by L. V Russell
“Hush,” Charlotte said, swivelling her head to me. “You think I do not know that?”
“Then why help us?”
Charlotte laughed, the sound both awful and lovely. “I think it would aggrieve your sister, would it not?”
“You don’t like Niven?”
The Spider’s smile widened. “Do you?”
I brought Laphaniel’s hand to my lips, hating how still he was. “Is he going to be okay?”
Charlotte turned back to her potions, crushing something purple into dust with a grinder before setting it over a burner. “Let’s get him through tonight, and then we will see.”
It wasn’t the answer I wanted.
Silently, the Spider tipped the molten purple liquid into a section of jars, corking them all before leaving them high upon a shelf to cool. She lifted another bottle into the candlelight, twisting the bottle, so the contents gleamed a wonderful rainbow of colours. She peered over her shoulder.
“Moonlight and Starshine, little one,” she said. “Amongst many other things you couldn’t possibly fathom. My healing elixir, it takes an age and a day to create.”
“Are you going to get Laphaniel to drink that?”
“Not unless you want him to choke,” Charlotte replied. “But first he needs to be cleaned up. Strip his clothing, then fetch that bowl of clean water by the stove.”
I did as I was told, eager to help, eager to do anything but stand by and watch. The water was heating gently by the fire, a pile of clean cloths folded nearby. I gathered both, settling the bowl on top of the bedside table. I lifted Laphaniel’s clothes, and hesitated.
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
“You will not cause any more damage, and those clothes need to come off before I can help him.”
“Including his jeans?”
“All of it, please,” Charlotte replied without looking at me. “I expect you have seen him un-clothed before?”
I eased Laphaniel’s hoodie and shirt off, his body remaining unresponsive, lolling against me like a ragdoll. I tugged his boots off, then his socks, running my fingers over the arch of his foot, where I knew he was ticklish. He didn’t flinch.
I ran the cloth over his face, down his neck, and over his shoulder, rinsing it out in the water. With another cloth and more clean water, I washed what I could of the wound at his side.
“What is this?” Charlotte asked, slipping in beside me. Her hand lingered over the raised scar above Laphaniel’s heart. “This is an iron mark—this should have killed him.”
I wrung out the cloth in my hands, turning the water a ruddy brown. “It did.”
“Oh?” Her head tilted, teeth clicking as her curiosity piqued.
“It’s why we are in this mess. The curse binding the Seelie Court to a mortal queen broke after he gave his life for me.” I stopped, the words catching against my throat. “He didn’t want to come back.”
Charlotte’s hand stilled, her fingers stretching out until they curled over mine, her skin soft and cold. “Even fey are not immortal, not really. Death is a certainty even for us, though we may evade it, it will always come. It does not let go easily.”
“He’s not the same since he came back,” I said, unable to stop everything from tumbling out. “It’s like he has lost something, but he doesn’t know what, and the nightmares…he won’t sleep, he barely eats.”
“No wonder he is in such a mess,” Charlotte said with a shake of her head. “But I may be able to help with the nightmares. Though now, I need to treat the sickness that has taken hold of him.”
I held Laphaniel’s hand out to Charlotte so she could slip a drip into the back of it, her long claws quick and agile.
Purple liquid dripped slowly from the glass bottle she suspended from above Laphaniel’s bed, slipping down a glass tube into his hand. Charlotte wrapped a bandage tight around his hand.
“I do not trust him not to yank that out,” she said. “Please make sure he doesn’t.”
I nodded, settling onto a small stool close to the bed. I tucked the blankets around Laphaniel, not letting go of his hand.
“A witch foretold he would tear this world apart,” I said, hating the silence.
“And what witch was that, little one?” Charlotte answered, glancing down at Laphaniel. She stroked the matted hair away from his face with a delicate touch and frowned. “Witches have prophesied the end of days many times.”
“What if Arabelle is right this time?”
Charlotte laughed, a quick cold sound that held no humour behind it. “Then there will be nothing you can do to stop it. Kingdoms have fallen by lesser fey.”
