5. Keira
I am caged and dragged through towns and treetop villages for a second day, then a third.
I craft an air wield that hugs my body like a second skin, something Rainier taught me in a few stolen moments.
It absorbs the impact of the rotten fruit they throw at me and causes most of the rancid flesh to roll off it.
I try to hold my chin high and straighten my spine, but each time I am paraded through a hostile village, the mounting abuse gets harder to bear.
Suddenly the sneers of all those bitter high fae crowding around us in this small treehouse settlement fill my vision. The hatred in their eyes is like a physical blow. Their shouts bounce around inside my head: insults about weak, powerless humans who have no place in this realm.
I do not cower. I will not.
It is not I who deserves their ire.Who deserves to be the scapegoat to blame for their crumbling world and the downfall of the king who has never stopped trying to save them.
I tell myself all of this, but it doesn’t help emotions crowding in.
The utter despair that the Spring Court fae may never accept us as their rulers, despite all the sacrifices we make for them. The fear that we have failed before we start, because Titania has been left to rule unchecked for far too long.
My throat tightens until I choke on the minimal air wheezing in and out.
My lungs seize up and I can no longer draw anything in.
I close my eyes and drown in the blackness behind their lids, those screaming taunts intensifying.
When I open them, all I can see are faces twisted with resentment.
The impact of the rotten fruit no longer hurts my flesh, but it leaves a mark on my soul.
Focus on me, dear heart, Aldrin rumbles through my mind. Block the rest of them out and focus only on me.
I can’t keep doing this, I admit. I can’t handle it anymore.
You can. You will, Aldrin urges. The thing you don’t realize is that you are already doing it. You are more worthy than any of them. The strongest woman I have met in both realms. These fae do not deserve for you to save them from the rot, and they definitely do not deserve your pain.
I tremble, clutching his essence like a lifeline, thankful for the way he pushes aside his own rage and fear to make an oasis for me.
The faces around me blur as I refuse to acknowledge them.
As I go somewhere else entirely with Aldrin.
Outwardly, I am the image of regal calm. Inside, I am crumbling.
Remember to breathe, he says soothingly, caressing a hand down my spine that feels so real. Follow me. Take a long breath in through your nose. Hold it in and count with me. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Let it out nice and slow through your mouth. Keira. You need to breathe.
I try to do as he says, to be strong for him, but it is so hard to drag in air.
I only manage shallow gasps at first, then draw out each breath.
The ghosts of Aldrin’s hands are on my shoulders, massaging the bunched-up muscles until the tension leaches from them bit by bit.
My heart rate slows and the fears recede as my magic dances within me, a reminder that I can defend myself; I just choose not to in this moment.
I am so sick of diminishing myself to make others feel big.To keep myself safe.
It brings me right back to the trauma of Finan’s court.
It won’t always be this way, and when I unleash myself upon Titania and her inner circle, they will quiver under the might of my power and fury. But today is not that day.
I lean against Aldrin for the entire torment, unable to do it without his sturdy presence.
Physically, I stand alone in this cage, but our souls are together, intertwined.
My back is pressed against his chest and his arm is wrapped around my waist, his warmth bleeding into me and ensuring that I don’t freeze while drenched in rancid juices, even though he is on the other side of the realm.
It feels so real that at some level it must be.
Dusk finally falls upon us and the call is made to camp for the night.
My legs turn weak with relief. The litter-bearers give me just enough warning to grab the handle in the center of the platform before they lower my cage to the ground.
I cannot blame them for the way they jostle me, not when their limbs shake and they rub the pain from their arms and backs.
Not when they are as bruised, beaten and sticky as I am.
Within a heartbeat, they leave me without a word, reminding me of the clear distinction between our positions.
I find myself in a clearing beneath ancient magnolia trees with a canopy of huge pink flowers. Their petals are scattered in a carpet across the ground, falling among the moss and thick roots.
I sit in the center of my cage and watch as my fae captors move with busy purpose, setting up the camp.
There is an obvious divide between two factions of warriors.
