by Kristie Cook
“Ena tells me you want to read about Faery,” Maeve said once the waif had left with a pile of dirty dishes bigger than her.
“If you have anything, yes. I don’t really know much about it.”
“But you are part fae. Nobody taught you your heritage?”
“Nobody knew much about the fae to teach me when I was growing up.”
She nodded once. “Yes, that is true. Now we are all about spilling our secrets, it seems. Making ourselves known and present in your world.”
She didn’t sound as though she approved, so I hesitated before asking, “So do you have books I can read? Maps of the lands?”
Her finger tapped against her lip. “I would need to speak to my brother first. I am unclear on the protocol for prisoners of your … caliber.”
“My caliber?”
“You are not the same as the prisoners in the dungeons. Those I know how to deal with. But I am not quite sure what to do with you until Fintan returns. He sent word that Dorian was bringing you, and he was not happy about it, but those two have a strange tit for tat thing going on, and my brother owed yours.”
“I see,” I said, not seeing at all. “Is Ena a prisoner as well?” I asked, wondering if that was indeed her plan for me, to become another servant.
Maeve’s head pulled back as she laughed. “Oh, no, not at all. Ena is one of our many slaves.”
My brows shot up. Was there a difference? She laughed again.
“That’s right. I forgot how your world views slavery anymore. Well, believe me, Ena and the other Shadow fae are grateful to be here. Their lives as our slaves are worlds better than anything else they could possibly experience in the Shadow Lands, without doubt.”
“Shadow fae?” I’d only heard of them once, mentioned by Sadie. Was this another clue that our realms were connected? I shoved that thought deep down. Raising my hopes even a notch would only bring pain, especially considering my current predicament.
Maeve leaned forward, her eyes lighting up. “They are awful things, the Shadows. The demons of the Faery realm, they are, and the Shadow Lands is a place of nightmares. At least, according to Fintan and others. I have never been there personally, thank the gods and goddesses.” Her body shivered before she continued. “They are born with the worst kind of powers. Powers nobody could possibly want.”
“Like what?” I asked, leaning forward as well, curiosity snagging me. It was like this kind of darkness—of gossip and talk of dreadful things—was a safe way for me to feel a hit of what I loved so much and could not have. There was also something about Maeve that I couldn’t quite pinpoint yet. Something magnetic.
The princess shook her head slowly, that sheet of hair tumbling over her shoulders. “They are too hideous to discuss. They feed off what most of us consider improper, things to be avoided or at least kept hidden in the darkest parts of our hearts and souls. Fortunately, the slaves come to us drained of all their power.” Her voice dropped even lower in a conspiratorial whisper as she went on. “But I will tell you about the Shadow Court—King Caellach and his princes are the worst, especially the prince they call the Tormentor. He and the king, too, feed off of others’ pain and anguish, so he torments his victims to grow their powers. The Shadow Court is all about torture and agony.”
“That is … some dark shit,” I blurted, both fascinated and terrified. And I thought I had dark thoughts and leanings. I felt like a saint compared to that.
Maeve laughed, her voice lightening and louder again when she spoke. “Crass, but true. So stay far away from the Shadow Lands and beware of the king, but more than anything, of the Tormentor.”
“Warning taken, but I suppose it’s not necessary if I’m being held prisoner here.”
“Oh, doll, you are not really a prisoner.”
Chapter 9
That was news to me. My head tilted as I studied the princess. “So I can leave when I want?”
As though bored, Maeve held out her hand and studied her perfect manicure. “Well, not until my brother returns, at least. He wants to meet you.”
I bet he did. “When will that be?”
“Wish I knew. He’s been traveling throughout Faery, trying to stop this ugliness that’s causing our world to be almost as dismal as yours.” She flicked a finger toward the window, the view displaying dark storm clouds churning over the mountain peaks.
“The Winter Lands aren’t always like this?” I’d assumed since the region was called Winter, it was always winter here.
“Not so … dark,” Maeve said. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen the sun or the blue of the sky. A darkness hangs over our lands, and while we’re called the dark fae in your world, we’re not totally dark. Like you said—that’s the Shadow fae.”
I didn’t exactly say that, but I caught her drift. Our grandmother Bree had explained how being distinguished as light fae or dark fae really meant little. She’d mentioned the dark fae used to get their kicks from causing real problems in the Earthly realm, while the light fae were merely mischievous, but neither was good nor evil as a whole. And neither held much interest in our world, at least until recently. Now I understood that light was a synonym for Seelie and dark for Unseelie, and, it seemed, more about geographic territories than anything. Or, at least, royal courts and politics. I had to wonder if the princess conveyed the truth about the Shadow fae—that they really were that dark—or if it was more politics at play here.
“We all know the cause of it,” Maeve continued, giving me a pointed look. “That gate you and your sister opened.”
The last we’d heard, when our parents had told us how every faction had an interest in my twin and me just before the attacks began that sent us to the shiny world, the fae hadn’t know exactly what we’d done. Had they figured it out and that’s why they attacked then? Or had they discovered this since we’d been gone? I considered lying, denying it, but the look in her silvery-blue eyes dared me to be so stupid.
