by A. W. Cross
Hot tears beaded in her eyes, but she restrained them from falling. “He isn’t. I’ve never seen him before in my life.”
“You can’t deny the similarities.”
“I will deny them,” she snapped. “Whoever he is, he did not raise me. And that means he is not my father.”
Auber snorted, leaning close, his face mere inches from hers. A cloying scent of roses wafted off his linen shirt. “I had heard humans relied on emotion rather than fact. Seeing it in person is quite amusing though. Perhaps that’s your use: amusement.”
His hand lifted, long grey fingers reaching for her, so she pulled her legs onto the dresser and stood. Head tilting, he blinked and stared up at her.
Glaring down at him, she asked, “What gives you the right to consider humans so poorly?”
His arms folded across the wide berth of his chest, and she tensed, noting his stature remained overwhelming even at her elevated vantage.
“No one gave me the right. I am simply entitled.”
She swallowed. “Hardly something to be proud of.”
Chuckling, he grinned. “But with a name that means beauty, aren’t you entitled as well, oh—” His eyes scanned her brown skin. “—fair one?”
Glaring, she snipped, “I didn’t choose my name.”
“Really?” A brow quirked. “Humans christen their young, thrusting such expectations upon them?” His infectious gaze skimmed over her from her spruce-dark hair to the hem of her skirts. “A pity you mostly grew into your moniker. If you looked like a goblin, it could have been endearingly ironic.”
“If I—” Fayre’s mouth snapped shut, and her teeth clenched until they hurt. “Is that what you are? A goblin?”
“A good thing you weren’t named ‘kind’ or ‘demure’.” He snorted again. “Goblins are stubby, vile creatures. Do I look like a stubby, vile creature to you?”
Her eyes narrowed. “One of the two, yes.”
“If I still had a heart, it would be bruised.” His fanged grin unfaltering, he laid a hand against his chest.
“What are you?” she demanded, ignoring her own stampeding heartbeat. “Every living creature has a heart.”
He turned, pacing before the dresser, and held up a finger. “You happen to be wrong there.”
“What?”
“Jellyfish don’t.”
Fayre couldn’t shake the sensation the monster was mocking her. “I don’t believe you.”
“You’ve never heard of a jellyfish before is what you mean to say. Not a surprise considering where you grew up. An inland kingdom has little knowledge in regards to the ocean.” He stopped, glancing at her, and her insides clenched. A black tongue flicked over his lips. “I just remembered. I came up here to fetch you for supper. No use having you starve before I figure out what I’m to do with you.”
She clung to the bars behind her to stabilize herself as her knees threatened to buckle. “Are you insane?” she whispered.
“Not on my good days.” The monster paused. “Or perhaps it’s the bad days. I put very little thought into it, I assure you.”
A chill scraped over her body, raising bumps along her flesh. “What do you even eat?”
Setting both large palms against the dresser, he stared at her, eyes gleaming. “Guess.”
“I’d rather not,” she squeaked.
He spun on his heel. “Then, come see.”
The man’s long strides carried him out of the room without pause, but Fayre hesitated on the dresser. Her gaze skimmed the space several times before she decided little good would come from remaining in the empty chamber. If she could find an exit, however, perhaps she could plot an escape.
Carefully, she stepped to the floor and stabilized herself against the dresser—taking a long, deep breath—then she walked out the door. A spiraling staircase presented itself, all massive stone blocks leading down without a guardrail in sight.
“Watch your step,” Auber’s voice murmured from within the shadows beside her, and she jumped, tripping forward. He caught her arm before she plummeted over the edge.
“Why isn’t there a rail!” she demanded. Everything in her constricted at his frigid touch, but for all his stature, fangs, and glowing eyes, he was astonishingly gentle.
Auber set her aright and drew back his hand. “It deters escape. Or, at the least, slows you down.” In spite of those words, he began his descent at a casual pace. “Try to keep up. I’m sure the baby hearts are burning.”
