Page 38 of Curse the Fae

A fleet of creatures careens our way, their slick bodies leaping, arching, and diving like lances. As they sling toward us, their bottlelike snouts punch the water, and their mouths open wide to emit clicking sounds.

Awe steals my concentration. I’ve never beheld these fauna in my world, but my birth parents had described their mortal equivalents to me. All the same, the animals radiate with unearthly color, shifting from the copper of coins, to the bronze of statues, to the amber of gemstones. The tints fluctuate, shimmering from their snouts to their tail fins.

Before they reach us, the fleet splits and forks with giddy energy. Their sprightly behavior is infectious. A fin glides playfully across my elbow, the contact dabbing a smile into my face.

Reverence transforms Elixir’s features. The heat and hostility from seconds ago disintegrate as he straightens formally. He bows, inclining his head to the fauna as they whisk past us, then scatter into various parts of the river, where they bound and caper like children.

I can’t decide what to process first—our gang of visitors or the sight of a viper genuflecting to a party of river dolphins. Unlike with his kin and subjects, Elixir’s willingness to relinquish authority is limited only to the fauna. That much is widely known, how the Folk worship their animals and consider them sacred above all else. However, knowing this and seeing it are two different phenomena.

My gaze transfers from the dolphins to the viper. “By any chance, is this—”

“The Pod of Dolphins?” Elixir supplies. “No, it is not. This is The Fauna Tides.” He angles his head in inquiry. “Your orientation with The Grotto That Whispers was informative. I gather you were paying attention.”

What a condescending brute. “May I presume you didn’t inherit your social skills from these creatures?”

“They preside over this area.” He glances in the mammals’ direction, his voice thawing. “Yet they share it with all water fauna, enabling every dweller of the river to congregate here.”

“That sounds like a watering hole.”

“Something to that effect, yes. Though, despite it being neutral territory, it is a risk for prey and predators to share turf. That is why sharks rarely venture here, for instance. They fear mass dolphin pods.”

A perturbed silence follows. Elixir’s face clenches in belated realization of how much he’d said. He thins his lips, preventing him from confiding more.

I’m not about to discourage this Fae. Listening to Elixir express anything deferential is an experience I don’t know what to do with. It’s the same as an illusion—out of reach, unrealistic, and unlikely to last long.

“I think it’s wonderful,” I tell him.

“You would say that,” he remarks.

“The dolphins are sages for sharing this territory. And yes, I would say that. Many people in my world base worth on one’s possessions. I see a person’s worth in what they contribute. That’s what strengthens us.”

The skin between his brows crinkles. I would have expected him to act noncommittal, yet this Fae gives the notion prolonged thought, to the point where he shifts in discomfort and then grunts in acknowledgment.

I gesture at the river dolphins. “What will happen to them if the water level keeps draining?” At his prudent expression, I confirm, “You already know I heard everything.”

Elixir averts his troubled gaze. “The same that will happen to all of us. They will either dehydrate or suffocate, then fade.”

From the way he drags the words out, the weight of them heavy and laborious, the empathetic part of me longs to say I’m sorry. As usual, this impulse is ridiculous where it concerns him, but I do understand the palpable dip in his tone. I’ve lived through it, as have my sisters. I can’t spend years rescuing animals and running a sanctuary without knowing a bit about this feeling.

“How long can Faeries and fauna last without nourishment?” I broach.

It takes him another moment to reply. I suppose providing details would give me fodder to use against his kind, which is why he merely whispers, “Not long enough.” After a brief pause, acrimony replaces his angst, and he glares my way. “You are not saying anything. Why are you not saying anything?”

“Am I supposed to say something?” I reply, softer than I’d care to admit.

“You always say something,” he carps. “I would hear it rather than guess it.”

“That would be a first.”

“Yes, it would.”

“It’s just…the look on your face right now.”

“What about it? How do I look? Choose your answer cautiously.”

“I don’t have tochoosean answer. I’m a human, not a Fae who needs to dance around the truth.”

“And what is this truth you behold on my face? Tell me.”

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