Resistance

by Allana Kephart

  “As most of you have probably heard by now,” Father begins in his booming voice, “my second youngest escaped my home last night and was enjoying carnal activities with humans.”

  People begin to murmur and I feel a blush take over my entire body. That wasn’t how it went at all! I stand silently; shaking visibly and trying not to meet the eyes of everyone there —people I know — people I have conversed with at parties and gatherings, who are now looking over at me like I’m a modern day hooker. Glancing at my sister Sindri, my usual rock and best friend, I feel my heart clench when I see even she looks at me like she doesn’t know me. She breaks my gaze the moment she is caught and continues to hear Father speak; her dark eyes shimmering with tears.

  “While she is my own blood,” Landric continues over the chatter, “I am morally obligated to mete out the proper punishment. What she has done is unacceptable on so many levels, and I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. Even my blood must obey the law.”

  There is a chorus of agreement and I take a few steps back, wanting to escape. Murphy is behind me though, and he wraps his arm around my front and walks forward; lifting me off the ground when I try to squirm away. Without the king’s back shielding my view, I can see the entirety of the scene now. There is a small fire in the center of the city with a figure in a dark, hooded coat beside it. He holds something I cannot see, and I’m momentarily distracted by the large chair beside him. It almost looks like a metal dental chair with bondage. I try and yank away from Murphy once more, but he shakes me like his friend did nights before and pushes me back against the cool chair. “Just take it, okay?” he hisses as he secures the iron binds on my wrists and thighs. “I’ve been here, and if you stay calm it will be over faster.”

  “What will?” I say, my voice shaking as I ask. Tears blur my vision to the point where I can barely even see his face, and as he mouths ‘Stay still’ and walks away I let out a small sob. What are they doing? This isn’t standard procedure for an auction, nor an execution. I have never seen something like this, and it shakes me to the core.

  “In case she ever escapes again,” my father is saying, “Queen Bronwyn and I have decided to brand Lumikki, in case she is ever lost again.”

  My face flames and I start crying in earnest. I don’t care who sees, I don’t care if these people think I am a brat or that my father is a monster. Terror tightens my throat and I couldn’t care less what the crowd thinks.

  The king is still talking but I don’t have the focus to hear him. My eyes are locked on the man in front of me as he twirls a piece of metal in his hand. Father booms something and the crowd roars in encouragement, excited by the show, and the hooded man lifts the heated iron brand. Although it is a replica of the magic tattoos we place on the humans, this one is a burn — it will not heal. It will never fade away. As the man approaches me I try my damnedest to get my wrist out of the hook on the table, but have no luck. All I manage to do is make my hands sticky and get blood all over the dress I’ve been forced into.

  I try for pleading instead. “No!” I wail at him; trying to find a pair of eyes beneath the hood. “I’m begging you not to do this.”

  It’s like he doesn’t even hear me. He twists the stick into the optimal grip and holds it over my arm. I scream for my father, sister, or anyone to find it in their heart to jump up and help me, but no one does. Everyone is watching like it’s a television show; like there isn’t a girl strapped to a table being scarred by her parents’ word.

  “STOP!” It takes a moment to realize the screaming is tearing from my own throat, and my body vibrates in terror. “Please don’t do this, please, please—”

  But no one cares.

  The heated iron is on my skin suddenly and I let out a death cry. It hurts even more than I thought it would; the cold burn of the iron only intensified by the heat of the sparks still clinging to the metal. Smoke comes in waves off my body and the smell of burnt flesh soars through the air. My hysterical sobbing is cut off when I am unable to pull in a breath, and even when the item is removed the searing sensation doesn’t stop.

  “Let it be known to all the young, and or stupid ones who feel the urge to rebel against the Courts. This could be your fate.”

