by Faith Ellis
We watch each other in silence for a few moments as I piece together everything I have heard and seen. Swallowing a couple of times to gain my voice, I ask, "If I come back, will I remember who I am?"
Aiden frowns. "I do not know for sure. I am not an expert in spells, and though I can lift it, I don't know
how it affects you long term." He regards me quietly. "I would help you, though. I'd do anything I could to make you remember."
I think for a moment. "Halsey."
He glances down. "Yes, you care for her." "She doesn't have anyone else."
"I will see to it that she is well taken care of. I'll even make sure she ends up with a good family who loves her and with parents she deserves."
"You could do that?" "I can and I would."
Lifting my chin, my eyes bore into him. "I want your word. No deviation, straight truth. You said fae can't lie, so your word I can trust."
"You have my word. I will ensure Halsey is placed with a family who loves her and whom she loves in re- turn, and she will be well taken care of." I nod in agree- ment, satisfied with his words.
A deep breeze rustles my shirt and blows my hair back from my face. "Alright, so how do we do it? How do I come back?"
Chapter 6 Andryad
My eyes open to the dusty, chilly room, frustration gripping my neck. I groan. Huffing through my nose, I stare up at the ceiling, imagining the chipped plaster is me—layers being stripped away. Ideas float around in my head, tying together everything Aiden told me, everything feel. The words he spoke… It's hard to say they feel surreal. There has always been this emptiness in me that started with the blank canvas of my past. The inability to tell Aiden the fib about having parents that loved me—it caught going up my throat and lodged behind my tongue, and when I tried to push it out, the truth was revealed instead. Then there is the stone. It still feels warm from the contact, the sudden, light jolt of a shockwave cruising straight to my heart.
A whine rises softly from the back of my throat as I suffer in my own annoyance, the intense silence of the small bedroom filling my ears. Halsey is quiet.
"Halsey?" I whisper across the room. She doesn't re- spond, and her snores aren't vibrating the air. I sit up a little on my bed. It’s too early for the sun to be out, and the moon casts a silver shadow across the floor.
Looking over, I see Halsey isn't in her bed. The girl usu- ally sleeps through the night, but if her breathing gets really bad, sometimes she'll wander downstairs for a glass of milk.
I tug my sheet back. The floor chills my feet as I tiptoe across the wood floor to check the bathroom. Empty. "Halsey?" I call again.
Quietly, I open the door. The thought of either of us waking the Kents raises bumps on my arms in dis- taste of hearing a lecture. If they find out we’re sneak- ing around, it’s better if I take the brunt of the scolding and save Halsey the stress.
Knowing which spots of this house moan and groan the most, I take special care of my steps as I inch down the wooden stairs and into the kitchen, where I find her. For a moment, I stand in the doorway and just look at the young girl. Her smooth round skin makes her look even younger than she is. She seems so vulnera- ble. My heart tightens.
"Hal?" I whisper, but she doesn't stir.
She sits at the small round breakfast nook with an empty glass still clenched in her chubby hand. Her head lies on the table, and I know she is asleep from the awful nasal sounds she makes, bordering on snor- ing. She must have been down here for some time. Drool is pooling from her mouth onto the table, accu- mulating into a small puddle. The clock on the stove shines midnight in electric-blue colors. I sigh, remove the glass from her hand, and put it in the sink. I pick her up, noticing she is lighter than she looks, and care-
fully carry her back upstairs. She doesn't wake up as I tuck her back under her covers and shut our bedroom door. I sit beside her on the edge of her single bed.
Aiden gave me his word. After the proof he showed about my own truth, I believe Hal will be better off Shell have everything she's ever wanted: a family to love her and to share her love with. I don't want her to be sad or lonely. She will get adopted and leave the Kents, leave me, and she could grow up with someone to guide her and snuggle her and read to her every sin- gle night.
A loud snore cuts through my thoughts, and I glance at her, brushing her tangles away from her cheeks. And hopefully, she’ll get parents who resolve her snoring.
