by Mary Dublin
"Lots of sleep tonics, milady," the woman answered in a disinterested mumble. She set back to slicing up the root.
"Something that will take away nightmares," Esmae pressed. "And fast." She began to grow impatient at being ignored. "Please, it's for my daughter, not me. She's haunted by dreams and terrors when she closes her eyes. They won't stop."
Hardly glancing up from her counter, the old woman reached into a basket hanging from the rafter and blindly pulled out an amber bottle. She looked it over in her hand before offering it out to her. "Essence of lavender and poppy's seed."
Esmae shook her head. "We've already tried that."
The old woman muttered under her breath as she snapped her hand back and rummaged around in the basket again. Bottles clinked as she ran her calloused fingertips over each, as if she knew them by touch alone.
"Perhaps a drop of nightshade and honey…"
While she was still searching for the proper bottle, a loud roar came from the colorful stall near the end of the winding road. Esmae strained to get a better look. The crowd had doubled since she had engaged with the herbalist. A strange sight for winter markets.
"What's going on down there?" she asked.
"Hengest Highwater," the woman muttered, glaring down towards the crowd. "Bloody fool. Making a spectacle of himself with that little creature of his."
"A creature?" Esmae narrowed her eyes, imagining distant tigers and colorful lizards from the books in the castle library.
"He says he's got himself a fairy, if you believe such things."
Esmae whirled back toward the crowd, blood running colder than the air outside. Her voice jumped in pitch. "A fairy? A-are you certain?"
The old woman scoffed. "The only thing I'm certain of is that Highwater is making quite the coin. Fae with pearl hair are the rarest of all and bring luck to all those who come in contact with it. Or so he claims."
Too stunned to say a word, Esmae stared at the crowd.
"Surely you don't believe that hogwash," the woman said.
Esmae turned to find her offering an indigo bottle. "No," she said quietly, fire igniting in her core. "Not for a second." She took the bottle and fished out a handful of gold coins from the pouch at her hip, hastily handing them off.
Shock took hold of the herbalist's previously stone-faced expression. "Milady, this is far too—"
"It's yours," Esmae interrupted distractedly, ducking away from the stall to make a beeline for the crowd down the road.
The excited chatter made Esmae's stomach churn. People shifted this way and that to get a glimpse at the stall. Her heart pounded, and she hoped the old woman had heard incorrectly. Or perhaps the owner of the stall was running an elaborate scam, and there wasn't really a fairy within miles and miles of the markets.
Rather than focusing on the stall like the others around her, she weaved her way through the crowd, making no attempt to ask for space as she squeezed her way closer to the front. Curious humans were amongst the stubbornest of creatures.
Finally, she could peer at what was going on directly in front of the stall. She clenched her jaw, wavering where she stood.
A small gilded cage was hooked onto a rafter for all to see, and inside was a tiny, feminine figure curled in on itself against the other side of the bars. Pearl white hair, as the old woman said. She had her head down, legs tucked close with her back to the eager eyes pointed her way. Her wings… they were at her back, but they didn't look folded naturally. They were restrained to each other somehow, but Esmae couldn't take a good enough look with the bars obstructing the view.
"Gods," she whispered.
A stocky blond man and a redheaded woman stood in front of the caravan, facing the crowd. The man was clearly the ringleader between the two—Hengest Highwater. He was dressed in finer clothes than most vendors could afford, and he carried himself with an air of charisma that managed to draw eyes away from the cage and unto him.
"Who wishes to be the first to hold this beautiful creature?" he declared. "Ten pieces of gold in exchange for a lifetime of good fortune! Mere seconds of her touch, and those who have been dealt even the rottenest hand of luck are cured! An invaluable blessing just within reach! Who would like to experience this miracle?"
Shouts rose up, and many clamored forward.
"You, sir!" Highwater called.
Esmae felt positively ill as the gold was handed off, and the redheaded woman approached the cage.
The fairy didn't move, other than turning her head toward the door. Even when the cage was unlatched, she held still. The woman muttered something inaudible and plunged her hand into the cage, swiftly closing in on the fairy and forcefully unfolding her from her curled position to trap her in a fist.
