Hush, the woods are darker still

by L. V Russell

  Oonagh held a hand to her mouth, exchanging a quick glance with Nefina, whose lovely face had turned ashen.

  “What are you two actually doing here?” I asked, wary.

  “Would you believe we are here to help you?” Oonagh answered.

  “By attempting to slit Laphaniel’s throat?”

  Oonagh dismissed my words with a wave of her hand. “I was merely demonstrating how easy it would have been.”

  She reclined in an overstuffed leather armchair beside the fire, which she had lit with a delicate twist of her hand. Nefina settled by the window, looking out fearfully when she wasn’t glaring at me. She jumped when the front door opened, as did I, sloshing warm coffee over my legs.

  “Sit down if you are joining us,” Oonagh said as Laphaniel walked in, curling her long legs up beneath her like a cat. “We have much to discuss.”

  Laphaniel sat beside me, his leg touching mine. “Have you caught up on our situation?”

  Oonagh narrowed her eyes. “Must you be so flippant? And yes, Teya just explained how the curse was broken. True love really does conquer all, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t believe we’ve conquered anything yet,” Laphaniel replied.

  A sly grin spread over Oonagh’s lips. “We are beginning to gather a rebel group.”

  “How many?” Laphaniel asked sitting straighter, the faintest thread of hope warming his voice.

  “Not enough,” Oonagh said. “But it’s a start. Luthien does not know that I have betrayed her, not yet anyway.”

  “And you?” Laphaniel turned to his sister, who visibly recoiled. “Why are you here?”

  “Luthien found out that I helped you,” Nefina said, her voice wavering. “I made the antidote the night Teya drugged you with Goodnight Kisses, and she found out. I am no longer welcome at Court.”

  Oonagh shifted in her chair, leaning forwards. “The consequences Nefina faced for helping you were horrific, Laphaniel, there are scars she…”

  “That’s enough, Oonagh,” Nefina cut her off with a hiss. “I need no one’s pity.”

  “There are fey loyal to you,” Oonagh said, turning her pale, pale eyes onto Laphaniel. “Those who will follow you in a rebellion against Luthien.”

  “Loyal to me?” I asked, confused.

  “Of course, not you,” Nefina scoffed, then nodded towards her brother. “Him.”

  How could I have forgotten that Laphaniel would have been king, ruling alongside Luthien, on elegant thrones in a castle that bore no signs of ruin? If Sorcha, Luthien’s sister, had not cursed the Court of Seelie in her last breaths, we would never have met.

  Niven would never have been taken. Luthien would hold the Seelie crown with Laphaniel at her side.

  It was not impossible to imagine Laphaniel as a faerie king, wicked and beautiful, watching over fey that fell to his feet as he commanded.

  Though it was much harder to picture Luthien beside him, a heart-wrenching siren sparking with Glamour and power. A faery queen so merciless she would make you plead for death, just so you could see her smile when she did. Luthien, the Queen of Seelie, only equalled in the consort beside her.

  It was only hard to picture her beside Laphaniel, her slender hand holding his, because I couldn’t bear it.

  “The last rebel army that followed me didn’t fare too well,” Laphaniel said, speaking of the war that had raged between Luthien and her sister, resulting in Sorcha conjuring the curse that doomed the Seelie to a mortal queen.

  “And yet they still come,” Oonagh replied. “What hope could you possibly have for the Unseelie?”

  “They have a new king, untested,” Laphaniel said. “With Luthien on the Seelie throne, they are at great risk. She could quite easily slaughter them all.”

  “Soren had no heir…”

  “Soren found herself an heir, Nefina. The Unseelie Queen plotted a way for her court to survive after her death, while we were all too busy snatching away children. Stop talking and listen,” Laphaniel snapped. “The Unseelie may back Teya’s claim to the throne.”

  “Who is he?” Oonagh asked, pouring more tea. “This new Unseelie king?”

  “Human, or used to be,” I answered. “We don’t really know what he is yet.”

