Lara
When I return to the mage’s house the following day, I find the front door swinging open and Ether nowhere to be seen. I slink through the eerily silent chambers and emerge into the lush-green woods without incident.
High noon in the Emerald forest, and all seems well.
Feeling more confident today, I move quickly through the dappled shadows, glimpsing odd shimmers of light at the corner of my eye that disappear as soon as I turn my head. The forest critters are watching.
This time when I reach the red willow, I find twice as many moss elves waiting patiently next to yesterday’s empty basket, whispering in soft voices and gesturing to hear the lullaby again before they transport food away.
I take a seat on my favorite log and sing the twisted cradle song some of them already know, then begin a rousing tune about headstrong horses with flashing eyes and flying manes.
As I sing, a few of the moss children dare to come close and sit at my feet, their staring golden eyes far too big for their adorable pale-green faces.
After two more songs, I promise to return with more food as soon as I can.
Placing palms to their chests, they bow and smile brightly, murmuring amongst themselves. Magret says the elves don’t often choose to speak our language, even though they can. I hope they’ll speak to me one day soon, even if I can’t understand them.
When I stand to collect the empty basket and bid them farewell, a young boy brings forward a tiny wood carving and places it on my palm. It’s a beautifully detailed dragonfly threaded on a metal pin so it can be worn as a brooch. I immediately fix it to my tunic.
How could the moss elves possibly know I’m into dragonflies? I love them so much I even have one tattooed on my shoulder blade.
As I hike through the forest on my return to the gardens, I hum a lilting tune. The sun is shining. Birds chirp and swoop playfully above. The light breeze is warm. And I’m fast falling in love with the seductive forest and the gentle elves who live in it.
Having a useful purpose not only lifts my spirits but also takes my mind off my predicament—being held captive, not knowing if I’ll make it home or die here in this strange and dangerous land. Even the mysteries of what became of the king and Ever’s older brother, Rain, don’t bother me right now.
Given my circumstances, I should be a depressed wreck, but like the arrival of a new spring, the warm air makes me cautiously optimistic.
When I’m nearly halfway back to the mage’s house, a horrible prehistoric screech grates the air. It’s similar to the one in Ithalah Forest that made Ever pause and listen, worry etched deep on his face. Whoever or whatever that sound came from, I don’t want to meet it face to face. They’ve completely destroyed my happy, peaceful mood. Lesson learned. Good things don’t last long in Faery.
As another terrible shriek scrapes my ears, I peer into the sky and find two draygonets, looking exactly as Raff described them, circling above the trees.
Shit. Do I run? Nope, Raff said they love to chase. The only option is to hide.
In the three seconds I take to decide which direction to flee in, branches and leaves shudder, then with a hard thump, a draygonet lands a few yards away on the side of the path leading back to the red willow. At least it’s not blocking the way to the castle. That’s something, I guess.
A disgustingly long forked tongue flicks out as the beast cocks its head and sniffs the air. No doubt it’s wondering how hard I’ll fight, and if I’m worth the effort. Decision made, scaly shoulders set low as it prepares to pounce, and my knees turn to jelly.
“You shouldn’t be here you glutton,” I mutter, and a low growl answers from above.
I glance up. Another one perches on a thick branch above its buddy. Great. Better make that two gluttons, then.
Fear taking control of my limbs, my feet shuffle backward, and the draygonet on the path prowls forward, snarling and flashing needle-sharp fangs.
I wish I had a knife or a bow—neither of which I’m adept at using. Or fire. That would work! I wish I had matches and a branch wrapped in flammable cloth, and being desperate, I even wish Ever were here to kill the damn things for me.
Just as I’m about to lie down and let them have me, I remember what Raff said about noise, how it can drive them away, and I throw my arms out and yell. “Go on! Get out of here, you filthy scavengers!”
Yellow eyes narrowing, the creature creeps forward, gray wings unfurling as it communicates with its friend in a series of rumbling groans. They’re most likely deciding who gets the juiciest parts of me now, so there’s no squabbling once the carnage begins.
“Yah! Yaahh!” I yell.
The draygonet’s head shakes as it roars and keeps coming. And, oh, the stench of the thing is awful.
Well, I’d say I’m dead and done for now. My tale is told. The end is nigh.
I was sure I was going to die by Merrin River when I first saw the huntsman hovering over me and, somehow, I survived. But I can’t see a way out of this situation, and that makes me angry, wildly furious, mostly at Ever for bringing me here in the first place.
