by L. V Russell
“I bring food,” she began, her words strangely soft and lovely. “And clothing.”
A tray appeared from the mist, settling without a sound upon the table. The green-eyed faerie kept her gaze upon us, head twisting like an owl.
“You are to meet with the King at noon rise,” she sang. “Do not be late.”
She vanished without a trace, the door shutting silently, leaving behind only the echo of her lilting voice.
“Why even bother to have locks if they can just poof inside?” I said while Laphaniel stared at the doorway.
“I hate this place,” he muttered under his breath, slipping from the bed to the table of food.
“Is that fresh coffee I can smell?”
Laphaniel rolled his eyes and poured me a cup. I sat opposite him, accepting the steaming coffee gratefully.
Gleaming red apples lay piled in a bowl beside a platter of thinly sliced meat, and fat grapes, full to bursting draped beside wedges of cheese. Steam rose from a chunk of fresh bread.
My mouth watered.
“Anything I shouldn’t eat?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee and feeling it warm my very soul.
Laphaniel popped a grape into his mouth, closing his eyes before plucking a few more from the stems. He swallowed before plucking them from my reach.
“These are overflowing with honey wine,” he said, sucking the juice from his fingers. “Everything else is fine.”
I could smell the sweetness over the table. “Can I have one?”
“No.” A lovely mischief danced in his eyes. “These are to be savoured under a moonlit summer, beneath singing boughs and whispering winds. Not here.”
I could almost taste the promise, the warmth of a breeze on naked skin, drunk on love and happiness, and too much wine. “I will hold you to that summer.”
“Then I promise you, when we leave this nightmare behind, when everything is as it should be, I will feed you wine-soaked fruit until you can no longer feel the world beneath you.”
Oh, the thought of it. “And then what would you do?”
He tore off a chunk of bread, slathering it with jam. “Whatever you wanted me to do.”
I spluttered into my coffee, and he sniggered, the sound dark and wicked and wonderful.
We finished breakfast together, the enjoyment of eating good food overshadowed by the knowledge we had to meet with the King. I could not shake the fear that it would all be futile in the end.
I could not envision an outcome where we faced Luthien and won.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The throne room was quiet. No fey lingered within the shadows that dripped down the walls, no shrieks or hisses crept up from the quiet. Even the flames within the fireplace kept their peace.
The Unseelie King sat upon his throne, dressed in black shadows that roiled and shifted as he moved. A cloak of inky feathers hung from his shoulders, stirring around him, still longing for flight. He peered down at us like we were insects he longed to crush. Niven sat beside him, her midnight gown looking as if it were made of nothing but the night sky. Her haunting beauty eclipsed the ordinary face of the King.
“I do not recall permitting you to elope,” the Unseelie King said, voice carrying across the empty room. Shadows scattered; the candlelight cringed within their holders.
Laphaniel tilted his head to meet the cold stare of the king. “I never asked your permission.”
The darkness watching from the walls seeped to the floor in black puddles, slithering to the raised stone dais to swarm at the Unseelie King’s feet. A wine glass materialised from the black, shining with blood-red wine. He drank deeply, the red staining his lips.
“I wonder what you would give to protect your new bride?” Mist circled the Unseelie King’s glass, trailing over his fingers. His smile was chilling.
“Whatever it takes,” Laphaniel answered.
The Unseelie King drained his wine and tossed it aside, the cup evaporating into wisps of darkness. He pulled two more from the shadows. “I thought as much.”
Niven took the cup offered to her, lips already stained with wine. “Is there anything you would not do?”
Laphaniel turned to my sister. “No.”
“You know I was not always like this,” the Unseelie King began, gesturing to the shadows tangling around him. “I once was weak, powerless. Human. I am none of these now. I am a true king of Faerie, and my fey and the shadows tremble before me.”
“Teya already has the backing of many Seelie fey,” Laphaniel said.