Fight back, Esmae thought, her throat tight as she shook. Why don't you fight back?
As the fairy was handed off to the marveling patron, Esmae had her first glimpse of the tiny woman's face. A young, pale face. She looked neither defiantly calm, nor genuinely relaxed. Her stillness came from utter resignation. Acceptance of the undesirable, but the inevitable.
She was pressed from the woman's hand into that of the buyer: a gentleman wearing a fur-lined jacket and tailored vest that contrasted with his unshaven jaw. His face glowed with unbridled excitement as he flexed his fingers around his purchase.
"You feel lucky, mate?" someone near him asked.
"You bet your ass I do," the man said, grinning. He held the fairy unreasonably close to his face to get a better look. "Pretty as a picture, she is. Give me a smile, won't you?"
He pushed his finger under her chin. Esmae could tell the man wasn't trying to be rough, but he didn't have a clue how to handle a person so small. The fairy whimpered as her face was forced towards the sky. The finger under her chin brushed across her scantily covered shoulders and then returned to stroke her cheek.
"Come on," he goaded. "Smile."
After a beat of silence, the fairy managed a very weak semblance of happiness. The man beamed, and was promptly applauded by those nearest him. Their voices were loud, even to Esmae, and she knew precisely how painful it would be at merely six inches tall.
"See if she'll give you a smooch, Victor. I'll bet that's enough luck for two lifetimes."
As more laughter rang out, she could no longer stand by, spectating. Before she could reconsider, Esmae had elbowed her way to the very front.
"Let her go!" she commanded.
The crowd quieted, dozens of eyes regarding her quizzically.
"Wait your turn," the man sneered, arching an eyebrow in warning. "I paid for my time."
"What you paid for is a disgrace!" Esmae snapped. "To fondle this poor girl while everyone gawks and cheers? You disgust me. Release her!"
Victor narrowed his eyes at her, amusement laying into his annoyance. "You seem to be the only one complaining." He turned his eyes back to the pearl-haired fairy, who shrank away from him. "You like me, don't you, little lamb?"
The fairy's lips parted with a shuddering breath. If Esmae hadn't been looking right at her, she wouldn't have noticed the glance the fairy threw Hengest Highwater's way. A brief exchange, but to Esmae's horror, it ended with the girl nodding at Victor, wearing a tight smile and tears brimming in her eyes.
Scattered laughter came from the crowd, but before Esmae could speak up again, Highwater was upon her, glaring. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that you leave, Miss. I won't have agitators upsetting my fairy."
Esmae didn't budge. "She isn't yours!"
"You'd rather stay and observe the fondling, then?" Victor inquired irreverently, encourage by the cheers of his companions. He loosened his hold on the fairy, keeping a fingertip brushed up against her cheek while his ring finger curled behind her and slid up the back of her thigh. Esmae might have cracked him across the face then and there, but his expression suddenly became a mask of surprise, and he loosed a shout of pain.
His fist tightened on the now-squirming fairy, prompting her to cry out in
pain. "She bit me!" he growled.
"My apologies, sir!" Highwater was quick to intervene snatching the fairy away in a deliberate and exceptionally rough manner. She was writhing wildly, unrecognizable as the young woman who had idly allowed herself to be passed between hands.
The redheaded woman stepped aside to give Highwater a clear path to the cage. The fairy was all but tossed inside. As she gathered her bearings and scrambled to the far side to bury her face in her knees, the redhead smiled apologetically at Victor, who was still fuming.
"You'll have another chance once she's calmed down and disciplined, sir," she said. "On the house, of course. As my husband said, agitators can truly upset—"
"Silence!" Esmae couldn't bear it any longer. She threw down the hood of her cowl. Silence indeed met her demand at first—mostly out of confusion. And then the murmurs began rushing through the crowd like wildfire while people tried to peer past others to see.
"The queen!"
"That can't be her!"
"It is!"
