by Kristie Cook
“I am to marry her,” the man declared, and I nearly spit out my faerie wine—which was the most divine liquid to ever grace my mouth, by the way, even better than the coffee of the shiny world. I looked at him for the first time, and a broad smile filled his doughy face. Fae didn’t show their age, but something about this one made him feel ancient and not in a cool, mysterious way. In a gross, you-could-be-her-dad way. “King Fintan and I arranged it before he left.”
Maeve had failed to tell me this. At least, I thought she had. Admittedly, when she and her ladies rambled on about social matters, I tuned them out, even when they bothered to speak in mundane English. Surely, I would have caught such a major piece of information, though.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Prince Cymbel of the Court of Goldwood,” he answered proudly. “And you are Lady Lia?”
I gave him a small nod. Maeve ensured I was introduced as a local lady of the Winter Court, considering I was a wanted being. She also helped me perfect my glamour as a fae, and we chose a much more subdued dress to make me less noticeable and quite a bit less memorable. The dark gray silk had a cut that was almost motherly compared to Maeve’s, which I appreciated because blending in allowed me to eavesdrop more easily. For my benefit, she’d insisted that everyone speak in English tonight as an amusing twist on the night. “Won’t it be fun to be so crass?” she’d asked the crowd at the opening of the festivities. They’d laughed and teased each other all night, though many often slipped into speaking Faelic.
We hadn’t much time in the library today before we had to ready ourselves for tonight’s ball, which may have been Maeve’s plan all along, but I did have a chance to study a map enough to determine a general idea of the geography—Winter in the north and Autumn in the west, Summer in the south and Spring in the east. The Shadow and elven lands were noticeably absent from the map she’d shared with me. Since there were a few small islands off the coast, I figured this was only one continent of Faery. I wondered how much was missing of the rest of the realm.
I’d also learned that while the Winter Court ruled the Unseelie lands and Autumn Court was secondary, there was also a scattering of other, smaller royal families that served the major ones. Seelie was much the same way, with Summer ruling and Spring secondary. In other words, there were courts all over the lands. I hadn’t caught all of their names or locations, but I’d noticed a pattern. A name such as Goldwood indicated a minor court under either Summer or Autumn governance, and since he was at this party at the Unseelie court, I presumed Autumn. I wondered why King Fintan would marry his only sister to the prince of a smaller court that was already an ally.
“My mother is of the Autumn Court,” he continued. Perhaps that explained it, though it still sounded fishy to me. But what did I know of courts and royals, especially in Faery?
“I still fail to understand the pairing,” said another male fae on the far side of Prince Cymbel, echoing my thoughts. I’d met him earlier, a nobleman (noble-fae?) of the Autumn Court. “She is more than you could ever handle. Maeve is more of a warrior than you ever will be.”
Prince Cymbel chuckled. “Yes, she is. Or was. I do not expect her to fight anymore.”
“You wouldn’t allow it?” I blurted. I hadn’t known Maeve had been any kind of warrior—she never gave even a hint that she’d fought more than a fly—but I doubted this fae could stop her. As old fashioned as everything else was about this world, though, I wasn’t surprised that he’d try.
“He would not need to allow it or disallow it,” the other man replied. “Not after what happened at the Battle of Wormwood.”
“A shame that was,” Prince Cymbel said, nodding. “To see her parents slaughtered in front of her like that.”
I suppressed a gasp. No wonder she hadn’t wanted to talk about it earlier.
A woman joined in the conversation—apparently fae loved the gossip mill as much as the old ladies at the Loft.
“I heard she was so drenched in their blood, all you could see were her eyes glowing with hatred before she shoved a sword into the elven prince’s heart. The one who killed her parents, of course,” she added as though that weren’t obvious enough.
With my heart pounding, I excused myself from the group to search for a fresh glass of wine. A server passed by, carrying a tray of flutes. I grabbed two and downed the first in one gulp, placing the glass back on the tray before he even took a step.
