by Rebecca Grey
With a heavy sigh, Randin grabbed my shoulder to steady me. He shook his head, his lips moving like he was griping to himself but no sound admitted or entered my mind. He bent, his shoulder meeting my waist as he lifted me over his back.
“So sorry, I can’t easily walk myself to the rope you wish to hang me with,” I growled. Gasping, I tried to wiggle free. As brave as I tried to be, I wasn’t ready for whatever fate Ganglin had waiting for me. And I was absolutely not going to be presented to him like a sack of potatoes.
A hearty huff of air left Randsin, his feet stopping and his steady hands setting me down. His signature frown tugged hard toward the ground, a flash of annoyance in his gaze as he motioned for me to walk before he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.
It took me one step to land with a wild crack ringing through my bones. Simply, I was too weak.
“Where ar–”
Randsin’s eyes turned to saucers and he covered my mouth with his hands. Without sound he threw his hands in the air and then brought a single finger back to his full lips.
He grunted while he threw me back over his shoulder in one swift movement, but I doubted it was from bearing my weight. We passed other cells, just mere holes carved into the walls with heavy doors bolted over them varying in size. Each filled with its own inhabitants sent down for crimes that surely didn’t fit this punishment. Randsin’s steps were light and quiet as he made his way past the cellars to a part of the manor I wasn’t familiar with.
Lights faded to the distance as I bounced against his back. He dragged me off into near darkness, my vision blurry and difficult. I doubted he needed much light for his perfect fae sight.
What was he doing with me? What were his plans? Were they to dispose of me quietly?
I watched the passing stone floors eventually turn to dirt as what light we did have faded. I was now blind and bounding against Randsin’s shoulders like a lightweight backpack. It took what felt like hours, but I was starting to think I wasn’t so good at guessing the time. Eventually, I couldn’t keep counting the minutes and the sway of his walk had sweet talked my eyes into closing.
Light flooded through overlapping branches when I woke, blinking my eyes carefully. It had only been a minute ago that I had allowed my eyes to briefly rest. A soft cotton blanket lay underneath me, blades of grass still poked through to prickle against my skin. The tree limbs kept us mostly shaded from the sun, now at its highest point, except for the few places where it attempted to blind me.
I sat up and all the blood rushed to my head leaving me spinning. My damp shirt clung to me, drenched in sweat. I tried to look around, connect with something that made this moment feel real.
With a tentative glance, I found Randsin leaning against a nearby tree, eating some sort of small animal he had cooked up over the fire roaring near his feet. The scorched flesh of what appeared to be a half eaten squirrel tore away from the bones as he hastily enjoyed his dinner. The warm scent of meat filled my nose and reminded me of my hunger. Saliva pooled in my mouth.
“Is this the afterlife?” I asked. I sounded like an idiot.
Randsin chuckled and shook his head.
Alrighty then. I’m still alive.
“Have I been asleep for long?” What sleep I had gotten was near heavenly. A heavier sleep than I have had in years.
He merely nodded as he chewed on his food. It wasn’t specific enough.
“A day?” My voice squeaked.
Shaking his head he held up three fingers.
“And how long was I in the cellar?” I questioned as I sat forward with my legs crossed.
Randsin’s deep brown eyes rolled, and his lips grew to a scowl as he set down his meal and held up two fingers.
“Oh.” I chewed my lip, wishing it were a taste of that meat. “Can you tell me where we are going?” Because we are clearly going somewhere and it wasn’t to see Ganglin.
Randsin ignored my question and tossed me a squirrel tied up and cooked against a stick. He didn’t say a word or make another gesture to explain. His eyes would wander the woods occasionally and when he met my gaze he would quickly look away.
The meat was good, though it was tough. I was thankful for any food I could get my hands on. My throat and mouth were painfully dry as I choked down every piece of meat my teeth could scrape from the bone. Randsin offered me the small jug of water before he resumed his own meal with a look of mild amusement. I chugged down every drop of water from the canister.
