I curl my lip.
Who’s she to call my faerie glow a sparkle? I’d rather have skin that shimmers like the surface of a pond on a summer day than something so lifeless and dull as hers.
“I don’t want to cover my sparkle, as you call it. I quite like it, thank you very much, and like I said, I don’t need your help.”
“Then how are you planning to get there?”
I shrug, keeping my lips sealed. I’m not revealing any hint of my magic to these people. I don’t trust them—why should I?
She rolls her eyes. “You’re exhausting.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Look, I—” She stops, takes a deep breath, and then releases it slowly. Her body slumps as the tension in her clenched muscles melts away. When she meets my gaze, there’s a glimmer of sympathy and understanding in her own, a sight I’ve never seen in human eyes before. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t trust me, and I understand why. Cole explained where my magic came from, where all human magic comes from. He told me that our ancestors stole it, that they helped destroy the world and then conveniently rewrote history. I get why you hate me.”
No, I think, you don’t.
She has no idea. I hate all magical humans, but I hate her the most, because all I see when I look at her are all the things Aerewyn never got to become, all the dreams she never saw come true, all the years we’ve been kept apart. She’ll never understand what it was like to wake up surrounded in my sister’s magic, believing we’d finally been reunited after so long, only to find a stranger instead. A thief.
“But I didn’t know,” she keeps going, unaware of the apathy churning in my gut. I don’t really care how she justifies her ignorance in order to make herself feel better. I don’t want her apology. “I thought the magic was my birthright. I thought it belonged to my mother, and her mother before her, and her mother before her. I didn’t know that hundreds of years ago, someone in my family had stolen it from someone else, from the world itself. I thought it was a gift to my bloodline. And my sister doesn’t know either. She has the magic now. She’s alone and terrified and cursed. Be as mean as you want to me, but please, please, be gentle with her. She’s just a child. She doesn’t know any better.”
When she says the word sister, a memory stirs from the depths where I’ve shoved it—the face of a little toddler with gold-flecked eyes that shine with love.
I suffocate it.
I replace it with the image of a girl with bright red hair the color of roses and deep green eyes the color of fresh spring grass. The memory of her laugh brings goose bumps to my skin, sending a ripple down my shimmering arms. To save my sister, Omorose must lose hers. It’s a fact. For one to live, the other must die.
I’m willing to make that trade.
“Are we done here?” My voice is so cold I hardly recognize it. Omorose flinches as though my words have wounded her, and I stifle the hot twinge of guilt zapping my heart. What else can I do? What other choice do I have? I can’t give up on my sister. I can’t let her go. I’d rather lose my mind than lose my hope of seeing her again.
The priestesses would be disappointed. We were taught to treasure life. Our magic was always meant to be a source of good. It was a gift from the Mother to keep her world thriving. We were supposed to be saviors, guardians, protectors.
In the end, what did that peace get us?
Massacred.
I’d rather be a murderer than a martyr.
“We need a few more days to fake your travel documents,” she says, careful to keep her tone detached this time. “I know you don’t want our help, but you’ll be safer if you at least have the proper paperwork, which means my sister will be safer too. And I’ll bring some makeup in case you change your mind about blending in. It’s not the worst thing in the world to be cautious. You have no idea how advanced human technology is in this world, no idea what their machines can do.” She breaks off with a sigh, as though swallowing the lecture on her lips, and then stands. I’m a little disappointed by the aura of defeat hovering over her head like a thick rain cloud blocking out the sun. “I’ll be back soon with supplies.”
Then she leaves.
As soon as the tent flaps seal shut, I walk over to the back corner where a bowl of water rests on a small table. With my palms hovering above the glassy surface, I murmur the words for the scrying spell, so quietly I almost don’t hear them myself.
“Nachtinn eoscu ma mhoin.” Water, reveal my wish.
The old language rolls easily from my lips, but inside, despair casts a shadow over my heart. There’s so much I don’t know, so much I was never taught—a knowledge I fear my people have lost forever. But if I can save Aerewyn, maybe together, we can save our faerie kin too.
The water ripples, flashing with a rainbow sheen of colors as my magic takes hold. I bury the nostalgia, focusing on the task at hand instead of the monumental one ahead.
When I tried to imagine the face of the little girl I saw in Omorose’s memories, the scrying water didn’t work. The same thing has happened every time I’ve tried to spy on a human with stolen magic—something about their power affects my spell. So this time, I imagine the building I saw on the paper now folded in my pocket, forgetting my sister, forgetting Ella, and thinking only of that distant location. After a few moments of prodding, the scene comes into view—a bustling street, a looming brick palace, and a small sign beside the front door which reads, St. James’s Royal Home for Children.
The orphanage is real, and now, it’s within reach.
I don’t want to waste any more time.
I want to leave. I want to run. I want to fly.
Instead, I pull my fingers back and release the spell, then dip my hands below the surface of the water to cool the sudden rush. Much as it pains me to say, Omorose is right. I don’t understand the technology of this world, and I should take at least some of the help they’re offering. I’ve been hunted by humans before. The first time, it ended with my magic stolen and my consciousness slipping away. The second time, it ended with a sword to my gut, a near brush with death, and a flawed spell that destroyed an entire kingdom. There won’t be a third time.