Maeve was starting to make a lot more sense to me now. Why she never discussed being a warrior and tried so hard to focus on lighthearted topics such as parties and fashion. Why she held back pretty much everything about her parents. Why she hated the elves so much. I understood now, including why she’d driven a sword through a prince’s heart. I would have done the same thing.
She found me much later, as the party wound down, sitting at a table in the corner of the ballroom. I’d been quietly drinking my wine, listening to a conversation at the next table, as I’d been doing all night. I heard nothing about my parents except a proclamation that they deserved to be executed after what they’d done (though I didn’t hear what, exactly, they’d done). Nobody mentioned their whereabouts, in Faery or otherwise. The only other tidbit I gained was that they knew the Knight twins had been seen, but both had disappeared again. I hoped that meant Brielle had found Noah and was safe and sound with the Amadis.
“Shall we be on our way?” Maeve asked me, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. I stumbled right into her arms, and she giggled. “I see you enjoyed the faerie wine.”
“It was fabulous,” I said, hearing the slur in my words. How much had I drank anyway? “And on our way where? Are we going somewhere?”
“Yes, to your bed.” She slid an arm around my waist and steered me out of the nearly empty ballroom, leaving the poor Shadow fae to clean up.
She guided me all the way back to my room, which was good because I would have surely become lost. I didn’t know my way around the entire palace sober, let alone drunk on faerie shit.
“You didn’t tell me about Prince Cyr? No, Cym? No, Simba,” I decided on as we entered my room.
“Cymbel?” She groaned. “I will kill my brother for that. He can’t possibly expect me to honor it.”
“Do you have a choice?” I wondered aloud as I tried to escape from my dress that suddenly felt entirely too confining.
“If I find someone else, he will be the one who won’t have a choice. Here, let me help you.” She turned me around to undo the clasps that held my dress in place. As soon as the fabric loosened, I felt her step closer to me and her breath came hot on my ear. “The question is, who could make an alliance my brother could not refuse and neither could I?”
Her fingertips trailed down my arm, and I understood what the prince had meant earlier. She was intoxicating. Perhaps more so than the wine. And when I opened my eyes the next morning, I didn’t know which regret hit me harder: how much faerie wine I’d consumed or the fact that Princess Maeve lay in my bed next to me, both of us naked.
Chapter 10
Sadie. Her name, her face were the first thoughts that popped in my head at the sight of Maeve lying next to me. The dagger of guilt pierced through my heart and into my soul. Not that I had anything to feel guilty about. We’d made no promises when we left each other. Well, she’d promised to find me, but we both knew the likelihood of that actually happening was slim to none. We’d made no other commitments, no vows, parted with no expectations of the other. Still, I couldn’t help but think of her, wishing she lay next to me. Wishing we’d never had to go our separate ways, to serve our very different obligations.
“Who is Sadie?” Maeve asked, her voice husky with sleep. Shit. I hadn’t wanted Maeve to know anything about Sadie. “You keep saying her name.”
“Oh my angels.” I slapped my hand over my face. “I’m so sorry.”
“What? Why? Oh!” Maeve laughed. “Not during sex. We didn’t … that didn’t happen.”
>
I dropped my hand and turned my head toward her. “It didn’t?” I tried to hide the relief, not wanting to offend her. “Then why are we naked?”
She sighed. “Not that I hadn’t would have minded. But the dresses came off, we got in bed and … you passed out. And I must have too, because next I knew, I woke up next to you.”
Thank the angels.
“Maybe next time,” she said with a grin, but as she watched me, the smile faltered, and her brows pulled together. “Or maybe not. Have I misunderstood your preferences?”
“No, you understood.”
“Is it Sadie then? Who is she to you?”
I gnawed on my lip. I had no answer. I knew who Sadie used to be to me, but that was in the past. I’d likely never see her again, and she would eventually become a distant memory. I was no good for her anyway. She deserved more, and the sooner I let her go, the better. “Just … someone I used to know.”