By the time I crawl back into my own bed, Hal's breathing has leveled some. The covers conceal her from my view, and I stare at the fraying ends of my own sheet, wondering what living in Faery will be like. Something in my heart speeds up—it's exciting. Some- thing inside of me is saying, "Go, go." Maybe it doesn't all make sense, but then neither does my life here. There is no history for me here and certainly not much of a future. Faery, Aiden—that's where I belong. Some- thing in my soul is pulling me to it; it has been every single night since Aiden sent me here to the mortal realm, and now it’s time to go back.
This is a new part of the realm I have never seen be- fore. Thick white clouds block out the sun and fill the otherwise blue sky. Hills as far as I can see, mountain-
ous and quiet, covered in tall green grass and bright purple and yellow flowers, reaching up for a glimpse of the sun that refuses to shine. In the distance, a wa- terfall spills over one of the mountains and disappears into a body of water I can't see, but even from where I'm standing, I can see the water is vividly blue and clear. And standing in the grass a few feet in front of me is the Second Half Seasons Court prince. I lift my head and return his stare, but my feet won't move. We stare at each other for a long minute. He moves first, swaggering to me in head-to-toe black leathers. Casually pushing his hands into his pockets, he smiles slightly, his emerald eyes meeting mine..
"Princess," he drawls as he bends at the waist in a bow. I feel an urge to giggle, while the nerves of what might happen next build in my core.
Inhaling that smoky pine scent, he puts out, I swal- low. "What happens now?"
His mouth quirks into a lazy grin. The colors here make his eyes shine. "I have to lift the spell for you to return."
"Okay. Um, I mean, how? What do I have to do? I'm ready. I need to learn who I really am. I've wondered who I am for a long time, and I want to understand. I want my memories back."
Aiden regards me for a moment. Then he nods, looking at me. "Okay, princess." He takes out a dagger from his boot, and I back away, putting out my palms in surrender. Has this all been a trick? My breath catches in my throat, and my blood speeds up in my veins,
causing my heart to slam against my ribs. He shifts his eyes to mine, and I see pain flicker there.
"I would never hurt you, Andryad. You have to trust me." He holds the knife out, seeking my understand- ing. "I have to give blood for the spell. My own. I set the spell, so I am the only one who can remove it. Magic has a price, and my blood is its currency."
I look at the dagger again, feeling queasy at the idea of blood, but I relent.
Aiden slides the dagger across his palm, and bright red blood immediately swells from the cut, followed by a sharp metallic scent. He chants a string of words in a language I do not understand before drinking the blood from his palm. The dense clouds break up, and sun- light peeks through, shining directly on us and glint- ing off of his dagger. I make a face of disgust as Aiden continues his chant. The wind picks up, whipping my hair around my face hard enough to force me to hold it back. Then Aiden goes silent, and the wind stops; everything goes deathly still and quiet.
My heart's beating fast as I watch him. His skin is paler. "I don't feel any differently." I flip my hands over, looking for a sign that the spell is broken.
Suddenly, Aiden falls to his knees, gasping for breath, and I start toward him. Before I take a step, I crash to my knees on the grass. Light dew soaks through my jeans before a wave of nausea rushes over me. My body sways, and then everything goes black.
I open my eyes to a cabin
warmed and lit by a fire in a small stone fireplace in the corner. The smells of
vanilla and mint hang in the air, soothing my senses and pounding head. It is a small room with a bed, which I am lying on, and a small table with two chairs in front of me. I groan, gripping my head as it pounds and rages. Looking around, I wonder if I am now awake, back in the mortal world. The cabin looks ordinary and cozy. It is quaint, with transitional decorations, a small kitchen to the side, an open bedroom, and a small door that I wonder if it leads to a closet. Something about this place is familiar; it feels like I have been here be- fore.
