Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
EMYR
Irun a dagger through the dreaded creature—no.
Not a creature. A man. A high fae with a mess of red hair and freckles. I won’t forget his ruddy face. Dark blood, nearly black, spills from his eyes. The cursed energy smells of sulfur as it soaks into the dirty ground beneath him.
He’s been chasing me for miles. Miles and miles of me screaming in terror before he caught me. My fear is gone now. I’m nothing. My heart still beats, rapid and out of my control, but I feel nothing. Nothing.
His red, leathery wings tell me he is from the Mars Palace, like Tibalt. He has an extra pair of eyes beneath his, but other than that, he is just like my friend.
My stomach lurches.
I pull the dagger from his flesh.
“One more dead,” I mutter. “How many more can there be?”
The curse is worsening. It has been two days since I left the carriage, and this is the second corrupt high fae I have found.
Why does it feel as if they’re following me?
Dirt and dried blood coat my clothing, and the dagger in my pocket is the only thing keeping me safe. I plucked it from the last fae who hunted me.
It’s clear that the curse is searching for me, and it has always been. Hiding here in this unknown village is for the best.
Ophelia can’t be hurt when I am gone. Tibalt can’t be. I’ll stay here forever, running, and perhaps the cure will work itself out.
This is where I belong.
I drag my feet into the dusty, quiet inn. There’s not a sound of laughter, not a single musician playing, not so much as the tinkle of a piano. Only the slight clink of glasses against the wooden bar—nothing more.
The people here don’t know me. Or perhaps they do, but they can’t recognize me with the hood pulled low over my face. I hardly recognize myself these days. Without saying a word, I slide a piece of gold across the bar. The barkeep knows what to do.
“You look a bit beat up, dear,” someone else says. “Are you all right?”
I turn to my right and nearly jump out of my skin. “Ophelia?”
She laughs like bells. “No, but I am flattered you confused us. Do you know Ophelia?”
Upon closer inspection, this Moon Fae doesn’t look much like Ophelia at all. She is older, her wings are darker, and her ears are pointier. It was a trick of the light. Anyone with purple wings reminds me of her—of my friend.
The friend I kissed. The friend I left behind, like a coward.
A trick of the light. That’s all.
I shake my head. “How do you know her?”
“We met quite briefly.” The strange fae leans closer. “Tell me. What brings the Sun Prince this far from the castle all on his own, carried by bloodied wings?”
No one else in the inn dares question me, but this fae does.
My jaw ticks. “That is none of your business. I don’t know who you—”
“I am a friend of your parents. Surely, you have seen me floating around the palace.”
“I don’t make it a habit to memorize the friends of my parents.” I knock back my drink in one gulp. “They’ve many acquaintances, after all. Please, leave me.”
“Ah…” She sighs. “You want to be on your own? I should have assumed as much. You look like a man who is on the run. What do you run from, Prince Emyr? From the love, or the lack?”
I clutch the glass harder, and it shatters. More blood on my hands. My nostrils flare. “From everything.”
OPHELIA
“He vanishes now and then,” Tibalt tells me. “You needn’t worry. He will return in a few days, with stories of things he shouldn’t have been doing.”
Tibalt’s assurances give me little comfort, but having another friend around the palace is nice. Helena seems to enjoy his presence, too. She hardly speaks around him—a rarity for her—and whenever she does say something, her face is the color of ripe cherries.
I would find the whole thing quite cute if I did not have other concerns.
While it is a difficult decision for Tibalt, we decide it is best not to tell anyone about the worsening curse.
There are no signs of other corrupted high fae, and Emyr should be the one to tell them the news…
if he ever returns. If the curse didn’t take him.
Many ‘ifs’, things keep me tossing and turning well into the evening.
When I can’t sleep, I write letters—none of which I send to him.
On one particular evening, I curl up near the fireplace in one of the palace’s many sitting rooms—the only one workers are allowed to enjoy. I lean over the desk, using the flickering light of the fireplace to illuminate my handwriting.
My dearest prince,
You have been away for days now. Days without your laughter are too long. Tibalt is spending far too much time with me, and I would appreciate it if you could take him off my hands.
Just a jest, of course.
It is easier to jest than tell you how I truly feel, Prince Emyr, for you see
No. I crumple the paper and throw it in the fire.
The castle isn’t the same without my dearest friend. I await his return for days, and it appears I’m the only one worried about the disappearance of the angel-winged prince.
