Holly
day of travel, we camped at the base of Fire River at the point where it begins its climb up Mount Cúig toward the Lake of Spirits.
I spent another harrowing night sleeping close to the fae by the fire, but at least I had my own bedroll. Strangely, I slept much worse than the night before when I lay in his arms, the beat of his heart as soothing as a potent sleep tonic.
So far, Gade has kept his word and hasn’t touched me without reason during the night, for which I’m both grateful and, if I’m honest with myself, more than a little disappointed.
The men in my village are wary of me, a healer versed in the old ways, and because of this, I fear that I may never experience a man’s most intimate touch. But if I asked Gade, I’m certain he would not hesitate to show me.
This morning, after a quick breakfast of cheese and dried fruit, we packed Wren’s saddlebags and headed up the mountain through a forest of shimmering trees, the pungent smells of pine, damp earth, and decomposing leaves perfuming the air.
As we travel slowly upward, Gade describes the view from the obsidian towers of Talamh Cúig’s castle—the wild ocean, black cliffs, and the distant mountain ranges. Stories follow of the nine sacred hazel trees that the sea witches guard during the city’s seasonal rites and of the wide variety of fae species, the vibrant images making my head spin.
When he asks about my world, I speak about my sister, then my mother and how desperate I am to return home to care for her before she passes. I remind him of our bargain, how he agreed to help me find a portal after I’ve visited his court for seven days and seven nights. I even ask why the duration of my stay is so specific, but he talks around the issue and refuses to elaborate.
After a while, I dismount to take what Gade calls one of my human time-wasting breaks. Contrary to his opinion, I complete the task promptly and head back, cutting through a thick undergrowth of ferns, when I spy him waiting on the path, scowling from his place in the saddle at a flock of rainbow-colored birds that flit around him.
“You had better not be contemplating going back on our bargain,” I call out. “You look extremely devious at the moment.”
“What?” His head swings in my direction, dark hair flying over his shoulder armor. “No. There’s something tracking us.” He thrusts his palm toward me. “Here. Mount quickly.”
As he’s about to pull me up behind him, a rumbling growl comes from the bushes. It turns into a roar as a large wolf leaps at Wren’s head. In a blur of rapid movements, Gade’s knife blade is embedded in the beast’s throat, sticking out between its matted fur.
Gade dismounts, his boots thudding on the ground beside a nightmarish creature—a wolf with a distended, round stomach and two ugly heads with fang-filled snouts jutting from two thick necks. He withdraws his blade from one of the throats and stabs it three times into the beast’s heart.
One, two, three.
Squelch. Squelch. Squelch.
“Just to be certain,” he says, glancing up at me as he wipes his knife on a bank of moss under a pine tree.
“What was that thing? Did you have to dispatch it so violently?”
“It’s an othrius. They are not the most malevolent of creatures dwelling in these woods, but I thought it best not to wait for it to grab you and steal you away. They eat their meals rather slowly, and I didn’t want you to become its next course.”
“That’s a surprise. I thought you’d quite enjoy witnessing my gruesome death,” I say, bending over the corpse and peeling back two sets of lips to inspect the sharp fangs.
Gade’s bright eyes flick to the sky as if he’s asking his favorite deity for patience, and he pushes me toward Wren. “Get back in the saddle, Holly. Don’t tarry. There may be more of them lurking about.”
Oh, so now I’m Holly, am I? He rarely calls me that.
“Of course, Your Royal Highness.” I perform a mocking bow. “Just as you command.”
He flinches as if I’ve struck him, then picks me up and deposits me on Wren’s back without a word, quickly mounting in front of me.
Broad sunbeams push through fluttering leaves and twisting branches as we pick our way beneath soaring firs toward the summit of Mount Cúig.
The plants and vegetation seem to adhere to their own rules here in Faery, all manner of species growing when and where they shouldn’t. In fact, everything is odd, the purple tinge in the sky, the silvery hue of the sun, and especially the grumpy fae I’m nestled against.
Birdsong echoes through the forest, along with Lleu’s haunting calls as he flies high above the treetops, regularly swooping down and landing on Gade’s shoulder to whistle cheerfully and almost take one of my eyes out with his massive hooked beak.
Wren gallops up a steep section of land, and then we burst through the trees into a glittering wonderland. We stop on a flat section of bank that surrounds a rainbow-colored lake, shining as if a magical mirror has been placed across the crater of the mountain. Fir trees dot the landscape, tall sentinels swaying in their uniforms made of every shade of green.
