Chapter 19 #2
Sylvian picks up the story, not to be outdone.
“Earth fae didn’t build their castle. They grew it.
From a sapling, maybe, or a seed, no one really knows.
The walls are alive, the roots thicker than Oberon’s thigh.
There’s moss everywhere, and the flowers never stop blooming.
In spring, the whole place smells like honey and sunlight.
There are tunnels under the floors, made by bugs or time or children with nothing better to do.
It’s loud. There’s always birds, or wind, or kids running.
But when the doors shut, it’s the quietest place in the world. ”
He leans back, smiling. “If you’re ever there in the morning, watch for the way the dew beads up on the leaves. It’s like the whole castle is sweating out its dreams. We have other castles, less impressive ones, like the one you saw, but that’s my home.”
Ashton goes next. “Wind fae don’t have a real castle, not like you’re thinking.
It’s high on a mountain with shifting bridges you use to climb up it.
It’s white marble and silver, maybe, but mostly empty space.
The halls are open, always full of light, and the wind whistles through every crack.
You can stand at the edge of a balcony and see the world for a hundred miles.
Or jump off, if you’re brave. The wind will catch you, sometimes.
Sometimes it lets you fall if you wish it. ”
He pauses, then grins. “If you ever want to know what it’s like to fly, go there. Just don’t expect a soft landing.”
Oberon is last. He’s quiet at first, then, “Fire fae live in a black fortress, carved straight into a mountain. The stone never cools, not even at night. The walls glow, orange and red, from the rivers of lava running underneath. It smells like ash and sweat and molten metal. Every room has a fire, not for warmth, but for pride. For proof. Even the children can start a flame with nothing but a look.”
He shrugs. “It isn’t pretty. But you always know where you stand.”
I let the images settle. I try to picture each place, the sounds and the smells, the way each of them would feel as a home.
Sylvian bumps his shoulder against mine. “You ever think about visiting?”
I smile, but it’s a weak thing. “All I ever thought was that I wanted to run from the fae as fast as possible.”
He looks at me, serious for once. “You still do?”
I don’t have an answer for that.
Cassius clears his throat. “The castle we were in, where you met us, it’s not one of the old ones. In neutral territory. The four courts have met there for centuries, trying to work out how to fix…” He trails off, gestures vaguely at the air. “Everything.”
“Do you think things will ever get better between the fae?” I ask.
The question hangs in the air.
Oberon grunts. “Doubtful. Too many grudges. Too much blood.”
“I’ve thought about it. A lot,” Cassius says.
Ashton adds, “Me too. Not that I’ve come up with any great ideas.”
Silence settles again, heavier this time, but different. Not hopeless. Yet.
Cassius exhales slowly. “Before… I never cared if it got better. The courts could burn each other to ash for all I cared. It didn’t bother me.” His gaze flicks to me, then away, like the admission costs him something. “Now it does.”
Oberon huffs under his breath, but there’s no real bite to it. “Peace would require trust. No one trusts anyone.”
“They could,” Ashton says quietly. “If there were something… binding. Not a treaty. Those break.” His brow furrows, thinking. “Something enforced. Something all four courts would have to honor.”
“A shared interest,” Cassius adds. “Something they all need enough to protect.”
Oberon crosses his arms. “You’re talking about forcing unity.”
“I’m talking about giving them a reason to stop tearing each other apart,” Cassius says, sharper now. “There’s a difference.”
My gaze moves between them, something strange stirring in my chest. Hope.
It’s not that I necessarily care that much about what happens to the fae.
I do a little. It’s more so that I care what happens to them.
I hate the idea of me leaving and these four just going back to hating each other.
Alone. Without families, when they could have a family in each other.
They notice me watching, and for a moment, none of them look away.
I look at each of them in turn. “When this is over, if we get out of here, I want you to promise you’ll try. That you’ll try to fix things between your people. That you’ll try to fix things between each other. Because I know you’re lonely, but you wouldn’t be lonely if you were together.”
None of them promise, but they say they’ll consider it. It’s as much as I’ll get.
Sylvian stretches his legs out, bumping my foot. “You know, it would be easier if you stayed with us.”
I blink. “What?”
He winks. “If you stay, peace is almost guaranteed. You’d have to choose one of our sides. And no one wants to go to war with a woman who can kill monsters and outsmart four princes.”
I laugh. “I’ll consider it,” I say, throwing their words right back at them.
All four men smile.
The hay is itchy, but it beats sitting on raw stone.
I lean back, let the musty warmth sink into my shirt, and try to make sense of what Sylvian said about me and peace and “staying.” What would that life even be like?
Once they were around the other fae, the other beautiful women, would I just become a forgotten plaything to them?
Somehow, I think that’d be worse than being alone.
“It’s strange,” I say quietly.
They all look at me.
I stare at my hands, turning them over like they might tell me something I don’t already know.