“We were only six years old,” I blurted. “We didn’t know what we were doing. It was sealed shut and cloaked, and we’d never open it again.”
“Are you certain about that?” she asked, one slanted brow raising even higher, and a small voice in the back of my mind answered silently: No. I didn’t dare say it out loud, though. Silence was probably the best answer to any of her questions from now on.
She turned her attention back to the window, staring at the dusky sky. “Fintan believes you’re not the sole purpose of the gloom. He thinks the Shadows have a hand in it, too, so that’s where his focus is currently. I told him, though, if it was anyone else, it’s obviously the elves.”
My ears immediately perked up. “The elves? There are elves in Faery?”
Was Sadie really here?
Maeve’s head snapped toward me, her whole demeanor and energy changing as though a switch flipped. Even her facial features had transformed—her cheekbones sharper than before, her eyes dark and sparking with anger, her lips pulled back to reveal a mouth full of pointy teeth. This was more like the dark fae I’d imagined while growing up, and for the first time since arriving, I felt a finger of fear trail down my spine.
“We don’t discuss the elves!” she growled, smacking her hands on the table as she leaned in so close, I could feel her breath on my skin.
I jerked back, her power smarting as though she’d slapped me across the face. She’d been the one to bring them up! “But you—”
“They are wretched, horrible things, even worse than the Shadow fae. Every single one deserves to die a slow, horrible death by the Tormentor himself.” She spat each word with a deep hatred that rivaled my own for the demons.
I blinked, biting my tongue, not about to piss her off even more by arguing with her. But my Sadie … her friends … I could never believe them to be as awful as Maeve made them sound. They had to be of a different Faery realm. Or Maeve was insane. Either was quite possible.
As though catching herself, the fae straightened, her features softeni
ng and returning to her beautiful, regal, mesmerizing self. “Enough of the ugly stuff. That is for my brother to worry about, not me and not you. You and I, Elliana, we are going to be good friends.”
I blinked again, the swing of her demeanor giving me whiplash.
“Trust me,” she added with a smile that could melt the snow throughout the kingdom as she reached out and took my hand between hers. Her fae energy had morphed just as much as her face, a pleasant warmth tingling into my skin where she touched it. “It is in both of our best interests, but especially yours. It could mean your life or your death.”
And while her smile and energy were warm and inviting, those last few words were laced with ice thicker than that coating the walls outside.
With the king’s absence and no set date of his return, I had no idea how long I had to escape from Winter Court, but I knew I needed to do it before the king came home. It would surely be easier to slip past Maeve and whatever second-tier army was left behind while the top tier accompanied the king. And the best way to do that was to give in and befriend her, even if I didn’t trust one cell of her gorgeous body.
“Friends,” I said, smiling with a warmth I hoped matched hers. Then to ensure she believed me, I added, “I love your dress, by the way. It’s lovely on you.” While it may have been manipulative, it wasn’t in the slightest bit a lie.
Her eyes drifted downward, giving me a slow once-over. “If you would acquiesce to removing … whatever that is you are wearing … and take a bath, there are plenty of lovely clothes in the closet for you.”
I’d been so preoccupied with being pissed at Dorian, frustrated with my situation, and then trying to plan my way out of here, I hadn’t even considered clothes. My leathers were safe, enchanted for protection. And yeah, they were kind of sexy because looking like a badass was hot. But still. They were drab, and since I’d spent most of my life wearing leather, I was terribly bored of it.
“Clothes for me?”
“Of course, doll. Like I said, I want to be friends. And I don’t allow my friends to gallivant around the palace looking like … that.” She flicked a hand my way as she stood, then she turned and sauntered for the door, her perfectly formed ass making the silk of her dress swish as she walked, the faerie stones down her spine glinting in the light. My mouth went dry, my tongue unable to form words when she bade farewell and left me to bathe and dress.
Since it was clear I wouldn’t be busting my way out of here anytime soon, I gave in and did both. I found a beautiful silk top that was pretty much a backless camisole, the way the soft, flimsy material draped down my sides and across my lower back. It was perfect if I needed my wings, though I doubted that would be the case today. I paired the gold top with a pair of black, tight-fitting pants. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven when I saw my shoe choices. I’d expected all boots, which there were some, but there were also stiletto heels like nothing I’d seen in either version of Earth I’d been to. What was this place, anyway?
When I was clean and dressed, Ena led me out of my room and through the castle until we finally came to Maeve and another young-looking woman in a parlor. Maeve introduced her as one of her ladies in waiting. We might have been considered royalty at home, which I assumed was what Maeve meant by my “caliber” of prisoner, but we’d never lived like royalty. Especially not like this, in a huge palace with servants and courtiers and ladies in waiting.
I did my best to acclimate and make them accept me. I knew how to put on the charm and get them talking, learning as much as I could. Unfortunately, I learned more about the Shadow fae and their ongoing disputes than I did about the Seelie and Summer Court or anything about elves. I didn’t dare touch that topic again, though I hoped it would come up on its own. There had to be a reason for Maeve’s hatred of the elves.
