Servant of Earth

Chapter 17

17

I peered down the stairwell, wondering if I was the greatest fool ever to live.

Was I really about to seek out the Fae’s foulest monsters to ask them about the Blood trial?

The stone steps were uneven, and there were no torches to light the way. It looked like the entrance to a cave. Would there be any illumination down there? If not, I’d need to return to the upper levels to grab a torch. I didn’t want to use the key where someone might see it.

Not that the key could provide anything but its golden glow down here. The Nasties lived below even the human quarters, and I hadn’t been able to find any hidden Earth tunnels that went that far underground yet. Thus, the direct approach.

I clenched my hands, digging my fingernails into my palms. The pain helped ground me. I reminded myself that I had my wits, a decent amount of speed, the protection of Earth House, and a mystical dagger. Surely that would be enough.

I braced myself against the walls on either side as I descended. Soon the light of the corridor above had receded to a faint glimmer. Just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to see my steps anymore, a bluish light appeared below, like the diffuse gleam of sunlight through water.

The stairs ended in a pillared hall lit by glowing blue moss that grew up the columns and crawled over the ceiling. Three archways yawned in the wall opposite the stairwell. The left-hand opening was pitch black, and the air emanating from it was icy. The middle archway was illuminated by the same blue light as the main chamber, revealing a cobbled path. The right-hand opening led to sharp rocks lit by a fiery red flicker.

I chose the middle opening and the terrain I would be fastest on should I need to run. The path led into another cavern lined with luminescent moss. Milky-white stalactites and stalagmites reached towards each other, and the sound of dripping water echoed off the walls. Something small scuttled behind a rock as I approached, but the dagger barely twitched against my arm, so I assumed it was mostly harmless. As I passed, I saw three beady red eyes, a furred snout, and a hairless forked tail. The Nasty equivalent of a rat.

The path wound through a series of similar caves, and the deeper I went, the stranger the surroundings became. I passed pools of still water, glittering black crystals, and towering monoliths, all lit with that faint blue glow. A footbridge with no railing arced over a fast, narrow river; as I crossed it, a green fin breached the surface, followed by the thrash of a scaly tail that sent water splashing over the front of my dress. A knucker?

Yes , the dagger replied, squeezing my bicep hard. Don’t fall in .

“I’ll do my best,” I muttered, relieved when my feet met solid ground again.

The next cavern was filled with snow-white grass that reached to my waist. I brushed my hand over the silky fronds; as they moved under my touch, grass stirred elsewhere in the cave. Something was approaching quickly from the right, sending ripples through the grass. The dagger vibrated in warning and took form in my hand. When I raised the blade menacingly, the motion stopped.

“Better stay like that,” I whispered to the dagger. It quivered in agreement.

Throughout the cave system, smaller paths arrowed away from the main thoroughfare, but I had no desire to explore them. The path I was on was wide and well lit—it had to lead somewhere important.

At last I emerged in a chamber almost as large as the cavern where the king’s dinner had taken place. A strange, cylindrical building rose in the center. It was continuous with the black stone above and below, as if it had been carved from the rock when the cavern was first formed. Twisting pillars rose to the ceiling, and balconies punctuated each level. The doorways and windows were wide enough to accommodate the stretch of wings.

The path splintered ahead of me, weaving a dark web throughout the space. Other exotic features dotted the landscape: carved monoliths depicting monsters, enormous stone benches, even a gnarled oak tree that rose over another patch of bone-white grass. The bark glittered, and as its leaves rustled in one of the inexplicable winds that scoured Mistei’s corridors, tinkling music echoed through the vast chamber. Not wood and leaves at all, but stone.

Here, at last, were the Nasties.

They stood in clusters, sat on benches, and gazed into pools. They flew, crawled, and slithered. They were as varied and brilliant as the Noble Fae and Underfae, but twisted, as if their beauty had been distorted in an imperfect mirror.

There were tall Nasties with humanlike bodies and the heads of deer. An enormous golden snake with three ruby eyes. Tusked animals with six legs and wiry fur covering their muscled bodies. There were even Nasties whose faces looked gorgeously Noble Fae–like above their contorted bodies and sharp claws. Nightmares flew overhead, crimson-scaled beings with the backwards-jointed legs of animals but the torsos and heads of humans. Twisting horns sprouted from their foreheads, and their membranous wings reminded me of bats.

The murmur of voices mixed with hisses, snarls, and chimes. Not all the words or sounds were recognizable, and I wondered if they’d developed a common tongue to speak with the more monstrous creatures, those whose mouths didn’t work like mine.

