Page 49 of Curse the Fae

Up close, I notice the smudges of black under his lower eyelids, as if the color is leaking from there. The Fae peers at me with spite, his visage implying that I’m to blame for what happened to him. He twirls his fingers in the pool and whisks up a length of water that shapes itself into a net. I feel the color leach from my face and imagine him snatching me in his liquid snare, then dragging me into the bath with him. He might ravish me, or shave the skin from my bones, or drown me as the crocodiles had failed to do.

But after what I’ve recently been through, I’m no longer in the mood to be afraid. My spear is up and braced before any of the Folk say another word.

The merman seethes in Faeish but stalls when he registers my weapon, its length inset with iron. Outrage purples his face. “He allows this mortal to bear such arms?”

With renewed contempt, the male lunges. An olive hand thrusts from out of nowhere and seizes him by the jugular. At which point, the water net dissolves into the bath with a splat.

Coral sighs, as if having expected this. The rest of us spin toward Elixir, who towers next to the basin. Out of the water, his limbs have materialized, and a filmy robe drizzles down his form, the tie loose around his waist and threatening to spill open. Beads of moisture cling to his collarbones and the tips of his hair.

His grip bears the full weight of the merman. “Do I allow her to bear such arms?” he repeats into the male’s face. “Yes. I fucking do.”

His knuckles delve, plugging the merman’s gills. Those golden irises flare, threatening to blind my assailant, if not choke him.

Elixir murmurs, “Nod if you understand.”

The gagging Fae hangs suspended, the object of public humiliation for a second time. Breaking from my paralysis, I’m about to demand Elixir show mercy and let him go, when the obedient male nods.

Elixir’s fingers snap open. The Fae crashes into the water.

The merfolk bow in subservience, and the sprites to drop to their knees. Their expressions are loaded with admiration rather than trepidation, as though applauding Elixir for this level of aggression.

The water lord slices his errant gaze across the caves. He speaks in rapid Faeish, rattling off what sounds like a sequence of events, then finishes with,“Jún ferndadi mick.”

The incredulous Faeries glance at me anew. “Her?” a mermaid gurgles in disbelief.

Elixir inclines his head, then snaps, “Out.”

My escort and the merfolk disband, the latter casting me affronted yet perplexed glares before plunging into the cascades. There must be an outlet from here. The depths reduce the river Fae to colorful blots before they disappear altogether.

I round on Elixir. “Why did you do that? This is their territory!”

“They will get it back.”

“What I meant is, you didn’t have to assault that merman! Fables forgive you, but you could have been lenient!”

He blinks, as if struck down. “That is not what they expect from me. I’m no lenient ruler.”

“Ruler? This isn’t being a ruler. It’s called being a tyrant.”

“No, it is called setting an example. Do your kings behave differently?”

“Fine, but I can defend myself against bullies,” I assert.

“And by now, I am aware of that,” he replies blandly, though with a tinge of uncensored admiration.

“What did you tell them?” I demand.

“That I had confiscated your spear, and you reclaimed it. That you came to my aid against The Bask of Crocodiles, and now I owe you a favor.”

“They’ll wonder how I fled The Sunken Isle in the first place.”

“I told them you were with me.”

Which is true, but… “Coral would have seen you fetch me.”

“I told the merfolk you werewith me,” he restates. “I’m your captor and their sovereign. They will not ask further questions.”

“Fine, but you came to my aid against the reptiles first.”

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