Page 39 of Curse the Fae

“You must be the bossiest Fae on this continent. Tell you? Where are your manners? I thought the Folk valued politeness.”

Another grunt. “I’m a ruler. My requests are law.”

“We’ll see about that. But if you must know, what I see is grave concern about the animals’ welfare.”

Mockery tightens his visage. “Yes, that would shock you. Unlike mortals, we revere the animals of our world.”

“You ignorant bastard,” I spurn. “Mortals revere the animals of our world, too. Not all of them, but most. I’m included among that lot.”

“Are you?” Elixir grates, low and scornful.

“Yes. Anyway, I know it’s a characteristic of your kind to hold the fauna dear. That isn’t what strikes me. No, what brings me up short is that you’re not hiding the emotion.”

“There is nothing to hide. I’m not ashamed to grieve for these animals, to fear the loss of them. I do not care who sees it. If it is something I cherish, I will show the world what it means to me, consequences or judgements be damned.” He frowns. “What now? Why are you so quiet?”

“Nothing, I…,” my words trail off. “Wait. Can’t you tell what I’m feeling? You’ve been able to read my temperature, my blood, and my voice, and you’ve been able to gauge my reactions, body posture, and how I sound while swimming. Why can’t you read me now?”

He bites out, “That’s assuming your inner reactions illuminate your thoughts. Sometimes, it is evident. Other times, it is not. What your body does and what comes out of your mouth can be distinct. That is why I’m asking you.”

So that he might compare the two, I realize. “In that case, ask me anything you want. Sensory signals or not, it doesn’t mean you’ll have full access to me, providing I decide to answer at all. And I guess that’ll depend on if I like your question, so no pressure. I’m not afraid of an inquisition.”

I sense Elixir picking through my declaration like he would a pile of splinters, meticulously and tenaciously for about three seconds, right before his arm knocks the lot to the ground. “Are you certain? Or would you care to revise that very evident lie?”

Condemnation! “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“It means I have changed my mind.” Inspiration tweaks his features. “I have a bargain to offer you.”

12

A bargain from a Fae. If I could have imagined this scenario, it would have taken place in a prominent setting where incidents of ceremony occur, such as in a throne room surrounded by an oval of spectators. Or, in the case of this realm, I might have imagined this scene on a bridge in The Twisted Canals. I wouldn’t have pictured myself waterlogged in the river.

“One question,” Elixir proposes. “I shall ask you one pivotal question. Answer it genuinely, and I shall allow you to leave.”

“Right now?” I squawk.

“Right now,” he says.

That’s the bargain. It sounds innocent enough, but nothing is ever innocent when it comes to making deals with Faeries.

A soggy blanket of humidity gusts through The Deep. Water rustles as I kick to stay above water. “I’m sure many rulers take inquisitive action while soaked to the bone, swimming with mammals, and in the company of an armed prisoner. If I try hard enough, I can see how this would make sense. Sarcasm aside, don’t you have a dry room or dungeon where we might proceed? Not that I’m advocating for dungeons, or any enclosure having to do with imprisonment or torture. In fact, disregard that altogether.

“But I once read a Fable that stated magical beings have a penchant for symbolic locations and spaces designated for interrogations, persecutions, bargains, and even normal conversations. One pertinent detail was the participants could stand on solid ground, which made things easier. I think the Fable was about a kelpie and a tortoise who—”

Elixir threads his fingers through the sparkling water, which thickens and forms a fortification under my feet, thus alleviating me of the need to swim in place. It bolsters my weight as though I’m standing on a damp shore.

I gape at the aquamarine depth, then back at him.Thank youstumbles across my tongue, then skids to a halt. “Well, that’s convenient.”

Elixir’s mouth twitches, but he smooths over the reaction with a glower. “One might also call it a favor.”

Favor. The word flaps like a red flag in my head.

I leap off the invisible foundation. “Never mind. I can’t afford to accept. You understand.”

The Fae tilts his head. Once more, he fondles the water, and the same foundation solidifies beneath my toes. No matter where I relocate myself, I suspect this breed of magic will continue to happen. I slit my eyes toward Elixir, who maintains a straight face.

“I did not say itwasa favor,” he asserts. “I do not bestow favors. I leave that to the lofty mountain sprites and frivolous woodland nymphs. I merely implied that itmightbe called a favor.”

Despite that impenetrable exterior, his irises gleam like the river. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was teasing me.

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