10. Puck
“Mom? What are you looking at?”
I follow her gaze to the path that circles back to the main area of town, finding nothing but a singular pink petal drifting on the breeze.
The weather here is the most varied of any court, and one can never tell if it’s going to rain, but today is beautiful and sunny. It’s the perfect day to be outside—not too hot, not too cold.
My mother pulls her light jacket tighter around her thin frame as the wind picks up and turns back to me, abandoning whatever she thought she saw on the path. Her eyes are bright with unspoken amusement. “Nothing, sweetheart.” She removes her hand from mine and brushes her knuckles along my cheek. “I’m happy you’re here.”
Another thing Titania stole from me. When she controlled me, she would barely let me visit, and the few times I was able, I wasn’t allowed to tell my mother the truth. She spent centuries thinking I was in love with a female who didn’t like her, wondering what she did to make her son withdraw. When I was freed, I told her everything and her response was to ask if a necromancer could reanimate Titania’s corpse so she could kill it again. Nothing can replace the time we’ve lost, but I make it a point to visit every few days. With the upcoming trial, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to see her again soon.
“None of that,” she tsks. She’s always been able to tell exactly what I’m thinking. “No wallowing in what could have been. We’re immortal; a few centuries of hard times are nothing.”
I lean into her, resting my head on her shoulder. She kisses my forehead and we sit in silence, watching that same petal, which refuses to land.
“Tell me about her,” my mother says softly.
“I don’t want to think about it.”
Her shoulders bounce in silent laughter. “She’s gotten under your skin already?”
“She’s done no such thing.”
“I birthed you, don’t lie to me.” Even though we appear the same age, my mother was alive for ages before I was conceived. When she speaks to me like that, it makes me feel like a simpering child.
“I just…” I tilt my head to the sky and run my fingers through my hair. “She’s a reminder of everything I’d rather forget.” She hums in understanding. “And she’s trying to steal my crown.”
“This is an obstacle in the road. You’ll win the trials, and no one will question you ever again.”
“I can’t underestimate her.”
“And you shouldn’t, but don’t lose confidence. You’ve done wonderful work in your interim. That will count for something.”
Im not sure it will.
Kings and queens have always been chosen by bloodlines, and while my mother is the best Fae in the entire realm, she’s…a seamstress. When I was chosen to be an advisor to King Oberon all those years ago, the entire village celebrated. One of our own was moving up, working for the palace in an official capacity. They threw a week-long feast in my honor.
The trials are supposed to be an equalizer and truly test our merit for the role, but I worry the judges will be swayed to stick to the status quo instead of giving the crown to a lowborn Fae who slaughtered the previous king and queen.
“You should come live in the palace.” We’ve had this conversation before, and I know the answer, but I could use an ally in court. The courtiers are fickle at best, and the second generation—my so-called friends—aren’t much better.
“I don’t belong there, darling. Goddess, I’d say something wrong within seconds of arriving and then you’d be forced to clean up my mess.” She shakes her head. “No, that wouldn’t do at all.”
“Maybe once I’m king,” I offer, and she shrugs. It’s a bit pathetic to need my mommy when I’m so old, but here we are.
“Maybe you should think about finding a wife. Or a husband?” I scoff. With a heavy sigh, she says, “I just want you to have someone on your side. And I worry that youre lonely.
Purple hair and round curves come to mind, but I banish the thought before it can fully form. She’s the last person I can trust, the reason I need an ally in the first place. That’s the only reason I thought about her.
A child’s laughter carries to us on the wind, and I can’t help but smile. “Reina!” my mother calls, and a tiny ball of energy bounds around the corner, hair flying in wisps around her face and her dress smeared with what could be chocolate or dirt. Rachael chases her with a damp cloth, but Reina puts on a burst of speed that rivals a vampyre.
“Puck!” she squeals.
I hold out my arms and she barrels into me. I lift her over my head. Oof, youve gotten big. I pretend to drop her. She shrieks in delight. Look at you, youre a mess. I place my whole hand over her face, wiggling it so she laughs as I use a cleansing spell. Rachael mouths thank you.
No, Im not, Reina insists, straightening the flower crown on top of her head. It matches the petal that was floating on the path before.
“Youre right; youre beautiful. I like your crown.
“The princess made it for me.”
Ice settles in my gut and I jerk my hand away from the crown like it’s burned me. “She was here?” I ask Rachael, who casts her eyes at the grass. What was Lysandra doing in my town? Was she truly trying to campaign against me in the place I grew up?
My mother chuckles, and I glare accusingly. “You knew?”
“The pixies mentioned it. And I might have seen her lingering on the path just there.”
“She’s very pretty,” Reina says, hopping off my lap to sit with my mother. “I wish I had purple hair.”
“No one has purple hair naturally.
“Sirens do. And pixies. And one time, when I had a sleepover in the palace, I met a Fae from Autumn Court that had purple hair—”
“Enough, Reina,” her mother says. The child shrugs and runs off to chase a butterfly.
