Glamour of Midnight

by Casey L. Bond

  A torrent of bubbles rushed to the surface.

  I winced, expecting the worst, but instead of the horse, Loftin surfaced. Water sluiced off his skin as he tucked his knife between his gritted teeth, his lips thin and his eyes tight with anger. He swam for us both, wrapping an arm around my stomach and pulling me back to shore. I crawled onto land, backing far from the water’s edge.

  Loftin trained his sunset eyes on me, but there was no warmth in them. “Puca are one of the oldest and deadliest of the Unseelie. If I hadn’t heard you...” He took a deep breath. I could hear his pulse pound and see the vein in his neck throbbing with the beat of his heart. I didn’t want him to finish his sentence; didn’t want to know what might have happened if he hadn’t been nearby and close enough to help.

  “Loftin, I’m so sorry. I heard the stream and followed it to the lake. I just wanted to wash for a moment and fill the canteen again,” I babbled. “I’m sorry. I thought it would be safe.” No wonder Iric couldn’t trust me to take care of myself. No wonder I needed people to babysit me.

  Loftin seemed as though he might explode…and then he did. “You thought wrong! Again! Will you do us both a favor and assume that everything is dangerous? Absolutely everything in this forest is deadly! Everything. Even the water!” he yelled, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side. Pacing, he continued his rant. “It’s like you don’t want to find Iric at all. You almost ruined... everything.”

  LOFTIN

  She gave me a long, hurtful stare and glanced away.

  I gathered my bag and gear and took up my sword from the ground where she’d left it, sheathing it and trying like hell not to study the green grass and flowers blooming all around where she’d knelt at the water’s edge.

  Karis quietly stood and followed me back to the cliff where our food was waiting. I’d killed a Harick. It wasn’t much, but it was more than nothing, and I needed to skin and cook it quickly so we could move. We had many miles to cover before we reached the Northern Forest and the Court of Ash.

  “You should lay down and rest while you can,” I growled.

  She followed me back and sat down near the pile of dead limbs she’d collected.

  As I cut the pelt away from the small animal, I thought about what had happened. She almost died. If I returned to Nemain without her, she would make me suffer for a long time before she killed me. Not that I’d go willingly.

  I knew what she did to the huntsman who was supposed to bring her Karis’s heart when she was only a child.

  Who could do that?

  Who could order another to cut the heart out of her own daughter? Especially when she was little more than a child.

  I shook my head.

  You couldn’t make sense out of evil, and Nemain was exactly that, through and through. She would stop at nothing until she got what she wanted. If she wanted her daughter, and if I could deliver her in one piece to get what I wanted in the process, it was what I needed to do.

  And this morning? Maybe the Puca was a blessing. If I kept reminding myself that we were simply traveling companions, it wouldn’t be so hard to deliver her to her mother. Karis was just a mark, a job; an exchange I couldn’t live without.

  But the longer we travelled together, the more I realized I didn’t want to just exist anymore. I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t have the luxury of being her friend, and I sure as hell needed to quit staring at the wet clothing stuck to her body like a second damned skin, the see-through material of her shirt with her nipples puckered beneath it.

  Scald it all.

  When she closed her eyes, I breathed onto the pile of logs she’d gathered, igniting them. She heard the kindling ignite and her eyes snapped open. Her spine straightened and she looked back at the fire and then to me, the question lingering in her eyes. How did you do that?

  I didn’t bother answering. “Sleep. You need it.” She wasn’t going to be able to handle this journey if she didn’t take time to rest. She wasn’t human, so she didn’t need to sleep one third of the day, but she did need to nap when she could.

  With the meat cleaned, I made a spit and arranged the small Harick carcass across the makeshift spit. The flames licked at the pink meat, turning it brown and in places, blackening it. Karis’ breathing finally evened out. She slept soundly for a while, but suddenly opened her eyes, wide awake again.

  “The meat is cooked through. It’s safe to eat,” I offered.

