by Elise Kova
“I will take you back to your pathetic world as soon as I have the magic within you.” He grabs my chin, tugging my face upward to make me look him in the eye. “Until then, you are under my command. You listen to me and I might just get you out of this alive.”
I try and think of everything I’ve ever learned about the fae. Monsters? Confirmed. Can’t tell lies? I’m pretty sure that’s true, since I’ve never smelled a lie on any of them. Have to uphold their vows? It seems so, since he’s so eager to weasel out of the vow he made on marrying me. How can I use any of that to survive? Think, Katria, think!
“So if I go with you to this Vena, and give you whatever magic is in me, you’ll take me back to the manor?”
“I swear it.”
I swallow thickly. That sounded like a vow. And I didn’t smell smoke. “Fine. Then lead on.”
He releases me and turns away briskly. As he crosses by his companions I see the woman, Shaye, murmur to him. I can barely hear what she says: “Next thing you know, she’ll be trying to say that she’s still your wife. As if human laws can be upheld here.” She looks back at me with a snide grin. She knows I can hear her. I get the sense she wanted me to.
Even though with her red hair and butterfly wings she looks nothing like Helen or Joyce, she reminds me more and more of them by the minute.
I gather my muddy, soiled robe around me, try to walk with dignity that I know I don’t possess right now, and trudge forward barefoot into the woods. It’s a miracle that my feet didn’t get cut up last night—at least the forest floor here is covered in a plush, comfortable moss. The thought gives me pause. I stare down at my feet, wiggling both of my toes.
“What is it?” Oren asks.
“Tell her to hurry up,” Hol shouts back at us. “We’re giving her four days max before she dies here. No time to dally.”
“It’s nothing.” I shake my head and press onward, breezing past Oren and the ugly sense of betrayal his mere presence fills me with.
Last night, I twisted my ankle on a root badly. I heard the bones crunch and the tendons snap. I shouldn’t be able to walk right now. But the joint feels fine. In fact, now that the initial haze has cleared, I feel like I could dance, run, jump, and sing.
If only I had a reason to do any of those things. All that lies before me is a long march through enemy territory.
But at least my ankle is a quiet assurance of one thing—maybe I do really have magic. Otherwise, how would I be walking right now?
Chapter 10
Not quite sure why it’s called the Bleeding Woods. Compared to the forest back home, this place is—Dare I think it?—cheerful. My company notwithstanding, of course.
They talk amongst themselves throughout the day, mostly ignoring me. Davien says little; he leads the pack and broods quite dramatically. Oren also stays out of their discussions, lingering back, closer to me. No doubt to make sure I don’t run. I make sure I keep my distance from even him. Whatever trust he might have earned from me is now gone.
Inevitably, the conversation drifts back to me along with their eyes. They ask how I’m doing. They say I must be tired. They say my weak, frail human body must be breaking down.
Every time, I assure them that I’m more than capable of carrying on. I can go a little farther.
It’s the fourth time they do this that I’m finally worn down. The sun is setting on the other side, the wrong side, of the mountains that loom above us—a strange phenomenon for me, and further evidence that I’m very far from home. The sun rises from the mountains…not sets. I come to a halt, crossing my arms and glaring at them.
“Are you ever going to tell me why exactly I’m going to die in the next three days?”
“Do you really want to know?” Hol asks.
“Oh, can I tell her?” Giles seems a little too eager for my liking. He grins and it’s then that I notice his teeth are just slightly sharper than a normal human’s would be.
“I suppose I’ll let you deny me the pleasure,” Shaye says to Giles.
“Tell her whatever you want,” Davien calls back. “But don’t stop moving.”
We begin our march again. Giles speaks as we do. “Since you’re human, I’m going to assume that you know basically nothing about the world you live in.” I roll my eyes. He ignores it. “What you need to know is this. There are three worlds: the Beyond—where you go when you die; Midscape—where you are now, and where those of us with magic still reside; and the Natural World—the world humans were given after the ancient wars, and where you’re from.
