Revelry

by Chani Feener

  A selfish part of her though was glad that they were here, and relieved that they hadn’t turned on her. That they didn’t look at her differently.

  “Do you want to come over and check those articles with me?” Eskel asked her then, cutting into her thoughts. He was watching her closely with those deep blue eyes of his, light blond hair swept back and off his forehead.

  She was tempted, like she always was, to say yes. But she forced herself to give a curt shake of her head and motion toward the large bay window across the table. “It’s getting late. My shift ran over at Howl’s, sorry I didn’t get here soon enough to be of any help.”

  “It’s fine,” Cole waved at her and stood, collecting books as he talked. “Leave the grunt work to us.”

  “You really don’t—”

  “I was joking, Arden,” cutting her off before she could tell them, yet again, that they weren’t obligated to help her. “Geez. Were you always this repetitive? No wonder we broke up.”

  The real reason they’d broken up flashed through her mind.

  “Seriously?” Tabby scolded at the same time that Cole realized his mistake and swore.

  “Sorry.” He hesitated a moment longer before giving up and lifting the books from the table. He disappeared around one of the stacks, presumably replacing them, without another word.

  Cole had moved here their junior year of high school, and the two of them had shared an instant link through Tabitha. At first, they were merely friends, but they’d grown closer as the year progressed. They’d only just started dating when her mom had been hospitalized for the ninth time. He’d been supportive throughout that whole experience, right up until she’d died.

  Then he suddenly disappeared, breaking up with her in a voicemail, only to be seen again a few months later when the Tithe had forced him back.

  Ironic, really, that it had been an Unseelie who made him leave, and an Unseelie who caused his return.

  Even knowing the reason he’d abandoned her, though, didn’t help heal all of Arden’s wounds. The two of them weren’t as close as they used to be, nor would they ever be again. Things were different now, and not just because he was aware of the existence of the fae, or because she was turning into one of them.

  They’d both just experienced too much.

  Still, Cole had won the Tithe, and despite Arden’s interference with the sacrificial ceremony, his curse had been lifted. He could go back to his college in New York, where he’d been studying acting prior to getting roped into all of this. Really, aside from Tabby, the other two had places they could go. Places they could run.

  Arden had made a promise to herself that if it ever got too bad with the Unseelie, she’d talk both Eskel and Cole into leaving. No matter what, she couldn’t relive what she’d experienced at the Tithe ever again.

  The fear and the guilt she’d felt that night had been overwhelming. She still woke up from nightmares that she’d been just a second too late, and that Tabitha had been dragged into the Underground by hellish water fae while Cole was torn apart by the Erlking, just for the fun of it.

  And Eskel… Her nightmares about Eskel were always the worst. In them, he was wearing his brother’s ring—the one with the Erlking’s emblem—as his hand gripped tightly around the hilt of a shiny silver blade.

  A blade that was imbedded between her ribs.

  “Arden?” Tabby was leaning closer to her now, lips pursed. “Are you alright?”

  “Huh?” Arden blinked, realizing she’d let her mind wander. “I’m just tired.”

  “I’ll walk you home,” Eskel offered. He’d already packed up his stuff, his backpack hanging over one shoulder. A quick glance showed that they’d cleared the table in her daze, and Arden felt another wave of guilt for not being present. They’re only here because of you, she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat.

  “We’re already on campus,” Arden pointed out, biting her lip when she saw the hurt in Eskel’s eyes. “It makes more sense for you to just go back. I’ll be fine on my own.”

  “But—”

  “Here,” Tabby quickly tugged Arden out of her chair and linked their arms, cutting him off mid-sentence. “I’ll walk with you until we reach my street. Later!” This last part she called out a bit louder so as to reach Cole, who’d yet to come out from the stacks. Without waiting for either to respond, she made a beeline for the front of the library, dragging Arden along with her.

  “Thanks,” Arden mumbled as soon as they were out of earshot.

  “You can’t avoid him forever,” Tabby sighed wearily.

