Mythalzen frowned, holding my eyes, but he wisely refrained from speaking his mind.
“Are you coming?” Mabilia asked him, interrupting our stand-off.
He glanced past me, then tilted his head. “Am I, my lord?”
“Go on.” I gave a quick jerk of my head and avoided digging my nails into the soft leather of the old book in my hands. “Seeing as she didn’t disappear this time, you must be doing some good.”
He flourished a bow before his clopping hooves passed me. Mabilia giggled, and I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see her take his hand. A sheepish smile curled his lips, and he watched her iron cuff warily, but she dragged him away before I could see more.
The friends she had never before been able to have.
Mythalzen would be there for her, I knew. When I was gone, he would never leave her side just like he never left mine, even well after his rearing years. Loyalty wasn’t uncommon among the fae, but it certainly was rare to find a mutual trust alongside it.
Sighing, I bent, retrieving a neglected book off the floor. The royal purple cover highlighted the golden letters of the title: Spells and Curses. What…light reading? Fitting each book back into place on the shelves, I hoped Mabilia hadn’t gotten any ideas. Fae blood in her veins and both the characters I’d placed at her side was a recipe for disaster. If any faerie grew a head overnight, I’d know precisely who to blame.
The last book I lifted to put away should have slid easily onto the shelf, but my hands were killing me by the time I reached for it, and it wouldn’t. Frustrated, I left it leaning and rubbed my fingers. After today, there was only tomorrow. One way or another, the war would follow swiftly after Mabilia went home. Then this would be behind me.
Repeating the idea of peace at last, I made my way to my room, stopping short in the doorway. My gaze clung to the bed where just hours before Mabilia’s bear had lain, tucked in, loved, a symbol of our beginning together. The precious item was gone now, sucked away in the contract and used as the price for power.
A sad arch in the covers was all that remained of its memory. Closing the door, I approached that arch and hovered my shaking hand over it. I could picture the creature’s face clearly still, but the brilliant expression Mabilia had made when I’d first given it to her was lost to the ages.
All things had to come to an end. The price of life would always find itself paid when it came time to bid it farewell. Exhaling, I closed my eyes, and flattened my sheets, bidding the treasure goodbye.
SOMETHING WAS WRONG. I jolted out of bed, my eyes wide open and no sleep clinging to me. The subtle hint of burning stuck in my nose. I lifted the covers and didn’t bother to grab my robe when I left the room and trailed the quiet caverns, searching for the splashes lingering in my memory.
Some ancient design that shouldn’t be touched. Some quiet place. A weathered tome.
My heart thudded. I knew exactly where the images in my dream had come from. The library. Mabilia. She hadn’t…
My pace picked up, and I practically threw the door off its hinges. Mabila stood within, holding a tome of spells over a design she had chalked out on the floor with a stone that now rested on the table she had pushed out of the way. Her head lifted, her hair slipping over her shoulder, against her nightgown and the iron armor she still wore over it.
No surprise entered her gaze as she smiled.
“What are you—”
“What do you think I’m doing, Rumpelstiltskin?” She set the tome down on the table and faced me. “I told you I’d find my answers, one way or another.”
My hands clenched. “You don’t understand what you’re toying with. These markings are too strong, and you’re untrained.”
“And you care?” Her smile drifted. “Is it because your contract with my parents deems I must return to them whole and unharmed?”
I stepped further into the room, my head shaking.
She flicked her hand, and the door shut silently behind me.
“Knowledge is always power.” Holding up her hand, she examined her fingers. “You taught me that when we would hide in the palace library to escape the expectations surrounding me. I know I’m not like my parents. They’ve tried to shape their powers into other things, but they can’t.” Dropping her hand, she closed her eyes. “I know now why you always looked so sad after I’d spent the day turning branches into weapons. I’d thought it was my imagination.” Her voice shook, and tears filled her eyes when she looked at me. “Why don’t you make any sense? You were sad. Not angry. You never tried to stop me or manipulate me. You never spoke a negative word against it all to turn my mind.”
