Hearts of Clay and Tempest, page 8
“Cousin.,” I try to keep my tone casual., “It’s a bit early to still be awake. How are you?”
He ignores my question., “Your father is asking for you. In his rooms.”
Of course, my father won’t wait until morning. I should have expected another useless conversation. I nod silently, stepping away. My father’s apartments are at the opposite side of the Court, a long walk away from where I left the human girl.
The walk through the dark hallways gives me time to think of an excuse. I can tell my father that the leprechauns asked me to find the girl or that the Queen insisted I check on her. I walk swiftly down the winding stairs, passing the throne room, before taking the long hallway to my father’s room. His men are stationed throughout, silhouetted in the flickering torchlight. They don’t bother greeting me.
The hall is disturbing enough in the daylight, but at night, it is chilling. Skulls, spoils of war, hang along the stone walls. My father enjoys getting a touch drunk, then stumbling into the hallway long after dark to boast about the kills. I’m not sure how many stories are correct if he has actually fought in a dozen wars. Or if he has simply murdered tenants late on their rent and mounted their skulls outside his office.
When I was fifteen, my father doubled the rent, insisting that a half-century of good rain and sunshine meant that the tenants living on our land could afford to share more of their harvest. The goblins refused, insisting on calling a meeting with my father to negotiate his demands. My father dragged me along, but he never planned on negotiating. As soon as the goblins arrived, my father ordered me to attack. The goblins were hardly armed, unprepared for my father’s fierce anger. I didn’t train to kill goblins, and I’d spent years learning sword drills and spells to join the Queensguard. I slammed my sword around, trying just to scare the goblins. My father roared at me, pulling out his sword. I’d been whacked in the head too many times by that blade. Seeing him raise its hilt, I could nearly feel the slam of metal against my skull. I jumped forward, stabbing a goblin in the stomach. The goblin squealed, doubling over on top of the sword. I nearly fell forward, blood pooling around my sword, my hand wrapped around the hilt with the metal trapped inside this goblin’s body. My father stomped over, swiftly arching his own sword through the air, slicing the metal through the goblin’s neck. Blood sprayed, splashing my face with hot liquid. My father reached down, picking the goblin’s head by the horns. He threw the skull at me. I presume he wanted me to hang it in the barracks. I stuffed it under my bed.
My father never visits the barracks. They’re probably too far out of his way, and he’d have to leave his perch overlooking the entire Court. If he saw my room, he might be offended at my choice of décor.
I’ve only ever hung one item on the wall, the sword my mother gave me when I could barely walk. Now that I’m grown, the blade is more a knife in my hands than an actual weapon. I suppose I could still use my mother’s gift, but I’d rather keep it on my wall.
I hear my father’s voice before I even reach his door. Light spills out from under the wood door, and I wince. He’s shouting, the sound echoing around the room, “Of course you knew what he was doing. Unless you also want me to believe you’re a complete idiot.” I shove the door open, taking in the sight. My father is standing in the center of the room, towering over Flavian. Flavian kneels on the floor, head bent over.
“I ordered Flavian to return.,” I don’t wait for my father to look at me., “He was obeying my commands.”
My father turns in my direction., “The girl was under my watch. My men had her.”
“We needed her to retain her sanity,” I refuse to raise my voice., “Your creatures would have driven her mad.”
His hands clench at his sides, eyes narrowing as he fumes., “You had no right. What were you even doing out of the Court?” Flavian looks at me now, moving for the first time since I came in and turning just enough to look at me. His eyes are a touch wide, and I can nearly read his thoughts. Surprise that my father didn’t know.
My shoulders are tight., “I was under orders.”
“What kind of answer is that?” My father snaps, taking a step., “I should finish what the Finn started and knock more sense into your skull.” His comment makes me wince, his tone straight from my nightmares. He snarls again, “You are under my orders. I am your commander. I gave no such command for you to leave.”
“The Queen,” I answer quietly, though my words feel useless against his anger., “She gave me instructions. Keep the leprechauns from fighting.”
