by Sadie Moss
Even though all three are different though, I like all of them equally. After all, who wants to do only one type of dance for the rest of their life? Maybe some people would, but not me.
In a way, I’m grateful for the distraction provided by the fae and classwork, because it means I don’t have time to deal with the issue of the guys. I don’t have any clue what I’m supposed to do about my feelings for them, and the last thing I want to do is hurt any of them.
The three men perform their spells as I watch, and at first, I don’t see anything. I can see the sparks of magic they generate, but there’s no response, no change, no ripple in the air or shift in the monument.
Darn it. Another bust, same as the last two. I want to scream in frustration—
And then I see it.
I look around quickly to make sure nobody else is watching as the air shifts in front of us, as if there was an invisible wall and it’s crumbling. I see small flashes of color in the air that poof like colored smoke—wards or locks of some kind that are vanishing or being disabled. The Spire flashes with purple light and shifts slightly, and then the ground beneath our feet crumbles away, revealing an ornate door.
Holy shit.
The door is covered in symbols that I can’t read. “What’s it say?” I whisper.
“It’s a form of Gaelic,” Theo murmurs. “It says, Those who enter, enter fae world and fae law. Tread carefully, traveler, beware the teeth when you step into the maw.”
“What the hell is a maw?” Cross asks.
“It’s another word for mouth,” Kasian replies.
I’m not surprised the fae made their warning rhyme. They seem to have a big thing for rhymes and riddles. And this message, rhyme or no, couldn’t be clearer. We’re about to enter the fae world, and that means we have to accept whatever consequences come from that. It’s basically a Terms and Services agreement, like when you buy a cell phone.
Although I don’t think Apple is going to use my iPhone to possibly kill me if I accidentally violate one of their terms.
“I don’t suppose it also tells us what all the fae laws are?” I ask.
Theo chuckles dryly. “Of course not. That would be much too easy, love.”
Cross bends down, seizing the large brass ring that serves as the door handle before looking back over his shoulder. “Are we all ready?”
He says “we,” but I’m the person he’s looking at.
I nod. It’s now or never. I’ve got to get to the bottom of this.
Cross swings the door open with an ominous creak, exposing a deep, dark tunnel. It really does look like the gaping maw of some deadly creature.
Swallowing hard, I steel myself and set my shoulders.
“Ladies first,” Theo drawls.
I step through.
Chapter 23
I presumed this would be a tunnel of some kind, that we’d have to walk and walk, perhaps down a long flight of stairs—but that’s not what happens at all.
The moment I step through the doorway, I can feel something in my body shift. It’s like I’m moving through all the space of the universe in an instant, like I’m a blip, a glitch in the matrix, and then—I’m somewhere else entirely.
My stomach wobbles dangerously, and I bend over, bracing my hands on my knees.
Thankfully, I don’t throw up. That would be kind of unfortunate.
There’s a strange popping noise, like when your ears pop at a change in elevation, and then Cross appears next to me. Then the popping sound comes again, and Theo blips into existence. Finally, Kasian. They all look a little queasy too, and I’m glad to see that I’m not the only one.
“Did you close the door behind us?” I ask Kasian. I don’t want some poor random person falling through.
“I think it will seal by itself,” he replies.
Ah, right. You have to deliberately try to get to fairyland these days.
That’s when I finally look up, and look around, and realize where we are.
My jaw drops.
When I read that the fae lived in an “underground city,” I conjured up images of a lot of stone, maybe something like what you’d imagine dwarf cities would look like.
But the reality is nowhere near that.
There’s no imposing, harsh rock formations or chasms or dark spaces. Instead, the entire area is bathed in a glowing light, patches of it white, other patches tinged slightly blue or green.
All around our feet, flowers spread, but they’re nothing like I’ve ever seen before. They look almost like they should be underwater, with tendrils that remind me of jellyfish, and bioluminescent petals the size of my hand. They glow in patches of pink and blue and purple, and flitting from one to the other, glowing like fireflies, are what appear to be tiny little sprites.
I can’t see the walls at all. The only sign that we’re underground is a slight staleness to the air, a kind of closed-off feeling that you get when you’re inside a contained place. Something primal in me can tell by the air that we’re underground, and despite the lack of walls closing in, my chest goes tight with claustrophobia.
I shove the fear down. I’m not going to freak out over something like claustrophobia. Not when I have things like the government finding me out or the fae killing me to worry about.
Not that the fae will kill me. According to our research, they’re not very big on death as a punishment. They tend to prefer things like a hundred years of servitude.
“What do we do now?” Theo whispers.
Well, what else can we do?
“We walk,” I tell him. “Try to find the fae.”
I start to move forward, pausing as the flowers seem to part a little to get out of my way. Holy crap. This is a whole new level of magic. Up on the surface level, in the Hidden World, there were times when I could almost forget I wasn’t in my usual Baltimore. There were a lot of similarities, and the signs of magic were often subtle or unexpected.
