28. Who Turned The Tables And Can We Put Them Back?
My eyeliner was probably already streaking down my cheeks, but on the off chance I didn’t yet look like some sort of grunge panda, I carefully swept the rainwater from my face, squinting through the deluge.
The white shape pranced to Idris’ side, ruffling enormous wings.
Saeth.
How on earth had the horse gotten from Tir o Hydref to the sodden grounds of Nairsgarth? Was this the reason for the prince’s frequent absences this past week? I’d assumed he’d been hiding, maybe even avoiding me, but it looked as though he’d been flying his horse across the island instead, without a thought to spare for discretion.
He wasn’t going to fly him now, was he? Not when he could barely stand straight. Somehow, I wouldn’t put it past him, and no other idiots lingered in the rain, waiting to intervene. It looked like it was down to me.
Sighing and grimacing, I hoisted my hems and squelched through the soggy grass.
When I reached them, my suspicions were confirmed. Idris was trying to fly. Saeth stood with his head hung low in resignation, his mane plastered to his neck, while the prince took several failed attempts at placing his foot on the waiting wing joint. He eventually managed the feat, but immediately lost his balance, swinging sideways and thumping against Saeth’s shoulder.
“Shush, Saeth,” Idris reprimanded in the loudest whisper I’d ever heard. “Keep still!”
It might have been funny if it wasn’t a disaster waiting to happen. The poor horse gave a dismal snort and threw me a look that quite clearly said, ‘I get this all the time.’
“Idris,” I barked. The prince jolted, spinning and stumbling. His wide, alcohol clouded eyes took several moments to focus on me. “What are you doing?”
“Oh.” His brow lowered almost to his dark eyelashes. “It’s you.”
With a rumble that shook the ground, lightning cracked overhead, momentarily illuminating the low, petulant clouds. Electricity zinged over my skin and quivered in the air. My heart leapt to my throat, urging me to duck or retreat, but I held out my hand.
“Come on, it’s not safe to be out in a storm.” Especially in the middle of such open grounds. I had no interest in being barbecued.
Idris laughed, a low, joyless chuckle and, ignoring my outstretched hand, turned back to Saeth. This time, his foot planted on the lowered wing.
I moved without thinking, my wet hem slapping against my legs as I closed the distance and grabbed fistfuls of Idris’ jacket. He staggered as I dragged him, but kept his footing, twisting out of my grasp. I launched a fresh attack, this time seizing his wrist with both hands and clinging on for dear life.
Idris blinked, as though mildly surprised that I hadn’t given up, and laughed. Mean-spirited amusement sparked in his eyes as he raised his arm above his head, stretching me to my full height and then some. I teetered on the tips of my toes, while he just grinned down at me, completely unperturbed by the weight of an entire human dangling from his arm.
“You won’t win, you know,” he mused.
The urge to slam my knee into his balls, just to prove that he wasn’t as all-powerful as he thought he was, had me grinding my teeth.
“Maybe not,” I panted, “but I’m not letting you fly like this.”
He lowered his arm, twisting it free of my grasp. Too easily. It was laughable and humiliating in equal measure. As I attempted to grab him again, he caught my wrist, and then the other, with a precision he certainly hadn’t possessed while trying to climb onto Saeth.
“Stop,” he hissed, his grip tightening slightly as he forced my arms down to my side. The movement brought him close. Close enough that his warm breath fluttered over my freezing skin, filling my nose with the light, fruity scent of fairy wine. I wriggled and squirmed, to no avail.
“No. You can’t fly like this.” Giving up my escape attempts, I glanced around Idris’ broad shoulder, to where the horse waited dutifully. “And shame on you, Saeth, for letting him.”
The horse tossed his head with an indignant snort, as though he’d understood me. Maybe he had. I’d given up declaring things impossible. If fairies and vampires were real, why shouldn’t animals understand human speech?
“Don’t be mean to him,” Idris reprimanded, frowning again. “He’s a good boy.”
I blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by the prince’s choice of words. I’d never heard him sound so… soft. But I rallied, determined to put an end to this stupidity. “I’m sure he is, but you’re not. You’re drunk.”
“So?”
“So, you were going to fly, weren’t you? Flying under the influence is against the rules.” I didn’t know if that was true, but if it wasn’t, and if I ever became queen, I’d make it a reality. “You could fall and die. Come with me, let’s find your brother.”
“I don’t want to.”
That made two of us. I shivered, eager to get inside and out of my soggy dress, if only the wretched prince would stop being a disagreeable old dinosaur. “Idris, please.”
“No, Aliza.” The prince said my name like he was tasting it, some unfamiliar, exotic thing. The fact that he’d remembered it, that he’d pronounced it properly, knocked me senseless, as did the way it sounded on his tongue, his melodious accent twisting it into poetry.
