Daryl kissed Mabilia’s head, then raised his blade to my neck. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you now.”
“You can’t,” I stated. My voice sounded hollow to my ears, but that didn’t matter. “There’s a contract between us; you can do me no harm until it is fulfilled.”
He dared to test my words, thrusting cold steel toward my throat, but his arm froze, and he gasped, yanking the weapon back. His hand spasmed, and the blade clattered against the tiled floor.
“Papa,” Mabilia squeaked, whirling toward him.
“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “So, this was your plan.”
I droned, “Shall we call it a happy side effect?”
Mabilia glared at me, and I dropped my gaze to the sword on the floor. It shone purple in the dusk.
“What contract did you force my parents into this time?” she sneered. “Haven’t you done enough harm, my faerie?” Spite laced those words, those words that had always been so tender, and agony sliced through me.
“I would have three days with you,” I answered, monotone. “I have done everything with a purpose, and it’s time you know what it is.”
“And if I don’t care?” she spat.
“For breaking a contract like this one, I would have access to your father’s soul.”
Her hard mask faltered, and she looked at her father, eyes wide and questioning. He couldn’t meet her gaze.
Calculation returned to her eyes, and she raised her head. “You said you would have access, but that doesn’t mean—”
I scoffed, cutting my clever girl off. Forcing my disdain to transform into a laugh, I bared my teeth in a wild grin. “You hate me. Isn’t it interesting how you hate me? All your life and even before you were born, it has been your parents selling you to me. If anyone deserves hatred, it’s the fools who think they own you simply because they’ve brought you unknowingly into this world.”
“You didn’t give us a choice! How else were we going to get her out of there?” Aurea threw a hand toward the now-charred mural. “And you promised no harm would come to her. We made sure.”
“Right.” I smirked. “Trust me over your daughter’s ability to exit a land she made.”
“You bastard,” Daryl growled. He pinned his gaze on Mabilia, then clenched his fists. “But you’re right. I won’t play this part in my daughter’s life. Take my soul instead.”
“Papa, no! You can’t just…” Mabilia’s wide eyes flickered with understanding, and a deeper hatred brewed.
Sweet, sweet words spoken in haste. I shifted my gaze to Mabilia, hating the expression on her face, the knowledge of everything I’d just done clear in the repulsion etched in her eyes. Pulling faux grace into play, I extended my hand in a bow. “Your turn, darling.”
“Three days?” She folded her arms, and defiance always became her. “Fine. We’ve spent years together. What is another three days of torture?”
“Years?” Aurea looked between us, her breath short.
“Years,” I repeated solemnly. With my energy depleted, all theatrics disappeared. “Send her straight through the mines at dawn alone. I will retrieve her there and return her when the time is up.” I paused before leaving, plucked the iron ring off my finger, and held it out to Aurea with now-shaking hands. “This has served its purpose, and I believe it was precious to you.”
“I don’t want that anymore,” she whispered, not removing her gaze from it.
“Lies don’t become you, child.” I dropped the trinket, and she jerked to catch it. Before the metal touched her skin, I was gone.
Chapter 4
How It All Comes Together
Mythalzen clopped beside me through the tunnel, his bright eyes taking in everything around us with all the maturity of an infant. “I wonder if she’ll be nice to other faeries,” he mused, pinning his arms behind his back. “What do you think? Do you think she’ll need persuasion to like other faeries, or will she automatically give us a chance?”
“I think it would be wise if you didn’t speak anymore.” Nightmares had plagued the little sleep I was able to attain, and I couldn’t tolerate dwelling on the reality of this situation. She needed to like my people if they were to become hers. She needed to hate me if they were to survive.
“I understand you’re grumpy this morning, but when you introduce us, can you at least try to smile? I want to make a good impression, and you’re making me nervous.” He offered me a sheepish grin speckled with concern, and I sighed.
Keeping my shaking hands in my pockets, I shook my head. “You’re unbelievable, Mythalzen.”
“Thank you, Lord Rumpelstiltskin.” His chest pumped like “unbelievable’ was all he aspired to be, then he stilled.