“You don’t know him.”
She shrugged, passing me a bowl of cold, clean water. “There are not many faeries that would come this far for a human girl.”
I laid a damp cloth over Laphaniel’s forehead, and he shifted slightly but didn’t wake. Bitter self-pity crept over me, a worthless feeling that nagged and mingled with the regret I carried. The unfairness of it all overshadowed everything until I could barely breathe.
“I should have just stayed with him when I had the chance,” I said quietly, not looking up. “What if I lose him now?”
“Would you have been happy if you had stayed?” the Spider asked, claws running along the wound at Laphaniel’s side.
I hesitated a fraction too long. “Yes.”
“Liar.”
I bristled, looking up to catch the Spider’s eyes. She watched me unblinking, head tilted to the side, soft white hair trailing over her bare shoulders. Her claws remained outstretched over Laphaniel. She clicked her fangs, waiting.
“I wish it had been enough.”
“We all love to wish, little one,” Charlotte said softly. “And to hope.”
“What do you wish for?”
“So many things,” the Spider mused. “Sometimes, I wish for things of beauty, of dreams long forgotten.”
Her eyes were black pits when she looked at me again. I jumped back, sloshing water over myself.
“Sometimes,” she breathed, lips curling away from her fangs, “I wish I could drag the shadows from the walls and weave them into horrors unseen by this world.”
I glanced at Laphaniel, remembering his stories of the Spider-witch who gorged on fey that wandered into her webs. The same Spider that watched over Laphaniel’s prone body with her teeth glinting.
“I can smell your fear, little one,” she said, reaching over to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Not as strong as your lover’s, but you are afraid.”
I pointed upwards, to the white sacks hanging in the thick webbing. Some had bones dangling from iridescent threads. “It would be foolish not to be.”
Charlotte brought another pair of hands up to cradle my face. “Why did you bring him down here, if you are so afraid?”
Tears slipped down my cheeks. “Hope.”
“Even in a place such as this?”
I nodded. “Especially in a place like this.”
Charlotte withdrew her hands from my face, slipping one claw into her mouth to taste the teardrop she had collected. “I mean neither of you any ill intent, little one, if knowing that is any comfort to you.”
“Thank you,” I said after a moment, having nothing else to say.
“Keep that cloth cold.” She nodded to the bowl on the nightstand. “and the water clean.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked, watching as she lay out a selection of tools on top of her worktable.
“I am—” She cut off mid-sentence with a sharp hiss. “Hush! Who dares come down here?”
I snapped my head around to face the doorway, unable to see anyone else in the low light. Slow, skittering footsteps dragged along the stone floor. A jittery, hunched creature emerged from the shadows, horned head bent low.
“It is only Nigit, Dark Widow…” spluttered the cowed, twisted thing. “The Queen sent me, mistress…else Nigit would not be down here. No, no, no, Nigit would not be down here.”
With arachnid grace, Charlotte sprang against the wall, scurrying up with ease until she perched upside down from the ceiling. Her mouth opened wide, jaw clicking as she drew back her lips to reveal her fangs. She tilted backwards, hair floating around her as she twisted her neck, stopping a breath away from the petrified creature.
I cringed beside Laphaniel, silently thankful he was sleeping and wouldn’t see the nightmare crawling overhead.
“I did not invite you here,” she said, words lisping around her bared teeth. “I should suck you dry where you stand.”
“Wait! Wait, mistress, I beg of you…don’t eat Nigit, he is tough and bony, and his blood is weak. Nigit comes only at the request of his Queen.”
Nigit wrung his gnarled fingers, eyes darting around the gloom until they settled on the bed. His entire stance changed instantly as he scented blood. His squat nose twitched, jagged teeth slipping down from his gums, his eyes flickered to me briefly before settling on Laphaniel. Drool slopped from his black lips.