We dismount and Gade points out the other three rivers that trickle magically uphill from the bowl of the lake before flowing down to the east, west, and north. “Shortly, we’ll follow Terra River northward to my home. But for now, you should rest and eat.”
He tosses a parcel of food into the air, which I catch against my chest.
“I must bathe to restore my powers,” he says, then grimaces. “Thanks to the curse in my blood, it won’t do as much good as it should, but may spare you a few of my kisses.”
“In that case, take your time,” I say, heat traveling from my chest to my neck. I turn away, pretending to inspect the view. “And please take care of your wound while you swim.”
Wren nickers and commences eating grass, the sound suspiciously like laughter. If it is, I’m glad we’re amusing him.
Gade grunts, unfastening his belt, and I keep my gaze averted as he undresses quickly. Bracers, weapons, and bits of leather armor and clothing thud against the ground.
“Don’t move from there lest you get eaten by trolls,” he commands, his voice growing distant as I imagine him strolling down the slope toward the lake.
I open an eye in time to see him disappear under the water up to his neck, dark hair floating over the surface. A gust of wind startles me as Lleu lands beside me and taps his beak on my thigh, emitting a shrill noise.
“You’re right, Lleu, I shouldn’t be looking. What do you suggest I do to occupy my time instead of gawking at your master?”
As if he can understand my words, the eagle hops around the grass under Wren’s belly, picking up colorful stones with his beak and depositing them one by one into my palm.
“Why, thank you. These are lovely.” Crossing my legs, I make pretty gemstone patterns over the grass, looking through the bigger, translucent stones at the sky and inspecting the unusual pink and purple clouds streaking the horizon.
I consider a venture into the woods in search of plants to add to my healing pouch, taking Lleu with me for safety. Then I remember the two-headed othrius and decide to obey Gade’s instructions and remain exactly where I am.
Lleu and I are busy sharing chunks of bread when Gade strides up the hill, naked as the day he was born, and making me choke as I twist around to face the forest. At least, I presume faeries are born in the same manner humans are. If not, I hate to think by what method.
A rumbling chuckle sounds behind me, then the rustle of clothes and clang of weapons being affixed to belts and straps as Gade dresses, all the while murmuring to his horse.
I’m a curious person by nature and long to take a peek at his body. But I’d have trouble hiding my awe, and I refuse to increase his already over-inflated ego by drooling like a desperate old maid.
When it sounds like Gade is finished, I risk a glance, surprised to see a wavering overlay of fine golden armor, a barbed circlet, sharper ears, and more extravagantly chiseled features flashing over his traveling-soldier’s garb.
“What’s happening to you?” I ask. “A kind of magic weaves itself over your image.”
The hand tightening his sword belt stills, and he raises a single black brow.
I point at his body. “You look different, as if you’re two different people at the same time and your body can’t decide which one it wishes to remain.”
“It’s nothing to be concerned about. The Lake of Spirits has renewed me, so my power is asserting itself in a corporeal manner, that’s all.”
Lleu suddenly starts hopping from foot to foot, whistling. Picking up the gemstones on the grass one by one, he throws them at Gade, hitting his legs and stomach. Muttering and side-eying the eagle, Gade does his best to ignore him.
“Why is Lleu doing that?” I say.
“Don’t ask,” the fae answers.
“I already did.”
“Stop it, Lleu. You’ve made your thoughts quite clear,” he admonishes.
Lleu makes a piping noise, hops over to me, and snuggles under my arm. I stroke his golden head. “What was he trying to tell you?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t be interested.”
“I’m sure I would be. Tell me—”
“Be quiet.” Gade whirls around, squinting toward the trees. He draws his sword a heartbeat before a flash of blue lights up the bank below us.
“Kiss me, Holly, and do it quickly.” He yanks me into a hard embrace and ravishes my mouth cruelly. “I’m sorry, but danger comes.” Then he pushes me away, an aura of gold light radiating from his body. “Go to the trees. Run. Lleu, go with her.”
Before I can object, a man’s head, crowned by a wild mop of silver hair, appears from thin air, followed by his lanky, translucent body. On his shoulder, sits a black raven with emerald eyes and a long bronze beak from which it emits a horrible caw. The bird, like its master, is as transparent as a phantom and both look exceedingly unfriendly.
The man smiles without warmth or humor. “Gadriel, what a surprise to meet you here.”
Gade’s spine stiffens as he stands tall. “Since you’ve transferred directly into our territory, to our most sacred of places, you must have expected to meet an Elemental, El Sanartha. Although… perhaps not me.”