Fayre froze against the wall no sooner than his snort echoed up at her. Swallowing the bitterness resting on the back of her tongue, she clung to the stone and descended behind him.
Once out of the tower, a long hall lined with dozens of mirrors streamed before her, vacant. Massive. How far from home was she if she had never heard of this palace before?
Auber’s gaze on her reflected in one of the mirrors, and she stilled. He hadn’t answered her clearly before, so what was he? Did he really not have a heart? Had dark magic deformed him?
A chill cut down Fayre’s spine, and she wrapped her arms around her chest as she continued her pace behind him. She couldn’t start believing in magic. Belief would give it power over her.
Whatever otherworldly creature Auber was didn’t matter. She would find a way back home and let these memories drift out of her mind, like a nightmare. The outline of a nightmare. Something in her stomach fluttered, and she paused in her step.
What if Auber had managed to take her so far from home that she could leave, leave without a trace? Find her adventure in some distant land that Roald could never reach?
“Are you coming?” The monster stopped several paces in front of her, looking back. A glimmer of amusement sparked in his gaze when she met it. “You look like you’ve found some discarded scrap of hope.”
Steeling herself, Fayre frowned.
“I assure you—” He began walking again. “—this fortress is quite impenetrable to most humans.”
Content to ignore his words, Fayre peered down every offshooting path, looking to find the entrance or a window that wasn’t barred. All that greeted her were mirrors. Hundreds and hundreds of mirrors.
A low creak pulled her attention to Auber as he shoved open gold-trimmed doors into a banquet hall. When he walked in, dozens of candles lit in his wake like a breeze of flame. Once live, they illuminated the room from their strewn placement upon the floor in the corners, casting flickering light over the shattered walls.
Instead of plaster, broken glass lined the interior, and Fayre stilled in the doorway, her head spinning faster the longer she stared.
“I wouldn’t look at the walls directly. It can be disorienting.” Auber reclined into a seat at the head of a long, chestnut table and grinned. “Especially for a frail human.”
Heart pounding, Fayre entered. “Humans aren’t frail.”
“Oh, of course not. My mistake.” His words belied the dismissing tone, albeit poorly. He extended a hand to the place setting beside him, and Fayre scanned the table. Golden fruits sat in a bowl beside another brimming with silver pods. A tray of buttered rolls and one of biscuits filled the air with an enticing scent that made her mouth water.
Realizing her hunger, and realizing little could be done on an empty stomach, Fayre conceded to take her seat.
Auber reached for the pods first, sucked fruit out of the skin, and licked his lips with his black tongue. “Don’t hold back on my account.”
She shivered. “What is that?”
“Sterling fruit.” He grabbed another and lapped juice off his fingers. “A delicacy in lands past yours.”
“How far from my land are we?”
Flashing fangs were her only response, so she clenched her fists against her apron and glanced around. The broken glass danced in the firelight, sparking green, then blue, then every shade in between. “Why are there so many mirrors?”
“Surveillance.”
The single word made her tense, and she half expected to find eyes peer
ing at her between the cracks. Only her own fractured reflection looked back. Forcing herself to remain calm, she lifted a roll off a tray and turned it over in her hand. A sticky residue clung to her fingers, but she dared to taste it and found it sweet. Licking the glaze off, she asked, “Is it just us here?”
Auber searched the chamber, then shrugged. “No. But you reek like a human, so no one wants to be near you.”
Fayre’s stomach turned at the implication more inhuman creatures roamed the shadows. “If no one around you likes humans much, what’s the use of keeping one?”
A sigh filtered past Auber’s lips. “I’ve already—”
Her nerves snapped. “I know. The man you claim is my father owed you. What sick world do you live in if a person is acceptable payment?”
“Clearly not the sheltered one you come from if you think you aren’t surrounded by such illness.” His tone remained conversational, but the dark pits of his eyes broiled. “Be careful, little human; it is in bad taste to anger a good man, but there’s a good chance you won’t survive angering a bad one. Am I clear?”