My heart cracked as the words came out, my soul refusing to accept them even as my mind knew their truth.
“I see.” Maeve lifted her hand to cup my chin, her thumb brushing over my lower lip. “I sense you need a distraction. I happen to be very good at that.”
She most definitely was.
Gone were the afternoons spent gossiping with her ladies in waiting and other courtiers in the parlor. She’d been holding out on me before, but now showed off everything the palace had to offer. We swam in the indoor pool fed by underground hot springs. We raced each other on the indoor ice rink. Maeve magically changed the text in the books to English, so we could read out loud to each other in the library, and we ate and drank and kissed. A lot. She slept in my bed with me, but we never even discussed sex let alone had it. I liked her there because for some reason, I didn’t dream when she was.
The remorse about Sadie faded. At least, that’s what I told myself. But it was replaced by guilt about my sister and my parents. I’d become enraptured with Faery and this princess, pretending as though I lived in a faerie tale full of fun balls and parties, delicious food and drink, and a fluffy, warm bed while they were out there, somewhere, in who knew what kind of condition. The twinge of guilt became full on remorse gnawing a hole in my gut.
I had to focus. I had to figure out how to escape this place before the king returned, which would likely be soon.
I had to distance myself from Maeve.
Feigning ill, I locked myself in my room and focused on formulating an escape plan. Well, I tried to. It became all too clear that as much as I had learned, as much as Maeve had shared with me in little bits here and there, I really knew nothing about the surrounding land. I knew to fly south, and since there was no sun, I’d have to use the coastline as my guide. But I didn’t know how far south I needed to go to find Summer Court.
I didn’t know what obstacles to prepare for along the way. The books told of terrifying fae creatures that roamed the forests and lands and even how to defeat them, but much of it made little sense and was probably no more than stories to scare faelings from wandering into the forests. Even if the defensive magic worked, I didn’t know where to find the necessary supplies or ingredients to create them.
The truth was blatantly clear: I knew no more now than I had when I’d first come here … however long ago that had been. Days? Weeks? Months? I certainly hoped not months! That could be years back home.
“I’m beginning to think you are avoiding me,” Maeve said, popping her head around my door. She’d been knocking on it all day, and it said something about how things had changed that she hadn’t just barged right in on her prisoner. “I am absolutely certain you do not fall ill. You are part fae, part angel, and we do not get sick.”
I lay on my bed, feeling defeated. “Maybe not, but I just don’t feel well. Maybe it’s because I’m not supposed to be in Faery this long. I’m not of this realm.”
She seemed to consider this, but then simply replied, “Would you like dinner in your room?”
I sighed. “I just want to be alone for a while.” She opened her mouth, but I cut her off. “Please, Maeve. Just a night alone is all I ask.”
“As you wish.” Though the words were agreeable, I could hear the hurt in her voice, making me feel worse.
Ena brought dinner to my room, but I didn’t touch it. I lay in bed and finally let the tears go until I fell asleep. With Maeve gone, the dreams returned.
I crouched in the corner of my cell that was barely big enough to stretch out in, especially when the opposite corner contained my dung hole. A literal hole in the floor where I was supposed to relieve myself. It stunk like . . . well, like shit and piss, as did I. This wasn’t my regular cell but the one by the Pits. I didn’t know how long I’d been here this time. A few days maybe? Weeks? It wasn’t my first time either. The Vault guards were short on patience, and my temper tended to get me thrown down here in the Pits quite often. Well, that among other reasons.
I didn’t mind the Pits itself. The thrill of facing and escaping death provided a welcome break to the monotony of my normal cell block. The first time fighting other inmates to the death had been scary as hell, but the euphoria of winning had become an instant addiction. It also gave me a chance to learn and hone my new abilities and powers. There was no better teacher than real-life experience when your life was literally on the line. The crowds loved me, too, probably because I always looked like the underdog going in. And because of their love for me, I’d been able to make a deal with the master of the Pits—if Brielle was ever sent here, I would take her place.
