Woe for a Faerie Page 21

  Night never came to their world. Darkness stayed outside the city walls and shadows were treated as enemies and punishment. Inside, they used light-stay spells on potted lamps to illuminate the rooms.

  With mind reading, everything could be common knowledge, but each respected the mental privacy fences each individual possessed. The Fae never went where they weren’t specifically invited. Decorum and politeness reigned.

  This behavior had been duplicated in each metropolis that polka-dotted the kingdom. Thunderstorms did not happen here. Moisture rose up from the ground and watered all living things. Cisterns never ran dry. Fountains sparkled in diamond cascades.

  I tipped up on bare feet to take in as much as possible. The combat boots did not match the dress. Arún said his parents wouldn’t care, but I had slipped the thick-soled shoes off as soon as he had gone.

  Now I second-guessed my barefoot decision. While he had been gone, I used the few hair products I had brought with me and piled my dark hair on top of my head. I had teased a few strands down, but maybe I should just let all my hair down.

  Several Fae women had eyed me with curiosity as we’d traveled through the castle. They all had their hair up, but maybe they were employees. Maybe only employees kept that style. Maybe the royalty wore their hair down. Arún had been no help. He had only said they would love me before rushing out into the city.

  I crossed my arms. I couldn’t tell how much time had passed. The last time I had been there, I had freed a prisoner in the dungeon. I wondered what happened to the filth.

  I crossed the room to the double bronze doors. Each one was designed as squares stacked one on top of the other. I pulled the oversized ring in the middle of the door. It opened easily. I stuck my head into the hallway.

  He’d gifted the prisoner to me and gave me the chance to kill him for what he had done to Hannah. When I didn’t, Arún had praised me. I believed he understood why I couldn’t.

  I had freed him for her. I had given him the second chance Hannah never had.

  I ran back to the balcony. This was higher than the view from the prison cell. All I had to do was find the stairs. Surely, someone could direct me to the dungeon.

  A little while later, suffering through odd looks from Fae, I found myself at the entrance to the dungeon. After an uncomfortable conversation with an old woman who wanted to touch my round ears, I loosed my hair to cover them.

  I peered through the wrought-iron gate and down the hall. In contrast to the cleanliness of the main city, this harkened back to the medieval dark ages. Shadows leaned inward and a chill filled the corners. Bits of sticks and straw littered the stonework floor.

  “Excuse me, miss,” said a gruff voice.

  “Oh, I beg your pardon.” I jumped aside for a gladiator-jailer who led a man by a chain connected to cuffs that circled his wrists and ankles. I tripped on my long skirts and fell into the stone wall.

  “Are you all right, miss?” The Fae had rips in the tops of his pointed ears and swollen lobes at the bottom, like he had been in wrestling matches and brawls through the years.

  Flabbergasted, I asked, “You speak English?”

  “Yes, miss, I heard bits of thought from you without meaning to. It was English, so I spoke to you in English. Most Fae learn many languages, English being one.”

  I gaped at him.

  “Are you all right, miss?” he asked again.

  “Oh, yes.” I sounded as breathy as a fainting woman, always looking to be rescued by somebody on the subway. Maybe I could use it to my advantage. “Oh,” I breathed again. “I wonder if you can tell me about a prisoner.”

  He scowled. “We don’t have any prisoners in here, miss.” He tugged on the chain and it rattled against the stone.

  His chest puffed up. “Crime doesn’t linger long in our streets. The King and Queen see to that.”

  “Well, he used to be a prisoner.”

  He squinted at me and scowled. “Where did he go?”

  “I thought you might be able to tell me.”

  His scowl darkened.

  I described the thin man, the stringy black hair, and the crude-oil stench. When I mentioned the rounded, human ears, his eyes widened with recognition.

  “Ah, yes, that one,” he said. “Somehow, he got away, but kind Prince Arúnsearc Scíath Sciathán did not give me the blame for that one.” He scratched his head. “Though, he rightly could have.”