Her breaths shortened, but she lifted her head. “About as clear as this glass.”
Auber snorted, relaxing and lifting another pod to his mouth. “Amusement.” He sucked the fruit out. “That is most definitely your worth.”
The tense atmosphere didn’t lift throughout supper, and afterwards Auber returned her to the tower, bidding her goodnight as though she were a guest not a prisoner. When he had gone, and she could no longer hear his boots against the stairs, she returned to the barred window and sat on the dresser, staring out at the ghastly picture of the woods painted in the light of the crescent moon.
Tears built in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Somehow, she would escape, then if she could find her courage, she would flee. Flee the constraints of her home, of marriage, of everything that tried to take the jumbled fragments of her soul away. This was a good thing, whatever this was. It was an opportunity to be free.
With gentle lies soothing her mind, Fayre rested her head against the iron bars and inhaled the dull metallic scent. It calmed her at first, then gradually carried her to sleep.
3
Several days passed, each more hopeless than the last. Fayre shuffled through the cabinets in the bathroom for the tenth time that morning, hoping to find anything that might help her escape.
Bottles of ointments. Soap. Bandages. But nothing of value in her mission. Yesterday, she had shredded one roll of linen and taken it with her in her apron pocket when Auber had fetched her for lunch. Dropping pieces as she followed him, she hoped to solidify some clear path in the labyrinth, but when he returned her to the tower, the threads had vanished.
Worse still, upon her bed lay a new roll of bandages—perhaps the same she had ruined.
Frustration burbled through her chest and up her throat as she slammed the cabinet door closed.
A low whistle snapped her attention to the doorway. “That was an interesting sound.”
Her eyes narrowed on Auber. “Don’t you knock before entering a lady’s chamber?” Dusting her skirts off, she stood and pushed past him. He moved aside, leaning against the wall when she collapsed onto the mattress.
“Was there a lady here? The noise I just heard sounded more like a mating boar.” His lips rested in a permanent, humorous curve. “Pardon my confusion.”
“You’re despicable.” She averted her gaze.
“I won’t pretend not to be, but I do come bearing gifts.”
Inhaling and exhaling on a rhythm, Fayre avoided huffing like a child. “Unless it’s a key or a map to this place, I doubt I want it.”
He chuckled, gliding from the bathroom doorway to her side in less steps than should have been possible. “Now, why would you need either of those things? Don’t you like it here? It has a thrilling view.”
She glanced out at the dark woods, sickness stirring in her stomach. An unpleasant thought whispered through her mind, suggesting the view from Roald’s palace may not be at all too different. Distaste didn’t hide from her tone. “I’ve spent my whole life dreading the moment I would be locked away like a bird in a cage. I have to admit, I didn’t think that moment would come with physical bars.”
Auber watched her until the long second stretched into something uncomfortable. At last, he turned on his heel and approached the window, hovering his hand near the metal. “Hm.” He shook his hand before pumping his fingers. “There’s nothing I can do about them presently. It would also be unfortunate if you got any ideas about throwing yourself out the window.” He snorted and focused on her. “My apologies, but would you like that gift?”
She deadpanned. “I’m vibrating with anticipation.”
“Humans. So ungrateful.”
“Men. So arrogant.” She stiffened when his long strides placed him a hair’s breadth from her knees. Countless horrors about what his “gift” might be screamed to life in her skull, but she held herself firm and unbreathing.
He leaned down, raising his hand between them, then snapped. “I believe you lost that.”
Weight settled on her thighs, drawing her gaze to the embellished Herbology resting upon new leather. Her shoulders relaxed. “How did you…”
“For the meantime, try to amuse yourself with something other than disorganizing the bathing room, please. I’ll be back come supper, little boar.”
She twitched, facing him as he rounded the bed on his way out the door. He left her with nothing more than a grin of flashing fangs and the soft click of a lock.
