The vine-cage unfurled.
Callie looked up and took a step away from the stump. Her heel hit the cushions, almost tripping her over.
As the vines parted, the woman in the drab dress entered.
A brass pitcher was clutched in her hands, steam wafting up from it.
“Good morning,” said the woman with a curt bow.
The vines quickly slithered into a cage-door behind her. The woman’s gaze shifted to the platter of untouched food.
“If the breakfast isn’t to your liking, I can arrange other food for you.”
Callie eyed her. “Are you going to run away again?”
The woman looked startled.
“No,” she said. “I apologise for that. You weren’t expected to wake so soon. I was unprepared.”
“So soon,” she repeated. “How long was I asleep?”
“Eight nights.”
Callie rubbed her arms, hugging herself, and tried to do the math. All up, she’d been in the fae realm for about two weeks. Two weeks too long.
“How am I healed?” she asked, gesturing to her unbruised skin. “The cuts on my feet should’ve taken way longer than a week to heal.”
The woman’s expression turned serious. “The prince demanded you receive the best of care for your recovery. Twice daily, a Shaman came to treat you.”
“The prince?” Callie frowned. “What about Rain? Where is he?”
“The prince is the one you speak of,” she said, flushing. “The High Paladin, Prince of the War Court.”
Callie sensed that the woman didn’t want to say his name. There was something old about her, something that told of another time, long before Callie came to be.
The thrones made sense now. He was a prince, he belonged on the altar. It didn’t ease the pit of dread in Callie’s stomach to know that.
Somehow, the thought of being in a prince’s debt was far greater than owing a paladin.
“May I introduce myself, ma’am?” The woman’s voice came out in nervous squeaks. Her hands trembled, trying to hold up the pitcher.
Callie nodded.
The woman let out a sigh of relief. She rested the pitcher on the floor before approaching Callie by the stump. Then, she performed a deep, grand curtsey.
“I am Davina,” she said, stuck in her curtsey. “Faithful servant to the Prince of the War Court. At your service, Callie of the human realm.”
“You’re human too,” Callie pointed out. Davina straightened up. “Why are you here, in service to them?”
“Not to them,” she said. “To the Prince of the War Court only. When my debt is repaid, I may return to the human realm.”
Callie went cold all over. “Your debt … I—I made a deal with him. Will I be stuck here like you are? Am—Am I a servant?”
“Please, ma’am.” Davina’s voice had roughened; as if other words had wanted to break free, but were trapped inside. “You must eat.”
“I won’t eat that.” Despite her words, her stomach grumbled at the reminder of food. Callie shook her head. “I won’t be cursed again.”
“It’s no curse,” said Davina, not unkindly. “Merely breakfast. Here in these chambers,” she said, gesturing to the bedroom, “you are safe of enchantments.”
“Why?” she said. “I need to know what’s going on here. Why was I in that bed? Why are you the one to tell me all of this? Where’s Rain? Where’s my friend?”
“I do not know of your friend. The prince will return shortly. I am instructed only to ensure your comfort in his absence. I’m afraid it isn’t my place to offer you the answers you seek, ma’am.”
“When will he be back?” The urgency clung to every letter. “Will he be back soon?”
“Two nights from now,” said Davina. “The prince will return to his domestic responsibilities.”
Callie sank into the cushions on the floor. Two nights was another two too many. She couldn’t imagine waiting much longer for answers. She had to know that Meghan was safe, where she was—and what the bargain entailed.
Callie stiffened.
“My bag,” she said. Her eyes darted to Davina. “I left my bag in the hall. I have to get it back!”
Davina clasped her hands at the front of her apron. “If the prince agrees to your request, then he will grant it upon his return. Now, please—eat.” Her head inclined to the platter. “You must if you are to regain your strength.”
“Strength for what?” mumbled Callie. Still, she snatched a chunk of cheese and rolled a piece of ham around it. “Sitting around here for two days, staring at pieces of wood? I can hardly wait.”
Davina smiled. It was a genuine gesture, ripe with understanding.
Callie felt like a fool. Davina knew what it was like to be trapped in a strange land, unable to leave.
Callie rolled the cheese and ham together, then stuffed the rolls into her mouth. Her cheeks bulged as her eyes wandered around the room.
“There is one thing I am to warn you about,” said Davina. Her hand waved toward to the vine-door. “Should you try to leave, the vines will restrain you—and only the prince can control them. You will be at the mercy of his return … and his temper.”
Callie swallowed with difficulty. The cheese almost got stuck in her throat, but she washed it down with a glass of fresh water.
“His temper,” she said. “Am I in danger?”
Davina turned and picked up the brass pitcher of hot water. The steam had stopped billowing up from the opening.
“That depends on your understanding of the word,” she said. “Now, I must prepare your bath. Once you have eaten, you may find me through there.”
‘There’ was the other side of the sheer drapes that divided the chamber into two parts.
Davina slipped through the curtains.
Callie could see her silhouette through the thin material. The shadow crouched down beside the pond and poured the warm water from the pitcher into it. When the shadow was turned away from her, Callie slipped the knife from the plate and tucked it under the cushion.
