“If I told you simply, you’d kill me.”
“How?” Aurea stomped within two feet of me, and a flicker of panic crossed Daryl’s eyes. She lifted her dagger, poising it close enough that I could hear the hum of the metal whistling in my ears. “You had no right to take her.”
My teeth bared. “I have always had every right.” Swallowing, I stepped back, away from the sting of her blade. “I have not taken her, but I know where she is.”
“Where?” Daryl met Aurea and subtly clutched her wrist to keep her from following my retreat.
Everything about this place made me dizzy. “You must understand that you cannot reach her.”
“We won’t make a deal with you.” Hatred burned in Aurea’s eyes. It was an animal I had seen before in Mabilia’s whenever she mentioned me.
“No, I suppose you’ve learned that lesson. Third time’s the charm?” I smirked, knowing it was no pretty thing. Sweating and shaking and ashen, I knew I looked more dead than alive the longer I inhaled poison. “I don’t want a deal; I require a request.”
“How do we know no magic pollutes your request?”
“I suppose you’ll just have to decide what’s more important: the risk or your daughter.”
When I grinned, a shiver cut through Aurea. Fear she had masked well piled upon her in droves, but she clung to nothing save her own dagger, and had she not become something despicable, I might have commended her.
“What do you want?” Even Daryl’s voice shook, and Aurea’s head whipped to him, her eyes wide.
“After I’ve saved her, allow me three days with her, outside this cage.”
“No.” Aurea shook her head. “Absolutely not. Three days with you? She’s young. One wrong word, one accidental bargain…”
“Mabilia is precious.” The word hissed out through my bared teeth. “Any in my court would die for laying a hand on her or for attempting to contract with her. I do not intend to bargain, and she is far too wise to fall into one anyway.”
“We can’t trust you.” Daryl narrowed his eyes. “How can we trust she will be returned to us exactly as she left?”
I licked my dry lips and pretended my throat wasn’t parched. “What’s more important?” I repeated darkly. “The risk, or your daughter?”
I BREATHED A SIGH of relief as I stepped into Mabilia’s room, her parents trailing me, blades ready. The saturation of iron felt like a thousand ants had taken residence beneath my skin; they crawled, leaving bites on my muscles, but in Mabilia’s chamber, some of the pain eased.
Every surface, every wall, every scrap that could be had been coated in vibrant colors. Vines crawled up her iron bed, which she had painted bark brown with a likeness the dryads would acclaim. Lilies floated atop her dresser, rushing off the drawers in torrents of waterfalls. The paint made from minerals, herbs, and petals softened the deadly hints of metal.
I loved her room. It provided me a portal into the future, a mere glimpse, but more than enough to keep me going.
“Why are we here?” Aurea narrowed her eyes when I faced her. “She’s not in her bedroom. Of course we checked her bedroom.”
“Yes,” I murmured, my patience thinning, “I suppose you checked as a human would. Under the bed. In the closet. True fae don’t hide in grotesque locations like that.”
“Lia is human,” Aurea gritted. “Don’t group her with the likes of you.”
“How soon we forget that our own blood is tainted.” I meandered away from the woman and ran a finger down the soft face of the stuffed bear laying on Mabilia’s bed. As perfect as the day I’d given it to her when she was four, its glass eyes shimmered with the enchantment that would never let it grow old. So much love fed the innocent gift, and brushing it even with gloved hands sent a chill through me.
She recalled the day she thought she created me so fondly?
“You’re wasting time, faerie.” Daryl lifted his blade and pointed it at me from where he stood at the door. “Where is my daughter?”
“I’m providing her several more moments of peace, perhaps.” Licking my lips, I grinned at Aurea. “You held the most of me. We were close during the years leading up to your awakening. Do you remember it? The nightmare and the pain?”
She paled, taking a stilted breath. “It was around this age…”
“Yes.”
“But she’s been able to talk with animals since she was an infant! And we noticed her using glamour on the guards—”
“The bare minimum qualities of most fae. It is rare any aren’t born with such.”
