Page 56 of Curse the Fae

Would I sigh, as I normally do when I cup myself? Would I whimper, as I usually do when I’m on the brink of climax? Or would I unleash a primal noise, as I’ve never done?

I’ll never find out, and that’s as much a comfort as it is a disturbance. I’ll never again experience the sensations he’d wrung from me an hour ago, nor the ones beyond that…the corrupt possibilities that threaten to darken my slumber. I can’t say what exhausts me more, the battle we fought together or that seductive episode in The Mer Cascades.

A platter of mackerel, potatoes slathered in cream, raw fish eggs—which I feed to the snake—and a goblet sits on the bedside table. After eating, I uncork the vial’s contents. The gelatinous mixture smells of mint as I smear it on my welts, the ointment melting into the angry, red abrasions.

Finished, I land on the bed and tumble into a deep sleep. And sometime during the night, I awaken briefly to find my skin healed and flushing pink. The contusions have vanished, and my mind is clearer.

But I still feel his weight behind me.

***

The crickets and toads fall quiet, signaling the break of dawn. I take a risk, hold my breath, and wrestle against the suctioning water of The Sunken Isle. After that, I evade Coral as she patrols the reeds circling the perimeter. I skulk past her like the cutpurse I used to be, sprint up the jetty, and sneak into Elixir’s lair once more, this time by swimming through the vat to rescue Juniper’s crossbow. To my relief, the water lord isn’t there, but neither is the weapon. Either my nemesis hid the archery after speculating I’d attempt a sibling-worthy heist—The Three had known I’d been spying on them, after all—or I’ve arrived too late.

Logic tells me it’s the latter. Elixir had said he would require only a day to oblige the satyr, which means Puck of The Solitary Forest has already made a second visit to his brother and reclaimed the crossbow and bolts, now stripped of iron.

I return to my confines empty-handed and fretful about what this means for Juniper. That night, sleep evades me until my sanctuary friend slithers to my pillow and winds himself into a coil beside my head.

Time passes, with no visits or summons from Elixir. As ruler of this domain, he must be occupied. Besides, all he needs to do is sit back and wait for me to lose, to make a failed attempt at breaking the curse. To that end, there’s no other reason for him to bother with his mortal captive.

Part of me wants to kick myself for confiding about my love of water, plus everything else I’d told him. Another part of me can’t blame myself. The Fae could have been manipulating me into talking, a thought I nonetheless won’t accept, however much it nicks my chest. His interest had rung so earnestly. Gullible though I might be, but I know the sound of sincerity, and I know the shape of it on a person’s face. My heart tells me he wasn’t being shrewd or deceptive, particularly not after we’d combatted a bask of sacred fauna, and not after I’d witnessed the bereft expression on his countenance, the empathy that had resulted when he registered my own sadness.

And yes, I don’t want to believe otherwise because…it had been easy to talk to him in The Mer Cascades. Fables forgive me, I had enjoyed our conversation.

Elixir had stridden away, visibly unshaken by what transpired between us. But I had felt a difference, a shift in his exhalations and a change in his eye color, the gold burning hotter yet glossier. I had felt his uncharacteristic restraint. I had felt him yearning to breach the remaining distance and commit an offense he couldn’t take back.

I know because I’d endured the same contemptible agony.

Did he think about it long after walking away? Is he still thinking about it?

This line of thought is ruinous and unsafe. I push it away and move on.

Each time this world falls into daytime slumber, I skulk from my chamber and explore, searching the environment for clues about Elixir. It’s also wise to learn the extent of this wild, to know its weak spots and lethal corners, to understand its currents and animals, lest I’m forced to rely on this knowledge in an emergency.

At some point, if I manage to acclimate myself and figure out how to travel while the Faeries are awake, I’ll be able to eavesdrop at night. But for now, I keep to my human routine.

Two obstacles need to be dealt with. Carrying a weapon slows me down, but condensing the spear while swimming is the best I can do.

The second burden regards my clothing. Because it’s preposterous to slog around wet and barefooted for every outing, I stash a parcel of dry attire and the second pair of sandals from my closet in a crevice at the opposite end of The Sunken Isle. Once I’ve changed, I blend in with the shadows and slip around Coral.

I pass through conduits embossed in lantern light, obsidian caves garlanded in teal orbs, and murky tunnels bursting with florets of greenery. Dampness and scarves of mist saturate the air. Deft splashes and eerily aquatic croaks perk my ears. I tighten my grasp on the spear.

Once, I tread a stream populated by glowing eels that swish around my calves. Later, I swim amongst oversized tetras. I keep vigilant of dangerous freshwater fish or river mammals, but mostly I encounter toads that croak louder than horns and gilded lizards with tongues so long they shouldn’t fit inside their mouths. I avoid the fauna with poisonous traits and lance the nontoxic quarry with my iron spear, moving quickly before the creatures have a chance to shift sizes, then parcel them back to the snake.

The expeditions demand a firm grasp of geography. To be sure, Juniper is better at this. She prides herself on being the wisest, most literate, most erudite, most encyclopedic, most scholarly, and most “everything” having to do with the Fae. And as a huntress, she excels at map reading.

Without her counsel, I do my utmost committing the river’s terrain to memory, then use a rock to etch a map into the floor beneath my bed. As for hints about Elixir, I discover nothing beyond a greater sense of the cloistered life he’s led, so far removed from the sun and sky, with no space for his emotions or thoughts to breathe. No room for him—or any of these river Fae—to think differently.

What must that be like?

Presently, I finish scraping a new portion of the map on the floor, then notice the crickets chirping outside. Has an hour swept by already?

I scramble from under the bed, my caftan wrinkled and scuffed. Whereas such clothing must be commonplace for Faeries, this precious garment is worthy of a queen’s wardrobe in the human realm. The outfit could have been sewn from water blossoms. The sleeveless garment clasps at the shoulders, and the hem splits on either side of my calves, buffeting my limbs as I hasten about the room.

My friend had used my back as a nest while I’d been sketching, but now I pluck the snake off the floor and stash him in the closet, then perch on the mattress just as Coral enters. Without a word, she sets my platter on the table and saunters to the exit, then pauses.

The female ticks her silvery blue head sideways and addresses the floor. “You protected the river dolphin,” she reflects, uncertainty in her otherwise hypnotic voice. “You helped save Elixir, although you could have let him be slain.”

I waver, taken aback. Come to think of it, I wonder, “Would the reptiles have truly slain the ruler of the river?”