  As we ate, Karis fidgeted, sniffed the air, and fidgeted some more. She stood and sat back down, only to stand up again. She kept looking at me from the corner of her eyes. “What’s wrong?” I finally asked when I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “I don’t smell Iric. His scent is gone. Do you smell it?” her voice broke on the last word.

  “The smoke from our fire’s probably overpowering it.” Even so, I sniffed the air, realizing she was right. “If you’re ready, I’ll put the fire out and we can get going.”

  “How do we know which direction to travel?”

  “Tracking humans isn’t hard,” I declared reassuringly.

  “Okay.” She blinked away the moisture from her eyes and threw her bag over her back.

  I stomped out the fire until only a small trickle of smoke wafted into the air. “We’re going into the hills, leaving the Southern Forest and traveling into the Eastern Wood, former home of the Court of Spring. You’ll need to be mindful of your steps, as the trail is littered with boulders and stones. It’s easy to twist an ankle and injure yourself, but that’s where Iric’s scent trail was headed. We’ll probably catch up with him soon.” It was fortunate for me that he was heading in the safest direction for us to travel, and the quickest toward the Court of Ash.

  She pursed her lips and nodded once, holding the rope to the bag across her back in one hand and her staff in the other. I would have told her to leave the wooden stick behind, but she seemed to draw comfort from it. As her hand tightened on the staff, something glimmered in the sun.

  “What’s that on your arm?”

  She tried to pull away, but I caught her wrist and brought her toward me. Her chest heaved against mine, our toes touched, and I bent down so she couldn’t turn her eyes away. I pushed her sleeve up.

  “Where did you get the Asper?” I breathed. It wasn’t there yesterday.

  She squirmed against me, trying to pull her arm from my grip and failing. I could see the moment she decided to tell me the truth. The sternness in her face melted away. “It was a gift,” she whispered.

  “You met Finean?”

  At the nod of her head, everything inside me caught fire. If there was anyone I hated worse than Nemain, it was Finean, King of the Court of Reflections.

  9

  KARIS

  Finean. That was his name? It was familiar, rolling through my mind and threatening to slip off my tongue even though Loftin was so close... so close it was hard to breathe.

  He’d handled me so roughly, with thin lips and eyes that caught flame when I told him where the Asper came from. I thought he was going to incinerate us both. He had the power to make fire. I knew that.

  I thought his words would be harsh, fueled with anger.

  I didn’t expect a more tender side to emerge from the flame. I didn’t expect him to pull me close, for his breath to wash over me, making it difficult to breathe.

  “I almost lost you today,” he drawled quietly, resting his forehead against mine.

  His body felt warm against mine. So warm and comfortable, that it took me a moment to form a coherent thought. “You didn’t. You saved me. You have a talent for saving me when I get into trouble.”

  He brushed a wet strand of hair behind my ear. “Can I give you a piece of advice?”

  “Sure.”

  “Stay away from Finean. Second to the Dark Queen, he’s the most dangerous creature in all of Faery.”

  Loftin stepped away, leaving me light-headed and weak-kneed. He searched the morning sky and glanced back to me, smiling at my undo
ubtedly dazed appearance. “We should get as far from the fire as we can. The beasts will be looking for a free meal soon, and I’d rather them feed on the remnants of our breakfast than for them to feast upon us.”

  I wholeheartedly agreed. Another Unseelie encounter was the last thing I wanted to face, and though I was sure more monsters stood in the distance between me and Iric, the soft morning light was comforting.

  Side by side, Loftin and I quietly set out into the Eastern Forest. In the ponderous silence, I tried to ignore the way he affected me. Soon, I would find Iric and he could lead us back to Ironton. I wasn’t sure what I’d do after that, but it was clear that once he helped us and collected his favor, Loftin would move on. He had a life, and I was only welcome in it for a short time.

  “Can I glamour myself?” I blurted.

  Loftin gave me a side glance. “With practice, I’m sure you could.”

