“I’ll be careful.” She turned to Mythalzen. “Does it hurt you at this distance?”
His ears pinned and his tail tucked. “It smells. It’s dizzying and putrid.”
“But it doesn’t hurt unless there’s a lot more or we touch it.”
Mabilia glared at me, sneering. “I suppose now I know why you always wore gloves and never once touched me. It’s a wonder you never wore a mask. I must reek of poison.”
A breath held in my chest, and I drew my scarred hands out of my pockets. They trembled in the open, every red line an eternal, jagged mark on my flesh. “On my favorite days, you smelled like paint.” My voice was soft, and the tight hold Mabilia had on the wind slipped.
A gentle breeze touched my fingers, easing the numb tingling I had grown all but used to.
Mabilia’s lips parted, but Mythalzen interrupted before she could speak, “My lord? You know the court and how they get.”
“Regrettably.” I stuffed my hands back into my pockets and sighed. “I will be astonished if their patience has held this long. Come, Princess. We will have time enough later for you to hate me.”
Leading Mabilia down the sheer cut path into the ravine, I kept watch on the tunnels we passed for any straying faeries, specifically the nastier ones. Very few would be interested in getting near her armor, but I was not one to take chances. When at last we reached the paths leading into the palace tunnels, the sun had crested the trees and showered the ravine with sparkling light.
Minerals blanketing the walls shimmered in the spare moments before we ducked into the darkness of the tunnels. Before I could lift my hand from my coat, Mythalzen clopped ahead of us, and a stream of tiny golden sparks danced around his head and hooves. Excitement twinkled in his eyes when he looked back at me. “Finally, a party you can’t leave in favor of seeing ‘your princess’.”
Tossing open the throne chamber doors, Mythalzen fell immediately into a bow, bending his knee and lowering his head. Silence washed through the tinkling chamber.
Then it erupted with sound once more. Everyone pushed forward to catch a glance of the woman they knew could spin worlds. They thought her little more than an experiment I had started; they had no idea what the future held or what had truly gone into making her. Those secrets belonged only to Mythalzen.
Releasing a breath, I extended a shaking hand to Mabilia, catching the terror in her eyes a second before she hardened it into cool resignation. “Am I expected to take your arm, Rumpelstiltskin, and be led into your den of monsters?”
The answer was simple enough. “Yes.”
Her gaze flicked to the world she should have always known, but nothing familiar lighted her skeptical eyes. Her beautiful, otherworldly eyes instead clung to every hoof and horn and wing, oblivious to how her pale skin matched mine and her dark hair shone like a raven’s feather in the faerie light. She was—always had been—one of us, but now we were strangers.
She didn’t touch my skin, but she moved her bag to just one hand and took my elbow with the other. I led her into an ocean of bodies that parted like a tide, creating a direct line to my witchwood throne. Murmurs swallowed us, and the fearful eyes of the young ones pinned me in duress. They only brightened when Mythalzen clopped along behind me, no doubt flashing them a wide grin. Too young yet to have learned the scorn of his birth, children adored him in a way no one else in the court saw fit to.
I delivered Mabilia to the vacant throne beside mine, then faced my people. Curiosity. Fear. Disdain. Excitement. Every flavor of emotion concerning her presence speckled the faces of the young and the old. The humans had done very little to affect us from within their glass walls, but we knew their hatred, and for some, that was enough cause to reciprocate.
Nodding my approval, I sat down. Tense though the air was, a flurry of music and cheerful voices returned to the space, coloring it in shades of merriment.
“You have no lover?” Mabilia asked, setting down her bag, sitting beside me, and tracing the knots in the wood of the queen’s throne.
I peered at her. “No, I don’t.”
“In Dale, lore says the fae are ancient creatures. Do you not commit, or have you been alone all this time?” A shiver made her shoulders tense as a drunk sidhe tumbled into the plateau at her feet. The woman laughed, her long antennas searching for purchase and coming uncomfortably close to Mabilia’s boots.