His eyes flash, he turns towards Flavian., “You broke up the leprechaun’s fight?” Flavian nods. “Ridiculous,” My father grumbles., “You should have let the creatures devour each other.” “Her majesty’s orders,’ I start, but he interrupts.
“We serve the country, not the queen,” his breathing is heavier, and he glares at me, “I didn’t raise you to chase squabbling leprechauns. Our family has worked all our lives for this position. Oona may have lost her senses, but we won’t.”
I worked my entire life to fight with the Queensguard. Yet every time I follow through with the
Queen’s order, I’m met with my father’s anger. I can almost quote his lectures about our family and his dedication to the Fae Court. He rants a few more minutes, throwing in his favorite lines about loyalty and all the sacrifices he made for me. Finally, he waves a hand, dismissing us., “Go find the Prince. We’ll discuss this another day.” He stomps farther into the room, slamming the door to his bedroom behind him. Flavian slumps forward, his eyes bloodshot., “Why did you do that?” “Do what?” I blink at him, too tired to guess at what he means.
He pulls himself to his feet, lifting his chin., “He’s your Father. You might be able to live with his ranting, but that man commands the army. He decides what happens at Court.” I don’t answer, and he runs a hand through his shoulder-length hair., “Did you grab the girl on purpose, just to annoy him?”
“It was what was right,” I stammer, taken aback by his question. Flavian rarely asks me questions, “The creatures were hurting the girl.”
“The girl hurt Edric,” He hisses, bangs falling into his eyes, “Whatever she did, he’s now gone. Let the creatures devour her.”
“Flavian.,” I reach for him, but he brushes past me. “We don’t know that the human girl had anything to do with Edric.” “He disappeared, and then she appears. Humans haven’t just shown up in a hundred years. Don’t tell me the girl isn’t involved.” He shrugs me off, stepping towards the door. I follow him into the hall, knowing that he’s going to believe whatever he wants about the girl. I speak to his back., “I don’t know how long the girl will be here. But you should avoid her.” I clear my throat before speaking to his back.,
“Seeing her will only upset you. I want you to stay away from her.”
He snorts, looking back at me, lips twitching slightly., “I’m surprised your father hasn’t already told you. He assigned me as her escort.” I’m left gaping at him, trying to figure out what he’s saying. There’s an edge to his voice as he avoids my eyes, “He said that since you’re so concerned for her, I could be your watchdog.”
He turns, stomping away, boots echoing. I run a hand over my forehead, craving my bed. I can’t think through everything that’s happened. Not without sleep. And Flavian will be watching the girl in the morning, and I need to be around. Knowing the edge to his voice tonight, he’ll be an absolute beast tomorrow.
Darcy
I blink awake the next day; at least, I think it’s the next day. My hands reach for anything, and I touch the softest bed I’ve ever imagined. I lean my head back on the pillow, breathing a sigh. “Morning,” a cheery voice interrupts, as someone draws the heave drapes around the bed open, light blinking in my eyes. I rub at my face, pulling myself up. That’s when I catch my first sight of her. A small Fae woman. She looks more like a dream, and I glance down at my arm, pushing up the soft white cloth and pressing my nails harshly into my arm. A pinch of pain, just to make sure I’m not dreaming.
My skin reddens, and I look back up at the floating Fairy. Sparkling wings beat as she darts about the room, a cloud of golden dust billowing around her. Her skin is dark, the color of night. She looks at me, her eyes wide, a brilliant violet color.
“Where am I?” I blurt the question, pushing the blankets from my skin. Cold air meets my bare legs, goosebumps rising on the back of my neck. I’m definitely awake.
“Oh, sweet human,” the fairy chirps, “you’re in the Court of the Fae.”
The Court of the Fae. I’m not sure the leprechauns called it that, but the name rings familiar. My mind flips through the legends I’ve heard, putting together remnants of the Fae Courts’ stories. I must be in the Seelie Court. Even though I can’t remember everything Isolt might have said, I think I wouldn’t be alive if I were in the Unseelie Court. The courts supposedly dissolved long ago into one Fae Court led by the Queen, but the Unseelie went into hiding, feuding with Faes and humans. I probably remember something wrong, mixing up the names of the feuding Fae factions.
