by Rebecca Grey
The metal door rattled on its hinges, Daethian’s large hands rocked the bars. An uninviting scent still filled the space. I breathed through my mouth trying to ignore the stench that reminded me of rotting flesh. Blood still splattered the floors. Visible claw marks from nymphs who tried anything they could to withstand torture, or to break free of the cell, were scratched against the walls.
“No one saw you?” I asked, chewing on my nails.
Graceson held out his arms, “What can I say, I'm blessed by the gods.”
“Well that doesn’t look good.” Suzetta stepped closer examining my best friend. “Daethian? I’m Suzetta, the healer, I just want to take a look at you and make sure you’re doing okay.”
“I know who you are, you idiot.” Daethian pressed his face between the bars, pulling from either side.
“So you’re clearly semi-lucid, a good sign. I’m just going to place one hand on you, okay? Just to test your vitals.”
“Don't you dare touch me.”
“Come on, friend, won’t you just...” Graceson stepped up to the door. In a flash, he grabbed Daethian’s shirt and yanked him against the bars, “Listen to the lovely lady.”
The black around Daethian flared. His eyes narrowed to thin slits as he glared, his chest rising and falling in panting breaths. Unsuccessfully, he tried to pull away. Nearly rabid, Daethian was moments away from foaming at the mouth.
“Suzetta, be a dear and sedate the man,” Graceson purred.
Suzetta carefully laid a hand on Daethian’s exposed neck. Daethian’s eyes glazed over as he fought to keep them open. Between long blinks, brown began to return to his eyes and the black magic around him drew back into him. I swear his eyes ticked up to mine and he held my gaze for the briefest of moments before his body dropped against the bars and floor. Graceson lowered him slowly to the ground by the straining material of his shirt.
“Okay, I’ll take a better look at him now.” Suzetta snaked her hands through the bars and gripped Daethians open hand. Pink was returning to his flesh, the sickening grey color finally becoming a healthier tone. Her eyebrows furrowed. She closed her eyes in concentration and after a moment pursed her lips.
Graceson poked Daethian’s body with his boot. Satisfied that he was out, he turned to look at me. “Don’t tell your future hubby about this. You might find yourself friendless.”
“Dace wouldn’t hurt him,” I mumbled. I could hardly take my eyes off of Daethian’s face. He was looking better, he was looking like himself again. But was his mind his again?
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Fae are awfully possessive, and Dace has all but put a mating claim on you.”
“Can we not talk about that right now? I’ve already got a lot on my mind.”
“Mum’s the word, sweetheart.” He smiled sadly. If he talked too much longer I was going to break at the thought of what had happened to Daethian in my absence. I was selfish, and because of that something bad had happened to my friend.
Suzetta leaned away from Daethian, sitting back onto her heels. Her ponytail of dirty blonde hair brushed against her back. “Well, good news or bad news first?”
“Good news,” I snapped.
“He isn’t physically sick. Which, now that I’m saying it, doesn’t sound like good news so much.” Suzetta chewed on her lip between sentences. “Bad news is, I don’t know what it is. It’s bad, I can tell you that. My magic though, just bounces off of whatever it is that has settled in his mind.”
“What does that mean?” I rasped. Graceson took a step closer, but I waved him off. “Do you think he is actually possessed by a Havala demon?”
Those were old wives’ tales, stories of religious fanatics. While my belief was that my magic was gifted from Mother Nature, I had yet to fully embrace the idea of the dark side of the creation of the world. Could they even be real?
“I’ve never heard of a possession ever actually happening in my lifetime. But the sad point is that I don’t know how to help him, Ryker. I’m sorry.”
“There has to be something we can do. We can’t just let whatever this is keep tormenting him like this.”
“I can do some research, but it just isn’t something my magic recognized,” Suzetta offered, quietly, glancing up at Graceson. He rocked on his heels, watching our nervous exchange.
“But you’ll find an answer, right?” Tension built in my chest, making my voice squeaky and shrill.
