Chapter 32 #2
“What brings you here today, son?” he asks. If it weren’t for the subject of his question, I wouldn’t know he’s talking to me.
He begins sieving the dust through cloth, and it drains into the metal opening.
He reaches forward with a blue-and-red-stained hand to crank the handle on the side.
The top joins together with the bottom, and in a few seconds, a marbled capsule pops out, neatly compacted, and, if I had to guess, lethal to anyone who consumes the whole thing.
Its coloring marks it as poison.
My father carries the capsule to a basket filled with others and drops it in before brushing the remaining dust from his hands.
“I learned some information that I need to confirm with you,” I say, trying not to give anything away in my tone.
At last, his eyes meet mine. They are the same gold all Perri fairies have. His forehead is about the same size as mine, his slicked hair a muted gray next to his shiny skin. I take after him, unfortunately.
“There is no one else who can satisfy your curiosities?” Though he is covered head to toe with colorful dust, his tone is calculated.
He’s always been stoic with me—my grandfather raised him the same way.
Until the day he took over the duchy, he was a speck of dust on the walls.
No meaning, no purpose until he took the oath and became the right ear of the king.
Our family’s oath to the Faundor line includes a vow to never reveal our true identities to the court, for that would put our people in jeopardy…
The king’s disdain for magical creatures is satiated by his power over us.
Xavelor’s discovery of my identity, in my father’s eyes, had been a threat not only to our family but to every other fairy within the kingdom of Arioch. A death sentence, if you will.
This is no small problem.
“If I could, I’d choose to tell anyone else of my troubles,” I say with a smile that earns me a pinched look from the stout man.
“But as the oldest living Perri, you are the only one who can give me the answers I seek.” As much as he hates it, he prides himself on the power he has. Phony and cowardly as it may be.
“So this has to do with our family? With fairies?”
“Prince Ramiel has discovered who I am,” I say shortly, stiffening my jaw when his eyes darken. Actually, I told him , I don’t say. Because it’s half true. I let him see my true colors. I had to before I dug myself into a hole too deep to escape.
He curses and gnarls his lip between his teeth. “How in the seven?—”
“We encountered a spirit. A warrior from the time of King Elias,” I start, but my father’s face reddens. His temper no longer scares me, though I know if I continue, the maids will be frightened, so I itch the back of my head and sigh to rid myself of the nerves instinctively scurrying to my limbs.
“A fairy spirit,” he guesses, a hand stroking his jaw and coloring it red and blue.
“An elf spirit,” I say.
He growls. “You’d better have a better reason to be wasting my time, boy.” His hands curl at his sides.
Lies won’t work with him. Though we aren’t cursed to tell the truth, we are terrible at telling lies. But I can be selective with the truth, leaving details out. He’s always been more of a big-picture noble anyway.
I try to hide the smile bending into my cheeks.
“The prince has been working closely with a young female elf,” I say, watching for a change in his expression as I continue slowly. “Since her arrival, he’s been bitten by a magic-starved klopse, lost his sight, and has now been subjugated to a truth even I am having difficulty facing.”
I omit the unfortunate circumstance of them becoming a mated pair. That might give the old man a heart attack.
I brighten at the idea. Maybe I shouldn’t leave out too many details…
His jaw visibly tightens as he breathes in deeply. The focus in his eyes changes from disappointment to disgust, and soon all that’s left of his anger is prejudice.
So predictable.
“You’ve let an elf assist the prince?” His gravelly voice emphasizes his loathing for Ether’s people. Hideous guilt fills me, as if I didn’t bear that same—albeit dull—hatred for all twenty-two years of my life.
I’ve been raised to hate them. Because of what happened on the battlefield one thousand years ago, and because of the many deaths of our people since then.
It’s a justified hatred. Why wouldn’t we make enemies of those who are likelier to draw their blades before ever engaging in courteous discourse?
Still, Qor seemed indifferent when recounting the events, as though he’d merely been reciting facts.
Perhaps neither elf nor fairy betrayed the other.
Perhaps the broken alliance is a lie fabricated long ago to pit us against one another.
Qor hadn’t looked at me with disdain, even though he seemed to know what I was the second he laid eyes on me.
“Answer me, Ronan.” His eyes begin searching the room for his switch. He might be trying to hide this intention, but I am too painfully familiar with it to not notice it. Even after thirteen years, my body remembers.
To postpone the inevitable, I answer him quickly.
“Ramiel chose her. I have no choice but to remain silent and let him discover who she is for himself.” This earns me a snarl, but I press on.
“The information I heard has to do with the War of Undying. About the accuracy of events that happened in the heat of battle.”
“The warrior you met must have said certain things to scare you, to side with the elves,” he chuckles, brushing his hands on the loose, discolored clothing drooping over his frail body.
More dust spews up and leaves handprints on the light fabric covering his legs.
He moves to sit on the old wooden bench near an unused closet.
“Why else would you return when I strictly forbade you until you are ready to lay your neck on the line for our family?”
“I see no problem clarifying why exactly we hate the elves, if the breach of trust between our people never even happened,” I snap.
“Do not question things you have no business knowing,” he says quietly. “Instead, listen like children do, and raise them to defend themselves against the elves who hate us, regardless of the events that transpired centuries ago.”
I move near him, crossing my arms over my chest.
“You know what happened. And you’re perpetuating the lie to preserve your position as Duke.”
