39. I Won’t Be Doing Any Of That
This isn’t Idris.
Darkness pressed in, forcing the air from my lungs, and all I could think was that it wasn’t Idris dragging me through empty space. It wasn’t Idris’ hand crushed against my face, hard enough that I thought my nose might break. It wasn’t Idris’ body pressed against my back, or his arm like a vice around my middle.
The air lightened, making my body seem as weightless as a bubble, but the darkness remained. Most of it, anyway. My knees buckled, trying to throw me, retching, to the ground, but my captor had no intention of releasing me. They hauled me along, seemingly unaffected by the teleportation, heedless of my useless legs. The toes of my hiking boots dragged along the ground.
Fight.
I couldn’t. I wanted to, but teleporting robbed me of my faculties at the best of times. I was as useless as a newborn calf, stolen from its mother and headed to slaughter. I tried to suck in a breath, but the hand clamped over my face blocked my airways with unyielding strength. The ache in my chest grew. It wasn’t from teleporting at all. I was suffocating.
As though that knowledge was the code to rebooting my body, I twisted, grappling at the stranger’s hand. I raked my nails over skin, earning myself a hiss against my ear. I kicked with all my strength, driving my heel back, hoping to find a kneecap. I made contact, for all the good it did me.
My eyes began to adjust to the darkness, even as the edges of my vision clouded. A thin, arching line of light appeared ahead. The pearly gates? The end of the tunnel? Should I stay away from the light, or rush toward it? I had no choice in the matter.
My captor twisted, throwing their weight against the dark in the middle of the arch. Blinding light erupted all around me as I was dragged into its centre.
“You found her!”
I didn’t know that delighted voice, nor could I see its owner, blinded as I was.
“It was only a matter of time before the stupid bitch showed up.” I didn’t know the male’s voice that sounded in my ear, either.
“Maelgwyn won’t be happy if you kill her.” The female drawled, completely unperturbed.
“I haven’t harmed a hair on her head.”
“No, but she’s suffocating.”
With a shove, I crashed to the floor. Air, warm, blessed air filled my lungs, seeping into the swirling desperation of my mind. I gave myself over to a fit of coughing, sucking down rasping breaths in between. Breath by breath, my senses sharpened.
My hands braced against a cracked, marble floor. Light gleamed off the shiny surface. My skin was sticky with sweat. Heat or fear?
Maelgwyn had been mentioned. Was I in Tir o Haf?
I lifted my eyes.
The room I’d landed in wasn’t large by castle standards, but my entire human house could have fit snuggly inside it. One long wall was lined with enormous windows, but the others bore doorways, firmly closed. Which one had I come through? Which one would lead me out? A gallery overlooked the room, and a fireplace stood empty below it. And before the hearth was an enormous, sturdy table carved of dark stone. It was there that a fae female lounged in her seat, her booted feet propped on the table amongst a mess of plates and cups. She grinned when she caught me staring.
“Welcome, Human Queen. We’ve been expecting you.” There was nothing welcoming about her tone, if my method of arrival hadn’t been indication enough. My already flushed skin prickled with unease.
“Where am I?” I demanded, sounding braver than I felt. I pushed myself to my feet, swaying on my hollow legs. Nausea coated my tongue. “What do you want?”
“Me?” She pointed at her own chest, mock surprise lighting up her flawless face. “Oh, honey, I just want to get paid.”
“Hey, I found her!” the second voice, belonging to my captor, barked out behind me. I jumped. I’d almost forgotten he was there. I edged sideways, bringing him into my peripheral vision, where I could keep an eye on him. The world swayed alarmingly with that tiny movement. “I’m the one who’s been waiting in that shithole for weeks. It’s my reward!”
“Relax, Hari,” the female drawled. “We’ll all get paid for this prize.” She rose gracefully to her feet. She was short by fae standards, probably an exact match in height to me. Not that I laboured under any illusions of taking her in a fight.
“Where did you find her?” she shot the question at my captor.
“The other side of the Blood Gate,” he grunted. “I had to wait on her side. The vermin have been getting bold lately.”
“I was going home.” The words spilled out in a rush. “I wasn’t going to help the princes or try to steal the throne or anything. I just wanted to go back to my world.”
“But you did help the princes,” the female crooned. “You woke them from the curse. King Maelgwyn isn’t pleased with you.”
My insides turned to ice cold liquid.
“In fact,” she continued. “Somebody should let him know of your arrival.”
“I’ll do it,” Hari snarled. “I found her. I’ll be the one to tell him.”