  I nodded and pressed my hands together. “That was generous of Arún.”

  The guard’s eyes narrowed. “Miss, don’t let anyone catch you referring to the Prince in that way. Only his mate would be allowed to call him that.”

  I thought my lips might split with the grin, but I pressed my hand over my mouth while I schooled my face. “Yes, yes, you’re right. Absolutely. Could you tell me what happened to the prisoner?”

  The jailer shrugged. “We think he got out of the castle by way of the sewers. We just found his cell empty.” He tugged on the heavy chain again and his prisoner climbed to his feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, miss. We’ll be on our way.”

  I thanked him and offered a wobbly curtsy.

  After he had gone, I paced in the corridor. I wanted to find out what had happened to the vile creature, but there didn’t seem to be any way to track him.

  That was the end of that.

  Instead, I decided to head back to Arún’s quarters to wait for him. Maybe he would be back by the time I got there.

  Still barefoot, I started down the passageway. Somewhere above the dungeon, a chorus of sopranos had started to sing. The tune reminded me of a hymn Hannah had loved. It had been my favorite until she had been murdered in the alleyway.

  I recognized the crude-oil stench too late. Images from the park, the car, the last time I had been in this dungeon, exploded in my mind. Fingers pressed against my throat, a ten-digit choker. Stringy, black hair fell over my face and a liquid voice hissed in my ear, “I have been waiting for you, Fairy Queen. You’re my ticket home.”

  I pulled at the bony hands, but he wouldn’t let go. The empty hall offered no hope of rescue, only him and me, struggling in a shadowy alcove.

  “I will take you to her,” he whispered. “She promised to let me come home if I bring you. Dead or alive.”

  I slammed him against the wall behind us, but his grip did not loosen.

  “I have hated you. Oh, how I have hated you,” he crooned. His raspy breath was labored, but his hold only tightened.

  I wished for a weapon, anything. I could not die like this.

  The belt knife.

  I didn’t know how to use it. The momentary indecision shattered as the next thought crashed against my panic.

  It’s my only chance.

  Like a ragdoll in his hands, my eyes bulged and a black curtain closed in from the sides, pressing out reality. I fumbled with the hilt as spots swam in my vision. Unconsciousness clouded my thoughts as I pulled the blade from the sheath. He prattled on, spewing hate that had blossomed even more in the darkness beneath the castle.

  I positioned the point to face him, low and at my side. I moved as little as possible to keep from drawing his attention to my movements. I placed my other palm on the end of the hilt, ready to push the blade into him.

  I had to do this. I could do this. My life depended on it.

  Breathe. Breathe.

  1… 2… 3….

  I pressed with all my might. He let out a yell that echoed up and down the hall. His hands fell away from my neck. He leapt one way and I leapt the other. The belt knife clattered to the ground.

  There was a shout.

  He pounced on the belt knife, madness in his eyes, a bright red stain spreading across the threadbare ruin of his clothes. The fabric bits had grown more tattered since I had seen him last. He circled to the right and I circled to the left. He stabbed at the air.

  I held up my hands. “You had a second chance.”

  “No, no, no second chance with her. I was to bring you to he
r or die trying,” he whined. “She is a cruel mistress. Unforgiving.”

  “You could be free of her.”

  He stabbed at the air and advanced four steps. “You will die with me.”

  The knife caught my sleeve and slit it open. A close call. Too close a call. Weaponless, I didn’t stand a chance.

  Movement came at the end of the hall. He saw my gaze shift and he dove at me. I screamed.

  More shouts echoed down the hall. The fugitive heard the guards’ voices this time.

  He yanked me against him and pressed the belt knife to my throat.

  This had gone from bad to worse. Twenty-five Fae soldiers advanced, crammed together. Some brandished spears. Others held bows and arrows.

  “Let her go,” the captain yelled at my captor.

