pieces of raw fish wrapped around different fillings.

  “Eat,” said Prince Caulden. “It’s been a long, tiresome morning.”

  Because I was in the middle, and because Prince Caulden plied me with fruit and glasses of sparkling nectar of orange blossom, I didn’t get to see much of the surroundings except for the sky and a few distant mountaintops. I barely even felt the tingle of the wards against my skin as the carriage pulled us through the academy grounds. It made me wonder if that first, excruciating journey through them had rid me of anything human.

  The princes’ explanation of the curse having remade my body as fae kind of made sense, as that dying faerie had cursed me with his destiny before his silvery magic had invaded my chest.

  “We’ll be arriving soon.” Prince Caulden patted me on the knee. “Would you like anything else to eat or drink to keep up your strength?”

  Shaking my head, I patted my full stomach. “Are we going to the market on the top of the mound?”

  Prince Bradwell sipped from a flute of sweet-smelling nectar that sparkled and popped. “We’re entering the mound at a much lower level.”

  My mind drifted back to that awful drake, and I couldn’t help but picture a level filled with fire giants, smoke sprites, and skittering salamanders. “How low?”

  “We’ll start in the middle and work our way up,” said Prince Caulden.

  “Otherwise, he’ll melt,” said Prince Bradwell with a laugh.

  “Fine words coming from the prince of cherry blossoms.”

  That only made Prince Bradwell laugh harder. I sat back, enjoying the banter between the brothers. Back when I was growing up in Doolish, I had thought the royals to be cold and austere elites who were so removed from being human that they couldn’t show an ounce of compassion or have fun.

  I smiled at a joke Prince Bradwell made about Prince Caulden once sleeping on a block of ice to bring out his winter magic. It wasn’t like I was viewing them through rose-tinted glasses. They could be ruthless dicks, but it was a relief for once in my life to be the one sitting among the rich and famous instead of watching them from afar or on a DVD.

  The carriage made its gentle descent, and Prince Caulden pulled me onto his lap. “We’re entering from the Faith level, where the roads aren’t cushioned.” Nuzzling my neck, he wrapped his arms around my waist and gave me a gentle squeeze. “Brace yourself for a bit of a jolt.”

  I glanced at Prince Bradwell, wondering what on earth he thought of this display, but he just turned to me and smiled.

  Moments later, there was a loud clip-clop of horseshoes hitting cobblestones, and the carriage wheels landed on the road with a thud so gentle, the plates and glasses didn’t rattle.

  “That was surprisingly smooth,” I said.

  “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to get you back on my lap.” Prince Caulden peppered little butterfly kisses on my neck, sending tiny zings of sensation straight to my nipples.

  “Caulden.” I placed a hand on his broad chest and tried to slide off his lap. I didn’t mind getting down and dirty with Prince Rory in the carriage, but I barely knew Prince Bradwell.

  “Stop getting distracted, Cauld,” said the Spring prince with a smile
in his voice. “You’ll need all your faculties for the flesh market.”

  “Flesh market?” Apprehension rippled up my spine. I leaned forward and peered out of the window. On our right, a dense forest stretched down the mountain, and what I could only describe as giant anthills whizzed by on our left. “Should I be worried?”

  “Not if you stay close to us,” muttered Prince Caulden.

  I sat back in my seat, wondering what kinds of horrors I would see in a market that sold not meat, but flesh.

  After the carriage rounded a bend, it stopped. I peered out of the window to find a massive tree that had fallen across the road.

  “What’s that?” asked Prince Caulden pointed at the left window, where the door of a tiny cottage a few feet away from the road opened.

  A hunched old woman hobbled out with a black cat on her heels. As the carriage backed away to give the horses space to jump, the hag rushed to the side of our vehicle and knocked on the window with a gnarled finger.

  “What is she doing?” asked Prince Bradwell.

  Prince Caulden snapped a finger, and the window disappeared.

  The hag straightened to her full height and said, “Don’t bother with the flesh market, the person you want to speak with is me.”

  Chapter 15

  Despite there being a four-foot candle in the corner that looked like it consisted of earwax, the hag’s chamber was still dark. My nerve endings tightened, making my skin pucker into goosebumps. Maybe there were two types of hags. Those presentable enough to venture out of the mounds and not terrify humans, and… her.

  She hobbled to the far end of her room on uneven legs and where a pile of rotting wood precariously stacked in front of a moldy old armchair.

  “Be seated.” The hag gestured at the woodpile.

  “We would rather stand,” said Prince Bradwell.

  “Well, Master Prince-Of-The-Spring-Court.” The hag rocked forward on her heels. “You are in my dwelling, and as humble as it is, I am its mistress. If you want to remain, you, your Wintery brother, and the king-that-never-was need to sit!”

  I spun around, looking for a third male, and met the yellow eyes of a black cat with a diamond-shaped patch of white fur on its chest. Sitting on its haunches, the cat tilted its head to the side and yowled.