Marvels and Misfits

by Scarlett Dawn

  “She didn’t fight, either,” Father said quietly, almost a mere breath of air. He hesitated before lifting her right hand from the ground, holding it reverently so that I could see, his caster-spelled ring twinkling in the moonlight from his middle finger. “There are no defensive marks anywhere that I can see.”

  Hot tears slid down my face. “She knew.”

  Father nodded once. “She knew it was her time.”

  A shuddering breath flew past my lips, clarity slamming my thoughts, my stomach churning all over again. “And she wanted to protect me.”

  “Yes.” Father looked up into my eyes. “She loved you with all she had, Trixie. She always did. Your grandmother is…was…always so proud of you.”

  A torrent of tears blurred my vision. I choked, “She was proud of you, too, Father.”

  “I know,” he whispered. The king placed her hand back onto the ground and squeezed it softly before releasing her. His jaw hardened suddenly, and his glistening emerald eyes slowly traveled the way the intruders had entered and fled. “It’s time for you to do as I said before. You must go back inside while I tend to business.”

  My jaw clenched just as much as his. “If you think for one damn second that I’m not going with you to hunt these murderers down, then you really don’t know me at all—as I’ve always suspected.”

  The king still stared ahead, his scan roaming over the crushed field. “I do know you, despite what you think. And I know you are not ready for this. You are only eighteen years old. You are not prepared for the vengeance that needs to happen.”

  “They beheaded her,” I said through gritted teeth, my fists clenched at my sides. “There was no need for that. They crushed her Fae-spark. That was enough to kill her. But they removed her head too, to show us they could.”

  The king ignored me.

  So I stuck the dagger deep. “I will be there, right next to you, to exact justice for a woman who was more a parent to me than you ever were.”

  Father’s head snapped around, his steady eyes assessing my features. Then he said quietly, “You truly believe that.”

  It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact.

  With my tears still tracking down my cheeks, I lifted my chin high into the air and peered down my small, regal nose at the king.

  I hissed, “Yes.”

  His emerald eyes narrowed slightly. “You are wrong. This proves what I said before. You are too young to go with me.”

  I never argued with Father. Not only did his blood run through my veins...he was also my king. This time, though, there was no way to hold back my words, not with the one light in my life now burned out and lying dead at my feet.

  I tipped my chin up even higher and lowered my voice to show how deadly serious I was. “Try to stop me. I know our land just as well as you. You won’t be able to keep me here.”

  Our stare lasted forever, neither of us backing down.

  I showed him I was the heir to the throne.

  He shoved back that he was the king.

  I almost faltered and dipped my head in submission.

  But I held strong. I was right.

  My resolve never faltered.

  A golden light began to waver near my grandmother’s body, hovering just over her elven corpse. Both our gazes snapped to the odd phenomenon, abruptly ending our confrontation. Crashing waves of golden light slithered up and down her body. It pulled and dragged at her corpse, clutching her form so fiercely her too-thin frame bowed off the ground in the growing glow.

  Father jumped to his feet in one fluid movement, and then he was quickly shoving me behind him and holding me there with both his hands on my hips in a grip tight enough to leave bruises. I attempted to peek around his right shoulder, my hands grasping his tunic in clenched fists against his back, but he put one foot back and then another, cautiously backing us away from the unknown.

  “W-what is that?” I stuttered.

  “Shh. Be quiet,” Father whispered sharply.

  Step by slow step, we and Penelope and Javon traveled farther away from the golden light currently seeping into my grandmother’s body, her corpse contorting in unnatural angles a foot off the ground, floating in the air and shimmering unnaturally.

  I kept one eye looking past his shoulder to keep watch, although my father was observing plenty for us, his hold on me absolute.

  Then the unbelievable happened.

  The golden light exploded in a dazzling burst.

  My grandmother’s corpse dropped to the ground.

  Right above her body, a facsimile of my grandmother stood, slightly transparent, her form faintly swaying in the small breeze, various parts of her moving at frightening angles.

  Father stopped cold, halting our progress. His clenching grasp on my hips released and his hands hung limply by his sides. The king mumbled in awe, “Oh my Fae.”

  My blink was slow. “I don’t understand.”

  Grandmother’s lips curved up at the edges, and her gaze moved from my father to me. “Do not fear me, my dearheart. My shell may be dead, but my Fae-spark is very much alive.”

  I released the hold I had on my father’s tunic and tentatively stepped out from behind my father since he wasn’t afraid of whatever this was before us. My mouth bobbed up and down until I could finally gasp. “But how?”

  Father waved his right hand to hush me, his shocked attention unyielding on his mother. “This has happened before in history. It’s extremely rare, but it has happened. Maybe three times since the Fae created us.”

  I moved an inch closer to my father, our sides brushing, as I eyed the spirit warily. “Grandmother never taught me anything of the sort.”

  The spirit patted the air with her translucent hands. “Calm down, Trixie. Your father is right, although, it had previously only been two times in history, not three. I will not harm you.”

  My emerald eyes narrowed on her. The tears of her death were still wet on my face. Father may understand this, but I did not.

