Thorns of Fae

by S L Mason

  I ask, "Can’t we do something to help Melody? She's entranced. Nobody should be able to control someone like that." My words sound naive. Even humans control each other, wielding whatever power they can find over each other.

  His reply is droll, "Her entrancement or lack thereof is not your concern. It will wear off.” He waves his hand in the air dismissively. What a pompous ass.

  "Does magic wear off?" My body wants to believe him, but my mind is screaming, run away. I don't think fairy magic wears off. Magic is until it's changed and then it isn't. Releasing a sigh, Deston replies, "Yes, yes, sometimes fairy magic wears off. In her case, it's not relevant one way or another. She's alive in her body, just simply not able to do anything." He never even looks back. Melody is part of his court and he just doesn't give a crap. I throw a glance over my shoulder at Janice following form.

  I raise an eyebrow at Janice, but he shakes his head and waves me off. How am I supposed to figure this out if he's not going to help me? I hadn’t paid attention to where we were going, my mind so locked on how I am going to help Melody.

  What the hell have I done? I finally come to my senses standing in the throne room. "Everyone leave." Deston waves his hand at the courtiers. Male and female alike bow and leave the audience chamber.

  CHAPTER 11

  Deston takes his seat, flourishing the tails of his jacket as he glides into his throne. Off to the side and on a lower step of the dais sits another chair, a smaller chair. The chair is covered in scrolled flowers and a seat the color of soft velvety buttercup petals.

  He waves me over to it, and I automatically approach, though every part of me resists sitting. It is below him. I’m not interested in being anyone’s servant. I don't care who they are.

  “Sit!” he whispers the command. My body pulls at me to move into the chair. My mind screams a resounding NO. My muscles strain to comply, and I fight to resist. Squeezing my eyes shut, I block out the vision of Deston’s smarmy face.

  Sweat forms over my lips, and heat rolls down my frame. The trembling of my muscles shakes my sword as my hand’s white-knuckle grip holds the haft. I open my eyes and finally see what is causing my malaise, magic wakes working to force my compliance.

  Pulling a shaky breath deep into my chest, I began to rumble. pulling the strands of magic this way and that till they disappear or fall to the ground inert.

  Releasing the breath I’d held, I allow my form to relax. The strain of fighting the spell lifts, and for the first time since the bubble I can breathe a truly free breath

  Now I need answers, but where to begin? With a free breath, I ask. “What did I do to Melody?” It comes out slow and deliberate.

  Deston’s hands wave the question away. “It doesn’t matter. Now sit.” A magic wake buffets me passing around my form. I didn’t meet his eyes—the spell can’t work without eye contact.

  I can’t back off now, so I continue, “You said we would explore my new ability, so what is it?” I pull air in through my nostrils and push it back out, allowing them to flare.

  He sighs. “Charisma. It’s rare and powerful along with being fun.” His tone tells me everything. He’s been using it on me for a while.

  It is how he’s able to keep me too muddled to speak out. It’s also how he was able to kiss me. My stomach churns with everything else he could have done.

  In the human world Charisma is just good looks and smooth talking. Here, I can change people's minds by smiling at them or speaking to them. I can control their emotions without touching them, turning them into playthings.

  Without missing a beat, I ask, “How does it work?” I hold my head high, but keep my eyes averted.

  “It’s different for each of us. Some need touch to reinforce their Charisma. Others can use a mere word. As you proved in the courtyard, even a muttered desire can be enough.” He laughs. “My brother needs only smile. Or the mention of a name can work the magic.” He is telling me he’s used them all on me. Bastard.

  My blood boils with hate. Janice is right, this creature can’t be allowed to control or influence a Queen. He’s a monster.

  “Is there any way to help Melody?” I inquire.

  Deston sighs in irritation. “Why does she matter? She’s a plaything, nothing more. Go practice on her. Try to remove the magic—it would be interesting to witness.” His callous words grate on me.