The sound died as hundreds of eyes focused on me. I felt their malevolence like a thickening of the air.

The dagger pumped with urgency in my hand. “I know,” I told it. My body tingled with the knowledge that I was weak and an outsider—potential prey to these horrors.

The nearest cluster of Nasties broke apart as they approached me. I was being surrounded. I kept my spine straight, trying not to let my fear show. Illusion shaped reality in Mistei—perhaps feigned confidence would protect me.

The Nasty in front of me inhaled deeply. It was mostly feline in form, with a whiskered muzzle, pointed ears, and a swishing tail, but its arms and legs were wholly human beneath a layer of silky black fur. There was a white blazon on its chest, and I remembered Elder Holman saying that black animals, especially those with a single white mark, might be shape-shifters from the other realm. And Fae creatures often have unnatural hungers , he’d warned.

The Nasty smiled, revealing sharp fangs.

Sweat dampened my dress. “I’d like to visit whoever is in command down here,” I said with false bravado. The king was theoretically in command everywhere in Mistei, but surely the Nasties had their own hierarchy.

“Why?” the Nasty asked in a rumbling voice, stepping closer.

“I’m from Earth House. I have questions.”

The circle around me continued to tighten. “Earth House has no business down here.”

“I have business down here.” I brandished my weapon. “Stop where you are.”

The Nasty didn’t stop. “I wonder how your blood will sing on my tongue,” it said, licking a fang.

I held my ground despite the fine trembling that started in my legs. “I’ll kill you if you try to find out.” I had never killed anyone before, but just because this Nasty sounded human didn’t mean it was any less of a monster. I could do it if I had to.

Movement flashed to my left. An enormous serpent, striking with stunning quickness. I barely had enough time to move the dagger between us before it knocked me over. It followed me down, the blade embedded in its scales.

Yes , the dagger exulted, and I felt an echoing pulse of sick joy in my veins as the jewel on the pommel glowed red. The serpent’s eyes dulled as it fell to the ground, its formerly strong body shriveled and dry.

The dagger had completely drained it of blood in only a few seconds.

I hid my shock and shoved the snake’s corpse off me, rising to my feet. I raised the dagger, ready for another attack, but no one approached. Instead, they backed away, looking wide-eyed at the weapon in my hand.

A keening sound started to my right. One of the tusked, piglike Nasties collapsed to the ground, head bowed. Others joined it.

Were they grieving? It made me sick to think of them mourning a friend the way I had mourned Anya.

They were monsters, I reminded myself. They didn’t feel that deeply. “Which way?” I asked the catlike Nasty, trying to hide my nausea and discomfort.

It pointed silently at the citadel in the center of the chamber. Creatures scurried out of my way as I mounted the steps to the monumental front doors and walked into a vast entrance hall.

Before I could step more than five paces inside, a short, wizened creature with pointed ears and skin gray as granite rushed up, bowing and motioning for me to follow. I might have believed he was an Underfae, but something unsettling twisted beneath his skin, like worms burrowing. He led me down a few labyrinthine corridors, then stopped before a door that had been hammered out of silver. He opened it, ushering me through.

The room was lit by candles. It was intimate compared to the entrance hall, with checkered black-and-white floors and more hammered silver lining the walls. A loosely woven ivory tapestry covered one entire wall, and before it was a stone altar. A nude female faerie stood behind the altar, visible from the waist up.

She was beautiful in a terrifying way, with milk-pale skin, jet-black hair, and round eyes the color of fresh blood. Her ruby lips gleamed wetly in the flickering candlelight. On either side she was protected by a line of winged guards, the same type I’d seen flying above.

“Why have you come here, human?” Her voice was smooth and caressing, but it gave me the sensation of something skittering over my skin.

Time to speak the words I was never supposed to speak. “I’m seeking information about Blood House.”

“Is that so?” She cocked her head. “How curious. Will they not tell you above?”

“It’s forbidden to speak of Blood House above.”

By the look on her face, she already knew this. “So you have sought out the Queen of the Nasties in the hopes I will defy Osric and tell you whatever it is you need to know.”

A queen? Osric definitely wouldn’t approve of that. My pulse accelerated with rising fear. “I was told only the Nasties had the courage to speak of Blood House. Your majesty.”

She laughed, and the hairs on my neck rose. The sound dug into me like whisper-thin needles. “You are correct, of course. You seem familiar with blood already, though.” She glanced significantly at the dagger in my hand, as if she knew about the snake I’d killed. “Do you really need us to tell you more?”