Days became a week, maybe longer—it was hard to keep track of time, with the dark light that was supposed to be daylight hovering over the lands. If Summer Court was like this, too, then maybe Mom and Dad really had simply lost track.
As more timed passed with no word from King Fintan or Dorian, I began to think my torture was becoming Princess Maeve’s bestie. While I didn’t like the fact that slaves served us and she seemed to have no qualms about that, at least she was pleasant to them and to me. But her days were nothing more than lounging around in beautiful clothes and gossiping with her ladies, mostly in their own language, so I had no idea what they even said. It quickly began to feel like Hell, even getting dressed. My love for fashion was dwindled with each day that passed, as did my enthrallment with the fae. Maybe I’d grown too accustomed to their alluring effects—or maybe I was becoming more like them, my fae side dominating.
I needed to be making a plan, learning my way around Faery, and preparing an escape, but any time I tried to elicit new information from Maeve or anyone else, they changed the subject to parties and who wore what at the last one. Parties I wasn’t invited to, of course, but heard from my room where I was locked in every evening. As droll as the days were, the nights were terrifying.
Awaking from another nightmare, my eyes peeled open to find light flooding the room and Maeve sitting next to me on the bed. Her thumb slid across my cheek, wiping away tears. I hadn’t realized I’d been crying and tried to recall the dream. I’d been in the stone prison again, fighting for food, for an extra minute in the shower, for my freedom. I’d been curled up in my cell, my heart aching to see my parents again, my sister. The feeling was all too fresh and real now.
“Bad dream?” Maeve asked quietly as her hand lifted from my cheek and to my hair, pushing the wet strands away from my face.
I looked up at her, finding true concern in her silvery blue gaze. She was a strange creature—perhaps all fae were. Most of the time she seemed like a shallow socialite, the epitome of a faerie princess. But sometimes I caught something else in her eyes, in her expression. Something darker, fiercer, more like me. Every once in a while, it was more than a glimpse, when it was just the two of us, and while she’d never divulged anything personal and stayed far away from anything political, she was more than a party girl without a care in the world. I believed she could care very deeply, but like me, tried to avoid doing so. Of course, trying didn’t always lead to success.
“I miss my parents and my sister,” I said, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling. I’d never been separated from my twin like this, and it’d been far too long since I’d seen my parents. I didn’t even know how long anymore. The ache of missing them filled my soul—or, rather, emptied it.
Maeve slid down and lay next to me. “I know that feeling very well.”
I turned my head on the pillow to look at her. “Are your parents …”
“Dead? Yes.”
I’d figured as much, since her brother was king and not her father and Maeve herself seemed to be the lady of the house.
“How long?” I dared to ask.
“How long?” she echoed, almost sounding confused, but then she chuckled humorlessly. “I have heard of the Earthly realm’s infatuation with time. It is a human construct, you know. I suppose those with such short lives feel the need to measure it. The fae do not. When you live as long as we do, it is futile to try to track it. But I can tell you that the grief feels as fresh as though it happened yesterday.”
The truth of her statement came just as clearly in the sorrowful tone of her voice as it did in her words.
“How?” I whispered.
“War,” she said simply, then changed the direction of the conversation, obviously not wanting to discuss the details of the how. “I miss them deeply, so I understand how you feel.”
I rolled back to my side. “Maeve …” I hesitated, but I’d been delaying the question for too long. “Do you know where my parents are? Do you at least know if they’re alive?”
She turned onto her side, too, and lifted a lock of my hair from my shoulder, rubbing her thumb over the dark ends. “You know my rule, Elliana: I don’t discuss politics. But
I have an idea. You should come to tonight’s party. I have the perfect dress for you.”
My brows pinched together as annoyance prickled my chest and throat. Once again, she turned a serious conversation back to parties and fashion.
“And while you’re there,” she continued before I could reply, “listen carefully. You may just learn something. In the meantime, I thought I could take you to the library today.”
My mood swung as sharply as hers, excitement overcoming me. Perhaps becoming her bestie was paying off. She’d never replace Brielle or Charleigh, of course, but the more I got to know her, the more I realized I wasn’t simply playing a role anymore. She had her faults, but she had her graces, too. Or maybe I was simply falling under the spell that was Princess Maeve of the Winter Court.
“The princess is intoxicating, is she not?” the male fae beside me asked later that night as we both watched Maeve spin around the dance floor in the arms of a prince. Her dress was nearly the color of her dark flesh, the glimmering sheen of the sheer fabric and the faerie markings on her skin the only distinguishing factors. With the right shift of light, her breasts and the curves of her ass were on full display.
“I suppose that is one way to say it,” I murmured, unable to avert my gaze from her.
Beautiful creatures filled the large ballroom, which was decorated in what I’d come to learn as the traditional colors of Winter Court—blue and silver. Ribbons curled down from the ceiling, faerie light orbs twinkling among them. An orchestra played from one end of the room, their sound melodic yet foreign to my ears. One wall consisted of all windows, illuminated by a full moon and deep blue sky, and on the opposite wall stretched a long bar. Shadow fae threaded their ways among the partiers with trays of food and drinks.