  I want to cut him in half with my blade. I want him to pay for making me kiss him. Saliva fills my mouth, and I have to swallow to keep it all back. The walls hum a warning.

  “Titom. Did you use it on him?” I demand.

  Deston heaves a sigh. “How boring you are. Of course I did. He hated you. He wanted to ‘take you out,’ as your kind say. I suggested it might be a good idea.” He leans on his elbow, cupping his chin.

  I spread my hand, stretching my fingers, then pull them together into a fist. I want to kill him. He knew I would kill Titom if he left me no way out.

  Deston brightens. “Why don't you sit? We can discuss all the ways Charisma can be used to your advantage. In the end, it may save your life.” I step around the chair, facing the front of the room. I keep my back to Deston, allowing me to survey to the room and at my leisure. Keeping his power over me at bay had become my first priority.

  I reply, “I wish to pace out my nervous energy.” I mount the steps, examining the walls behind the throne. With slow and measured steps, I keep my eyes away from any possible connection with Deston’s.

  I hum at the walls and watch the carving change minutely. I could win the walls.

  Deston offers, “Charisma is the magic of Queens. A true Queen has the ability to influence all of Fae at its core with Charisma.” Deston gives the information away without a purpose.

  “You’re not a queen, yet you have it. How is that possible?” I inquire. I didn’t want him to think I cared about his reply, but I did.

  Deston laughs. “I was given this power at birth; my queen blessed me with it as a favor to my mother.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Deston requests again, "Why don't you sit down, Sarah?" He steeples his fingers while his elbows sit on the armrests.

  “No,” My reply issues before I can think about it. My pulse quickens, and I wrestle with my breathing. Stay calm, you just started a fight. "I don't want to." My fingers play over the padded armrest. The silky velvet fabric pushes back at my intrusion. From the corner of my eye, I watch as he arches an eyebrow at me.

  He questions my choice. "Does the chair offend you? Should I have them bring a new chair?” Amusement laces his reply.

  I’m a toy, a distraction meant to amuse. "No, I don't need a new chair. The chair itself is nothing. It's an object. It’s what the chair represents that I find offensive." I breathe deeply through my nose, flaring my nostrils to hide my fear and to keep from biting my lips.

  He continues, "What's so offensive about showing a deference in status?"

  I gaze around the throne room. He wanted to talk to me, and he wanted me to show I am subservient to him. But he made everyone leave, so he wasn't sure I’d comply. He’s afraid. His aura wakes muddy uncertainty.

  I ask, "Can you create new magic, Deston?" Change the subject, distract him from his stupid plan.

  A dry laugh issues from between his perfect lips. "Magic is not new, nor old, it's your ability to access it. I can access magic." I could hear the lie in his voice. He’s such a liar, I want to stamp my feet.

  I don't know why I expect anything else. After everything I've learned about the UnSeelie court and the mere fact that they’re hiding what the hell this competition is all about, I guess I shouldn't expect anything less.

  "You're lying, I can hear every falsehood. It reeks from you, resembling rotten meat. Why do you lie to me? You say you’re my ally, you say you're here to help me, but when I ask you a question you can't even tell me the truth.” I rush ahead, as it’s too late to stop now. “I know Fae are natural liars, so you probably can't help yourself. It's truly sad. But yo
u even lie to your own allies." My fingers pick at the flowers on the chair, pulling petals one by one with each lie.

  In one motion, Deston pushes off from his throne, leaping up in the air at me. He takes two steps and catches himself. Oops, I hit a raw spot.

  The room reverberates before his voice. Wakes of magic move away from his chest to pound everything in its way. I’d never seen Deston use his full strength. The room quakes with his power.

  He retorts, "I do not have allies. I have vassals. You are my vassal. You are less than me. You are subservient to me. You are only here to serve me.” His words blast in my ears and his aura goes from the genteel red to a bright flaming fire.

  I avoid his eyes— that’s the key to his power over me. The moment I meet his eyes he will have me do as he wishes. There had to be some kind of key, something that would break it. My eyes dart around the room, looking everywhere but at Deston.