Referencing the woman and the rest of the room, I replied, “You can hardly call this ‘alone’.”
“It is in your eyes, and I know better. This place is one of the loneliest.” She wrapped her arms around her and shifted away from the woman.
I lifted a finger, and Mythalzen jumped to the sidhe’s side, leading her off the steps and back into the room.
Mabilia’s eyes thickened with spite and darkness. “You wear it well, your crown. Just like my father, your pawns adhere to your will with hardly a word.”
“That’s kind of rude.” Mythalzen strode back to his place at my side, hurt polluting the pout on his lips. “To both us and your father, actually. I wouldn’t call myself a pawn.”
“If I’ve really offended you, I apologize, but I see no difference. Both my father and your Lord Rumpelstiltskin wield their power with the intent to hurt others. Instead of standing up to that rule, you oblige your liege without question.” She scanned the room, lingering on a circle of playing children, then whispered, “I’m no different.”
Mythalzen snorted, and Mabilia’s eyes widened on him. He grinned, displaying short fangs. “I ask loads of questions. I’m sure your people do as well. Maybe I’m wrong, but isn’t it hard to follow someone without knowing their intentions and believing in them, at least a little? Fear only goes so far. In the end, our leaders are the ones who have made us trust in their vision.”
“And if that vision is built on lies?”
“Lies crumble and crack; they’re as fragile as hope. We’ve played this game too long to not play it well.”
“You speak too much, Mythalzen.” I sighed, abusing my “pawns” as I called a serving tray to me and took a glass from the platter. The sparkling liquid jerked in my hand.
“Lady Mab?” The woman carrying the tray turned to Mabilia and dropped her head low. Her gossamer wings pinned tight against her back, and a tremble rippled through the clear wine.
“She’s not old enough for this,” I murmured.
The server’s eyes bulged. “Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry. I didn’t—”
“But I am!” Mythalzen sang, plucking a glass off the tray.
I stopped him before the rim touched his lips and returned it. “Let Esme know I’d like to see her.”
“Right away, Lord Rumpelstiltskin.” She hurried her bow and fled the dais, skillfully disappearing into the swirling masses.
“I could have had some,” Mythalzen mumbled.
I side-eyed him, exhausted. “You’re showing off for Mabilia, and while I appreciate your attempts to lighten the mood, you needn’t work so hard or forget your place.”
His wide golden eyes tamed, and he straightened, facing forward. “I’m not showing off for Mabilia, my lord. Of the two of you, I think she’s the one handling this better.”
I glanced at her, and my cup stopped its ascent to my lips. Three piskies flitted before her face, their huge black eyes packed with curiosity that reflected in Mabilia’s gaze. Her lips parted in awe, completely consumed by them and nothing else. I checked for the magic of an entrancement in the air, but that was silly. Mabilia would know as soon as I would.
She lifted a slender finger, and one piskie zipped around it before pulling back. A tiny smile tipped her lips, then it disappeared. “It’s rude to stare.”
I swallowed, taking a sip and feeling the burn of the sweet liquor move down my throat. “It’s hard to help it.”
Her brows furrowed, and she glared. “Why? Am I as strange to you as you are to me?”
“Not at all.” Not even a little. I had orchestrated her existence. She was mo
re familiar to me than anything I had ever known.
“My lord.” Esme drew my attention, and I peered at the bowing woman garbed in scraps of leather. “If I had known you would need me, I wouldn’t have partaken of tonight’s festivities so thoroughly.” When she straightened, her hip jutted, and she planted her hand there, scanning Mabilia with a hawkish stare. A trim brow rose, and her lips pursed. “I did not expect her to have two heads. The humans are generally quite dull in their appearance. Like…brown mice, hidden in a field of dirt to avoid being preyed upon by owls.” Her red, slitted gaze widened, and she peered at me. “I don’t mean to insult. Both her heads look lovel…” she slurred to a halt. “You have two heads as well, my liege.”