“Between each of these worlds is a barrier. The barrier between Midscape and the Beyond is called the Veil. The barrier between Midscape and the Natural World is called the Fade.”
“All right.” I think I follow. Though it seems too incredible to be real. “We crossed the Fade to get here?”
“Correct,” he says.
“So the people who try and cross the mountains cross the Fade and actually end up here? In Midscape?”
“Not quite.”
“Fortunately not, for them.” Shaye tilts her head back and barks out a laugh. “Death is kinder to a human than accidentally ending up in the fae wilds.”
I cross my arms over my chest and fight a shiver. I’m still in my nightgown and robe. What I wouldn’t give for the dignity of a pair of trousers or a proper dress.
“Humans, and the regular creatures of Midscape, aren’t supposed to be able to cross the Fade. Only a few of the elves can; it’s the Elf King who maintains the barriers between the worlds. By not allowing the majority of people to cross on either side, he keeps his power.”
“Elf King?” I repeat. “There’s more than just fae here?”
“There’s elves, mer, lykin, us… There were dryads long ago, but they died off after they made the humans. There’s also vampir, but they haven’t been seen in centuries. I think they were last heard from a couple hundred years after the Fade was erected. They might have gone the way of the dryads.”
Dryads making humans… All the creatures from the old folktales being real… I feel dizzy and pause to brace myself against a tree and catch my breath. “It’s impossible.”
“What was that?” Giles calls back to me.
“Don’t tell me; she’s finally giving up for the day?” Shaye asks.
“This can’t be real. I have to be dreaming.” I shake my head with a laugh. “Magical creatures? Ancient wars? Barriers between worlds? No. No, this isn’t real.”
“Unfortunately for you, it’s very real.” Giles puts his hands in pockets hidden by the folds of his loose skirt. “Because we haven’t even made it to the part that’s going to kill you.”
“Oh. Good. More things that can kill me other than the villains of all of the stories I was told as a girl.” I scowl at him.
“Keep moving,” Davien shouts. I frown even deeper and push away from the tree. The march is a fairly brisk pace, and while I wouldn’t say I’m tired yet, it’s also a lot more than a stroll in the woods. I glance behind me. It’s like we’re running from something. Whatever would strike fear into the hearts of these people, I know I don’t want to meet. My thoughts go back to the woman that attacked me in the woods. Perhaps there are more like her out here, too.
“Humans aren’t made for this world,” Giles says. “Only one human can survive here—the Human Queen.”
“Where does she live?” If there’s a Human Queen then maybe I can find my way to her. Surely she would be sympathetic to me, right? I curse inwardly. What am I thinking? Make it to a Human Queen? Even if Giles told me where to find her, I wouldn’t know one city from another here. I don’t know anything about this world. The sickening feeling of helplessness settles on my shoulders and I want to scream.
“Nowhere you want to go. She’s married to the Elf King and lives far to the south.”
“May they rot with all elves behind their wall,” Hol mutters under his breath.
“Let me get this straight, you’re saying that humans
can’t survive here, so all humans were long ago pushed out into the—” I try and remember what he called my world “—Natural World.”
“Look at that, she can be taught. I’m like a proud papa over here.” Giles wipes an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye, sniffling dramatically.
I ignore the remark. It’s the closest I’m going to get to affirmation so I continue. “And because humans can’t survive here…I’m going to die?”
“More or less.” Giles shrugs. “Can’t say we’ve ever really tested it. Shaye, you once saw a human dragged to Midscape, right?”
Shaye glares at him for putting her on the spot. But she answers anyway. “I did. It was a horrible idea from a horrible person who did horrible things.” Her eyes are distant as she speaks. She doesn’t seem to look at anything. “It’s the food, the water. In Midscape humans aren’t nourished the way they should be. They wither and die alarmingly fast.”
I swallow thickly and glance back toward the mountains. I try and ask as casually as possible, “How does someone cross the Fade?”