Not one to swallow down rage, my fists clench and I throw out my arms, releasing the loudest, longest scream I’ve ever made.
The creature stops stalking.
Okay. This is good.
I keep screaming.
Startled, its head cants back, and I get a good look at the blank, yellow eyes. They’re dull, vacant, stupid-looking. The sign of a creature perhaps easily fooled.
Turning my scream into a death-metal song, I leap around, slashing my arms through the air like a scythe-wielding sorceress. At best, I look like a raving lunatic. Ridiculous. But if I’m going to die, I may as well go down fighting. Unfortunately, my voice is my only weapon.
I stomp. I stamp. I whirl and swirl. Grit grates my throat, my shrieks and howls powering through the pain.
Branches crack and wings flap as the draygonet in the tree departs without even a snarl in my direction. The big coward.
I keep singing and whirling, screaming out crazy lyrics.
I’m a banshee. I’m a draygonet’s worst nightmare.
At least I hope I am.
The one shuffling backward on the path, black talons raking the dirt, seems to have decided I’m a problem because he snorts, growls, then stretches his wings and launches into the air.
“Yes!” I shake my fist at it. “Yes! Yes! Go home you scaly, spineless baby-eating creeps.”
I run three wild victory laps around an old oak tree, scattering birds from its branches, and then drop to the ground and hug my knees to my chest. I’ve ripped my tunic. I’m a mess. But I’m alive. I can hardly believe it.
Tears flow. I allow myself a good minute to sob loudly, then get off my butt and drag myself back to Ether’s house.
When I knock on the back door, she opens it immediately, ushering me inside with a gruesome smile.
“Welcome, Lara, you look as though you’ve had quite an adventure.”
“And you look as silvery and ethereal as usual.” I gulp, wishing I could keep my smart mouth shut. “I met two draygonets on the path.” I follow her down a short hallway into a stark sitting room.
With a waft of her hand, she indicates a high-backed chair with ivy threaded through its carved-wood frame. “Sit.”
“I can’t. I really must get back to the—”
“Sit.”
With a sigh, I flop onto a silky white cushion and try not to look annoyed. She settles opposite in a matching chair, the only other piece of furniture in the room besides a tiny glass table standing between us.
The position of our chairs, the way she’s studying me, this feels like an interrogation.
Just like the antechamber, everything in the room is white, the walls stenciled with silver and gold patterns, symbols of earth, water, air, and fire. But instead of a stained-glass roof, the ceiling here contains no plaster or glass and is completely open to the cloudless blue sky. Vines spill down the walls; who knows where they grow from. On the walls behind Ether and I, enormous floor-to-ceiling mirrors hang, reflecting our seated images into infinity.
A glass plate piled high with cookies and pink rose petals sits in the center of the table. My stomach groans.
Ether says, “These are delicious lavender shortbreads. I’ll admit once you start eating them, it is very difficult to stop. You must be hungry. Please take as many as you wish; the plate will replenish forever and a day.”
Yeah. No. I don’t like the sound of that. Death by overindulging? No thanks.
Her black eyes gleam as I lie, “That’s nice of you to offer, but my encounter with the draygonets kind of ruined my appetite.”
“Very well,” she says, lips stretching into a creepy smile. “How did you manage to outrun them?”
“I didn’t. I remembered what Raff said, that they don’t like noise, so I screamed and danced and sang fearsome songs to them until they flew away.”
A silver eyebrow arches. “You sang to them?”
“I did.” I can’t quite hide my pleased smile.
“I believe you are not as helpless as Aer would wish.”
“Your sister, Aer? What’s she got to do with anything?”
“Lara, I will tell you the story you wish to hear most if you will give me something in return.”
Oh, no. Not another faery bargain.
“I promise I will not ask as much of you as Aer asked of your mother.”
“What? My mother… what do you mean—”
“Hush now, child. Do you want the story or not?”
“Yes, of course I do. But, first, tell me the price for it.”
She grips the armrest and perches on the edge of her seat. “All you need do is honor your bargain with the prince and give the word that is asked of you to the person who requests it.”
Outrage flashes hot in my chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t made a bargain with Ever about giving someone a word.”
“Indeed, you haven’t yet. But soon, you will enter into this bargain and enter it by your own choosing. All I ask is that you honor it.”
“Fine.” I take a big breath and make my vow, words coming out so fast they trip over each other. “I promise I will give the word that is asked of me to the person who requests it as long as I’m only honoring a bargain I’ve already entered into under my own free will. No force. No magic. No faery or other being’s coercion to make me agree to the bargain in the first place. Will that ridiculous mouthful suffice?”