The newcomer called my companion Gadriel—a more regal name than Gade. Fae must shorten birth names for convenience and to show friendship and affection as humans do.
Gade flicks the sword hilt in his hand, spinning it in warning. “What do you want?”
The stranger stops several feet from us, and my eyes bulge as I inspect him from head to toe.
A crown of spiked, rainbow obsidian sits atop a shock of white hair. Fingers tipped with black claws are braced against his narrow hips, the color matching the row of curved fangs poking between his gray-lipped smirk. Dark green eyes glitter in his pale, pinched face. His expression conveys a touch of madness and a nature cruel and dangerous.
“Come now, is that the proper way to greet me?” the stranger asks, a metallic cape flowing around his slender form.
Gade slides his body in front of me, and I peer around his arms to get a better view of the strange fae. “I address you as you deserve. Murderers forfeit any title of respect.” Gade’s tone is taunting, unafraid, which seems unwise considering the circumstances.
“Perilous words to speak to a king,” says the fae called El Sanartha.
“Can you deny their truth?”
The fae laughs, spreading his upturned palms by his sides. Since he doesn’t refute Gade’s claim, he is very likely the villain in this piece. And if he is indeed a king, he’s most definitely a deranged one.
As their body language grows more hostile, a wall in my mind crumbles, opening space for the idea that something in this scenario doesn’t ring true. The king speaks to Gade in a familiar manner, tinged with a note of uncertainty or fear, and it’s not at all how I’d expect royalty to address a palace guard. How would a foreign king come to know a soldier’s name? Who are they to each other?
Alarm prickles over my skin.
Gade points his sword tip at the ground. “We are both busy, Merit, so let us not waste time. Tell me now what you hope to gain here.” These words, spoken softly but filled with subtle power, startle the king’s gaze from a slow perusal of my body back to Gade.
The king flicks his chin toward me. “Our High Mage sensed the human enter the Tuatha realm. My sole purpose here is to see her for myself. I am pleased to note she is able bodied and suitably attractive. Therefore, I wish to make her my property.”
The ground shakes beneath my feet, thunder rumbling above. “Why?” Gade growls out, raising the jeweled hilt of his sword, fury pulsing from his trembling limbs.
“We Merits believe humans have much to teach us. As a species, they embrace change and their toil over new inventions is both admirable and fascinating. We wish to learn from them. What will you accept in exchange for her?”
“Let me see…” Gade pretends to think, then snarls like a wolf. “First, your snow-white head displayed on Castle Black’s tallest spire. And second, nothing. Nothing and no one could take her from me. If you don’t believe me, draw your sword and let me prove it.”
The king smiles. “I am glad to hear your much-touted sense of humor has not completely deserted you, even as the famed poison progresses through your blood.”
“And if you believe I would bargain with the fae responsible for the death of my parents, you’re clearly as mad as the tales my courtiers tell about you.”
The king shrugs. “Every single item in all the realms has its price. What is yours for the girl?”
“The life of every Merit and the return of my parents’ souls as your punishment for asking, and still, I wouldn’t give her up.”
“Then it is a pity I cannot comply and test your high and mighty resolve.”
“I repeat: if you gave me every jewel or power in existence, I still wouldn’t let you have her. Never, do you hear me? The mortal is mine.”
“Perhaps. Unless I kill you now.”
“Impossible. You stand at the Elemental seat of power where your magic lies dormant. Somehow, you’ve transferred here, but not in a solid state. Do you not realize I can see straight through you?”
The king’s body flickers, one moment flesh and bone and the next, as incorporeal as a spirit’s.
“True, Gadriel, but my senses tell me you’re injured, not fully recovered, and unable to access your power. My sword is as solid as yours, and my skill with it is not to be underestimated, even in this state.”
“Nor is mine.” Gade lifts his blade, then without turning, whispers. “Take Wren. Follow Lleu into the trees. If I fall, ride north until you can go no farther. Do not disobey me.”
Lleu screeches and takes flight, and I watch where he lands.
My fingers dig into the bracer on Gade’s forearm. “Wait. Should I…?”
“What? Speak quickly.”
“Kiss you to enhance your—”
“No time.” He shoves me away and slashes the blade in front of his chest in a cross pattern, then looks back at me briefly. “For Dana’s sake, Holly, go!”
“Oedgar, my dear, you may watch my victory from the trees,” El Sanartha says.
It takes me a moment to realize he’s speaking to the bird whose black wings give a metallic creak as it flies away.
