by L. V Russell
“Were the Unseelie good to you?”
“Were the Seelie good to you?” Grace said, tilting her head, not needing me to answer. “Briar was. I didn’t go into Faerie often to begin with, so he watched me grow up, and our friendship evolved into something new. Something wonderful. He offered me the choice to live in Faerie with him, or I could stay at the boarding house and receive my daily beatings.”
“You couldn’t go home?” I asked.
“Orphaned,” Grace said; the years of mourning had long turned to acceptance. “I chose Briar.”
“Why was he exiled?”
“We were stupid.” A bitterness darkened her voice. “So god-damned stupid. So filled with young love, we thought we were invincible, that we lived far enough away from the Barren Queen to believe we could be truly happy…to have everything, unburdened, unpunished.”
“You were pregnant,” I guessed, watching her eyes fill with tears as she nodded.
“We ran away, we ran and ran, and I lost the baby.” She quickly swiped a hand over her eyes.
“You don’t have to continue,” I said, but she did.
“Soren still wanted us for being within reach of something she could never hope to grasp. She caught us…of course, she caught us! They always do. Briar was to be executed, I was to watch.” Grace gave a shuddering breath, her hand going to the place just above her heart. “I bargained my soul for him. Soren took it with glee, and I have no idea what she did with it. Nothing waits for me after death except eternal damnation. I cannot follow Briar into whatever life exists after this one. I am mortal, I will age and die where Briar will not. Where once we had forever spanning out in front of us, we now have a fragment of that.”
The sky bled away into blackness, the clouds drifting away to reveal a blanket of stars. They were brighter, more alive than I had seen them in a while, and I guessed I had the Fizz to thank for that.
“No one gets forever,” I said, and Grace chuckled darkly beside me.
“As good a toast as any, I guess. No one gets forever.”
We shared the last of the Fizz as the night chilled around us, both trying to make shapes as we blew out the greenish fog. Grace managed rings, blowing out smaller and smaller ones, so they passed through one another. I managed to spit down myself.
“I didn’t mean to fill the night with my sad little story,” Grace said, laughing as she clapped me on the back.
“Actually, it’s quite nice to hear someone else is having a terrible time too,” I said, my words slurring so much I had to repeat myself three times.
“I hope it works out for you, Teya, I truly do. Whatever it is that you’re running from, what you’re fighting for, I hope you make it.”
“If we make it out of this, I’ll come back for you,” I said as I heard footsteps behind us. I didn’t need to turn to know it was Laphaniel.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Grace answered, embracing me tightly before she stood. She gave Laphaniel a dazzling grin. “She may need a little help getting to her room.”
I giggled, feeling the last of the fizziness dance on my tongue. “Did you want some?”
Laphaniel bent to scoop me into his arms. “I think it best if one of us stays sober tonight.”
“Are you cross?” I asked, clinging to him when he spun around, making the whole world spin in a riot of colour. “Do that again.”
Laphaniel obliged, allowing my head to drop back as he spun, and I marvelled at the sudden explosion of colours I had no name for.
“Again.”
He danced on the rooftop with me in his arms, painting the sky with a palette of indigos, blues, and blacks, struck with slashes of silver that tore the night as they chased through the sky.
“Again.”
I was gasping for breath when he stopped, grinning as I waited for my world to calm. Laphaniel grinned back, his bright eyes finding mine, and I kissed him until everything erupted once more. I knew he could taste the Fizz against my lips, but he didn’t draw back.
“Take me back downstairs.”
“The bed’s filthy.”
“I don’t care.”
Laphaniel carried me to our bedroom without further protest, sprawling me onto the dingy mattress while I yanked his shirt over his head. He let out a low groan when I kissed him, brushing my lips against the hollow of his neck until I felt him crumple. His hands tangled in my hair, tilting my head back, exposing my throat to him as he bit down. My gasp was muffled by his lips crushing against mine.