  “So if I learned how, I could go back to Ironton?”

  “You were blind there. Would you really choose that life?”

  “Maybe I’d prefer the darkness. I can’t imagine Ironton’s much to look at.”

  “What do you think it looks like?” he asked curiously.

  “Poverty. I can count the ribs on Iric’s youngest brother. I could feel his ribs and collar bones protrude more each day, and feel him grow thinner each time he hugged me. I’m not sure I want to see him waste away.”

  “What if you could change things? You grew the vine. Maybe you could grow food for the people. Would they accept you then?” he proposed.

  “I doubt it.” It was the sad truth of the matter. Prejudices and fears ran deep. It was simply how the Slopers treated the Trenchers, and the Trenchers accepted their lot in life instead of fighting for something more, something better.

  “I’m sorry you’ve known hunger,” I told him.

  He slowed his steps, sniffing the air. I could tell he didn’t smell Iric’s scent either. “How do you know I have?”

  “You didn’t react or judge when I told you about the boy. You’ve noticed my clothes, how they don’t fit and how worn they are, and yet you haven’t made fun of me for wearing them. Maybe you assume they’re the best things I have. Maybe you’re right.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve seen hunger. I’ve felt it, Karis. I’ll never judge you for battling it.” He smoothed his own clothes. They were somewhat worn, but finer than anything I’d ever touched before. The fabric was thick and sturdy. Where it had torn, he’d mended it.

  I wondered what life was like for the Seelie who didn’t know how to hunt.

  The terrain changed drastically to rolling hills, more meadow than wood. Between the tall, dry grasses were boulders and small rocks that littered the land. Trails snaked their way over and through the rocky fields, and I couldn’t help but imagine what it would have looked like if it were alive and thriving once more.

  There would have been wildflowers and butterflies... Wait. Why did it feel like I’d been there before? Why could I picture the scene in my mind as it should be?

  As we ran the paths that cut over and through the hills, I couldn’t help but replay the morning’s events in my mind. The Puca. It seemed so sweet and harmless, but I was fast learning that nothing was as it seemed here. Everything was a deception, luring you in just so it could ensnare or kill. This entire world and everything in it was fighting so hard to survive, it had lost its beauty, or maybe because its beauty was lost, the world fought to survive. Either way, it was heartbreaking to witness.

  With everything in this place charged as a predator, maybe Loftin was right about Finean. If the Puca hadn’t gotten to me first, maybe he would have dragged me under. I decided to stay far away from him... and all sources of water.

  What if Finean was the one who sent the Puca to kill me?

  “You’re quiet,” Loftin mused, interrupting my thoughts—thoughts that made me feel as though there were spiders and crawling things all over my flesh.

  Not ready to share the course of my speculations, I asked, “Have you picked up his scent yet?” I couldn’t. We’d run for miles, but I hadn’t picked up Iric’s scent again.

  “No, but I know where he’s going,” Loftin replied, jogging beside me.

  “Where’s he going?”

  “The Northern Forest. Great plumes of smoke rise from the ice fields there.”

  The thought curdled in my stomach. “How far away is that?”

  “A couple of days away on foot.”

  “Can’t you fly?” I teased. “I thought faeries could fly.”

  “Some can,” he answered with a shrug.

  “But you’re not one of them,” I finished for him.

  He gave me an apologetic look.

  I’d been in Faery less than twenty-four hours. Iric had a small head-start, but this world was unforgiving. Did he manage to meet someone to help him through it, too? My heart swelled with gratitude for Loftin. Loftin—at times a raging inferno, and at others a steady comfort.

  “If a human wandered into Faery some time ago and didn’t return, where might I find him?”

  “Iric is probably fine, Karis.”

  “I’m not talking about Iric. I’m talking about someone who disappeared years ago. Where would a human go for so long?”

  Loftin’s lips flattened. “You won’t find them.”

  “Alive, or at all?”

  “To my knowledge, the longest a human has survived Faery in the last fifty years has been two to three days at most.”

