Chapter 4
4
I woke on a hard surface.
I jolted upright, startling the few people in the room with me. No, not people. Faeries. They were tall and unnaturally thin, with moon-pale skin and rainbow hair, and they wore draping purple robes. They stared at me with eerie black eyes: large and liquid, with no whites to be seen.
I sat on a black stone table in a chamber with no windows. The only other furnishing in the room was a gleaming copper tub. My leg stung and my muscles ached from running, but there were no new injuries. These faeries apparently hadn’t done anything awful to me while I was unconscious, and I wasn’t restrained, either. Because I was a welcome guest?
My emotions tumbled into a chaotic mess. Terror, relief, and then a deep, awful stab of guilt and grief as I remembered that I was the only one here. I’d gone into the bog to help the other women find a path out, but I hadn’t led any of them to safety.
I hadn’t even witnessed my best friend’s death.
Sorrow bit at me harder than any monster could. Tears rolled down my face, and the faerie closest to me recoiled at the sight.
“Get in the tub,” it commanded in a chiming voice.
Devastated and frightened, I obeyed the command. My leg throbbed as I limped over to the tub. I hesitated, not wanting to undress before these creatures. Thankfully, they filed out of the room, and I was able to strip and step into the water.
I yelped as blood and mud bloomed on the surface from my submerged calves and feet. The warmth took me by surprise. I lowered myself into the enormous tub, and although it was the most decadent bath I’d ever taken, I couldn’t appreciate anything about it.
I just sat there crying.
The door opened and closed again. I whirled, but this time the person approaching me looked human: a woman with a crooked nose, brown hair tied back in a bun, and downcast eyes. She carried a copper bowl and had a towel and a length of gray fabric draped over her arm.
Other humans actually lived here? Had she once run across the bog, too?
“Hello,” I said, but she didn’t respond. She knelt by the tub and dumped the contents of the bowl into the steaming water. My aches and pains started to fade as a flowery scent filled the air. Had the bowl contained some kind of healing liquid? “Where am I? Who are you?”
She motioned for me to dunk my head.
I did, bewildered by the interaction, and was even more surprised when she pulled a comb out of her pocket and started working on the long tangle of my hair. She was gentle, but each tug hurt—the wild sprint through the bog had created impossible snarls. I closed my eyes and bore it until she finished.
She studied my arm, and I started as I realized my vision of the melting dagger hadn’t been my imagination. A silver spiral wound from my elbow to just under my shoulder. The metal had the same unnaturally bright sheen as the blade, and in the very center, positioned on the outside of my arm, was a smooth red jewel.
It hummed against my skin as if greeting me, and I felt a pinprick beneath the jewel. Had it cut me?
The servant cocked her head questioningly, and I scrambled for an explanation. “It was a gift from my…father.” I wasn’t going to let anyone know I had a weapon—assuming it was still a weapon. “I can’t take it off.”
I swore I could feel the metal yearning for her, hoping for a taste of her blood. Was this Fae magic infiltrating my mind? The woman soaped neatly around the metal, and when she dropped to my forearm, disappointment echoed through me, radiating outward from the armband.
There were more pressing questions than how the dagger had managed to shape-shift or if the impulses I sensed were magic or just a trick of an overtired mind. I asked about Mistei—Were we underground? How far from an exit? Who else was here? What was going to happen to me?—but she didn’t answer any of my questions. She just helped me wash and then gave me the towel, laid the swath of gray fabric on the table, and left.
I dried myself and hurried to the table, relieved to find a new, clean dress. As I changed, I was astonished to realize my bruises and cuts had nearly vanished.
The dress fit differently than the gowns I was used to seeing in Tumbledown. Human dresses were modest with high necklines. This one clung to my torso tightly before falling in a sleek flow from my hips. The sleeves belled at the end, and the neckline was rounded just enough to show a hint of cleavage. It was the nicest thing I’d ever worn.
Anya would love it. She had always adored dresses and cosmetics, even after she had grown too poor to afford them.
Reality slapped me hard, puncturing the thought. Anya couldn’t love it…because she was gone.
My eyes burned, and I dug my knuckles into them. How was I supposed to go on without my best friend? Without my heart-sister?
I’d failed her.
Grief threatened to drag me to my knees, but the door opened again and the faeries returned. They cocked their heads and studied me with those liquid black eyes, like pools of ink against their parchment skin.
They couldn’t see me cry. I didn’t even know what they were going to do to me.
The faeries commanded me to follow them out of the room. My pulse raced as we walked down a corridor lit by torches that glowed in an array of rainbow colors. There were no windows to be seen anywhere.
I was truly in the mythical underground kingdom of Mistei.
