by Katie Zaber
Without hesitating, Kilyn quietly moves to the hidden closet. Sarah and I go to look out the windows. We aren’t foolish enough to open the door. The cabin and its wards will protect us—as long as we stay inside.
Outside, Xander and Tristan stand alone, looking bewildered.
“You bastard!” Xander screams, waving an angry fist at the sky. “We trusted you!”
Tristan has a blade in each hand as he searches to find someone worth stabbing.
No one else is with them. Kevin, Brynjar, and Mana are nowhere to be seen.
Dana leans over my shoulder to get a better view outside the window. In seconds, the door swings open and she’s storming over to the men.
“Where’s Kevin? What happened?” She stares holes into Xander before shifting her view and squinting at Tristan.
“Kevin said shit and the next thing we know, Mana grabs both of our hands, dropping us off here,” Tristan says. “He’s up to something. He’s behind this, Megan. We should have never trusted him.”
“He probably sliced you two to here and went back for Kevin and Brynjar. He wouldn’t leave them behind.” But my own fears have already taken root. I barely know Mana. He’s been pushed to the brink, and even though I thought I knew where his loyalties lay, it might be another trick. I’m beginning to realize nothing in this world is what it seems.
Xander holds his arms at this side, his fists are clenched and look ready to swing. “He’s Fae. All they know is how to kill humans.”
Just then, Kilyn appears in the doorway, too curious to stay put in the closet. “Mana would never do that. He’s a good man! He’s taken an oath. He’s not a child killer like the Druids! Like you are!”
She spit the last words at Xander, making his head cock to the side. He didn’t expect her to scream those things. Xander opens his mouth. “I’ve never—”
“Druids sneak into Fae houses and steal their children and cook them! Every Fae child knows that Druids are evil! And you’re one of them!” Kilyn screams, her voice straining. “You, Kevin, and Brynjar are Druids and baby eaters! I know that Druids look like big mountain bears and the three of you look like one!”
Tristan tilts his head to the side, staring at his cousin. Then suddenly, he bursts out laughing. “You’re right. Xander looks like a hairy mountain bear.” He sniffs the air. “Smells like one too.”
Kilyn can’t help but crack a grin, though now she has her arms folded across her chest, trying her best to look as defiant as possible.
Sarah stands with her hands on her hips, her face a blank canvas. “We should go back inside. It’s not safe.”
The men are the last two inside. Xander immediately turns around, locking the door. Kilyn lets out a huff, then retreats to the farthest corner in the room. With her arms folded, she gives Xander dagger eyes, making it clear that she doesn’t like him and won’t turn her back to him. Meanwhile, he looks ashamed of everything he has said. It’s one thing to talk shit about an adult Fae, it’s another to have an innocent child Fae try to defend herself and her people.
“Hi,” Sarah says as she sits down in front of Kilyn. “I’m sorry for what Xander said. He didn’t mean it. He’s worried. We all are. But why do you think Xander and Kevin look like Druids?”
Kilyn’s big amethyst eyes shift back and forth nervously. “From the stories my parents told me. They said they look like bulky bear men and live alone in the woods with animals. Battles between Fae and Druids lasted days, sometimes weeks. Druids would sneak into Fae households and eat children to gain more strength,” she says with a gulp. “They would eat them alive.”
Ciara scrunches her face. “Ew. Kilyn, I don’t think that’s true.”
Kilyn doesn’t say anything but stares back at Ciara as if telling her to prove it.
“You know,” I say, sitting down next to Sarah, “I’ve heard stories of Fae doing the same thing to humans.”
If possible, Kilyn’s purple eyes have doubled in size. “That’s not true!”
I shrug. “Seems there are many false stories. Maybe we shouldn’t believe those crazy tales and instead learn what makes each other unique, special.”
She looks down and her wheat hair shelters her face. Her mouth opens to say something but before she can form the words, we hear another commotion outside.
Dana rushes to the window. Tristan beats her there and instinctively pushes her away from the door, afraid of what’s happening on the other side.