“Only a scattering few.” The Unseelie King switched his gaze to me, lip curling. “The Seelie will not accept a mortal queen.”
Laphaniel took a step forward, voice rising. “They have—”
“But would they, I wonder?” the King interrupted, leaning forwards. “Or better yet, would you accept one if it were different? If it were any other girl but the one at your side, would you happily slaughter her to put Luthien upon your throne?”
“I wou—” The words caught in Laphaniel’s throat, and he stopped with a hiss of pain.
A lie.
“As I thought.” A strange calm settled over the shadows, they stopped moving as if waiting. “Faeries are all the same, really. Bloodthirsty and restless. I love it all.”
I looked between Laphaniel and the King, unsure if I understood what was implied. “You mean for me to become like you?”
He cocked his head, feathers rippling around him. “Could you be someone like me, Teya?”
“Never in a thousand lifetimes.”
A slow smile lifted the edges of his mouth. “Wait until you have lived a thousand lifetimes, and we shall see.”
“Are you truly suggesting Teya becomes fey?” Laphaniel demanded. “In the same godsdamned experiment that created you?”
“Yes.”
I blew out a slow breath. “Didn’t turning you fey kill the previous Unseelie Queen? What foolish creature do you intend to sacrifice for me?”
Niven pointed, tendrils of mist dancing over her fingertips. I couldn’t stop the quick bark of laughter that escaped my mouth.
“Have you completely lost your mind?”
“To be like me, little Queenling,” the Unseelie King began, lifting the darkness from the corners, snuffing out candles as he called more and more shadows to his feet. “You will need someone willing. It is of the utmost importance that they are willing and share a connection with you. A connection of the heart will do, the soul all the better.” He cast a glance at Laphaniel, a smirk upon his lips. “Without this, the essence has nothing to adhere to, it has nothing calling it home.”
“We are done here.” I turned, a hand at Laphaniel’s elbow.
Niven’s voice sounded behind me in a caress of darkness. “He doesn’t have to die if you don’t want him to.”
“How?” Laphaniel pulled away from me, stepping up to the knotted thrones.
“We leave just enough of what makes you fey behind to keep you alive,” the Unseelie King replied with a small shrug.
“No, Laphaniel.” My mouth was dry, my stomach a churning mess. I longed for a glass of the too red wine but didn’t dare ask. “There has to be another way. Niven is every inch an Unseelie queen, and she is still human.”
“Niven is a psychopath.”
My sister grinned from her throne, tipping her glass in Laphaniel’s direction.
“This may be the only way we can win, Teya,” Laphaniel said. “It could put you on equal footing with Luthien.”
“And what will it do to you?”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“You would lose your Glamour,” I breathed. “Everything that makes you who you are.”
“Not everything,” he replied. “You are a part of who I am now. I am doing this so I do not lose you.”
I closed my eyes, fingers coming up to run over the points of the star at my neck. “Laphaniel—”
“How is it done?” he asked, cutting me off.
The Unseelie King trailed a lazy hand through the shadows, stirring them up into beasts and monsters before shredding them apart. “We go down into the pools deep beneath the castle, the Spider will do the rest.”
“Do what?” I dared ask.
Something dark and cruel sparked in the Unseelie King’s eyes, transforming them from ordinary brown to something otherworldly.
“You will see.”
The doors to the cavernous room swung open, and Charlotte swept in without a sound, the delicate folds of her gown floating around her like fog. She stopped close to the knotted thrones and curtsied low, sweeping across the floor in a graceful move that was as elegant as it was mocking.
“You have kept us waiting, witch,” The Unseelie King began, and Charlotte bared her fangs at the insult. “I trust you are ready?”
I stepped in front of the Spider. “Did you know about this?”
“Does it make a difference if I did, little one?”
Betrayal, cold and swift, hit me harder than I thought it would. Charlotte did not owe me loyalty, I knew that, but it was crushing all the same.
“Did you just save Laphaniel’s life so he could sacrifice himself?”
