by May Sage
And friends.
Two. Just two friends. You have more here.
She sighed, irritated with herself for giving the matter more than a second thought. She was going home, and that was it.
The next morning, the first thing she said to Caim was, "Would it be an issue if Quentin wished to remain here?"
He was frowning when he looked at her.
Guessing he wanted details, Mel clarified, "He mentioned yesterday that he'd like to. One of his friends wants to put him up, so he wouldn't stay here at the palace, but…"
"It's fine," the lord replied, lowering his gaze down to his work. "I'll have identification worked out for him."
Identification. How very formal, and real. This wasn't just a fantasy world with flying faeries; they had to have IDs and jobs and houses.
"You're not staying though, are you?"
She shook her head. "No, I have—"
"Good." Caim’s reply was curt.
Well, if she hadn't made her mind up, that certainly would have settled the matter. Mel worked in silence for the rest of the day, and the day after that, and the days after those.
Some of the books were more complicated than others, with astral graphics and fundamental magic spells just as intricate as arithmetic and physics. But she worked through them as diligently as she could, broadening her understanding of this world, as well as her understanding of magic itself.
Mel couldn't keep herself from testing what she read about, when she was alone in the gardens without eyes on her.
Not just calling to the elements around her, but digging inside and using her own essence as an anchor for her powers. It was a lot more fun here, given how weak her hold over the water was. She still couldn’t call to the sea—just the golden rivers and lakes that were so useless.
Inner magic like that of the fae took practice, but she enjoyed it, turning her voice, her movements into spells like the fae did. Glamour, lull, enchantments. It had been described with many terms. She couldn't call herself an expert in that art, but as the days went by, she could call the wild beasts in the gardens closer and make them stand still. She could will her fatigue away. She could command herself to appear taller or smaller.
Quentin was right, a week of magic studies in Sidhe was worth a hundred years on Earth. But she did it to distract and entertain herself. Past the basic use for self-protection, she'd never cared about her own powers and wasn't going to start now.
"You know, you're probably strong enough to lift the spell now," said a voice in the darkness.
Mel should have been startled, but she'd long suspected that she was never truly alone.
Vlaryn stepped out into view, his expression hostile as ever.
"What spell?" she asked.
The fae was pointing at her—at her shoulder, to be exact.
Mel glanced at it. There was a mark on it. A little cross, uneven and darker than her skin by three or four shades. She'd had it as long as she could remember.
"That's a birthmark, not a spell."
Vlaryn shrugged. "Suit yourself."
He was already walking back to his hiding place.
"Hang on," she called back. "What makes you think I have a spell on me?"
He stilled. "When we first met, you told the boy you couldn't protect him; you meant that literally, right? You're compelled to act a certain way."
She attempted no reply.
“And you're also unable to talk about the specifics,” Vlaryn guessed. “Yeah, you're right. That doesn't sound like a spell at all. My bad.”
She frowned, shaking her head. It made no sense. "Why would anyone curse me like that?"
He tilted his head. "I don't know. My guess? It's about power. Everything generally is."
She didn't think she understood. "You mean, someone wanted to limit my powers?"
"I mean," he replied, "someone wanted to keep theirs. They saw what you could do, and put a muzzle on you before you learned you had fangs."
Mel opened her mouth, and closed it again. No, that wasn't right. It just…wasn't.
"Hey, you've lived that way for years. Don't sweat it. I'm sure you'll be just fine carrying on."
This time, he was gone before she managed to formulate a retort.
Her hand went to her shoulder, fingertips running along the mark.
She'd had it for so long. A small, irrelevant mark she didn't mind at all.
We're done with fighting. Mel remembered Calliope's expression when her mentor had said those words. No one else had stopped fighting lesson in their teens. Calliope had seemed…off. Concerned.
And then, long before that.
Memories swam through her mind. Hazy visuals, but the whispers came back to her as clear as the day she’d overheard them.
“Did that kid seriously give you all those bruises and a black eye? She's five! You should never have accepted her here.”
“Hey, it’s not her fault she was born that way. She deserves a chance. And I took care of it, anyway.”
What had her mentor meant by that? I took care of it. How had she taken care of the fact Mel had been so very strong as a child?
She couldn’t say. Searching her memory before and after that, she found nothing.
Mel shook her head.
She was getting a headache.
Into the Woods
Two centuries ago
* * *
There were children in the park, laughing and playing together. Passing by, she saw one of them fall and cry for his mother.
Mel watched the scene unfold with fascination. They were so very weak. And happy. And precious.
She looked up to the beautiful creature with dark skin and silken silver locks. Her sister, mother, teacher. The person she trusted most.
"Why can't I call you Mama, Calliope?"
The muse smiled. "Because I'm not your mother, and pretending otherwise would do you a disservice. It might feel nice to have a mama now, little girl, but in twenty years, you will be grown up. And so you will remain for the rest of time."
Mel nodded. She knew she was immortal. Having a mama telling her off when she was hundreds of years old didn't sound like fun.
"The woman who bore your name before lived to be a thousand years old."