“Why would I have needed to?” I gripped my linen shirt as if the action would slow my pounding heart. “I already saw how you hated it. You didn’t need me to tell you anything. You knew.”
Her lips parted. She took a step toward me “Rumpelsti… Rumpel, please. Tell me everything. All your secret thoughts.” She took another step toward me, and the tears hanging on her bottom lashes overflowed. “Do you understand how important you have been to me? How hard it is for me to believe all these years have meant nothing? I don’t know you at all. I’d always filtered your words through me, made every line of yours the concoctions of my imagination. All this time, you were a real friend. And now you’re my enemy?”
She fiddled with the ties holding one iron cuff in place, and the metal fell, thumping against the ground. The other followed.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
Piece by piece, her armor came undone, and then it was just her, standing in a loose, silk gown. My body tensed, and a shiver cut through me when she touched my cheek. “I asked my question first.”
My jaw tightened. “What are you plotting, Mabilia?” I gripped her wrist with my shaking hand and drew it away from my skin.
“Don’t you understand anything!” Her head dropped, and tears left splashes in the dust on the ground at our bare feet. “I love this. This whole place. These people. The scent of magic in the air, the idea of a world without borders.” Her other hand cupped my face, and held tight, skimming over my cheekbone. Her wild glassy eyes peered at me, and her lips shook. “You.” She gasped in a breath that filled her chest like a sob. “Make it right, my faerie. I can’t bear this.”
She blurred, tears gathering in my eyes as well. I dropped her wrist and tried to push her hair over her ear, but my fingers trembled, nerve damage and nerves coming together to make the smallest action impossible.
I caved in on myself. My arms went weak, and I pulled her against me, holding her tight. “Princess,” I whispered coarsely. “I…” What could I say? Was it too late to spare her? Should we treasure these moments instead? They would be so…brief, and they would only ease me. I couldn’t be selfish with her; I had already demanded so much.
Her lips touched my jaw, and I froze. She pulled back just enough so that I could see her face. Wonder filled her teary eyes. Her fingers brushed my cheeks and trailed over my long ears, dipping finally into my hair. “I’ve always wanted to touch them.” She laughed shortly. “I feel so stupid. I should have known something was wrong. I guess sometimes when we want something to be real bad enough, we make it that way…”
“You were lonely.” My eyes closed. “They kept you lonely. It was never meant to be that way. You were supposed to be here, with us.”
“My parents told me what happened when I was born. They said you had me in your arms, but you made a game of it in the end to torment them. By their diligence and some blessing, they won.”
My head shook. “When they realized they had no real right over you and they had bargained with something that wasn’t theirs to control, the terms of the contract changed. I didn’t have enough power to take you from the iron room, so I hoped my impossible test would amend the requirements. I played no games concerning you, my love.” I dropped my forehead against hers. “I anticipated every eventuality, even my failure to take you away, which is why I orchest
rated the making of the ring that would hide the effects of iron, in the event I needed it.”
“What happened to your hands, Rumpel?” she asked, her voice a gentle caress. “Why did you kill my grandfather, the king? And what have you done with my other grandfather? My mother…my mother has been left so damaged by you. Why?”
I was usually so sure. But not with her. She left me in a heady state, where no thoughts could get through. How did I dare to proceed? This trip had already accomplished its purpose—fostering a care for my people, a love that with all her kindness would be enough to save them. For her sake, so my sacrifice wouldn’t be a dark blot on her spirit, I had to remain the villain.
“I wanted you,” I said, forcing mischief into my smile. “I wanted this.” Running my hands down her back, I rested them at her waist. “I wanted you confused, and reliant, and pliable. Desperate. My love,” I whispered, kissing the tears resting in the corner of her eye, “I wanted you to know every horrible thing I did to people you loved, and I still wanted you to choose me.”
I braced myself for the backlash. For the Mabilia I knew to explode, casting anger and fire around her, shattering the ice.