“No!” I raised a hand, fingers curling into a fist. “If you take another step, you won’t have to worry about Charlotte. I’ll tear your head off myself.”
Charlotte clicked her teeth. “I do not doubt it,” the Spider said to me. “What does the Queen want?”
Nigit hunched lower, his tongue flicking out over his lips, leaving a slobbery mess behind. “She wishes to speak with her sister, immediately.”
“No,” I said. “Tell her she can wait. I’m not leaving Laphaniel. I promised I wouldn’t leave him.”
“The Queen demands your company.”
I craned my head up to face Charlotte, but her furious eyes were still pinned on Nigit. “I promised him.”
“Go, little one,” she said, lifting a finger as I began to protest. “Your sister is a malicious creature—it would be best not to keep her waiting. I will keep watch here; he will not notice you are gone. I do need to tend to that wound of his, and it will not be pretty. Perhaps it is for the best you won’t be here to see.”
She leant down to place an icy kiss against my forehead, the points of her teeth grazing my skin.
“I’m trusting you with his life,” I said, breathing in the spider’s scent of dew and cobweb.
Charlotte pressed another chilling kiss upon my skin. “Yes, you are.”
I turned back to Laphaniel, adjusting the covers though he hadn’t moved at all. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I won’t be long. I’m not leaving you, I’m not.” I watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, my hand resting to feel the thump of his heartbeat. “Don’t do anything stupid. I love you.”
Stepping away from the bed, I glanced up at Charlotte. “If Laphaniel does stir, could you not be on the ceiling?”
Her answering laugh was strangely musical. “I may just have to keep you, little one.”
“Nigit will go now too, Dark Widow.” Nigit backed away, keeping his beady eyes upon the spider overhead.
Charlotte lowered herself with a strand of silk. “Oh, I think not.”
I brushed past Nigit on my way out, and though my feet thudded against the floor, and I nearly threw myself back up the stairs, the noise didn’t quite drown out his strangled cry. The sound followed me up, slowly gurgling into a whimper until it silenced completely.
Chapter Nineteen
My hand lingered upon the wall of the dark stairs leading down to Charlotte’s lair, my heart aching to ignore Niven and to just go back down and be beside Laphaniel.
Where I was wanted.
And needed.
I took a breath and held onto it, composing myself before I met with my sister. Then I took another step until I stood once again in the mirrored hallway. Splashes of dried blood flecked the glass, a smear of it over the black marble where Laphaniel had fallen. My reflection was nowhere to be seen.
“This way.”
I hadn’t noticed the faerie waiting for me. He gestured for me to follow with a wave of his slender fingers. Pale blue eyes observed me from a bone white face, while a little smile played out on his lips.
He bowed his head to me, tumbleweed hair crackling over his shoulders. “Let us not keep the queen waiting.”
“No,” I answered, following behind. “We wouldn’t want to do that.”
Down more winding corridors we walked, snaking through labyrinthine passageways that tapered off in countless directions. Tall windows slashed against the black stone giving me the barest glimpse of the sprawling grounds below, all lit by a fat moon and thousands of stars. I kept hold of my star, its weight a comfort in my hand, a light in the dark.
My guide led us up steps that seemed to ascend into the heavens themselves, on and on we climbed, the steps curling around in a tight narrow spiral. It was the second tower I had climbed to face Niven.
I would never forget my first.
“My Queen is waiting for you,” the faerie said when at last we reached the top. He knocked upon a solid wooden door, pushing it open for me with a nasty grin. “My lady! I bring to you, your sister.”
He bowed so low to the ground his nose touched the floor. I didn’t wait to be invited in, pushing past the creeping faerie to step inside.
The room itself was breathtaking, stuffed full of velvet sofas and thick white furs that cascaded over every chair. The walls were carved from the same obsidian stone, all so black it looked like night itself. The black was everywhere, shining, glittering without end. It should have felt suffocating, oppressive, but like the sky, it was endless.
A window had been sculpted from the stone, opening onto a moon-drenched balcony. I could see a lake from where I stood, so perfectly still, it reflected the night like glass.
