by Rebecca Grey
The owner dropped off another drink and disappeared without a word. I grinned, downing the glass as quickly as I had the first. Red merely continued taking sips here and there, her attention floating from face to face like she was waiting to find someone she recognized.
“Are you scared?” I finally asked. My body was feeling warm, it must have been the heat from the large light above.
“No,” Red bit out, then took a large gulp from her drink. “I’m fucking petrified, and this is all because of you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” She lowered her voice, “You just come waltzing into my court, my kitchen, acting like you are something you aren’t, and when you get caught you can’t just take your new assignment alone. No. You had to get me roped into it.”
“Oh, trust me. I did not pick you. If I had a choice, I would have picked someone a little more docile, a little more sane.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Do you think I care if you believe me or not? You can turn up that crooked nose of yours all you want, but I had nothing to do with it. It just happens to be my luck that I got stuck with the one nymph with a fucking attitude problem.”
Red shook her head in disbelief, anger quickly becoming amusement. “If you think I’m the only one that has an attitude problem, then you’re wrong. I’m just the loudest. For now.”
A full glass appeared on the table, replacing my empty cup. I gripped it and drank part of it down. The sweetness helped to cool the burning rage that Red liked to light within me. Thoughts bombarded my brain, and the filter I normally kept in place disappeared.
“You’re fucking unmanageable and you’ll get what you deserve when we get to the castle. So will any of your fucking little friends,” I laughed, because it was all I felt like I was able to do.
The knobby bones in her shoulders lifted as she stiffened at my words. Her thin lips pressed together, nearly nonexistent, before she frowned deeply. Water brimmed in her eyes, but not a single tear fell. Red cared deeply for her friends, though she didn’t have to say it for me to see it. I pushed the thought away. I didn’t need to make her feel more relatable to me in any way. Red was likely going to die in the Acture Court. She wouldn’t let them break her spirit.
Greedily, I drank the last of my cup. Just in time too, as someone emerged from the kitchen with our sizzling plates and another drink for both Red and I. I guessed she had finally finished her cup. She hadn’t said if she liked it or not, but surely she had because it was empty and it wasn’t like there was room in our argument to ask.
Steam rolled off the meat, still slightly pink as I cut it open. A healthy side of various vegetables filled the remainder of the plate. And there was my sweet, pink drink to top it all off like a liquid dessert. I took another sip before I cut into the meat.
Red waited till I dug into my plate then picked up her own fork and knife and started in on her own. Her shackles banged loudly against the table and plate, earning us a few unhappy glances.
“Here,” I whispered before I dug the key out of my pocket and leaned forward to remove the cuffs.
“Wanna get my feet, too?”
I chuckled, lifting my cup back up to my lips, “Not a chance.”
“Worth a try,” Red muttered.
The remainder of our meal was mostly silent. Though my hands began feeling heavier and harder to manage. I blinked as liquid pooled on the table and ran off into my lap. My seventh pinkity drinkity. Eighth? How many have I had? What? Wait. Pinkity drinkity? Something was clearly wrong with me. My clumsy hands wrestled with a napkin, dabbing the liquid that continued to pour onto the cloth of my pant legs.
Red giggled. Then giggled again.
It was nothing I’d ever heard from her. For a moment it was sobering. I lifted my gaze up and stared. One slender hand was cupping her mouth as more laughter tumbled out, her eyes half-hooded as she pointed at me.
“You know those drinks have alcohol,” she slurred. “And you drank a lot.”
“How many have you drunk?” Mentally, I was adding up our bill. Thank the gods I had set aside some of that money Marcus had tried to steal.
“Two. I’m not drunk, you are,” she hiccuped and both hands slapped over her mouth. “Shit, maybe I am drunk.”
“Not a lot of meat on those bones to balance it out.” I leaned into my seat, suddenly aware of how gravity was affecting me and how the room danced in circles.
With a wide, knowing smile, the owner took a deliberate step toward our table. “I own the hotel next door if you need a room for the night.”
