When she looks up she is greeted by eyes with pupils so dilated his entire eyes look black. It is a Dakra male. He is well over six feet tall and towering above her. He looks like he’s confused, intrigued, and curious, all at once.
“What in Hellias name were you doing in the Darkwraith’s forest?” The strange male faces her. His eyebrows are pressed together creating a wrinkle between his brows. His worried gaze flickers between each of her eyes and waits for a response.
“I don’t know,” she responds still in a state of shock. “Darkwraith? Is that what that creature was?” She had never heard of a Darkwraith in her studies. She learned about many creatures, but this was not one of them.
The male looks at her as though she’s completely lost it. “Let’s get you to Cirvka.”
“Cirvka?” She tilts her head. Cirvka is a word that comes from the old language. It originated from the humans who told the fae stories from back in the mortal world. Stories of people performing at places called ‘circuses’ and ‘carnivals.’ A spectacle of fun tricks and entertaining outcasts.
Cirvka a magical place to watch magical things. She used to go to there multiple times when she was little. She would love to watch the Dakra performers use magic and sorcery or watch the hybrids put on shows. Her brothers on the other hand, loved to watch the brutal fights whether it was fighting with their fists or knife fighting. She heard from her father Cirvka is where low blooded citizens pay off debts. Majority of the performers are criminals who were forced into the work.
“You don’t understand—” She starts but doesn’t finish. All her life she has dreamt of a free life away from the castle. Maybe this is her chance. If this male takes her to Cirvka, she could perform and be adored. She could do something meaningful and exciting instead of being locked in her room. This might be her chance. She can taste it—freedom—and it tastes so good.
The male leads her into one of the nearest villages. She is mesmerized by the quaint houses, beings walking and playing in the streets, and merchants selling goods to those passing by. Even at night the village is lively. She has never been outside the castle except for the few trips she’s taken to Cirvka. Aside from those trips, she was never allowed outside the palace gates, let alone allowed to visit the villages. This new and exciting place has her blood pumping and her thoughts racing. There is no way she can return to the castle. Besides, going back would mean having a death wish because of her brother’s previous attempt at her life. She is certain that if she ever sees Arlo again, he’ll kill her.
There is no turning back. This is the first step to something new. The thought is exhilarating for Rowan. Her heart thumps in her chest rapidly and there’s a slight skip in her step. The dark male weaves through the village and toward the upbeat music playing in the distance. She can make out a large red and white striped tent. The tent is one she remembers quite fondly. She remembers being one of the hundreds of onlookers watching some of the most intoxicating performances she has ever seen.
As they approach Cirvka, she notices the entire facility is enclosed by ten feet tall black gates. Above the gates are three horizontal metal wires that seem to be hooked up to a generator of sorts. It is nothing like she has seen before. The entrance has a dark metal banner with the name ‘Cirvka’ engraved in black lettering. Underneath the sign are is separate booths—ticketers working to ensure all who enter have paid. The grounds are large, it’s nearly the size of an entire village. There are booths filled with low blooded workers, Dakra, humans, hybrids, and other creatures. The performers live and work here. Cirvka is their work as well as their life.
The male gives a curt nod to the ticketer working the booth and he lets them enter without a fuss. The male who saved her life grabs her by the wrist tugging her along. She asks him where they are going, but gets no response. He leads them away from the tents and the booths toward an area that is dim from lack of light. He crosses his arms asking, “Would you like to explain why you were in the woods?”
“I didn’t purposely wander into the woods. That thing you called a Darkwraith lured me in!”
He stares at her lips but his forehead creases once again with lack of certainty. “You should know better than to lurk near the Darkwraith forest at night. You could’ve gotten yourself killed had I not been there.” For the first time Rowan notices dark shadows looming off of him like a black mist constantly swirling and curling around him. “Every Dakra knows this. So tell me, what are you? Stupid or suicidal?”
