by S L Mason
I listen to Lavender expound on the various attributes of how clothing can be used to choke someone to death or trap them, and that hair actually can be turned into its own rope, then returned to its natural shape. She shows me how I can dismantle the buckles with a whistle and turn them around and restrain someone.
"So, what gives? You moved two vials, but you only blew one up why not the other?" I point at the innocuous-looking vial on the grounds.
She returns a shy smile. "Yes, I was wondering how long you would allow it to sit there before questioning its presence. Actually, that vial isn't anything more than poison."
I raise an eyebrow at her. "Poison, why is it in here?”
"Poison can be just as effective at killing your enemies. Especially if you get it down their throat. Many Fae take a deep breath and open their mouth wide before they sing a difficult spell. All you need to do is pull the stopper and dump it down their throat.” She finishes.
"Have you used this yourself?" I demand.
She shakes her head. "No, but I have seen other Fae do it. Before the old Queen vanished, there was a young and handsome Seelie prince the Queen favored. One of the UnSeelie princes was jealous of him. One day they went on a hunt, for at his heart the Seelie prince was a hunter. The jealous prince claimed to have seen a white stag and invited the Queen and her court to come along for the hunt. During the chase, the Seelie Prince killed the stag and died." Tears glisten in her eyes. She must have known the guy.
"Who was this handsome prince?” I inquire softly.
"He was my brother. He wasn't in love with the Queen. He had been in love with someone else, but she left him. She was a changeling, they can never choose one world over the other. They are always trapped between the two." She looks away and her shoulders shudder as she wanders into the bathroom.
"He was good?" I want to follow her, but I didn't want to intrude. The Fae run around half-clothed, but then you see them get emotional and they are truly naked.
"He was a prince of the Seelie court. He had beautiful jet-black hair like yours. At that time, I was Seelie too. But after he died I changed— I was angry." She offers up her defense too quickly.
Her sadness colors her aura. A deep gray moves out from her gripping me. She always seems so happy and light, as if most things don't bother her. It was all an act, however, another fake pretty Fae face hiding the dirty truth.
She misses her brother and is angry over it, so angry she switched courts, crazy. I whistle the broken glass vial away into the wall, and the wood absorbs its energy. Fae recycling is fascinating to watch. If only recycling on the surface was so easy.
"Lavender, do you want to talk about your brother?" I inquire
"I think about him a great deal, but it was long ago. He didn't even want to be the Queen's consort— the other Fae was jealous. The princes fight amongst themselves constantly," she muses.
"Which one of the princes killed him?” I hold my breath.
She meets my eyes and stills. "You can't guess?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow at me.
A gasp escapes my throat. How can she stay here and look at that man if he killed her brother? "Why are you here?” I demand.
"I told you a long time ago my services are expensive, and I was brought here for you. Originally, I was with Jacques the other UnSeelie prince. He loaned me out.” Lavender smiles it is grim.
“How can you stand to be near the man that killed your brother? Showing him polite respect while knowing what he did?” I wave my hand at the door as if it would make Deston appear.
“I am right where I need to be. I am on loan, by choice. Jacques could never make me come here if I didn’t wish it. After all, you need me.” She glances down, then gazes up at me through her bangs. She changes her hair color from green to blue in the blink of an eye, batting her matching blue lashes.
There was more to Lavender, and for the first time, I got the feeling she was hiding something. She presses her lips into a straight line and busies herself as far from the door as possible.
CHAPTER 16
No one came, not Janice, not the human boy, no one. No matter how many times I try to create a new door or entrance so we can leave, the walls won't budge. Had I caused his death or Arty’s? It ate at me.
I stare at the window, pulling the vibrations from my chest and pushing the magic wake out to the crystalline glass. I watch as the panes rattled and warp, but won't break. The only change is their shape. The haphazard, mismatched shapes are now all aligned orderly rectangles. They resembled my bedroom window at home, on the surface.