  Murphy is beside me again; lifting me off the table and carrying me back inside before my father even asks him to. The man has led me to several problems in the past week and still I find myself clinging to him for dear life. I saw the pity — I saw the glimpse of humanity in his eyes and I just want someone to get me away from here…

  “Murphy!” I hear from behind us once we get inside the courthouse. It’s my father. I start crying harder and try to smother them in this guard’s shoulder. For a minute I think he will continue on and ignore the man, but instead he puts me on my feet and turns to face his king. It takes everything in me not to fall to my knees. “She can walk,” he says to the guard. “Don’t baby her.”

  Taking the hint, Murphy leaves my side and follows after Khan. Father looks down at me with a cruel smirk. “Now was that so bad?”

  Still unable to stop the sobs wracking my body, I don’t respond. I wish I was made of ice, because I would make myself melt into the ground and ruin the perfect wood floors.

  Father’s eyes get icy the moment everyone leaves his side, and he forces my chin up with his forefinger and thumb. “If you ever embarrass me like this again I will personally execute you — do you understand me?”

  I manage a nod; choking on my tears. He nods back and storms away, and I feel my knees buckle. Someone catches me — a sister, a guard, I do not know for sure — and leads me after my family. I am led upstairs to Sindri’s room and settled on her bed. Small hands start to clean my new permanent marking, but I jerk my hand away and try to hide it. It hurts too much to be toyed with. I hear a sigh and suddenly I am being taken out of the confining dress, put in an airy nightdress and settled onto the mattress.

  My eyes focus on Sindri’s face then. She still isn’t looking at me the way she always did, but I do see a hint of sympathy. “I’m terribly sorry it came to this.”

  I can’t reply, so I don’t. She frowns and kneels in front of me. “It could have been worse,” she says, and then meets my eyes. “Perhaps next time you feel the urge to converse with humans, you’ll just follow in mother’s footsteps and visit some of the gentlemen in the ‘entertaining’ line of work.”

  Prostitutes, she means. The poor, captured men who have been left in motel-like faery camps, who are abused until they’ve either gone mute or mad, who the royal women in my family use on a weekly basis (on the down low, of course). I turn my face into the pillow and try to smother my sobs. She thinks so little of me now.

  I hear her leave and still I do not look up. I’m sure I cried all the way until morning light, over the pain in my arm and chest, my mind, heart and soul. Lying there, I feel a deep-rooted loathing start in the pit of my stomach and a cold settles over me when I realize…

  …I would have preferred the public execution.

  Chapter 11—Fi

  May 2102

  Juggling a thermos of hot coffee, a basket of muffins, mugs and sugar, I climb the front staircase heading towards my father’s office. I need to find something to make notes on while I discuss the Winter Court with Flint, and I know there will be a stash in the desk. The trick will be getting everything to the office and then over to the library by myself. I make it to the office on the second floor before I have to put the thermos down to open the door. I curse my lack of foresight. If I’d grabbed a bigger basket I would have had a free hand. You could say I’m a bit distracted today.

  Once inside, I am overwhelmed with memories of countless hours spent in here curled up in a chair reading while my father worked. I set the basket and thermos down on the coffee table situated in the middle of the room between the armchairs and the sofa, directly in front of the desk. I take my time moving through the room and breathing in the scents my father left behind. Spearmint, like the leaves h
e loved to chew, and another distinct but not unpleasant male smell. I breathe deeply and try to convince myself my eyes are misting over because it’s dusty in here from being shut up for so long. I sit in my father’s chair and pretend for a moment that he’s alive and he’ll step in the room any moment to scold me for stealing his seat. I sniffle a little as I remember happier times and stare at the paintings on the wall; wishing I could turn the clock back.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here lost in thoughts of my parents and the past when I hear a noise from the hallway. Startled, I look up and see Flint leaning in the open doorway studying me. I refrain from slapping myself in the forehead. How could I have forgotten our meeting — the sole reason I came up here to begin with? “For heaven's sake, I'm late! I'm sorry, Flint. Come in.”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t even worry about it. It’s fine.” He enters the room almost reverently, as if he knows what this place means to me, and sits down in an armchair; surprising me by asking, “Are you okay?"