The thick blankets fold back as I bend my knees to sit up. A door opens, and in strides the prince. An aura hangs heavy around him in shades of orange—control. His presence makes the cabin feel three times smaller. I can see his authority in the way he moves. He's so confident and sure of himself. His movements are pre- cise as he carries wood and stoops to stoke the fire.
With his back to me, I ask, "What happened?"
He doesn't turn around when he answers me. "The spell was lifted, and it can have…effects of a sort. You might find yourself feeling tired and a bit weak for a couple of days." He remains where he is. "It'll wear off before long."
"And you? Are you okay? I saw you faint."
"I'm fine, princess," he bites out. "Using magic like that takes a serious toll. Magic is something that is taken from the earth. It requires something in return, usually blood, one element for another. There has to be a balance, and depending on what type of magic you're
requesting, the price can be steep." Aiden stokes the fire, and flames respond by dancing higher and brighter as smoke lightly sifts through the air. He sets down the rod and turns to finally face me. "Typically, fae don't mess with magic. We’d rather keep our nat- ural abilities and the world of magic separate, but sometimes, it's necessary. Our abilities can only take us so far." His eyes flick over me quickly, still dressed in my jeans and tee.
Curious now, I ask, "What's my ability?"
His eyes narrow. "I'm not sure yet. But we're going to figure that out."
He straightens and walks back the way he came. The attempt I make to stand leaves me dizzy, and my butt drops back down onto the soft mattress with a light creak as I question, "Where are you going?"
Turning his body toward me, he crosses his arms over his broad chest, a look of concern shadowing his features. "You should rest while you can."
"What is this place?" I prod.
His arms drop to his sides. "You don't remember?" My eyes fall to my hands, and for the first time, I notice how long and slender my fingers are. A pale shimmer covers smooth skin all the way up, coating my body. It reminds me of the glitter-like appearance of fish scales. Aiden tilts his head to one side, watching me as I survey my body in shock.
"When I broke the spell, the glamour lifted. You have your fae form back, An." The words are gentle, but something like fear runs through me at this new
body. My knees unwind from under me; I see how my jeans are too short, my legs, long and lean. As I bend to survey them more closely, long, straight hair falls over my shoulder in a curtain of silver. It is soft and smooth, falling nearly to my waist in beautiful cascades.
"Here." Aiden reaches for a dagger that sits on the small table.
It is a beautiful piece with a sturdy, ruby-encrusted hilt. Each ruby is embedded in a gold circlet, starburst- ing out like a sun. The double-edged blade is shiny, so clean that as he hands it to me, I can see my reflec- tion. As I grab the hilt, a beautiful face stares at me, my eyes still that same striking blue. But my skin is so bright, my cheekbones are high and sharp, and my ears are delicately pointed and stand tall. The stone, still in my throat, glitters in the shiny metal of the blade.
My grasp on the hilt tightens, and a breath bursts out of me as if I have been punched in the gut. Images flicker over my eyes of a young fae girl playing with a young boy, his unruly blond curls bouncing as he chases her around a small table with a dagger nearly too big for him. Laughter rises from both of their throats as the girl hops onto the bed on the other side, her own weapon raised. Little sparks dance along her fingertips. They are playing, chasing each other, but with real weapons.
The air rushes back into my lungs, and Aiden is crouched in front of me, watching with interest, not concern. I stare at him, my voice so small I barely hear it. "What is this place?"
"What did you see?"
"I'm not sure. Children… I think they were playing. A small girl and a little blond boy with this dagger." I look at the dagger I still grip. "It looked like they were here, but I don't think it was the same, exactly."
"No, it would've been years ago. This cabin is an outpost for the First Court, where two guards would come to alternate patrol of the First Court's borders. I've stayed here on and off since I put you in the hu- man realm. It's a nice place to hide. That little girl was you, An. The dagger must've brought back a memory. It is your dagger, after all. Your best friend once gave it to you as a present."