I thought about everything I’d learned about the Fae over the years. Elder Holman had told us the highest-ranking faeries, the Noble Fae, were so beautiful they glowed and possessed magic beyond comprehension. They looked like humans but taller, stronger, and so captivating you could fall in love just by looking at one. They were served by Underfae, who were more likely to have horns or wings or other unusual features and wielded only a small amount of magic. My current eerie-eyed guards were probably Underfae. Worst of all were the Nasties, foul monsters who lived to prey on humans.
I shivered at the memory of the fanged creatures from the bog. That fear was followed by swift, scalding hate.
After what felt like an eternity, the corridor ended at an archway that opened into a huge, glittering chamber. The floor was polished black stone, and the silver walls shone with jeweled accents. Colorful torches flickered throughout the room and glowing orbs hovered in the air, drifting like soap bubbles on a breeze. I flinched at the sight of them, but the dagger vibrated in a way that felt reassuring, and I was relieved to realize they were just lights.
Lining the room were hundreds of the most gorgeous beings I’d ever seen.
The Noble Fae were tall and elegant, richly dressed, and as colorful as butterflies. The shades of their skin varied, but each faerie emitted a faint shimmer, as if they’d been sprinkled with golden powder. These otherworldly lords and ladies wore strange and opulent fashions: velvet robes, dresses light as moonbeams, and brocaded tunics that sometimes reached their thighs and sometimes their ankles. Many of them were armed, too, with swords or daggers in jeweled scabbards. My gray dress, the nicest one I’d ever worn, must look shockingly plain to their eyes—the clothing of a servant or peasant. And indeed, those beautiful, haughty faces looked at me with disdain as my guides ushered me to the side of the room.
A carved obsidian throne rose from a dais at the head of the chamber. Dazzling faeries stood around the dais, but the one sitting on the throne was the most beautiful of all.
He wore a close-fitting violet tunic lined with jewels over silver trousers tucked into shining black boots. His white-blond hair was long and straight, and his cheekbones angled sharply, the lines of his face so precise it seemed as if he had been carved from stone. The cruel spikes of his black crown contrasted with the elegance of his clothing. Rainbow-colored mist wafted around his pale hands, and his power seemed to hover in the air, clinging to my skin like fog.
He looked coldly at a faerie who knelt before him. “Your insolence is unacceptable.” The musical tenor of his voice was lined with ice.
“Forgive me, King Osric. It was only a jest.” The lord was trembling, his head bowed and hands clasped at his chest.
“A jest aimed at me and uttered in my presence.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Silence. I do not find you amusing.” The king looked to his left, where a coal-haired male faerie stood. “Take care of it.”
The faerie bowed. His face was stern, his skin pale. Unlike most of the Noble Fae in the room, his hair was cropped to his shoulders, and he was dressed simply in a stark black tunic adorned with an opal brooch. A sword was strapped to his waist.
As the swordsman approached, the kneeling lord shook harder, tears leaking from his eyes.
The black-clad faerie unsheathed his sword and plunged it through the other man’s heart, then jerked the blade down viciously.
I struggled not to scream as the faerie collapsed to the ground, choking on the blood that bubbled from his lips. The executioner wiped his blade on his victim’s tunic and strode back to the king’s side, looking politely bored.
According to legend, the only way to kill one of the Noble Fae was to cause severe enough damage that their accelerated healing couldn’t fix it quickly enough. The wounded faerie clutched his chest as blood pumped over his fingers in hot gushes. Soon the flow slowed and his struggles turned into weak twitches.
The entire time he lay dying, not a single faerie helped or comforted him. Most of them didn’t even watch his last moments.
I had escaped the bog, but I was still surrounded by monsters.
When the dying faerie exhaled a final, gurgling breath, King Osric sighed. “What next, steward?”
“The human, your majesty,” a bleating voice replied, and I blinked as I noticed a goat standing on its hind legs near the king. Was it the same goat I thought I’d hallucinated earlier? It wore mauve velvet trousers, a matching coat, and a pair of golden spectacles. It had furry hands instead of front hooves and gripped a tablet and pen as if that were the most natural thing in the world.
The king waved his hand, and my guards pushed me forward. I stumbled towards the center of the room, stopping short of the bloody corpse. I focused on the obsidian floor, trying to control my trembling.
“Bow,” the goat bleated. I bowed at the waist, then belatedly tried to switch to a curtsy and nearly fell over. A titter went through the crowd.
“How did it manage to get here?” the king asked.
“She followed the ancient trail, your majesty. It is unclear how she accomplished this.”
I dared a glance up. The black-clothed executioner was staring at me with unnerving intensity, and my heart pounded like a rabbit’s after glimpsing a hawk’s shadow. I focused on King Osric, trying to ignore the killer’s dark, piercing gaze. Would he kill me, too? Was he even now imagining my life’s blood pouring out?
King Osric tapped his fingers on the arm of his throne, and the colored mist swirled. “Human,” he said in my general direction, as if finally deciding he had no choice but to address me, “how did you find the path across the bog?”
