The Faceless Woman_A Retelling of the Swan Princess

by Emma Hamm

  The Otherworld was filled with people who used magic. They weren’t like her, but no one could see her face. Was it really all that dangerous?

  Her grandmother would say yes. She’d never told Aisling what would happen if she went there. She only said time and time again that her life would change forever.

  Aisling blew out a breath and nodded. “You’re right.”

  “No reason for hesitation.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Just jump right through that portal, and we’ll break this binding curse.”

  “All I have to do is jump.”

  The Unseelie scratched the ground with a talon. “You aren’t jumping.”

  “Shouldn’t you go first?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “I’ve never been to the Otherworld. Who knows what might be waiting for us?”

  “Where did you put the portal?”

  She shrugged. “Wherever there was a spot for it. Somewhere in Unseelie, considering that’s where you wanted to go.”

  Aisling watched him swear, grumble, and then turn toward the portal with a livid expression.

  “Unseelie isn’t a safe place. You can’t put us just anywhere.”

  “Well, that’s what I did.”

  “It’s a foolish decision, although I suppose I should have expected it to come from a witch who curses people without discretion.” He paused at the edge of the portal and pointed at her. “You follow me in the next few heartbeats or we’re both dead. Got it?”

  “Painfully.”

  “Good.”

  He stepped forward and the red liquid laced up his legs. Tendrils pulled down on the fabric folds of his clothing. The last thing she heard was his cry of disgust before he was sucked down into the writhing mass.

  Aisling glanced down at Lorcan. “No time to hesitate.”

  “It has to be better than death, right?”

  She wasn’t so certain of that. Still, she swung the Unseelie’s pack onto her back, held her breath, and jumped through the portal.

  The Blood Of A Dead God

  Aisling opened her mouth in a silent scream as the portal hurtled her between worlds. The red fluid squeezed, wrapping around her ribs and chest like a snake tightly coiling. She couldn’t breathe, think, exist in this pulsating pain.

  She tried to call out for Lorcan but couldn’t force sound through her throat. He had to be here with her. He had to make it because he was the only thing she had left. Aisling tried to struggle against the cords of magic, but it only made the vise around her chest tighten even further.

  And then all pain disappeared as she was spit out onto the ground.

  Coughing, she rid her body of the lingering magic that stuck to her. The muck slid back toward the open portal in a sluggish crawl.

  It spat a furred body at her that she caught against her chest. Lorcan scratched wildly, hissing and cursing magic for all he was worth.

  “Shhh” she soothed. “We survived it Lorcan. Enough.”

  “Get off me!”

  “Stop trying to run. We don’t know where we are.”

  “Let go!”

  The Unseelie’s raspy voice broke through their argument. “I’d let the cat go if I were you, witch.”

  “He’s going to run off and we’ll never find him again, Unseelie.”

  “I can feel every scratch he’s opening up on your body, and I don’t appreciate the annoyance. Let him go, now.” The steel in his voice warned he was about to get angry.

  Considering they were in the Otherworld, she had no idea what he could do. Were faeries more powerful here? She was loathe to find out.

  She released her grip on Lorcan, who took off through the thicket like something had caught his tail on fire. Glowering, she stared up at the Unseelie even though he couldn’t see her glare.

  “See?” she snapped. “Now he’s gone, and we have to wait for him to find us.”

  “I think he’ll catch up.”

  “I’m not leaving him here.”

  “Would you stop talking for a moment, witch, and look around you? You’re in the Otherworld for the first time. Enjoy it.”

  She bristled at his tone, but curiosity got the better of her. Sighing, she glanced around, and the sight of the Otherworld stole her breath away.

  Trees with trunks wider than houses grew tall and strong. Their branches were not the tangled mess of twigs she knew, but instead grew in recognizable patterns. Branches formed into outlines of flowers, leaves, and tiny creatures. Leaves burst throughout the patterns, giving the animals furry outlines and the plants a lifelike quality.

  Under her hands, the earth was soft and loamy. She dug her fingers into the moss and gasped as it released a puff of sweet pollen into the air.

  Everything was so green. It stung her eyes until they watered. A spear of light illuminated the forest while golden orbs danced in its light amidst dust and magic. Moss covered the ground, stretched up the trees like a crop of emeralds. Dew drops glittered like pearls strewn across the ground and trees.

  “Oh,” she whispered in awe.

  “What do you think of my home, witch?”

  “It’s almost impossible to describe.”

  He knelt in front of her, blocking her view of the exquisite forest. Air whooshed from her lungs as she looked upon him in a new light. Everything about the Unseelie fit in this wild place. Tinged with the colors of growing things, his unusual hair fluttered in the slight breeze. Spiraled branches outlined his head like the horns of a god.

  Above all else, he held himself with a confidence that surpassed anything she had seen before. He held himself like a lord of man, like a champion, like… Her mouth gaped open.

  Like a king.

  “Who are you?” she quietly asked.

  “I am known by many names. But here, they call me Prince of the Unseelie Court, the Lord of Darkness, Heir to the Kingdoms of Night.”

  Her fingertips went numb. “You’re…you’re a royal?”