I ran my hands over the mottled bruising on his ribs, my eyes locked on his, grinning up at him as his pupils swallowed up the purple. He closed his eyes, while my hands wandered down the contours of his chest, his lashes leaving spiky shadows against his skin. His breathing hitched when I trailed my finger down to the dark hair circling his bellybutton. My mouth followed where my fingers had been, moving lower and lower until his hands were tangling in my hair, and his body was arching off the bed. I undid him with every kiss, every touch, until my name was a curse on his lips, an oath…a promise.
With a low hiss, he dragged me up and kissed me hard, pushing me back onto the bed. There was something hungry and wanting burning in his eyes, I felt it too…a desire to be as close as we could physically get, to seek solace in each other’s arms without having to talk.
I lay awake after, tangled in Laphaniel’s arms, while he slept deeply beside me, too exhausted to keep his eyes open any longer. I didn’t dare move, knowing if I shifted just a fraction, he would stir, and he needed to sleep.
As the moonlight trickled through the window, I rested my head against Laphaniel’s chest, and listened to the song of his heartbeat, beating in time with my own.
Chapter Twelve
Are you sure you don’t have any other choice?” Grace asked the following morning, perching on the edge of our bed, handing us a steaming mug of coffee from the breakfast tray she brought. Briar stood in the doorway, chewing on a piece of bacon.
Grace had knocked on our door just as the sun began to rise, sensing we didn’t intend to linger, and wanting to say goodbye before we left. She hadn’t pried into what we were doing but found out through Darby what it was we were looking for.
“Can you get us into the Unseelie lands?” I asked Briar.
“Not since the banishment,” he answered. “The paths I know are closed off to me, and even if I could get through, I would be killed on sight.”
I had expected his answer, but it didn’t stop the flash of disappointment I felt. If only it could have been that easy.
“Arabelle is a vicious piece of work,” Briar added, leaning on the doorframe a respectable distance away from Laphaniel. “Even Soren was wary of her. That witch is ancient and cunning. I truly hope you know what you are doing.”
“We don’t,” Laphaniel said, looking a bit more rested than he had for a while.
“I’ve heard rumours of the new Unseelie King. He is fighting to prove himself to a court already unstable. Now is not a good time to seek his help.”
“Luthien poses more of an immediate threat,” Laphaniel countered, placing his untouched coffee onto the nightstand.
“Are you certain they will help you?” Grace asked, dipping toast crusts into a pot of jam and nibbling on them, spreading crumbs all over the covers. “Why would they even entertain the idea? Surely they would love nothing more than to tear a Seelie faerie to pieces?”
I winced at the thought. “My sister is their Queen.”
Grace and Briar shared a look.
“I know,” I said at the shock on their faces. “I imagine she’s fitting in quite nicely.”
“Two mortal Queens?” Briar mused, echoing Oonagh’s unease. “The new King is human too, so I have heard?”
“Was.”
Briar pushed off the doorframe, green eyes bright against the dim room. “This will end in madness.”
Grace reached for my hand, her fingers sticky with jam. “Please be careful.”
“I’m
trying to be,” I replied, squeezing her hand back. “If this all goes well, and there is anything we can do to help you and Briar, we will. I promise.”
Grace smiled, a sad quirk of her lips told me that she had lost any hope she may have once held onto, too used to listening to empty promises to find any comfort within them. “You’re very kind, Teya. Don’t let them take that away from you.”
Leaning forwards, she kissed my cheek before bouncing off the bed with a spirit that had not yet been broken. Worn down and beaten maybe, but not broken.
I stared after her as she leapt into Briar’s arms, marvelling at the adoring gaze he gave her. He looked at her like there was no one else in the world.
Laphaniel gave me that look. Every time he thought I wasn’t looking or paying attention, I would catch him staring. He would turn away with a grin, embarrassed I had caught him. I was his world, as much as he was mine.
“Are you ready to go?” Laphaniel asked after Briar and Grace had left. He rose from the bed and stretched, looking better for having a few hours’ sleep.