Victor staggered back amongst his companions, following their lead and bowing his head to Esmae.
Highwater was the first to attempt to speak directly to her. "Y-your Majesty, allow me to extend my deepest—"
"I called for silence," Esmae said quietly, having no need to raise her voice since the murmurs had died down. She scowled at the gathered people. "Clear out. All of you. This is your only warning."
The crowd dispersed in waves. Those on the outer rungs moved along first, while men like Victor with greed in their eyes waited as long as they could before obeying their queen.
"Your Majesty, I had no idea it was you," Hengest Highwater stammered out one fervent apology after another. "I-If I had known, I never would have let those men speak to you so unkindly."
"I'm well aware what you thought," Esmae muttered. "My true concern is the vulgarity you've brought into the marketplace. What is this?"
Reluctantly, Hengest and his assistant stood aside to allow her full view of the cage.
"It's a fairy, your grace," the woman interjected, thinking herself to be helpful.
Esmae threw her a flat look as she swept closer. She laid a hand along the brassy bars, nearly frosted over from winter's breath. It was difficult to tell whether the fairy within was shivering from fear or the sting of the cold.
"I'm aware of what she is," she said, rounding on the pair. "And you're parading her around like some courtesan to be fondled!"
"I-It's good luck, your grace," Hengest protested. "If you believe the legends, that is. It's all in a bit of fun. It lifts men's spirits."
"If you had a shred of decency, you have considered her, as well. I want her released into my custody immediately."
Hengest gaped blankly, glancing nervously towards the gilded cage.
"Now," Esmae hissed. Across the street, she could see Sir Logan lumbering into view. He'd heard the commotion, no doubt.
"But Your Majesty, this is my livelihood. Caught the creature myself, fair and honest. I have to protest, you see, or seek compensation otherwise."
Esmae eyed the bulging bag of coin on his belt. It made her blood boil to think of the many hands and leering eyes the poor girl had been subjected to warm her own weight in gold.
"Then I would advise you to find a more honorable livelihood, and quickly." Her voice was like ice. Her anger had driven out all fear of what the townspeople might say of her. At that moment, all that mattered was the weight of the keys placed in her hands.
Esmae fit the key to its lock and pulled open the barred entry. The fairy inside kept her head lowered, two tiny eyes peering over her knees. Esmae bit her lip, feeling monstrous as she gingerly pushed her hand inside.
Although part of her was relieved the fairy didn't go into a panic, she knew it was not natural in the slightest for a person to remain so docile in such a situation. The fairy hid her face as the back of Esmae's gloved fingers brushed against her upper arm in a soothing gesture.
"You're alright," Esmae whispered to her. "I'm here to help."
The fairy didn't respond. Her shoulders hitched and tensed, aware that she could be snatched into a fist at any moment. With aching slowness, Esmae brought her hand around the back of the fairy, who finally reacted.
Her tiny voice, muffled into her lap, was nearly lost on the breeze. "Don't… don't. P-please, don't." So soft, as if it wouldn't make a difference whether she was heard or not.
Unable to bring herself to grab the little maiden against her will, Esmae shifted her hand in front of her instead, offering it palm-up. With how dismally small the cage was, she almost didn't have the space.
"Is this better?" Esmae murmured, coaxing the fairy to peek from her fetal position.
Light eyebrows pulling into a befuddled frown, the fairy glanced over Esmae's hand to see her face. For a moment, Esmae thought she had gotten through to her. However, the fairy merely shifted the slightest bit away from her hand in answer, continuing to stare hard.
With a conceding sigh, Esmae pulled her hand out and paused to consider the size of the cage. It looked small enough to conceal behind her winter cloak if she needed to. She couldn't dawdle much longer in the marketplace, lest curious start wandering back.
"Here." She removed her left glove, pulling it inside out to expose the soft lining within. "Warm yourself, at least." She reached back into the cage to drape the palm of the glove along the fairy's back, moving delicately to not jostle her wings.
The maiden flinched in alarm, uncurling slightly as she turned her head side to side to examine the offering with confusion.
