Chapter 6 #2
She is not here. Is she? When I scan the strange faces, I’m looking for her. My eyes fall upon red hair and pointed ears.
It doesn’t look exactly like her, but…
I step closer, squinting. “Will you please remove your glamour, miss?”
“Emyr!” my father booms. “Where did your manners go?”
The red-haired fae giggles, clasping her hand over her mouth. “I don’t mind. Truly.”
“Only if you’re sure.” I smile politely. “There’s something I’d like to see.”
With a wiggle of her nose and a shimmy of her shoulders, her purple wings unfold. Brilliant tattoos appear across her cheeks, purple flowers etched onto her skin like she is a work of art.
A Moon Fae. She must be… no. It cannot be. But it is. It is her—the Moon Fae from the ball.
The tattoos. I didn’t notice them last night, but that’s likely the work of the liquor. Her hair is more vibrant in the morning light, but this is the one I have been waiting for, and she is here now—the answer to not only my prayers, but the prayers of every fae in my kingdom.
My hand flies to my chest, my fingers fiddling with golden buttons. “Are you...?”
She nods. “I am Minetta, but you may call me Minnie.”
“Minnie.” My smile grows, and our eyes remain locked for several long moments.
“It seems he’s made his decision,” my mother whispers giddily.
“So he has,” my father says.
For the first time in many years, there is pride glinting in his expression.
OPHELIA
There’s only one place I can go. One person who will still care, even after a period of time apart.
My stepsisters pleaded with their mothers for the better part of the morning. Their little voices echo through the cold, lonely halls, but there is nothing to be done. The lady has made up her mind, and I’m packing my things.
It doesn’t take long to gather everything I own. It fits in a single bag.
All I’ve ever wanted was to free myself from this wretched home, but it was meant to be my choice. I’ve been practicing a speech for years, longing to tell the lady of the house how she mistreats me, how disappointed my father would be in her, and how terrible she is to her daughters.
Like so much else, my stepmother has taken that opportunity from me. The pain in my chest from living somewhere that is such a terrible fit only grows.
These are my last moments in my childhood home.
I can’t even stop to say goodbye to my stepsisters. They chose their side, and it can’t be mine.
I carry my single, lonely bag outside.
The path in front of me is uncertain, even though I know the streets of Far Water by heart and soul. Despite the lack of clarity, each step is lighter. I have no regrets. This may not be how I wanted to leave my stepmother behind, but I can make the best of it now that I am going.
This is good. This will be good.
My head is low as I push my way through town. I must be imagining the eyes that drag over me as I go.
The path to her home is familiar, ingrained in my mind. I remember exactly how it feels to rap my knuckles against the wooden door of her little cottage.
To my great relief, Ethel answers. She looks the same as she did weeks ago—with dark eyes and hair, as straight as can be, trailing down the middle of her back. I used to wake up with her hair in my face. She is the beekeeper’s daughter, and the smell of her honey musk once lulled me to sleep.
A tear spills down my cheek. “I’m sorry. I have nowhere else to go.”
We didn’t leave things on the best of terms, and she doesn’t understand why I had to leave her. I suppose from her perspective, it may seem like an abandonment, and the reaction I receive is to be expected.
Her eyes narrow. Not in suspicion but in pure hatred.
Did I truly hurt her so much?
“And you think you can come here?” she spits. “You think anyone in this town will take you in?”
I startle, stepping back. “I—I did not think—”
“No. You did not.”
This was a mistake. Ethel has been dear to me for so long, and I thought those feelings of warmth would survive past the end of our courtship, but it appears I was wrong.
I still care for her so profoundly, still see her as my dearest friend, but she looks at me as though I am a bug beneath her shoe.
“Y-you’re still heartbroken,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Will it make you leave faster if I say that’s the case?”
Ethel does not understand what I am, but she knows about the pain my stepmother has caused me. She will understand. She must.
I shake my head. “Ethel, I know you and I are no longer courting, and I didn’t come to reconcile with you. My stepmother—”
“She told me what you are. I know what you are.” She leans in, her eyes flashing. “She told everyone. You’re the halfling, the bringer of evil, and you lied to us all. You lied to me.”
My blood runs cold.
How? How did Lady Ashbridge get the news out to the town so swiftly? Bloody stares from snooping neighbors turn to me from every direction, cutting me down. My nails dig into my palms.
These people once loved me. They once cared for me. Now, they do not even fear me.
They despise me.
“I don’t…” My words are weak. “I do not know what you mean.”
“There you go.” She scoffs. “Fibbing again, and right to my face. Typical. You lied to me for years. We’ve known each other since we were teenagers, and you never told me this. How could you keep such a secret for all this time?”
“Exactly.” I wipe hot, furious tears on the back of my hand. “We’ve known each other for so long. You know I’m a good, kind person. I loved you. You loved me.”
“I don’t know anything about you.” She doesn’t frown, nor does she shed a tear. Her face is expressionless. “Now go.”
It’s as if my ex-lover is under a spell—under her spell. Somehow, Lady Ashbridge is to blame for this.
There is nowhere else to go, but I can’t stay here a moment longer.
My heart pumps as I sprint from the cottage and run past the sneering, glaring people who were once my neighbors.
Fear. Wide eyes.
I must go. Somewhere. Anywhere that can bring me safety.
But there is nowhere. I’m alone.