Lavender’s voice breaks through to me. “My lady, these walls were all built by Deston. I’m sure they like you, but they will never turn on their maker. Train, win, then you can strip Deston of all he has.” I turn away from the familiar-shaped glass and take in the state of my quarters.
“She’s right, these walls will never turn on their prince.”
I whirl around, and there leaning against the wall in black skin-tight leather pants missing a shirt stands Puca, bulging pecs and all.
“How did you get in?” I demand.
He chuckles and scratches the back of his head. “I am not constrained by the normal rules of Fae. I am neither ruled by a Queen or wild. I am a force unto myself.” He laughs.
I watch him strut across the room, fingering the various cloth laying around. His nostrils flare, and he smacks his lips together as if tasting the air.
Puca’s deep baritone rebounds off the walls. “You really should clean up, a liege should look the part.”
I gasp. “What are you talking about?” I sputter.
“Oh don’t play coy with me, Sarah. You finally made your choice. No more sitting on the proverbial fence, hey?” He smiles with gleaming white teeth.
I open my mouth, but he waves my protests off. “Janice came to me seeking a favor.” Puca chuckles. “I granted it, little did he know I was on my way here all along. I can't let you not have a fighting chance.” He stops pacing in front of the wardrobe door—it hangs at an odd angle. I had almost removed it from the cabinet practicing.
“Me?” I let the question hang in the air.
“You ask too many questions; it’s not good for royalty to not know all the answers. The wisest sit quietly and listen. Eventually, a Fae will tell you everything you want to know. Now, I’m going to take Lavender to my home. She has played her part and it is over for now.” He extends his right hand to her. Lavender bounces up and lays her hand over his.
My mouth dries with the length of time I’ve let it hang open. “My Lady, I had planned to stay till the end. If I stay ‘he’ will use me against you. I won’t be an impediment.” She pats my arm. “I know we will meet again.”
Turning, she smiles to Puca, and the air around them shimmers and splits. They step through to a cozy room on the other side.
I move to join them, but the magic closes in my face. I’m left to gaze around the room alone.
Great.
My back itches terribly, The bumps bulge out, and a thought occurs to me it is the first time in weeks I’m alone. Pulling my shirt off, along with my sports bra, I whistle up the mirror.
The face looking back at me is the face of a scarred alien. My fingers trail over the partially melted skin on my right side. The few drops from the unicorn had healed a small part of my ear and cheek. But it did nothing for the drooping skin over my eye or the missing hair. Droplet-shaped scars dapple my upper chest and part of one breast. I clutch my shirt to my chest.
I turn to my good side and pretend it is my whole face. Heat burns behind my eyes, and in my nose.
Stop, Sarah! It is, what it is, and it will be what it will be. You can’t change the past. I hum the back mirror into being and examine the two growths on my back. They lay on either side of my spine, between my shoulder blades. I move my arms and the bulge ripples with movement. I gasp in shock.
I lift one arm, reaching for the sky, and the corresponding bump moves in an upward fashio
n. I pull my arm down and whistled both mirrors away.
I squeeze my eyes shut to wish the monstrous sight from my mind. But no amount of darkness could erase the vision. Fae is ruining me, distorting everything about me. I grind my teeth.
“It’s okay, I’ll wait for you to change,” Puca’s deep timber reverberates around the room. I throw a glance over my shoulder and see his muscled back. I scramble back into my sports bra and slip my shirt over my head. Then I belt Silver back around my waist, allowing it to rest on my hips.
“You can turn around and explain yourself.” I cross my arms and cock a hip out.
Puca throws his head back and bellows, “I never explain myself to anyone. But spoken like a true Queen.’ He claps his hands in a mocking manner.
“I must say I wasn't sure you would choose Fae. But I am glad. Where to begin? This isn't exactly what I had planned, but you are as unpredictable as I am.” Puca says, then he reaches out as if to touch the side of my face.
I step back out of reach.
“I won't hurt you, Sarah. I would never hurt my...” Puca’s smile fades away, and he presses his lips together.
“What did you say, your what?” I scoff at him. He reaches for me again and I slap his hand away.