  It unnerves me that he seems to pick up on my moods so easily, but I nod. “I am. Thank you for asking. It's just odd being in here without my dad. I never realized how much he filled up a room. Do you mind if we work in here instead?” Suddenly I can’t bear the thought of leaving this place.

  He gives me a kind of half-smile and settles into the chair. “Sure.”

  I smile, grateful for his understanding, and get out of my dad's desk chair holding what I came in here for: one of the empty journals and a pen. I’m about to settle myself on the sofa across from Flint when I remember the coffee and muffins on the table in between us. “Oh, help yourself to coffee and my aunt’s cinnamon muffins. I thought this might be better with refreshments.” I busy myself pulling the two spoons I had in my pocket out, and lay them next to the thermos on the table. Stirring some sugar into my own coffee and selecting a muffin from the basket, I sit back down and tuck my feet under me on the sofa and look up at him. “So, what can you tell me about the Winter Court?”

  “That’s a broad question. What would you like to know?” he asks; lifting a brow and settling back into the chair with his own coffee.

  “Honestly, anything that might help break us into their Court and leave with one of their daughters without being killed would be very helpful.” I take a sip of my coffee and sigh; perfection in a cup. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I’m having this conversation. “In the specific, do you know how many guards they have around their home?”

  “A friend of mine once told me that Landric hardly ever has guards posted on the outside of his home. They mostly remain indoors, specifically around his dungeon and his bedroom. You don’t really have to worry about that. He has a guard on his son at all times, but that’s of no concern to us.”

  I do my best to hide my shudder of revulsion as I make notes. Who needs guards at their bedroom? I can’t help but wonder if he’s keeping someone in there against their will, or trying to protect himself from imagined dangers. And he guards his son but not his daughters? I’ve never been happier to be human. The more I hear about this man, the more I feel we are saving his daughter from what I’m certain is a hellish existence. At the same time, she could hate us just as much as the rest of her family apparently does. We’ll just have to take it as it comes.

  “Okay. That's good to know. I have a recipe for a sort of sleeping draught I can prepare for her — it won't hurt her. It will just enable us to keep her quiet and unaware for the return trip.” I stop and shake my head in horror at the words that just fell from my mouth. “Wow, that sounded awful. Does this feel surreal to you? Or is it just me?”

  He snorts like I’ve asked a silly question. “Honestly I can’t believe half of the things that have happened in the past few months...” he trails off with a sort of half-grimace on his face.

  I grin at him; secretly relieved I’m not the only one whose life has been turned upside down. “I agree. I never expected this — any of this — all I wanted was to teach kids about our history and well, everything else. Like my Gran did for me. Oh, well.” I shake my head. There’s really no sense in dwelling on what can’t be changed. “I just keep telling myself there is a point to all of this insanity.”

  “You teach?” he asks. He looks somewhat stunned by the statement.

  I nod happily and smile just thinking of my students. I’m thinking people may find me prickly to be around at first, judging from the shock in his voice. “You sound so surprised.” I can’t help but laugh. “I promise I have more patience with children than I do adults. They're done for the year right now. From September through April, though, I teach with Seamus' wife, Ruth.”

  He laughs and I’m caught in the pure timbre of the sound; his eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them. He doesn’t look snarky for once, like he’s in on some fantastic cosmic joke the rest of us can’t handle. “I am surprised... I—I don’t know… You don’t strike me as the type who would voluntarily put herself in a room full of children.”

  I feel my face flush and admit, “I've heard that before.” I sigh. “I love kids, though. I always thought I'd have a house full of them...” I trail off, shocked at my big mouth once again.

  “And why can’t you?” he asks plainly; watching me like it’s really that simple. I silently curse his ability to make me forget that he hasn’t always been a part of my life. He has no idea about my whole first-boyfriend-debacle, and heaven knows I don’t want to fill him in.