Instead, her fingers toyed in my hair, and she bit her lip, a coy blush tainting her cheeks. It took me by surprise, and the act I’d thrown hastily on died. My Mabilia wasn’t twisted like this. What—
“My faerie…” She lifted herself on her toes, touching my lips with hers for an instant. My whole body went limp, solidly still. “I gave you a chance.” The dark words broke through the fog in my mind, and in that same moment, she plucked one of my hairs. Tearing herself out of my weakened arms, she darted for the designs she had marked on the stone floor.
I jerked after her, but power ignited, pushing me away from the fractaled image. “Mabilia! Don’t! That’s—”
“I gave you a chance!” she repeated above the roar of magic pouring from each etched line. “You failed, but I’m sorry to say, I still don’t believe you!” Determination set a blazing blue fire in her eyes, casting away the demure woman. And…she had played me. So completely.
If magic weren’t boiling between us and worry weren’t devouring my gut, I may have been proud.
“You don’t yet understand what you’re dealing with!” I shouted. “It’s not going to work, and the consequences—”
She dropped the strand of my hair, threw out her hands, and tilted her head back. A blinding flash shattered the room, painting the world before my eyes in a blistering white. I blinked furiously, forcing my legs to work on the memory of the mental image before everything disappeared. When the universe settled back into view, I was on my knees in the cracked circle. Mabilia lay in my arms.
A piercing trill rang in my head. Every scrap of energy sucked out of my limbs, I sat there, gaping at her crumpled body. No blood. No wounds. But her consciousness was severed in the backfire, splintered into the space around us.
“Stupid!” I fumbled with my numb limbs to lift her closer, examine the unseen damage. “How could I have been so stupid!” My chest ached. Of course her act wasn’t real. The touch of her hands and lips was all a sweet lie I fell into—like she’d said: when we want something to be real bad enough, we make it that way. We both were acting on what we wished was true. I was desperate for her love; she was desperate for the truth—but she already had a picture of her truth, and until she knew for certain—or until the world aligned to her wish—she wasn’t going to stop searching.
Why was it always like this? With her, I never stood a chance.
I cradled her against my chest, breathing out when she breathed in to help link us. I held two shaking fingers over her forehead and dragged them down over her body, resting at her heart. Her mind lay stranded around the room. I felt it in the unnaturally chilling breezes against my skin. Fractured as it was, I wouldn’t be able to draw her back together without help.
“I’m sorry, Princess,” I whispered. “I’ll fix this, for a kiss. It’s all we have right now, and it’s urgent we don’t waste time.”
The air in the room trembled.
“In my defense,” I caressed her cheek, “I warned you.”
The second she relented, magic filled me. I wielded it to gather the fragmented pieces, then I bent, kissing her, breathing her back together, taking my due. As I exhaled, she inhaled, gasping. Her eyes snapped open on me as I pulled away, my shaking hand still at her cheek.
She stared at me, shock pooling in her gaze. “I thought—” Her voice cracked. “I thought I could do it.”
My brows lowered. “What you attempted is no simple thing. Searching someone’s mind requires your mind to withstand theirs. I have centuries on you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Yet you needed my help to fix it.”
“Can you, for one moment, act rationally, Mabilia?” My tone bit, and I clutched her tight. “You’ve been with me two days and have nearly died just as many times. What if I had been a second late with the wendigo? What if you had tried this on your own? I can’t afford to lose you.” I exhaled, closing my eyes. None of us could.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m always shaking!” I snapped, meeting her gaze and making an effort to compose myself.
She didn’t flinch. “Do villains cry, my faerie?” Her cool hand lifted, skimming my cheek.
I clenched my jaw as she brushed ice off my face, but I didn’t reply.
“You always made everything better. Now, I feel like I don’t know you. Maybe you weren’t lying before—maybe you did want me reliant and confused and everything else, but from here it looks like I’m not the only one who’s desperate.” A weak smile curved her lips. “I’m not one to give up easily. And you haven’t noticed yet.” Pain twisted her expression as she drew herself up Her lips brushed my ear. “I have you right where I need you.”