Would she put me on trial? Execute me? “Your subject attacked me,” I protested, gripping the hilt tighter. “I have the right to defend myself.”

“If you were fast enough to kill him, he did not deserve to live.” She flicked a hand dismissively. “I am curious about that dagger, though. Where did you get it?”

“I’ve always had it.”

“Liar.”

“It’s the truth. It belonged to my father.”

“Will you give it to me in exchange for information about Blood House?”

The dagger shuddered so strongly the vibrations shook my bones. I glanced around for danger and realized several of the winged Nasties to my right stood closer than they had a few seconds ago. Each wore a belt bristling with knives, and their black breeches cut off at the knee, revealing taloned feet that could easily disembowel me.

“Perhaps,” I lied, trying not to panic. “Just tell me this—what did Blood House hold sacred? What trait would they seek to test in others, and how might they test it?”

“You presume much, demanding answers from Queen Dallaida without offering something in exchange first.” She smiled widely, and now I could see that there were no teeth in that gaping mouth. There was something else behind those crimson lips, though, something black and glistening…

“Queen Dallaida,” I said, shifting my weight towards the exit, “I mean no disrespect, but it’s a simple question. Hardly worthy of a dagger like this.”

“A simple question with a complex answer. Here is the easiest part of it. Blood valued strength.”

I knew strength was one of the sacred traits, but it wasn’t enough to help me guess what the trial might be. “What kind of strength? Physical? Did they value violence?”

“All forms of strength.” She flicked a pale hand, and the winged soldiers began advancing towards me. “Did you know the Dark Fae—the Nasties, you call us—used to swear fealty to Blood House? After the other houses banished us for being too foul to look upon, Blood welcomed us because we were strong. You, however, are weak.”

She was going to try to take the dagger by force. I began sidling towards the exit, trying to keep an eye on all my enemies at once. There were two guards standing in front of the door—I might need to kill them to escape.

I’d never killed anything other than animals. I could tell myself the snake I’d slain had also been an animal, despite the intelligence in its eyes, but these winged Nasties definitely weren’t. Monstrous, yes. Animal, no.

I would do whatever I had to in order to survive.

One of the Nasties hesitated as he studied the weapon in my hand, but at a barked order from Queen Dallaida, he moved to intercept me. He, too, held a knife, but the shiver of the blade told me he was trembling.

Were they that afraid of the dagger? I knew it was magical, but to inspire a reaction like this…

A metal disc protected the Nasty’s chest, polished so smooth I could see the echo of my terrified face in it, but his arms, legs, and wings were unencumbered. Vulnerabilities to aim for—if I was fast enough.

The Nasty lashed out. I leapt to the side, barely avoiding the cut of his knife. I feinted high, then sliced low, severing the artery in his thigh. He collapsed as the dagger thrummed in delight, jewel glowing red. The other guard fell just as quickly, and the queen shrieked.

I glanced back and saw Dallaida rounding the corner of the altar to chase after me. For a moment it seemed she was nothing but a disembodied torso floating through the air, but then I saw the scuttling mass of black below. Her moonbeam-white torso was supported by eight segmented legs. Now that I could see the bulging abdomen that began below her navel and the horrid legs scrabbling against the stone, I realized what the ivory tapestry behind her was. An enormous web.

I fled, leaving the queen shouting behind me.

The granite-skinned steward was still standing in the entrance hall. I expected him to attack, but instead he stepped aside and bowed deeply. As I burst out of the front doors, hurtling past clusters of startled Nasties, wingbeats sounded as the queen’s legions took to the air. One of them dove at me, but I spun in time to strike a glancing blow against its hand.

It was enough. The dagger drank, and the monster fell out of the sky. A forbidden thrill sizzled through me, as if the dagger and I were one being reveling in the kill.

The Nasties around me exclaimed at the murder. Some reached out to apprehend me, but others bowed. It was bewildering and horrifying, but I couldn’t ponder the contradictions now. All I could do was run, dodging the strikes of winged soldiers and sidestepping anyone who attempted to detain me.

My breath sawed in my throat as I retraced my steps. The grassy room flashed past, and then I was sprinting over the narrow footbridge. Another attacker swooped towards me, and I ducked and nearly fell into the river, teetering at the edge of the bridge for a breath-snatching moment. The Nasty’s wing tip skimmed the water as it tried to correct its course, and a dragon head broke the surface, opening a jaw full of needlelike teeth before clamping down on the wing and dragging the Nasty underwater.

My lungs burned, and terror pounded through me. I kept running, pushing myself to my limits as I passed monoliths, crystals, and ponds. More moss, more stone, more of the cobbled path, and behind me the pounding steps and sharp wingbeats of my pursuers.

