by Ella Fields
They did not strike. Their ilk slunk in the shadows and skipped over skirmish.
And they said we, the Fae, were creatures with no morality.
“Luckily for Scythe,” I murmured absently, my eyes dragging from Castle Errin and sweeping over the woods and river into the land beyond. “That is often what happens.” How the Gracewoods had shared their land with mortals for all these centuries was something historians failed to explain in thorough detail.
They said that ten ships entered the harbor many a year ago, intent on exploring a realm other sailors had passed on their journeys. A realm shielded in fog and mist with sand more gold than that of any coin.
Rather than battle with them, the weaklings of our kind—the gold Fae—had invited them to stay and sold off a portion of their land in good faith. In hopes of garnering trade opportunities with more of the human filth across the sea.
The opportunities indeed came, and with them, the humans bargained their way into more land from the Gracewood line, their kingdom now taking up nearly half of Sinshell—and renamed the southeastern corner of our continent after their first king—Errin.
Yes, it would prove interesting to take back that which never truly belonged to the mortals. However, I could not foresee how doing so would benefit us too greatly. For they indeed had helped the continent of Nodoya and its two originating kingdoms to grow in wealth and opportunity.
“King?” Fang lobbed a peppered nut at the map. “Stars, have you been smoking the hazel?”
He knew better than to ask such a thing, so I needn’t have bothered answering and instead scrubbed my fingers over my chin. “What of the crossover?”
“We could use it again, but wouldn’t your swan have informed her mother or somebody of its existence by now?”
Doubtful. “Send your legion there at first light to see if it remains.”
Sharpening his favored dagger, Fang nodded. “And how does she fare after her journey in the maze?”
“She was having tea with the elves when I found her.”
“What?” Fang barked with a laugh.
“You heard me just fine,” I grumbled and knocked the placeholders from the map. They rolled across the table into the Night Sea.
“Well, well,” Fang drawled and tossed the rock he’d been using to the table. “I do believe this swan most certainly likes to keep you on your toes.”
“She cannot stand the sight of me,” I admitted, every word gritted. “Yet the stars themselves have ordained it. I do not understand.”
Flames danced higher in the sconces on the wall, no daylight visible in the windowless room that had been spelled to keep anyone in the dungeons down the hall, or anywhere else, from overhearing.
“Have you thought about doing something nice for her?”
I scowled. “I saved her from being mauled by the human swine, did I not? Then put her up in lavish accommodations with three meals a day.”
Fang bit his lips, then released them with a grin. “Maybe you should gift her with something she likes then?”
“What’s not to like about her rooms?” Blinking once, I wondered why she wouldn’t have appreciated my rescue and all I’d given her since, then demanded, “And why would I do that?”
The asshole laughed, then sobered upon realizing I’d meant every word. “Oh, my fucking stars.” Straightening in the chair, he clapped his hands between his spread knees and bent forward. “Okay, first you need to find out what she likes, what makes her happy, then give something to her with an apology for taking her away from her new elven friends.”
“Why the fuck would I apologize?” I asked, incredulous. “She is mine, not theirs.”
“The golden ones are… different.” He nodded. “From what I’ve seen and heard anyway. So I wouldn’t think the swan is too fond of being treated as though she were property.”
“But that’s exactly what she is,” I said, confusion causing my fingers to buckle as my claws threatened to erupt. Safely delivered and secured—she would forever belong to me.
Fang stared at me for moments that only incensed, then shook his head and stood.
Gritting my teeth, I spat out, “Regardless of the fine print, she likes frivolous bullshit like flowers.” I flung a clawed hand at an empty cup and saucer on the table, then leaned over it. “And fancy tea and pretty ideals such as peace.”
Fang lifted his shoulders, eyeing my black claws, then let them slump as he meandered to the door. “So give her flowers and fancy tea.” With a look over his shoulder that I couldn’t decipher, he said, “We both know you cannot grant her that last one.”
He’d been gone a while before I finally retracted my claws, leaving gouges in the map and the wood beneath it.
Opal
I remained in my rooms the next day, unsure how to proceed or if I even had what it took to see this insane idea through.
There was no other way.
Yet as I’d sat upon the bed, arrows and circles of light spilling in from between the vines and branches concealing most of the windows, I’d contemplated what I’d been about to ask the king the previous day.
When I’d told him to wait.
I had been hopeful he’d walk right back to me, and then I could kiss him, but I should’ve known before the word left my mouth and his razor-sharp eyes had met mine over his broad shoulder that it wouldn’t be that simple.
He wouldn’t have believed it. Not now. Not yet.
A book was splayed over my lap, nursery rhymes from the mortal lands, and a handful of grapes entering my mouth, when a brief bang on the door echoed, and he sauntered in.
Swallowing, I closed the book and set it atop the small pile next to the bowl of fruit on the nightstand. “Do you always just enter rooms without permission?” I inwardly winced. Idiot. I was such a stars-damned idiot. All my life, I’d harnessed the skill of biting my tongue, but around him, the one creature I had to, I failed to protect myself in that way.
Dade pursed his lips in mock thought, leaning against the door. “Well, yes.” A grin, magnificent and eye-reaching, made my stomach jerk. “I am the king, after all.”
