Chapter 18
“ T here’s much excitement over your arrival,” Neylie says for at least the fifth time.
She’s one of the Unseelie women who came with Katiya and Vada, and she has yet to stop smiling, other than to show a brief flicker of a frown when she examined my newly shortened hair and the ways she might pin it up or style it.
Ultimately, I got her to agree to a simple clip-like decoration to help hold it behind my ears.
“That I am one of the first to see you, to touch you”—her voice rises—“is such an honor.”
My forced smile flickers. That I’ve heard a few times now too, and each one just adds to my guilt.
I didn’t come for them. I came here to help my brother and, worse, to carry out the coven’s plan to help the Seelie turn the tide of war against them.
But that’s not how they see it. They see a gift from the fates. They see hope, or so I’ve been told.
The little bit of food I’ve managed to eat is hard to keep down.
“This is a lovely color on you,” Neylie adds, adjusting the sleeve of the gown they’ve fitted to me.
Where Vada is slim and lithe, Neylie is the opposite—rounded, voluptuous, and with a bubbly personality.
Her animalistic traits are few. Other than some patterning to the skin of her arms, almost like cheetah spots, she could be Seelie, pointed fae ears and all.
“It is,” I agree. I’ve always loved violet.
Though I can’t say I’ve worn a gown quite like this since senior prom, and frankly, that one was wildly uncomfortable with the corset-like top digging into my ribs.
This one, on the other hand, fits like a dream, all buttery soft with flowing material that drifts from an empire waist all the way to my toes.
They even found slippers for my feet too.
Vada measured me while I slept and passed off my measurements to a tailor. Rather than fix my old clothes, they decided I should have new ones more fitting for Faery and “my place at the king’s side.”
I suppose it looks that way with him saving me, bringing me here, and literally carrying me through the halls to his room. It’s like a twisted fairy tale, but I’m not sure how to feel about being its damsel in distress.
“I believe this is all of them.” Vada holds up a wooden bowl containing all of my cut hair, likely every single strand. She’s been collecting for some time, humming along as she crouches on the floor hunting down one piece after another.
At first, she had been hesitating to ask, drifting around the room, gossamer wings fluttering, opening her narrow mouth to speak only to close it once more. It was Katiya who pressed her into finally divulging her thoughts.
When she finally did ask, I was more confused than anything.
What value was there in bits of hair? But in her mind, the fact that it came from a human was too intriguing an opportunity to pass up.
Maybe as human spirits can fuel magic, so too could my hair help in some way when woven into fabric or mixed in a potion.
Nonsense in my opinion.
Hair is dead cells, which I tried to explain to her. Keyword dead . Whatever magic their world gets from humans, surely it has to do with us being alive, right?
But magic has never made sense to me. I think that’s why I tried to ignore it for so long. Magic doesn’t play by the normal rules. It doesn’t adhere to science. And it never helped my brother, so why would I pay it any mind rather than focusing on medicine, on science, which could help him?
At least, that’s how I’ve always thought.
A potion is still science in a way, even if it’s one created by the fae. That, I understand.
And if Vada is as skilled with them as she sounds, maybe she will help me create mine once we have the ingredients. I have a feeling she would not refuse me, especially not after the “gift of my hair.”
“You do not mind me having them?” Vada confirms. The bowl is heaped with hair trimmings. Seeing it there, it feels like so much more than when it was attached to my head.
“I don’t mind at all,” I promise.
The door swings open, a dark form filling the threshold. A breath catches in my throat as I twist in that direction, only to loosen when I realize who it is.
“Oh, my king.” Neylie drops into a deep bow at my side. Vada echoes her reverence. Even Katiya nods toward her brother as a sign of deference.
But the Unseelie King does not appear to notice any of them.
His attention is locked squarely on me, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.
His slow pursual, from the top of my head all the way to my toes, has me squirming in my seat.
Gone is his casual attire from earlier. Instead, that vicious black armor is back, covering him from shoulder to booted toe.
Only his head is uncovered, his long white hair cascading down his back.
“Stunning,” he remarks at length.
My cheeks heat of their own accord, and I find I can’t quite look him in the eye.
“I’m so glad you think so, my king,” Neylie croons, clearly pleased with herself. She didn’t say explicitly, but I believe the dress may have been her handiwork or at least her idea. “She’ll be perfect for the celebration this evening.”