"I can't remember him." My other hand cups the top of my head, urging myself to think, to remember. Aiden takes my hand in his.
"You will."
Emotions swarm over me. Frustration fills me, mak- ing me breathe harder. Aiden's gaze softens as he watches me, but he does not move or let go of my hand. "I want to know," I whisper.
"It might take some time. This is a good sign, though, it shows that something’s coming back. Once you get stronger, that might help too." His voice is strained but confident.
"I need to know everything that happened. Every- thing that led to the decision to put me in the human world, everything since I've been gone. Tell me all of it." My hand pulls from his and curls against me, the
other still heavy on the dagger in an effort to remem- ber, but no more images possess my mind.
He leans back on his heels, still crouched before me on the bed. "Andryad, the night we held the cere- mony to announce our betrothal—that's the first time I found out the queen's plans."
"What kind of ceremony? Like a party?"
Aiden smiles a little. "Yeah, kind of like a party. A celebration, a big one, actually. Both courts came to- gether to celebrate us. That's when you got the be- trothal stone." He points to the opal at my throat, and it warms as I touch it.
"How'd you find out?"
"Honestly? She just told me, but she assumed that I was on her side. I mean, to be fair, I'm her son. But I love you, so, I admit, I made the decision rashly, but it was the only thing I could think of at the moment, and there wasn't much time to reconsider. Also, putting you in the human realm gave me a few months to think about what I could do, and that comes down to killing her."
"But she's your mother?" It is a question, for I can- not fathom killing your own mother. For as long as I was human, I wanted a mother of my own. Looking at other people around me, I saw the bond that could ex- ist between a parent and a child, and my heart ached for that.
Aiden sighs. "Look, Andryad, I know this is hard to comprehend. I know you don't remember, but every- one knows what she is. Our main focus now needs to
be keeping you alive. You will have to be the one to kill the queen, or she will kill you; you will be the only one strong enough. I'm sorry, but we have no choice. It isn't so uncommon for the fae in general to be malevolent. You and I, though"—he smiles brightly—"our dreams were to change this. To bring the courts together and create a united, kind Folk."
I wait for him to continue. He looks at his hands, and there's an underlying emotion—longing, per- haps—hidden within his voice. "Why me? Why do I have to be the one to kill her? Can't you, or—or I don't know—I'm sure you have plenty of soldiers—" Oh, my head.
Aiden squeezes his eyes shut. "Queen Mable is strong. I'm certain you will be the only one to match her strength."
"You just said you didn't know my ability!"
"Yet," he corrects. He moves closer to me. The heat radiates off him. It makes my breathing ragged. "I lo
ve you."
The words ring through my head, but my mouth doesn't move. In my mind, I still don't know this male in front of me.
"I will be with you every step of the way. And my mother's heart is overridden with dark jealousy. She's always been cruel, but now she's just vicious. She would kill me to get to you, if that's what it takes. We need to train you."
My head spins, but the look on Aiden's face is im- passive. He knows what needs to be done, but how do
I match his passion when I can't even remember who I am?
Moments pass, both of us silent. The only sound is the pleasant rumble of the slow-burning fire.
He hesitates before taking both of my hands in his, dropping the dagger into my lap. His hands are far larger than my own and are rough, callused from hours of practicing with the sword that still hangs on his hip. His touch sends electricity shooting through my veins, and a new flash of images runs through my mind.
Sunshine glows brightly from above, bathing an ex- panse of meticulously manicured gardens blooming with flowers of every variety. Behind a row of tall bushes, shaped elegantly, there is myself as I am now—fae. Wrapped in an elegant sky-blue gown that rustles lightly in the breeze. In front of me, pressed against me, is Aiden. My heart stutters to see us so close, intimately embracing each other, his lips trailing from mine, down my neck. Heat rises in my cheeks. I watch myself laugh and kiss him back before smiling wildly and taking off in a sprint, looking back to see if he is chasing me. He does, quickly catching up and picking me up in his embrace.