“Yes. I’m completely ready to haggle our lives away.” I caught his look and held my hands up. “I’m joking, Laphaniel. Hey, what’s wrong?”
He stumbled slightly when he stepped forward, reaching out for the bedpost to steady himself. All colour drained from his face as he clamped a hand to his side.
“I think I pulled something last night,” he joked, the words more than a little breathless. “I blame you.”
“You look like you’re going to pass out,” I said, not buying his flippant attitude. “And you didn’t touch your breakfast.”
He rolled his eyes, grabbing a slice of cold toast and finishing it in three bites, chasing it down with a gulp of orange juice. “Happy?”
“Depends, are you going to throw up now?”
“I’m fine, Teya. You try mending broken bones overnight and see how you feel.”
“Don’t snap at me.”
He held a hand up. “I’m sorry. I’m okay, Teya. Just tired and grumpy. I’m sorry.”
“You weren’t grumpy last night,” I said, shouldering a small bag of supplies Grace had given us. “I seem to remember you being very, very happy.”
“And that’s probably why my ribs are sore this morning, you insatiable woman.”
I laughed as we left the room, the sound echoing cheerfully around the gloom. Downstairs, a few fey sat around tables with plates of bacon and eggs in front of them, mismatched cups of tea steaming up from the tables. Some were even reading the local newspaper.
It looked odd. Something off about it all, that wasn’t glaringly obvious, but it niggled at me. Everyone just seemed less bright, less wild. Less alive.
“We draw strength from our Courts,” Laphaniel said, giving the room a quick glance. “These fey no longer belong to any, and there is not enough magic in your world left for them to thrive.”
“What happens to them?” I asked, keeping my voice low as we left the inn.
“Some of the weaker fey probably waste away, the others keep on existing without ever belonging anywhere.”
I thought of Grace and Briar, of him having to watch as she aged, and he lay untouched by the passing years. I missed Faerie—the idea of never seeing it again was unimaginable.
I wanted to dance beneath the blossom with Laphaniel again, watch a double sunset seep down over the too-green hills. I longed to hear the trees whisper to me as night swept up around us, and the stars came out. I missed the way the wind sang.
Faerie had left a hollow deep within me, I feared not going back would only lead to madness.
I could only imagine what it was like for the Solitary fey, being away from Faerie for so long with no hope of returning. My heart yearned for it, and I’d been away only days.
Outside, the early morning sky was free from clouds, allowing a light frost to settle on the ground, crunching with each step we took. We wound around lanes into tamed woodland. I couldn’t even begin to admire the countryside opening around us.
My last encounter with a witch very nearly cost me my life. Laphaniel had paid over the odds and saved me. I never liked to dwell on what would have happened if he had simply passed me by.
I hated the thought of what we would be forced to bargain, of what would happen if the price was just too high.
Arabelle lived away from the village, bordering the moorland with its sweeping lilac heathers. Her house was ordinary, a white stone cottage that looked just like all the other quaint little cottages, complete with a wisteria bush growing over the porch. There were no railings of children’s bones, no animal carcasses offered up to ancient gods, no sound of music played on human heartstrings, but still it felt…wrong.
There was an otherworldliness to it that crept into my bones, fraying my nerves as it stood pretty in a mirage of belonging.
We followed the tidy path to the front door, and I steeled myself as Laphaniel reached for the knocker and banged three times. We waited, and just as I was going to knock again, the door opened. Humid warmth struck my face in a fog of choking smells.
“Yes?” A girl peered around the doorway, skinny and dirty, her eyes wide and blinking against the sunlight. “What business do you have here?”
“To see Arabelle,” Laphaniel answered, as the girl glared up at him.
“She is busy at the moment.”
“It is very important,” Laphaniel insisted, shoving his foot against the doorway as the girl made to close it. Chains clanked around her ankles, locked tight enough that the flesh beneath bled raw.
“Please,” the girl whispered, her eyes pleading. “Please go away.”
