Page 30 of The Lost Fae
This is the most normal riddle of them all. The answer to the riddle sits inside their heads. So does their churning thoughts that suggests that they want to think up something else to test my wit. Lincoln's right. I spoke too fast and they think I'm so smart that they should test my intelligence.
“Um…” I dawdle a bit. But really I’m not obnoxious enough to suggest Lincolns joke so I drag out that uncertainty a bit longer. “A face, two hands and never misses a meal…” I repeat to myself like I haven’t heard their answer almost immediately. “Is it… No that doesn’t make sense.” My teeth sink into my lower lip and I can see they’re very pleased to have stumped me. “It… is it a clock?” I ask with more hesitation that just makes the even more pleased.
The trolls remain silent for a minute. Long enough that I glance back at Lincoln, curious if maybe I picked the wrong information from their mind. Lincoln stays focused on the trolls until they finally say.
"Correct." They topple to the side like before and begin rolling toward the palace finally.
Finally.
We follow as a group in silence. I can feel the watchful stare of every statue on my skin. No, I remind myself, not statues, trolls. All of the trolls watch us with the same stone-like stare.
"Are they all trolls?" I ask quietly.
"Yes. Oh, wait—” Lincoln points to a figure painted in a much lighter color, almost so pale it matches the snow. "That one is actually a statue."
"Look again," Johanna winks.
My head has never turned so fast in my life. I grab onto Lincoln as we both look back at the small figurine. To me it looks like a tiny cherub, a chunky toddler with sprouting wings and a bow and arrow strapped across it's back. Possibly even comparable to the idea of cupid.
None of those things are real. Right? Lincoln would know. Right?
My eyes widen as the small cherub statue strings a bow in its quiver and points it at us as we walk by. Its eyes glow a dangerous red though I swear they had been white like the rest of its body before.
"What is that?" I hiss.
Ziko's face has gone near slack, color draining from his cheeks. "I… I don't know."
"I'm going to write that down for the history books."
I keep eye contact with the little white demon, or so I was starting to guess by the cruel look that is twisting its features, until the large white doors swing open. Inside the grand building it's just as colorful as the details on the outside. Checkered patterns and swirling designs accent every corner, most made colorful by the same messy paint outside that gives the place a do-it-yourself feel.
The trolls roll onto the floor, clattering loudly against the same sort of stone that makes up the walls, except this stone is scratched. A voice calls out from another room, light and dainty, and exactly how I imagine a fairytale princess to sound.
"Hello? Hello? Can I help you?"
The trolls come to a stop, righting themselves, as a slender woman draped in blue and gold steps lightly into the hall.
"Oh," she gasps, holding her hand up to her mouth. I can't help but tell how fragile and small her wrist looks. "I have visitors." Dark brown hair is piled underneath a simple gold crown. Her eyebrows, thick and bushy, pull together. In human years, I'd place her in her early twenties.
The trolls teeter for a moment before they freeze in their spots entirely. The queen brushes by them without acknowledgement.
"Captain Beatrice, who have you brought me? I'll assume that means you got your ship seaworthy again."
The captain's jaw clenches, but she doesn't respond. She doesn't need to. The queen makes her way through our small group, heading for Lincoln and I. Her brown eyes travel up and down us, trying to take both of us in at once. If I hadn't already known that she's met all sorts of creatures, I would assume this is her first time seeing a Fae.
"This man is so... large." She places her hand on Lincoln’s chest, marveling at the definition of his pecs. It's not so much that Lincoln is abnormally large, while he is muscular and tall, but the queen just happens to be so petite.
"So handsome too. Oh! And your ears." She stands on the tip of her toes and traces over the point of his ear, hardly able to reach. Lincoln stiffens but doesn't pull away.
I take a step closer to him, leaning closer to the queen, my lips curl up over my teeth, a low rumble of a growl building from my chest. Lincoln grips my hand. And I clamp my mouth closed but make no move to put space between us.
"How feisty! So I may assume that you two are a couple?" She pouts up at Lincoln. "Shame. You'd make such pretty arm candy. Have you twosparked?"
That's it. That's the word she needed to say to make my insides quake. Spark... no we hadn't. We'd done the next best thing, which is to claim. It's what makes me possessive when normally I’d be resigned to watch in quiet disgust as I'd done so many times before with Collin and all the girls that flirted shamelessly with him. Sometimes I would wrap myself up in Collin to prove that we were together, but that only resulted in him scolding me in private. Those girls were innocent, he'd always dismiss.
The queen isn't innocent. Her flirting is an open invitation. Everything she does is pointed. Just. Like. Cordelia.
"Well?" she asks again in the pending silence.