  “Never,” he answered. “I have failed, but no one will have you. Not my queen, not the Fae. I will cause your lover to feel the pain I bear.” He whispered the words against my ear. “My death is assured.” He made a slicing movement, and red spurted from beneath my chin. “So is yours, breeder.”

  Blood trickled down my neck and out onto my dress. At first, the cut didn’t hurt, but then the throbbing started. I coughed and a gush of red poured down my chest. It wouldn’t be long now.

  He hissed, “You will die, Fairy Queen.”

  A new shadow crossed behind us.

  The knife fell.

  The creep disappeared and I spun, ready to defend myself, hands pressed against my neck.

  Arún held him, one hand on the skinny man’s chin, the other on his neck. Arún stared at me, his look inscrutable. With a quick motion, he pressed his hands in opposite directions. I flinched as the sound of crunching bones echoed up and down the passageway.

  The henchman crumpled to the floor, and I followed close behind.

  38

  Culture Shock

  Woe

  Royal Home, Eilean Ren, Capital of the Kingdom, Fae Realm

  As the world receded, the floor became arms, and I floated. Like the first step into flight: weightless.

  But I wanted to stay in the warmth.

  I needed to do… something. Black faded to numb gray, a cloud lifting me away.

  A peculiar sensation stirred in the pit of my stomach, spreading warmth through me. I shivered. Flakes of starlight moved across my thoughts.

  Arún had saved me again.

  He shifted me against his rigid chest, his forearms like steel supports beneath me. With shaking arms, he crushed me to him as though he were afraid I might fly away.

  Slowly, the sounds of the city increased, and then I could hear his heartbeat, fast and uneven. Arún didn’t say anything as he carried me back to his room. He eased me down into his bed. “Let me see,” he said, easing my chin first one way and then the other.

  And then I saw the tears in his eyes. I scowled and eased myself from the bed. He stopped me, grasping my upper arms. “What happened—?” But I remembered before finishing my question.

  Oh no.

  I reached for my throat, but the wound was gone. When I pulled my hands away, I expected to see blood dripping from them.

  He didn’t smile. He didn’t frown. He didn’t yell.

  I wished he would yell at me.

  Blood covered me, soaking all my clothes. My fingers grazed my neck again. The wound should still have been there. I wasn’t sure what Arún had done.

  When I’d first woken up, I was on the floor, covered in blood, squashed against Arún’s chest, shivering from a dousing of magic. And then I had passed out.

  He still hadn’t answered me. He just stared at me as though he was watching the scene again. His dazed expression frightened me. “Arún?”

  The sound of his name seemed to snap him out of it. He let go and then spun on his heels, crossed the expanse, and gently closed the bronze doors. He laid his forehead against the metal and stood there with his back to me. I followed.

  Without turning, he said, “I almost lost you.” A shudder moved through his body.

  That wasn’t what I expected.

  “I saw your life-light flicker,” he whispered. “I came to get handcuffs for the shifter, and I nearly lost you.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. Thanks to him. He’d healed me. “Wait. Handcuffs? For the shifter?”

  He spun, anger sparking in his eyes. “Why were you down there?”

  “I was checking on someone.” Not untrue.

  “Who could you possibly know in the dungeon?”

  I unwished my wish. His yell frightened me.

  “Of all the ridiculous…” he shouted. “You went to check on the evil you freed?”

  He punched a vase off a table and it shattered on the floor.

  It wasn’t ridiculous to want to know if mercy mattered. “I just wanted to check on him–” I started. He didn’t wait for me to finish.

  “A murderer, Woe? Why would you do risk yourself to do something so stupid?” He pushed both hands through his hair and stomped from the entrance to the balcony and back again.

  “It wasn’t wrong to want to know,” I yelled back. “Where were you?”

  “I had to check on some things for Jason. I needed to ask about some handcuffs.”

  “Handcuffs. For Jason? That’s what took so long.” My voice rose to shrill. “That’s why you left me alone for so long? For Jason?”