“I don’t know, your majesty. I just knew where to go.” My voice shook. I didn’t want to tell him about the dagger. He would take it away from me, leaving me truly defenseless.
He narrowed violet eyes at me. “You knew how?”
“I saw a path, your majesty. It looked like a trail of light on the ground.”
Murmurs rose around the room. The king turned his attention to the faerie at his side. “Fae blood?”
The murderer’s gaze raked over me. “It must be. But clearly a long time ago in her bloodline.”
I flushed at the implication that I looked so terrible no one would ever mistake me for part faerie. Was it so implausible? I was short, but Anya had told me I was pretty—especially when I bothered to scrub my face.
I ruthlessly suppressed the memory of her smile as she’d teased me. I wouldn’t break down in front of this cruel court.
The king gestured to a muscular lord who stood with the handful of courtiers allowed near the throne. “What do you think we should do with this human, Prince Roland?”
Prince Roland’s snowy white attire was impeccable, and his long brown hair was tied back in a smooth tail. His posture and bearing spoke of rigid discipline, but there was a sadistic edge to his sneer that hinted at something foul beneath that pristine surface. I felt like an insect under his judgmental stare. “Do the same with her as we do with the other humans. Make her serve.”
I shuddered. Serve how?
Only the luckiest and most worthy are chosen to join them , my mother had sworn over and over again. How kindly her faith had painted Mistei. How many other humans lived here, and what did they suffer at the hands of these tyrants? Clearly matrimony to a Fae prince and a life of splendor had never been an option.
King Osric sighed. “That’s boring.”
“If you crave entertainment, you could kill her.”
The king laughed. “You’re just bitter you didn’t win the bet. You thought the redhead would make it farthest.”
The redhead . Fiona. Had they been watching us somehow, betting on how long it would take the monsters to kill us? My terror was joined by choking rage. They’d bet on my death and the death of the person I loved best in the entire world. Anya should have been standing here at my side. We should have finished that run hand in hand and collapsed on the grass together, crying in relief.
“Nevertheless,” King Osric said, “it is an interesting suggestion. Does anyone agree with the prince?”
Most of the Noble Fae near the dais looked unsympathetic, but one of them was studying me with curiosity rather than disdain: a stunningly handsome faerie with long copper hair and a tunic the red-gold color of flame. He stepped forward, casting a crookedly charming grin at the king. “Well, I won the bet, and I think we should come up with something new to do with her. None of the sacrifices have made it this far in centuries. Could be fun.” He turned his smile on me and winked, but the casualness of the suggestion— come up with something new to do with her —chilled me.
The king giggled unsettlingly. “You’re always interested in games, Prince Drustan.”
Drustan bowed. “The fire loves to play.”
Every single one of them frightened me—laughing King Osric, bloodthirsty Prince Roland, and wickedly charming Prince Drustan—but the one that terrified me most was the executioner with night-dark eyes, who still hadn’t looked away from me. I shivered as I met that penetrating gaze, wondering if I was about to feel his sword plunging through my heart.
“Your majesty,” the black-clad killer said at last, “I think you should let this one live.”
“Why?” The king looked at him with raised brows, and the faerie leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Suggesting he torture me instead?
The king laughed and studied me with more interest. “I’ve made a decision.” He stood, and torchlight glimmered off the jewels lining his tunic. He gestured at the sole female faerie who stood near the throne, a beautiful, ample-figured blond lady with an elaborate crown of braids. “Princess Oriana, I present this human as a gift to Earth House. Specifically, to your daughter, Lara, to serve as her handmaiden as she undertakes the trials.”
The courtiers lining the room erupted into laughter as Princess Oriana’s mouth pressed into a tight line. Clearly the king had delivered a grave insult by assigning me to serve as a handmaiden in her house. What was Earth House, anyway? The legends said Fae powers were elemental. Presumably that was what the name indicated: the source of her magic. While Drustan’s attire evoked fire, Oriana’s mahogany gown was embroidered with green vines that wound up the satin like ivy clinging to a tree.
The king sat and waved a hand, dismissing me. I didn’t know where to go, though. For a few panic-filled moments I hesitated, not sure if walking straight out would be more of an insult than staying put, but then a warm, furry hand wrapped around my arm.
The goat—the king’s steward, apparently—guided me to the side of the room. “I’ll deliver you to Alodie. She’s the head servant in Earth House. She’ll show you where to go.”
And indeed, a ghostly pale Underfae with spindly limbs and elongated fingers was walking to meet us. “Come.” Alodie’s voice was fluting and lovely, like wind over reeds. “We’ll get you situated.”
I exhaled with relief as we left the throne room, the dead faerie, and all those mocking, cruel faces. I’d somehow survived my first encounter with the Noble Fae.
A stone corridor stretched before me, lit only by flickering torches. Alodie led me down that impossibly long hallway, heading deeper underground towards Earth House and my new position as a servant to the Fae.