“I’m protecting our family.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he raises a stained hand. His expression is tired and heavy, carrying a weight of emotions I never expected he’d lay bare before me. It has been more than ten years since I last visited, so his mask is sure to have cracked a little with the pressures put on him.
“Trust me, son. When you learn of the truth, and I mean the full truth, you will not want to speak of it. It is truly vile.” He brings his hands together and clasps them above his dirty legs. “Speak of it, and even our own will call you mad and condemn you.”
Condemn me? For spreading the truth and rekindling the powerful alliance between elves and fairies?
I know I should be filled with hate. It’s what I’ve always been told. But now I’m simply confused. “Why did you tell me… us …to hate them, the elves?” my voice grinds out. The surprise on my father’s face shows as he widens his eyes.
“They’ve done enough to make us hate them, don’t you think?”
“But they’re…” I shake my head. “Our people used to be allies. The strongest.”
“Yes,” my father says, nodding, “which is why such hatred has been able to persist for so many years. We teach our side of the war and sprinkle in the lie to justify our disdain.”
“But why?” I breathe through clenched teeth.
“Because of his mother,” he says simply.
Something flickers across his expression, warring with something I can’t see.
“We are too close to the end. We cannot afford to lose control now,” he grumbles, his pupils shrinking to black specks.
“The elves cannot undo the damage they’ve caused.
Nor can we undo what our people have done to them.
War or no war, our histories will not change. They cannot.”
“So that’s it? We continue to hate each other, even if the event that started all of this was someone else’s invention?” I huff my frustration through my nose as my voice grows louder.
My father matches my volume, his eyebrows creeping over his broad silver forehead.
“Have you associated with this elf? Your concern for her must mean you’ve lightened your distaste for her kind.
My son, you’ve grown far too soft. Your duty as the future duke will be to promote our written history for the peace of the kingdom.
With the Faundor family in control, we have this house, this blessed lineage of our own, this blood-won comfort.
Is that worth nothing to you? Have you no loyalty to your nobility? To your family ?”
Heat rolls over my ears, and I slam my fist into his desk. He doesn’t flinch, instead squints, and his lips ripple with contempt.
“You can shove that loyalty up your ass,” I growl. “Your wife, my mother, and my only siblings were killed by elves, all because of this lie you’ve painstakingly preserved.”
My father stands on uneven legs and raises a thick hand.
But I am not the same boy who will cower and wait for the blow. Without his switch, he is just an old man.
When he swings, I catch his wrist and bring my other hand around to cuff his chin. I lift him into the air, surprised at how lightweight he is. He grunts for air, the hardness in his eyes aimed at me with no shortage of intensity.
Through short breaths, he curses, “Leave me. I don’t care if they kill you, torture you, or maim you. I’ll produce another heir. One who will understand his duty as a Perri. You have proven your unworthiness.”
I drop him, and he crumples to the ground, coughing.
“You’ll have to find a fairy willing to bed you, then,” I sneer.
He snarls, gnashing his teeth as he turns away from me. “Leave my sight at once. You are no son of mine.”
“Gladly,” I bark, turning on my heel. The door slams behind me, and I linger in its echo.
Rage fills me with intolerable heat, and for once, it finally feels righteous.
My own family has promoted this lie for centuries, lengthening this endless feud for humanity’s gain.
A feud that must stop.
I start down the hall, not bothering to keep my heavy steps quiet.
I’ll be a wretched fairy. Worthy of the Perri nobility, drunk on power and status but without the human shell that “protects” our people. The shell I’d grown so comfortable with it became normal. Felt natural.
No more.
I won’t do what they want.
I’d rather burn for all eternity in the seven hells.
I march down the stairs and stomp past the maids who are still, as predicted, lined up at the entrance.
They shift nervously as I trudge past without giving any of them the attention they crave.
But as I near the door, the final maid catches my eye.
Young with black rope-like hair, she seems to have recently started working at the mansion, judging by the way she doesn’t avoid my gaze.
I pause next to her, and she twitches when I give her my concentrated attention.
Her fear staggers me.
She’s innocent. They all are. My hatred should be directed at the ones who continue to lead them all astray. My father and his cronies. Myself. We who are silver-skinned and black-hearted.
My chest deflates, and I smile at her. Her gray eyes sparkle as though she’s seen something beautiful and fleeting. Another skewed perception of what should be admired.
I leave the estate, and the doors click shut behind me. The guards aim their sticks at me, already having received orders from His Grace .
This is my goodbye.
I stretch my wings, let them crack and bend, then gently push off the ground with the fronts of my feet.
Once I’m in the sky, the heat at my center reduces to a simmer.
The sky has gone totally dark now, except for the light from the cosmos that litters the sky with dead kings and a haze of stalking morning sunlight.
Small steps. I should have taken small steps. Detaching myself from my family will bring ruin upon us all, but somehow this puts me at ease.
Ramiel is unlike Xavelor. He will bring change. My defiance will be worth it. He has already proven not all royalty behaves like his brother or his father. His kindness must be protected. This is one thing I’m sure Ether would agree with me on.
Ether.
I clench my teeth. Unless Qor had told her excruciating details about the War, the horrendously beautiful creature would likely never come to the same realizations I have on her own.
I don’t think I hate her, but she frustrates me to no end. I can’t imagine a single proper thought goes through that ethereal head of hers.
After all, she hadn’t realized I was a fairy without my blatantly revealing myself, even with the signs and signals I threw her way. Would she have seen the falsehoods of her people in Qor’s story? Or is she still fueled by hate and ignorance?
There’s only one way to find out.