His parents don’t send anyone to look for him. Tibalt doesn’t care. I do. I care far too much.
I miss the garden. I miss him being with me in the garden. Perhaps it’s unsafe to wander there alone at midnight, but my feet carry me before I can stop them. There are plenty of guards to keep me safe, I suppose.
While it is a fact that I’m not the only one loitering around the darkened grounds, the surprise is that I spot another with lavender wings. Aside from Princess Minetta, there are few Moon Fae around the palace.
This one sits by the fountain’s edge, her lightly wrinkled hand dipping into the water as she hums.
Isa, a fae I haven’t seen in far too long. She all but disappeared after my arrival, and seeing her again sends a jolt of electricity through me. She’s always been there, at least in this phase of my journey, to guide me when I’m at my lowest.
Perhaps she is just who I need to see now.
I smile as I fly toward her, floating inches off the ground. It’s getting easier to hover for short distances, though I know I can never fly away like Emyr.
She turns to look at me, and her warm smile is soothing. “There you are, dear one.”
I laugh nervously. “Were you searching for me?”
“I was. I wanted to check in on how you have been doing. I’ve heard rumors…”
“Rumors?” I furrow my brows. “Rumors about me?”
“Mhm. On my way to the Moon Palace, I spotted a certain sun prince with tales to tell.”
“Emyr?” My eyes widen. “You saw him? Is he all right?”
“Quite. I imagine he’ll be home any day now.” Her eyes sharpen. “He told me about how you have used your magic. You’ve done things I have only ever dreamt of.”
“But you grant wishes.”
“Wishes have limits.”
“You create portals!”
She waves a hand. “Any Moon Fae can do that. Removing the energy from something, however temporarily, is a rarer display of our empathic abilities. Tell me… what did you learn from this experience?”
“I learned”—I sigh—“that I should grow in strength before attempting that again.”
Tibalt has been acting the same way. They think I performed a miracle, and perhaps it’s far too easy to ignore that the curse came for me next. A man is dead because I meddled with magic I should not have touched. That isn’t something to celebrate.
I bite my tongue to keep from bursting her bubble any further, but heavens…
A storm rages in me, and I don’t know how to protect others from my rain.
If I remain silent for much longer, I fear it will be unleashed on someone who doesn’t deserve it.
It’s been there, in the pit of my stomach, for so much of my life.
The presence of this helpful fae can only soothe me for a moment.
“What you learned,” she says, “is that energy cannot be destroyed or created—at least not by a fae. We are not gods.”
“I know that. I would never think of myself as a god.”
“All we can do is”—she waves a hand, and the water behind her rises into balls—“move it. See, it is no longer in the vessel, but it is still here.”
I stare at the water through heavy-lidded eyes. It ripples, calling me in, but I can’t quite listen. “Why can’t I have magic like that?”
She chuckles, and the water drops into the pool like rain. “You may in time. Do you understand my point?”
I nod, though it brings me no joy to comprehend what she has to say. “I can’t destroy the curse.”
“Sadly, you cannot. It seems you can move and remove the energy, and if we find something to do with it, it may be useful… but there is another option.”
“What is it?”
“Alchemy.” Her eyes light up. “The sun and moon are polar energies. With the help of your prince, you may be able to turn it into something else.”
“Madam, that is impossible. We’ve done our research—”
“Until something has failed, it is best not to consider it impossible.”
I press my lips together. “I suppose you mean I shouldn’t give up so early—even though my prince—I mean, the prince—he’s nowhere to be seen?”
“That is what I mean.” Her eyes twinkle. “And, as I said, he will return. You see, your prince is a great many things. He is intelligent, stubborn, and a fantastic flyer. He is also arrogant, and his gigantic ego is even bigger than his wings. Do you know what he is not?”
I shake my head.
“Courageous.” She chuckles. “That is what you must be. It is why you fit together like halves of a whole. You must carry the courage for both of you.”
“But I’m not courageous. I’m a coward. I always have been.”
“When you lost your home, you ran to a new place that would surely wish to see you dead. You befriended the prince and even allowed him to know your secret. Above all…” Her voice drops to a whisper.
“You allowed yourself to love without knowing if that love could be returned. That takes great courage.”
I’ve always believed the psychic abilities of the Moon Fae to be understated, having not seen hints of them in myself, aside from my empathy. Now, with a fae I hardly know looking through me as though I’m transparent, I see just how psychic the Moon Fae are.