  “I promise,” she soothed, her silver eyes holding only honesty. “It’s why I didn’t say goodbye to you. I knew I would be back. And just as I would never harm my two sons, I would never hurt you. My appearance may have changed, but not my heart.”

  I pressed harder against my father’s side and whispered under my breath, “What the Fae fuck is she?”

  Father snorted a quiet laugh and turned his stunned gaze toward me. “She is your grandmother, just as she said.”

  My lips thinned into a straight line. “Are you positive, Father?”

  “I am.” The shock began to wear off his features and quickly started to morph to one of fury. His regard swung back to his mother. “Who killed you?”

  One side of her mouth curled up into a malicious grin. “Follow the drums, my king. They won’t lead you astray. There you will find my murderers, arranged to be slain.”

  As alarming as this unnatural marvel before me may be, my back snapped up straight. If this spirit didn’t lead us to death, I would trust my father and her word that she was indeed my grandmother. But I would be there to protect my father if this was a morbid spell from the Caster Kingdom.

  I growled, “I’m going, too.”

  Silver eyes pierced mine. “Happy hunting, my dearheart.”

  * * *

  Pink, blue, green, and yellow flower petals scattered the king’s foyer as my mother stormed up the grand curving staircase.

  Minnie paused halfway up and glared back at my father. “I cannot believe you are allowing our daughter to go with you.”

  The king shook his head, his sigh reverberating in the silence. “Would you like to talk some sense into her, love?”

  My mother’s golden, expressive eyes, a gaze full of fear for me, fell onto my person. She shook her head in dismay, more flower petals falling from her seafoam green hair in her distress, then swiftly swept her strained concern back to my father.

  “She got her stubbornness from you. If anything happens to her, I will bl
ame you for eternity!”

  “I understand,” Father said stoically.

  Minnie huffed and cast one more glance in my direction. She mumbled under her breath the entire way up the rest of the stairs, hundreds of flower petals sprinkling the air and floating back and forth on their way to the ground. Her short, curvy body trudged away from our view.

  I cleared my throat and shouted, “I love you, Mother!”

  “I love you, too!” Her voice rang clearly. “And don’t you dare get killed. I want your elven butt home right after you make those damned criminals bleed.”

  “Yes, Mother.” I tilted casually toward my father and lowered my voice. “She does know we’re going to kill them, right?”

  “Of course she does. She’s simply being polite about it.” King Traevon pivoted on his heel and strode out the front door when a servant opened it for him. I quickly ran after him. Father waited until we were clear of listening ears before he stated, “Ask your question. I know you’ve been waiting.”

  My chest rose and fell in exasperation. “You don’t always know everything.”

  “I know almost everything. Ask.”

  “Fine. Why didn’t you tell Mother about Grandmother’s spirit?”

  “Because she doesn’t need to know. As I said before, what happened to your grandmother is extremely rare. Anyone who knows could be at risk. Many people would obsess and take horrifying actions to try to find a way for their loved ones to come back from the dead. Including hurting you or me for information.”

  “How did it happen?” Not that I believed it was actually my grandmother. Not yet, anyway.

  Father shook his head. “That’s the dreadful part. No one really knows. Your guess is as good as mine, or even your grandmother’s, for that matter.”

  My soft soled shoes tapped lightly on the cobblestones beneath my feet as we walked through the castle gates that had opened for us.

  “What is your guess?”

  “Only a pureblood Fae can completely bring someone back to life, as they did with the five originals who kept killing each other. So I believe Isabella has been Fae blessed, sent for a higher purpose, even if she is without her earthly body.” Father’s eyes caught on mine, gleaming under the wrought iron streetlamp. “You must stay quiet on this, Trixie. Knowing is dangerous.”

  My heart-shaped lips pinched in annoyance. “I won’t speak a word of it. I don’t want anyone in danger. You should know me better—”

  “I do know you better than that,” King Traevon cut me off. “But there are times when a ruler must say what he already understands someone knows. Some things must be said aloud.”

  “Hmph.” I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my attention to the small street we were heading down. I decided to change the subject. “I don’t hear any drums.”

  Father shrugged one shoulder. “Mother’s never wrong. We shall keep walking until we hear the bloody noise.”

  “We should have ridden our Fae-gifts,” I muttered. “We could be walking for hours.”

  “Are you complaining?” Father side-eyed me, and his lips twitched ever so slightly. “You’ve never been outside the castle walls. I thought you would like to see your kingdom.”

  I snapped my mouth shut and swiftly started examining the buildings that flanked us inside Gatlin Grove, the Elf Kingdom’s capital city—as if I’d never seen them before. “I suppose you’re right, though this is a very grotesque occasion to use as my first outing for sightseeing.”

  Father’s red topknot tipped back as he allowed a resounding belly laugh to fill the quiet, night air. “Oh, Trixie, I’ve known you’ve been sneaking out of the gates since you were ten. You can cut the poorly executed charade.”

  “You knew?” My jaw dropped open.

  “Of course, I knew. In the beginning, I even followed you. And I must say, your skill at stealing sweets from local vendors became much smoother once you became a few years older.”