Here, though, it’s in the very atmosphere. It’s all around me. Swirls of silvery dust dance through the air, and I can hear what sounds like a melodic, low-level humming. As if a chorus of small, hidden creatures are creating a melody. To our left, I can see a stand of trees, tall and regal, with branches that fan out and make a cover similar to an umbrella, and leaves of silver. If I squint and concentrate, I can see shapes moving between the trees. They look like deer, but not quite. Who knows, really?
Over to our right is a large lake, the surface smooth as glass. I can’t tell if it’s actually frozen over, or if the water is that still, and either way, I have a feeling it wouldn’t be safe to get too close.
Some of the firefly sprites notice us and flit around our heads curiously, chattering in a soft, high-pitched language that I can’t understand. Their minuscule wings trill like tiny bells as they move, and I actually find myself smiling.
“Is this where Tinkerbell comes from?” I ask.
“Who?” Cross wrinkles his nose.
As if the sprites were a signal, other animals emerge from the flora and fauna to observe us too. Brightly colored frogs that look like they belong in the Amazon hop around at our feet. Large rabbits that have a human-like intelligence in their eyes stare at us from a few feet away, their noses twitching. A few pure white birds that look almost but not quite like ravens circle above us.
Considering how hard it was to locate this realm, I doubt these animals encounter very many non-fae. No wonder they’re curious. They also all seem to be more intelligent than normal animals. I’ve read stories where animals were used as conduits, for the fae or other magic users to see through their eyes, or even just as spies that reported back to their masters.
Is this what’s happening here?
We want the fae to know that we’re here, of course. We need to sort this mess out. But the idea of these animals spying on us for them, or of the fae watching us through the eyes of these creatures is… disconcerting, to say the least.
“Bloody hell,” Theo mutters, pointing up ahe
ad. “Look.”
I follow the line of his finger, and my jaw drops.
Rising out of the mist, so huge and imposing I’m shocked I didn’t see it the moment we entered, is a city. A shining city made out of wood and white stone and gleaming metals I can’t name. Some of the metal is the palest of silver, and other bits appear to reflect the rainbow, like opal—maybe it is opal, and not any kind of metal at all.
The wood is white, and it still seems to be alive, as if the fae coaxed the trees into spreading their branches and bending their trunks in just the way they wanted them to. The white stone is gleaming, polished, and interwoven with the wood and metal in a kind of marriage of elements that city planners can only dream of.
The spires rise up and up, thin and elegant, something delicate about their construction, as if they were spun out of lace. There are swaying bridges that connect different areas, and I can see glowing patches of moss on the buildings and plants everywhere, nature not kept back but invited in and made a part of the structures themselves. There are high archways, columns holding up buildings, and twisting, cobbled streets.
My breath catches. This—this is magic. What people do up in the Hidden World is magic too, of course, but it’s different somehow. They hone it like a skill, learn it like math equations, build it like technology.
This is something so much deeper, so much more. This is something you can’t learn in the usual way or build upon like mathematics. This is a deep, old magic, magic that sits in the very air, magic that is so deeply a part of this world that it can do things that seem impossible.
I’m not sure how long I stand here gaping, but it must be a while because eventually Cross elbows me. “Hey, cupcake. We should get a move on,” he says quietly.
He’s right. We don’t have a lot of time.
We move forward again, through the flowers. As we near the city, I see other structures appearing as if out of nowhere, that same mist always surrounding them, and I’m beginning to suspect there’s some kind of enchantment that keeps you from seeing the fae buildings until you’re within a certain distance from them. These structures are smaller and more delicate, houses that seem to have grown out of the ground like plants.
Fae peer at us through their windows. Some of them look like the one that attacked me. Others are so pale I can see veins underneath their skin, their eyes pure black and wet like pebbles dropped into a pond, shining at me, their long white-blond hair done up in elaborate braids, their clothes made of flowing green cloth. They’re tall too, a good foot taller than Theo, who’s the tallest of us, and their fingers are unnaturally long and tapered at the ends.
Oddly enough, I don’t see any fae children.
We get closer to the city, and I notice that some of the fae are gathering around us, following us. I can almost smell the suspicion on them. I honestly can’t blame them—although I hope their suspicion doesn’t spur them into attacking us.
The city has no gates, but a rushing river blocks our path, with a bridge leading over it.
Here, we’re greeted officially. Not “officially” as in a welcome party. More like someone sent out a group to figure out who the fuck we are.
These fae are dark-skinned, in various shades, some black as night with a blue tint to their skin, others the color of wet sand. Unlike the ones in the outlying houses, who are waif-like and androgynous, these fae are voluptuous, made up of curves, and instead of wet, black eyes, they have glowing colored ones, like gemstones.
With them are fae that look like the kind that attacked me—and those ones are all carrying spears. The dark-skinned ones aren’t carrying any kind of weapons, but I have no doubt that their magic could wipe us out in a heartbeat.
“Uh, greetings,” I say, when the fae guards just stare at me with their disconcertingly bright eyes, saying nothing. “I’m Gabbi Telford. I’m here to speak to the king, please. Uh, King Anzac?”