Her face turns red with embarrassment and anger. “I’m neither and I’m certainly not Dakra.” Rowan spits the word like venom. She is too kind to be one of those destructive creatures.
“Cute,” he rolls his eyes. “Your glamour doesn’t fool me.”
She blinks a few times and jerks her head back. “Glamour? What in all of the gods names are you talking about?”
“Come on,” he chides. “I can see past your glamour. You really think disguising yourself as Shevka was going to fool a Darkwraith?”
Her eyes widen in surprise at his accusation. Was he blind? Clearly she is Shevka. She clenches her hands with frustration. Completely outraged. Confusion takes over and for the first time she is unsure of herself. She is Shevka, right? But she has never harnessed any of the light power she was supposed to.
What if that could explain her lack of magic? Maybe she truly isn’t Shevka.
“You’re mistaken,” she grits her teeth. “I’m not Dakra. Anyone with working eyes can see that.” She is ready to lash out on him for spitting such lies. Her hands ready to attack but she realizes he has her caged in. Her back is nearly against the gate behind her and he is looming over her, much taller and much stronger than she is.
The stranger who has brought her here is staring at her, calculating her every move, her every facial expression. His body is blocking her in this area without any chance of escape. Without any chance of turning back.
She gulps realizing the answer to his previous question: she must be stupid.
* * *
CHAPTER TWO
Rowan begins to feel the idiocy of her actions for letting a stranger bring her here. Then she starts to remember how desperate she is for this. How desperate she is to escape her life as Princess Rowan. There’s no way she can go back to the castle, she’s no longer welcome and there’s nothing even the king can protect her from now. Once Arlo sees something as a threat he will stop at nothing to eliminate it.
She can trust this male, can’t she? He saved her in the woods. Had it not been for him, she would have been killed by that bloodthirsty creature.
Being in this strange place, with a strange male, who saved her from a strange thing, gives her heightened feelings of trepidation and uncertainty.
Then she realizes this uncertainty is simply fear of the unknown. The unknown of what her life is going to be like as a princess in hiding surrounded by all the low bloods at Cirvka. She is certain that leaving the castle is for the best, along with the fact that returning will get her killed. But something lead her here to this moment.
The castle was never a home to Rowan, she had always planned to leave one day. She never felt like she truly belonged there. Now the castle is far behind her and now a distant memory of a place she once lived. Cirvka is her future. It is new and exciting and here she can feel a warmth in her chest she never felt before. Maybe this is the place she’s always belonged to. Not everybody is lucky enough to call a place home, but maybe, just maybe, this place can be her new home.
A place where she actually belongs.
“What’s your name?”
Princess Rowan Greenfarrow isn’t exactly an answer to give when she doesn’t want to be returned to the castle. It also isn’t smart to tell random strangers while she is defenseless that she is a princess. Her name is known around the kingdom and if she answers, surely he will realize her identity. He’d probably return her to her father for a hefty reward, too.
“Roe,” Rowan raises her chin. From th
is day forth she will be Roe, an orphaned girl looking for a place to call home. “Are you going to tell me your name?”
“Shadow,” he states simply.
“Shadow?” She raises an eyebrow and pointedly stares at the shadows surrounding him. “Isn’t that a bit banal?”
A sly smirk crosses his face, “Maybe. Then again, maybe I don’t give out my real name to those who don’t give out their real name.”
“Roe is my real name,” she lies through gritted teeth.
“Sure, and Shadow is mine,” he flashes a white toothful smile. “You have one of two choices, Roe. Either you stay here or I can return you to wherever you were running from.”
She doesn’t have to think long and hard to know the answer to the question. “I choose here.”
“Then, welcome home.”
Shadow takes a step back releasing her from the cornered trap he initially put her in with his body. Rowan takes a few steps past him mesmerized by the open space, the smell of sweets, and of course, the magic. It’s been years since stepping foot in Cirvka. The place is just as dark and dreary as it was before. The dark undertones and the dark magic make for this experience to be one of a kind. She follows Shadow as he shows her around. She has never been here at night, but with string lights on every booth and every tent, it’s whimsical.