The cells where they kept us before our turn to fight were the worst part, in my opinion. They were surely illegal in any world or realm besides this one. Any humane world, anyway. If I held my arms up and straight out, my palms touched the walls on either side. I could barely lie down on the stone floor, and I wasn’t exactly tall. At least I had that going for me. I couldn’t imagine a full-grown were-bear in one of these.
As if the anticipation of the Pits and the fight itself wasn’t punishment enough, we weren’t allowed the luxury of showers or clean clothes or more than two meals of old bread and water a day. And I’d been down here for weeks at a time, waiting for my turn. It was gross and cruel. Some of the weaker species never even made it to the fights, dying in their own feces-covered cell. But if you won? The winner not only gained another chance to live but also a long, hot shower, clean clothes, and a heaping plate of real food. Not gruel and stale bread from the mess hall, but real meat, vegetables, and warm, fresh bread with butter.
My mouth watered at the thought, and I wondered when I’d finally be given my next chance in the fights.
As if in answer, Morfin clanged his baton on the cell bars. “You’re up, kitten.”
I suppressed a snarl at the demeaning “endearment” as I leapt to my feet, grateful to finally be getting out of here.
“Who is it this time?” I asked after he opened my grate, and we turned down the short corridor toward the holding area off the actual arena. I could hear the crowd hollering and heckling, and my chest tightened. “Has it already started?”
Morfin didn’t answer me. This wasn’t good. He was usually much more talkative, giving me a bit of a heads-up of what I was about to walk into. They kept us isolated in the tiny cells so we couldn’t talk to the other fighters before we faced off in the Pits. Morfin usually at least told me what kind of creature I’d be up against, but now he remained silent. And the fact the show had already begun meant I’d be facing more than one opponent. I tried to listen as we stood in the holding room, but all I could hear was the crowd booing.
After my first time in the Pits, Morfin had explained that the crowd consisted of creatures from various realms who came to watch the fights at the Vault because they got off on watching other beings kill each other. It was a sport for them, one they betted on. That’s why they liked me—the regulars won much off of those who underestimated me. And so many tended to do that.
The boos became louder and angrier, an
d that’s when Morfin shoved me through the doorway and out into the Pits.
I blinked in the bright spotlights glaring on me but lifted my fist in the air when the crowd burst into loud cheers. They loved me, and I loved being loved. But as my eyes adjusted, my heart sank at the sight before me.
Oh, no. No, no, no! This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’d made a deal! Of course, I should have known not to trust them, the master or the warden.
I shouldn’t have been so surprised to see Brielle, surrounded by four others.
The Pits was just that—a series of wide pits in the floor of a large cavern in the lowest levels of the prison. The holding room entered into the largest and deepest pit that was somewhat off-center of the cavern. My wings gave me an advantage against most of the creatures I fought, allowing me to see the other, smaller dips in the floor that I’d sometimes use to trap my opponent in a more confined space. But the stands climbed up the walls of the cavern, and the crowds loved to throw things at me when I flew. Especially when my opponents couldn’t make it out of the main pit to reach me, the sides too steep for them to climb. The crowd wanted action. They wanted blood.
That was probably why there had been all the booing before I made my entry. Brielle wouldn’t give them the fight they wanted to see. And if they didn’t know she was my twin and not me, they would have been flooded with disappointment. Seeing that there were two of us surely had their interest piqued.
I snapped my wings out and kept low to the floor as I soared toward the group with my sister in the middle, taking measure of the others as I did. I quickly realized she wasn’t exactly surrounded. More like she and another girl were cornered. No, not quite that either. The girl was cornered, her back pressed against a wide stalagmite, and Brielle stood between her and the others. Of course, my sister would be defending someone she was supposed to kill. As soon as I landed next to her, I realized why—the girl was human.