  “If you want to call it that.” He reached out as if he wanted to touch her cheek, his hand hovering between them. “My brothers are first in line. It’s unlikely I’ll ever be king.”

  King? King of the Unseelie court? She couldn’t comprehend what he was telling her.

  “So you mean to tell me I cast a binding curse on not just any Tuatha de Danann, which is bad enough, but on an heir to the Unseelie throne?”

  “You are correct.”

  Aisling smacked his hand out of the air and shrieked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She was a dead woman walking then, because the Unseelie wouldn’t take it well that she’d essentially killed their son. Why had she come here? Grandmother was right, and everything was going to change because she wasn’t going to be breathing by tomorrow morning.

  “Why would I have told you?” Laughter lightened his voice.

  “Are you kidding me?” She shoved his shoulders with both hands. He barely moved, so she did it again, grunting as she struck him. “You’ve killed me, you ridiculous man! I cursed an Unseelie prince.”

  “I told you it surprised me.” He obliged and let her shove him onto his rump. “No one has ever dared to curse me before.”

  “With good reason! They’d have the entire Unseelie court hunting them down.” She pulled at her hair. “Oh gods, I’m going to have to go into hiding. I never should have let you talk me into coming here. Death would be better than what the Unseelie will do to me.”

  “No one is going to hunt you down.”

  “I cursed a royal. Of course, they’re going to hunt me down! An eye for an eye, a heart for a heart.”

  “They’re not going to seek retribution.” He stood, wiping dirt off his backside.

  She had to hide. She had to run, although she didn’t know where to go in these cursed lands. The portal wasn’t an option. As soon as she stepped through, their binding curse would be severed, and they both would die.

  Was that better? Aisling didn’t know. Living was the ideal solution, but was it l
iving if the Unseelie Fae were pulling her apart bit by bit?

  “Witch.”

  “Stop talking, I’m trying to figure out how to keep myself alive.”

  “Witch!” He stepped in front of her and pulled her hands from her hair. “Stop it. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

  She froze, staring up at him. “Why would you say that?”

  “You’re going to help me break the curse, aren’t you? That’s enough to make amends.”

  “That’s not the Unseelie way.”

  He arched a brow, the raven eye fixated on her. She realized it was staring directly into her gaze. “What do you know of the Unseelie way?”

  “Enough to know that it goes against your rules.”

  “We have no rules, love. That’s why we’re Unseelie.” The Unseelie gave her a grin that set a fire burning deep in her belly, turned on his heel, and walked away.

  She was stunned. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her? He was going against everything he was, everything his people were, just to make a point? She knew faeries liked to play with humans, but what was the point of this?

  “Are you whistling?” she called after him.

  “Do keep up, witch. We’re in the Otherworld after all.”

  He had a point.

  She sighed and glanced back at the portal, her last moment to decide if she wanted to make a break for it or decide he wasn’t lying to her.

  Aisling shrugged and started after him. Faeries couldn’t lie, and if he was twisting his words, then he was fantastic at it. This was a rare opportunity, and she planned to fight tooth and nail to make certain it didn’t end with her head separated from her body.

  The brush cracked and shook and then a furry, black body burst out of the brambles and raced through the forest after the Unseelie. Lorcan bounded across emerald green moss, launched himself off the side of a trunk, gracefully arched in the air before he landed on the pads of his feet.

  “Aisling, you’re too slow,” he shouted.

  “Are you happy to be here?”

  “Of course. It’s the Otherworld, you foolish girl!”

  Even her “not” familiar liked this place more than the human world. Shouldering the weight of the Unseelie’s pack, she shook her head and started after them, taking her time.

  Thankfully, there was still human food left. It wouldn’t sustain her for a long time, but she wasn’t going to touch anything in the Otherworld until she was certain she could return to the human realm. The legends all said a person who ate of faerie food or drank faerie wine would be stuck here forever.

  It wouldn’t be the worst place to be stuck. She reached out and touched a tree, marveling at the silver bark. Even the plants were a hundred times more elegant than those she had grown up with. Leaves fell in slow motion, tree trunks looked like molten silver, and roots poked through the ground, curled in spiral patterns.

  How was it possible for a place to be so beautiful and yet so dangerous?

  She followed the Unseelie for an entire cycle of the sun. She counted their steps at times, but lost track of the numbers as soon as something magical crossed their path.

  They passed through a part of the forest darkened by a canopy so thick no light broke through the trees. She hopped over a log and gasped when a creature raised a horned head. Its legs were that of a goat, its face sloped with a flattened nose. Twin ram horns grew out of its skull and circular tattoos swirled over its cheeks.

  The faerie bowed its head, sagely nodding in her direction. She saw its overly large eyes widen when it realized it couldn’t see her face.

  They burst from the darkness and followed a river snaking through the forest. The trees were larger here, the size of a castle in width, but short and stout. Their branches were twisted into pathways where faeries walked across the twined wood. The faeries captivated her with their odd forms, their beautiful faces, and the grace with which they moved.

  The Unseelie reached into his pack and pulled out a cloak. He wrapped it around her shoulders with a curt nod. “Best not to attract attention.”