  I wasn’t afraid, I was angry. The wood withers into its cold, silvery, dying colors. The same cold in my heart. Is he changing the room, or am I?

  "At last you reveal yourself. Now I can see who you really are." I wave my finger at him, I still had my sword at my side, but truthfully, there was no way I would ever be able to best him. I wasn't strong enough… yet.

  "Who I really am? I never lied to you about who I am, Sarah. I told you, I am Lord Deston, one of the four princes. This is my domain." He holds his arms wide and pivots on one foot. It is all theatrics, he thinks he has me and can bend me to his will.

  Crossing my arms and keeping my eyes on the floor, I say, "It's all a game, isn’t it? All you want me to do is to say ‘Yes, I'll be your vassal. Yes, I'm subservient to you, Yes, you’re greater than me.’ ” I cock a hip. “That's not going to happen. The answer is, ‘No, I will not sit. No, I will not acknowledge you are greater than me.’ ” My words boom forth, rattling the windows and walls. Two can play at loud and powerful. “You wish to strike me down? Go for it. You will never rule through me. I don't care what you say or what kind of spell you put on me. And I know you've put a spell on me. I will not sit in that chair. I will not abdicate to you, a lesser Fae.” My nose curls up on one side. “You said so yourself, you’re a prince— one of four— you're not even unusual or special. There's four of you, so no I don't want to sit in your chair or play this game anymore, Deston.” I uncross my arms. “If you have another candidate in the wings that you think can win, I suggest you bring her on and put me out to pasture. I'm not fighting for you.” I paste a half smile over my scarred face and wait.

  The waking of the room freezes in place, and even the air ceases to move. He is in front of me in an instant, his forehead pressing down on mine. The heat from his eyes bore into me. I keep my gaze firmly planted on the floor. His contact usually creates a fluttering in my belly, but it didn't affect me in the least this time.

  “You liked it when I kissed you.” He gives a low, seductive laugh. “I saw the magic flowing from you, you wanted more,” he whispers, pressing his mouth to my good ear.

  I tilt my head back and huff. “You really are thick. If the world was flooded with piss and you owned the only tree, I wouldn't climb up in it with you. I’d rather wallow in a bath of warm piss for all time than be near you again.” His eyelashes tickle my cheek as he blinks at me, determined to ensnare me again with Charisma. Then, releasing a warm breath, he returns to his chair and reclines, lifting the back of his hand to his lips and allowing a half smile of amusement to play across them. Deston sighs. “You may change your mind in time.”

  Wow, I hate arrogant guys. "I will never sit beneath you, let's get that clear."

  He waves his hand away as if my words mean nothing to him.

  What an asshole. My eyes trail around the room, landing on a small platform behind Deston’s throne, just big enough to set a chair on. I snatch up my chair and set it on the platform, then plop down before he can say a word.

  "I will never be your equal and I will never be beneath you. Are we clear, Deston?" I sit straight as a board, arms to either side, eyes staring out the arched entry.

  He leaps up, stepping around his own throne, then leans down puts his face directly in my line of sight with both hands on either armrest. His breath on my face and his eyes searching to meet mine, as I dart this way and that. It is the chase of a predator and prey. Eyes glancing at his lips, sides of the room, down at his hands, sliding every which way.

  "Look at me, Sarah," he demands.

  I lock my eyes onto his ridiculous little shoes. They actually came to a point with a little curl at the end. They were green and soft, like something an elf would wear from a fairytale story.

  I calmly reply, "No, Deston I don't think I will. I like where I’m sitting right now. I like being in control of myself. I have a feeling I'm only gonna get stronger, so your little farce will only work for a little while. Just like your rule here, your reign, whatever you call it, eventually it too will have to answer to a higher power—me.” The muscles in my face work as I smirk. I let my eyes narrow and dart from side to side. The aching around my head grows. I want to reach up and scratch the ring of bumps forming there. But I can't flinch. Instead, I take my hands and steeple them across my body, allowing my fingers to tap each other, and I wait.