Gentle footsteps came toward us, and I watched as Mabilia entered our view. Head held high, she peered down the channel haughtily, until she caught sight of my companion, who for some ungodly reason had sidestepped behind me.
“How old do you think you are?” I hissed at him.
Genuine fear flashed in his eyes. “But, my lord…she’s wearing iron.”
Mabilia stopped where she was, a small bag gripped tight before her. She wore simple cloth attire beneath light-weight armor, and her gaze swept over us. “I came alone. Why didn’t you?”
The scorn in her voice cut me to my core, reminding me again that our gentle days together were gone. “For what purpose would I need to come alone when I’m taking you into my home full of fae?”
Her gaze dropped. “Right.” A quiver of fear touched her breath, but she remained hard as stone. “What sort of creature is he?”
My jaw tightened. “This creature is Mythalzen, my ward.”
“You have a ward?” Surprise shattered some of the hardness in her features. “Why didn’t you ever…” She bit her tongue, wincing. Of course I never told her. Our relationship was not one where she thought she could know me.
“N-nice to meet you?” Mythalzen smiled thinly and waved.
“His father committed unforgivable acts and was sentenced to death. By law, he should have followed, but I am the law among my people and would not see it happen.”
Mythalzen rubbed his head and kicked at the dusty cavern ground. “My dad rutted a deer, and usually such offspring is born deformed, but Lord Rumpelstiltskin spared me because I came out with sense.”
I side-eyed him. “Yet nowhere near enough.”
Mablia ran her gaze over him, swallowing. “You’re part deer and…?”
“Satyr. Naturally.” He laughed, his large ears wiggling. “What else would have the nerve to f—” Wisely, he cleared his throat and glanced at me. “Well, you know.”
“Yes,” I grumbled, “we all know too much now. I was going to leave things where I left them.” I gestured toward him and met Mabilia’s somewhat softened eyes. “My half-deer, half-satyr, all-mouth ward. Despite his heritage, you can rely on him if you need anything.”
He bowed fully. “At your service, My Queen.”
All hardness returned in an instant, and she pinned me with a glare, stepping forward. “Queen? What exactly do you plan to do with me these three days, Rumpelstiltskin?” Her eyes flicked to my head and narrowed. “I see you wear your crown now. How becoming of a faerie king.”
Mythalzen’s breath held when I frowned at him, and he remained bowed.
“You are the future, Princess. This is a plea for peace, nothing more.”
“Perhaps you should have thought about peace before you murdered my grandfather, Dale’s king,” she spat.
“I did.” When she paled in the dim light, I regretted my dark tone.
“Grandfather?” Mythalzen’s brows lowered, and he peeked out of his bow. “Was that the one who beat your mother or the one who tried to marry her?”
“What?” Mabilia shot Mythalzen a look that made his tail tuck.
He stepped back. “W-well, the one who beat her, he’s still—”
“That’s enough,” I growled. “Should I plan next
time to keep you locked up when I have important business to tend to?”
Ears pinning, his face morphed into something between a pout and a deadpan. “She started it.”
“And I haven’t finished it. What does he mean? Is one of my grandfathers still alive?” She stepped forward once again, and Mythalzen backed farther behind me.
“He is not a man you wish to meet,” I stated. Before she could protest, I lifted my hand and narrowed my eyes. “Come along now. We can discuss this later if you choose, but we can’t be late now.”
Her chin lifted, repulsion burning in her stare. “I don’t want to discuss this later, I—”
“Please, Lady Mab,” Mythalzen peered around me, his golden eyes no doubt large and innocent, “we’ve all worked hard on your welcome party.”
She hesitated, her delicate brows furrowing. “But…why a welcome party…?”
“Because we are fae.” Turning, I ushered Mythalzen to begin his trot back the way we had come, keenly aware Mabilia followed us. Her light breaths filled the tunnel, each one short but controlled. No doubt fear and confusion melded upon her brow. Everything she would witness once we broke into the forest would be new. Wind would tangle her hair. Snow would crunch beneath her boots and melt on her skin.