I didn’t notice he’d released one wrist until his finger hooked through the string of diamonds around my throat. He gazed down at the glittering stones, before lifting his eyes to my face. His soaked, alabaster skin shimmered, and his hair, plastered to his forehead and dripping into his eyes, was as black as the darkest night. It was distinctly unfair that, even drenched, he looked every bit the fairy prince, while I probably looked like a sewer rat.
“No name tag today?” he purred, a hint of mockery in his voice.
“It didn’t go with my dress.”
His lips twitched, and he blinked, slowly enough that I thought he might fall asleep where he stood. Taking it as a sign of his weakening, I said, “Let’s go inside.”
I regretted the words as his expression hardened in cold marble. He let go of me, retreating a step. “You go.”
I planted my hands on my hips, fighting down my shiver. “Oh, come on. You’re being ridiculous. You can’t fly like this. You don’t really think I’m going to let you, do you? You’re drunk! What if you fell to your death?”
Idris avoided my glare, staring down at the dark grass. He seemed smaller, somehow. “Please… just leave, Aliza.”
Gone was all the music of his voice. It flatlined, dull and hollow, not the bored tones he usually reserved for me, but something worse, something that had my stomach clenching with oily dread.
The cold air twisted around me, stealing the last warmth from my body. “Idris? Are you okay?”
For a moment, I thought he would ignore me, but then he lifted his eyes. Bleak, desolate eyes, utterly devoid of the spark I’d seen earlier. I gulped. Pansy had looked at me like that at her mother’s funeral. I knew that darkness. Idris was not okay at all.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded, my voice rising in panic. I cast my mind around for anything that could have caused such apparent misery. Had his part in Hyacinth’s dying moments affected him? Had tonight been an attempt to drown his guilt in the bottom of a bottle of wine?
Idris shook his head, blinking and looking away as he did so. The muscles in his jaw feathered, and then he said, “You were right earlier.”
That was unsurprising, but what in particular had I said? Had I caused this?
He blew out a long breath, lifting his face to the sky, heedless of the rain pattering over his skin. “I have nothing left.”
A cold veil of panic settled over my already frigid skin. Had I said that? If I had, I didn’t remember, and I certainly hadn’t meant whatever this was.
Idris squeezed his eyes shut, swaying again. He leaned into Saeth, who braced his legs and supported the drunk prince without complaint. I waited for him to say more, but he maintained his silence.
Should I get Anwir?
I would, but I couldn’t leave Idris alone in such a state. He’d try to fly again the moment my back was turned, and there was only one way that would end.
Idris hiccoughed, winning my attention back. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then opened his eyes, his gaze settling on me again.
“I don’t hate you, you know,” he slurred.
Oh, wow, what a compliment.“I know. Nobody leaves chocolates for people they hate. Unless they’re poisoned chocolates.”
To my knee-buckling relief, he huffed a laugh through his nose. “Who says they weren’t?”
My queasiness after stuffing the treats into my face had little to do with poison, and everything to do with my lack of restraint. I spread my arms. “Still alive, aren’t I?”
His faint smile fell away, revealing that darkness again. Damn me, and my stupid mouth, straight to hell. Was this really about Hyacinth? I’d played a bigger role in her demise, but I had no inclination to take my car for a drunken spin, even if I’d been able to. There had to be something else at play.
I casually stepped to his side, though I didn’t lean on poor Saeth the way he did. Maybe if I wasn’t looking at him it’d feel less like an interrogation. Maybe he’d tell me something. “So… why did you want to hate me?”
There was no humour in his laugh. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Was it? Was I that bad? “Not to me.” My voice came out weaker than I’d have liked.
Idris was silent for so long that I almost gave up hope of an answer. Finally, he sighed and croaked, “You woke me up.”
A chill skated down my spine. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
What have you done?
He blew out a long breath. “Is it?”
Who says I want to be?
Maybe it was wrong of me to take advantage of his drunken state, but further prying was needed, starting with the sleep he hadn’t wanted to wake from. Sage and Anwir had talked about it briefly once we’d escaped the tunnels, but I hadn’t paid much attention. “Did you dream, while you were under the curse?”
“Yes.” His voice somehow cracked in that one syllable word.
“Good dreams?”
Silence. Great. This was getting worse by the second. Warning bells clanged in my head. This male was in real trouble. I peered through the dark, searching the grounds for another person, someone who could help me. Unsurprisingly, given the relentless weather, the prince and I were alone.
“Idris,” I whispered, unsure of what to say next, but unable to say nothing.
The silence stretched, broken only by the pattering rain and the occasional rustle of feathers. There’d been no further bolts of lightning, at least.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” Idris said into the quiet.
“Well, I’m here now, and I’m already wet, so I might as well stay a while.”
Maybe it was the cold and rain, or maybe it was the unexpected turn my evening had taken, but a dull ache started deep in my chest. I pressed my fingers to my sternum, massaging the pain. In my peripheral vision, I saw Idris bow his head before turning his face to me. Forgetting my no eye contact plan, I peered sideways.
The moment my eyes met his, pain barrelled into me, snatching the air from my lungs.