One set wears a bronze-and-gold uniform over matching segmented armor, with that symbol of a branching tree, the same as Drake’s tattoo; I have discovered they are the Royal Guard, led by Jasper.
They were previously known as the King’s Guard before Aldrin was sent into exile and are the rightful protectors of the ruler who sits on the throne.
The second group is the Wildrose Guard from the garrison of Titania’s house, loyal to her family alone. They wear surcoats of black and silver, with the symbol of a wilted rose, over chainmail. These are the soldiers she brought to my realm to threaten my people.
It is while I analyze these two factions almost refusing to engage with each other that I see them.Figures moving within the shadows of the forest, darting between the trees.
My heart starts racing as I catch the glint of moonlight off swords and arrowheads. All around us, a force amasses, sneaking through the brush. A sizable one and clearly hostile.
Has an army of high fae civilians followed us from one of the towns, deciding they want me dead? Have they whipped themselves into a frenzy of bloodlust to challenge the will of their High Chancellor?
A sudden vivid image of being swarmed and torn apart by the mob fills my mind. Of being stabbed by dozens of blades all at once while I try to fight off impossible numbers alone. Would Titania try to protect her prize, or would such violent acts delight her?
My eyes dart through the inkiness of the woods, counting the number of that hidden force. My hands clench and unclench, wishing for my bow and arrows, or even a blade to defend myself with. Not even a stone is within my reach. I have nothing but the magic I must hesitate to use.
Those insurgents creep closer. Their silhouettes are humanoid, branches and leaves extending from them in the form of long locks of hair, spikes down arms and spines and atop heads as crowns.
Tree nymphs. Friends.
I smile, because I know just how fiercely devoted the low fae are to Aldrin. How they look to him for their salvation.
I do not alert Titania’s fae that the enemy is surrounding them. Why would I?
Their numbers gather within the darkness all around us, then dozens upon dozens of nymphs charge from the shadows, roaring and wielding swords raised high.
More spew from great rifts opening within the immense trunks, proving that this is their family grove and that these trees are linked to their heart-stones.
Their bodies are half flesh and half wood, with vines wrapping around torsos, branches cascading from hair and magnolia blossoms sprouting all over them.
Pure chaos breaks out in the camp as high fae run in different directions.
Some draw their swords and meet the attack, blades clashing and metal screeching.
Archers kneel in the center of their forces, releasing ash and iron arrows in volleys at the attackers.
Tents are crushed and boiling pots are knocked from cooking fires in the commotion.
I am like a sitting duck with violence erupting all around me. I have never been helpless in a battle before. But I don’t know which of Titania’s supporters is watching.
The bulky body of a high fae flies past my cage and I spin around to see what could have possibly tossed him like a doll.
The trees are animated, moving like many-tentacled monsters.
Their thick roots tear from the soil to whip and thrash, curling around charging guards and throwing them across the clearing, or lashing across the ground and taking their feet out from beneath them.
The sight is truly horrifying to behold, and beautiful in its own way—a graceful dance smiting my enemy, a constant rain of pink petals falling.
Teams of high fae take on the nymphs controlling the trees.
They harden the air around the attacking roots and branches for long enough to halt their movement, while others charge at the low fae with swords in hand or whip up localized storms to attack the nymphs.
I can’t help noticing they don’t use their earth magic.
There is no wrestling the control of trees away from the nymphs that are soul bonded to this grove.
I would have expected Titania to be screaming orders at her soldiers, demanding the deaths of her attackers, but she is nowhere to be seen. The coward is probably hiding and squandering a dozen of her finest fighters.
Shock ripples through me when my eyes land on Torin on the front line, fighting with a halo of guards around him and a sword that blazes with blue fire. I assumed he would hide behind his mother’s skirts.
A dozen high fae fighters race for me, their gold emblems of the ancient tree shimmering in the moonlight.
“Don’t worry, my queen, we will keep you safe.” Jasper leans near the bars and throws the words over his shoulder before taking a defensive stance. He barks a few orders, arranging his warriors around my cage.