After she’d cleared a whole plate, Callie dragged herself through the drapes to the other part of the room.
On a blackwood desk in the corner, stood the glass-cased rose.
The pinkish-red of the petals danced under the light that crept into the room. Beneath her feet, the floor was moss and pebbles, and in the middle of the room was a round pond.
The water wasn’t as clear as the lake’s, but as she dunked her hand in the water to test it, her skin came away clean and soft, as if the water had kneaded away all tension in her fingers.
It was scented too, she realised. A smell that piqued her memories, but memories she couldn’t quite place.
At Davina’s request, Callie slipped into the water. It wasn’t as deep as she’d expected. It came up to the dip beneath her collarbone. Hidden under the water, she peeled the dress from her body and tossed it out of the pond.
Davina changed her gown for a fresh one, a white and cream wrap dress with a hem that touched above the knees, and a bodice fashioned from lace. It was pretty, thought Callie, if one was partial to bohemian fashion.
Callie was more of a ‘jeans and nice-top’ kind of gal.
“There aren’t any trousers?” Callie eyed the dress from the pond, swishing the water with her arms. “Leggings, at least?”
Davina perched herself on a stool that looked to be a tree stump, and she shook her head. “Should you want those clothes, your request would need to be issued to the prince.”
Callie scoffed. “I need permission to wear clothes I feel comfortable in?”
Davina folded her hands on her lap. “The prince would need to purchase the clothes you speak of—he would have to spend favours on them. As he is the one with the favours to offer, you require his permission for anything that might need payment.”
“Favours?” said Callie. “Do you mean money? I have money—”
“It is useless here. Money is of no worth at all. Favours
and trades are the currencies of this realm.”
Callie washed her gaze over the stiff woman. Her greying hair was pulled back so tightly that it straightened out the creases at the corners of her eyes. Davina didn’t look old in her face. Callie guessed that she was in her forties. But her eyes told of centuries.
“How long have you been here?” said Callie.
Davina’s lips tightened. Her beady eyes drifted to the opposite wall where the glass doors to a balcony blocked Callie’s way outside.
“I have two decades left on my debt,” was all she said.
A crease formed between Callie’s brows. Two decades was a long time.
Davina would be close to retirement age when she returned to the human realm.
And without money, how would she survive?
Things would be different in twenty years—the world Davina and Callie knew wouldn’t be the same. But Callie sensed that the world Davina had known had already slipped into the pages of a history book.
“You were young when they took you.” Callie climbed out of the pond and wrapped a cotton kimono around herself. “Weren’t you?”
There was no other explanation, thought Callie, for the age in Davina’s eyes or the ancient way she carried herself.
Davina ignored her prying questions and helped her into the clean dress in silence.
Once she was done, she dismissed herself and left with the platter of unfinished food and the discarded nightdress, leaving Callie alone in the forest-like room.
It took hours before Callie snapped.
The balcony doors wouldn’t open, she couldn’t reach the window in the ceiling, and the alcoves led nowhere. She had no choice but to try the vines.
Davina had warned her of the vines’ enchantments, but Callie couldn’t take her at her word. There were secrets Davina kept from her, her loyalty rested with Rain. Callie’s loyalty was with herself and Meghan.
It made sense that Meghan would be nearby. Perhaps stowed away in a room just like Callie’s. And without Rain there, Callie had her chance.
Callie used the knife she’d hidden under the cushion to hack off branches from the tree near the pond.
After much sweat and a few cuts of her own, she had a stick long enough for the vines.
Callie buried the knife in the dirt at the tree roots in case she would need it later. But Callie didn’t plan on returning to that prison-room.
She marched through the drapes, then stopped a metre from the vines that caged her in and eyed them for a while. The fleeting suspicion that they watched her too chilled her bones.
Callie stretched out her arm, the stick clasped in her hand. The tip of the stick neared the vine-cage as she inched closer. After each step, she paused, waiting for them to lash out at her or at least flinch. No such thing occurred—they remained in place.
The end of the stick reached forward. Callie tilted her body and prodded the vines.
They tightened, as if recoiling from her.
Callie took another step forward and prodded again.
A gap began to form in the cage. The vines recoiled further in on themselves. Callie’s hand shook with excitement as she rammed the stick forward and—the vines ripped apart, leaving a gaping hole in the centre.
She sucked in a breath and gaped at the hole.
Callie ran for it. Her eyes shut, bracing for impact and she jumped.
The ground didn’t hit her.
Ropes lassoed around her arms and yanked her back.
Callie opened her eyes and cried out—the vines attacked, coiling around her ankles and wrists. They were tight, so tight that bruises formed fast.
Callie grunted; her body jerked, trying to wriggle out of the trap. The harder she fought, the tighter they wrapped around her.
It wasn’t until a vine roped around her neck that she stilled.
Callie fell back onto the floor. The vines hugged her closer to the archway, tangling her in place.
A hollowness filled her as she lay there.
The vines would keep her for two nights.
All she wanted was to go home.