“No. No need.” I pulled the bag of coins from my hip and dumped a heap on the table. That should be enough to cover our meal, plus a healthy tip for her quick service. Hurriedly, I pushed off the table and stood.
But standing wasn’t happening very well. I exhaled, fanning the red bangs off her forehead as the fae gave me an ‘I feel sorry for you’ grimace. My chest was braced against her palms as she pushed me upright and I tilted back toward the bench. Smoothly, or as smooth as a drunk man with the top half as heavy as a cow could manage, I grabbed the back of the booth and leaned onto it.
“Totally fine,” I laughed. “But maybe the nymph would like to stay the night. I’ll do it for her. Draw out the suspense of our trip.” I couldn’t help the way I wiggled my fingers at her.
“I don’t like you when you’re drunk,” Red pouted.
“I don’t like you when you’re not drunk.” It was a pathetic rebuttal, a clumsy slur that tumbled off my tongue.
“Here,” the owner plucked a few extra coins from my bag that I hadn’t realized I had left out on the table, and handed me a large key. “Head next door and you can use this key for room twenty-five. Just make sure not to get too loud.” She glanced from me to Red.
This would delay our trip. But since I wasn’t able to stand upright without the world tipping me over, it was likely the better option to just make camp for the night in the hotel next door. It was okay. It was all going to be okay. I was already screwing up my assignment because of this stupid drink that tasted like fresh fruit. But maybe if I keep saying it… everything would turn out fine.
“Well let’s go.” I grabbed the bag of coins and attached it back to my waist, scanning the booth for anything else I may have misplaced. Red scooped up her wrist cuffs and scooted out of the booth. Together, we wobbled out the door and managed to make our way into the hotel.
“Room Twenty-Five,” I said, holding up a key as we entered, to no one in particular.
A man dressed in a well-pressed suit looked up. His lips turned down in an unamused frown and he pointed to his left to a clearly marked hallway with doors with small painted numbers on them. Perfect.
“Onward,” I coughed, placing my hand on Red’s back and steering her toward our door. I could see the number twenty-five painted in green on the old weathered wood. Almost there.
Stumbling against the walls in between doors, I bounced back and forth like an eagerly thrown ball, until I stopped and shoved the key into our lock. It clicked and the door creaked open.
Inside, the lights were already on as if they had been expecting us. A single dresser, an understuffed chair, and a single bed. Quite frankly, it looked like the first dump I had stayed in when I entered this freaking realm.
“Great, another piddly slum like the last time.” I grabbed Red’s arm and pulled her along.
My foot caught against hers and we toppled forward, both trying to catch ourselves, only to collide again and bounce off each other onto the bed. We landed with quiet yelps as the mattress broke our fall and our shoulders brushed. Any words that we could have said didn’t feel right anymore.
Every tense muscle in my back relaxed against the green comforter, and Red’s head lolled to the side, a lingering smile still on her lips. Silence grew as we lay next to each other, breathing deeply.
“What's your favorite color?” Red asked in a whisper.
I squinted at the ceiling til
es like somehow that would help me sort through my muddled thoughts. “Red.” I finally answered, knowing that was the answer that was required.
“Why red?”
“Red like blood. Red like lipstick. Red like the gowns my queen likes to wear.”
“And do you fancy your queen?” she said even quieter.
“Hardly. But red is her favorite color, so it must be mine too.”
“Is that how it works, then? You only are allowed to like what she likes?”
“I’m bound to her.” I closed my eyes, shuffling through all the knowledge I had of what she liked and didn’t like. Like files that were transferred from her brain to mine as soon as the binding was done.
“What color do you like?” she said again, turning to look at me. I could feel the heat of her gaze on my skin.
“I already answered this question. Red.”
“No. Not what color you're supposed to say. Not what color does your queen favor. What color do you like?”