Without warning, the Merit roars and takes off at a run toward Gade, his body flickering and solidifying. Cursing, I grip Wren’s reins and make a dash for the line of trees, running alongside the horse as fast as I can. By the time I hide behind a tree trunk and peer around it, the Merit fae is far too occupied to care where I am.
Gade’s hand grapples around his neck as if he’s searching for something, possibly the horn he wears on a leather strap, which seems to have disappeared. Grimacing, he raises his face to the sky and bellows, “Mern!” like a battle cry, and a bolt of lightning strikes the ground behind the king.
I look around to see if Gade’s sister will answer the cry and magically appear from the ether as the white fae did, but unfortunately, that doesn’t happen.
A sharp zing of steel on steel rings through the air as the fae slash back and forth, crushing wildflowers beneath their boots like heroes in the traveling pantomime shows I loved as a child. But this is no choreographed performance—far from it.
The scent of blood tainting the breeze is real, telling me that flesh has been opened, hopefully not Gade’s. I don’t trust him, but I’m certain that out of my two possible captors, he is the safer option.
Gade fights well, so much better than should be possible, considering his still-healing wound. Magic flows through the Elemental guard’s limbs in visible flashes of silver hoops that circle his body, quickening his movements. Lightning bands his arms, granting them strength and power. He grins as the Merit curses, likely proving a more formidable opponent than the king had hoped.
Two blades come together again, one black one silver, both sliding to their hilts. With a grunt, Gade pushes away, spins and feints a mid-chest cross cut, instead slicing low along the gap between one of the king’s thigh-high boots and the edge of his armor. Blood gushes from the wound, proving the Merit is a flesh and blood creature after all and not a phantom.
El Sanartha’s voice rings out across the grassy bank. “Give me the girl,” he demands, “and I vow I’ll leave your court in peace for the remainder of your lifetime—however long that shall be, Gadriel Lake Eyes.”
Lake eyes? Is that some kind of fae slur?
Gade growls. “You’ll have to end me first.”
El Sanartha bows. “So be it. I shall do my best.”
“If you harm a hair on her head, I’ll hunt you until the end of time.”
“When, not if I harm her…” El Sanartha pants. “You will already be dead.”
“Then I’ll haunt your nightmares until your body’s last breath and rattle your bones forevermore. Touch her and rue the day you first looked upon her lovely amber eyes.”
“Lovely, you say?” says the king, renewing his attack. “Who…” Lunge. Stab. “Owns…” Slash. Smash. “Who?”
Gade roars, then in frantic paces, the fae range back and forth—toward the bank, then closer to the trees I’m hiding behind—grunting and panting in a blur of powerful limbs and flashing metal.
Pine needles lift and whirl around their legs, the fresh scent mingling with the bitter tang of blood. Even in their weakened states, both fighters are ruthless, savage, and I can only imagine how vastly more terrifying this battle would be if both males were at their full power.
They turn widdershins in an ever-narrowing circle of violence. The king stumbles, tearing his claws across Gade’s face. Gade’s sword slashes back with renewed vigor, curses spitting from his lips. He thrusts, feints, making his opponent stumble again, then spins with his sword raised high, using the force of his momentum to strike hard from above.
The Merit blocks the strike, but his black blade cleaves in half, and still he slashes with the jagged metal left jutting from the hilt gripped in his claws. With his broken blade, victory is impossible. Gade will triumph. He has to.
Gade redoubles his attack, slashing mercilessly and driving El Sanartha back toward the forest until his spine slams against the trunk of a tree. The tip of Gade’s blade pierces the Merit’s throat as he flails like a stuck insect, a dark ribbon of blood trailing his pale skin. Gade’s gusting breath blows the Merit’s white hair from his face.
But why doesn’t he move to kill him?
I grit my teeth against the horror of the words I’m about to speak, but say them anyway. “Finish it.”
End it now, before the roles reverse, and the fae I have no bargain with kills Gade and carries me to a land where they buy humans to study and experiment on. If this Merit wins, my instincts tell me my life will be that of an abused pet locked in a cage. Perhaps forever.
The raven called Oedgar swoops down, pecking at my scalp and then my cheek before flying toward the king. Squawking, Lleu chases after it, keeping it away from Gade.
“Gade, finish it,” I shout, something telling me that the Merit won’t stop until Gade and his people are destroyed.
Gade looks back over his shoulder at me, staring long enough for the Merit king and his horrible bird to disappear, leaving nothing but swirls of dark smoke in their place and a stench of burning hair in my nostrils.