One of them landed in front of me. He held a wickedly hooked blade, and his smile revealed fangs. “Aren’t you quite the omen?” he asked.

I ignored the strange words and ran straight towards the Nasty. His golden eyes widened as the dagger in my hand glowed, flush with victory and starving for more. He abruptly shifted form, red scales melting into black feathers, and took to the air again as a small hawk. My dagger sliced through the place where he had been standing.

My legs felt ready to give out, but I was nearly back where I had started. The crooked stone steps were the most wonderful thing I’d ever seen, and I fled towards them with a cry of relief.

Something slammed into me from above and behind, knocking me down. I turned over, wincing at the pain in my knees and hands, and looked up at my winged attacker.

This Nasty was dark crimson, with dripping fangs and eyes like onyx. Her ears were pierced with silver, and her tail was cruelly barbed. As I shoved myself to my feet, that barb arced towards me. I lunged on instinct, knocking the Nasty to the floor and landing on her chest. Before she could recover, I drove the dagger deep into her eye socket.

Black, acidic blood sprayed me, burning the skin of my face and neck. Forbidden pleasure rushed into me through the blade’s hilt as the creature shrieked and fell silent.

The other monsters halted in their tracks. They looked at me like I frightened them . Maybe this had been a general in their forces and they wouldn’t proceed without her. Or maybe they had realized, as I just had, that I wouldn’t hesitate to kill every last one of them.

It didn’t matter. I fled up the steps, listening for sounds of pursuit, until at last I tumbled out into the blessed safety of the human levels.

I didn’t return to the Nasties after that disastrous experience.

The only thing I’d learned about the Blood trial was that the house’s favored trait was strength—something I no doubt would have learned soon anyway. It was frustrating to have failed, but I knew better than to attempt a mission like that again. The price had been high, and it would be even higher the next time.

I’d murdered five Nasties. I’d gone from a woman who hunted for sustenance to a woman who killed in self-defense.

It had been my life or theirs, so I didn’t feel guilty about killing them, precisely. What I did feel guilty about was the pleasure I’d felt while doing it. That pleasure had come from the dagger via our strange emotional bond, but knowing that didn’t make me feel any better about it.

What was done was done, though. Obsessing over it wouldn’t change anything.

While I didn’t descend too far underground after that, I did visit the human levels frequently to learn sign language from Maude. Triana and I had learned the basic alphabet and were working on common words and phrases. It was fascinating—the structure of the language was different in some ways from how I spoke things aloud, and nuances of meaning were delivered via facial expression, mouthed words, or the position in which the person’s hands were held in relation to their body.

During my first visit after the amputation, Triana had been pale and weak. The Underfae had shaved her head before removing her tongue, and she’d looked like an entirely different person. Recently, though, she’d started smiling again. We had to go slowly in both speaking and listening, with plenty of missteps, but she was able to tell me she enjoyed her new work. “No Fae,” she’d signed when I’d asked what she liked about it.

I could understand her relief. I hadn’t seen the brothel yet, but it was only a matter of time before I encountered it during my explorations. What horrors would be revealed through those spy holes?

I’d been bringing Maude and Triana food from the Earth kitchens in payment for lessons. Swallowing was difficult for them without tongues, so I chose soups, sauces, and food that could be easily positioned in the mouth with a finger so they could chew thoroughly before swallowing. Even with the extra I brought, Triana looked a little thinner every week. When I mentioned it, she shrugged. “Little food,” she signed slowly. “But better than brothel.”

“What did you eat there?” I asked, signing clumsily while I spoke out loud. She’d let me know she didn’t mind if I asked about the brothel. Maybe it helped to share some of what she’d experienced.

“Good food. Rather be hungry.”

I understood. She’d been kept like a prize animal before: fed fine food, dressed in silks, then sold to any and every buyer. She ate less now, but her eyes were brighter and she held her head high. Her circumstances, grim as they were, were proof that no one owned her that way anymore.

They owned her in different ways, of course. She wasn’t a prize animal, but she was still Fae property. All humans were property, including me.

If someone else ruled Mistei, would that still be the case? I considered it after the lesson. If King Osric were deposed, would the humans be freed? The Noble Fae would no doubt still want to be served, but maybe things would improve, especially if faeries like Drustan, Lara, and Selwyn had the power to shape the future. Maybe the humans could become paid servants like most of the Underfae. Maybe they could return home if they wished to.

