Three
Calypso
We hit something hard and rolled. Clutched as I was to his chest, I was jostled but unharmed when we came to a halt on our sides. The fae’s grip on me loosened as the rumbling abruptly ceased.
I scrambled out of the fae’s arms, shedding his cloak as I stood. Solid brick walls hemmed us in on three sides, but thankfully, none of them moved.
“We are safe,” I declared.
“For now.” He groaned, and I spun around in time to see him climbing awkwardly to his feet.
He straightened as though movement hurt. For a moment he appeared normal, but then his face contorted into a mask of pain. Magic intensified in the air, making my skin tingle as though a summer storm threatened. A yellow glow surrounded him like stardust, and the ghostly image of a crown flared bright gold among his mussed hair. His head snapped back; the sinews of his neck stood out in sharp relief as he grimaced at the blackness above us. His body vibrated so violently that it appeared there were two of him before me.
Then as abruptly as magic had begun, it ended.
The fae crumpled to his knees and fell forward. If he hadn’t caught himself at the very last moment, he would’ve landed on his face in the dirt. Then, he lay frighteningly still.
“Sir.” I rushed to his side but hesitated to touch him.
So much magic had just ripped through him I suspected he ached. Newly transformed shapeshifters consistently complained about sensitivity to touch after their first few transformations. Those of us who tended young but had not transformed ourselves had been ordered to never touch the kit afterward, at least not until the child allowed it.
“Are you alive?” I asked, hovering just next to his shoulder. He lay face-first on the ground with his hands tucked under him. I saw nothing of his features. Did his eyes move? “Sir?” My heart thundered in my chest. What if he was dead? I would be alone. I glanced fearfully at the floating flame. It didn’t even flicker.
“Azulin.” He rolled onto his side with a guttural moan. Pain etched across his handsome features. “You may call me Azulin. And yes, I live.”
“What was that?”
“The curse.” Azulin rolled into a seated position and rested his elbows on his raised knees, letting his head hang between them. A thick cluster of curling hair fell forward, obscuring his features. “The Unseelie king cursed me years ago, and each full moon, he compels my magic to drag me to a place where I am trapped for three nights. Usually, I am forced to ride in the Wild Hunt. He appears to be getting more creative.” He waved a hand limply at our surroundings.
Azulin groaned and rubbed his forehead, pushing his hair aside. A few stray strands persisted in curling across his brow. “If that was the only aspect of the curse, it would be tolerable. But the curse also plays havoc with my magic. It turns more volatile and uncontrollable as the moon waxes and then as the moon wanes so does the curse. Each cycle, the curse grows slightly stronger.”
“How? How can he do this?” I demanded.
He regarded me grimly. “He used my name.”
“Azulin?”
“No, my full, true name.” He grimaced. “Like a fool, I trusted someone, and they betrayed me.”
My chest ached for him. I knew how betrayal felt. “My childhood best friend did something like that to me. Such betrayal hurts.”
Amusement glinted in his eyes. “They stole your name?”
“No.” My face heated beneath his regard. Why had I shared that bit of information with him? Now I would have to explain. “We were to marry when we came of age. But when all the others shifted and I was unable, he married my sister instead.”
I rose and brushed off my kirtle. I didn’t want to see his pity.
“Why?” Azulin gained his feet with far less grace than before, turning toward his discarded cloak.
“Why what?” I asked. “I can’t shift. It simply is.”
Azulin paused and turned to frown at me. “It isn’t as simple as that. You have plenty of the right kind of magic, and as far as I can sense, there is nothing stopping you.”
I shrugged, trying to deny the growing pit in my stomach. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t tried to prove myself in the past decade of shame. However, no matter how I tried, I couldn’t shift.
“The elders refused to explain. Supposedly, those like me usually don’t have any detectable magic, yet I have plenty of it.” More than any other shifter in my generation, or so my parents had been told.
To my great relief, Azulin seemed to accept this and turned away once more to collect the cloak.