“The what?” I blurt in shock.
Neylie turns to me with a look that a doting mother might give their confused child. “Word spread quite quickly of your arrival, and we are in need of a reason for some happiness around here.” She cringes over the last before turning toward the king and offering a bow. “No offense, my king.”
“None taken,” he replies. Then to me, “It would lift the spirits of my people if you would join us this evening. But first, I have something I would like to show you if you’ll come with me.”
When I don’t immediately respond, Katiya giggles. “She’s gone pale. Do not worry over whatever you may have heard about celebration from the Seelie. It is likely untrue.”
“I haven’t heard anything,” I say quickly. The last thing I need is someone else thinking I’m bait, especially Katiya.
She shrugs. “Well then, know that it’s music and dancing and a reason for joy. Nothing dangerous.”
Her toothy grin says otherwise.
Kallan sighs and shakes his head. “Don’t you have things to do?”
“Oh, plenty,” she admits. “But I rather like being here.”
Ignoring her, he says, “I have another of the ingredients you’ll need for your brother. Let me show you.”
He stretches out a hand to me, that dark gauntlet open and waiting for me to take it. No one questions what he means. Either they know, or they're much better at reigning in their curiosity than me.
I slide off the chair and walk over to him. The skirt of the dress swishes along the stonework behind me. The moment I place my hand in his, the fingers of his gauntlet close over mine.
“Thank you,” I say to Neylie and Vada before the Unseelie King leads me out of the room. His bedroom. It’s still a jarring reality to think about.
Katiya follows behind us, her steps light. “I hope I get to meet your brother,” she says, voice ever chipper. “He must be quite the human for you to risk so much for him.”
“He is,” I reply over one shoulder. “I think he would enjoy meeting you as well. He likes fierce, smart women, and your brother has had only good things to say about you.”
“Oh really?” she croons in return, tail swishing behind her.
“It’s said you have risked much for your brother too,” I add. It’s so easy to lift her spirits, and I find myself wanting that.
Kallan’s hand flexes on mine, where he holds it as we walk.
“For all of our people,” he amends quietly.
She cackles, drawing the attention of a few Unseelie farther down the hallway. Immediately, they stop and whisper to one another.
It’s daylight again, light spilling in through the numerous window-like openings on one side of the corridor we walk along.
I barely had time to take it in when Kallan first brought me here, but now the view ensnares me so completely that I can’t help but lean toward the open windows for a better look.
I drag him to a stop and slip my hand from his to lean against the high sill.
Before I thought we might be on ground level, but I was wrong.
We’re up a few floors at least, the wall of stone plunging straight down to a mostly flat area below where people mill about, darting in and out of archways, chatting in small groups or visiting what look like little wooden market stands.
A few torches glimmer here and there, adding light to the otherwise shadowed space.
The pathway is narrow, no more than twenty feet, the other side an almost sheer rock cliff pocketed with windows on various levels, much like what I imagine we’re in.
“The city is built in a gorge,” I say, marveling at it.
“Yes,” Kallan replies. “It’s easier to protect ourselves this way as we need only ward the top from any Seelie spies who may fly over or come near.
With my sister’s powers of shielding worked into their making, we are nearly undetectable here, which allows those who are not fighters to live in relative safety. ”
Now that he mentions it, the Unseelie I see below don’t look like warriors at all.
Not a one is dressed for battle, nor do I see any weapons.
Much of their clothing is colored like the earth—tans, browns, some grays, and blacks.
There’s little in the way of bright color, most of the pops of it coming from wings, horns, or bits of scaled skin.
Though here and there I see awnings or banners in varying shades of purple, from paler hues like my dress to deep shades that are almost black.
“Ah, my wards. Yes, I should check on those before the celebration,” Katiya says from where she leans against the curve of an arched opening. “I’ll see you then.” And just like that, she vanishes.
That, I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to. I blink a few times at the spot where she vanished, part of my mind trying to catch up with what the rest already knows. All of this feels like a dream that I cannot wake from, though my actual dreams have been even more strange since I arrived here.
A few people below notice us, pointing up and nudging one another. The flow of conversation shifts, the volume rising.
I step away from the window, from the overwhelming press of attention. “L-let’s go.”
Kallan doesn’t question my sudden hesitance, just takes my hand and leads me on.