I imagined that future as I climbed towards the higher levels. I’d start collecting wages from Oriana’s deep coffers of faerie gold. Since the magic wardrobe kept me clothed and the kitchens kept me fed, there would be no need to spend any of it. When I had enough, I would leave Mistei and buy a house in a village far to the south. I’d make friends there, perhaps take a lover. Become a trader and travel across the mountains to Grimveld to see the six-month sun, then down to Lindwic with its vast lakes and tangled forests. Then back to Enterra and the home I’d made for myself.

The idea was so sweet it caught in my throat.

A better future required more than just hope, though. Right now, all I had were my choices. I would choose to keep fighting for that future, and my actions, not my dreams, would determine my fate.

When a cluster of Noble Fae appeared ahead of me, Drustan in their midst, I made a choice. I waited until the prince noticed me, then turned and walked into an empty room.

If anything was going to change in Mistei, Drustan would be part of it.

He wandered in ten minutes later. He looked artfully disheveled this morning, his bright hair hanging loose around his shoulders and his white shirt unlaced at the chest to reveal pale skin lightly tinged with gold. As the door shut behind him, he waved his hand, and a shimmering orange curtain of magic blanketed it. A ward.

“I take it you wanted me to follow you,” he said. “Otherwise I have no idea what we’re doing in here.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve chatted.”

His eyes wandered over my face and down to the minimal cleavage my practical blue dress exposed. “I’m delighted, although normally humans don’t summon princes for casual chats.” His voice was a smoky purr, and he gave the word chats the slightest emphasis.

I ignored the heat that washed over me at the insinuation. “So you’re allowed to approach me whenever you wish, but I’m never to approach you? I’m not sure that’s how friendship works.” My pulse raced at my own boldness.

The skin beside his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Then we are friends.”

I took a deep breath. Here it was—my statement of intention, the beginning of a long series of choices and actions to bring about a better future. “Yes. I wanted to tell you that we are friends.”

With those words, I bound my cause to his.

He approached me slowly, like a stalking cat. “And do you have any information for a dear friend?”

“I went to see the Nasties.”

He stopped, ash-gray eyes widening. “You what?”

“I wanted to learn more about Blood House.”

“That was very foolish. They’re dangerous, Kenna.”

I shivered at the pleasure of hearing my name on his lips. “I know. But I wanted to ask them about the Blood trial.”

“Still trying to help Lara, I see. Careful with that.”

“You already knew I was helping her,” I dared to say. “Anyway, I didn’t learn anything. The Blood trial will test strength, but I don’t know how.”

“So if you didn’t learn anything interesting about the Blood trial, what exactly are you here to tell me?”

I didn’t know how to articulate my decision: that if he was plotting an uprising against King Osric, I would help however I could for as long as I remained in Mistei, whether that was one day or many years.

My mother and Anya had been the dreamers; I was the one who always wanted proof. My faith in anything tended to be shot through with cynicism. But Mistei could not continue the way it was, in sadism and suffering, and I couldn’t continue like this forever, either. If I read Drustan’s intentions right, this was at least something tangible to believe in, even if the act of believing frightened me a little.

So. If Drustan was defying the king, I would, too. I would fight by his side.

Such words were too dangerous to speak out loud, so I gave him the piece of information I thought he might appreciate. “There’s a spider woman down there named Dallaida. She’s calling herself the Queen of the Nasties. I thought that was interesting, since the Nasties already have a king.”

“You met Dallaida?” He looked scandalized. “And she didn’t eat you?”

“I run fast.” I deflated as I realized this wasn’t helpful information at all. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you already knew about her.”

“Dallaida has been unofficial leader of the Nasties for a century now. It is news that she’s taken on the title of queen, though. She must be feeling confident that the king’s days are nearing an end.” His tone was so casual he might have been talking about what he’d eaten for breakfast, not regicide.

I curtsied, wondering if he would try to recruit Dallaida. “That was all I had to tell you. As a friend.”

His hand rose to my face, gently gripping my chin. “Thank you for your friendship, Kenna. It’s incredibly important to me, and you’ll help countless others as well. I promise you, Mistei is going to change for the better.”

I swayed when he released me, and his wicked smile told me he’d noticed my unsteadiness. His gaze dropped to my lips and lingered for long, hot seconds before he backed away.

After he’d left, I couldn’t help but wonder what this information-sharing “friendship” would turn into. I respected him, and he seemed to respect me. Our interactions were spiced with teasing, humor, and undeniable heat. We both wanted a better world.

Was Kallen right about Drustan’s intentions towards me, despite our vast difference in station? Because if the Fire prince wanted more from me than just an alliance…

Well, I wanted more, too.