  “It's just not that simple for me anymore.” I pause, trying to explain as honestly as I can without over-sharing. He certainly doesn’t need the whole story, but I did bring it up. “I trusted the wrong person and it didn't end well. I don't know if I'd be strong enough to do it again. Eir needs me now anyway. He's the only family I have left.”

  His brow furrows. “Well it’s none of my business what you decide to do with your days. But you’re a very nice young lady, Fi, and I hope one day you’ll let someone love you for all he’s worth.” He looks a bit shocked at himself for saying that, and I feel my face flame at his words.

  “My goodness, we've gone off topic here, haven't we?” What is it about this man that makes my mouth just run away without my good sense? Embarrassed, I start rambling to cover the awkwardness. “I'm sorry...so back to the Winter princess. I don't know about you, but I don't think we should bring very many people when we do this.”

  He clears his throat and lets me change the subject, although he seems slightly embarrassed himself…though I don’t know why he would be. “No, not many at all. The fewer you take, the less attention we’ll draw. Better chance of getting away with this.”

  “Yes, I think just you and me…and maybe Sean should be good enough. Don’t you?” I ask, glad to be off the topic of my past mistakes and dreams for the future.

  He huffs out a breath and shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “Yes, I suppose we can take the overgrown toddler.”

  I try not to grin at his assessment of Sean. I fail. “I really do wish you wouldn't antagonize him, Flint.” I shake my head, completely bewildered by my cousin’s behavior since my parents’ death. “I swear he's never been this aggressive before.”

  “I tend to have that effect on people,” he says with a grin of his own.

  I laugh outright and meet his gaze. “Yes, I can see how that could be. I think bringing Sean would be easier than dealing with the fallout of trying to go without him, or trying to keep him from following us and ruining everything.”

  He looks away for a moment. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me, love. I trust your judgment.”

  “Ah, that's something I never get tired of hearing,” I say, still grinning at him.

  “And here I thought you hated that nickname.” He winks at my confusion and barely contains his laughter when I blush as I realize what he means.

  I shake my head at him, still blushing. I try clearing my throat and open my mouth to speak, but honestly I have no idea what to say so I shut it agai
n. “You do love to infuriate people, don't you?” I finally manage.

  He shakes his head; something between an amused smile and a smirk on his handsome face. “Just you,” he insists, and I feel something shift in my chest. Panic follows closely behind.

  I definitely should not believe that I’m somehow special to him. It scares me how easily I forget he’s a faery. My mother drilled it into my head that they are silver-tongued devils, and I cannot afford to be wrong again. My parents paid the price last time for my naïve ways. He might not mean the people here any physical harm, but I’m not planning on risking anything more personal than that.

  My own version of his snarky smirk is in place on my face when I say, “I'm sure I can’t possibly be the only one. So what can you tell me about this Winter princess, Lumi?”

  His jaw tightens for a moment and if I didn’t know better, I’d think I offended him. His tone isn’t light and teasing any longer when he says, “She’s little and has a thing for wolves. She hasn’t mastered her affinity with air very well, and since she’s made so many errors in her life she’s been forbidden from having a husband for ‘fear’ that she might inherit the throne one day.” He shakes his head at the idiocy of the Winter King. “She’s basically the royal misfit.”

  I can’t imagine parents wanting that kind of life for their children. I can’t help but want to rescue this Winter princess from the life she was unlucky enough to be born into. “The poor girl... I think you’re right about one thing for sure — she sounds like our best bet.”

  He scowls, sighs and then says, “She’s your only bet. The eldest girl is still pissed over her father having a son, the middle child is schizoid, the youngest one is the perfect princess, and her brother; he’s just an ass.”

  “I wanted to mention to you that I don’t want my brother knowing anything about this. Will that be a problem for you? And do you have any idea how we're going to get in to get her? It isn't like we can just knock on their front door,” I trail off, disgusted with myself. I should have thought of that long before now.