I tried to stand, still a bit shaky, however, I was able to do so without falling over. Improvement! I looked at my left hand which was still pretty gnarly and misshapen. Frowning, I wondered when my slow paced healing would set the bones.
As I curled into the tree, Randsin stood and walked towards me. He looked at me with pity glancing at my hands then at his. His eyes were sad as if he understood me. I turned to look away this time. I didn’t want his pity or his understanding. He was fae just like the rest.
Crouching, our feet were toe to toe, and he brought his hands up as if to touch my face. I scrunch my eyebrows at his gesture. He hesitated, but then cupped my cheeks, his scarred hands rough against my skin.
The briefest thought passed through my mind before I pushed it away. Dace’s hands wouldn’t be rough like this. They would be soft. Coddled hands. I hated his spoiled life as much as I hate Randsin’s touch now.
Slowly, a cold spread through my face, icy fingers reached for my brain and wrapped around my mind. Randsin didn’t ever physically speak but I could hear him talking now. His voice was deep and as rough as his hands.
“You are much stronger than you think.” His cold voice bounced off the walls of my mind. “We are yet a day’s journey from our destination if you let me carry you, and we go at my speed. Otherwise, if you want to be stubborn and walk, it could take a few extra days.”
“Are you saving me?”
“You can answer that for yourself when we get there.”
My thoughts circled to find an answer amongst his vague nature. “You’re taking me to the Acture Court aren’t you? Did Ganglin really put you up to this?” Shock, joy, and the nervous anticipation of pain flickered through me.
His answering reply stuttered. “It’s not like you think, and it isn’t by Ganglin’s hand. It’s just easier to show you than to tell you. But by now I’m sure Ganglin has noticed both mine and your absence and people will be out looking for us. He will not accept my disappearance, again. Our only advantage is our lead.”
I had never known a time when Randsin hadn’t been in the Heathern Court. As the king’s head guard he lived, breathed, and survived on the handlings of the Heathern Court. Routine became his sanity. His lips were pursed as he felt the tension of the unknown, too. Like he had experienced it before and he didn’t like it.
Part of me felt smug that I was getting my wish to go to the Acture Court but part of me was terrified it was as bad as I heard it was. Daethian would be there. Daethian would be my saving and I his.
But why would Randsin sneak me out of the Heathern Court just to take me to the Acture Court?
“We can go at your speed.” I stare up into his taunt features. “But I have questions.”
He nodded, his brown eyes darkening as he rolled them. “Well come on now, out with it.”
“Why are you helping me?”
He paused for a minute, almost stroking the side of my face as his thumb traveled from my temple to my cheekbone before his words reached my thoughts. “I’ll admit I’m a bit fond of you and Daethian. I see a little of myself in you. But I promised Windre I would keep you as safe as I could, given the situation. I owe him my life so it is the least I could do.” He let go of my face stepping back as he did to balance his hands on his hips. His cheeks darkened to crimson.
A fae being fond of a nymph. This was unheard of. It had to be in the way that owners often became fond of their pets. Daethian and I, we were still objects.
“Oh,” I whispered, “Was I�
� was I sentenced to death?” I knew the truth, I just wanted to hear it for myself. I was a glutton for punishment like that.
Instead of his words this time, I saw an image. My body, bent, weak, and bruised. Both arms were outstretched, tied with ropes to hold me up before Ganglin in the courtyard. A knife blade cut the word ‘thief’ across my back, a whip slicing through the air until it ripped me open. Blood pooled at my knees. I could feel it. I could feel it all. The pain reverberated through me and into my backbones as if I was there, living it now. I twisted away from him, slamming myself into the tree.
Randsin distanced himself more, holding his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t mean to let you feel the pain.”
I nodded, not trusting that it was the truth. Slowly, he lowered his hands, the icy hold on my mind snaking down my body with them. It was so odd to see a softer side to Randsin, if that’s what this was. A side that wasn’t mocking or unamused by my actions. Perhaps he was ill?