“How did the town react?” I ask, trying to keep my tone neutral. Rachael shifts uncomfortably. “Were they cordial?” She bites her lip. “Friendly?”
“Stop pestering Rachael,” my mother chastises. “Even if they like her, it doesn’t matter. The trials will decide who is the victor, not the opinion of a peasant town.”
Rachael takes the opportunity to rush off after her daughter, clearly happy to be out from under my scrutiny.
I harrumph and grow a ring of flowers around our bench. It’s something I’ve always done: grow flowers when I need to expel some extra energy. Earth magic comes in many forms, and while I can manipulate soil, wood, and rock, and I use vines when I need to fight, I prefer flowers. There’s something calming about turning my anxiety into life.
My mother holds my hand as the grassy yard becomes a field of wildflowers that grow in every color I can think of…except for plum. Those I intentionally leave out.
The next day passes in a haze of strategy meetings and party planning. Even with the impending trials and party preparation, I still have to run the court. Lysandra sits in on every meeting, watching curiously but remaining silent.
The only time she shows any emotion is when I pass a decree that will lower taxes in the villages and raise them for the courtiers, and even then, I can’t read her expression. She remains stoic while other members of the council glare daggers at me for deigning to infringe on their considerable wealth. I ignore them. Like my mother said, the opinions of courtiers won’t decide who wins the crown. And, while I still reign, I need to make sure my citizens are cared for.
“What was that look?” I ask once everyone clears out. I need to know if she was impressed or disgusted—to know what will happen to Spring Court should I lose these trials.
She simply smiles and leaves without a word. Infuriating. Im starting to think her main hobby is goading me.
I manage to meet with my teammates for the trial once, but the conversation is based on conjecture. I had hoped Eldoris would have learned something from his sister, but even the judges don’t know what the trial is. Or she wouldn’t tell him.
The night of the party, everyone gathers on the palace lawn—a spacious area within the walls that has different gardens, arenas, and, most presently, the hedge maze. Orbs of magical light hover overhead to illuminate the thick green hedges. Tonight, were hosting the society of each court and the royals, though I’ve heard the villages are having celebrations throughout the realm.
Fae mill about, taking glasses of wine from servants and buzzing with excitement. Everyone loves a labyrinth party, but Titania hated them, so we haven’t had one in ages.
I approach the second generation, who are clustered around Izar and someone new. They laugh and clap them on the back, chatting animatedly as I sidle up next to Edina. “What’s going on?” I ask, trying to appear at ease. Even though the trials are tomorrow and I’d much rather be resting, I need to play the part of a welcoming host, someone they can trust to throw wonderful soirées in the future.
Izar wraps his arm around the male and tugs him into his side. It’s then I recognize he’s Baxter, the baker from my mother’s village. “We…” Izar starts, turning to the male. “We’re mated. We accepted the bond this morning.”
Everyone claps and rushes to congratulate the couple, but I hang back. Now that they’ve said it, I can feel the magic humming around them like they’re coated in starlight and bound together by invisible strings. The magic of the mating bond is truly something to behold. It’s a gift from the goddess.
I do my best not to look like I’ve been punched.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Lysandra gushes. She’s wearing a dress that matches her chartreuse wings—which are out tonight—and her brown eyes sparkle with happy tears, as if she’s known either of them for longer than two minutes. “I was there when they first saw each other.”
“If it wasn’t for Lysandra, I wouldn’t have gone to the village,” Izar says, his attention solely on his mate. “And who knows if we would have ever met.”
“We would have,” Baxter replies, pulling Izar in for a kiss. Again, everyone fusses, squealing and reveling in their happiness.
Edina is doing a much better job at pretending to be happy for them, but the way she leans into Eldoris and the way he has his lips pressed to her temple, says enough. Seeing a newly mated pair has opened not-so-old wounds.
As if she knows I need steadying, she grabs my hand and squeezes tight. Her eyes find mine, and she widens them in a silent message. Stop wallowing and be happy for them. I repeat the motion with my own command. I’ll stop when you stop.
It draws a laugh from us both and I bring our clasped hands to my lips, kissing her knuckles briefly. I push aside those what-could-have-been thoughts, reminding myself who put us in this predicament in the first place.
The mere thought of Titania chases away the sadness entirely, replacing it with a low, simmering rage. Rage is good. I can harness rage into this competition and use it to make me into a finely honed weapon.
Rage can help me win.
When I look up again, Lysandra is staring at me. It only adds fuel to my fire.
I have to find a way to get into her head, but in all our interactions, she’s been inscrutable, completely closed off. Even now, I can’t discern what she’s thinking; whether she watches me and Edina with pity or curiosity or—
“We came to tell you we can’t make the party,” Izar says, running a hand through his dark hair. “We, uhh—” The males look at each other, and Baxter blushes bright enough that it can be seen in the weak light. “I’ll be ready for tomorrow,” he promises Lysandra.