  “I’m not. I was just with him, wasn’t I?”

  “As a group. It’s always in a group. You can’t avoid being alone with him, Arden. It isn’t fair.”

  Arden forced them to an abrupt stop just outside the library doors. A gust of icy wind slapped against her face, whipping the ends of her coat roughly against her knees, but she hardly noticed. “You know why I’m doing this.”

  Tabby sighed, pulling Arden a little closer under the pretense of protection from the wind, but really to keep her next words from drifting into the ears of Unseen passersby. Two months ago, Tabby hadn’t even believed in the Unseelie. Now, she’d learned the importance of keeping secrets from them.

  She must also be aware that the three fae who’d stalked Arden around campus were still here, watching them from the shadows across the empty road. Tabby couldn’t see them—didn’t have the sight—but she was sharp.

  “I understand that you’re just trying to protect him, and the rest of us, but you can only take that so far before you start becoming a control freak. If Eskel was going to go back to California, he would have by now. Making the both of you suffer apart is stupid, Arden.”

  “Who says I’m suffering?” Sure, it sucked that she felt too worried to be alone with him, but suffering was a pretty strong word. They’d only known one another a handful of months, had kissed a total of one time. “We’re just friends.”

  “You’d just decided to be more,” Tabby reminded her, “don’t pretend like you didn’t.”

  “I regret telling you anything.” Arden narrowed her eyes in a poor attempt to hide her discomfort at the conversation’s turn. “But you’re right about one thing, that it was a decision I made before. The Tithe changed everything.”

  “Maybe for you,” she said. “I don’t think that’s the case for Eskel. Don’t you at least owe it to him to ask?”

  There wasn’t a point in asking because she already knew the answer. He’d claimed that he was fine with it all, that they’d find a way to reverse the process and make her human again anyway. He’d told her, point-blank, that he wanted to go on a date. A real date, clichéd and normal with food and a movie and handholding…

  “What if there’s no going back, Tabby?” Arden asked, her words barely audible as a fear she’d held close to her heart was finally given voice.

  It was more than just not wanting to force Eskel into a relationship with a creature he hated; the Unseelie had murdered his brother, and he’d never bothered hiding that he despised them all. It was also about her.

  “I’m changing,” she continued, “you might not be able to see it on the outside, but I feel it. I know it’s happening, even if it is happening slowly. This morning, I thought something had caught fire in the kitchen and spent fifteen minutes searching before realizing my neighbor had burned their breakfast.” She held her gaze pointedly. “My neighbor down the block.”

  “Arden.”

  She shook her head, stopping her. “I know you’re trying to help, but I’m not just a college student anymore. Dating and talking about boys we think are cute—none of that is simple anymore.”

  For a moment, Tabby didn’t say anything until finally her features settled into a half smile. She swung an arm around Arden’s shoulders and tugged her down the ramp. “Please, you’ve never been a normal girl, ever. As far as I’m concerned, nothing’s really changed.”

  “Tabitha—”

/>   “Who cares?” she countered, though there was a flash of discomfort that vanished almost as quickly as it’d come. “My cousin and Eskel both have strong negative feelings toward the Unseelie, sure, but you’re you and they’re them, Arden.”

  “I’m becoming one of them,” she reminded her friend.

  “No,” she stated, voice firming some, “you’re just becoming more. That’s all.”

  It was a little hard to tell who Tabby was aiming to convince, and Arden tried to not feel hurt by that. They were putting on a strong front, but this couldn’t be easy on any of her friends either.

  “It’s more complicated than that.” She sighed.

  “Astrophysics is complicated,” Tabby corrected. “This? This is cake.”

  “You are such a good liar.” She snorted, her smile real for the first time that day. “How can mapping stars be more complicated than figuring out how to stop someone’s DNA from changing?”

  “I don’t know,” Tabby admitted, “maybe they’re both a little magic in their own way.” She canted her head. “Are we still being followed?”