Mel frowned. "Someone had my name?"
She didn't understand the concept. In Aeaea, everyone's name was different, and seemed to only belong to them.
"Yes. I gave you the name of one of my most beautiful and talented sisters."
Scrunching up her nose to comprehend it, Mel asked, "So it's someone else's name. Do I have one of my own?"
Calliope tilted her head. "I wonder. Perhaps your parents did name you before sending you to us. I didn't ask. If they didn't want you, they don’t deserve to name you."
Mel nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. And she grew to love her name, never again wondering whether she'd ever borne another one.
Mel woke up with a frown. It had been so long since she’d dreamed at all. That memory was one she hadn’t thought of for some time.
She got dressed and headed down to Caim’s office, her steps as heavy as her heart.
Six months. A month and a half.
Who knew time could have flown so fast?
This was the last time she’d work for him.
"What does one wear for the feast?" Mel asked Caim, just to start a conversation.
She was idle today. She had ten hours left and only one book to go through.
Tonight was her last night in Sidhe. A week ago, she would have been conflicted about it. Sad to leave this world she'd grown to like. Now, she was sullen and impatient. She knew where her first stop would be: Aeaea. She had questions that demanded answers.
But first, tonight there was the festival of Beltane, a bonfire that happened between the spring equinox and the summer solstice. The fae liked to find random reasons to party. She was glad of it; at least she'd see one real fae holiday before leaving.
"It doesn't matter much
,” he replied. “Most end up without many clothes by the end of it."
She laughed. "Do you plan on ending up naked, then?"
Caim had started running through the books she'd marked—his progress was making her look like a barely literate idiot. He was reading at least fifty per hour; though, she supposed he only had to check out her notes. "I have, many a time in the past. There's something about fae dances, and music around the raths. But I'm not attending tonight's event. I'll be traveling."
She lifted a brow. "Oh?"
She had no other words.
Mel had counted on seeing him tonight. Not really talking to him or anything, just seeing him have fun. She'd wondered whether he'd let his guard down. Jesus. She looked away, suddenly realizing she had a serious crush on the guy. A wiser woman might have noticed sooner, but it was a first for her.
Right, the book. She tried to read, but couldn't seem to comprehend the last sentence, so she read it again, and again, four times in a row. Her mind was entirely elsewhere.
"I'll be back before you leave. I'll see you off."
She nodded. "Thank you."
This stilted conversation was killing her. She bit her lip, and forced herself to concentrate on what she was reading.
There was a knock at his office doors, and without being invited to, Rhedrek walked in. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."
“You are, so make it quick.” Caim’s tone was light and friendly, though his words hadn’t been.
"My apologies, but this couldn't wait." He glared at Mel. "Could we speak without witnesses?"
Mel moved to get to her feet, just as Caim replied, "No. She has a job to do here. Besides, she'll be on her way to Earth by tomorrow afternoon. It matters not what she hears."
The advisor obviously didn't share his opinion, but he didn't protest. “You know what happened to Nera is still an ongoing investigation.”
Caim's expression was as unreadable as ever, but Mel saw ice harden his gray eyes, and she knew.
Nera was his sister. The one time his eyes had flashed this way was when he’d lent Mel her watch.
Mel glared at Red, resenting him for even bringing her up.
"Well, we might finally have answers. A smuggler said he'd seen a woman fitting her description around the time of the last war with Iron. Of course, I didn’t put much stock in it, until he showed me this."
Red held out a necklace. At her first glance, Mel recognized it. It went with the watch in her pocket, gold with blue accents underneath.
Caim was on his feet, striding toward his friend, reaching out for the object almost reverently. He looked up to the man, all irritation gone from his features.
"The smuggler is from Iron. He says he'll give us information, time, place, the people involved in her disappearance, for the right price. But he needs discretion."
Something felt wrong.
Too…convenient. Too mysterious. The story wasn't believable at all. But fae couldn't lie, and Caim didn't question Rhedrek, nodding.
"Can it be now? I'm traveling this afternoon."
"I said as much. He named the sacred forest, as no one enters it without the regent's leave."
Mel had so many protests on her lips, but Caim was already gone.
She remained in her chair, eyes on her book. Finishing it was important. She should…she ought to…
"Vlaryn?" Mel called, deciding to at the very least talk things through with someone.
She felt too uneasy to ignore her gut feeling.
There was nothing at first. Then a secret door on the wall moved, and the fae stepped in. "You know I'm not the only guard on duty. Sometimes, I even sleep."
Funny that he'd said guard and not spy. Had he followed her all this time to know what she was doing, or to protect her?
"Not today, apparently." Thankfully. "What were those woods Red talked about?"
“The sacred forest? In every city, there’s a place connected to the world tree where nothing may be built—so as to connect us to the heart of Sidhe at all times. No fae may enter it. Only the regent and whoever has his explicit blessing, and only an hour at a time. Its magic is unbreakable, and so strong that once inside, we can’t really use our own."
Mel got to her feet. This felt so wrong. Like a setup. Meeting in a place where no one could use magic or come to Caim’s aid if needed?