She was strong for a girl her size and made a good attempt to slam the door in Laphaniel’s face, but he pushed back until she stumbled.
“Go get your mistress before I shout for her,” he hissed, making her flinch.
“Laphaniel!”
The girl shoved against the door, her knuckles white. “She says she’s not to be disturbed…if I get her…”
“Bethany Wilkins!” screeched a voice from within the darkness. “Do your little ears not listen? Do you not heed what I have to say, what did I tell you, my filthy worm?”
Bethany Wilkins shrank back, hate-filled eyes flicking from Laphaniel to me before she turned away. “They wouldn’t go, mistress, I was worried the knocking would disturb you…”
“Oh, do shut up, you withering slime,” Arabelle sneered, pushing past the girl as she stood before us. “Get back to your work before I find another use for you.”
Arabelle watched the girl leave, reaching out to yank a handful of dirty hair as Bethany ran past, visibly delighted in the yelp she tore from her.
“Little Bethany is the great-great-granddaughter of a woman who came to me in need of a bargain,” Arabelle said in way of greeting, beckoning us into her home with a sweep of an elegant and unlined hand. “I own the first-born girl of each generation until the end of days. I own them all. Some I keep and some I sell, the smaller ones I have devoured whole.”
The door creaked shut behind us, and I kept close to Laphaniel as Arabelle led us deeper into her home. Black beams stretched across the ceiling, with pots and pans and drying herbs hanging over us. She gestured for us to sit at a table cluttered with glass bottles, a few were corked, most not and oozing a strange smog that gave off a sickly scent. My head swam with it.
Arabelle sat in a worn velvet chair and crossed her long legs. Her fingers drummed against the armrest, painted red nails tapping out a rhythm that made my teeth ache.
“What have you two lovelies come to buy from me?”
She fixed me with eyes the colour of smoke, a whirl of grey and silver that were fathomless against the deep black of her skin. She grinned, canines pointed beneath painted lips, and there was nothing behind that smile that held even a thread of kindness…of mercy. I had no doubts that her soul, if she possessed one, lay withered and ruined, an ugly thing betraying the beautiful skin she wore.
/> “We need safe passage into the Unseelie Court, as close to the castle as possible,” Laphaniel said, and Arabelle turned to him, her nostrils flaring as she scented him.
“Indeed?” Her glee was obvious. I feared what she would ask of us. “That is some request.”
“I’m guessing a pint of blood would not be sufficient payment?” Laphaniel offered, and I balked at his nerve.
Arabelle reached forwards, almost caressing him, her fingertips stopping just shy of Laphaniel’s face. She licked her lips, masses of dark hair falling over her bare shoulders as she leaned in.
“Oh, my lovely one,” she breathed, her voice a caress. “I would bleed you dry, and yet it still would not quench my thirst. Tell me why you require passage, and then perhaps I can set a fair price.”
I met her stare, fear rising like a tide. “I believe we have different ideas on what is fair payment.”
“That may be so,” Arabelle said, ghostly eyes unblinking. “But I want to know how much it means to you both, how much you are willing to give up.”
Laphaniel leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps we are visiting relatives.”
Not quite a lie, but Arabelle’s lip curled as she withdrew her hand from Laphaniel. Quicker than I could see, she snared my wrist, her long fingernails slicing deep. The smoke in her eyes lifted, leaving behind a filmy white.
“Ah,” she breathed, her grip on me vice-like. “Teya Jenkins, the Queen of Seelie, fleeing from Luthien herself. You dare throw hope upon the newly crowned King of the Unseelie. I see rebels, an uprising of discontentment.” She paused to lick the blood trickling over my wrist. “And a beautiful war, all resting on me helping you.”
My hand dropped hard against the table when she released me. I felt violated, knowing she had clawed into my mind and picked out the parts she wanted. Her voice still filled my head, a crooning echo left behind as she sifted through my thoughts.
“There was no need to do that,” I said, recoiling from her.