Page 48 of The Iron Fae
The only reprieve from the sun is cast by the rocks. It still spells outswim. I don't need the reminder with the taste of the ocean still stuck to my tongue. I fist my hand and hit the ground just once with a growl. It's all I allow myself before I stand and step into the wicked waves.
This time I don't pay attention to the waves. I don't look to the clouds. Tropical air, cooled only by the storm that rages above, fills my lungs. I surge forward fighting the waters as I arch my arms over my head and then send them forcefully below the dark surface.
I stumble forward into the meadow. Broken weeds and stems catch on my wet socks. Behind me I hear the flapping of wings. The blood that was splattered on my pant legs before, now gone. Even the weeds where my body had fallen the first time are no longer flattened against the earth. It's as if I'd never been here at all.
Run and jump. Jump from the fucking cliff, Briar.
This is the worst part, in my opinion, the purposeful jumping. Next to not having any clue what the hell I'm supposed to be doing here. Still, I leap. Even if I can't bring myself to open my eyes until I'm standing in the grass once more.
It's here. Whatever it is, it's here in this scene with my father where I'm going wrong. I'm not answering him correctly.
Context clue. Context clues.
A familiar breeze passes carrying the voices of the fair. The voices of the friends that bump against each other as they walk, talk, and laugh. I can see as they sway this time that perhaps they've visited the Reminints tree far too many times this evening. I look beyond them to the lighters flicking. Something somewhere has to tell me what to do.
The meadow, the blood splatter, told me to lie. Maybe saying my name in truth had been where I'd gone wrong. What false name should I give? Does it matter?
Nothing in the movement of the Fae, nothing in the lights and fun at the distance, nothing on their clothing so much as suggests a word or a prompt.
It was my father's last sentence that suggested what I should do in the desert. "You need to go for a walk." Replays in my mind. And I listened.
Maybe I should just listen.
Together the pair chuckles. Both their gazes travel wearily down my clinging, wet clothing. They judge but don't give me enough of their attention to put a pause to their conversation.
"You're so gullible. Always doing everything you're told." The first grabs his friends’ shoulder, pointing them away from me.
"I'm just following my commands," they complain.
The friend shakes their head. "Stop. Next time they try to tell you to do something, do the opposite. I dare y—oh! It's the king."
I'm so gullible. They're talking to me.
My mistake is doing everything I'm told. So... I should disobey? Do the opposite?
King Rihst is already hustling toward me, his robe flying behind him. What does he tell me to do? I'm racking my brain thinking back to the first conversation. He asks me some questions but his only command is to walk. So what if I didn't walk in the desert? What if I didn't swim in the ocean? What if I didn't jump from the cliff?
What if... I didn't lie?
Two polished boots stop in front of me. He disapproves of my attire, so clearly, his scowl only deepens as he takes in my ragged state. King Rihst balls his hands up, keeping his arms straight as his side. It reminds me of the frustration and the way I wanted to throw a fit like a child.
"Who are you?" he spits.
"Briar Anders," I say with certainty. I'm telling the truth. I won't follow the commands of the amulet any longer.
The scrunch of his brow lifts ever so slightly. No other tensions leave his body, still he lifts his chin. "Why are you here?"
"I've come for my powers."
Rihst brings one of his large hands up to his mouth. His eyes shine as he watches me with a new sort of scrutiny. "Are you," he clears his throat, "Are you the child of Amelia Nightwaters?"
To hear Cordelia's last name is a shock. Though I suppose it's really the king’s last name that she's then carried. Slowly, I nod my head.
"Say it out loud," he whispers, closing his eyes. "The magic won't work if you don't say it out loud."
"Yes. I am your daughter. I am the child of Amelia Nightwaters."
He covers his entire face now. A loud whimper caught in his grasp. I give him a moment, trying to calm the shock of my own body. Goosebumps travel over my skin as he lowers his hands, showing me the torment that lives within him. His lip quivers.