“Well, quick and dirty it is.” He pauses to take a breath and plunges back in. “I’m here to finish training you, so you can win and end this cycle of death.” He steps around me and whispers in my ear, “The rule of wild must come to an end.” He double steps around the room several times in a circle. I turn, following his moves, but I find words don’t come to mind.
“Cat got your tongue? This isn’t a game, and Fae play for keeps.” Puca’s reply sounds familiar—I’d heard that exact statement before, from my mother. I shake my head, stay on target.
“Janice, where is he? Deston sent me a note implying he had him, or Arty,” I demand.
“Oh, was it a note or a threat?” Puca fingers his goatee then crosses and uncrosses his arms, flexing all of his muscles at the same time.
“It was a threat, submit or else. But I don’t know if it’s Janice or Arty that he plans to kill.” My eyes finally meet his. They are yellow like a cat, but I saw them red as fire when he became the black horse. He cocks one eyebrow at me, with a half-smile distorting his handsome face. I cock the same brow, mirroring him minus the smile.
“Can we begin?” he inquires, then trails his finger across the bed’s duvet cover.
“What about Deston’s threat?” I can’t let it go. Arty or Janice’s safety depends on what Deston did. The butterflies in my chest beat at me, keeping me awake and worried.
Puca waves his hand around dismissively. “He wouldn't dare kill whoever he thinks he has. Jacques has Arthur —do you think he would trade such a valuable person to his rival? Put your mind at rest. Deston is playing on your fears, don't fall for his shenanigans.” Puca slicks his thick curls back from his forehead. All at once, he shivers. I watch as every hair on his body moves like a wave. I’d only ever seen a horse do that.
I did breathe easier, though not because I trust or necessarily believe Puca, but because of his logic. Deston would be a fool to kill anyone I care about, and Jacques is not foolish enough to trade away leverage. Perhaps they’re both safe. I hope.
“You have weapons, so let’s test them.” Puca pulls a sword from the air and whips it around, all the while morphing the room into an empty space.
I attack first but he easily deflected my blows.
Puca yawned. “Come now, Sarah, you fight like Janice. That will never do. You favor your right side. I think your vision is weak on that side, that won’t do one bit.” He shakes his head while making a tsk-tsk sound.
I bristle at his flippant comment. I don’t care who he is, my looks are off limits. Puca taps his lips with an index finger and sings a ditty under his breath. I watch as the wakes rush to my skin.
Then I arch up on to my tiptoes in agony. The next wake of magic moves over me, bending me in half, releasing a scream. The power of his magic pounds me, making me lose my grip on Silver. The blade clatters to the floor and I crumple next to it. The right side of my body burns in agony as I roll over onto my back to strain in torment.
“Just a little more, my child, then we can start again,” Puca’s deep baritone moves over my skin, tearing it to shreds. I squeeze my eyes shut to clear away the black spots clouding my vision. All I can feel is the painful magic washing over my tender flesh, cutting it into a thousand pieces then sewing it back together. I pant with each wake, dark spots shine before my eyes. His song rises, bringing a new level of torment and spasms.
I ache with his song. The new sounds bring new magic beating at my physical being. The air around me vibrates with magic. It harmonized over me pushing and pulling, ripping and tearing at my skin, knitting and smoothing. At one point I swear the tip of a knife slices my shoulder open, filleting the dead and scarred flesh away. Just when I think it will end, a new refrain begins along with a new affliction.
I pant with each beat of my heart, turning from one side to the other seeking an easy place to rest. Over the last few months I’d accumulated scars in so many places there was no ease to be found.
My hands curled into tight balls, digging nails into tender skin. Sometime later, the pain and song reverberate away, carrying the lion’s share of the misery with it.
Puca pushes my hair back from my face. “Rest, Sarinah, I’ll return with food and practice for the real fight.”
I move my lips to reply, but words won't come. Soft lips press to my forehead. I breathe in the musky scent of horse and man, only to find it all at once gone. I am alone again. Sleep overwhelms me, and I embrace it.