Without making any further eye contact, he busied himself by picking up the small amount of items we had with us. Everything gathered easily into a small pack he fastened to his belt. He reached down tossing loose dirt on the dwindling flames until the fire smothered away to dust. Randsin offered me a smile that looked more like a frown and swiftly turned and offered me his back. I guess riding piggyback was better than being presented like a sack of potatoes. Especially if it got me to Daethian faster.
His chin lifted then dropped in a small nod as I got situated. Two firm hands looped around and gripped my thighs before he took off at a run. The view as he sprinted was blurs of green and brown, the occasional sprinkle of color as we passed wild flowers. The speed made my stomach spin, the remnants of the squirrel threatening to come back up. I tucked my head down and nuzzled my face into his neck to avoid watching the streaks of color flying by. I could hear the animals as we raced but never once did I hear Randsin’s trained steps, never did he falter.
Occasionally, I peeked up to check the position of the sun above us. It was hard to pinpoint with all the movement but about half of a day had passed before Randsin slowed his pace and came to a stop. His chest was purged with ragged breathing, fatigue starting to show in his slumping shoulders. He froze. With well trained eyes and intense fae hearing he remained alert as he dropped me from his back and pushed me against a tree trunk. He grabbed my hand and his tether of cold wormed its way up my arm. “Someone is here. Their scent is covered so I can’t identify them. But I feel them. Stay here, they are close.”
He crept away and vanished from my sight. I could almost hear the mumbling of people approaching where I stood. Pieces of bark scratched at my skin as I willed myself to conform and be one with the tree. If I had my magic, I could.
Voices grew louder, yet, only yards away from me. A male voice caught mid-sentence, whispering that someone was near. I heard a quick shuffling and a deep grunt. Randsin must have made himself known from wherever he had gone. But it wasn’t long before I heard a familiar voice shout, “Woah, woah, wait… Randsin?”
That voice, his voice, like music to my ears. I threw myself off the tree and stumbled into the clearing before me. Randsin was standing above Daethian who was scuffed up a bit and laying on the ground, arms up in surrender. His hair was a messy array of dark brown that matched the stubble on his face. He was broader than the last time I saw him too, I could see the stack of muscles on his stomach where his shirt had been mussed up.
“Oh by the mother, Ryker.” Daethian breathed a sigh of relief, a lopsided grin spreading smooth like butter in a pan. Randsin lowered his arms and offered him a hand.
Tears of joy sprung to my eyes as I stumbled forward, my arms reaching to my friend. My vision blurred as I tried to contain my excitement. Daethian was here. Daethian was alive. Daethian was… thriving?... happy?
Red flashed before me, the sting of a pinpoint stabbing into my neck. The movement was so fast as a syringe broke the skin and the world began to spin around me. My trembling fingers tried to close around Daethian’s hands, still too far away. Black began to bloom like fresh flowers in my sight. I tried to glance back at my attacker only getting a look at those evergreen eyes. As the world around me faded, I could still hear Daethian shout, “What the fuck?” Then my body began to topple to the side, and the world burnt down.
TWELVE
Milo
Impressive wasn’t a word I used lightly. And I was fucking impressed by the space the king had granted his guards. He treated his people with love and the respect they deserved, unlike my queen. At least, that’s what I thought up until I heard the whispers of his wrath.
Surely it wouldn’t be an issue though his people must follow his orders and comply happily given the life he provided for them. If the only rule was don’t piss off the king, I thought I’d be able to follow it.
Along with the room filled with furniture, more expensive than my queen would have provided a guard, they tossed me a bag of coins just for joining and being loyal to the king. Money. Much more currency than I’d ever held in my hands. I couldn’t help but take a few pieces out of the hefty bag and tuck them away under the mattress of the plump bed.