I read the words his waning smile delivered… And it would be wise to remember that.
“I did knock.” He sighed then said a moment later, “Take a walk with me.” A gentle offer I could not refuse.
I still tried, for that was what he’d surely expect. “I’d rather not.”
His breathy laughter was talons and heat, a soft threat that grazed the skin. “Your lies are sweet, truly. But I’ve got time. I’ll wait as you feed me some more.”
Wanting my eyes off him, I peered down at my lavender gown. Simple, versatile, and laced around every edge in white, it fell from the tops of my breasts to my ankles easily as though it were a nightgown.
It was one of my new favorites, but too plain if I hoped to seduce a king. “Fine,” I said, and his brows rose as I did from the bed. “But let me change first.”
Expecting him to leave and allow me some privacy to do just that, I crossed the room to the closed door on the same wall as the bathing chamber.
Inside it, rows of gowns for varying occasions hung in peaches, creams, lilacs, blues, emeralds, whites, and lemons. A studded sitting chair was perched in the corner, an ornate silver table beside it, so one could sit and eat or drink as whomever used this room decided on which article of clothing to wear.
The cloaks were velvet, silk, and thick wool. The nightwear was tasteful, even if some of the lace concoctions left nearly nothing to the imagination. I wasn’t sure I’d ever dig deep enough to find the courage for some of those.
My fingers fell upon a white dress with a heavy underskirt. Its bodice hung low enough to tempt but not enough to sully.
“Do you like them?” The king’s voice came from behind, and my hand flew to my chest.
He stood in the doorway, leaning against the wooden trim with his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “I picked the colors.” His gaze left the garments
and draped over me like a cool breeze in the midst of a hard summer. “The colors I thought would best suit your skin tone, your hair…” He blinked once, his eyes finding mine. “And your eyes.”
Words evaporated from my mind.
Every single one.
I stood there, fingers falling slack to my side as the king’s eyes left mine to slowly roam over my face. They sat on my lips for a paused moment, long enough for me to remember the airless weight of his own upon them, and then swept down my body. “Leave that one on.”
Words returned in a rush, spinning me where I stood, as I said with a harsh exhale, “But surely something nicer—”
“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” Dade backed out of the dressing room and into the bedchamber. “Let’s go.”
Unable and unwilling to argue, because I was fond of the dress myself and also because it felt as though something had snuck inside my brain and mixed everything into an unrecognizable mess, I followed him silently out into the hall.
We rounded the staircase and followed the quiet all the way to the bottom. In the foyer, the king stopped and turned to me so suddenly, I nearly crashed into his chest. He steadied me with strong hands upon my shoulders. I told myself not to recoil and to stand still while I gazed up into those cerulean eyes. “Would you like some tea before we go?”
His hands slowly slid down my arms, leaving chills in their wake. “Tea?” I asked, perplexed enough to scrunch my brows. “I thought we were taking a walk.”
The king’s jaw flexed, and he nodded as if to himself. “Right. Yes, of course.” Taking my hand, he led me through the grand foyer, through those formidable arched doors, and out onto a beige stone landing that curved with the three steps beneath it.
I slowed, the king forced to do the same, and turned to stare back up at what had been my prison this past week. Shadow Keep was indeed a palace, its gigantic exterior rising higher than my eyes could reach from our angle. Black stone intermingled with off-white slabs of concrete, creating a monstrosity most might consider abandoned if they didn’t know any better.
Leafy vines, thorn-ridden and out of control, covered more than just the windows of my chambers. They curled over every available space, making the stone almost invisible beneath, light and dark peeking through in small patches. The doors before us, and the statues of wolven beasts with wings high up on the ledges of the rooftops, were all that seemed unscathed. Though moss crawled over the centuries-old sentinels’ heads and bodies, the stone cracked in some places, the monstrous spread of greenery and thorns had merely curled and woven around them.
“A trunk of gold coin for your thoughts?”
“It’s… beautiful,” I heard myself admit, transfixed. “And nothing like you would expect.”
“It is a deterrent, yes, but I mostly just prefer people not to think I live in a shiny palace with all the glitz and frills.”
I turned to the king, laughing a little. “But it is just that inside.”
Dade winked—my stomach kicked—and then collected my hand again. “Many don’t know that.” Taking the steps down to the fountain, another winged beast at its center, water spraying from its open maw, the king added, “And we do not have all the pomp…” He flicked his free hand. “The paintings, trinkets, vases. I removed most of it.”
I watched the moss deepen in color as we neared the edge of the square fountain’s low wall, watched it slither and writhe as though begging someone to touch the sun-warmed ledge. I didn’t, knowing a trick when I saw one. Such moss was grown with enchantments to snatch at the limbs and clothing of unwanted guests. “Why?”
“Less work for the staff. All that dusting must be rather tiresome.” I made a face, and he noticed, for he said, “You think I’m joking?”
“Most certainly.”
A shocked, quick bark of laughter. “Fine. It reminded me of my parents, of those I never knew, and I couldn’t stand it.”