“I can’t promise you that, truthfully.”
“Damn your honesty,” Graceson whispered.
“But what do we do if we can’t find anything? Is he just supposed to live down here now? In a cage? Like an animal? He just earned his freedom.” My hands shook at my sides. Graceson took another step toward me. His warm hands gripped my shoulders and he made me face him.
“Look, I’ll make a trip back to the Acture Court. I’ll take Randsin back with me, because goddess knows he needs to get out of that damn room. Windre knows a lot of odd information; he owns a lot of weird old books. I’ll do what I can. We will fix him.”
Suzetta shot him a warning glare, “Your lies will do her no good.”
“Okay,” was all I could manage.
Graceson prodded me toward the stairs. “Don’t stay down here stewing on this. I’ll make sure he gets what he needs in the meantime. Go upstairs, get something to eat, take a shower.”
Everything in my body felt numb and nervous all at once. It felt like history was doomed to repeat itself. History was making a mockery of the present, of what could be my future. Every step I took off the staircase felt like a terrifying step into the unknown. Daethian’s limp body remained in view for a short time. Then suddenly it felt like I was never going to see my dearest friend in the same light again.
TWENTY-TWO
Milo
Dearest Milo,
I appreciate your letter. More so, I appreciate that you refrained from sharing all aspects with my father. Additional knowledge puts me at an advantage. You are a valuable asset, friend. Since you have been honest with me, I’ll share one nugget of suspicion I have. My father did receive your letter the other day, but the envelope remains sealed. If that doesn’t suggest to you that to him this is a meaningless errand, I’m not sure what else will.
Truly,
Maggie
I crumpled the paper in my hand. A fresh breeze drifted in from the window, still open from when the bird had arrived and left. Fresh flowers bloomed year-round in the Acture Court, making the air smell fragrant with the pollen. That did little to help my churning annoyance.
If I was not acting the part of the spy, if I was just a boring errand runner for the king, what was even the point? Why send me and Red away if he didn’t care for the information?
The days here had come and gone with little peace for either me or Red. She experienced torture and I had to live with the guilt of it. None of it was pleasurable for me, not like I wanted. Windre remained brutally cruel, mildly apathetic, and mainly elusive. It made the thought of conversation with him so daunting, that at dinner I’d often chosen not to speak.
Red was always there, watching us eat. She was already skin and bones, and the food that I could sneak her was barely the minimum to keep her alive. Something had noticeably changed between us, though when it had happened I wasn’t sure. I could openly admit to myself that I wanted her safe, I wanted her out of this court. I wanted Red to be free. Maybe I had picked the wrong side of this brewing war.
Servants in the castle halls whispered, unaware of how often I was listening. Red’s rebellion wasn’t the start. Many, many more were blooming all over Stylica. One successful in the Heathern Court. If Randsin was there, had he even survived the onslaught the nymphs gossiped about? As much as I hated the man, I didn’t want to be the person who had to tell Eydis about his death. Though it would make my task of finding him pointless… making my personal mission to rid the world of that token a million times easier.
Hastily, knowing I was going to be late for d
inner, I tossed the paper in the small trash bin near the desk. Standing, I turned, only to stop as pain made my back arch in surprise. The mirror that hung on my wall glowed an eerie red. Pain dissipated as quickly as it had struck, in a long tingling sensation.
I fought the growl on my lips as I stared into the mirror at the reflection of my queen. Queen Atarah smiled, the thickness of her red lipstick easily apparent, even through the crimson tint of her image.
“I need an update,” she said, her fingers drumming loudly against the glass.
With a deep breath, I began. “I’ve moved on to another court, trying my hand at finding him here. There is a new king here, but I don’t suspect he would divulge any information, if he even knows it.”
“You are taking too long, Milo. If you cannot get it done, I will send Barthalow into that realm to find him. You’re running out of time.”