  Oonagh stared at me over her teacup before placing it untouched back onto the table. “Two human rulers? I do not think Faerie will like that.”

  “You talk as if Faerie is a living thing…”

  “Is it not, then?” The silver-haired fey crossed her long legs, an unease settling over her. “What if this king will not help?”

  “Then Luthien will gain the throne, and we will lose,” Laphaniel said, tilting his head back to rest against the sofa. “It won’t matter how many rebels you have. Teya won’t win against Luthien without The Unseelie.

  “You are waiting for word from them?”

  “Niven said she would speak to Phabian, she sounded genuine…but who knows, it may just be one of her cruel games,” I said, hoping I was wrong.

  Laphaniel rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know what we are bargaining with, and I don’t know what it will cost for them to help us.”

  Nefina leaned forwards, her eyes fixed on mine. “What are you willing to pay?”

  “I don’t know…”

  She smiled at me, cold and cruel. “If you truly wish to rule over us, you must know what you are willing to sacrifice for us, how much blood you will shed. Fey can sense fear, we can taste it. If you fear us, we will destroy you.”

  I glanced at Laphaniel, foolishly thinking he would contradict his sister, but he said nothing, and a heavy, awkward silence settled over us. I had no idea how to become a queen, how to rule over a court. I wasn’t fey, I didn’t have the wickedness that they possessed…the fondness for cruel games and sheer spite. I wasn’t like Niven.

  “Will you teach me?” I asked Laphaniel, wondering how much of my humanity I would lose to become the queen they needed. How much of my soul.

  “Yes,” he said, drawing me close, so his words ghosted over my neck.

  I pictured him then, sitting beside me on a throne made new, made of twisting branches that bloomed in spring and burned gold as winter whispered to them.

  “What happens when I die?” I asked, understanding that I was the last mortal Queen, and my reign couldn’t last forever.

  “Your heir would take the throne,” Oonagh said as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

  “My heir?” I echoed stupidly.

  “Your daughter, to be exact. The Seelie crown always passes down the female line.”

  “What if we don’t have a daughter?”

  “Then keep trying until you do,” Nefina said. “Queen Aria of the third age had fifteen sons before she finally produced a girl.”

  “Oh.”

  “Can we focus on one problem at a time, please?” Laphaniel sighed. “Nefina will likely have a claim for the throne as my sister.”

  “I have no desire to become Queen.”

  Oonagh smiled. “No one wants that, dear.”

  Laphaniel rose, hand slipping from mine. “Are we done here?”

  “For now,” Oonagh replied, stretching her arms above her head. “Stay here until you either hear word from the Unseelie or from us. Luthien’s fey are everywhere. Stay indoors, stay hidden, stay safe.”

  I stood beside Laphaniel, and Oonagh stepped toward me, embracing me quickly. Her hands lingered on my shoulders, close enough that I could smell the sweetness of her skin, like morning rain.

  “You are not alone in this,” she whispered to me, touching her forehead to mine. “Whatever happens, you brave girl, you were never alone.”

  She pulled away to embrace Laphaniel, and he held her back in a hug that lingered as mine had done. She whispered something, and he shook his head. Oonagh’s eyes darkened, then with a sigh, she kissed his cheek and broke away from his arms.

  Nefina watched from the doorway, her face a blank mask while we said our goodbyes, and she said nothing.
She didn’t wait for Oonagh before she left, slipping away with only the briefest glance at Laphaniel.

  “If this all goes wrong, you may never see her again,” Oonagh said softly. “She’s your sister.”

  “Do you expect me to heal a void carved out over decades in one afternoon?”

  “No,” she sighed, disappointment weighing her words. “Goodbye, Laphaniel.”

  We both watched them go, and the cottage suddenly felt small and cold without the other faeries in it.

  Chapter Seven

  The nightmare struck without warning. Horrific and violent, nothing I did would reach him.