“Shall we continue onward?” I asked, staring into the heavy curtain of darkness ahead.
Azulin shook out the cloak. “We have little choice. This was for you.” He dropped the garment over my shoulders, engulfing me in cloth.
I stumbled beneath the weight as he walked past me. “This is too large,” I protested. “Besides, I will get it dirty.”
He looked back over his shoulder, arching his eyebrows at me. “It will keep you warm and quiet your teeth chattering.”
“My teeth weren’t chattering.” I tried to suppress a shiver.
“Keep up or you will be left in the dark.”
Gathering the front of the cloak so I wouldn’t trip on it, I let the rest drag on the ground. It served him right for forcing it on me. Then I hurried to catch up.
“So, what do I call you?” he asked when I caught up with his long strides. “Don’t give me your true name, though. We don’t know who might be listening.” He motioned to our surroundings.
“I am not sure what my true name is, so that won’t be a possibility. You can call me Calypso.” Managing the yards of unwieldy fabric distracted me, so his amused chuckle caught me by surprise.
“How appropriate.”
“Why?” I narrowed my gaze at him. “It is the name my parents gave me.”
“Do you know what Calypso means?” he asked.
“No.”
“Hidden.”
We walked in silence for a moment before he turned to me. “Perhaps I can help you. Have you tried a catalyst to help you access your magic?”
“Like what?” I had never heard of a shapeshifter using something to help them shift.
“An artifact, a magic source, or a mentor?” he suggested.
“My parents did try to get me a tutor, but not until I was past the age of turning. It was a last-gasp effort to try to fix the fact I hadn’t shifted.” Familiar frustration flooded through me.
“What did they do when it didn’t work?”
“They disowned me and kicked me out of their house.”
“What?” Azulin stopped in his tracks. “Why would they reject their child because she was different?”
I turned and confronted him. “They had no choice. The elders decided for them because I was a burden on the community. Unchanged are not allowed to have children for fear of passing on the condition. The elders considered me a leech on the community resources, always dependent and never a contributor. Are you satisfied now? Can we just walk? I’m tired of discussing my failures.” I stalked off into the darkness.
Just when I reached the outer edge of his light circle, he sprang forward again, catching up within moments.
“But it wasn’t your failure. It was theirs.” Azulin’s voice had lowered in tone so much that I glanced over to check whether it was truly him speaking. “I assume you attempted everything to shift like the others.”
I nodded. Tears burned the backs of my eyes as the memories pressed in on me. Long hours of willing my body to change. Envisioning growing a tail like my sister’s or ears similar to my father’s. Anything. The desperation that had burned in my gut.
Then one day the community elders made the official declaration. I was an unchanged. My hopes and dreams for children, a family, a life of my own shattered in that moment. If my sister and her husband—my childhood best friend—hadn’t stepped forward, I would’ve been homeless as well.
“My parents left the community rather than face the shame. My sister and best friend took me in so I wouldn’t be without shelter. Besides, she was with kit and needed someone to help.”
We walked in silence for a few moments. My head swam with thoughts of my sister and her husband. Would they worry? Or would they only be relieved that Mindy escaped unscathed? Would they think of me at all?
“Do you have anyone who will worry over you being gone?” I asked.
His stride shifted ever so slightly. “I do.” The cold, aloof fae was back. His expression turned remote, and his gaze hardened.
“Who?” Before he answered, a new sound came from far ahead—a whinny. I hesitated. “What are the chances there’s a horse trapped down here too?”
“None. I would wager this creature is far more dangerous than a horse.” He stilled and listened. More whinnies and the sound of galloping hooves grew increasingly loud, as though the creature came toward us.
“Another mimick?” I asked.
“Worse,” he muttered grimly. “Under no circumstances are you to touch it, understand?”
Part of me balked at his tone of command, but he had saved my life twice so far. He knew far better than I the potential hazards that lay ahead.
“Calypso?” The warning in his voice was clear.