  Arden didn’t have to glance behind them to know the answer to that. “Of course.”

  Tabby nibbled on her bottom lip. “Do you want me to walk you all the way? I could stay the night? Slumber party?”

  “Thanks,” Arden shook her head, slowing them as they approached the street that would take her friend home, “but I’ll be fine.”

  “Maybe I won’t be.” The first week after the Tithe, Tabby had been too afraid to be alone. After her near sacrifice, it made sense. Over time, however, when no fae had come knocking, her fears dissipated some. Her brave friend had bounced back quickly, and there was just enough daylight left for Tabby to feel comfortable traveling the two streets to her house.

  “Need me to walk you home?” Arden offered anyway, laughing at her friend’s flippant snort. “See? We’re both fine.”

  It was a contradiction to everything she’d just implied, but she didn’t retract it and fortunately, Tabby knew better than to point it out.

  “Okay.” They stopped at the street and Tabitha withdrew, immediately shoving her hands into her jacket pocket. Her sable hair was up in a high ponytail, and the wind flicked loose strands of it around her pale face.

  “Go,” Arden urged, playfully shoving her a little, careful not to use any of the new strength her body had developed. The Unseelie were stronger than humans. Arden was stronger now too. Still, she saw her friend struggle to maintain balance before quickly pretending otherwise.

  “I’ll text you when I get home,” Tabby promised, a new ritual they’d all developed since the Tithe. There was even a group chat dedicated to confirming their locations. They’d get check-in texts from Eskel and Cole later.

  Arden waved as her friend turned on her heels and bounded up the sidewalk, eager to get out of the cold. She stood there another moment, heart pounding, as she tried to ease the wave of anxiety that had swept over her.

  It was practically dark by the time she forced herself to get moving, making her way through the quiet town. The trees rustled as she passed but she kept her gaze on the horizon, never once giving in to the urge to glance up into the branches, or over into a particularly shadowy spot between houses. Something inky and large moved in front of a garage, darting in and out of her peripheral vision faster than she could blink, but she ignored it. This wasn’t new; pretending she couldn’t see was a skill she’d honed over the course of her eighteen years. She even derived a little comfort from the routine of the practice. She could almost pretend that they weren’t here for her, that they were just roaming the streets at twilight like they always did.

  Fortunately, she didn’t live far from campus, and within ten minutes she spotted her house, a tiny two-story tucked between her neighbors’ townhomes. The lights were off and it was quiet as she approached. Empty. Arden tried not to let the loneliness in as she ascended the rickety steps and inserted her key into the knob.

  But that feeling, like avoiding the fae, was another thing she was deeply familiar with.

  Arden felt him before she saw him, the heady smell of roses, teakwood, and mahogany tickling her nose and luring her out from the dream she’d been having.

  When she forced her tired eyes open, however, only darkness greeted her, her vision yet to adjust. She’d left the hallway light on, but it was nothing but a slim golden beam beneath the closed bedroom door. The door she’d left open before crawling into bed a few hours ago.

  It didn’t take her long to regain focus, and when she realized there was a pair of hazel eyes leaning over her, staring back, she reacted without hesitation.

  The dagger she kept tucked beneath her pillow was out in a flash, her fingers quickly finding its grip on the hilt—securely but with her muscles relaxed and ready. She slashed the weapon forward, a purely defensive maneuver, knowing her target would easily evade. She sat up and scuttled back until her spine hit the headboard, keeping the knife out in front of her. Her breathing was labored, but her panic was only partially due to fear for her safety. She hated that the bulk of her reaction was a result of the foolish thrill of seeing him, vestigial emotions of her past self.

  Old habits were hard to break.

  “Hello, heart.” Mavek’s voice was smooth in the dim room––low, yet confident. He’d sprung back to avoid getting slashed by the knife, a move that had forced him to the other side of the room, allowing Arden to get a good look at him.