“She is not fae!” Tears filled Aurea’s eyes; she trained them not to fall. “She’s nothing like you! She’s mine! My little girl. You can’t take her from me physically or in spirit.”
“Quite the wording.” For her sake, I tamed my smile. “To be sincere, she is neither wholly human, nor wholly faerie. The one thing she does happen to be, however, is my spirit. Her awakening was as explosive as mine was, if I can recall so long ago. She’s found herself lost in the power.” I turned to the walls of her bedroom. Endless layers of fields and forests and distant grey-blue mountains delved past the metal plates, deeper and deeper, until it appeared as though an entire world lay in the picture.
“You don’t mean…” Daryl stared at the painting, lifting his hand to press against it.
“Explain,” Aurea hissed.
“Well, she splintered. The painting caught her when she came back together and—”
“No, about how she’s your spirit. What have you done?” Rage bubbled in her eyes.
My fangs glinted. I pinned Aurea with my stare and tilted my head. “How clever. You have grown—a shame it had to be through preparation for war.”
“Answer me, Rumpelstiltskin. Your magic lives in us, not anything else.”
“Correction: my magic evolved in you both. And half my soul slumbered in your womb. You gave birth to the half of my soul I cleaved from myself.” Humor set aside, I let a whisper of breath past my lips. “I need her back.”
Howling, I leaped away from Daryl’s blade, clasping my throat where the barest brush had skimmed my flesh. Blood, blackened and on fire, covered my gloved hand when I pulled it back to see the damage. I seethed at him.
He stood tall, daring me to face him. “Even if this is the case, she is no longer yours.”
“How dare you,” I hissed. “She has always been mine. Always. You have never been more than the vessels for her realization. And while I can’t have her, you must know that I love her. I love her like a final breath. I adore her. She is precious and good, and of all the things in this world, she has what remains of my heart.”
“What does a monster like you know of love?” Aurea regarded me coldly, venom in her stare. My injury bolstered her courage, and the disdain on her face was repulsive.
I snarled, “What could a human like you know of monsters?”
The standoff led neither of us anywhere, and I didn’t know how deep Mabilia had gone into her world. I could waste no more time. “I need you to know that no harm will come to her. I need you to promise me my time with her. And I need you to protect this mural while I fetch her, because if anything happens to this,” I pointed at the wall painted with vibrant blues and greens, “we will both perish.” Ripping off my bloody glove, I extended my hand. “Swear the picture remains untouched until we emerge together, and swear my reward of three days with her.”
He didn’t flinch. “There’s a world in there, and if you do suppose you care for her, I don’t want you to trap her in it. Swear you’ll return her as swiftly as you can manage.”
The nerve of him suggesting I would trap her, while we stood in her iron cage. I growled. “Whatever it seems, it is only paint. We can neither eat nor drink in that realm. I will not swear to return her as swiftly as you may like, but I will swear she won’t starve.”
Daryl looked at Aurea, who shook, covering her mouth. When she blinked, tears traced down her cheeks to disappear beneath her hand, but she no
dded. Daryl clasped my hand.
Ice crawled up his arm, and I didn’t relinquish my grip. He never relinquished my stare. Pulling me nearer, ice linking our limbs together, he whispered, “She is not yours. You gave her up. Realize that, faerie, and return her to us.”
“If you weren’t her father,” I whispered crudely, crushing his bones, “I would at the very least take this arm from you.” Shoving him aside, I released him, and the ice vanished as quickly as it had come. I stepped before the mural, glancing at Aurea. She hadn’t been expecting me to look at her again, and the terror she had kept hidden lay clear on her face. Despite myself, I pitied her. “She will be safe,” I murmured, though spite still filled my voice, and I wasn’t sure how comforting the words sounded.
I didn’t bother waiting for a reply as I stepped into the universe settled upon her walls of iron, so close to the death and yet I never skimmed it as I set foot upon lush fields.
The paint shivered where I stood, and I glanced behind myself at a box depicting Mabilia’s bedroom as though each wall were a mirror peering into the still frame. The strange structure was the only one in sight.