I don’t think he meant it in a patronizing way, but it’s what he was taught to do. Protect the fairer sex. Save the women and children.
Some things are going to have to change. First, we are going to have to work on their outlook, slowly, over time. Second, we women have to get stronger and learn how to fight and defend ourselves.
I stand up and walk to the window. As I expected, Xander puts a gentle hand on me. A man who towered over me days ago is now an inch shorter than I am. I give him a kind smile and place a hand on his. “Things have changed. You aren’t the strongest one in the room anymore.”
His face pales.
“It’s not a threat, but a fact. I’m stronger than the both of you. Not that much stronger, but I could hold you back. I’m no longer weak. I should stand up and defend myself. Use this curse for something good.”
Tristan gives me a slow nod, but Xander looks bewildered, his eyebrows scrunching together. “We’re men. It’s our job to save and protect you.”
Even though I’m taller and slightly stronger, it still doesn’t add up for him. It goes against everything he was ever taught. For a second, I question how Sarah could end up with someone so macho, but then I remember her predicament and decide he’s not the worst guy in Capo. And he’s acting this way for the right reasons. He’s not chauvinistic. The men of Capo, the ones taught with morals, were raised to protect one of their rarest commodities: women.
“It’s okay. I’m not afraid of anything anymore—except myself.”
All of us can hear a string of curses coming from not one or two, but three men, and I recognize all three voices. Without another thought, I open the door but don’t step across the threshold.
“What happened?” I ask before the cousins can start with their accusations.
Kevin looks like he might throw up, Brynjar looks more menacing than the old grouch I know. Younger, too. All of his wrinkles are gone. Mana has beads of sweat pouring down his face. He looks exhausted too.
“The house was watched,” Brynjar mumbles, along with a bunch of inaudible profanity as his face returns to its normal age.
Green in the face, Kevin goes to speak but then covers his mouth with both hands before turning around to vomit.
“How many times did you slice him?” Brynjar asks while pulling out a small flask from his inner coat pocket.
“Four fast slices,” Mana says, panting between words.
Brynjar hands Kevin the flask. “Take a single sip.”
“What is it?” Kevin asks between dry heaves.
“Medicine,” Brynjar barks before turning his attention to the cabin. “Pack. We must leave now.”
Behind me, I can hear the girls springing into action. Ciara is shuffling different things around near the hearth, Dana is putting our bags by the door, and Sarah is assisting Ciara. Tristan and Xander look even more ashamed than they did moments ago. They were wrong about Mana. The two of them better apologize to Kilyn, and she better say something back. We will be traveling together for weeks before we arrive at Delmont.
I turn around, give them both a look, and roll my eyes before leaving the doorway to allow the men inside. While I go through the new supplies with Dana, I can hear Xander and Tristan talking to Kilyn. There are too many conversations to hear exactly what they are saying, but I can assume from their body language and Tristan’s goofy face that they are trying to convince the girl that Xander doesn’t eat kids.
***
Within ten minutes, all of our belongs are arranged by the door and we’re chowi
ng down on the meal Ciara has been preparing all day. In fifteen minutes, we are stuffed and ready to leave the cabin, but it won’t be on foot. Not at first.
“When I say so, I’ll lift the wards. Slice us as far southwest as you can take us,” Brynjar says to Mana. “Everyone ready?”
We nod or say ready, our heavy winter coats and backpacks on. Slowly, we grab each other’s hands. I stand in between Kilyn and Mana.
“Quiet,” Brynjar demands. Once the room is silent, he begins to, under his breath, mutter words that I don’t recognize. There’s a feeling of static electricity in the air, and then a very soft crackle comes from somewhere that I can’t pinpoint, but it sounded like it was in the room. Maybe it came from the ceiling. “Now.”