They stop at one booth that is painted black with a purple sign that says ‘Fortune Telling.’ A lady with thick black curly hair stands in the window of the booth. She’s tall with bronze colored skin and long indigo painted nails. Her ruby red lipstick stands out among the rest. The female is absolutely breathtaking. Shadow leans in the window and puts on an endearing smile.
“How are you tonight, Lola?”
The fortune teller called Lola, gives him a crooked smile. She leans on her elbow putting their faces a few inches apart. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I have someone I’d like you to meet,” he pulls back and wraps his arms around Rowan. She flinches at the intimate touch. If he feels her tense he doesn’t comment. “This is Roe. Roe, this is Sorceress Lola.”
Last time Rowan was here, her and her mother walked around while her brothers and father watched a fight. She remembers stumbling upon a sorceress’ booth. The female running it was centuries old with wrinkled skin and white frizzy hair. She wanted her fortune told more than anything, but her mother said no and pulled her along. She was filled with so much disappointment that day. Rowan barely asked for anything, it made her feel like her mother didn’t care. The Queen was an unusually cold mother, but Rowan attributed that to her being a busy royal with duties and leaving nannies to raise and care for her children.
“So, what kind of job did Shadow recruit you for?” Lola asks.
Rowan is surprised by Lola calling him Shadow. She half expected her to call him by his true name. He must really go by Shadow. It can’t be his real name though, Rowan thinks, it must be a nickname.
She opens her mouth to respond but Shadow shakes his head and says, “We don’t know what kind of powers she has yet. Well, aside from glamouring herself.”
“I am not glamoured,” Rowan hisses through gritted teeth. Shadow has to be out of his right mind—has to be mistaken. “If I were glamoured or could glamour myself, I’m pretty sure I would know.”
“Unless someone else put a glamour curse on you,” Lola shrugs. “It looks as though the glamour curse is starting to slowly wear off.” She taps her finger on her chin, “Normally I can see completely through a glamour, but this...this is strong magic.”
“I’ve looked like this my entire life!” Rowan’s shouts defensively. “You two have to be delusional.”
Not pushing any further Shadow asks, “Then what are your powers? Where can I put you in my show?”
“Your show? You own Cirvka?”
Both Lola and Shadow laugh. “No, I don’t own Cirvka. I am merely in charge of certain aspects by my superiors. I recruit creatures like us to join.”
“Creatures like us?”
“You know, low blood. Dakra.” He shrugs with straightforwardness.
“To the Shevka we are simply a means for entertainment. We are here to serve for their entertainment purposes. Being gawked at in here is much better than getting killed out there,” Lola gives her a pointed look.
“I don’t understand. I thought you were all here willingly.” For the first time Rowan notices both of them have thin metal collars around their throats. She wants to ask what they are for, but why else put a collar on someone?
So they don’t escape.
“Some of us are. Ever since King Bren died, Shevka have made our lives living nightmares. Many of us seek comfort at Cirvka because it’s better sticking together here than being alone and hunted by Shevka out there,” Lola replies, bitterness laced in her voice.
“But King Bren ruined our lands. The Kingdom was in a state of disarray before King Syro came along.” Judging by the looks on their faces Rowan is suddenly afraid her history lessons have been a bit biased.
“You never answered my question,” Shadow ignores Rowan’s statement. “What can you do? I need to find a place for you somewhere.”
“I heal,” Rowan lies.
Lola and Shadow both give each other knowing looks. “No you don’t,” Lola snorts.
“And how do you know?” Rowan puts her hands on her hips.
“Darling, when are you going to stop lying to yourself. Is it really so horrible to be Dakra that you have to glamour and tell yourself the current king is a good king?”
Rowan stomps her foot with frustration. “What do you not understand? I’m not Dakra.”
“Come on, I think I know someone who can help,” Lola closes her booth down and grabs Rowan’s arm pulling her along.