“This is hardly the introduction I would have wanted, though it is the one I anticipated.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I handed my glass to Mythalzen. “During the entirety of Mabilia’s stay, you are not to leave her side.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah. Of course not.” She strode to Mythalzen, snatched my glass, and downed the rest of my wine. “I’ll make sure the princess is entirely safe, comfortable, and…” She wiggled her third finger, then glared at it like it had betrayed her. “I’ve lost my thought path.”
“I’m sorry…” Mabilia glanced between me and Esme. “Is this a guard?”
Esme puffed her ample chest and grinned. “Best in the court.”
“Why do I need a guard?” she seethed.
“Because,” I mumbled, standing, “I cannot always be with you during these three days.”
“What?” She stood as well, facing me, her iron-coated skin far too close yet never close enough. “What’s the point of this then? Why would you ask me to be here if you weren’t going to be with me?” Though anger and confusion were most prevalent in her eyes, the hints of panic welling deeper were not lost on me. My chest twinged, stinging.
Though she had determined to detest me, she couldn’t avoid the lingering familiarity between us. Here in my “den of monsters”, I was the one who had spent my days beneath her bed. She knew me. I was her demon, and that ownership allotted some spare amount of twisted comfort.
Holding out a hand, I pinned her icy gaze with my own. “If you wish to spend time with me, would you care to dance?”
She stared at my scarred palm, and her brows knitted. “Why would I want to dance with you?”
“Because you always did. Beneath the moon on a star-speckled night, you always snuck away to your garden, called me, and danced.”
Her cheeks flushed, but she held the glassy tears in her eyes at bay. “Those days are over. You know they are.”
I dropped my hand. “Then don’t complain that I’m not going to be near you if you don’t want me to be. Enjoy your ball, Princess.” Without another word, I pushed past her and out a side door into the hall.
Chapter 5
The Frozen Prison
“I was so hopeful,” Mythalzen grumbled, seated on the floor by my desk. He amused himself by tracing designs made of light into the air. “I was so hopeful we’d get to enjoy one party without you stomping off. But no. Worse. Here we are, doing paperwork.”
Here I was doing sloppy paperwork. He was content to be a distraction. “You’re free to return,” I grumbled, tapping my pen against a page until a dire ink blot formed.
“Why did you run away? Isn’t this everything you’ve wanted for the past seventeen years? She’s right here.” His lips pursed.
“She hates me.” If she had lived here her whole life, things would have been different; from the start, I would have prepared her, guiding her with the understanding of what the future held. Our ending remained the same, but our story had become far less pleasant.
He scoffed, drawing a gleaming heart with his finger. “As if that’s enough to stop you. And I doubt she hates you. She’s hurt, that’s all.”
“She needs to hate me. I need to live up to every despicable story she’s been told.”
Mythalzen leaned back against the drawers and shot me a disgruntled look. “Why in the world would you want that?” When I refused to reply, he scoffed. “Well, then, take her to see her grandfather. That would make any young woman hate all men.”
“I don’t intend to torture her more than I have to.” I scrubbed a shaking hand down my face, and dropped my pen. “You don’t understand the full extent of my plans or why things have to be this way.”
“Because you never like to explain them fully.” The lights at his fingertips fell away. He sighed. “I owe my life to you, Lord Rumpelstiltskin. I hate to see you hurting like this. If you just told her the truth…”
“You will not.” Of everyone under my rule, he knew the most about what I had done, why Mabilia was here, and—perhaps most importantly—what she was. He could spoil everything, and I would not let that happen.
“I won’t. I won’t. But you should. What are you even hoping to accomplish these three days?”
“Enough,” I said.
Mythalzen rolled his eyes and flopped against the fur rug. “Enough. Thank you for so much enlightenment.”
“Have you always been this insolent?” Leaning my head against my fist, I watched him.
His ears wiggled. “Absolutely. You’ve not always been this tense, though.” He melted against the floor. “You just need to relax… Deeps breaths, my lord. I doubt anything you’re writing up there is legible anyway.”