“Don’t even think about trying to do it.” Hol sees right through me. He ties his long auburn hair back at the nape of his neck, combing it around his horns. They look more like mother-of-pearl than bone. “The Fade is a dangerous place, even for us. Remember, no one is supposed to be able to cross it. We can only navigate it with magic and broken passageways that are a risk every time we try. If you tried to go into it, you would certainly die.”
It sounds like I’m going to die either way. But I don’t say the remark aloud. They’ve given me enough food for thought that I chew on the silence for a while. Every now and then I look back up at them. The three talk between themselves. Shaye’s shimmering butterfly wings twitch on occasion, proof that they’re real.
Or that I’m having the most horrible, vivid dream ever.
I hold out my forearm and give it a firm pinch. It hurts. No, not a dream.
Sighing, I run my fingers through my hair. They catch on a series of knots. I begin tugging and teasing out the tangles. It gives my hands something to do while I think. As if untangling my hair will help untangle me from the mess I’m in.
I don’t even notice the group has stopped until I’m a few steps away from them. Jostled from my thoughts, I look around. The ruins of old houses, long forgotten, spread among the trees like a child’s toys forgotten and left out. A large oak tree rises up from the remains of one home, boxed in by the crumbling walls.
“We’ll stay there tonight.” Davien points toward the building I was just looking at.
“Must we?” Giles shivers and wraps his arms around himself. “This is a cursed place.”
“It’s only cursed if you allow it to be,” Hol says firmly, though I can’t tell who he’s trying to convince, the rest of us or himself.
Oren has come to a stop beside me. I glance over at him and whisper, “Is that how curses work?”
“No, curses are—” he begins to say but is cut off by Davien.
“This place is not actually cursed.” His low voice rumbles through me. I hate that it is the same voice I spoke to all those evenings this past month. The same voice that kept me up in my bed late at night, sighing softly and yearning for just a glimpse of the face that went along with it. It would’ve been kinder if his voice changed when we entered this world. I still don’t know how to remedy the difference between the handsome, kind, and safe Lord Fenwood I was imagining, and the powerful, deadly fae standing before me. “It is merely a place of brutality and great trauma.”
“The sort of trauma not even the trees forget.” Shaye looks up at the leafy canopies we walk under, as if trying to commune with those very sentries.
We enter into the ruins through a crumbled archway and work our way over the boulders and rubble, around the central oak, and to the back corner.
Giles picks up a stick from the ground and draws a circle around him. Oren motions to me to stand back with the rest of them. I watch with fascination as he marks four lines on the circle—each pointing in a different cardinal direction. As he makes the markings he murmurs, “North, South, East, and West, anchor me into this world.” He digs the stick into the ground at his feet. “Fill my body with magic; allow me to wield all the power of the rock and leaves of the trees.”
Lifting the stick, he points it at the tree in the center of the stone walls. The tip of the stick barely touches the bark. “Let us be safe within your boughs; let your bark be our shield, and branches be our walls.”
His normally hazel eyes glow a faint emerald at their edges and the tree comes to life with a symphony of groaning and creaking wood.
I stumble backward. Oren catches me with a hand, helping me stay upright. I watch as the bark peels away from the tree and arches overhead. New branches sprout and weave together to form walls that merge with the stone remnants around us. Leaves unfurl to turn a canopy into a roof. When the light fades, there is a hut waiting for us.
“How…” I breathe. I can’t form a cohesive sentence. I should be terrified. I should want to run at the sight of that. And yet… It was stunning. Magic was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever laid eyes on. The feeling of power steeping in the air. The rush as it swirled around us and the tree came to life. The way it moved…
“It’s called ritumancy,” Oren answers my unfinished question. “Every type of creature in this world has their own form of magic, different from the others. The fae have ritumancy—meaning we use rituals to harness and use our powers. We cannot perform magic feats greater than a simple glamour, or using our physical gifts, without first performing a series of steps to charge and/or store it.”