“Perfect. Now I will fulfill my part. As you already suspected, your mother, Ella, spent time at this court.”
My heart rises into my throat.
“How did she get here? How long was she—”
“You bargained to hear a story. You did not request the ability to ask questions.”
I’m an idiot. To bargain means to negotiate, not just agree to the first stupid thing that’s offered to you.
I return her cold smile, and say, “Of course. Please continue your tale.”
“Your mother was here a full season, back when the king was still alive. It was spring, and his three sons were young and strong.”
“What happened to the king and his oldest son, Rain?” I can’t help but ask.
With a stern look, she wags a finger at me, then continues. “Queen Varenus and King Flavian were extremely happy, for he had beaten the curse of the Black Blood princes and married not his chosen one, but the girl he loved with all his poisoned heart. It was love that kept him living years after the blackness began circling in his veins but love alone could not hold it at bay forever, and eventually the curse won. And now the whole of Faery knows without a doubt—the Black Blood heir must take to wife his chosen one—or die.”
“But who decides who this chosen one will be?”
“It is Aer’s curse and Aer’s choice.”
Aer. The first bachelorette I met, the one wearing a bride’s veil, long golden locks, and a cunning look in her eyes.
“She aims to make things as difficult as possible for the princes and chooses unlikely candidates, ones she thinks they will never love. But, by the laws of Five, there must be willingness from the bride-to-be or a family agreement in place. That is the difficult part for Aer when she chooses the girls, finding someone willing.”
“Well, your sister sounds delightful. You ladies must have some fun dinner parties laughing about all the princes you’ve ruined.”
“I wish to help the princes,” Ether snaps.
“Okay. That’s great. But, please, how did my mother manage to get out of this place?”
“The Merits took great interest in her technological device. They stole it and were preparing to steal her, too. The queen knew they would use her to advance their dark magic, so she sent her home before they could act. I opened a portal and your mother passed through. It was quite simple really.”
“So, you could open one now and send me home?”
“I could, but I will not. Your part here is not yet played out, Lara. Your mother promised she would give two things that came from her own mother to our kings should they want them. And want them they will. One of our kind is already consumed by a hunger he cannot yet begin to comprehend. Ella was foolish enough to believe the price she agreed on for safe passage would never be paid because she would be safe and far away from our land.”
“What would fae kings want from a human anyway?”
“Why is a cat so enthralled by a rodent?”
“Because it wants to eat it.”
Her laugh is the sound of glass breaking, and I grit my teeth and crunch on the shards.
“True. But if hunger were the only reason, then the kill would be quick, would it not? The cat enjoys the sport, the hunt, and playing with a creature who looks and moves so very differently from itself. The mouse’s life is therefore extended because the hunter values the entertainment. And, so it follows that you cannot leave our kingdom yet because you are still useful to our court.”
How will I be of use? I’m not some badass warrior the current queen or the next king can enlist to fight against evil mage sisters or whatever. She must think I’ll make a nice rat for the fae princes to toy with forever.
She stands and beckons me onto my feet. “You must leave here now before my sisters arrive. Aer wants you in our land with as much vigor as she wants you gone from it. She desires to end him—her favorite Black Blood prince—just as much as she wishes to be you, Lara, and keep him forever.”
“Ether, please stop talking in riddles. I have no idea what any of it means. I’m so confused.”
“My sister mirrors your state, but for a different reason. It is confusing to love something as much as you hate it, a terrible curse to bear, in fact, and one of her own making.”
White palms are offered, and without thinking, I lay mine in them. Her grip tightens uncomfortably as her eyes roll back in her head. The ground rolls beneath my feet. Fire burns my vision. My blood turns to ice water, and wind wraps me in a tight caress.
“I see and hear you clearly.” Her voice ricochets off the walls. “You have a gift. And you must remember that here in Faery, music is magic, so wield your power wisely. And do not give in to fear, for the wind will take your troubles away.”
And with those cryptic comments, she pushes me out the door into the street.
I rub my arms and shiver. The afternoon has turned overcast, the dull pewter light darkening the stone walls of the city.
Shaken by the maelstrom of thoughts spinning in my mind—Mom, what she might have promised Aer, the curse, what kind of role I might have to play at the Court of Five—I decide I need to blow off some steam before I return to Magret. Calm down a little.