CHAPTER 17
Peeling back my eyes is like peeling the sticky label on a jar, slow and painstaking. Even after I open them, the adhesive film still clings to the back of my lids. I’m lying on a bed in my room.
“Oh good, you’re awake. I have food, so eat up because there is much to do and little time to do it. You slept longer than I anticipated. We have little more than a Fae day.” Puca hops out of his chair and saunters to the pristine wardrobe yanking the door open to reveal the inside of a fridge.
“What the fuck did you do to me?” I ask rubbing the sleep from my eyes and pushing the hair out of my face. My hands freeze midway across my face. The sensation of pushing hair over my right ear, a full ear, sends tingles across fresh new skin that has never been touched before. I inspect every facet of my face like a blind person, sliding my hand over both sides at the same time. My right eye is no longer partially covered by sagging melted skin. Instead firm, skin with a delicate eyebrow lines the outer edge. The wrenched skin on my cheek is smoothed into high-boned perfection, leaving a hollow just below the bone.
The warmth created by my new hair comforts me—you don't realize how much you love something until it’s gone. I love my hair, all of it. I love the way it cascades down my back. When a cold breeze brought shivers and goosebumps to my skin, I could rearrange my hair to warm my ears, neck, and shoulders. Heat burns behind my eyes, threatening to spill the tears welling up there. The need to cry pressed on my chest. I don’t care what Janice said. I want a good cry, I need one.
The walls ran with moisture and wake with joy reflecting my mood. I whistle the mirror into existence. It reveals what my hands found. I am whole, and the disfiguring scar covering the right side of my face trailing down my neck to my breast is gone. The skin fresh and opalescent, glowing with the light of Fae. My Fae markings are in full bloom over my skin. For it is still twilight outside.
Light green dots arche over my eyes, and go down and around to the edge of my cheeks. Long thin lines run from the last dot to my collar bone and swirl to my shoulders. Even the patchy burn marks on my legs are gone.
“You healed me?” Disbelief colors my voice.
“Of course I healed you. How that animal could have left you that way is unfathomable. You are my progeny, and I would never leave you
disfigured. It was never my intent for any of this to happen.” Puca’s normal devil-may-care act was discarded. I now see the real man inside. His ancient eyes tell a story of untold suffering and loss.
I explode. “But you have to care to heal.”
“It’s easy to care about one’s flesh and blood. It isn’t care, it’s love. You have to love to heal. Who’s been training you?” He scoffs and crosses his arms.
“That is a lie. I’ve healed and I didn’t love, I barely cared,” I whisper.
“The rule of magic doesn’t change for anyone. If you healed, you loved. It took me a long time to heal you. Someone tried healing you before, but they botched the job.” He paces the room like a caged animal, examining the walls and flaring his nostrils. The motion reminds me of a dog in a kennel. His every move is instinctive and primal.
“Don't talk about Janice like that. He didn't botch it, he just couldn't finish without revealing me to Deston. Janice did it to save my life, I was dying.” I jump up, the healing giving me renewed vigor. My sword lay on the floor, but a hum later it is in my hand and raised against Puca.
“I love it when you’re mad. Don't let it rule you, Sarinah.” He moves so fast it registers as a blur, and suddenly I am on my back.
All the air in my chest pushed out with the impact. “Stop calling me that!” I growl and lift my legs up before using the momentum to leap into the air. I’ve never been able to do that before.
“You take well to Fae, Sarinah. Your blood makes mushrooms, does it not?” Puca queries while standing over me.
“You know it does, everyone does. How do you know my real name?” I hold my sword aloft in readiness.
“I gave it to you. Easy to remember something you chose. The past is irrelevant. It’s what’s to come that matters. Tell me about yourself and show me your abilities.” He leans back against a wall and crosses both legs and arms, then gives me a wink.
“Do the Fae even know how to tell the truth? My mother named me, not you,” I growl, sidestepping around one of the chairs in the room. I dart a glance around. Puca already warped the bed back into the wall, leaving only the chair and a small side table with a cup of water.