  He backs off, huffing irritation, followed by feet slamming against the parquet floor as he charges through the back archway.

  I lift my eyes from the floor, taking in the room. It is in full bloom and heavy with a flowery scent; his castle is happy.

  Well, I think I won that battle.

  CHAPTER 13

  "You should not have goaded him." Janice's voice reverberates around the room, sucking all the happiness I had right out of me.

  "Are you here to give me strategy shit now? ‘How I should play my hand better and Deston is a formidable enemy, and how I should watch my back?’ " I lean back on my makeshift throne, letting the tips of my fingers play across my lips.

  "You've revealed yourself to him, by Danu. Why didn't you just take out a sign that said I am your enemy and you must try and kill me?" Janice scratches the back of his neck, then and begins pacing the room.

  "So, is he lying to me about Charisma?" I demand. The guilt of Melody's behavior still weighs on me. I told her to jump to her death just because I didn't like her.

  "What he told you is true Charisma is extremely dangerous and those who have the ability to wield it render the weak helpless. Only the strong-willed can resist its magnetic pull. Why didn't you tell me there was something going on between you and Deston?"

  His look of concern is touching… or is it jealousy? Sitting forward, I lean my elbows on my kneecaps and let my head hang down for a minute before I look up at him.

  "I don't know, I was conflicted. I… when I looked at him I felt stuff I didn't understand." I held my hands up, shrugging my shoulders.

  "You felt conflicted about what?" he demands.

  Everything in my chest clenches. What am I supposed to say? Every time I look at you I feel the same thing as when I looked at Deston? I can't say that. "You know, I’m just confused. Is a girl not allowed to be confused?" I retort.

  Janice turns to survey the room. "This is not a good place to have this discussion. Let us go elsewhere." He turns on a heel to leave.

  I don't want to leave the room, I’m comfortable sitting where I am. As a matter of fact, my view isn't as good as it should be. Standing up, I grab my chair and kick the podium in front of Deston's ‘throne,’ and then plop back down.

  "Sarah, you’re playing a very dangerous game. We need to leave.”

  I wave my hand and give a whistle, causing all the windows and doors to seal themselves shut.

  "I think we can speak freely now. What do you think?”

  His slow, deliberate movements should have been my warning, but I’m not paying attention. I am having fun and it feels good.

  Janice slowly enunciates every word, saying, "You cannot flaunt your power in Deston’s castle this way.
I don't care what you think you've won. You haven't won yet, and right now all you're doing is flirting with further disaster. Open the doors, we need to leave." He waits at the main entrance, his back to me.

  I stand up and release a sigh. "Fine I’ll leave, though I don't care if I pissed him off,” I reply, blowing my bangs out of my face.

  "You wish to rule these people, Sarah? You cannot rule through stupidity. What you're doing right now is shortsighted. This is Deston’s domain. No matter what control you think you have over this room, you do not control his domain. This land agreed to be part of his territory long before you were ever born, thought of, or even a glimmer in your father's eye. This room likes you, that's it. You don't own the castle and you don't own the soil—it hasn't given you allegiance. It belongs to Deston. Deston rules, and the only way you can demand anything from it is either win it over or take it. Do you understand what that means?" he inquires calmly.

  Yeah, I understand what he meant. If I want to rule, I have to win. If I want to rule just this little square, I have to kill Deston. Like a petulant child, I stand up and huff for a minute, remove the chair from the pedestal, then set it back down on the step and leave. Defying someone in private is one thing, I shouldn't publicly humiliate them. I should have learned that lesson with Titom, but I didn't. I have already made it clear I’m his enemy. I don't have to embarrass him in front of all of his subjects.

  "You must release the doors. You're already stronger than I am, and I cannot make you," Janice quietly remarks.

  My eyes widen in shock as my mouth opens and closes a few times like a guppy fish. Waving my hand opens the doors, then I return the room to its previous state.