I nudged him with my foot and stretched my fingers; he was right. The scratches I had managed to get down were hardly more than rickety claw marks, barely readable myself. “I can’t have her,” I murmured after a long pause.
“Whyever not?”
Shaking my head, I stood and stepped around the blob of faerie on my floor. He rolled to follow me with his eyes as I crossed to the shelves along the wall.
“Seriously. Whyever not? You don’t need to harm her or enchant her to make her want to sneak away with you after these days are over. She’s always wanted this. Indulge yourself by indulging her.” He winked, his golden eyes flashing with sensual intent.
I had not told him that everything would come to its end before the week was up. “Your satyr is showing, and in this context, I’d prefer it remain hidden.”
His smile only broadened into a smirk. “If you don’t want to, I’m more than happy to take her off your hands.” The glimmer in his eyes died, and he swallowed. “Just a joke.”
Frosty air coiled around me, skittering off my shoes and crawling toward him. “Watch your tongue lest your jokes lead to its removal.”
“Just a joke…” he repeated, looking away.
I took a deep breath, cleared the air, and opened the liquor cabinet tucked between the shelves of tomes. Hardly touched vials of sweet poison rested within, and I took my time selecting a mead.
“You can’t be drinking your worries away.” Esme’s voice startled me, and I turned toward the door. She lingered in the doorway, hiccuping. “That’s my job.”
Panic made my heart leap, and the muscles in my hand jerked, dropping the decanter. “Where is she?”
Before the glass hit the ground, Esme caught it, rising an inch away from me, and slipping to the left. “About that.” She popped the closure off and sniffed before shrugging and tossing a mouthful back. “She disappeared.”
Glass shattered. The icy gales I’d just cleared out of the room appeared in a billowing fury. My nails dug into Esme’s shoulders, but she didn’t flinch as I pressed her against the wall. “What do you mean ‘she disappeared’?”
“I mean I was watching her, then I blinked—like you do—and she vanished. I think she’s under a glamour, but there is no way I’m gonna be able to find her.” Halfway through her response, her gaze slipped to the puddle on the floor, and a tiny frown marred her mouth like she cared more for wasted alcohol than for her charge.
Mabilia could glamour against faeries? Of course she could glamour against faeries. Why would any step of this be easy for me?
Releasing Esme, I pressed my p
alms against my eyes and groaned. My kingdom wasn’t entirely safe, especially not for a woman who smelled of iron and human. She was majorly untrained in her abilities; even the ravine paths would be perilous to her should she fall.
Countless tragedies spun behind my eyes, and my heart thundered. A curse whispered past my lips, and I left the room, steadily marching down the hall, twisting through the corridors toward my chambers.
A number of spells were effortless, performed through internal ability or external energy, but to find someone or something, I would need to set up a dredging table—a thin pool of water wrapped in enchantments that allowed me to dig into the location of a spirit. Unfortunately, I had nothing of Mabilia’s, except for my own soul. Shredded as I already was, what worth did another sliver of my being have in comparison to finding her, making sure she stayed safe? If I just knew where she was, I’d be able to see her; I knew that, but I needed to know where to look.
Slamming into my chamber, I strode directly to my bedside nightstand and paused.
Blue eyes peered at me from the corner of the room. Mabilia sat curled between the wall and my dresser, hugging the bear I had given her. Knees tight against her chest, she appeared tiny, fragile. Alone.
I had seen her like this countless times before. But I had never witnessed the look of abject terror in her eyes. Tears dampened her cheeks, and her lip trembled.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, breathless, unsure if I should go to her or allow her the space.
“Why am I not surprised?” she whispered, dragging her gaze over the interior. “Of course this is your room.”
Befuddled, I blinked at her. “You entered a random room in a castle filled with things you don’t understand?”
“I entered the first room that felt safe.” She buried her face against her knees. “I thought it would be empty, but here you are, a ghost to haunt me.”
“Were you not enjoying the party?” I asked lamely.
Kingdom of Crowns and Glory Page 28