Reluctantly, Esmae shut the cage door and pocketed the key in her cloak, pulling up her hood. Without bothering to seek permission, she unhooked the small cage and turned to Hengest and his assistant.
The man opened and closed his mouth, looking like he wanted to protest further, but Esmae spoke up before he could work up the audacity.
"Unless you would like to experience imprisonment yourselves from the wrong side of the bars, you will not attempt anything such as this as long as you live."
"A-as you command, Your Majesty," the woman stammered, throwing Hengest a look that was no doubt a plea to not argue.
Holding the cage as steadily as possible, Esmae did not address the vendors again as she took her leave of their colorful stall, marching across the road to meet Sir Logan.
"What was that about staying undiscovered?" he asked, meaty arms folded over his chest.
"I had no choice. They were torturing her."
"What—is that a fairy? Here?"
"Please, keep your voice down," Esmae murmured.
She glanced about, holding the cage a little closer to her stomach. The frosted intersections remained seldom traveled through, but she watched regardless for prying eyes. It had been over five years since the vicious rumors of Daniel's alliance with the fae had come to light. By now, they had been all but stamped out in the minds of Mirrel's people. But Esmae remained on guard, ever fearful of growing too comfortable with their secret.
Sir Logan seemed to understand her urgency as she took off at a brisk pace towards the carriage, cage obscured under her winter cloak. The knight set a hand on her back, clearing the path of any stragglers who dared to slow them down with a glare colder than the air.
By the time they were seated in the back of the coach, Esmae could feel faint quivers running through the bars of the cage. She silently willed the coachman to go faster as she pulled the cage into her lap.
The fairy was clinging to the bars furthest away from Esmae, shivering violently. Oddly, she appeared to have ignored the glove outright. Esmae bit her lip, uncertain how to proceed. The girl looked half-starved and terrified. Esmae worried that any move she made, as a human, would only serve to agitate her further.
Is this how Daniel felt? she wondered suddenly. When he first found me under his table all those years ago?
She exchanged a worried look with Sir Logan, who mistakenly took that as a cu
e to try and bridge the silence.
"You're in good hands, little lady," he announced in his gravelly voice. "No one knows the fae better than our queen."
The fairy reeled back as if she had been struck, leaning hard against the bars and ducking her head to hide from Logan's well-meaning gaze. Her shoulders rose and fell with frantic breaths, bordering on sobs.
Frowning in alarm, the knight looked to Esmae. "Did I say something wrong?"
"It isn't you," she answered with a sigh, her blood boiling again at the thought of the gawking crowd. For how long had the girl endured such conditions? "I haven't made any progress, either. She prefers being in a cage than being handled. I doubt humans have left an impression on her beyond making her life a living hell."
"You don't know her?"
Esmae shook her head. "I don't think so."
"Then are you certain she can understand us to begin with?"
Peering at the cage, Esmae thought about how the fairy responded to Victor's demand to smile. And she had spoken a few words herself, albeit with nearly imperceptible softness.
"She can," Esmae answered, then directed her words to the fairy, disheartened by her cowering. "No more harm will come to you, sweetling," she promised, praying the nervousness in her voice wouldn't come off as an attempt at deception. "May I have your name?"
She was met with no change from the other side of the bars, other than the fairy facing away further. That was when Esmae was met with a full view of her wings. Horror stabbed at her heart.
"What did they do to you?" Esmae breathed.
The girl's wings were restrained by thread piercing straight through the membrane, looping through two spots on either side. But that wasn't all. Jagged, healing rips suggested that previous restraining threads had torn right through over the years. And all the old scarring… Esmae had to turn her face away.
With words getting her nowhere at the moment, she let the fairy be.
Chapter
Three
A hot bath made a world of difference for the skinny fairy, once Esmae had finally coaxed her from the safety of the cage. But though her clothes had been changed and the filth scrubbed from her skin, she refused to allow Esmae anywhere near her maimed wings, even to remove the stitches. She remained as closed-off as ever, and Esmae began to worry that her mind was too far gone to be saved.