She would love it. But would she let that love show? Would I ever see that tender emotion on her face again?
Mythalzen danced out of the cavern, throwing his arms wide to the dawn. “Hello, my beautiful woods!” he called into the trees. One of his kin jerked from behind a bush and scampered off. He blinked after the creature. “Strange. Generally the does love me.”
“Is it my fault then?” Mabilia asked, emerging shortly after us from the rocky edifice. Her eyes darted, missing nothing, and a breeze caressed her hair against her cheeks. She stilled, lifting a hand from her bag as though she could catch the wind.
“No,” I murmured, watching her, “the idiot barreled out of a cave, shouting. Very few animals wouldn’t run from that.”
Poison touched her gaze when she glanced at me, and she dropped her hand. The wind stuttered and halted, obeying her mood, though nothing on her face depicted she knew what she had done. “A pity you’re still here then. Which hovel are you bringing me to?”
“It’s more of a pit,” Mythalzen mused, ignoring her tone. He drew a low-hanging branch near him and sniffed the pine needles, scrunching his nose. “I wish we lived in a hovel. I think that would be cool.”
“Mostly only ogres or trolls live in hovels,” I clarified.
Mabilia combed her fingers back through her hair and trained her lips into a perfect circle. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m still not clear on exactly what you are, Rumpelstiltskin. Is ‘ogre’ or ‘troll’ not correct?”
“Your jeers are petty and childish and not at all befitting of you, Princess.” I provided her a wry smile. “Would you treat me in the same way the young ladies of the court have treated you?”
Ice trickled into her expression, and she straightened her back, effectively masking a flicker of hurt. “You deserve far worse. Consider it a kindness I haven’t sunk an iron blade into your chest already.”
A bitter taste filled my mouth. “You’re better than that, Mabilia. You’re better than me. You don’t need iron to inflict pain, and you don’t want to either.”
“Nothing will change.” Her fists clenched. “You know that, don’t you? Even if I see your people and return home singing their praises, nothing will change. Dale has no love for me.”
“They’d say you were enchanted,” I murmured.
She nodded shortly. “Only a unified hatred of the fae has kept peace within the glass for centuries. There is no hope for what you want. None. I’m telling you now, because you’re right; I’m not you. I won’t lead you along then take everything away in an instant.”
“My dear, you don’t yet have a clue what I want.”
“This is very cute to watch.” Mythalzen broke the tension between us and rocked on his hooves. “Really. I’ve never seen Lord Rumpelstiltskin flirt before. But we’re still expected in the throne chamber, so…”
Mabilia’s eyes widened, and she dropped her gaze before color touched her pale cheeks. My heart skipped.
“To the pit,” she mumbled, pushing past me as though she knew the way.
Mythalzen jumped back, his hands up, and looked at me before glancing at her iron garments.
“Princess, be careful near my people. A brush of your clothes is toxic to them.” I ignored Mythalzen’s recoil as he shot me a look of shock, but I couldn’t strip her of the thin protection she wore. Even I didn’t trust most of my faeries, and I wouldn’t expect her to. No one would have any reason to touch her anyway.
“I’ll be careful.” She turned to Mythalzen. “Does it hurt you at this distance?”
His ears pinned and his tail tucked. “It smells. It’s dizzying and putrid.”
“But it doesn’t hurt unless there’s a lot more or we touch it.”
Mabilia glared at me, sneering. “I suppose now I know why you always wore gloves and never once touched me. It’s a wonder you never wore a mask. I must reek of poison.”
A breath held in my chest, and I drew my scarred hands out of my pockets. They trembled in the open, every red line an eternal, jagged mark on my flesh. “On my favorite days, you smelled like paint.” My voice was soft, and the tight hold Mabilia had on the wind slipped.
A gentle breeze touched my fingers, easing the numb tingling I had grown all but used to.
Mabilia’s lips parted, but Mythalzen interrupted before she could speak, “My lord? You know the court and how they get.”