Mana grabs the Druid’s hand; I close my eyes as I wait to be somewhere else. A second later, a cool breeze blows through what’s left of my hair. I open my eyes to find myself in a glade. A mix of pine trees towers around me. Some of them have green needles, but others are orange like the disease-infested pine trees back in New Jersey. Actually, the forest could be on planet Earth. There are no odd tropical plants growing by jade pine trees with crimson needles or a mangrove maze. No, it looks familiar, up until I spot a fuzzy critter scampering across the path. It has a red coat with white dots and is definitely an animal not found on Earth.
“How far are we from Capo?” I ask.
Mana takes a sip of water from his waterskin. “A day’s journey south.”
“Is there any way for the men who were watching the barn house to know where we are now or follow us?” Sarah asks, flicking her hair out of her face.
“No. We should be safe. But it would be best to start moving. Put as much distance between us.”
After an hour or so of walking, I find myself next to Mana. “Do you really think we will reach Delmont safely?”
“I don’t think we will be followed,” he replies.
“What do you think will happen?”
“Inexperienced journeyers, traveling harsh terrain during winter. What could go wrong?” he asks with a sly grin. There’s a mischievous twinkle in his silver eyes. It reminds me of the look he gave me when he sliced us down to the beach outside my father’s castle and I danced in the water to the distant tropical music.
For the moment, a feeling of tranquility washes over me. The birds sing their songs while flying overhead. The sunlight feels warm when I walk through pockets of it, and at this second, surrounded by friends and family, I feel safer than I have in what feels like a lifetime.
How long will I be allowed this interlude? Every time I think I can take a breath and relax, I’m thrown into another horrible scenario without the tools to survive it. Lost, attacked, kidnapped, part of the royal family, politics, war, assassins, death, and rebels but somehow, against all those odds, I’m still alive to fight tomorrow. This is my life now. The life of a queen in training, whose mission in life is to end the evil king’s reign, my father, while joining the rebels in restoring peace to not only Paradise Kingdom but also all of Dargone.
Is it possible to be cursed and lucky? The darker question is what will make this all end, the curse or my luck?
Epilogue
A change is coming,
Nothing stays the same.
Time continues,
Some memories fade.
My love for you is eternal,
It shall never die.
My dead bones will whisper,
The love between you and I.
Even though war calls,
And our time apart makes you cry.
Remember, my darling,
The love between you and I.
The singer strums a sad, romantic melody, not the genre he usually plays. It must be a request. It’s a nostalgic and beautiful song about passion and everlasting love.
Nothing tangible.
The crowd listens to the lyrics, hypnotized by the minstrel’s voice. Everyone here has buried a loved one at least once. His audience can relate to his every word. They grow more somber with each melancholy verse.
The minstrel better play something more festive or else the barrel of alcohol needed to arouse the crowd again will come out of his pay. He needs to bring them out of their dismal thoughts and back to the women, liquor, and food.
It’s much simpler to leave the past behind. To bury it deep, leaving it forgotten and never falling victim to remembering. Never let the memories awaken those deep emotions, the longings. My fingers curl around a tall glass nearly empty of its amber liquor. Bitter, the alcohol stings as it slides down my throat. The fire burns deep inside my stomach. It fuels my soul and keeps my mind free of clutter.
It’s another mundane night.
I observe it all on the third floor, high above the semi-crowded main room. Each floor has a set of curved staircases. The first step begins on either side of the centered bar, weaving up to the third floor. Every landing starts precisely where the one below began. The second and third floor have two open hallways lined with ten doors on each side, overlooking the main area. There are thirty private rooms in total for the public to rent for a half an hour at a time. The other ten are for council members, ready to use whenever they are needed. Shaped like a U, the second floor has an open space above the entrance to add to its height and grandeur, but the third floor balcony encircles the whole building.
I sit there, three stories above the entrance, watching every person who enters, studying their habits. What time they arrive, when they leave, who they talk to, what they drink, how much they drink, their appearance, clothing, how they act. The small details no one pays attention to.
No one interesting has come in tonight. Only the regular townsfolk, the boring ones. They talk the same monotonous nonsense, endless blather, nothing like last week.