  Laphaniel kicked out at me, twisting in the bed. Hands scratched against my arms when I tried to wake him, his eyes utterly black and focused on something I couldn’t see. Waves of Glamour shrieked around the room, a frantic rush of power I had never witnessed before. It sent everything crashing to the floor, ripping books from the shelves to scatter in heaps of torn pages. The lightbulbs exploded, showering the bed in glass. I rolled away, shielding my head, but the shards cut into Laphaniel’s bare skin as he tossed and turned, splattering the sheets in red.

  He didn’t wake when I screamed his name.

  Over and over again.

  Until my voice was hoarse, and I could only wait in the trembling darkness for the nightmare to let him go.

  To be done with him.

  Laphaniel woke, gasping, fighting against me. He shoved me away, still struggling to get a decent breath in. He made it two steps before crumpling to the floor, head smacking against the doorframe.

  I was at his side in an instant. “I can’t help you with this if you won’t speak to me,” I implored him.

  “You can’t help, Teya.” He shoved himself to his feet. “There is something waiting for me every time I close my eyes. Something black and angry and never ending.”

  “Your nightmare?” I pressed, not wanting him to shut off again. Laphaniel shook his head before tugging on a shirt. The little cuts on his body were already healing.

  “I think it’s something else.”

  “Like what?”

  Laphaniel leant back against the wall, closing his eyes. He let me take his hand, looking utterly lost. “I don’t know.”

  Slow and lingering days passed us by, though neither of us could enjoy the much-needed rest from running. The cottage grew claustrophobic, with Laphaniel pacing the rooms like a caged animal.

  He had barely slept, choosing instead to prowl the cottage and gardens, coiled up like a spring. He would come to bed each night, and we would lie together until I fell asleep in his arms. Then he would leave, just as he had once done while I was Glamoured at his house.

  Rain fell in lazy sheets against the window, the long hours slipping by in a wash of grey cloud and constant drizzle.

  On a particularly grey morning, I lounged on the old sofa, stretching my legs out, careful not to nudge Laphaniel, who sat beside me with his head back and eyes closed. It was only in those few moments he would allow himself to doze off, stealing the briefest of respites when he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

  “We watched this yesterday,” he said thickly, as I flicked onto a documentary on meerkats.

  I sighed. “That was prairie dogs. They’re completely different animals.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, reaching for his lukewarm coffee. “I don’t think they are.”

  I smiled. “I know you hate waiting. I do too. I know you don’t like being cooped up in here.”

  “I’m not eager to go to war either, Teya,” he replied, stretching his arms above his head until they clicked.

  It wasn’t too much of a stretch of the imagination to picture him sat astride a massive warhorse, plunging deep into battle, though the thought of it clawed at my heart. There wasn’t a part of me ready to bear watching him disappear into a mass of clashing swords, to be wounded in a fight, to come home bloodied and broken. Or not at all.

  “I don’t want you going to war for me.”

  “I would go to hell for you,” he said. “And it seems others are willing to as well.”

  “They are following you.”

  He shrugged, a soft lift of his shoulders that hinted at an indifference I knew he didn’t feel. “Become their queen, and they will think differently.”

  “I’m just a girl,” I stated, not seeking pity, knowing Laphaniel wasn’t one to give it. “Human.”

  “I thought that once, you proved me wrong.”

  Thunder roared with such fervour it shook the house, the unexpected noise making me leap up. The lights in the living room flickered, dimming quickly before sparking back to life. Laphaniel stood to move closer to the window, and I followed, marvelling at how dark the sky had become. I could almost taste the storm as it rolled across the indigo clouds.

  “Come with me.” Laphaniel snatched my hand to drag me into the garden. I stumbled after him, shivering as the heavens opened, crashing rain down on us. He stopped at the fence, pulling me into his arms as the storm began to scream over the sea, enraging the waves until angry foam dashed at the nearby cliffs.

  The skies erupted with bright light. The storm ripping through the black in a sudden violent flash, the thunder followed instantly, booming across the beach with an intensity that made my heart roar with it.

  It was a cacophony of fury and chaos, a song of beauty and destruction, and I understood why Laphaniel was so entranced with it.

  It was the closest he could get to home.