9
The vines weren’t kind to her. They trapped her in the archway for two solid days.
Davina returned several times to feed Callie and clean her up. She couldn’t hold back the urge to relieve herself for that long—her bladder wasn’t made of steel.
It was humiliating. Each time Davina had to wipe her legs clean of urine, Callie wept and turned her pink face away.
Was Meghan enduring the same trials as she? Was she trapped somewhere in a cruel trick of nature, waiting for Callie to find her? And what, she wondered, were the prince’s plans with them? To promise ‘anything’ to a fae had been stupid, but in that dance, Callie would have chosen the fires of hell to save herself.
Nothing had seemed worse than the dance.
As she rested, propped up against the arch, her bloodshot eyes watched the dressing table against the opposite wall. The mirror caught her eye and she frowned. She could have sworn a shadow moved in the reflection.
Callie tried to sit up.
Her numb shoulder throbbed as the blood began to course through her again. But the mirror had her attention. In the reflection, she could see pieces of the vines and the other wall of the arch. It was there she’d seen the shadow move.
Davina had only just fed her, no longer than a two hours ago. It wouldn’t be Davina returning to check on her.
Callie’s heart fluttered as she stared at the mirror. There was no movement; the vines were rigid, the arch was unmoving.
Yet, Callie knew she’d seen him.
The sharp scent of sour apples snuck up her nostrils, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled—and the vines tightened around her wrists.
Someone was there.
The vines became restless. Callie winced as they gripped onto her tightly, twisting around her already bruised skin.
Callie tried to crane her neck and look over her shoulder. But the vines held her in place and coiled around her throat.
The prince was behind her, out of sight, a breath’s touch from her trapped body. She could feel it, his unnerving presence reaching closer, the pulse of dangerous magic running over her skin.
But knowing didn’t prepare her, and she recoiled further into the vines.
His cold voice whispered from behind her, the breath of his words disturbing her hair. “I see you are awake, human. And up to mischief, no less.”
That particular sound of leather rustling reached her—he was rising to his feet, she suspected.
“Did my servants not inform you of the vines’ purpose?”
Callie followed his voice to a mere inch behind her. But her gaze couldn’t trace back to him; the vines, despite that he was there, hugged her close. If she moved, the vine around her throat would tighten, and Callie wasn’t sure he would save her if it did.
“I didn’t believe her,” she said, her voice a strangled sound. “I thought it was a trick.”
“Now you know.” The prince’s harsh voice was followed by the click of fingers.
At the sound, the vines around Callie suddenly withdrew. They raked across her clothes and slithered back to the edges of the arch.
Callie hugged her robe closer to her body as she wobbled to her feet. Davina had changed her dress to a plain satin robe that morning. After Callie couldn’t hold her bladder any longer, the silk and lace dress had been ruined.
The prince stood in the archway, watching as she struggled to her feet.
No need to help, she thought.
Once she was upright, her vexed gaze swerved to him.
Callie saw it; the royalty of him, the regal way he carried himself.
The prince stepped out from beneath the arch. As his boots treaded on the floor of the bedroom, the vines caged them both in.
Callie shot them a scathing look.
Rain strolled into the room, toward the dressing table. The way he moved, the way his muscles and joints s
linked, reminded Callie of a tiger.
Was she the elk, she wondered?
The prince peeled off his leather gloves and tossed them onto the dressing table. Gold eyes flecked with faint rose watched her in the reflection of the mirror. Callie watched him back—tracing his slow, predatory movements with her gaze.
The archway offered distance from the war prince. She stayed there with her hands tucked between her sides and arms, and her toes curling into the ground.
“I wanted to be here when you woke,” he said, dropping his gloves to the table. They hit the marble with a slap. “But battle called for me. The cries cannot go unanswered.”
“What if you’d been gone longer?” she said. “I would’ve been stuck in those vines for who know how long.”
His eyes touched to hers in the reflection of the mirror.
As he slipped off his shoulder pads, he said, “You should not have touched them.”
Callie shoved forward, away from the arch. Her feet slapped against the floor. “What do you want from me? We made a deal, but I’m still trapped.”
Rain removed metal chains from his torso. He kept his back to her, but his eyes followed her in the mirror.
“I want to go home,” she said. “Tell me how to do that—”
The chains crashed to the dressing table.
Callie flinched, and suspected that he’d meant to throw them down hard.
The danger clutching to his words when he spoke confirmed it. “This is your home now.” He turned to face her and leaned back against the table. “We had a deal. It is final.”
“But—” Callie blinked at him, her brows knitting together. “I promised you something in return for helping me. You haven’t set me free yet.”
“I released you from the dance,” he said. “And while you rested, I took your part in the bargain.”
Thoughts of the shared bed sprung to Callie’s mind. A twist of bile coiled in her belly. “What do you mean you took my part?” she whispered, horror wiping her face clean.
Rain’s eyes flashed with outrage. His chin raised, and he looked down his nose at her.
Feared Fables Box Set: Dark and Twisted Fairy Tale Retellings, (Feared Fables Box Sets Book 1) Page 17