Page 127 of Curse the Fae

Thankfully, a figure with silvery blue hair hastens past the throng. Coral must have seen us coming because she’s carrying a pair of leggings. And coiled safely around her arm is a loving sight.

“Lotus!” I dash from the huddle and meet the guard halfway. “Lotus!”

The reptile scrolls from the female’s arm to mine, and I cradle my friend to my chest while gasping, “You’re all right.”

After accepting and donning the leggings, Elixir moves to stand behind me, visibly pleased to hear my relief. Coral inclines her head, her crystalline eyes having lost their luster. Blood has dried on her temple, her bronze skin is wan, and her billowing pants are shredded.

“The wee one must have sensed the incoming flood, because he was searching for you,” she tells me. “The splashing was unmistakable. I found him cutting through The Sunken Isle just before the water gushed in.”

She glances at Elixir. “Sire, I sought to alarm you, but The Pit of Vipers was empty apart for that coward, Scorpio, raiding your supplies. I tried to…” She huffs, clears her throat. “He fled before I could apprehend him, but I suspect he meant to impair you—” she slides her head toward me, “—or sabotage her. Be assured, I won’t let him get away the next time.”

“Never mind Scorpio,” Elixir grates. “He is taken care of, for the time being.”

The river Faeries watch us, pensive and alert. One false move, and the tension will snap. One false word, and this could turn into a bloodbath. Cerulean and Puck yield to their brother, waiting for him to take the initiative, all the while both Faeries shift in front of my sisters.

But this is one juncture where actions speak louder than words. Elixir is the epitome of this, so I know he’ll understand.

I set my fingers on his arm. “If I may.”

His eyes warm on me. “Always.”

With Lotus strapped to my arm, I swap covert glances with my sisters, who break from their lovers. Without delay, our trio steps across the walkway and does as our village did after The Trapping.

The Faeries gawk as the three of us begin to help clear the wreckage. In my periphery, I catch pride slanting across Elixir’s countenance, which transfers to Puck and Cerulean as they join us. Coral looks impressed, then falls in line and inspires handfuls of others to follow suit.

Soon enough, the entirety of The Twisted Canals is laboring in unison, gathering the detritus and the fallen, then bidding farewell to the latter as the water buries the lost beneath the ripples. For this brief time, an unspoken truce forms. Silence engulfs The Deep as Faeries and humans work together to pick up the pieces.

***

We do what we can until the surviving crickets cease chirping, and dawn falls over the land. Cascades tumble down loose mantles. The river has preserved its aquamarine glow, and orbs wink from the canopy like celestials.

According to Coral, the flood had reached The Pit of Vipers shortly after Scorpio exited there. Coral and the resident vipers had escaped, but Elixir’s inventory didn’t last. With a grisly snarl, Elixir orders everyone away from that immediate area and charges in its direction to evaluate the damage. He’s gone for longer than I care to think about, and when he returns, a terrible weight drags down his features.

Elixir has managed to recover a handful of restoratives for the wounded, but he could have done a great deal more with his territory intact. Unfortunately, the majority of his mixtures had shattered, infesting the den with free-floating dark magic. For the foreseeable future, none are permitted to enter but Elixir, who will need weeks, if not months, to purge and rebuild the vicinity.

In the meantime, we bathe our injuries in the cleanest parts of the river and dress our wounds. Cerulean and Puck offer whatever reserves they can spare from the mountain and forest, including any natural textiles, elements, and ingredients that will help. It’s a start, at least.

Ultimately, we’ve made a small dent in progress. In addition to healing, it will take a long time to restore what’s left of this realm and the fauna territories. Although my sisters and I have endured plenty of setbacks while rescuing mortal animals, this amount of desolation exceeds what we’ve ever experienced. Our hearts bear too many emotional fractures at once, so I pause regularly to wrap Lark and Juniper in my arms, hugging them until they’re ready to continue.

By now, the river Faeries are either too sedated, too traumatized, or too fatigued to grieve or seek vengeance. At one point, I catch sight of a mer child sniffling in a cattail pool. I kneel beside him and ask, “Would you like to hear a story?”

The Fae gawks through wide-set lavender eyes but nods timidly. With a grin, I settle my legs into the water and begin the first lines ofThe Viper in the Waterfall, a comforting tale and one of the more humorous stories about food. I soften my tone, and within seconds, the child sighs in delight and shyly pets Lotus, who’s now hanging off my neck like a sling.

While narrating, I feel golden eyes lingering on me, warming my back like a beacon.

A few Faeries who eavesdrop cast me furtive glances. After the child swims off, I migrate to several other figures in need of comfort and offer words of encouragement. For the ones who respond favorably, their shoulders unwind, and their jaws relax.

Once the colony has retired to their broken homes, tunnel recesses, and underwater lairs, Coral departs with Lotus. The guard knows of a nearby pool where she assures me the wearied snake will be safe and contented to rest.

Cerulean flies off with Puck harnessed to his chest. Elixir follows via the water.

Despite my objections that Elixir’s too drained for the excursion, and despite Lark’s protests that Cerulean’s wings are too tattered to make the journey, the males had insisted on searching for our weapons in The Kelpie Rapids.

They return with Lark’s whip, plus Puck and Juniper’s archery, and my spear. But they’ve yet to locate Cerulean’s javelin and Elixir’s forked daggers.

I’ve lost the map I’d drawn for them. Likely, the original sketch has also been vanquished, but I can make another version later.

All in good time. What matters is that we’re alive.

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