Niven sprawled over one of the sofas, the dark silken mist of her gown dripping onto the plush rug beside her. She bared her teeth as I came in, the smile feral. Tilting her head back, she puffed out a bluish circle of smoke as she finished her cigarette.
“You wanted to see me?” I said, not returning her smile. “Apparently, it could not wait.”
She didn’t move from her position, drawing another lungful of sweet smoke into her mouth. “If you want our help, there are a few conditions you need to agree to first.”
I sighed, sinking into the sofa opposite her. “Can we make this quick? I really was enjoying Charlotte’s company.”
Niven sat up then, swinging her long legs forwards and reaching for a crystal jug on the marbled table in front of us. She poured a generous amount of amber liquid into two glasses. Niven took a sip, the blue of her eyes like ice.
“Has she eaten your lover yet?”
I refused to bite. “Charlotte seems lovely. She has promised to take care of Laphaniel, and I believe she won’t harm him. Your messenger didn’t fare so well, though.”
Niven lifted an eyebrow. “How is dear Laphaniel?”
I took a sip of my drink, savouring the warmth it left behind. I didn’t want to play Niven’s games. “Do you really care?”
“No.”
“I thought not,” I answered, leaning back into the plush cushions, resenting the comfort that my sister had, the warmth and security. I wondered if she even knew what it was like to be afraid, if she remembered the feeling at all. I wore fear like a second skin.
“Phabian was impressed that he won,” Niven said, draining her glass before refilling it. “Especially given the state he was in.”
“Laphaniel is lying sedated underground while Charlotte stitches him back together.” I took another drink to soothe the ache in my throat.
“The Spider doesn’t much care for me,” Niven said, running a hand through the air to fill the room with a phantom breeze that lifted the scent of the jasmine winding over the balcony.
“I wonder why?”
Niven just flashed a grin, the candles flickering around her with the wind she had stirred up, the shadows waiting in the corners of the room wavered, waiting like leashed dogs.
“How did you end up here, Niven?” I asked. “Why, after e
verything, did you still end up in Faerie?”
“You don’t approve?” Niven barely moved, barely raised her voice, but the shadows around her shuddered, the light quivered against the wicks. “Phabian found me a few months after you broke that damned curse. Everything had changed, but I was still the same. I remembered everything that happened to me, but the world remembered differently, wrongly. You threw me back into a world without faeries, with grieving parents and photos of things I didn’t remember because I wasn’t really a part of it. I was abandoned in a house filled with a childhood that didn’t belong to me, an entire reality that didn’t belong to me, and you ask me why I chose this for myself instead?”
“Why Phabian?”
“Why Laphaniel?” Niven hissed the word as if it were poison. “It’s sickening.”
“You left him to die in my arms,” I reminded her, noting the absence of any regret or remorse on her face. There was not even a trace of guilt. “I didn’t know what happened after the curse was broken. I’m sorry.”
The shadows around Niven calmed. “I didn’t ask for your pity.”
“I don’t pity you, Niven.”
She brought her glass up to her painted mouth, amusements alight in her eyes. “Do you hate me, then?”
“I don’t know anymore,” I answered, draining the last of my drink, resisting the urge to pour another. “I think you deserve to be hated.”
“You’ve changed.”
I played with my glass, running a finger over the rim until it sang for me. “You haven’t.”
“Faerie seems to suit you.”
I blinked, glancing up as a ghost of a smile appeared at her lips, making her look so achingly beautiful. “A compliment?”
“Perhaps.”
“I think you were born to rule the Unseelie,” I said, and she laughed, the sound like poison and wonder.
“Look at us,” Niven said, tipping more liquor into her glass. “Having an almost civilised conversation, next we’ll be hugging.”
“And if I tried?”
“I’d snap your neck.”
I didn’t doubt her. Niven truly made the perfect dark queen, with her porcelain skin and midnight hair, and glare as sharp as her tongue.