“Have a great night.” They say their goodbyes before heading for the palace doors.
“I should get us started,” I say, nodding at the group and making my way to the hedge maze entrance. An arm brushes against mine, and I turn to find Lysandra trotting beside me, her little legs struggling to keep pace. “What are you doing?”
“Welcoming everyone,” she says like it’s obvious. “We’re co-hosting this party.”
I want to tell her to fuck off, but were being watched. Fine. If she thinks she can handle hosting this crowd, who am I to stand in her way?
Be my guest. I sketch a bow and motion for her to lead the way. You can explain the rules.” I know full well she doesn’t know the rules of this particular game. It may seem obvious, but Fae are cunning and they won’t hesitate to cheat if they aren’t explicitly told what they can and can’t do.
Its so much fun watching Lysandra realize shes in over her head. She tries to appear calm, but her cheeks pink and her knuckles go white as she balls her fists.
“Something wrong?” I ask innocently.
“No. While I remain relaxed, waiting for her surrender, every muscle in her body tightens as her fury comes to a simmer. She breaks eye contact with a huff of frustration. “Goddess, you are—”
“Brilliant? I offer. Breathtakingly handsome? She scoffs.
Im not sure what possesses me—other than the intense desire to set her off balance—but then I say, Mind-blowing in bed?”
A blush spreads down her neck to the top of her breasts. I expected a scathing retort, but instead, she opens and closes her mouth like a fish. It seems I struck a nerve.
Is…is Lysandra experiencing the same irritating attraction that Im feeling?
“I was going to say that I find you lacking. It doesnt come out nearly as strong as she wants it to. This is too good. I was looking for a way into her head and now I have it.
This is going to be fun.
I take a step closer, dropping my voice so it’s no more than a rumble. “Liar.”
She squeaks, but before she has the chance to respond, we reach the front of the hedge maze. I spin dramatically, giving the crowd an impish grin. “Welcome,” I say, using magic to amplify my voice so it booms off the stone palace walls. “It is my pleasure to kick off the labyrinth party!”
Everyone cheers. Beside me, Lysandra—who has slightly recovered—opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. This is my show. I’m the ringmaster of this circus, and I’m not going to let her steal my spotlight.
“Since it’s been a while, and we have some new additions to the realm—” everyone glances between Lysandra and Edina, “—let’s go over the rules for the evening.” I feel Lysandra’s gaze on me like static raising the hair on the back of my neck. Good. Let her show everyone the catty princess she’s proving to be.
“While we don’t prohibit it, the use of magic is highly discouraged.” This is the rule most royals hate the most, so I clarify. “There is to be no altering of the maze in any way. This includes earth and fire magic. You may also not use spells that enable you to locate the center, including direction spells or locator spells. Wing use is prohibited and there are wards surrounding the maze which restrict teleportation.
“There will be monitors flying overhead to keep an eye on each inch of the maze. If any rules are broken, they will descend and remove you from the labyrinth and take you inside to the other party.” Because it would be considered poor hospitality, there’s always a party inside the palace in addition to the one in the center of the maze for those who don’t want to participate or need to get out.
“If you need to get out at any time, cast a ball of light into the sky, and the monitors will assist you. Remember the wards around the maze dampen sound within a small radius, so calling out to others will be fruitless.
“That’s everything. Any questions?” The crowd is vibrating with the urge to go into the maze. “I’ll see you at the party in the center.” With a flourish of my hands, the hedges part to reveal the three additional entrances the staff created earlier. I have no clue which one is the fastest, but all will lead to the center. “There are four similar entrances on the opposite side if you’d like to try your luck there.
The monitors, beefy Fae that look like bouncers with wings, take to the air and grow the hedges into a roof so those who fly to the other side can’t peek. As soon as everyone is settled back on the ground, they remove the top again.
“Everyone ready?” I call. Again, everyone cheers.
“On your mark,” Lysandra interrupts, her voice amplified even louder than mine. “Get set. Go!”
Everyone takes off into the maze, each picking a different path. Lysandra gives me a sickly sweet smile before she disappears into the center entrance. My jaw clenches so hard I’m surprised I don’t crack a tooth.
“Careful, Puck,” Gwyneira says, appearing behind me so suddenly I fight the urge to jump.
I shove all emotions aside, retreating into my part as host. “Enjoy the labyrinth, Your Majesty.”
She enters the maze, two of her seven husbands following behind her while the other five break off in different directions.
Releasing a breath of frustration, I enter at a leisurely pace. I’ve done enough mazes to know running won’t help, it’s better to be calculating.
Someone has left a trail of golden magic in their wake, clearly trying to mark the path they took in case they need to double back. There’s nothing against the rules about that…but there’s also nothing against the rules that says I can’t remove them, which is exactly what I do. I never mentioned sabotage in my speech, and the Fae would do well to remember my reputation for tricks when they enter a competition with me. Including Lysandra.
Especially Lysandra.