Page 118 of Curse the Fae

Lark and I swap knowing grins. Our bookish sibling is bursting at the seams, a hundred questions battling for dominance on her tongue. To begin with, she’ll want to know the origins of this place. Generally, she prefers to research in chronological order.

She takes in every scrap of detail about the vista while Puck whispers in her ear, making her playfully elbow him in the ribs. That is, until Elixir’s shadow casts over my petite sister. He takes his place in the circle, armed with his forked daggers and his limbs now clad in leggings, both of which he’d stored at the waterway’s landing.

His movements draw all of us. After a quick glance toward the place where I perch across from him, he clears his throat. First to Puck: “When I mentioned whether you had come to take revenge, I was not talking to you.” Then to Juniper. “I am sorry.”

My sister, being the practical sort—who values assertiveness over waxing poetic—appreciates his inclined head. Even more, the simplicity of his apology wrings approval from her eyes.

She nods back, then remembers he can’t see the gesture. “I accept.”

“Then state your retribution,” Elixir prompts.

Heads veer between them. My sister blinks, not having expected this offering. It’s neither a bargain nor a trick.

After a moment, fortitude rinses away the haze of indecision, and my sister’s face narrows in thought. That she silently consults Puck is a pleasure to witness, the final confirmation that she’s found an equal partner.

“Here we go,” Lark predicts, and I agree.

“They say you see what others can’t,” Juniper begins.

“They say many things,” Elixir answers.

“Spoken like a quintessential Fae.”

“Ah, but humbleness doesn’t become him,” Cerulean tells my sister. “Lack of vision has attuned Elixir to sense acutely what’s occurring inside us, from our blood to our heart rates.” Those midnight eyes dash toward his brother, and Cerulean quirks a single brow. “Isn’t that a fact?”

Elixir’s pupils click in my direction, and my blood spikes. “Sometimes,” he and I mutter in unison, because while it’s true, I’m no longer susceptible to his sensory power.

“My point is this,” Juniper persists. “As the ruler of this land, and as one who sees beneath the surface, my price for forgiveness is simple: Join with us.”

“Join with you,” Elixir inquires, his brows snapping together. “In what capacity?”

“Reformation,” Cerulean supplies. “A mutiny of sorts.”

“Another word for it is anarchy,” Puck inserts.

Hope lifts my shoulders. “To what end?”

“Possibly death,” Puck remarks. “Starting with disorder, leading to upheaval, and resulting in potential war between mortals and Faeries. That is, if opposing sides can’t come to an agreement, or if we fail to unravel a Fabled mystery. We’re not sure yet. Though, our band did predict having a much shittier time convincing you.”

Juniper sets her hand on the satyr’s tanned arm. “History says the way to restore the fauna and save your world is by human sacrifice.” She draws herself up, ambition cementing in her voice. “But there’s a second way.”

Elixir’s head snaps toward me. At the same instant, mine swings his way.

My sisters and their loves have discovered an alternative. There’s indeed another way to salvage the lost fauna and preserve the Solitary wild, after all. This is what Elixir and I had been scavenging The Deep for.

I’d told my sisters about this crusade in the chamber, yet they hadn’t said anything, maybe because they’d been pacing themselves.

Elixir’s eyes blaze with uncertainty. “A second way.”

“Truly?” I ask Juniper. “How?”

“I found it myself,” she declares with a rise of her pert chin.

“Show-off,” Lark and Puck say affectionately.

At which point, a stream of information pours from Juniper’s mouth about the original Book of Fables and how she’d come into its possession, which has to do with a male centaur named Cypress, a friend of hers and Puck’s.

Juniper narrates her discovery of a Fable that includes a hidden message, the secret missive crafted by one of the ancient scribes who’d penned the book. Then Juniper recites the message from memory.

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