  The breath was knocked out of me. There was no hope for Gregoire, then. And Iric’s time was quickly running out.

  He slowed his pace as more and more rocks and boulders littered the path. “Why do you ask?”

  “One of Iric’s younger brothers disappeared from Ironton. Some suggested one of his friends pushed him through the smoke, while others claimed he was dared to walk through the wall. One boy admitted he’d been talking about leaving for weeks and planned the whole thing, and that he even left with a bag of supplies.”

  “You’ll never know what happened for sure, but how and why doesn’t matter in the end. If he didn’t come back, he didn’t make it,” Loftin affirmed softly.

  “When I told Iric’s mother that he’d left and I was going after him, she asked me to bring both of her sons back.”

  He was quiet for a few moments. “You speak of Iric like he’s a brother to you. You know his family. Yet, you distance yourself from him with your words. Is he truly like a brother, or do you have romantic feelings for him?”

  I wrinkled my nose. Gross. “Iric is the closest thing I have to a brother. He’s like family you get to choose, family that might be stronger than blood ties. He and his brothers adopted me as their own, and I adopted them as mine.”

  “How many brothers does Iric have in total?”

  “Seven. Five are living. I already told you about Gregoire, and his brother Roane died in a mine collapse when Iric was a baby.”

  He offered an empathetic smile. “You have five brothers to guard you, and still you managed to find yourself in Faery.”

  “Three of them are young, too young to fend for themselves, even though they do it anyway. Iric and I help whenever we can.”

  “And their mother? Did she raise you?” He glanced over at me, unblinking as I answered.

  “As much as she raised her natural-born, I suppose. Vivica... She’s complicated.”

  “I have time,” he baited with a grin.

  I loved it when he smiled. All of his expressions were handsome, but his smile made my knees weak and butterflies take flight in my belly.

  “She’s detached and cold most of the time, but on rare occasions, she’s not so bad. Her profession is one that isn’t conducive to having children around much.” I prayed he would drop the subject.

  Loftin lacked the ability to read social cues, or didn’t care that I didn’t want to tell him. He asked anyway. “What’s her profession?”

>   “She’s the town harlot.”

  Loftin’s eyes widened and a faint blush spread over his cheeks as he coughed. “Oh.”

  I smiled at his embarrassment, sure I might never witness it again and loving that I had, even if for the briefest of moments. “Everyone in Ironton is just trying to survive as best they can. I’m sure the other human cities are the same. Though the meaning of the word ‘survive’ changed drastically when I stepped foot in Faery.”

  “What does it mean in Ironton – to survive? Tell me about your life there,” he solicited. “I know of the hunger, but tell me about the city itself.”

  I began, “The people are divided, and how good a life you have depends on who you are. If you were born into money, you live on the Slopes; the foothills and mountains that seem to rise out of the earth from nowhere at all. Then there are the Trenchers; the poor who live in the bottoms and on the dregs the Slopers toss aside. Life’s easier for the rich. Slopers have plenty of iron, can buy as much food as they want—often more than they need—and have extra to spare for a poor Trencher to deliver goods to their homes, so they don’t have to carry it up the mountains themselves. Iric’s a runner. He delivers their things for them, for an iron price. Though he won’t turn down a pheasant if a Sloper has an extra one to pay him with.”

  “Why iron?”

  “Because the fae hate iron. To keep them away, there are bells hanging everywhere. Tiny iron bells that tinkle in the wind and drive me absolutely out of my mind.”

  He laughed out loud then. “It’s because you’re fae and were living amongst the iron. Did you ever touch it?”

  “Yes.”

  “It didn’t burn you?” he asked, astonished.

  I thought back to the times I collected alms. My palm tingled when I accepted it, but I always put it in the pockets of my skirts. I never handled iron for more than a few seconds at a time.

  “I did, but not for any length of time. In Ironton, if you’re damaged, the Governor gives you a regular allotment of iron.”