4. Elim
The night’s comforting darkness had grown thin, as had my hope in my unexpected luck. Whatever stone the walls had been made from, any pockets of magic had eroded long ago: hardly surprising, considering the tower’s purpose. My own skills were useless with so much iron in close proximity, so I dug and chipped away at a piece of crumbling mortar with the tiny point of the shard-of-night.
I’d all but accepted my fate to join my brother in the soil when the pendant suddenly sank into the wall as if it were made of mud, followed by my hand. I pulled my hand back instinctively, still clutching the pendant, marveling at the warm, damp air that had surrounded it a moment ago. I’d only hoped to connect the shard-of-night with a pocket of unstable magic, hopefully weakening the wall enough to push through. But whatever I’d found felt more like a portal, the sorts that allowed the occasional passage of emissaries between the Shadow Court and the Bright Court. Portals were only found in the physical courts themselves, carefully closed on both sides until formal agreements were made to open them during rituals or meetings.
I’d never left the Shadow Court, my late elder brother assuming those responsibilities for the both of us since I was a child. There had been pressure from my advisors to take a bride, as Glade was still considered too young to take the second monarch seat—under my rule, anyway. Apparently Gretvir had no such qualms, with his bald eagerness to subvert rule and control my young niece in one fell strike. Fear unbecoming an Unseelie prince slithered through me, even with my own escape at my fingertips.
The Bright Court wouldn’t welcome an unannounced intrusion, but were far less likely to execute me with the speed my uncle and cousins intended to. I strode to the wall again, shoulders straight, determined to walk into the unknown with my chin held high. This could even be a good thing, I reasoned, as I could inform the Court of my uncle’s treachery, or perhaps even form an alliance to unseat him. I’d be there to greet Glade as she arrived, even if I couldn’t convince her people to ride out and find her. Perhaps Glade’s mother might even vouch for me for my brother’s sake, if I could find her quickly enough.
Mind made up, I pushed my hand against the mortar, my fingertips finding the soft edge of a void that gave as I pressed. I pushed my body against the strange opening, shoving it back like heavy piles of leaves, just barely making enough space for my head and chest. Panting with effort, I shoved my other shoulder through, my eyes opening to nothing but darkness and a putrid smell that puzzled me. The Bright Court was, I was told, awash in flowers and beauty, this was a scent closer to our foulest swamps and growing more pungent as I entered the portal.
A great rush of wind at my back shoved me tumbling through the darkness, my feet scrambling to find purchase on a ground that no longer existed. I fell a short distance, landing in an undignified heap on what felt like solid stone, gravel biting at my knees through the thin black silk of my traditional royal garb. I stood immediately, expecting to face several angry Highborne guards, but instead found a great square cauldron, metal and vast, green as the woods. It was the source of the putrid smell, or perhaps it came from the small, hissing creature that boldly flashed its fangs at me from beneath the cauldron.
I followed suit, drawing up my lips to show off my own impressive fangs, hissing in a display of dominance. Whatever fae creature I’d stumbled upon, it needed to understand I was royalty, even if this Court was unfamiliar to me. The creature scurried away and I smiled, gratified that I’d defended my position even as I dealt with disorientation from the portal.
The great grey wall behind the cauldron was painted in colorful, unfamiliar runes, cast in bright daylight that my eyes struggled to adjust to. A haggard looking man stumbled into view as I blinked, fumbling at his side for something and giving me a bleary glance as he brought it to his mouth, pointing overhead for some reason as he questioned me. “Who the fuck are you? You one of them?”
I drew myself up, intended to formally request asylum, when the man threw a dismissive wave my way. “Nah, nah. You ain’t no alien, not green enough. No government agent, neither. No stick up your ass.”
He cackled wildly, senselessly, at his own apparent joke and stumbled out of view, hand periodically returning to his mouth as he walked away.
Uncomfortable with the blaring presence of the bright sun, I puzzled at the strangeness of the Court I found myself in, realizing belatedly the man’s ears hadn’t had points. His teeth, blackened and jagged, were nonetheless blunt. The only creatures I’d heard of that looked that way were humans, but that was impossible: they didn’t live among the fae. Did the Highborne keep them as pets, perhaps? That one had been very ill-behaved, if so, and I’m reasonably sure he’d insulted me several times.
The breeze lifted around me, taking away the putrid smell that had greeted me and replacing it with something that resonated in me to the very core. I followed it around the outer edge of a wall, ignoring the distinct smell of iron woven through seemingly everything around me. On the edge of a nearby stone platform, a small covered cup waited, an indescribable sweetness wafting towards me. I instinctively reached for it, recalling fondly the tales of offerings left for our ancestors by humans in need of our aid. The tales usually mentioned a dish of cream or milk and a small piece of bread, but only the cup awaited me now, its presence a more formal tradition of invitation among our people. A welcome sight in an unfamiliar land, it filled me with hope that I could retake the throne and protect Glade, should my luck hold.
I lifted the cup to my lips, the edges warm in my palms, and drank politely. My eyes widened at the distinct snap of magic that filled my mouth and took root, sliding down my throat and tinting my vision with a haze of beauty and lust like I’d never known. Overwhelming sweetness and light filled my senses, surely the work of the Bright Court, but safe and reassuring somehow. A clunk and grate of metal sounded above me as a great metal door swung open and the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen appeared, suspended inches above the ground on spiked, ornamental shoes that balanced her body perfectly, her tight-fitting dress so red it would make fire itself envious. The costumes in this Court were beyond imagination, but I noted with appreciation the sensuality they offered: it was all but an invitation to bed, and little surprise given the rumored lustiness of Bright Court fae. My brother hadn’t stood a chance.
Much to my dismay, the goddess frowned peevishly as I mused, reaching out and tugging the cup from my hands as I stared in awe at her. She muttered something I couldn’t quite make out, staring at me as she sipped the drink herself, brows drawn together in concentration.
How bold, and how fortunate! I’d only just arrived in the Bright Court as a refugee seeking alliance, and already I’d been proposed to by what had to be the most beautiful Fae I’d ever seen. My heart beat for her, my loins strained for her, and soon, I’d bed my bride and properly show her the prowess of the Unseelie.
“I accept, my Queen.” Eager to make a good first impression with my betrothed, I bowed and addressed her in the evident language of her people, struggling to recall the words the man by the cauldron had used to greet me. Aha! Now I remembered…