“I understand.” I reluctantly stepped back behind him. “No touching the horse-like creature.”
“Also, don’t give it your name.”
“I am not fool enough to give it my true name.”
“No.” His voice turned deadly serious as I stared up at his back. “Don’t give it any name even remotely close to your name. And kindly refrain from giving it mine either.”
∞∞∞
Azulin
Before I gained her promise, the creature burst into sight around a corner in the path. Despite the darkness, I knew instantly that the beast bearing down on us at a full gallop was no horse. His pooka essence, heightened by fear, flooded the passage in front of him like a tidal wave. Part glamor, part persuasion charm, with a hefty dose of anxiety, the pooka’s magic formed a powerful compelling spell specifically geared toward unmarried females of any species.
I drew my sword and backed up closer to Calypso. After the spark of magic last time our skin made contact, I dared not distract myself by touching her. However, I had no intention of chasing a pooka all over the labyrinth as he took her for a wild ride because she gave in to his enticing allure.
The black stallion form the pooka had chosen barreled down on us, changing direction at the last moment to circle us, screaming like a frightened horse.
I moved around Calypso, keeping myself between the creature and her. “Calm yourself,” I ordered him. “Calm yourself and speak.”
The pooka tossed his head, showing us the whites of his eyes. “Ogre!” He breathed raggedly, nostrils flaring dramatically. He pawed the ground and wheeled on his back legs. “Ogre. A carnivorous ogre in that direction. Run!”
“There is nowhere to run,” Calypso informed him as she stepped around me, her attention far too fixed on the creature. “The passage comes to a dead end in that direction.”
The pooka appeared to come to his senses enough to realize she was a female. Striking a dramatic pose, he tossed his head again. “Then we are doomed.”
I snorted my disgust. “Drop the enticing glamor, fairy. I know what you are, and if you carry her off, I will hunt you down and make you wish you had never been born. I am far more powerful than any ogre. Do not test me.”
Showing the whites of his eyes again, the pooka backed up as he flattened his ears. “No harm meant, good sir. This is my fastest form. I have no designs on your lady.”
He gathered himself and in a blurring of mist and dust, he transformed into one of his only slightly less harmful forms—a human male. Tall, but not as tall as I, he boasted a physically capable form, dark hair and green eyes. Dressed like a common farmer in a coarse spun shirt with a kerchief around the neck, thickly woven cotton trousers, and heavy work boots, the pooka looked far from suave. However, he still oozed magical appeal.
“Why didn’t you stand and fight?” I asked.
“I am not armed.” He grinned sheepishly. “If I hadn’t been caught unaware when I was kidnapped, I would’ve armed myself. But, the attack being a surprise and all, here I am with only my good humor to defend myself.”
I grimaced. “Charming the ogre wasn’t an option, then?”
“Ogres aren’t my type.”
Behind me, Calypso laughed softly.
The pooka smiled smoothly at her, apparently not bothered in the least that I stood between them.
“So, you have been caught unawares twice. You must be a truly oblivious person.”
Calypso nudged me in the ribs. “What has he done to you that makes you insult him?”
“He is pooka, and you are female.”
The pooka cleared his throat. “Not all pooka live up to the reputation of our ancestors—running off with maidens and destroying crops and such. Some of us prefer a quiet life.”
I eyed him with suspicion. “And you are one of those?”
“I am.” He stated it flatly without a hint of guile about him. “I have yet to carry off a maiden, and I live on the northern edge of the Wild Woods, as far from my wilder cousins as I can get. They tend to let me be because I am boring by their standards. A high fae dressed in black appeared in my field while I was harvesting my crops. He used my true name to bind me to this labyrinth until a king breaks himself free of its bounds.”
“That sounds like the fae who put me here,” Calypso volunteered. Catching my sleeve as she had when interrupting my spell before, she asked, nodding to the pooka, “Might the fairy be able to help? The ogre sounds like a bit more than we can comfortably handle on our own.”