I felt her in my chest, a gentle beat of breath, but she did not stir. If our roles were reversed, I wouldn’t be found in a field of green; I’d be hidden atop a mountain peak, basking in snow and ice.
Fixing my gaze on the distant frosty crags, a forlorn smile tipped my lips. “Hello, darling…” Sunlight, which wasn’t sunlight at all, streamed from beyond the crest in an eternal dawn. I went toward it, staining my boots along the way with residual paint. The land was bright, cheerful, and everlasting; would this be how it looked when she made the world for us?
After what might have been hours of walking, I skirted the edge of a quiet, dark forest and began climbing the grey stone dusted with white. Unusual weeping buds that looked almost like feathered wings sprang from the cracks, bobbing on a gentle breeze as though they could fly away. The breeze harshened the further I climbed, beckoning me forward, drawing me farther from the portal home. It pressed against my back, then filled with snow.
The snow was still, unmoving, hanging in the air like a million twinkling lights. My breath held when I came around a bend, catching sight of a silk nightgown beneath a willow. She fit perfectly in the space. So perfectly that she could have been painted there herself.
Ice crystals splintered designs over her skirts, flakes clinging to her cheeks and lashes. It wasn’t cold here, but she shuddered in rest, as though she sensed my approach.
I crouched beside her, hesitant. All these years, I had wanted nothing more than to touch her, but I was afraid. Was she cold, like me? Warm? Would she know instantly what I was? Or would fate spare me a moment, just a moment, before hate pooled in her eyes, and she wanted nothing to do with me?
“Mabilia,” I whispered, touching her covered shoulder and shaking her gently. “Come, Princess, it’s time.”
She moaned, curling deeper in on herself, then she squinted at me. Relief etched her blue eyes, and her lips parted. “My faerie,” she said, breathless. Her eyes watered, and she gripped my sleeve. “Oh, my faerie. You’re back. What happened to me?” Her choked laugh broke my heart. “I was so scared. No wonder I couldn’t call you.” Tears fell, and they dropped like crystals down her cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re here now. I’ve been so alone.” Her breaths were short, and I knew she was still terrified.
“You awakened,” I said. “It happens to all the fae when they reach a certain age. For most, it isn’t at all pleasant.”
She laughed, the bubbly sound choked. “Silly faerie, I’m not fae.” Rubbing her eyes, she pushed herself slowly up, then froze, staring around her. “Where… Am I outside?” Excitement filled her voice a second before fleeing. She paled. “Oh…oh, no.” She scrambled for anything she could find, but no twigs or leaves marred the perfect scene.
“We’re in the painting on your wall.” And I’m really a faerie. And you hate me.
Surprise widened her gaze, but she calmed, perusing the scenery. Dragging a hand through her dark hair, she nodded. “Oh…right. Yes, I seem to remember…” She wet her lips, and looked at her hands. Stained white, they barely appeared any different than normal. She brought one to her face and sniffed, then she bit her lip, holding onto a laugh.
“It doesn’t smell like iron.” Peering at me, she teased, “I’m sure you love that, mister faerie. I have absolutely tortured you over the years.”
I smiled with her. “It’s been worth it.” Using my still-gloved hand, I reached to pin a straying lock of hair behind her ear.
Her brows crashed down, and I jerked back when she reached for me instead. “What’s that?” she asked. “On your throat.” Her narrowed eyes muddled with confusion. “Are you injured? How…”
I touched my neck, having completely forgotten the wound during my trek across painted fields.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, trying to make sense of something she thought could only be her fault. “Is that a reflection of the way I feel? It looks so painful, and I thought I was doing better.” Her face twisted. “Who am I kidding? I don’t need to be strong for you. Everything hurts, my faerie. Everything.” She sagged, lying back against the snow like she would stay there forever.
I only wish we could. Lying beside her, I stared up at the delicate icicles hanging in the trees and breathed softly, treasuring every moment, milking time for as long as it would give me. “Shall I carry you home?” I asked, looking at her.
She tilted her head to face me and touched my hand. Her fingers curled around my glove, and she smiled. “Don’t voice those thoughts. I know my family is probably worried about me, and I should go home, but I don’t want to. Can I stay here with you forever instead?”
