Page 19 of Curse the Fae

Their tongues emit the loudest, most melodic hisses I’ve ever heard, the unearthly sounds vibrating like cymbals. Their eyes are so vivid, the colors rival priceless jewels.

From my experience, many humans would recoil and flee the scene, apart from reptile admirers, trade poachers, and my family. My breath hitches at the sight. Elixir is busy crossing the path, but I stay where I am, the better to admire these creatures.

I step into the vegetation and explore, filtering through the green stalks while feeling the water lord’s attention slowly drawing my way. Footfalls double back and trail down my path. I glance over my shoulder and catch the Fae monitoring me, his glazed eyes downcast in awareness as he listens to my movements.

A serpent with opal eyes skates my way, the cord of its body unwinding. I hesitate, appraising the faint line down the center of its head. Although Fae animals are different, the Fables vow that many key facets are the same. This one looks harmless, its appearance reminding me of a boa constrictor. If so, it’s nonvenomous.

Tentatively, I reach out and run my finger over the reptile’s head. The creature sways from side to side, and I chuckle.

A masculine intake brings me up short. I glance at Elixir arrested several paces away. His head is slanted, the peak of one ear having caught the sound of my laughter, which causes his profile to crinkle in what must be repugnance.

I wince, offended and oddly bereft by the reaction.

Elixir’s attention slides toward the animal that has come to greet me. The ruler’s expression turns concentrated and inquisitive while focusing on the snake. If I didn’t know any better, I would say he’s sending a message to the creature.

I would also say the snake is responding, because Elixir frowns in displeasure, as if betrayed.

A moment later, the reptile slinks around my feet, then vanishes into the undergrowth.

I stand and regard Elixir’s disgruntled expression. “What?”

But he just spins on his bare heel and strides to the walkway. I sigh and catch up to him. “You looked like you were asking that snake a question.”

“I was,” he says.

“You can understand them?”

“I can.”

“Were you talking about me?”

“We were.”

“And you’re not getting to tell me what was said? Not even a hint?” When he makes no reply, I try a different approach. “Is the reptile your familiar?”

Elixir reaches the opposite end of the pathway. His reply drops like a stone—heavy and lifeless—in the space between us. “My brothers have animal companions. I do not.”

Brothers? But the Fables say nothing about Elixir having siblings.

Where are they? Do they live here?

Those questions are worth dwelling upon, but other details take precedence. I pad into a dome-like room germinating with more abundant vegetation. Three crescent-shaped tables line the chamber, each surface weighed down by glass bottles and stoppered jars that glisten with fluids. Other containers hang from the ends of ropes affixed to the ceiling, the vessels suspended like mobiles. Milky liquids and sparkling mixtures swim inside the glass, dousing the room with light.

In the center, a vat of water burrows into the ground. The surface ripples, the noise trickling through the room.

Elixir approaches one of the tables. Dispassionately, he withdraws my sweat droplet from his pocket, tips the bead into a jar, and stamps a cap over the lid.

I step fully into the chamber. “Why would you take a bead of my sweat? What are you going to do with it?” No surprise, the Fae stays quiet. “How did you do that in the first place?” I persist. “You plucked that droplet like the bud of a flower and then solidified its shape. How?”

“I’m Lord of the Water Fae. Ruler of the River. One of The Three,” he reminds me arrogantly and flatly, as if those titles explain everything.

“So far, that’s more than you’ve told me about yourself in a single sentence,” I reply while inching near the containers hanging like ornaments. I raise my fingers to a tall vessel filled with bubbles. “But like I said in the chamber, among all those titles, you left out—”

A hand snatches my digits before I make contact with the glass. My head swings toward Elixir, who hovers at my side although he was twenty feet away seconds ago. “You know my name,” he says. “The grotto told you.”

I jerk my fingers back. His moniker tastes brackish on my palate.

“Elixir,” I say.

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