  I closed my jaw with an audible snap of my teeth. “If I’d been given any coin growing up, I wouldn’t have had to steal from them. It was mortifying and frightening.”

  “Or you could not have stolen at all…” Father winked.

  “By all the Fae, just be quiet. We are supposed to be listening for drums if you have forgotten.”

  The king smirked and flicked a finger to the right. “I have been. They’re in that direction.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath and listened hard.

  It was ever so quiet, but there.

  Buh-bum. Buh-bum. Buh-bum.

  My red brows furrowed low over my eyes. “That sounds like an olden war beat.”

  “You are correct. That’s exactly what it is.” Father’s pace quickened, pulling ahead of me by two enormous strides. “Stay behind me until I have them all trapped.”

  My right eye twitched, but… “All right.”

  The closer the drums became, the more elves stared out their lit windows, silently watching our trek down the streets. Closer still, the residents stood outside their moss-covered apartment buildings, lining the road, listening to the war drums, and following our progress with their eyes. None tried to stop us, even though they knew their king well, all simply bowing to one knee and keeping their heads low to the ground in the wake of his focused scrutiny—but those eyes followed me curiously, a few elven stares widening with the realization I must be the reclusive heir. I did look like my father, after all, and this time, I was traipsing the city without a homemade disguise.

  My frown didn’t disappear as my music lessons took root deep in my gut that was bursting with dread. Walking dutifully behind my king, I murmured, “Father, that is ‘Blood for Blood,’ a shifter song.”

  Father’s hunting posture didn’t alter. “I know.”

  I closed my eyes in resignation, only to open them with resolute determination before whispering too quietly for any of our people to hear, “King Athon finally got his justice.”

  King Traevon did stop in his tracks this time, turning his head slightly to peer over his shoulder at me. His voice was just as soft as mine had been. “What do you know of that?”

  I lifted on my tiptoes, and hissed, “I know that you had the previous shifter king assassinated almost three hundred years ago to put his son on the throne. King Athon is patient to have waited this long for his father’s retribution. A parent for a parent. This is all your fault.”

  Father turned to face me and dipped to place his face directly in front of mine. “This has nothing to do with his father’s death. He didn’t give a damn about that man. The king is a conniving prick and ruthless, but luckily for him, he’s a better ruler for his people than his deviant father was. This, my daughter, is how he conducts himself—without mercy. I voted against a certain trade embargo he sought two days ago, and he’s striking back the only way he can. A way that I can’t even speak on because it would reveal my guilt in his father’s death. This is a show of power and nothing else. This is business for him, heir to our people, so don’t ever forget that.”

  My head jerked back in stunned revulsion. “You’re serious.”

  “As serious as his people murdering my mother.” King Traevon stared hard, bringing his face even closer, our noses almost touching. “And we are going to do business now on our terms. It won’t be pretty or kind. It will be ugly and cruel. Are you positive you’re ready for this?”

  “I am.” I swallowed hard.

  My father’s gaze stayed locked on mine, and his voice softened even further, full of tolerance. “When we get there, if you change your mind, it will be all right. I will handle this.”

  I didn’t get a chance to respond.

  King Traevon lifted to his full height and spun on his heel, starting his deadly march down the streets once more. Our people hadn’t moved, their heads still bowed low to the ground. Shifters were on our land playing a war song—they knew this—and my father was out for blood—they knew this, too. All would stay clear until “business” was handled, their trust i
n their king rock-solid in the face of lethal threats.

  Loyal to the crown, I followed.

  We found the shifters in a field full of crushed fireflies, their yellow lights still glowing on the grass like some kind of twisted beacon to the shifters’ bad deeds.

  Twenty men stood behind six females playing the drums, the dreadful beat dying off as we entered the wrecked space. All the beauty of this area, usually full of elven children playing in the daytime, had been desecrated by their unforgiving, overlarge boots. Snarls of all types of wild animals took the place of the drums’ war song, displaying just how much they didn’t give a Fae fuck who we were.

  Father didn’t give a damn.

  He stepped forward and flicked one finger.

  Instantly, the twenty-six shifters were surrounded in a circle of thick fire blazing blue as it burned hot.

  “Quiet,” King Traevon bellowed.

  The murderers had some type of self-preservation, as they all skittered closer to each other, away from the leaping flames, and shut their mouths, their disturbing growls quieting.

  I took an uncertain step to stand beside my father.

  I was here as I had wished. It was time to do my duty.

  Sweat trickled down my temples.

  Faces…people…stared back at me.

  I could do this. I could.

  They had killed my grandmother.

  They weren’t good. They were murderers.

  Frightened eyes flicked in my direction.

  They were murderers. I could do this.

  My hands clenched into fists down at my sides.

  Perspiration swamped my entire face now.

  King Traevon sneered at his prey. “How did you enter my kingdom?”

  A tall female shifter stepped forward, her eyes blue as the day sky, no white showing as elven eyes had. “Our king is true and intelligent. We came as part of the carnival troupe. And you will release us and let us go. King Athon said you’d have a message for us to bring back.”