  It didn’t make any sense, but the realization infuriated me. Jason meddling.

  “Don’t question me,” Arún growled. “Everything I do is to keep you safe.”

  “Don’t boss me around like that, Arún. I don’t have to listen to you. I choose to. When I choose to. I am not required to obey.”

  And I wouldn’t. He had no right to be angry. He kept secrets, too.

  He crossed his arms while his chest rose and fell quickly. “It is my right.”

  “How?”

  “I… I… I am bonded to you.”

  My mouth fell open. “What?”

  His shoulders sagged. “It happened without my permission.”

  “Or mine,” I said.

  “It means nothing,” he said.

  “It means something.”

  He shook his head. “It changes nothing. I wish only to protect you.”

  I crossed my arms. “I will do as I please because I earned that right when I earned the right to choose.” When my wings burned away.

  “I understand.” It was as though his anger seeped out of him.

  “I don’t want to be bossed around by you or Jason.”

  “What does the priest have to do with anything?”

  “Nothing and everything.”

  We stared at each other, frowning.

  “Arún, I earned the right to choose with every single feather that burned out of the gouges in my back.”

  “You are being an unreasonable female.”

  I pointed to the entrance. “Get out.” I marched to the door and yanked it open. I jerked my head toward the hall. And then I marched to the balcony, spun on my heels, and stood with my arms crossed, tapping my foot.

  It was his turn to be surprised, but he stalked across the room. He stopped at the threshold.

  “You may be an unreasonable female, my queen, but you have a point. I apologize.” His face broke in a smile, and he winked. “I’ll be back later.”

  He closed the door behind him, and I went to change out of my bloody dress.

  On the balcony later, the lack of change in light annoyed me. I couldn’t tell how much time had passed. I had been pacing for hours, and my anger had dissipated almost as soon as Arún had closed the door. His apology and his handsome grin didn’t hurt either.

  His parents probably wondered what kind of crazy their son had brought back with him from New Haven City. She hadn’t even been here twenty-four hours, and she had managed to get her throat slit and have a screaming match with the prince and heir-apparent.

  Us. Our differences defined us. How could a fallen angel and a Fae king-to-be build a life
together? I crossed to a low couch, pushed it out to the balcony, and took the seat, snuggling into the cushions.

  When I lifted my head, I still couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but something must have woken me.

  An absent Arún and an empty room meant nothing had changed. After what happened earlier, I didn’t know anyone or where I could go. Getting my throat slit again didn’t sound like a good idea, particularly with Arún missing in action.

  A soft knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. What was Arún playing at?

  I rubbed the cramp in my neck. I hadn’t realized how much I now depended on the change in the slant of the sunlight to govern my day.

  “Coming,” I called. I had slept off the anger. Maybe Arún had, too.

  When I opened the door, I gasped. A willowy female figure stood just outside my door, wrapped in layers of fabric. A veil covered her face, the material of which seemed to be woven out of threads of light, like a spider’s web spun into fine lace. She curtsied.

  I stared at her. Even though I couldn’t see her features, she exuded serenity. The silence soon grew awkward.

  “My name is Ishka.” The lilt in her cultured voice was a melody unlike any I had ever heard before. Perhaps this was her magic.

  “Ish-ka,” I repeated carefully. “I am Woe… of New Haven City.” I couldn’t really say I belonged to the heavenly realms anymore. I returned her curtsy, still uncertain who this lovely Fae was, uncertain of the proper etiquette.

  “May I ask what your name means?” I asked and stepped out of the doorway and motioned for her to come in. Arún should have left me instructions for this.

  She glided across the threshold. “It means Source of Life,” she said and then laughed. But her laugh was without pleasure. “Ironic though it is. My parents did not know of the coming blight when I was born.”

  I pressed my hands over my mouth to stifle another gasp. When the surprise passed, I said, “You’re Arún’s sister.”