Page 12 of Curse the Fae

The words from our turbulent past, from so many years ago, come surging to the forefront. Speaking of our mutual history, I muster what remains of my courage. “If you recall, I’m not as frail and defenseless as you think.”

The Fae reacts just as he did in the shark pool, when I’d accused him of not changing. He releases my hair and burrows closer, so that it’s a miracle I hold myself steady. Then he tips his nose down at me, and his words abrade my skin. “Let me remind you of one vital fact, mortal. In that pool, you were almost torn apart.”

“I think not. The sharks became too alarmed by you to bother with me.”

“I was not talking about the sharks.”

That evokes the vision of his forked daggers. I suppose exercising my tongue during our battle had distracted him and spared me an untimely death at his hands. That is, after he’d realized the impotency of his greatest weapon. “Why did you try to blind me?”

“Why did you resist?” he demands.

At last, we’ve come full circle, though it’s hardly a comfort. I shake my head, unsure of what this creature wants to hear. I’d already told him I don’t know how or why I resisted. But if I ever discover the reason, I won’t divulge that information. He must be aware of that.

The Fae’s wayward gaze hops across my countenance, questing, probing.

My family says I have a gift for empathy. I’ve never confessed to them it’s not a gift. To the contrary, it’s my redemption. Yet even with an enemy, the sensitive side of me takes the bait. Maybe it’s the way his eyes lurch from one side of me to the other, looking for a place to settle, a place to land.

Again, the raw and inexplicable urge to care worms into my gut. My fingers scale toward his face, about to trace a hazardous path along his eyelids. My voice thins to a whisper. “How did this happen?”

The Fae flinches, sensing my intentions. Surprise crinkles through his eyebrows—then his reptilian reflexes kick into motion. He snatches my wrist and extends my arm out to the side, all the while fixating on the general vicinity of my face.

I gasp as the peak of a fingercap nudges my skin, yet the ornament’s tip twitches with sudden indecision. Suspended like this, I wonder how often he experiences such a lapse.

His palm warms the pulse thudding against my flesh, which accelerates the longer he holds me like this. Intimidation and hostility clash. They produce a heady sensation, a disturbing and shameful rush that tightens below my navel. How I wish this feeling would go away.

Notwithstanding, my hatred inspires a bizarre sort of thrill. I can’t decide if I want to exercise my pity or unnerve him.

After a moment, his digits snap open to drop my arm. An invisible veil rolls down his face, further shrouded by his hood.

The Fae turns, his robe billowing and tossing shadows across the chamber. He seizes the door handle, his tendons bunching, and glances over his shoulder. His eyes swell with gold—the only bright thing about him. “I shall say this only once,” he warns. “Stay in this fucking room.”

Then he pounds from the chamber and shuts me inside.

“Fables,” I exhale, my breaths ejecting in short bursts.

It doesn’t matter if there’s no lock on the door. I think about the stepping-stones rising and sinking for him, the guard stationed at the jetty’s end, and a legion of Faeries beyond that. Yes, I could slink out and slip into the encircling lake, with the hopes of swimming out of here, provided the water isn’t infested with carnivorous sea creatures. Yet if I manage to locate a nearby escape route, there’s no guarantee I would survive this environment, its predators, or its residents. I could try finding an outlet despite the hazards, but only to the detriment of my sisters.

I’d been summoned here to play a game, in which not only my life hangs in the balance but theirs as well. Escaping this fate would hurt them.

All of us win—or none of us win.

There’s nowhere to flee. I’m marooned on this isle.

My knees quake. I buckle in place and wrap my arms around my stomach.

Tell me how you did it.

His words represent a dreaded truth, one that had dawned while the water Faeries surrounded me, and I’d beheld their vindictive expressions. If I think I’ve evaded their leader’s venom by resisting his magic, I’m wrong.

In fact, I’ve just made things worse for myself in this dark realm.

I’d rendered his power useless, and he’s going to make me pay for that. If he can’t penetrate me in one way, he will in others—harsher, more destructive ways that I haven’t begun to imagine.

5

A puddle gathers at my feet. I shiver in place, rub my arms, and inspect the room anew. Before arriving here, I had imagined being dunked in a cesspool or shackled in a dank cell littered with fishbones and reeking of mortal corpses.

This setting is an utter departure from what I’d expected. From the window recesses, lanterns fling tints of orange across the surfaces. The water basin froths, tendrils of steam coiling from within like some type of bathing tub. Silken sheets cover the bed, the textiles dyed a variety of blues and whites, from navy to seashell. If I weren’t a captive, I would call this space wondrous and tranquil, like something out of a mystical aquarium, where I’m a guest instead of a prisoner.

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