“I apologize, my queen.” I dipped my head. I wanted to make excuses or to tell her about the richness and size of this realm, but the more I did that, the more I would be planting the seed of greed in her heart. I already needed to save my realm from Atarah. I didn’t need to add an entire new realm to that also.
“I’ve missed you,” she finally pouted. “I’ve made plans for us when you return.”
Heat coursed through my veins. Atarah often fancied her guards, and used them for her own pleasure. At one time in my life I hadn’t minded being used like that. But that had changed after I found my love for Eydis. Even without Eydis’s love, the desire for Queen Atarah’s bed hadn’t returned.
Clearly, she only wanted what she could not have. Because I wasn’t around right now, the appeal of having me became greater in her eyes. Selfish bitch.
“I’ll look forward to those,” I said stiffly.
A knock came at my door, the guards who were to accompany me to dinner ready to leave. Windre wasn’t fond of lateness, I’d been told, and it wasn’t hard to believe.
“My queen,” I whispered. “They are calling me for dinner.”
“You are dismissed, but remember your time will be ticking away,” she sang, running her tongue over her teeth. She adjusted the crown that rested on her head and then the red of her image disappeared.
A large sigh of relief left me. I dipped my head down. There was so much to be thinking about at all times, so many layers to the lies I was spinning every day. With one hand, I tried to wipe away the feeling of dread my queen had given me, and I opened up the door with a tense smile.
“About time, I’m starving.”
Jerydin clasped his hands in front of him. Somehow I never got used to the wings, every time I saw him I had to fight to keep from staring. He never cared, he was used to it, but it was rude nonetheless. Jerydin didn’t speak and turned toward the dining room, giving me the best view of his wings. I wonder how easily he would notice if I touched them? Maybe if I had wings I could fly away from Queen Atarah, never to be seen again. Then someone else could be fighting this battle instead of me.
King Windre was leaning back in his seat holding a half-full glass of wine. His face remained neutral, void of any emotion. Instead of the braid I’d gotten used to him sporting, his hair was loose, pooling in his lap.
I bent slightly at the waist as I entered and let a nymph pull back my seat for me. “Tired of the braid?” I cocked my head watching him.
A small smile lifted his chin. It nearly startled me right back out of the seat. Windre didn’t smile unless someone was crying in pain. Sometimes not even then.
“I woke up with quite the headache this morning. I thought relieving some of the tension might help it go away.” He took a long sip of his wine, watching me.
The savory scent of our meal filled the room as nymphs walked in, setting the plates before us. I looked over Windre’s shoulder, hoping to see Red. She wasn’t there.
“Your nymph had a longer session with my torturer this morning. She was still dripping too much blood for me to want her to drag herself over my freshly cleaned carpets.”
“I’m surprised by that,” I said.
“How so?”
“She’s bled so much. How does she have any left to give?” I cracked a smile.
Windre chuckled quietly, slipping his fork into his hand, “You can be funny sometimes.”
Except for the fact that I wasn’t funny. I had never been a funny guy. It was just the only way to say the words of my concern without him taking them so seriously. A small moment of truth that needed to be said.
I turned my head away. It was sort of a relief not to have Red watching me eat. It made the knotted feelings of guilt within the pit of my stomach loosen, just a little.
“I’ve heard your nymphs whispering,” I started, popping a crisp piece of broccoli into my mouth.
“Gossipy little things. Have they said anything worth noting?” Windre’s gaze flickered from me to Jerydin, who had placed himself quietly by the door.
“I’ve just heard a lot about some sort of rebellion. The Heathern Court isn’t doing well? From the sounds of it, their king has fled and is currently missing. Just curious what the truth in that is and what your opinion may be.”
“Ah, yes, a pesky problem that one is.” What was a tiny ghost of a smile faded away to a dark scowl. “I have men already working on that issue, but it’s information that I can not freely disclose. I apologize, but your loyalty to me is none.”
