Seventeen #3
I press my palm against the side of one of them, as if I can hold in the blood pouring down her shirt. Her eyes, a fierce silver and green mix, show no pain, only the desire for vengeance.
“These are the twelve original members of the Court. Over two thousand years ago, they defended our new home from vampire explorers.”
“Why were the vampires attacking?” For all my life, the fairies have only ever been at war with people roughly our size, but vampires are ten times taller than us.
I see his head turn to me in my peripheral. When the silence stretches, I turn to face him, my hand still on the wall. He’s eyes search mine, making me a bit uneasy.
“You do not know about the vampires?” he asks.
“I know they exist.” Thinking about the other stuff Fabia’s researched for her books, I add, “And there are two types: born and turned. Turned ones can only be made by biting Earthers as all other species combat the change.” Though even Earthers often suffer from the Craving, a mindless state of bloodlust they rarely return from.
His silence eats at my stomach.
“And when they give head, they bite –”
“About our history,” he cuts in. “Your history.”
Closing my mouth, I shake my head. My hand falls away from the wall. The only things we get taught in Brownston are the rules.
“I know you don’t have schools for magic, but do you not have normal schools?”
“The only schools I know about are from Fabia’s books.” His lips tighten, and I shuffle my feet. “What do you mean by ‘my history’ though?”
Reaching for my hand, he leads me down the wall. Whenever someone tries to talk to us, they take one look at him, then scurry away. The crowd parts for us like magic. My eyes on the wall, I watch as the large painting of the twelve women merges seamlessly with the next.
A meadow hugs the branches of the tree. It looks very much like the one housing Brownston. A sapling rises up through the flowers, and within its trunk sits a beautiful queen with dark-blue hair, familiar purple eyes, and the brightest pair of wings – even more so than the twelve fairies before.
Dancing in the flowers, to the right of the sapling, is a male. Blood cascades down his sides as he spins in place, with his arms in the air. A smile lights his face, but no wings grace his back. They are bloody and torn up something terribly.
“What is this?” I ask.
“Our history,” he says quietly. “Brownies are fairies who’ve lost their wings.”
Shivers shoot down my spine, making me want to shake my head, not to deny it but out of shock that I didn’t already know this. “Lost?” I ask, my voice tight as my eyes never waver from that terrifyingly happy face.
“Eventually. At first, you cut them off and gave them to the vampires.”
“Why would we do that?”
“Because a good brownie does not stop another from being happy. The vampires wanted our wings to decorate their scientific boards, along with those of butterflies, bees, and other insects.”
As soon as he says that, I notice the pair of wings at the man’s feet. Bloody and dull. My eyes widen as I scan the painting. The entire meadow is full of them.
Raising a hand to my lips, I take a step back. My shoulder blades itch, right where my wings would’ve been had I had any.
“We were almost brought to extinction,” Richard says. “Queen Raza took those who wanted to fight the vampires, and we moved up into the trees. She begged King Verizeen to come with them, but he refused, and when the vampires came again, he willingly gifted them the fairies they wished to kill.
“Queen Raza was so horrified when she found out that she waged war on him. Instead of killing them though, she captured them in the hopes of changing their minds. But a few days later, she released them all from her dungeons. King Verizeen and his followers went back to their meadow, and Queen Raza never tried to intervene again. But the next time the vamps came, you all cut off your wings instead.”
I look at my king, not knowing what to say.
I want to ask if any children were among those ‘gifted’ to the vampires, but I don’t know if I want the answer.
My chest squeezes as I recall what was said in the Council Room.
“You brought all the children from Brownston back,” I say, my throat tight. “Why?”
“You had Fabia to save you,” he says slowly. “They needed someone too.”
I throw my arms around him and hold him tight. I hate how ignorant I’ve been to all this. To the horrors of our past and the horrors of our present. “Thank you for saving them,” I rasp.
“I’m sorry I didn’t save you. I didn’t know… that’s what you all were doing.”
I shake against his chest. That sickness my grandpa instilled in me still crawls across my skin. I don’t ignore it this time though. Don’t hide it behind smiles and rules and all the things a good brownie does.
“Lief raped me, Arienna!”
“If you went up with your grandad, he would’ve raped you too.”
I flinch. My stomach churns. I don’t want to be a good brownie anymore.
I want to be…
I want to be…
“Breathe,” Richard says.
“Does my good little slut want to breathe?”
I have never felt more safe than when I’m in my king’s arms. So that is what I’ll be. A good little slut.
Shaking against him, I hold him close and breathe.
When I finally still, he leans down to kiss me. But he stops a fraction away when my stomach rumbles. His eyes narrowing, he straightens. “Did my naughty little queen lie about needing a snack?”
Seeing the hot warning in his eyes, I stumble back a few steps, holding up my hands. “Noooo.” I shake my head. “I wasn’t hungry at the time.” I flinch. “Well, I was, but barely. So barely I didn’t want a snack.”
He takes a step towards me, cornering me despite my back being to the open floor and his to the wall. My skin flushing, I try for a bright smile. “And it’s been about an hour anyway, right?”
He glances at his head of security.
Jace shakes his head. “Dinner is in five minutes.”
“That’s about an hour!”
“That’s five minutes of you being hungry.” Looking up, he raises a hand, signalling to someone. “We shall eat early today, but, my queen –” He grabs my chin, lifting my gaze. “Do you remember what I told you would happen if you let yourself go hungry?”
He leans in. My pulse hammers in the base of my throat. I half expect him to make me get on my knees right here and now.
And fuck. I half want him to.
In front of all these people.
No.
No. That would be bad.
So bad.
My lips parting, I lick my lips. His eyes latch on to my mouth before he leans in so close to my ear that our cheeks brush. “I asked you a question, my queen.”
“That you’ll fill…” I struggle to form the words. My skin hot, I flush deep. “My stomach yourself.”
“So… Which one do you want me to do first?”
Pressing my thighs together, I try not to take a step back as I recall I also have the punishment of twenty-one spankings. “For now or later?” I squeak.
“You want them now?”
Before I can answer, a loud voice announces that dinner is ready to be served.
Stumbling back, I turn towards the caller. “I think that’s for us,” I babble. “And a good little slut always listens.”
He grabs my wrist and spins me back around. “To her king. A good little slut always listens to her king.”
I gulp.
Fuck.
I am so getting fucked tonight.