“When I agreed to lead you through the labyrinth… I didn’t care about any of this.
Not peace. Not the courts. Not any of you.
” I huff out a breath, something almost like a laugh. “I didn’t even want anything.”
Cassius’s brow furrows. “You asked for something.”
I nod. “A life.”
The word lands heavy.
“A fae’s life,” I add, softer now. “That was it. That was all I wanted. Not power. Not gold. Not safety.” My throat tightens. “Just that.”
Oberon shifts slightly. “That’s not a small thing to ask for.”
“No,” I say. “It’s not.”
Ashton studies me. “And now?”
I swallow. “Now you’re sitting here talking about peace between the fae, and I…” I shake my head, like I can’t quite make sense of it. “I don’t even recognize the person who made that deal. Or maybe I do, and that’s worse.”
Cassius’s voice is quieter now. “The fae you chose. The one you want dead.” His gaze holds mine. “Why them?”
The room feels smaller.
Sylvian leans forward slightly, his usual teasing gone. “You never told us.”
Oberon’s voice is low, steady. “You don’t ask for a life without a reason.”
My chest tightens. I could lie. I could brush it off. But I don’t. I don’t want to.
The memory is already there, clawing its way up.
Closing my eyes, I try to ignore the flashing images that appear behind my eyelids. I feel the men drawing closer, and their presence, for some reason, calms something inside of me. Makes it easier to speak.
“I was six,” I start, and my voice is paper.
“My mother and I were foraging near the edge of the forest. We weren’t supposed to go so close to the fae border, but she said the best mushrooms grew there.
She was right, but I didn’t care. I was just a kid.
I decided it’d be more fun to hide in the bushes and see if my mom could find me. ”
Something found my mom instead.
I force the rest out. “A fae man appeared through the veil. She barely had time to scream before he sent his bare hand through her chest and ate her heart. Right in front of me. I could hear it, even when I covered my ears. I tried not to look, but I saw everything. The way his face smeared with her blood. The way her face never changed. The way my mother’s smiling face went from alive and healthy, to horrific pain, to nothing. ”
Taking a shaky breath, I continue, “I waited until it was dark, until I was sure he was gone, and then I went home. My life was changed forever by a monstrous fae. They buried what was left of her, but the rest of my life, every time I close my eyes, I see it.”
The silence after my story is thicker than the stone that surrounds us. My eyes burn, but I don’t want to cry in front of them. I rub my face hard, trying to rub away the urge to sob.
“It’s okay though. I’m fine,” I say. “It was a long time ago.”
Sylvian’s voice is rough. “You’re not fine. No one would be fine after that.”
Ashton is staring at the floor, fists clenched. “Do you remember what he looked like?”
I shake my head. “It was dark. Just… tall, and the eyes. Blue. Brighter than the sky.”
Oberon says, “There’s a fae who does that. Eats hearts. He’s not right in the head. The other courts exiled him, but he wanders, sometimes, near the border.”
Cassius nods. “Jarrah.”
The name lands like a hammer.
“Is that him?” I whisper.
Oberon’s jaw tightens. “Probably. He’s been at it for centuries. He’s never gotten caught, because he’s too smart. He likes it, the hunt.”
I close my hands into fists. “I’ll kill him when this is done. I don’t care what happens after.”
There’s a pulse in the room, a shared current of violence. The men are all bristling, but it isn’t at me.
Sylvian says, “We’ll help you. All of us.”
Cassius adds, “He’ll die screaming.”
Ashton leans in, eyes fierce. “He won’t ever hurt you again.”
I can’t speak, not at first. The warmth in my chest is so sharp it’s almost painful.
“You don’t have to—” I try.
Oberon squeezes my shoulder. “We want to.”
It’s the first time in my life I believe it, that I’m not alone with the old nightmare. That someone else wants vengeance as much as I do. And it feels good. Better.
Is this what it feels like to have people share the emotional load?
I wipe my face again and find it wet. “I used to think all fae were like that. Monsters. But…” I look at each of them, and my voice cracks. “You’re not.”
Sylvian gives me a lopsided smile. “We try.”
Ashton tilts his head. “Maybe you’re the monster, now. Making us feel things. Making us care.”
The laugh that escapes me is ugly, but it’s real. I feel better than I have in years, even with the pain still raw inside me.
We sit in the light of the torches, pressed together, and the walls don’t feel as close. The memory is still there, but it’s smaller, less sharp, like the edge has been worn down by sharing it.
I glance at the window and wonder if my mother would have liked these men. I think she would. I think she’d be proud that I’m not alone.
I look back at them. “Thank you,” I say, and I mean it.
Oberon ruffles my hair. Sylvian leans his head on my shoulder, and Ashton pretends to be offended he wasn’t first. Cassius just watches me, his eyes full of promise.
I think, for the first time, that I might belong somewhere.
Even if it’s in a cell. Even if it’s with four fae princes and a thousand ghosts. Especially then.