Hopefully, I’ve remembered enough to stay alive and get the gold for Anya and me.
I rub my eyes again, then glance at the nightstand. The knife with its golden hilt, it’s sitting there. I reach for it, touching my fingertips to the gold medal. Next to the blade sits the pouch of salt. I look at my palms, but my skin isn’t scrapped. I twist my fingers together, uncomfortable and not sure if I want to know what Fae magic can do. My knuckles were bloodied and bruised last night, and now they’re smooth.
The Fae did something to me while I was sleeping.
“Did the leprechauns,” I whisper, hoping Hoyt wasn’t hurt in the fight last night. He was gruff, but he brought me to his home. His friends were fighting for me. He gave me my only source of protection. Well, actually, Hoyt gave me two gifts, both the salt and the dagger.
“Brendan and General Riordan have taken care of Fagan,” the Fairy replies instantly., “Now, we need to get you bathed. Ready for your audience with Her Majesty.”
An audience with the Fae Queen. My hands are already trembling. The Fairy doesn’t seem to notice. She sweeps in beside me, urging me to my feet. I look away from her beating wings; they’re going to make me sick. They move so quickly, so fast., hovering in mid-air beside me. Then she’s clicking her tongue, “Such beautiful hair,” she touches my greasy hair. It’s come undone from my usual braid, falling in loose curls down my back.
I look at her hair, blue curls gathered into a braided crown. My eyes catch on the golden lettering swirling down her neck, and etchings stamped into her skin. Light gossamer clings to her skin before falling into a layered skirt around her waist. I’ve never seen anything like it, but I want to laugh the moment I think that.
Have I seen anything I’m familiar with this past day? There are truly leprechauns, floating fairies, winged warriors living in this place, living underneath our very feet. Under the mounds and hills, I’ve walked past my whole life. If Anya were here, she wouldn’t be puzzling over the strangeness. Anya would be talking to this winged Fairy, asking her about her life and name if she enjoys helping lost humans. Anya would know what to say.
Anya should have found the leprechaun. Instead, I’m the one pushed into a tub, the Fairy pouring hot water on top of me. I hold back a yelp, wrapping my arms around my bare skin. The Fairy runs her small hands through my hair, pulling at the mess of tangles. She sings while she works, her voice light and clear. The song sounds familiar, like something Isolt might have sung back home. But the Fairy is singing in her language, and I’ve no idea what she’s saying.
After the Fairy decides I’m free of dirt, she urges me out of the bathtub, draping me in a soft bundle of towels. I take the hairbrush she offers, running it through my dripping hair.
I’m still working on my hair when the Fairy holds out a dress. I take it from her, slipping the smooth fabric over my head. It falls in waves around me, a waterfall of green and gold thread. The Fairy pulls at the waist, cinching it tightly. My hair is still dripping. The fairy hums, her wings are beating as she touches my head. “Here, my dear, don’t be alarmed.” I don’t know what she means, but then she blows on my hair, murmuring Fae words. I feel the warm air wrap around my hair, the water drying instantly. I yank away, my heart jumping.
“You,” I’m sputtering, but I don’t have the words to say. She just used magic on me, without my permission, without asking. I’m trembling. The Fairy doesn’t seem to notice, dancing over to the bedside table. She darts back, holding out the holster and dagger. I push past my unease, taking the weapon. It easily slips around my waist, and I silently thank Hoyt. At least I know it works.
I pinch myself, trying not to stare at this dress. Gold stitching lines the bodice, pulling in at the waist.
The collar is low cut, and I touch my chest, flushing. I’ve never worn anything like this, and I can’t even think of a word to describe it.
My hair lies in curls down my back, and a single green ribbon is woven into a loose braid. The dress is cut open in the back, but my hair covers my bare skin.