She started to pace the room.
Was she being paranoid?
"What would happen if someone got rid of Caim?"
Vlaryn paused. "A tournament that his cousin, Cassian, would likely win."
Talking things through was supposed to clear and appease her mind, but as the knight answered her questions, her anxiety increased. "Would he win against Rhedrek?"
The fae had caught on to what she meant, she could see it in his expression. "Rhedrek is a much stronger swordsman than Cassian. But he didn't compete last time."
"I see. And would he be sure to win against Caim?"
"I’m not quite certain. With his magic, Caim might have an edge. This…isn't a bad theory, but it makes no sense, Mel. Rhedrek has said, many times, clearly, that he had no interest in politics."
"Sure. But what if he could lie?"
Red had always disturbed her, made her feel like he was different. And his story just now? It was far too convenient for her to buy it. If he could have lied about the smuggler and all that, he could have lied about anything.
Caim had explained the difference between fae and Aos Si a while back, and from Mel’s reading, only actual Aos Si were bound by the oaths that prevented them from lying. Most of the fae of Sidhe had a high content of Aos Si blood, so it was normal that they’d inherited that limit.
But what if Red was something else?
Vlaryn's lips were thin. "Nothing I can do now. Any fae would have to remain at the border of the forest, as surely as if there was a wall of steel barring our way. And anyway, Caim can take care of himself."
But he wasn't thinking clearly, not when it came to his sister. Everything else was carefully planned and analyzed with him, but he'd raced forward like a bull at the mere mention of Nera.
"Good thing I'm no fae. Come on. Lead the way."
Though Vlaryn didn't share her suspicions about Red, he did walk her to the edge of the woods at a fast pace. They crossed the river behind the keep's gardens and jogged along a path until they'd reached a strange light wood where every tree was white, with pale leaves and gold grass.
"That's as far as I can go without Caim's leave," the knight said as they reached the grass.
Mel nodded, and walked forward, her boots hitting the golden ground without issue.
"Mel?" Vlaryn called.
She turned. "Whether you're right or not…you care about him. And that will not be forgotten."
She smiled. "He's been nice. You all have. I certainly will never forget Sidhe either. Not if I live ten thousand years."
He grinned, waving at her back as she ran through the woods, listening to the energy around her. It was potent, heavy and overwhelming. The very ground of the forest seemed to demand her submission, wanting to keep her in check.
She sent a wave of energy right back, bidding the damn woods to leave her alone. She was no fae. The magic of this world wasn’t designed to hinder her.
Locating someone as powerful as Caim—or Red—was never hard. Anyone's instinct was aware of threats, predators. But she hadn't expected to feel him so easily, as if he had a beacon tied to his neck.
So, she ran, and ran, and ran.
The woods weren't large. They skirted a high cliff ending at the edge of the sea on the coast. Mel could feel the air change as she grew closer, and soon, she could hear them.
A fight. Grunts and the sound of swords, screams of the dead, curses of the living.
Red’s voice rang clear through the woods. "You will not win this. There's two dozen of us and one of you, Caim. Don't you wish to pass in peace?"
Shit! She hated, hated, hated being right, this time.
"Why are you doing this?” Caim sounded strained, tired, and above all, confused. “You could have had everything you wanted. We're friends!” Now his voice had risen to a shout. “Have I ever denied anything you've ever wished for?"
Red's laughter was acid. "A king does not beg for what belongs to him. I am son of Fin Varra, grandson of Queen Titania. Ruling is my birthright."
That made no sense to Mel. Varra, the banished king, had a son? Shouldn’t Caim know that?
In the distance, his voice sounded as surprised as she was. “What?”
“Varra had his fun with my mother before his banishment. Enough fun to produce me. From my first breath, I’ve felt a connection to our world that you can’t even dream of. I can control the tree. I am the rightful high king!”
"Then take your kingdom! Why this? Why are you trying to get rid of me?"
All pertinent questions, and Mel was grateful for them, because as long as they talked above the brouhaha of the clashing swords, she knew he was alive, still fighting.
She drew closer. The voices became louder. Just a little longer…
"Right. I should just do that, then. Sit on the throne and wait for the regents to circle me like vultures and banish or kill me, as they did to Titania and Fin! One banished to Tartarus, the other one to Earth. I will not make the same mistake. I will destroy every single threat before I take my place in this world."
Oh, for heaven's sake, the man was a psycho.
Mel ran faster and faster, not questioning what she meant to do when she got there. She couldn't protect anyone. She couldn't. She'd be useless. But she had to get to Caim nonetheless.
Words and Souls
Caim knew his odds, and they weren't good. Whoever these strangers were, following Red blindly, dying for him, they were good. Too good. Most of them could have fought against Vlaryn and won.
They were too many, and all were armed with iron. One had plunged his blade in his shoulder, and while Caim had avoided most of the arrows shot at him, one had found its mark, hitting him in the back. He could be wrong, but the tip might have been spelled. He'd felt weaker—slower—since.