Tight leather, brand new and uncreased, covered my boots and bits of the new uniform, the finest most expensive materials in Tierasia. Were they not such a prized item here or was the king just so fond of his guards he condoned such a pricey purchase?
A light tap against my door had me looking up to see who was entering my new chambers. Marcus stepped in, his arms outstretched and a wide grin adding a few wrinkles to his cheeks. “Good morning, friend. How are you enjoying your new room?”
A smile, a real smile, lifted my lips. “I am mighty impressed.” There it was I said the word again. “Never in my travels did I have such a fine life.”
Mix a little truth in with the lies and they’ll always believe you.
Marcus shuffled around my room, looking at the intricately carved dresser, the dark stained desk with the roll top door, and my bed fit for three people or more. I’m sure he had seen many rooms just like it, but he looked amazed like it was his first time. He moved closer to me, running his boot along mine leaving behind a trail of dirt and a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“I hope you don’t get too comfortable.” He laughed easily.
“I beg your pardon.” I sat up to give him my full attention. Something in Marcus’s posture changed, something different than the friendly man I was starting to know.
I caught his eye as it stilled on the bag of coins where I had left it on my dresser. “You see Milo. Everything comes at a price.”
A shiver ran up my spine. I crossed the space to where Marcus now stood with his hand resting against the bag. I too put my hand up, brushing past him to hold the top of the pouch. “I didn’t know I was in the market to buy something.”
“Tell me something, lad, where is it you really came from? Do you think me a fool to believe that you travelled about your entire life? That your looks came from your mother, who happened to be born of another court but decided to pledge herself to my king. Tell me your real story.”
“Have you chosen a different profession now, Marcus? Thought you might become an author, write a book? Good authors don’t steal stories from those they are trying to assert their authority over.”
Marcus gripped the bag tighter. “How much would you pay to keep your secret safe from the king? Think of it like a tax. A tax on all of this.” With his other hand he pointed toward the luxury I was assigned to live in. The false image of security I was making up in my mind just moments before had already begun to dissolve before my very eyes.
If it wasn’t the king's wrath in this land that plagued these people it was those like Marcus who thought their position made them greater.
I hummed a laugh, unable to keep it contained. We are all destined to live the same lives we were born into, I knew that now. How was I to be a great leader that helped remove Atarah from her throne when I was merely born to ser
ve and be taken advantage of?
“How much is this tax?”
“That’s a good boy, Milo,” Marcus said. “Cost you half the sack and no worries, your secret is safe with me. Mums the word.”
I’m sure the look on my face said it all. The deep scowl I didn’t bother to hide. Screw Marcus. Screw this court. Screw this whole mission.
Slowly, I released my own grip on the bag stepping away and crossing my arms across my chest. “Let’s just call it a gift to a friend.”
“I like that. Friend. See you in training later.” Marcus lifted the bag and let me watch as the coin that had just been given to me tumbled out into his greedy hands. “Thanks.” He lifted his palm up to me, his salute to me before he left me alone in my room again.
I glared at the door until I shook away my confusing thoughts and headed through the halls to the kitchen. My attempt to cover up my ill feelings toward Marcus was small nods to the guards as I passed in the halls. If I stormed about all moody I knew I was bound to get questions about the stick that had been firmly placed up my rear end. Better to be fake friendly than draw attention to myself, more than I already had.
When I finally reached the kitchen the servants were busy cleaning from breakfast. The nymphs. I understand they were creatures different from the fae but I wondered what exactly that meant. Not to mention, why were they slaves? Don’t get me wrong, I understood every race had a hierarchy, the status in which we all lived our lives. I was born into the queen's guard as the son of a kitchen maid and a soldier in her army. If there was anyone who understood serving your role in the race you were born to, it was me.
But what or who would take it so far to take away the giftings of someone else and force them to serve in your courts? The nymphs were clearly much more clever than a horse or other animals of the wild and yet they were more submissive? I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea. Had it always been this way?