My wish on her tongue crushed me. Why couldn’t we just remain together here, forever? My head shook, and I squeezed her fingers. I was far too reliant on her. I knew that. But souls weren’t meant to be rent in pieces, and I didn’t have the luxury of a human half to sew me up. It was time. “My princess, I have to tell you something. When I have, you’ll hate me, but you must promise you’ll go back to your parents with me afterwards.”
“How could I hate you, my faerie?” The way her brows lowered and her lips curved down proved how much she believed those words. I was all she had. This was cruel, to both of us, but it was unavoidable.
“You must promise,” I whispered.
“Of course. Anything for you.”
I traced the bemused frown perfectly carved upon her lips with my eyes, then I restrained myself. Lifting my scarred, bare hand—which she had yet to notice—to her cheek, I pressed my lips against her forehead. The touch sighed through me, easing every ache, every pain. For the briefest moment, I was whole again. Whole and then some.
The emptiness. The heartache. The loneliness. It all echoed in me and was washed clean with the cool brush of her skin. Tears pooled in my eyes the second I felt the snap of realization whip against my spirit. Goodbye, my love.
She wrenched away from me, tearing her hand out of mine. Shock, panic, and terror exploded on her face. She flicked her gaze between my eyes, looked at my scarred hand, then snatched my wrist. “No,” she stated. Yanking me upright, she tore off my other glove and went deathly still when she spotted the iron ring bearing a seal she knew all too well. Her head shook, her mouth hanging open. “No, this is just a continuation of the nightmare. There’s no way you’re… You can’t be.” Her words suffocated in her throat, and a sobbing gasp tore through her chest. She covered her mouth, holding onto every tear filling her eyes. “What is this…”
“Mabilia…” I reached for her.
“Shut up!” The world around us quaked, and icicles hit the ground in splatters of paint. “I hate my name! You know that! I hate it because of you.”
Once, when she was too young to know, she hadn’t hated her name. Then her parents told her the truth about it. And the seed of fear they had already stirred in her heart sprouted into hatr
ed. That hatred tainted everything. As it had to.
Blackness creeped out of the corners of her painting, and I stood. “We have to go. Now.”
“No. I’m not going anywhere with you! How could you do this to me? What kind of filthy, horrid monster are you?” She blinked and could no longer hold back the tears. Panting breaths filled her chest, and the darkness in the distant edges of the painted world crawled closer, abiding by their mistress. “Has everything, everything, been a lie? This whole time?” Her voice gradually pitched. Things began falling apart faster; branches shriveled; the ground quaked; snow as white as lilies bled black like ash. “My parents! My grandparents! You tortured my mother! Killed my family!” She shrieked, “I trusted you! How can you be him!”
“You thought I was nothing more than an imaginary friend. You trusted yourself.” I swallowed, my fists tight.
“You let me believe that lie, and no doubt made sure I did.” She stood, swaying slightly, but swatted my hand when I tried to steady her. “You let me believe it, and you were my friend. My only friend!” The world settled, for the moment, and her tears rushed in icy shards toward the ground, watering the painted snow until it looked like little more than a murky puddle. “How could you be so evil as to trick me like this? You’re worse than I could have possibly imagined.” She glanced around us. “And that’s saying something, isn’t it?”
My chest clenched.
“Is this where you kill me, then?” she asked, none of the playfulness that had once accompanied those words remaining. “Or has this sick game been fun enough?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Shoving past me, she started down the mountain path, her arms wrapped tight around her waist.
The darkness on the outskirts writhed, beginning to swell like a tumor, and I had no choice but to follow her silently. I could find no words to say to comfort her or explain myself. In the end, her hating me would be mercy, and I had tormented her long enough.
I KEPT MY DISTANCE, watching Mabilia sob in her mother’s arms. Aurea had no idea why her daughter was crying, but she pinned me with an unshakeable, icy glare, promising if it were my fault, I would pay. I fully intended to bear the cost of everything I had done, but now was not when my debt would settle.
Kingdom of Villains and Vengeance Page 28