Shadow follows behind as Lola leads them toward a booth run by a short female with a youthful face. She is wearing tight goggles, round and brassy looking, around her chestnut colored eyes. The overalls she’s wearing has stains and holes on them. Her blue hair is cropped and reaches her ears spiking off in different directions. “Lola,” she comments without breaking her concentration with two different colored vials in both her hands. “Shadow. What brings you around to my booth? Need help with something?” She asks seeming uninterested in anything but her work as she holds up one of her vials and shakes it side to side.
“Solana, this is one of the newest editions to Cirvka, Roe.”
Solana holds her hand out and waits for her to shake back. “Nice to meet you,” she says impassively. Rowan can see she’s trying to act polite but struggles to maintain eye contact with her. Solana’s eyes keep darting to the two vials in her opposite hand.
“Do you have a potion that would get rid of someone’s glamour?” Shadows asks.
“Of course,” she holds out her index finger and quickly turns away from the window of her booth. Rowan watches as she digs in the back. She can hear the sound of rustling around, muttering, and glasses clinking against each other. She returns with a vial of green liquid.
“This should do the trick,” Lola takes the potion and hands it to me. “Down the hatch.”
“I am not drinking this,” Rowan crosses her arms stubbornly.
“Yes, you are,” Lola shoves the tonic in her hands.
“How do I know you’re not trying to poison me?” She narrows her eyes.
“Usually the potions I make with poison smell good,” Solana shrugs.
Rowan brings her nose close to the opening. She jerks her head back at the stench. It is quite possibly the worst thing she has ever smelt in her life. It smells like dirty laundry that’s been fermenting for weeks. She looks around at the three of them whose eyes are locked on hers with anticipation. Taking a deep breath, she tries to expel her nerves before downing the entire disgusting potion in one gulp. It tastes even worse than it smells and the texture of it, chunky and spicy, making her throat burn with the urge to throw it back up.
She waits a moment before saying, “I don’t feel
any different.”
Lola taps her chin and begins to recall that Rowan told her she has looked like that all of her life. Whoever put glamour on Rowan used a strong enough spell that it has lasted nearly eighteen years. It doesn’t take long for Solana to make another and add a few different mixtures of ingredients. Rowan’s curiosity and desire to leave her life as princess behind wins.
She wonders what it would be like to not be a princess and not have the weight of being a Greenfallow on her shoulders. What would it be like to walk and not have all eyes on her? The thought of living a normal life, a new life where she gets a say in what happens in it. The thought of no longer being confined to the castle or having guards follow her everywhere is thrilling. For years she’s dreamt of a commoners life and for once the gods above her have the answer to her prayers.
She drinks the vial willingly and quickly.
This time something feels different. A new sensation enters her body. She feels a tingling in her bones as her entire body begins to buzz. The hair on her arms stand up. She looks down at her arms to see her skin morph and change from being pale white to a tone slightly darker with a scattering of brown freckles. The sensations go from mild to extreme as she clenches her fists at her side. Groaning, the tonic takes over and she feels as though she is shedding a layer of her skin. Every one of her muscles feel sore as though they’re being squeezed and twisted. Her eyes begin to burn and there is a pinprick-feeling. She blinks trying to rid of it, becoming blinded by the irritated tears filling her eyes. With a final exhale, the vibrating felt to her core halts and everyone stares at her.
Solana bends down and rummages through a cluttered trunk before holding up a rusted hand mirror. Rowan’s reflection is not her own. Her blue eyes are a deep shade of red and her white hair has turned orange. There is a new abundance of freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. She doesn’t recognize herself at all. The strange thing is, her body feels right. Her appearance, although shocking, feels as it always should’ve looked. The blue eyes and white hair never truly felt like her. The features feel like the lie they always were. Now she is transformed and for the better. This is the Rowan. This is what she truly looks like. She starts to smile. For once she finally feels comfortable in her own skin.
Fight for the Crown Page 2