Then the Fairy hands me my pouch. I release a sigh of relief, rolling my fingers around the leather. I take a peek at the salt, where it sits safe and dry in the leather. I tuck the pouch into my bodice again, tying it to the elegant gold strings lacing the dress’s front.
The Fairy flutters away from me, beckoning me to follow. I lift my skirts, jogging slightly behind her. I suppose if you fly, you never really realize how must faster you are. But then, most of the Fae I’ve met so far don’t seem to realize how pitifully human I am. How much slower I simply am.
The hallways are dim, the floor embedded with polished dark wood. I glance at the portraits hanging on the wall, my eyes widening—swirls of glittering colors, hues of sparkling blue and golden green accented by crimson shadows. I crane my neck, but the tops of the painting slip into the dark arches of the hallway. I can’t even see the entire picture, though I study it for several moments.
The Fairy pauses, waiting for me to catch up. “Do you like the art?” the fairy talks as I come next to her. She hovers next to me, and I look away from her ever-beating wings. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The Fairy’s face falls, her lips pinching into a frown., “How dull the world must be now. I remember when humans and fairies painted together.” she lets out a wistful sigh. “Those were glorious days.”
She darts ahead, and I hurry to follow, catching up as she stops at the door. A Fae male stands there, his body rigid. “Gwen.” He nods at the Fairy, and I flush, my bare neck reddening as I realize I forgot to ask her name. I wondered how Anya would chat with her and somehow, still didn’t ask the right question. The Fae turned to me, and compared to the blue-haired Gwen, I now feel incredibly small. He towers over me, his blonde hair tied back into a long ponytail.
A sword hangs at his side, black leather boots rising to his knees.
“I’m here to take you to the Queen.” He’s not asking. I nod at Gwen, “Thank you for your help.” I touch the knife at my waist, “You’ve been very kind.”
Gwen laughs, the sound echoing in the empty hall. The guard glares at her, his dark brown eyes narrowing, “Pixies think everything is funny.
She titters before zipping away. I watch her wings fluttering, the shimmering golden dust trailing behind her. I’d much rather the cheerful pixie take me to the Queen, instead of this glowering Fae male.
“Come along,” The Fae growls., “I don’t like wasting my time.”
His comment makes me drawback., “Sorry to interrupt your packed schedule.”
His lips curl slightly., “If I have my way, this should be a short interruption.”
“Believe me.,” I follow him through the doorway., “I hope this is a short interruption, too.” He pauses, turning my way., “Do you know what you’re asking for?”
We’re standing on a massive staircase, the loop of the steps downward, I glance away from his face., “To see the Queen? Hopefully, I’ll take home a pot of gold.”
He takes a step on the stairs., “So it’s true then. Humans lie as easily as they breathe.”
“I’m not lying.,” My cheeks flush., “I’m just here because I caught a leprechaun.” He shrugs, beckoning me forward.,
“You can tell me more about the leprechaun later. The Queen is waiting.”
This place, it’s beyond anything I could have dreamed of. Glistening walls, they remind me of a clear spring day, the ocean dappling around our village for miles. Like the sea, these walls hem me in. Root me to the earth. My mouth falls open as the elegant Fae guard begins our descent. The stairs slope, going deeper, deeper into the ground. Patterns etch on the palace walls, and I stop, wanting to run my hand over the glittering stones. I want to feel the glimmering edges. Anya would smile at the etchings, chatter about using the elegant pattern in her weaving.
“Did you hear me?” the Fae calls back at me., “I said the Queen is waiting. On you, specifically.”
I jump back from the wall, clamoring down the steps. As we walk, there are even more Fae. They pass us, staring at me. The hair on my neck stands on end. I cross my arms, trying to avoid their gazes. Some are tall, elegant. Their clothes shimmer, their skin flushed with colors. Elegant dresses drag on the marble steps, bells tinkling from their sleeves. One reaches out to touch me, and I nearly jump away. His clear nails are so long, longer than my pinkie fingers. I shrink from his touch, and my Fae guide snaps a command.