I walk briskly in the direction of the meadow Raff and I relaxed in yesterday, and as I travel through the town and amble past the garden walls, creatures stare but no one speaks or attempts to stop me. Not even the guards react when I stride through the meadow’s wildflowers and keep going until I reach the edge of the trees.
I wonder what creatures live on this side of the unexplored forest?
As I enter the shelter of alders and beeches, the pound of hoofbeats drums the ground, its rhythm reminding me of a song I can’t recall the name of. It distracts me from noticing how dim the light is growing until it’s too late, and I see a black horse galloping through the meadow, a blond rider leaning low over its neck.
Ever has returned.
Within seconds, Jinn slides to a stop in front of me, puffing and snorting while his rider wheels him around me in a tight circle.
“Stop,” I yell. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“If I was, I assure you there are infinitely slower and more satisfying ways than letting Jinn trample you to death.”
Gold hair streaming around his shoulders, he’s dressed like a warrior, his breastplate covered in buckles and straps. One shoulder is clad in copper-colored armor that runs down his biceps in layered panels, the other arm wrapped only in hard muscles and golden skin, his legs clad in leather breeches.
He’s dust-covered and furious but appears uninjured, and I note with a secret smirk that no bride is cowering in his arms or strapped to Jinn’s saddle. No wonder he’s mad if he’s returning from another failed hunt without his queen.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he thunders, pulling Jinn up hard.
Anger vibrates inside me, threatening to explode out in a childish scream. I’m well aware I should be winning him over, sweetening up the prince who holds my future in the palm of his calloused hand. But his voice, the arrogance of his bearing, his haughty expression—they won’t allow me to be nice to him.
“I’m taking a relaxing stroll before returning to work,” I say, a challenge in my tone.
“And do your strolls normally involve rolling in the mud? You look like a common ballybog.”
I have no idea what that is, something gross, no doubt. “If I have been playing in the dirt, that’s entirely my business.”
“I have only just arrived home. On my way to the Great Hall, Jinn nearly bowled over our High Mage lurking on the streets. She spun a tale that I found difficult to believe, a story of your venture into the forest. Alone.”
Remaining silent, I hold his grim gaze.
“You were attacked by draygonets,” he booms.
I see no point in denying it. “What of it?” If he knows about the moss elves too, it’s best to pretend I’m not concerned about the consequences of being caught. Maybe he’ll throw me outside the city gates, and I’ll be left to stumble around in search of a portal while trying not to get eaten by horrible fae beasts.
The sky shudders, blanketing us in total darkness for three full seconds. My hands twist the fabric of my tunic.
“Why would you leave the gardens when you are forbidden to wander? Perhaps you think yourself a guest here, welcome to explore our kingdom as you see fit. Well, you are not a guest. Far from it. You exist in our lands under my sufferance. Your very life hangs by the gossamer thread of my forbearance. Wear that out to snapping and see what happens to you, reckless human.”
“Maybe I just wish you’d hurry up and get it over with, nasty Prince of Never. You’re not my lord, or my king, or my anything. And you never ever will be.” I cringe at how immature I sound. His mere presence brings out my inner child—the impulsive, rebellious one.
Smoke practically billows out his nostrils as he whirls his stallion to face the castle. “Do not think to test my patience, human. I promise you will not enjoy the outcome.”
Even though I know it’s foolish to taunt him, I spread my stance and cross my arms. “So, now you’re back, are you and the queen getting ready to murder me and put me out of my misery?”
“Not as yet,” he says as an unruly wind swirls around me. Jinn rears high, forelegs pawing the air. Remaining perfectly balanced, Ever pulls him around in a neat circle.
“We have something far worse planned for you. In three days, you will serve at a banquet feast with the Merits in attendance. After all, you are already trained in the fine art of waiting upon others. If the Merits are pleased with you, we may even allow them to take you home.”
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? I know you can’t wait to be rid of me.”
He doesn’t confirm or deny my accusation, only sneers at the mud-streaked skin exposed through a rip in my tunic as though I’m the world’s most disgusting slob. Pardon me for not being wonderful to gaze upon. What does he expect a garden slave to look like?
“Yah!” he yells, the jerking motion of his body springing Jinn into action and frightening the bejesus out of me.
Dust clouds spin as the horse speeds Ever away, no doubt to some lush boudoir fit for a cruel prince to kill time in before his next important bride-search expedition. Bride Search Expedition. It sounds like a reality TV show—one I wouldn’t watch if he was starring in it.
Anyway, good riddance to domineering jerks.
I hope he enjoys himself.
Actually, I hope he chokes on mulberry wine.