Well, that lot of information did me absolutely no good. I wanted to avoid the Heathern Court. I wanted to avoid Randsin. But… Red needed to be there. If there were nymphs there fighting, as Red had attempted to do, she needed to be with her people. It was only safe. Even if that meant that she wasn’t with me. No matter how I wanted to keep her close, it seemed that I only brought her misfortune.
A door on the opposite side of the room opened with no sound. The movement caught my eye, my hand drifting to the knife at my belt. Had there been a door there a moment before? I didn’t think there ever had been. Behind me Jerydin was already shifting from his position and walking toward the door. Windre set his glass down and perched on his seat like he was ready to jump out of it if need be.
Red hair poked through the door, a fae man who looked around with an apologetic smile, “Hate to interrupt, I really do.” He stepped fully into the room, wings just as Jerydin’s, but scarred with long jagged lines, sprouted from his back. The man bobbed his head in regards to me and turned to Windre.
Someone else stepped in beside him. The figure stilled as my gaze traveled to meet the other man. Cropped black curls, large brown almond-shaped eyes, and the trained, perfect military posture.
“Windre, could we borrow you for just a moment?” he continued.
My body went stiff. Fighting the urge to bolt up from my seat, my hands gripped the table. I could feel magic burning through my veins. The call of the blood oath demanding to be fulfilled stung my skin like a thousand poison-dipped needles.
Randsin’s eyes were wide as he stared at me. The wood of the table groaned under my hands. Trembles shook my boots against the floor.
“Do you know each other?” Windre asked, looking from me to his guests.
My will was dwindling away with every passing second. “Randsin,” I said, my words just a growl on my breath, “You’re a wanted man. You need to get out of here before I can’t control myself anymore. You need to leave. NOW.”
I didn’t need to say anything else. Randsin sprinted away and out the door. The last tie to my will dissolved with one final effort. With both hands, I pushed the table with all my strength, throwing it toward the red-headed fae and the open door. The fae jumped out of the way, food, dishes, and wine crashed and splattered across the floor, across the walls. The table was the only thing blocking the door now. The only obstacle I could make for myself to delay the rush to capture him.
My voice rang out in a deep bellow. Every movement was stiff with the pull of my queen’s words. Find the thief. Get the token. Find the thief. Get the token. Find the thie
f. Get the token.
I knew he had it. Eydis has spelled it into his skin, like every other tattoo he had. Objects bound into his flesh. He was a walking storage bin of monsters and ungodly power.
“Milo!” Windre yelled, throwing his hand out before him. Magic made the atmosphere thick, holding me in place like cement.
Mentally, I was relieved by the sudden stop. Physically, I panted as agony built and strained under my skin. I was able to tick my head to the side to watch Windre stare at me in confusion. Jerydin and the other winged fae were already at my side. Bony fingers dug into my arms as Windre dropped his magic and his men pulled me away.
“You can’t stop me,” I shouted. “I can’t stop myself until what Randsin has stolen has been returned.”
“The world has really gone to shit now, hasn’t it?” the red-haired man said.
Jerydin laughed as he tugged me through the door. “You have no idea.”
TWENTY-THREE
Ryker
Hattie skipped in front of me. Her braids, that mother had tightly done behind either ear, bounced against her shoulders. I followed closely behind her as she ran in circles, arms outstretched, and singing at the top of her lungs.
“Hattie, I don’t want to play this. I’ll race you to the top of that tree,” I shouted, already turning for the nearest tree to climb.
A gentle breeze drifted between us, pulling the single daisy behind Hattie’s ear toward the ground. Hattie snatched it out of the air with a pout. “I climb trees with you all the time. You could play my game at least once.”
“Your games are boring.”
Both of us turned toward our mother who sat on a fallen limb, sewing a patch over one of the few pairs of pants that I owned. She didn’t look up from her task as she responded.
Everything felt like a distant memory, and somewhere in the back of my mind I wanted to cling to the image of my mother. Ten year old me, though, looked away. No, memorize her face. Take in every laugh line, take in her soft, flowing, straight hair, take in the tender love in her eyes and the gentle care that she handles her project with.