Magic gripped me, my back going rigid. The breath in my lungs held, and my eyes widened. She traced a symbol against the ground, and a smaller design lit beneath the broken one—we sat directly over it.
Fingers prodded my mind, and I sneered, baring my teeth.
“I want the truth.” She slipped out of my hold but didn’t leave the new circle. Her slow movements betrayed the toll the previous spell had taken, but nothing else conveyed it. She smiled, a shaky, hopeful thing that made tears gather in her eyes. “Just like always, my faerie, tell me a story. And start at the beginning.”
I held on for as long as I could, but the magic was like a cobra slithering around my chest and delving into my mind. My lips parted, and words hissed out between gritted teeth. “What will you give me for it?”
“How are you this stubborn?” Her fists clenched.
A raw grin peeled back my lips as the spell took the answer from me. “For the same reasons you are.”
“Explain.”
The power reached deeper, niggling into every cranny of my skull. I growled. “I will give you your answers if you release me from this and agree to a contract.”
Her head shook. “No. I’ve bargained with you enough already. Consider this one a favor.”
“I would have a favor for it in return then.” From my resistance, pain bloomed, and the threads the spell wove in my mind became thorny vines. She blurred some, but I remained upright. “When the war starts, seek me out.”
“So you can use me as a hostage? Like I would agree to that. My people hate me enough without my showing weakness in the battle we’ve spent over a decade preparing for.” Her gaze shifted down, emotion touching the hardness she had marked upon her face.
“Your true people don’t hate you, though some are wary.”
“You cannot mean my true people are the fae?”
The piercing in my skull drew back when I answered easily, “I do.”
“I can’t believe a word you say, can I?” she seethed.
I snorted. “What use is this truth spell then?”
All her air left her, and were she not already so pale, color would have as well. “How
can I be fae?”
“Agree to my terms.”
She placed her hands flat on the ground, filtering more power into the spell. “You are not in a position to make terms.”
My vision swayed, but I choked out a laugh. “We play a dangerous game. My will against your power. Which will run out first? Do you think I’ve not been tortured before? Do you really think this is torture?”
“Why do you need me to meet you?” she spat between gritted teeth, pulling back on her power to conserve her energy.
“If you do not, we all will perish.”
Shock widened her eyes, thoughts flashing behind them. “But,” she whispered, “you have magic. Surely Dale won’t… We can’t be that strong… Everyone?”
The question needed no confirmation, so I remained quiet, and the spell remained tame.
Her brows lowered, and she met my eyes. “I’ll agree to meet you. But I won’t drop my spell. I know I’m willing to believe a lot of things, so I want to be sure what you say is the truth.”
My mind churned, and I narrowed my eyes, but I lifted my hand. “Very well, but when I am done with what I will say, you will release me.”
“As you wish.” Her hand clasped mine, and ice climbed, but she didn’t tense or wince at the chill.
When I released her, the spell had fallen into little more than an insufferable presence. I exhaled. “In my nightmares, I see snatches of the future. For years now, I have witnessed the destruction of my kind, so I searched for a way to save them. The only answer was you. A child born through two miracles, two lives I was able to touch, coming into herself when Winter’s Howl and Celestine aligned.”
“Just because your magic lives in me doesn’t mean I’m fae.” Panic flickered in her eyes, but she held it down. “I’ve lived in iron my whole life. I’m not fae.”
“My magic lives in your parents, Princess. Half a fae soul—half my soul—lives in you.” I watched her face as terror broke through. She dropped her gaze to her spell and knew I spoke the truth; her breaths shortened. I continued, “I tore myself apart for my people so you would be strong enough to save them. I tortured your mother to bend to my will, making sure she met your father. I killed the king when he sought to wed her instead. No villain works without a reason, but the reason does not absolve my crimes.”
Kingdom of Villains and Vengeance Page 32