Giles holds up his hands as if on cue. Tensing his fingers, claws shoot out of them. They’re the same as I saw last night when he was dancing around the fire. As he relaxes his hands, the claws vanish.
I think back to what Lord Fenwood—Davien, I remind myself firmly; Lord Fenwood never existed—told me the night of the dining table. No wonder he knew so much about fae magic. Here I thought he was a hunter when he was actually one of them himself.
The group settles in for the night. Hol makes the fire while Shaye and Davien go off hunting for dinner. They come back with hare that’s promptly carved up and roasted.
Hol hands me a piece and says, “It might not taste like anything, or do anything for you, but it can’t hurt to eat it.”
My stomach growls, apparently loud enough for them to hear because Giles lets out a snort. I don’t really want to eat their fae food, but I have to try and keep my strength. At the very least, even if it tastes like ash and fails to nourish me, my stomach will hopefully feel full. And that’ll be enough to quell its singing.
“Thanks,” I mumble and take the thigh he’s holding.
As I haven’t eaten anything all day, it smells like heaven. Mouth watering, I take a bite, bracing for a mouth of campfire. But instead…it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. Had I even eaten food before this? I take another large bite, wiping liquid fat off my chin with the back of my hand.
“At least you’re making an effort to eat it,” Oren says with a smile.
“It can’t hurt,” I repeat Hol. I don’t want them to know that I can taste the food. Maybe other humans were lying to the fae. We can lie, after all, and they can’t. Maybe making them believe that the food and water fails to nourish us is a tactic for us to escape and get back home. Perhaps it’s the food that will allow me to cross the Fade.
Dinner finished, the group settles in for the night. Hol takes first watch, Giles second, and Oren third. My best shot at running is when he’s on duty. If I’m going to escape, it’s going to be then.
The forest floor is more comfortable than I expected. The thick carpet of moss cradles my body and I fall into a surprisingly deep slumber. I wake when Oren stirs next to me. I positioned myself close enough that he wouldn’t be able to move without me feeling it. Pretending to still be asleep, I sigh softly and roll onto my si
de. Covering half my face with my hands, I crack one eye open and peek out between my fingers.
Oren and Giles whisper among themselves. The conversation is brief and Giles takes his spot among the group on the ground. I wait until his heavy breathing has become soft snores.
Moving slowly, I roll onto my stomach and put my hands underneath my shoulders. I push myself up on my palms and knees and scan the group, using the smoldering remains of the campfire for light. My eyes snag on Davien. Even in the low light, his amber skin is practically luminescent. The orange embers contour his muscles, the sharp cut of his jaw, and the line of his brow, softened by sleep.
If I look only at his face, he’s not too unlike the man I imagined, down to the slight stubble. But then I see the crimson, iridescent wings stretched behind him. No, the Lord Fenwood that I knew was an illusion. All along, this fae was manipulating me. When I left my family’s home, I swore I would never be used again.
That promise to myself didn’t end just because I crossed into their world.
I slowly stand, tiptoeing out through the archway made of branches and bark. Oren leans against the opening of the ruins. His dutiful watch comes to a halt on me.
“You should be asleep,” he whispers.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I say sheepishly, ignoring the metal taste in my mouth. “I figured I shouldn’t do that where everyone else is resting their head.”
“You can do it over there.” He points to the other side of the tree, right next to the shelter. “I will look away.”
“I can’t—that’s too…” I sigh in frustration. “I can’t do it that close to people.”
“They’re all asleep.”
“I get stage fright.” I shift my weight from foot to foot as though the need is urgent. “I’ll go just behind that tree. It’s far enough away.” I point to a large oak tree near another ruin.
Oren purses his lips. “Fine, but hurry up.”
“I’ll do my best.” I press my hands into my lower abdomen. “That food isn’t sitting right with me.”
He gives me a pitying look, almost enough to make me feel bad for lying and running away. But he was the one who lied to me in the first place. If he cared about me he would’ve told me what he was or stopped them from taking me here.