I groaned inwardly. I didn’t want to share her company, but she did have a point. Ogres, though often dull of intellect, were also tenacious—especially when hungry. If the ogre had been chasing down a pooka, it was more than a little peckish.
“Very well, pooka.” I sheathed my sword. “I need your sworn word that you will not betray us.”
“Only if you give yours in return, high fae. Your kind don’t exactly have a good reputation among my people either.” He offered his open right hand. “Bond of mutual need?”
“Aye.” I stepped forward, tapping into my magic as little as possible. Hoping I didn’t trigger the curse, I began the fae words of the bond as I clasped his forearm. The pooka mimicked my motions, his magic rising fast and powerful to meet mine. Together, we swore mutual protection and fidelity—a bond that I suspected neither of us felt. However, we knew that the pact would keep us honest.
Despite my hopes, the magic drain was too much. The curse triggered. I barely had time to finish the last phrase of the oath and release him before my curse flared.
I staggered away from him, gritting my teeth against the pain as my portal magic attempted to transport me in three directions at once. Sparks burst across my closed eyelids. The physical strain of my body being torn apart into tiny fragments and then smashed together at least a dozen times a second ripped through me. It took all of my focus to prevent my transportation away from my companions.
Then, as suddenly as the episode began, it stopped.
Dropping to my hands and knees, I struggled to breathe with lungs that moments before had been scattered in three different directions. My lungs burned as though they had been perforated by millions of shards of glass. I wheezed painfully, and black dots threatened to overcome my vision.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Calypso’s soft query wove through the pain as she knelt beside me.
On my other side, the pooka approached and loomed over me. “Portal magic?” His tone sounded far too innocent to be benign.
I shoved myself into a seated position and glared up at him. “What do you mean by that?” I demanded with far less force than I wished.
He raised his eyebrows and attempted an expression of harmlessness. “Only that portal magic is rare. I have only heard of one fae in generations possessing such a skill.”
I glared at him. The last thing I needed was for Calypso to discover who I was. The terms of breaking the curse were vague enough that I feared taking a wrong step now that I had gotten so close to breaking it.
“We all have secrets here, pooka. Best we don’t explore them too deeply, or we might harm our chances of getting out of here.” The wheeze making my voice falter undermined any impression of strength on my part, but it didn’t make me any less dangerous.
The pooka might be flirty and charming, but apparently, he wasn’t a fool because he shut his mouth.
Calypso edged around behind me, staring wide-eyed into the darkness. “Um, I think the ogre has found us.”
The pooka swore and spun around, changing into a black stallion mid-turn.
The ogre, an enormous creature who towered to at least a dozen feet tall, approached from the far end of the passage. He carried a flaming torch. The reek of the flame reached us before his personal body odor.
Behind me, Calypso sneezed and then gagged.
I reached for the storage spell. “Weapon preference?” I asked the pooka.
“Bow and arrows if you have them.”
I rolled my eyes. “Can you handle a short sword?”
“Well enough for this task,” he replied.
I amazingly didn’t fumble the spell and found the odd weapon I kept in there constantly as a backup.
“Here.” I tossed it to him.
The pooka transformed back into his human form just in time to catch it. Then the pair of us turned to face the monster who was sniffing the air in our direction. The ogre’s eyes squinted at me.
Calypso moved closer to me as the creature started for us. “Stay—”
“I know,” she whispered. “Stay behind you.”
“Ogres are notoriously shortsighted. If something happens to us, find the smelliest thing nearby, make yourself small next to it, and don’t move. There’s a chance it will overlook you and move on.”
“He’s coming!” the pooka called as he moved away from us, effectively drawing the creature’s focus to him.
“Ogres’ weak spots are the back of their knees, beneath their arms, and the back of their necks,” I pointed out as I drew my sword.
“Ugh!” Calypso gagged behind me. “What did he do? Roll in rotting carcasses?”
“Most likely.” The pooka tugged the cloth around his neck up over his nose.
“Why?”