“Regrettably.” I stuffed my hands back into my pockets and sighed. “I will be astonished if their patience has held this long. Come, Princess. We will have time enough later for you to hate me.”
Leading Mabilia down the sheer cut path into the ravine, I kept watch on the tunnels we passed for any straying faeries, specifically the nastier ones. Very few would be interested in getting near her armor, but I was not one to take chances. When at last we reached the paths leading into the palace tunnels, the sun had crested the trees and showered the ravine with sparkling light.
Minerals blanketing the walls shimmered in the spare moments before we ducked into the darkness of the tunnels. Before I could lift my hand from my coat, Mythalzen clopped ahead of us, and a stream of tiny golden sparks danced around his head and hooves. Excitement twinkled in his eyes when he looked back at me. “Finally, a party you can’t leave in favor of seeing ‘your princess’.”
Tossing open the throne chamber doors, Mythalzen fell immediately into a bow, bending his knee and lowering his head. Silence washed through the tinkling chamber.
Then it erupted with sound once more. Everyone pushed forward to catch a glance of the woman they knew could spin worlds. They thought her little more than an experiment I had started; they had no idea what the future held or what had truly gone into making her. Those secrets belonged only to Mythalzen.
Releasing a breath, I extended a shaking hand to Mabilia, catching the terror in her eyes a second before she hardened it into cool resignation. “Am I expected to take your arm, Rumpelstiltskin, and be led into your den of monsters?”
The answer was simple enough. “Yes.”
Her gaze flicked to the world she should have always known, but nothing familiar lighted her skeptical eyes. Her beautiful, otherworldly eyes instead clung to every hoof and horn and wing, oblivious to how her pale skin matched mine and her dark hair shone like a raven’s feather in the faerie light. She was—always had been—one of us, but now we were strangers.
She didn’t touch my skin, but she moved her bag to just one hand and took my elbow with the other. I led her into an ocean of bodies that parted like a tide, creating a direct line to my witchwood throne. Murmurs swallowed us, and the fearful eyes of the young ones pinned me in duress. They only brightened when Mythalzen clopped along behind me, no doubt flashing them a wide gr
in. Too young yet to have learned the scorn of his birth, children adored him in a way no one else in the court saw fit to.
I delivered Mabilia to the vacant throne beside mine, then faced my people. Curiosity. Fear. Disdain. Excitement. Every flavor of emotion concerning her presence speckled the faces of the young and the old. The humans had done very little to affect us from within their glass walls, but we knew their hatred, and for some, that was enough cause to reciprocate.
Nodding my approval, I sat down. Tense though the air was, a flurry of music and cheerful voices returned to the space, coloring it in shades of merriment.
“You have no lover?” Mabilia asked, setting down her bag, sitting beside me, and tracing the knots in the wood of the queen’s throne.
I peered at her. “No, I don’t.”
“In Dale, lore says the fae are ancient creatures. Do you not commit, or have you been alone all this time?” A shiver made her shoulders tense as a drunk sidhe tumbled into the plateau at her feet. The woman laughed, her long antennas searching for purchase and coming uncomfortably close to Mabilia’s boots.
Referencing the woman and the rest of the room, I replied, “You can hardly call this ‘alone’.”
“It is in your eyes, and I know better. This place is one of the loneliest.” She wrapped her arms around her and shifted away from the woman.
I lifted a finger, and Mythalzen jumped to the sidhe’s side, leading her off the steps and back into the room.
Mabilia’s eyes thickened with spite and darkness. “You wear it well, your crown. Just like my father, your pawns adhere to your will with hardly a word.”
“That’s kind of rude.” Mythalzen strode back to his place at my side, hurt polluting the pout on his lips. “To both us and your father, actually. I wouldn’t call myself a pawn.”
“If I’ve really offended you, I apologize, but I see no difference. Both my father and your Lord Rumpelstiltskin wield their power with the intent to hurt others. Instead of standing up to that rule, you oblige your liege without question.” She scanned the room, lingering on a circle of playing children, then whispered, “I’m no different.”
Kingdom of Villains and Vengeance Page 29