I buckled forward, clutching my chest, but the sensation vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving nothing but that faint ache, and a wave of tears mingling with the rain soaking my cheeks.
What the hell?
Straightening cautiously, still massaging my chest, I turned an accusing glare on Idris. That hadn’t been an attack of indigestion, that much was certain. It hadn’t even been a physical pain, not really. It was the pain of learning Nan had passed away in her sleep, of losing Grandad to a heart attack just months later, neither giving me a chance to say goodbye. The pain I saw in people’s eyes as their beloved pet slipped away in their arms. It was that heartache that no drug could reach, and it certainly wasn’t mine.
Idris surveyed me with a detached curiosity, as though mildly interested in how I’d react to whatever the hell he’d just done to me.
“What was that?” I demanded, my voice hoarse. “It hurt!”
Idris sighed, averting his gaze. “I know. That’s why I didn’t want to wake up. It’s why I tried to hate you.” His voice was steadier than it had been, but his words still came slow and slurred. Still lacked life.
I took the opportunity to study him; the sag of his shoulders, the misery clinging to every feature. It had been hidden before, by a brittle, cold veneer, but that had fallen away, revealing the truth. He was hurting.
All that animosity, all those waspish words… Everything made sense now. He wasn’t some heartless, unfeeling monster. Something was eating away at him, and if the brief bolt of pain his clever little magic trick had shared was anything to go by, it was bad.
Maybe even bad enough to do something unthinkable.
“Why were you trying to fly tonight?” I forced the question out, terrified of the answer. Once this particular truth was spoken, acknowledged, there would be no escaping it. Maybe I was already ensnared.
Idris sighed, still avoiding my gaze. “I think you already know, don’t you?” He shrugged. “But now you’re here.”
Did I know? For once in my life, I wanted to be wrong. I didn’t want to know why he would choose to fly alone at night, when he could barely stand, never mind ride. I didn’t want to know what that awful pain might drive him to. But I did know, and I hated it. Fresh tears sprang to my eyes. I had to do something, say something, anything, to make him see sense. I had to tell Anwir, or the witches, anyone who might know how to help him.
“You’re right. I’m here. Of course I am. And so is Anwir. He loves you.”
Idris laughed coldly, shaking his head and blinking at the sky.
“Did you lose somebody?” I blurted the question before I could talk myself out of it, my words leaving in a rush. Maybe there was a lost love, from the days before the curse. A beautiful fae female, as ethereal and lovely as those who’d danced at the ball. I massaged the ache in my chest again.
Idris just stared at the sky. As though on queue, a break formed, revealing the moon. Its reflection gleamed in his overly bright eyes. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet that I felt the words more than heard them. “I have nothing left. Nobody.”
I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t take it. My heart was crumbling, and it hurt. I stepped in front of him, and before he could stop me, no matter how inappropriate it might be or how much he might despise it, I threw my arms around his neck, squeezing tight, hard enough to push back against the hollow he’d somehow carved into my chest. His sodden clothes were freezing against my bare arms, and he stiffened beneath me, but I didn’t care. He needed this. He needed the comfort of knowing he wasn’t alone. I didn’t know exactly why he needed it, but I’d figure that out later. Right now, all that mattered was that he was close to someone, even if that someone was me.
I don’t hate you.
I screwed my eyes shut against his chest. “I don’t hate you either. It’ll be okay, Idris. I promise, one day, everything will be okay.”
How could it be? How could my words bring comfort when I didn’t even know if they were true? But Idris sagged against me, all the tension draining from his hard muscles. His arms wrapped me up so completely that there was nothing but his warmth seeping through our chilled skin, and the blinding beat of pain pulsing from him to me. A second, poisoned heartbeat.
How had this happened? How had I wandered away from the dancing and the music, only to end up here, with him? How had he gone from such blatant hostility to broken in my arms in only a few glasses of wine?
With his massive arms crushing me against him, I could barely move, but I stroked my fingertips through the wet hair at the nape of his neck.
With the rustle of feathers and the shifting of a hoof in the grass, Saeth leaned against Idris, gently pushing him upright. The angle shifted, and though he towered above me, he curled, enveloping me, his cheek pressed against mine. His ribs expanded and deflated with shallow yet desperate breaths, much like mine did when I was trying to hold my tears at bay.
I wouldn’t be the first to break this contact, not when I suspected he was in desperate need of it.
“I want you to make me a promise,” I whispered in his ear.
He stiffened again. I knew what he dreaded, and I longed to say it anyway. To demand that he never let this pain get the better of him. To insist that he struggle through, every day, for eternity. I wanted to scream at him to agree to my demands, but I couldn’t. I had to start small. If I was going to help him, as my soul insisted, I had to tiptoe.
“No flying tonight, okay?”
He had me pressed so close that I felt him gulp. A few heartbeats later, his cheek rasped against mine as he gave a brief nod.
I smiled weakly. It was a start. One night, one day, one step at a time.