The desire to ask more about them thickened my tongue. We avoided the road leading away from the Keep toward the river through the trees and veered down a stone path. Hedges, dotted with blood-red and snow-white roses, sat perfectly trimmed on either side of us.
The sudden stillness, the question sailing from my parting lips, made me all too aware of the gentle grip of his enormous hand around my own. “How old were you when they died?”
“Barely more than a week.”
The cold detachment in those words struck me as did a harsh, unexpected slap of empathy. To have never known my parents… For all their many faults, I still couldn’t fathom it and did not even wish to try. “Have you been told much about them?”
“Enough,” he said, tone curt. “Mainly how they died in the first war.” I’d already known that but not the particulars, of which he surprised me by stating, “Your grandfather and his general lured and captured them, trussed them up on flower-choked poles to be made an example of, to threaten into compliance, and then he tortured them before slaying my mother and thus beginning the war.”
I stopped as we reached the Keep’s edge. A giant dark metal gate loomed at my right, shrouded with whorls of leaves and blocking the entrance to the side of the palace. “They did no such thing.”
“They did, and for nothing more than fear of those greater than them.” His hand released mine, but not before he brought it to his lips. Soft and with his eyes locked on mine, they pressed into my knuckles, then fell away with his touch. “Believe what you will.” He walked on through the opening gate, the stone path no longer and grass beneath our feet. “Your lot always do.”
I followed him behind a rosebush and then a large grouping of shrubs beyond that until we emerged into a slow-rolling clearing that caught my breath and expelled it all at once. Emerald grass danced in the autumn air, wildflowers and bluebells rustling, petals scattering on the current of the wind.
And beneath it, a river, its surface like that of blue glass, winding and curling, cutting through the heart of Vordane—separating its ruler from the rest of the land.
“There are bridges hidden amongst the forest-heavy parts of the river, and they’re always guarded.” Dade’s hair swept back, every inch of his marble-hewn beauty available to the eye when he turned a few steps below where I stood. “The city across the river lends itself to both home, ship, and business owners. There’s a florist, botanist, herbalist, apothecary…” He went on, but I found myself lost in the movement of his lips, the perfect plushness of them, and the white teeth that would reveal themselves as he spoke of this place, this place of nightmares and death, with such ardent affection.
The movement of his mouth ceased, and I feared my cheeks would pinken as those lips curled into a knowing smirk, so I looked at the city across the river, the tiny glimpses of a lie I’d been made to believe my entire life.
If there were nightmares in this land, then they were hidden well, for all I saw was magic, vitality, and, judging from what he’d believed to be true, a ruler stars-bent on justice.
Revenge against those who had taken something irreplaceable from him.
I wasn’t sure where he’d heard fables of torture about his parents, but I did know that it couldn’t be true. I’d make him see that. Before all this was over, the truth would live on.
I cleared my throat, asking, “Can we cross it?”
“Another day,” the king murmured. “Or eve. The dancing lights over the river are something else entirely.”
Those words raked over me in the form of a shiver as I stared at the clustered wood and stone homes and shopfronts, the streets that wound it all tightly together into the shape of an imperfect diamond. I couldn’t make out much beyond the heart of Vordane, nothing save for many wood-shrouded areas, possibly some creeks and village towns.
“Why did you bring me out here?” I asked, no ire in the question, just blatant curiosity.
“You, ah…” The king dragged his attention to his boots, the breeze catching his loose tunic and plastering it to his firm chest. I swallowed, re
moving my eyes from his muscular torso when he looked up. “Well, you seem to like the gardens.”
“We, the golden ones, born with flowers in our hair,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help but smile. “I should be offended by your assumption.”
His brow crinkled in a way I found far too endearing for a male who’d ripped my father’s heart from his chest before tearing into it with his teeth. “It’s not merely an assumption, but watching what you seem drawn to.”
My breath dried and vanished.
Him. I was drawn to him, and remembering just who he was and what he’d done seemed futile given our circumstances—but I could never forget.
As if reading my darkening thoughts, Dade sighed and retrieved something from the shoulder holster I’d assumed was void of weapons. Not so; he’d merely glamoured them so no one could see. “Here,” he said, closing some of the space between us to offer me a sapphire hilted blade. “Should you decide to run into the maze unassisted again. No iron, so don’t bother coming for my heart.”
Those last words were low, frosted. I didn’t tell him that I doubted the elves would meddle with me, nor that I hadn’t thought about sinking a blade beneath his flesh. Carefully, I reached out, the sun glinting off the gathering of sapphires in the hilt before my hand wrapped around the leather.
Seeming as though he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, the king’s eerie stillness was no more. He shifted, boots pressing heavy into the grass, and brushed a hand over his cheek and into his hair.
He’d given me a weapon, believing I wouldn’t thrust the blade into his back when he turned and waded over the grassy mound to the pathway back to the palace through the bushes.
“I can take care of myself, you know.”
“Hence why I gifted you with the dagger,” he said. “You’re welcome.”
A groundskeeper passed us on the path and bowed but did not look our way as I hurried after his king. “Dade.”
He stopped upon the steps, lashes spreading from a jeweled eye that peered at me over his shoulder. “Why did you bother teaching me? When you’d never planned to let me live.”