One fae creature pushes forward, and my throat squeezes tight.
It’s the one who attacked me.
The creature bows, but there’s something… not quite mocking about it, not exactly. More like knowing. It throws me off, making me feel like he’s having some kind of joke at my expense. “Ah, I told him you would come. I will lead you, yes, lead you right to our lord.”
There’s whispering among the fae in a language I don’t understand.
“Some form of ancient Gaelic,” Theo whispers to me.
“Can you understand it?”
He grimaces. “Eh. Not really.”
I don’t want to follow this fae creature. Not when it attacked me. But what choice do I have?
“Gabbi, are we sure about this?” Kasian whispers. “This asshole already attacked you once. He could do it again.”
“You got a better idea?” I ask. “Because I’m willing to hear it if you do. Seriously. Give it to me, I’m all ears.”
Kasian glares at the fae creature for a moment but doesn’t say anything more.
Cross and Theo exchange a look. “I’m not too thrilled about this whole thing, either,” Cross admits, pulling a face. “But you’re right, I’m not sure what other choice we have. These guys could take us out with a snap of their fingers, and we wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Neat. That’s a fun thought.
“All right,” I say, turning to the fae and hoping my voice doesn’t tremble. “Lead the way, then.”
The strange-looking creature gives me a sharkish smile and straightens up. “We are very glad the little miss has decided to come to us. The dull mistress, yes.” He cocks his head, as if second-guessing himself. “Or not so dull, we shall see. Come, then, come.”
He turns on his heel and begins to lead us into the city, over the bridge.
The fae part around us, just enough for us to move, but still close enough that I brush up against them as we walk through. They look fascinated, like they haven’t seen a human in decades, or centuries.
The bridge shimmers beneath us, like it’s not quite real and could dissipate with a snap of the fae’s fingers. I want to reach out and clutch at the guys, but I also don’t want to look as scared as I feel.
I’m not Roxie with her brash boldness, and the fae know that, but I’d like to hold onto at least some semblance of dignity here.
God knows they already have enough of an upper hand.
Chapter 24
As we enter the city, I expect, for some reason, that it’ll be eerily quiet. I haven’t heard much sound at all from the fae until now, and even though there was that low-key humming in the air, there wasn’t much else.
But no—the moment we step over, it’s as if we’ve breached a bubble, and there’s an explosion of sound and color.
All around us are fae of every type, the three kinds that I’ve seen already and many more that I haven’t. There are colorful market stalls, colored glass bubbles floating in the air, music and laughter, and a barrage of scents. Female fae—or at least, I think they’re female—wearing long, colorful pieces of cloth come up to us, running their hands over us, flirting with us.
Both the guys and I are told what kind of, well, highly sexual pleasures will await us if we go with them.
Our guide shoos those fae away, glaring at them. “It has been many years since they had humans,” he explains.
My eyebrows shoot up. “Had?”
“I’m pretty sure those were some kind of succubi,” Kasian whispers. “They feed off the sexual pleasure of others.”
Oh. Well, then.
Those aren’t the only fae who try to get our attention though. There are some who look like classic evil witches, with skin covered in boils and lumps, toothless grins, and matted gray hair. They wear cloaks, and their voices carry to us despite never talking above a whisper, coaxing us to try their wares, to become whatever we desire—admired, wealthy, beloved.
Others come up to us with potions, scrolls, jars, and other items, trying to get us to buy their products.
I notice that none of them a
sk for money, and something inside of me shrinks in fear at what they’ll ask for as payment instead. An eye? A happy memory from childhood? Ten years of servitude? My brain is suddenly and very unhelpfully recalling every fae deal I ever read about, either in our research over the last few days or in stories I read as a kid, and none of the options sound all that great.
“Excuse me?” I ask as we start to leave the market and make our way uphill on a winding path. “Where are the little fae? The children?”
Our guide peers back at me over his shoulder.
“Fae are long lived, oh yes, we are stars that burn and burn, not like humans who cycle like the moon, phases passed through easily every month. No, no. We live for centuries and centuries. Deaths are very rare. So are children.”
“Wait,” Theo says, “so you never… swap out a fae child for a human one?”
The fae looks aghast. “No. Our children are beloved. A fae child is cause for celebration. The whole city raises the child. The child is safe everywhere. ‘A hundred parents’ is the saying, oh yes, every fae child has a hundred parents. We would never give one up.”
A sly look enters his eyes. “But sometimes we are so hungry for children to raise that we may… steal…”
Holy fuck. I shudder.
I’m not a parent myself, but I do have a little brother, and if the fairies were to steal him—I don’t know what I’d do. March down here and try to steal him back, probably.
My thoughts must show on my face, because the fae laughs. “Oh, we always give them back. Humans grow so quickly. The moon waxes and wanes. We give them back when they are grown—but not the same, oh no, nobody is the same after living with the fae.”
Another shudder works through me, cold as ice, and I feel Cross and Kasian each take one of my hands, squeezing, before letting go.
That helps a little, reassures me. I’m not in this alone. I’ve got backup.