Hurt flickered across her face, gone in a flash. “I did not.”
Slipping past me, the Spider outstretched one hand to Laphaniel, waiting without a word for him to take it. He hesitated before closing his fingers around hers.
“Come then,” Charlotte said.
We followed down narrow corridors of perfect black, the candlelight burning from the gaps in the stone, snuffing out when the Unseelie King passed them by. Niven ran her nails along the smooth stone, setting my teeth on edge with the noise they made.
Shadows raced after us, curling from the walls, the floor, and the dripping ceiling high above us. Swathes of black laced around my legs like cats, they flowed up over my shoulders, noosed loosely around my neck, teased my hair.
Down and down and down we went. The air grew wet and close. The obsidian walls became rough stone, with thick vines curling down the cracks to tumble to the ground in a tangle of green. Stalactites dripped from above, huge and pointed. As sharp as daggers.
More than once, I lost my footing on the slick ground, grabbing at the equally slick walls to keep from falling. Niven glided over the treacherous stone without so much as a wobble. Charlotte led Laphaniel down, her hand still in his, not letting go.
Carved doors opened to a sprawling antechamber; monstrous serpents had been etched deep into the stone, their eyes fixed with luminous blue gems. Wide smooth steps led down to countless pools of water, the steam rising from the surface to coat the air around us in a strangely scented smog. Orbs of dazzling light skipped overhead, catching the green in the silent waters. The pools were deep and bottomless and utterly still.
Stone columns rose up from the ground, more serpents winding around them, impossible wings stretched out to touch the vaulted ceiling. The skittering orbs lit up the blue gems embedded in their eyes, fracturing the light into streams of colour.
“Remember not to kill him, witch. I would rather not have to fish his corpse from my pools.”
The Unseelie King’s voice rang out over the cavern, echoing his malice over and over. He leant against one of the misshapen columns, arms crossed while he watched on. Niven stood beside him, her blue eyes bright.
“You will need to get into the water,” Charlotte began, addressing Laphaniel. She caught his arm when he made to move. “But not quite yet.”
Charlotte held up a vial for us all to see. The thick substance inside glowed faintly, sliding down the glass in gloopy streaks.
“This will turn your Glamour into something corporal,” Charlotte continued. “Something I can mould with my hands and pull out.”
“What will you leave behind?” I asked, unease settling over me like a cloak.
“Enough so that he lives.” Charlotte lifted one of her glass needles from a pocket of silk. Laphaniel took a step back, the colour leeching from his face. “Take off your shirt and boots. You may keep your trousers on. It may be best if you sat down, angel.”
Laphaniel did as he was told and sat at the edge of the pool. I sat beside him, keeping his gaze while Charlotte twisted his arm around.
“Deep breath,” I whispered so only he could hear. He gave a tight smile before closing his eyes. He flinched as Charlotte slid the needle into his arm, one hand curling around the edge of the pool.
Blue light instantly glowed from his veins, rushing around his body in flashes. It raced towards his heart, spiralling around it before splaying out into countless tendrils.
A gasp slipped from his mouth, but before I could say anything, the Spider shoved him backwards into the water.
Charlotte slipped in after him, the silks of her gown swirling around her. “Stay there!” she hissed at me. “Do not get into the water until I tell you.”
She gave me a sharp shove, and I stumbled back from the water’s edge. With one set of hands, she gripped Laphaniel’s shoulder and dragged him up, and he managed to suck in a quick mouthful of air before she forced him under again.
Bubbles slipped to the surface, the greenish waters lapping frantically over the stone as Laphaniel fought back.
Charlotte didn’t allow him up.
I scrambled forwards, jolting when my arm was yanked back. My feet left the ground when I was tossed against the wall.
“Do as you are told,” the Unseelie King snapped, towering over me. “You are to watch.”
“As he drowns?” My words were desperate.