Footsteps approach from behind me and stop five feet away. “Everyone is here. They wait below to begin.”
Bill doesn’t bother standing before me, nor does he look at me to speak. Neither does he address me as madam. No. He talks to my back, giving me information and leaving. Does he really think I didn’t watch council members go downstairs? That I hadn’t noticed the ones who are allowed under the open sky scurrying across the grand room into the side parlor, knocking on the third door and retreating down the long stone stairs, disappearing beneath Capo?
He knows. They must have sent him because I haven’t come down yet.
This is the first time in years that I know something substantial. I have information they all want. For the first time since given this position, I have something to report. A story to tell. Of course, rumors have spread about what happened that night. I love hearing the different variations. They range from an epic fight in the dark alley to a traitorous deal, to a love story. The council knows that I am one of their best spies. It’s the reason they gave me this job. To spy on the outside world that we welcome into ours with open arms. Now they wait for me to reveal the truth.
Thumbing my snowflake pendant, I stand up to begin my descent down the whitewashed wooden staircase. It’s a pale light green, fresh and clean. It was the right color choice to brighten the rooms, making the place larger than it is while concealing its identity. On my way down the second floor staircase, I can see out of the corner of my eye that Bill is making my drink. He sets it on the counter, ready for me to walk by and take it gracefully, a coordinated dance. Any other bartender would have made my drink, but he knew I was a few steps behind.
He’s a good man, a hard worker. I guess all men are good until pushed. In times of peace—true peace—no men fight. They become brothers united in the common goal of survival. They watch their families flourish, not starve, children grow, not die, and they slowly let time age them until they fall asleep, never to wake again, not murdered by their neighbor.
I pass by the stragglers who have deep enough pockets to afford this atmosphere. Sadly, not all of them are lonely. Some have wives and children waiting for them at home, but they would rather spend their ti
me here among strangers and whores. Idiots.
Reniane steps out from behind the bar, matching my steps. We synchronize our feet, each of us lifting our left foot at the same time. It’s just one of the many ruses used to make us look extra magical but still ordinary.
Her vivacious personality matches the way her wavy brown hair bounces. Full of life and energy, her essence hasn’t been drained away by the job yet.
“He’s here,” she whispers.
“What? How?” I ask, flabbergasted that he actually showed up. I’m reluctant to believe he traveled this far just to hear what I have to say. No. He wants something else. What could he possibly want? He threw everything away when he left. He could have had it all and happiness.
Reniane shrugs. “Don’t know. Just reporting a fact,” she says with a coy smile, still pretending we are having a nice, quiet, routine conversation.
We must always keep up appearances, using multiple disguises to hide our identities from the outside world. It’s all part of the facade. We wear infinite layers of masks. They can be peeled off, but there will always be another. That’s how we protect ourselves.
I smile and brush my hand against the back of hers. “You’re one of the best.”
“Remember that when you give your report.” Her smile glows, trying to melt my cold heart.
I give credit to those who deserve credit due. Reniane has always been a trustworthy cohort. When absent, she administers my commands and has done nothing to wreak havoc or try to uproot the hierarchy.
“You will receive what you are owed.”
She bows her head. “Don’t keep those rickety old men waiting. We are already outnumbered. Don’t cast yourself as dilatory. It will reduce the favor they have for you.”
I nod and we part ways. As our footsteps separate, she returns to her own gait. She’s the only one in this establishment who has the courage to speak her mind and has the intelligence to back up her word.
I should have already ventured down to the meeting. Making them wait isn’t creating alliances, it’s only embittering the few I have left. Suddenly remembering the glass in my hand, I take a large gulp, numbing myself. Then I take another and another until it is empty. Dulling my emotions is all I can do to prepare myself for seeing him. There’s too much left unspoken after too many years drifting us apart. The what ifs and could have beens haunt me enough. Now I have to endure looking at his maimed faced while addressing the rest of the council.