  I turned my face up against the rain to watch Laphaniel while he watched the storm, his eyes the same colour as the livid sky. Rain plastered his hair to his face, inky strands whipping back in the wind. His entire body was tense against mine, and it was in that moment I truly realised how homesick he was, how much he longed for his world of frenzied bedlam and strange creatures.

  My t-shirt squelched as I wrapped my arms around him, thankful he had found this tiny piece of release. I could smell the storm on him, a new wildness that had faded while we waited at the cottage.

  Laphaniel blinked and looked down, gazing at me as if he had forgotten I was there until that moment. I smiled up at him through the sodden nest of my hair, but he frowned.

  “You’re soaked,” he said, drawing me closer.

  “Yes,” I grinned back. “That’s usually what happens when you stand outside in the pouring rain.”

  “I just…” He trailed off, turning to face the sea again. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s go back.”

  “No, I miss it too,” I said, climbing the slick fence, so I sat on the top post. “I don’t belong here any more than you do. I miss Faerie, Laphaniel. More than I ever thought I could.”

  He pushed his dripping hair away from his face. “You do?”

  “I miss the singing trees,” I answered. “I miss the hidden glens where you first kissed me, and the hollow by the brook where you showed me the unicorns.” My cheeks heated. “And more…I miss the smell of your bed, the way autumn scattered those tiny pink flowers over the covers. I miss dancing with you until the twin suns rose, then lying in your arms when they set again.” I swallowed and tilted my head back, allowing the rain to mingle with the sudden tears. “I miss our forever.”

  He kissed me then, soft and slow, tasting of the storm. “No one really gets forever, Teya.”

  “Then I just want to stop running,” I said, leaning into him as the rain thrashed against us. “I want to remember a time when I wasn’t terrified of being torn to pieces, of being part of something I don’t really understand.”

  Laphaniel looked helpless. “I hate not knowing what to do. This is so far from what I hoped for us. I truly thought you would share my bed for a while until I convinced you to go home.”

  I punched his arm, and he laughed. “Is that all you wanted from me?”

  “In the beginning, yes. You were wearing that little black dress, and your hair was up.” He tugged my hair into a ponytail, looping it up, so tendrils of red fell across m
y face. “Just like this. You had mud on your face, and your tears were black.”

  “I had just come from my father’s funeral,” I said.

  He tilted his head slightly, wickedness creeping into his eyes. “I know. I could smell the vulnerability on you a mile away.”

  “What did I smell like?”

  “Like despair and fury.”

  I looked up, shaking my hair from his grip. “And you wanted that?”

  “Yes. Does that bother you?”

  “What if I had told you no?”

  He looked at me like I was stupid. “You did say no.”

  I hopped off the fence, stretching and shivering at the same time. “What do I smell like now?”

  “Wet,” Laphaniel replied, and I shoved him. He grabbed me before I could move, sliding a leg around me so I tumbled to the ground, his arms catching me just before I hit the grass. “You smell of the storm, of feral things and nightmares. I can smell the dreams on you, the love and raindrops, and the tang of fear. I could pick you out blindfolded in a sea of people.”

  “Less despair?” I asked, my breath catching at the wild grin on his face.

  “Oh yes, but much more fury.”

  He pulled me to my feet, awakening something within me, the thrill of when we first met, of running through the woods and knowing he would chase me. I grinned, and his eyes lit up.

  My feet slipped on the sodden grass as I darted past him, not hearing him give chase, but then I never did. He caught me. Of course, he caught me, and though I was winded from my sudden sprint, Laphaniel’s breaths were even.

  He flung me over his shoulder and began to walk back to the cottage, his hands cold and wet on my skin. The rain had started to slow, clouds parting enough to allow thin rays of sunlight to trickle down. We were both drenched to the bone, and I wanted nothing more than to share a hot bath.

  Laphaniel slowed before we reached the back door, setting me down on my feet without a word. His hand moved to my mouth, soft against my lips, yet the meaning was clear. His head tilted, listening, his eyes sharp. I could hear nothing.