“Oh, I thought you’d want to deliver her to the dungeons.”
Dungeons? I couldn’t go to any dungeons. My eyes darted to the doors. There was no telling where they led, but anything had to be better than whatever Maelgwyn had in store for me.
“I’ll do both!”
Was I faster than a fae? Probably not. Would Maelgwyn care if a blade or arrow lodged itself into my fleeing back? He’d probably be irritated, but not as pissed off as he’d be if I escaped. I was dead either way. My heart hammered in my ears. I had to try. I’d come so close to freedom. I couldn’t simply accept this twist of fate.
“He won’t appreciate the delay.”
I ran.
A shout echoed around the room as I hurtled toward the nearest door. My feet pounded the marble, the impact jarring up my shins, but my footsteps weren’t the only ones. I barely slowed my pace as I reached for the latch, throwing my momentum against the door.
It didn’t budge.
No.
I shoved, jangling the latch, but the door remained unmoving. The thundering footsteps closed in, and I shrank, sliding my back against the door. Both fae approached, glowering. The male held a sword. It was useless. There was no way out.
“Nice try,” the male growled.
He swung his arm. The metal hilt of his sword collided with my temple.
Darkness swallowed me up again.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
A dull, throbbing beat of pain filled my skull, pulsing from one side to the other with growing insistence. I stirred, trying to get comfortable, but when I rolled, I didn’t find a soft spot of pillow, or a squishy bit of mattress. Just cold, hard stone.
My eyes snapped open.
Memories came rushing back. The Fairy Glen. Idris leaving. My kidnapper. Talk of a dungeon. My attempted escape.
Gripping my pounding head, I struggled up from the floor. Gone was the cool, smooth marble, replaced by dark, dusty slabs of rock. This was no grand room. A hint of light leaked through thick metal barring a tiny slit of a window, set high in one wall. A bigger set of bars loomed opposite, and through them, eyes stared back at me.
I scrambled back against the wall. I didn’t know if the pale monster I’d glimpsed could break through metal, but I wasn’t about to take any chances.
“I see you have returned to the land of the living.” The voice that drifted to me was hoarse and scratchy, but otherwise… normal. It didn’t sound like a monster, but I’d long since learnt that monsters could speak pretty words and hide behind beautiful shells.
I peered through the gloom, trying to make out my companion beyond a pale shape and bright eyes. There was nothing beautiful about this particular shell. The creature was taller than I was, but hunched, like an old man. Maybe it was an old man, and I’d simply grown so accustomed to everyone being eternally young and beautiful that the sight of sagging, waxy skin and gnarled hands took me by surprise. A few wisps of shoulder length, white hair clung to a papery scalp, catching the faint light like a halo.
“Who are you?” I called, my voice high and quivering.
“Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Maelgwyn, king of the fae courts. And you, I take it, believe yourself to be the long-awaited Human Queen?”
Oh God. This was bad. Things couldn’t get much worse.
Despite the tremor of fear that crept down my spine, I blinked in surprise. After all I’d heard about the dreaded King Maelgwyn, wielder of forbidden magical power, and unchallenged conqueror, to be faced with such a shrivelled old man was rather anticlimactic. Still, I would be a fool to be deceived by such harmless appearances. I knew what he had done to his nephews. I’d seen the beasts he’d created and sent after me. It was a wonder I was alive at all.
Which begged the question, why was I alive?
“I’m not a queen,” I answered, trying to inject some confidence into my voice. “I don’t want any trouble. I just want to go home.”
Maelgwyn shuffled closer to the bars, his bright, watery eyes roving over me. I forced myself not to shy away.
“Undoubtedly. And yet, you have, inadvertently I’m sure, created trouble for me. You broke my curse, did you not?”
Even now, locked in a cell at the mercy of an evil sorcerer, I couldn’t bring myself to regret my actions. Idris deserved to be free. He deserved a chance to be happy. I didn’t much care about Anwir’s happiness, but even he didn’t deserve to be cursed. Well, maybe just a small curse…
“I didn’t have a choice,” I admitted, deciding honesty might be the best policy. “I was told it was the only way to open the rifts. All I ever wanted was to leave this place.”
“My dear woman, you were deceived.”
I knew that now. I’d been deceived at every turn.
“By breaking my curse, you forever removed the option of leaving.”
Oh. That didn’t sound good. My pulse quickened, and with it, so did the beat of pain in my head.