  He was dressed in a long maroon jacket, and he reached up to adjust the popped collar around his neck, fingers brushing against the ends of his black hair in the process. His T-shirt was low-cut, the swoop of the thin material partly exposing a few of the rose tattoos scattered across his collarbones. Some were mere outlines; others had been shaded in a bright red.

  Red, to signify a Tithe win. To signify a soul he’d sacrificed and fed to his people in the Underground.

  A shiver ran over her before she could help it, and his eyes narrowed into thin slits, mouth thinning into an irritated line.

  “You won’t be able to hold that forever,” he told her, indicating the knife with a slight lift of his chin.

  Arden forced her hand to remain relaxed and steady, but her warring emotions caused her grip to tighten and choke on the hilt. The metal was starting to burn her where it touched her skin, her fingers and palm heating uncomfortably with every passing heartbeat. She struggled to maintain an even expression as Mavek watched her closely, not wanting to give away her pain.

  The fae were allergic to iron. That’s why she’d chosen to tuck that particular weapon beneath her pillow. Unfortunately, the fact that she was already starting to have an adverse reaction to holding it was further proof of what she was turning into, not to mention that she had no difficulty making out his form in the dim moonlight coming through her window.

  “Not unless you undo what you did,” she finally responded, feeling some relief when her voice didn’t shake or stutter.

  “We both know I can’t do that.”

  “Can’t, or won’t?” When all he did was tilt his head and stare, she sighed. She knew him well enough to know how stubborn he was.

  Sometimes, when she was alone and feeling particularly hopeless about her situation, she wondered if she’d questioned him enough. She’d gotten herself into this mess because she’d been too trusting and foolish. Maybe, this was what she deserved for being so stupid.

  Arden lowered the knife, keeping her hand wrapped around the hilt as she rested it at her side on the bed. “It’s been weeks, Mavek.”

  His eyes glimmered in the dark. “Have you missed me, heart?”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “That isn’t a no.”

  “No,” she stated, sure to enunciate, “I have not. I wish you’d stayed away.”

  If her words stung, he didn’t show it, his expression impassive. She’d seen him do this a thousand times before; he could hide his emotions better than anyone.


  He could lie better than anyone.

  The myth claiming that faeries could only tell the truth was just that––a myth. Rather, they preferred to twist their words, presenting a half-truth. That didn’t mean, however, that they couldn’t outright lie if they wanted to. If they grew bored with the “honesty game.”

  Mavek had told her that her family was cursed, implying that her mother had died because of it. That hadn’t been a total lie. Arden’s mother had died because of the sight she’d been given at birth. But the curse hadn’t made her crazy; the Unseelie had.

  “What were you dreaming about?” he asked after a moment of tense silence. “You were crying out and thrashing around. You never used to have nightmares.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  He gave a curt nod, catching on. “The Tithe.”

  “What else?”

  “You said my name.”

  If possible, she felt her spine straighten even more.

  “Am I the star of your nightmares now, Arden?” He took a step closer, practically gliding through the shadows of her room. His feet barely made a sound, clothes rustling softly with each step until he’d made it to the foot of the bed. “Is it wrong of me to say that I’m pleased? Pleased that you think of me at all? That I haunt you just as much as you—”

  “Stop.” She didn’t want to hear this, any of it. Didn’t want to have this conversation. The intense feeling of betrayal, which she’d foolishly thought had dimmed over the past few weeks of separation, returned full force, flaring to life beneath her breast. It took all her willpower not to press her palm against her heart and give herself away.

  “Could it be that you were actually dreaming of what the Erlking showed you?” He’d asked her to tell him about that before; he knew there was something she was keeping from him. “Perhaps you’re ready to share?”

  “I told you to stop.” She didn’t want to think about the dream, or death premonition as it were, that she’d been shown. She certainly didn’t want to tell Mavek about it and have others put at risk.

  “It’s too late for that.” He leaned forward, dropping his hands on the bed. It gained him a foot or two, but there was still space between them and he didn’t draw nearer, allowing her to feel like she still had room to run.