✶
Early the fourth morning, grey clouds blanketed the sky, and large snowflakes drifted over the world. As far as Fayre could see, ice clung to the black branches in the forest, glistening in the muted sunlight.
The chill in the tower sunk deep into her bones as each of her breaths left her lips in a cloud of fog. Her nose burned, and she rubbed her hands together, drawing the bed comforter around her shoulders.
It had been spring yesterday.
Though of course that was the least of her concerns. If she managed to escape after the snow stuck, Auber could follow her trail with little effort. She had mere hours when the snow could work in her favor, covering any tracks she left.
Shedding the blanket, she snatched her herbology book, stood tall, and fought back the chills consuming her. All she had to do was get out and get into the woods. She had lived her life on the edge of a forest, learned all she could of the plants and animals found there. If she could get out and into the comfort of the trees, her whole future lay before her.
No hint of footsteps on stone stairs marred the quiet, so she approached the door, reaching for the handle, ready to force it open. It didn’t take much work, and Fayre’s eyes widened. Had it been unlocked the whole time?
Not to say the labyrinth of mirrors wasn’t secure, but she had yet to see anyone save Auber himself. Leaving a prisoner in an unlocked room in an unguarded tower wasn’t inept, it was arrogant.
And somehow, that wasn’t a surprising trait.
A wry smile curled her lips as she slipped down the rail-less steps and stared at the long hall. It would serve him right having his arrogance repaid. She only wished she had thought to try the door sooner and been rid of him days ago.
Exhaling a puff of frigid air, she clung to her book and began through the palace, turning right at every offshoot. No matter which hall she encountered, everything continued to look the same. Her fingers grew numb the longer she walked. She blew some heat over them, but the brief moments of relief did little to soothe the stinging red.
“Brilliant,” she spoke through her burning throat, “I’m going to die in the gut of this horrid place. I wish Mother could see me, huddled on the floor clutching a book on plants. Truly ’twas how little Fayre was meant to go.”
Absently, she glanced in a mirror as she passed, then froze, sarcasm sucked from her veins.
Two gleaming eyes stared at her, and white teeth glinted. Fa
yre spun, finding Auber a fair distance behind her at the start of the hall. He turned his gaze away from the mirror nearest him and tilted his head.
“Hello.” The word floated to her ears, making her breath catch at the calm, dangerous quiet lacing the syllables. Like a deer beneath a predator’s stare, she remained perfectly still, heart thundering while he approached. He stopped before her, looking down. “What are you doing here, little boar?”
She flinched at the unflattering nickname.
His hand reached out, prying one of hers off the book. As he examined the patchy red skin, his eyes narrowed. “Other than freezing to death, of course.”
Without warning and without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and towed her along behind him, winding through the numberless halls with disconcerting ease. Two flights of stairs later, he tugged her into a bedroom and left her at the door.
Like the tower, this room was also dark and sterile, bare of anything but the necessities at a glance. A large bed sat in the center, bordered by two nightstands, and two unbarred windows.
The assurance that accessible windows did indeed exist in this place was likely the best thing Fayre had discovered all week.
“Don’t mind me,” Auber commented, shuffling through a massive armoire. He shook his hand, then snapped. A crackle burst on the other side of the room, and she jumped, glancing at a fireplace in the moment it exploded to life. “Warm yourself,” he added, and returned to the hanging clothes before him.
Unable to deny the offered heat, she settled herself in front of the flames, letting them envelope her.
“What were you doing wandering around?” Auber asked seconds after she had let her guard down.
Tensing, she replied, “It’s snowing.”
He turned his head toward the nearest window. “Imagine that.”
She kept him in her peripheral, lacing her tone with the same sarcastic abandon as he had. “I wanted to build a snowman.”
“It hasn’t stuck yet.” He laughed, whirling with a cloak over his arm.
“I figured by the time I managed to get to it, it would have,” she snapped.