9. Chapter 9
Plop…
Plop plop…
Plop…
Hot liquid dripped down her arm on the smooth ground below. She plodded toward a light in the distance, her feet dragging. Someone was waiting for her. Her arm pulsed; the pain traveled inward, searing her. She clutched her chest, gasping.
Yareli woke with her hand on her breastbone. She stared at the unfamiliar brown ceiling. Her breathing was heavy, coming fast, and her damp shirt clung to her skin.
“Hey,” a familiar voice said.
Startled, she pushed away from the edge of the bed, pressing against the wall. The Fae from before stood in front of her. His white locs had been swept back into a ponytail, revealing his sculpted high cheeks. He held his hands up.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Who are you?” Yareli’s voice cracked.
He frowned, and she had a sinking feeling they might have already had this conversation before.
“My memory… it’s messed up. I can’t remember things very well, and things come and go.” Shame burned her cheeks.
Scar-face had broken something in her.
“Did he look at your memories?”
Yareli nodded.
He cursed, and she flinched.
“It’s not your fault. Mental magic has its risks. Don’t worry. It’s not always permanent. I have a friend…”
She ceased listening. It hadn’t crossed her mind that her ailment may be permanent, and the thought was terrifying.
It wasn’t that all her memories were gone.
Although jumbled like a tossed salad, she could recall most of them.
Missing faces, faces on the wrong bodies, missing objects, fleeting understandings, veiled memories.
A pervading sense of wrongness hung over them.
To test herself, she would think of objects.
For example, she could remember what an airplane was two out of five times.
She would sometimes mix it up with a car.
But there were three things she didn’t forget: her name, Scar-face, and that she was decidedly human.
The white-haired Fae waved his hand in front of her face, drawing her attention back to him. “Everything okay?”
No, she thought. Everything was not okay.
“Can you remind me of your name again?”
“I’m Leo.” He had a friendly smile, but his eyes held a pitying look, pushing Yareli away.
She wanted to tell him to stop looking at her like that.
It’s not my fault I’m like this. It was your kind who did this to me.
To demand that he fix her somehow. To make her whole once more.
She held her tongue; if she spoke up, would Leo’s behavior change?
No, she couldn’t risk him turning against her.
From that moment onward, Yareli followed his instructions.
When he reintroduced Bri, his loyal lieutenant with a sharp tongue, Yareli smiled and thanked her for her help.
Except, she didn’t trust them. Their pointed ears, blemish-free skin, and pretty faces reminded her of their differences—her human, them Fae.
After a few weeks, she regained enough strength to wander in Leo’s sizable cottage, but she couldn’t go past the yard unaccompanied.
She smelled human, and she was told many creatures in the forest wouldn’t mind a taste.
At first, she was all right with it, spending her time sleeping.
Bri and Leo had both healed what they could, but they had warned her that her internal injuries needed time and rest. So, she rested.
And rested until she caught up on her sleep, and the days became long.
She’d wake up alone, wander around the cottage, and work through her memories.
Leo had mentioned it was vital that she keep sorting through them, because it would keep the wound fresh.
An open wound was easier to heal than a scar.
What Yareli didn’t admit was that it hurt.
Her mind understood their wrongness, and she could feel it trying to correct them.
It gave her a bad headache that she would sleep off.
It was after one of these naps that she encountered Leo sitting in an armchair in the living room.
“You’re awake,” he exclaimed, his face lighting up.
“When did you get here?” she asked.
“Not too long ago. Are you hungry? I made some sandwiches.”
He bounded for the kitchen and reappeared in a jiff with a platter in his hand.
Yareli thanked him, grabbed a sandwich, and sat across from him, munching away.
He smiled at her, and his attention returned to his documents on his lap.
The platter lay on the coffee table between them, available for her to take.
While Yareli was no longer as apprehensive as she had been the first two weeks, she was still careful.
Leo was a bundle of energy; it rolled off him in waves and followed every movement he made.
If he said good morning, it was a loud exclamation.
If he said good night, it was a long affair with many side stories.
She had the sneaking suspicion that he would hug her and kiss her cheeks if she weren’t standoffish.
If Yareli were to describe him, he would be a simmering pot, constantly churning through his emotions.
It wasn’t a bad thing—it was endearing, really.
It made it hard to maintain the distance between them.
It made it harder to ignore how handsome he was.
Although overwhelming, it was also reassuring.
It signaled sincerity in his actions. And it was this belief in his sincerity that encouraged her following question.
“Can you explain the courts?”
Izmari, the Fae realm, was an island divided into five courts. Leo had shared that she was in his home court in the southeastern corner, and that she was safe, but she was curious to learn more about the new world she inhabited.
He looked surprised, and she smiled awkwardly. She didn’t often initiate conversations.
“Of course!” The smile he gave her was almost blinding.
She looked away. How he wore his emotions so plainly on his sleeve was beyond her.
He dove into his explanation. “There are four island courts—Earth, Water, Air, and Fire—and the imperial court, Lumen. Each island court has an equal share of Izmari outside of Nuiwen, the capital city. The Lumen Court, presided over by the Fae Queen herself, resides in the capital.”
“Who heads the island courts?”
“A lord. It’s a generational, inherited position. At the time of Izmari’s founding, Queen Izmari had four loyal families, and thus, granted each of them a court. Their function is to ensure both the well-being of their citizens and Izmari.”
“And you? What court are you part of?”
“… I am the Third General of the Earth Court.”
Yareli’s mind whirled. Scar-face, whose real name was Tuom, was part of the Earth Court. Her hands became sticky, and she gripped the armchair. Was Leo in cahoots with him? Had her escape been some long-term psychological test? Was Tuom waiting outside the door to take her back to her cell?
“I know it looks bad.” Leo sat still, but he spoke rapidly. “But I’m not one of his minions. Tuom,” he said, spitting the name, “is far from my friend.”
Two sides of the same coin warred inside Yareli. To trust or not?
“Prove it,” she said, surprised at her tone—hard, unforgiving, and demanding.
“Here.” Leo floated documents over to her. “These are official communications between my scouts, who track Tuom’s movements, and me.”
Yareli picked the documents—surprisingly, they were written in English—out of the air one by one, scrutinizing their contents. She picked out relevant information: Tuom spending days away from the Earth Court mansion, Tuom’s visits to Endrim—the acting Lord.
“Why are you monitoring him?”
“I believe he is acting against the Earth Court’s best wishes.”
She raised an eyebrow. “By doing what?”
“Swaying political power into Endrim’s hands and away from our ailing father.
” Leo paused. “He’s my brother, and the Great Tree knows I wish to trust in him, but there have been too many coincidences in the past few years that I cannot overlook any longer.
My sister, Agatha, and I have been the stopper, preventing his consolidation of power.
We don’t understand his ambition. He’s our future lord. ”
If he was the heir, then Tuom being his confidant raised concerns. Yareli had a feeling Endrim’s views on humans were similar to Tuom’s.
Deciding to trust Leo, she leveled her gaze at him. “Is it safe here?”
“This is my private residence,” he replied, his tone even, finally without a trace of his excessive energy. “No one may come without my permission.”
She knew he wished to reassure her, but worry took root in her stomach. If something were to happen to him, what would she do? An idea came to her, unfurling like a flower bud until the words slipped out of her mouth.
“Train me.”
If she was destined to live her days out in a hostile land, then she had to learn to survive.