The answer had always been red. It had been red since the day I had been taken in to train in the castle. But I thought about it for a moment. Eydis often wore lavender. A particularly pretty shade of purple that I always thought complimented her fair skin. Then again, I only favored that color so much because it looked good on her.
“Brown,” I finally said. Brown, it was a good sturdy color and most certainly underrated.
“Funny, you stuck me as a blue sort of guy. Like a deep, navy blue,” her voice remained soft as she watched me. “That’s the first I’ve heard from you that actually felt truthful.”
“Shit.” I sat up making the room spin in wild circles. Vomit rose, like flaming acid in my throat as I steadied myself and forced it back down.
“Don't worry. Who am I going to tell at this point that would believe me? You clearly are not from the Twinity Court, so whatever region you hail from has certainly got to be far away.”
A whole realm away to be exact. Yet, that didn’t reassure me. Me and my big, fat, can't-keep-anything-quiet mouth. Whatever alcohol was in these drinks gave me a loose tongue.
“I’m never drinking again,” I groaned, falling back against the pillows. My eyes drifted shut, lured by an overwhelming sense of fatigue.
“Yeah, until next time,” Red giggled.
I think I love her laugh. The thought trailed through my mind. A drunken thought. Where her shoulder brushed mine was warm. It was a comforting thought, not being alone in this world, with someone who knew a little truth about me.
EIGHT
Red
I refused to let sleep pull me under like a capsizing boat, even if it could offer me vivid dreams of Milo drowning in pink, strawberry liquid. Instead, I relaxed and simply closed my eyes. As I felt his breath slow and his body slacken, I shifted on the bed. Slowly at first, just enough to make him think maybe I was rolling over to get comfortable. I waited there to see if he would wake. When he didn’t, I reached with trembling fingers into his pocket. And it wasn’t his family jewels I was after. My slender fingers curled around the key to my shackles. Milo still didn’t move. Oh thank the mother. The key was long and slender and my release to freedom.
He was an idiot for thinking I wasn’t going to take advantage of his drunkenness. Maybe he had thought I would take advantage of him another way, as I had noticed his nearly-hard cock pressed against his pants. Maybe in another world, where he wasn’t him and I wasn’t me. I hated myself for the way my gaze traveled up his muscular chest and traced the planes of his always-sad features.
No matter the smile he put on, no matter the anger that filled him, something about Milo was always just in despair. I tried not to wonder who had broken his heart to such a degree. His queen, perhaps?
Every move I made, I made sure it was deliberate. The lock on my ankle opened with a soft click, and I was careful to set the metal on the floor. My groan of pleasure as I rubbed my ankles was involuntary. Shifting my weight from side to side, I took a moment to shake out my legs. I felt like a different person when I wasn’t dragging that anchor around.
I left the key to the chains on the floor and Milo as he was, practically snoring, on the bed. Freedom awaited. Without the chains, the only tell I had as a nymph was the tattoo under my hair, and my scent, should someone breathe in deep enough. Plus, I would need to steer clear of anyone who might recognize me as being with Milo. I thought I had the faces of the fae at the bar ingrained in my head well enough.
Our squeaky door whined on its hinges and I pulled it open wide enough to slip through and closed it behind me. My back pressed against the cold wood. I had made it this far, no need to let fear grip me now. Still, my heart thundered like a horse sprinting through the woods.
Pushing away from the door, I headed down the hallway that led to the entrance as quickly as I could without drawing attention to myself. Our horse and wagon were just outside. I hated to leave Milo high and dry, but see you later, motherfucker!
A door opened to my left and an arm reached out to stop me. “Excuse me, miss?” a man with short dark hair said. He smiled widely as he looked me over. “Do you work here, pretty thing?”
“No, I don’t.” I pulled my hand away, but he stepped in front of me. Fae were cruel and they treated women like playthings. I would not be his toy.
“Nevermind what I needed. I think I just found an answer to my question right here. Why don’t you join me in my room and I can buy you a hot meal and a pretty dress, if you like?” He tugged at my stained, ill-fitting shirt. His lips smacked together waiting for my answer, though my repulsion had to be clear on my face.