“You see,” Maelgwyn continued, wrapping his skeletal fingers around the bars, “the prophecy of your coming was only ever a story. A possibility. It could have applied to any unwitting human to walk through the rifts, or none at all. By waking my dear nephews, you set its predictions into action. You cannot stop it now. It is an avalanche. It will gain momentum, gathering speed until it is fulfilled. She was destined to rid evil from my bloodline. You might have opened those tombs, looked upon the princes, and walked away, unscathed. But by waking them, by casting the first stone, you made yourself the Human Queen. There can be nobody else. And now, as long as you live, the throne belongs to you. It will answer to no other, waiting for you to rid the world of… well, me. I think it”s safe to assume that our dear Queen Claudia foresaw my coming, as well as yours. I’m sure you see what a tricky situation you have created.”
I gulped. As long as I live? I didn’t like where this little chat was headed.
“You have two options, my dear. The first is rather unsavoury, but should your life be snuffed out, the throne will be mine again. I’m sure you can see why that might appeal to me, though I imagine you are less than thrilled at the prospect. Your second option is marriage.”
Marriage, or death. I wasn’t sure which was worse, especially as I was certain he didn’t want me to go ahead with my impending nuptials to Anwir.
“Marriage?” I whispered.
“As my wife, you and I could rule together.” His fingers tightened on the bars. “Through you, the throne would accept me. Nobody could stand against me, not even my nephews. Through me, you would be allowed to live.”
God, what a match. What an offer. I took in his face. The sagging brow, the waxy, translucent skin, almost like baking paper. The watery, drooping eyes. The bald pate. The sad wilt of the pointed tips of his ears, collapsing in on themselves like floppy little pizza slices. I’d never seen an elderly fae, but it wasn’t age that had ravaged his body. It was magic. He had pushed the limits. Delved into darkness. He had done this to himself. But it wasn’t any of that which had me recoiling. It was the soul hiding within. Maelgwyn had ordered the death of Idris’ son. He had forced Idris to watch. He was the reason that my friend was hollow and broken. He was the cause of the agony that had flowed straight into my heart on the night of the ball, raw and consuming.
“I would rather die,” I hissed.
I meant it, but that didn’t mean I was brave. My heart thundered sickeningly as I spoke the words, coating my skin in cold sweat. Maelgwyn didn’t care; he had no qualms. He’d said it himself, my death appealed to him. Well, let him have it. I would never marry him. I would not share a throne, however unwanted, with such a beast.
Maelgwyn straightened, his hands falling to his side. “Very well. I shall order the arrangements. But know this, human. This chance will not be given again. When I walk away, I take my offer with me.”
“Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”
I almost groaned at my cliché comeback, but given the circumstances, I couldn’t be expected to be at my wittiest.
Maelgwyn glowered, leaving without another word. I rushed to my bars, pressing my face against the rough metal to watch the king’s progress. For all his sagging skin, he walked with the grace of a man in his prime, with not even a hint of doddering. There was something unnerving about the clash of his appearance against whatever strength lurked beneath. Before long, the gloomy corridor swallowed him up, leaving me alone.
I sagged against the bars.
I’d chosen death, but I wasn’t actually going to die, was I? The very idea of it was ridiculous. I was a young woman, in her prime, fit and healthy and strong. Okay, so I preferred pasta to salad, and the gym and I did not get along, but I had years, decades, before that became a problem. I couldn’t die.
Somebody would come for me.
Somehow, someone would realise I’d been taken, and they’d rescue me. They all owed me a favour, except maybe Idris or Pansy. I didn’t care who came. The witches, Jacques, even Anwir. Somebody. Anybody.
They were coming for me.
Nobody was coming for me.
Down in the dark, I had no idea how many days had passed since Maelgwyn’s proposal, but I knew I was starving. The last meal I’d eaten had been the one Idris and I had shared in the mountainside cave. Since then, my stomach seemed to have caved in on itself. My entire midsection ached, as did my head. There’d been no water either, but I’d found a drip in the corner of my cell. At first, I’d refused to touch it, afraid of what it might be and where it might have come from. I’d seen enough bodily fluids to have a healthy respect for unknown liquids. But before long, desperation had driven me to hold out my tongue, waiting for droplets to fall.
Maybe Maelgwyn was planning to leave me to die of dehydration. I could see no reason why the fae rules about killing blood relatives should extend to me, especially when Idris had said it only applied to his family, but maybe it applied to the rightful ruler too. Maybe he was simply being careful. It was strange to think that somewhere a throne awaited me, refusing to accept any arse but mine. I was a queen, and yet I’d never felt less like royalty than I did huddled in my cell, waiting to die.
Because nobody was coming for me.
I was alone.