  Aisling pulled the hood of the cloak low over her face. The last thing she needed was for someone to question why they couldn’t see her face. There wasn’t a very good answer.

  A woman toiled in her garden, gently fanning her lettuce with giant butterfly wings. A man walked past them with pointed ears and mushrooms growing from his shoulders. Over and over again, new and impossible features filled her senses until she was near to bursting.

  Aisling reached forward and tugged the Unseelie’s sleeves. “Are they all like this?”

  “All?” He glanced over his shoulder with an unreadable expression. “This is the Unseelie court, witch. Only the ugly and deformed live here.”

  Her jaw fell open as he walked away from her. Ugly? Deformed?

  She raced to catch up to him, feet nimble as she ran over tree roots and fallen stumps. “Ugly? But these creatures are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen!”

  “Tell that to the Seelie court.”

  “But I thought—” She paused as a lumbering beast walked past them. “My grandmother always said that Seelie or Unseelie was a choice.”

  “Sometimes. Other times, a creature doesn’t fit in with what the Seelie court deems appropriate.” He rolled his eyes, the raven eye continuing to roll when the other stopped. “Half the Unseelie are here because they aren’t beautiful enough. The other half degraded when they stopped following the Seelie court’s rigorous rules and did what they wanted.”

  Aisling furrowed her brow and thought about those implications. The Seelie court was rumored to be filled with the most beautiful creatures to ever live. It made sense they would condemn those who did not fit into their idea of beauty. But why? What was the point?

  “Unseelie…” she began.

  “I’m not explaining it any further, witch. Keep your attention on your feet until we get through this part of the forest.”

  When she stopped, Lorcan wound through her legs. He looked up at her with dilated eyes. “He’s probably right. There’s too many people who could overhear what we’re talking about.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t like it. He’s hiding something.”

  “Not everyone is trying to pull the wool over your eyes.” He flicked his tail. “If you loosened up a bit, you might see that.”

  “You’ve told me that a thousand times, and I’m still the same person I was years ago.”

  “Don’t you think that might be the problem?”

  Aisling frowned and called after him, “This isn’t about me!”

  The small faerie hovels fell away behind them, and the sound of the forest filled her ears. Birds didn’t chirp here; they sang. Their voices lifted up like a choir. She found her steps skipping to mimic the song.

  Why hadn’t she come to the Otherworld before when she’d opened the portal for the redheaded woman? It was marvelous and far more than she had ever expected from a place rumored to be cursed.

  The sun dipped below the horizon, pink and vibrant red filtering through the canopy. Each tree shifted from summer to autumn. A few leaves fell around her, and Aisling gasped as branches coiled in on themselves.

  “What is happening?” she asked.

  “It’s night,” the Unseelie replied. “They’re going to sleep.”

  “They sleep?”

  “Everything is more alive in the Otherworld than it is in the human realm. Trees are just as aware as you or I.”

  Aisling reached out and slid her hand along the bark of a particularly large tree. “Thank you for not squashing me with a root.”

  A shimmering fall of leaves rained down on her head. Glowering, she picked leaves out of her hair while the Unseelie burst into laughter.

  “It’s not funny,” she grumbled.

  “Yes, it is. The trees are laughing at you, witch. They don’t mean any harm.”

  Laughing? The branches were shivering, but she had thought they were annoyed, not laughing
. She backed away from the tree slowly, then raced after Lorcan and the Unseelie. The sound of their chuckles filled the air and gave her an easy trail to track.

  She found them setting up camp for the night in a valley between roots thicker than people. Hand over feet, she clambered down into the hollow and sat down hard on her rump.

  “Fire?” she asked.

  “In a forest of trees?” Bran chuckled.

  “Good point.” Unnerved, she patted the nearest root. “I wasn’t thinking. Not particularly friendly to suggest burning your castoffs, is it?”

  A sudden burst of light flared in the center of the hollow. Flinching back, she backed against a root. Blue flames crackled bright as a bonfire and nearly as tall.

  “I thought you said no fire?” she cried out.

  “Faerie fire is different. It doesn’t burn.” Flames danced in his eyes that sparkled with humor.

  “You enjoy unsettling me, Unseelie.”

  “A little too much.” He leaned back against a root nearby, crossed his legs at the ankles, and wiggled to wedge himself farther into the ground. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m not eating faerie food if that’s what you’re offering.”

  He waved a hand in the air, a perfect apple forming in his palm. “Shame. Faerie food is far superior than human food.”

  “Of course, it is. Just like faeries are superior to humans, is that it?”

  He took a large bite of the apple, juice dribbling down his chin. “I don’t give your intelligence enough credit. You’re catching on quick, witch.”

  “Don’t make me curse you again.”

  “I’d like to see you try while we’re here.”

  It was the second time he’d suggested he was stronger in the Otherworld. Aisling toyed with a loose thread on his stolen shirt and licked her lips. “Is faerie magic stronger here?”

  “In a way.” He stared up at the sky, lost in his own thoughts. “The Tuatha de Danann made this place as a haven for the Fae. We’re more powerful because this is a safe place for us. Happy, content people perform magic far better than those who are distracted by ill thoughts.”