“Do not touch me with your nasty hands,” I scowled, pushing myself into his personal space. How would he like it if someone entered it unwelcomed?
At first his smile fell, but then it picked up again as he reached for my face and ran his fingers through my hair. I froze as the realization settled on his features.
“A nymph,” he laughed. “Should have realized it by the ash markings on your chest. I just thought you may have needed a good shower.”
The man lowered his mouth to my neck, speaking into the shallow dip between my tendon and my collarbone. Angrily, I tried to push him off, but he only came nearer, his eyes twinkling at the prospect of a fight. “Do you think your master would mind if I borrowed you for just a few minutes?”
His palm was clammy as he ran his hand up my arm. I narrowed my eyes, trying to put every ounce of my anger into the movement. I jerked my knee up to hit him, but he slid back, easily grabbing my lifted leg at the thigh, and slipping back into my personal space. His hips pressed against mine. A wave of nausea hit like a punch to the gut. He might do worse to me than Marcus ever did.
“Actually,” a rough voice growled, “I do mind.”
The greasy fae man attached to me stumbled back, getting a good look at Milo. I knew he had to be deciding if he was going to push the subject or not. But Milo was nearly three times the size of him, and he looked just about livid enough to kill the man right now.
“Let’s go back to our room now, Red. Can't stand the thought of someone using something that belongs to me without my permission.” His attention remained trained on the other fae as he clamped his hand around my wrist and dragged me away.
I tripped over my feet as Milo practically threw me back into the room. The door slammed shut and he darted into the bathroom. Loud retches, and the sound of the contents of his stomach meeting the toilet with a sickening splat, filled the room.
“You’re lucky,” Milo emerged, wiping at his mouth, “I was awake and curious enough to see how far you were going to take it.”
Damn it all to hell.
“You were fucking awake?” I dropped to the bed.
“I would never do to you what that man was going to do to you. You’re an idiot for thinking you could get out of this town unnoticed. You’re the only nymph for miles! Who was going to help you?” Milo planted his arms on either side of me, bending until his red face was level with
mine.
“But you’ll take me away to my death,” I shouted back.
“You don’t know that.”
“Someone like me isn’t going to survive Windre, Milo. I’m too stubborn, and he will kill me because of it.”
“Because you won’t break is exactly the reason why I believe you have the chance to make it out alive. You’re an asset to King Ottack and not Windre’s to kill,” his chest rumbled with the growl. Milo pushed himself off the bed, pulling his hand through his long, dark hair. The brown of his eyes looked almost sunkissed as he stared at me. Maybe brown was a good color after all.
“Lay down and go to sleep,” he pointed at the bed. Still fighting his drunkenness, he leaned against the wall, sliding down until he sat with his knees up in front of him.
“What will you do?” I asked.
“Make sure you don’t escape again.”
NINE
Ryker
The long stretch of silence should have said enough. Every passing second had me wondering if I had missed the signs. Were they something more than lovers? Had they had a rough fall out and my question hit an open wound?
Suddenly, I felt like a foolish girl. An idiot who believed in romance like my sister did. The thought of my sister made me squeeze my eyes shut. It helped to clear my mind of the fog that seemed to fill my head anytime Dace was near. It was that damn, sharp jawline of his, and those great forearms with intense veins. Clear your head, Ryker.
“No, uh, it’s not like that,” Dace finally said.
“But you have slept together?”
Why was I doing this to myself? I didn’t really want to know. It was just so clear that Dace cared strongly for her. I wish he would have just answered sooner and said something like, ‘she’s practically my sister’. Why couldn’t she be like a sister?
Dace cocked his head, watching me with interest. “Why are you asking, Ryker?”
“I just assumed that maybe you were together.” My hands met in a nervous twist. “I heard that she was awake and I didn’t want her to get the wrong impression, should someone see you leaving my room. Which you should probably do.”