I’ll play along with their plan as long as I have to.
Then, when they least suspect it, I’ll destroy them.
“Nymia?”
I recognize the deep voice of the shifter prince and pull my hands away from the water, waiting until the scrying spell has completely dissolved before calling out, “Come in.”
I’ve been using the water every day to study this strange land I’ll be traveling to, full of strange clothes, strange customs, and strange inventions I couldn’t even begin to explain. I’ve spied on the people inside the orphanage, following them down their halls and into various rooms. Thankfully, due to her magic, I haven’t been able to spy on Ella. The less I know about her, the easier it will be to end her life. I’ll do it swiftly, before I have time to second-guess.
“We have your travel documents and a few other supplies,” Cole says as he ducks through the tent flaps and steps inside. The shifter prince is hulking in such a small, confined place—a caged animal yearning to be free. I’m the last person he wants to be near, the last person he wants to help, yet for his human, he’ll do anything.
Odd how love can distort the mind.
“Thank you.” I take the bag he offers and place it on the bed before rummaging around inside. There’s some food, a change of clothes, and an envelope full of papers. I slide it out and take a look inside, sifting between the little blue booklets, green cards, and ink-covered pages.
“We have a passport and a travel visa for you,” Cole murmurs, using his height to peek over my shoulder. “And we also have a set for Ella. Since you never told us your last name, we used Bouchene, so you can pretend Ella is family. We thought cousins would be the best cover story, since you don’t look alike at all really. The documents have official government seals, so we don’t think anyone will inspect too closely.�
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He’s right. We don’t look alike at all. I’m blonde where she’s brunette. I’m blue-eyed, where hers are a golden-green. She has dark tan skin, where mine is a sun-kissed beige. I’m a faerie. She’s a human. We couldn’t be more different.
It doesn’t matter.
I’m not planning on making a return trip anyway.
“Is that all? Can I leave?” I fold the papers back inside the envelope and seal the bag.
“Omorose wants to give you one last thing before you go.”
I turn to the shifter prince with a brow raised as I rove my gaze pointedly around the otherwise empty tent. “And will she be joining us anytime soon?”
“She’s—” He stops himself with a sigh and then shakes his head, as though he’s thought better of it. A flash of disgust passes over his silvery eyes, but somehow I don’t think it’s pointed at his love, especially not as he lifts his gaze to me. “I’ll go get her.”
Then he turns to walk away.
“Wait.” The word spills out, almost surprising me.
The prince ignores it.
“Cole,” I try again.
He stops at the sound of his name, pausing in the middle of the doorway with the tent flaps half-opened. A cold breeze sweeps inside, bringing a shiver to my summer skin and ruffling my hair. The shifter prince doesn’t move except to turn his head a little to the side—enough for me to know I have his attention, not enough to meet his eyes.
“Cole, I— I’m sorry,” I tell him, watching the muscles in his jaw tick from clenching so hard. These words would never leave my mouth for a human, but that’s not what he is—that’s only half of him. The other half is a soul made of magic, beautiful in its wild ferociousness. I don’t want to be his enemy. His people were persecuted for their power, same as mine. We’re brethren in that, and once upon a time, we were allies too. “I wouldn’t change what I did, because I needed magic and there was no other way to get it, but I’m sorry I hurt you. And I’m sorry my spell went so awry. It was never supposed to take so long to complete. No one was supposed to die. It was never my intention to leave you so alone.”
With a sigh, I close my eyes. In that darkness, I see the downy gray irises of the excited little boy by my bedside—the one who leaned down to whisper in my ear, the one with so much enthusiasm, so much warmth, the one who thought I came bearing promises of adventure, not doom.
When I open my eyes, Cole’s head is twisted a little more and he meets my gaze across the distance. Age has changed him. It’s stolen the fat from his cheeks, and chiseled them instead. He’s taller, and so much stronger, but it’s his eyes where I see the greatest shift. They’re no longer soft with promise, but hardened by the life I forced upon him. Those gray irises are now brooding storm clouds, streaked with lightning bolts that flash between pain and anger as my words wash over him. The shifter prince doesn’t speak, but I know what his silence is saying. My apology can’t rewrite history. My apology can’t bring his parents back from the grave. My apology can’t undo his years of crushing loneliness.
He’s right.
So I let him cast his hatred at me, catching a glimpse of the magnificent beast sharing his skin, and hope he gets it out of his system. It’s not good to let such feelings fester—I should know. I’ve been living with a gut full of loathing for years.
He steps outside without a word, and I let him go. After all, I never expected his forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. I just wanted him to absorb the words and release his ire, so if a future ever comes where shifters and faeries can work together again, he won’t refuse. He won’t hate us all, only me, a punishment I accept for my crimes.
I doubt it’ll be the last one I receive.
By the time he returns with Omorose twenty minutes later, I’ve put my hard façade back on. As soon as she steps through the tent flaps, I grumble, “Finally, it’s about time.”
