Page 14 of A Sword of Ice
Which made it the perfect hiding place for Fae who didn’t want to be found.
Iona slipped into a building that appeared empty enough on the outside, but that was only for humans who couldn’t see past the glamor that enchanted the place. They only saw crumbling roofs and wooden doors with rats scurrying in and out. In reality it was a steel fortress with no windows and a thick door that reverberated when Iona pounded on it.
She wasn’t entirely sure how this enchantment held up against the power of iron, and there were only so many secrets the owner would divulge to her.
The door opened on its own after a few moments, as if the magic of the place recognized her essence, and she slid inside. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness as the door closed behind her of its own volition. Small candles sat on the ground leading a trail of light towards a diminutive hallway, like the glowing eyes of sirens enchanting travelers at sea.
Iona followed.
If only because she knew what lay on the other side of darkness.
The candles made way to brighter lights on the other end in the room beyond the hallway. Beams shone from a clear ball stuck on the ceiling. The orange and yellow lights blinked in and out of focus, burning as bright as fire. If Iona squinted, she could make out the fluttering wings of pixies inside.
It sent a shiver down her spine to see them locked away, but Unseelie were ruthless, mischievous. Whoever locked them up had done it for a reason.
The rest of the room was impressive and vast but cluttered. There was so much piled into corners that Iona couldn’t discern any one shape from the next. A collection of Fae bones were strung up, the ivory gilded around the edges of the steel walls; preserved wings floated in jars in an array of colors. Black, red, pink, some still fluttering with the faintest whispers of life; fetuses of creatures that had all but gone extinct floated in glowing liquids. What looked like galaxies and streaking stars floated in vials. If she looked closely, she could make out blinking eyeballs set in a crystal ball on a desk to the far right.
Tables were pushed against walls together, holding the furs of satyrs, other Unseelie creatures, and steel contraptions that she couldn’t quite make out.
A chair sat in the middle of the room, cushioned like a plush throne. Atop it sat a male, illuminated by the yellow and orange flickering pixie lights. He lounged like a king with long, shapely legs crossed, one over the other.
It all made for the perfect picture, and the first thing Iona noticed was the creature in the man’s arms. A single ball with spikey fur that emitted a low, growling noise. Long, boney fingers that housed an assortment of golden rings stroked the thing soothingly. One in particular caught her attention every time she saw it because it was dull compared to the others. It was more coppery than gold and slightly rusted. If she squinted, she could swear the thing was made of iron. Ignoring the thought, Iona’s eyes flicked from the hand up to the face.
Lights swayed across bronze skin, giving the male a fiery glow. Clad in nothing but a silk robe that slid off one thin shoulder, it opened at the chest to show the long chains of gold and bone he wore.
Long, dreadlocked hair spanned against his body like thick snakes, covering the pointed ears beneath. He wore a crown of yellow and pink flowers. A dark goatee was scattered around his chin and upper lip, and his lips were tilted up in a smile.
Honey-colored eyes regarded her with mirth, a sentiment that she echoed.
“What the fuck are you wearing, George?”
The Fae smiled and bent to set the creature down on the floor. It rolled away to a dark corner, looking like a dust mite. When George straightened again, he spread his arms wide and smiled.
“Iona Wylde. Come to grace me with your presence.” He had a heavy accent that Iona knew came from Nymph Island. George Apidae himself was High Fae, raised on Unseelie land. The accent made him pronounce ‘presence’ ‘pree-ss-aaahh-nts’.
Iona always found him endearing.
“What can I do for you today?” He yanked the bottom of his chair forward, walking with it until he was level with her chest and close enough to touch. His hands spanned across her hips, the touch lasting a brief second. His eyes shone with a bit of Unseelie malevolence that she rolled her own eyes at.
“Why else would I be here?” Her brows rose.
He shrugged his delicate shoulders and leaned back against his cushioned chair. “Why else do the Fae come?” He flashed his canines. “Because I am the black market and the deep web of secrets all across Illyk.”
That he was.
If what George did was considered illegal in Tir na Faie before the war had decimated the Fae, then it was even worse now, because he involved himself in all manner of things. He was deep into extortion, rare breeds of animals, forging documentation, and his favorite trade: secrets.
He hoarded secrets like dragons of old used to hoard gold. She wondered if his magic allowed him to expand his thoughts and knowledge out to the world to his network of Fae friends who were just like him. Friends who whispered theories into his ears. Conspiracies about the government and the Empire of Illyk that were so ridiculous, he shared sometimes with Iona. She wondered if there wasn’t some truth spun into that deep web somehow.
“So, what will it be? Do you need the heart of an ogre? The tears of a mermaid? The skin of a selkie?” He rubbed his hands together. “My supplies are depleting, though, so it’ll cost you a pretty penny.”
Iona’s nose scrunched up, and she shook her head. “Do people really buy that stuff still?” She could imagine them purchasing it a long time ago, when Tir na Faie had still been strong and independent, rife with magic. But now? There were scarcely any Fae left to purchase these things.
“You’d be surprised at who graces my shop with the need for rare artifacts.” He winked but didn’t elaborate, and Iona didn’t ask.
She didn’t want to know who was dipping their fingers into all of this. Humans, that was evident. For as much as they professed to despise the Fae, the richer ones were hypocritical and still fascinated with what they had to offer.
“Well, I don’t need any Fae remains. Just a few documents.”