I lifted my head, fighting the need to crawl back to the water’s edge and stop it all. From above me, I could hear Niven snicker. I couldn’t look at her. I wouldn’t.
Shimmering tendrils began to creep around Charlotte’s claws, coiling over her wrists to dance across the deep waters. The green ripples glittered, swirling and swirling in a secluded tempest until the waters moved so frantically, it revealed Laphaniel struggling against its relentless tide.
Laphaniel thrashed, again and again, both hands curled tight over Charlotte’s wrists. She held him tight, the ruined pieces of her gown beating around her.
The pool came alive with light, rushing up in a whirl of foam and magic until it reached the vaulted ceiling high above us.
I could no longer see them. Not through the storm of wild waters. My heart crashed at my breast, my lungs burning as I held my breath…I’d take another when he did…
The water dropped like rainfall, slipping back into the pool without a ripple. A sheen of glowing light covered the surface like oil, bubbling in golds and pinks and lilacs.
Laphaniel’s Glamour, floating all around him.
“Get into the water, little one.” Charlotte outstretched her hand, beckoning me forward. I ran to Laphaniel instead.
He clung to the edge of the pool, panting, head resting on the stone.
“Are you okay?” I demanded. “Laphaniel?”
He nodded, not looking up. With a grunt, he hauled himself from the pool, the glimmering water running off him in streams of colour.
“I am an excellent weaver, little one,” Charlotte said, plucking threads of gold from the water. “But even I cannot weave Glamour once it turns back to whispers and wishes—get into the water now.”
“Go on,” Laphaniel said, his breathing rapid. “I’m fine.”
I made to touch him, the remnants of his Glamour sparking against my fingers like static. He shivered under my touch, his clothing in tatters.
With a snarl and a rush of shadows, Niven stepped up beside us and gave me a sharp kick. I tumbled, plunging headfirst into the waiting water.
Darkness, thick and heavy, swallowed everything up. Claws scraped along my arms, my legs, over my chest, everywhere and nowhere. They left behind flashes of heat, followed by a rush of cold. Within the black, my skin glowed with dazzling threads, as the Spider wove the tangled Glamour deep into my skin.
I wanted to scream. To cry… to breat
he. Anything.
But I fell instead.
Falling and falling and falling into blackness and silence. There was nothing else but darkness and unending pain that felt like it was tearing me apart.
Then nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I opened my eyes to screaming. A hollow, agonised cry that charged through the air until there was nothing left but the sound of pain.
Columns of smooth white stone surrounded me, all wound tight with lush vines bursting with pink flowers. Silken panels draped over tall open windows, sweeping across a mosaic floor of swirling golden patterns. The air was crisp and cool, sweet with the scent of pine. Snow covered the mountain tops I could see from the window, standing tall and imposing over an evergreen forest.
The deep underground cavern of the Unseelie was gone. Where I was, I had no idea.
Below the window, just beyond a rolling garden, a lake stretched out as far as I could see. Waterfalls crashed down from the hills surrounding it, the rivers above tumbling over the sides with a constant roar of water.
The beauty of it all seemed so crude against the echo of screams.
A willowy faerie ran by, wings buzzing behind her. I pressed myself against the wall to avoid her colliding with me, but she took no notice. She clutched a bundle of sheets to her chest, and looking closer, I noticed they were covered in red.
The faerie stopped briefly to place a clawed hand upon a small child I had not noticed. He sat with his back to the wall, hands clamped over his ears, eyes shut tight, his mess of dark hair hanging over his face. Not a word passed between them; the passing faerie barely glanced down.
“Are you okay?” I asked the boy gently, walking towards him. I took another step, turning as a man stormed by and passed straight through me like I was a ghost.
Beside me, the boy flinched, curling up to make himself smaller.
“Altha!” A silver-haired man caught the arm of the willowy faerie, dragging her back to him. “Do I have a son?”
“A daughter, my lord…” Altha stammered, pale wings fluttering nervously behind her. “A beautiful sister for your eldest…”