“My father woke up,” she murmurs, voice a mix of tender sadness and vulnerable elation. He’s been in a coma for weeks, which is why she’s sending me to save her sister instead of going herself. She made a promise not to leave him, especially while he’s ill.
I never had a father, not in the human sense, but I understand the sentiment. Faeries gestate in a floral womb, conceived by the Mother and Father, and we’re tested for magical affinities as soon as we’re born. Girls found to have potent magic are given to the priestesses, who honor the Mother and her fruitful sun, cultivating life, while boys are given to the priests, who honor the Father and his waning moon, facilitating death. The priestesses were my mothers and my fathers. They were the only parents I needed, and I feel their loss every day.
So I could sympathize with Omorose, if I wanted to—but I don’t, since the only reason my loved ones are all dead is that her ancestors killed them.
“Are you ready to do this or not?” I snap instead and fold my hands across my chest, guarding the shell around my heart so her words can’t pierce it. The less affected I am, the better. “Because like I said before, there are plenty of other things I could be doing besides helping you.”
“I’m ready,” she mutters through gritted teeth. “There’s just one more thing we need to do before we let you go.”
Let me go?
I arch my brow, holding back a snort. The fact that they think they can let me anything is laughable, but I keep my mouth shut. After all, they’re supposed to think I’m doing them a favor, and it’ll be so much easier for me if I keep it that way.
Cole snarls a little behind his human.
I don’t need his subtle warning to play nice.
“A blood oath,” Omorose finally says.
“A blood oath? Really?” This time, I do snort. But the sound is a lie—a ruse. Inside, my thoughts are screaming. I should’ve left when I had the chance. I never should’ve agreed to play nice. I don’t know how I’m going to get myself out of this one. “I already promised I’d find your sister and bring her back.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” Omorose cocks her hip, emboldened by the little turn of events. Can she tell that I’m on edge?
I force my heart to slow so I don’t give anything away. I’m in too deep now to turn back. My plan had been to kill Ella the second I laid eyes on her, but immortality does give me one advantage over these humans—time. If I need to bring the brat back here before I put a knife in her chest, so be it. I can be patient. I’ll have to find some way to frame it now so they won’t come after me. I’ll have to be subtler, maybe make it look like an accident—I’ll figure it out. Right now, I need to give them what they want. Omorose was right when she said these humans had more advanced technology than I could ever believe—and I don’t want them to turn it on me, not until I see my sister brought back to life.
So I roll up my sleeve and release a big sigh, as though I’m bored. “Let’s get it over with then. I can’t wait to leave this place, to go somewhere warm, somewhere I can feel the sun.”
That last part wasn’t a lie.
I miss having the warmth of the Mother shine down on me. Her embrace always makes me feel less alone.
“Cole?” Omorose says, turning toward her prince.
He pulls his cloak to the side and slides a knife from his belt. The edge of the blade flashes gold, catching the candlelight for a moment as Omorose takes the hilt. I swallow and try to ignore the ominous feeling scratching up my spine. I can’t do anything but stare as she slashes a cut into her palm, then offers me the knife. I hesitate, but what choice do I have? If I don’t take it, they’ll try to kill me. My promise to save Omorose’s sister is the only thing keeping the shifters from ripping me apart with bared claws. I see the vengeance in their eyes when they look at me—the prince, the guards by my door, the few I’ve seen during my brief moments outside this tent in the middle of the night. Even if I get away, what then? What if they tell their human friends with their guns and their computers? Would I be able to save my sister then?
I grab the knife and slice it acr
oss my palm.
Her blood is the deep red of an apple right before it turns sour. Mine is the creamy white of sap, glimmering with the gift of the Mother. The moment we fold our hands together and they touch, a magic bond snaps to life between us, buzzing with an undeniable charge. I’m not sure how this shifter prince and this human even know about faerie oaths, if they know how powerful this ancient magic is, but I do. I know that if I break whatever promise I’m about to make, I won’t just be killed, I’ll be unmade—not a flower on a forest floor to be reborn, but a cloud of dust to be carried away on the wind and never seen again.
“Do you swear to find my sister as soon as you can and to return her to me, unharmed, as quickly as you are able?” Omorose meets my eyes. Her own shine with the power she senses brimming to life between us, hinting at victory.
But this, now, between us? It’s just a battle in a much larger war, one I’ve been waging for centuries, one I don’t intend on losing. “I swear to find your sister as soon as I can and to return her here to you unharmed as quickly as I’m able.”
It’s done.
The magic shoots up my arm, pierces my heart, and spreads to the rest of my body until I’m encased in the words, enshrouded by them. An invisible tether stretches from her chest to mine, a glimmering current binding us together.
I shake free of her grip before she can think to ask anything else, before she realizes her mistake. Typical of a human to be so short-sighted. She should’ve asked for a lifetime promise—for me to never touch a hair on her sister’s head.
Chasing Midnight - A Cinderella Retelling (Once Upon a Curse Book 3) Page 4