Page 34 of The Lost Fae
The hall doesn't offer many doors to choose from. One, really, and it isn't even closed. A dim light comes from inside of the room. More lanterns, I suppose. I creep forward, pausing behind the wall to listen for any signs of life on the other side.
Will I even know it if a troll is on the other side? They have no beating heart. They don't breathe in the wispy manner that humans and Fae do. Do they even breathe at all? The only noise I've heard them emit is the smooth melody of their voices and the scratching rhythm of their stone bodies rolling against the floors. There could be a guard inside this room. I can only hope their back is to the door, or that they don't hear me now.
Biting my tongue, I lean forward just enough to see into the room. Empty. Empty of any sort of creature, that is. Because the room itself is actually quite full. It's much larger than the small room that Lincoln and I are staying in, but this room has shelves built into the walls running up and down the entire length of it. Books are stuffed into all available spaces, even stacked up in piles along the floor. It gives the space a cramped feeling that automatically makes me think of the pocket realm. The memory alone makes my stomach queasy.
Could books fall into The Lost Court too? Quickly my mind goes directly to the The Great Library of Alexandria. Could that even be possible? Did portals bring more than people to The Lost Court?
Many of the books here look old in the way that their pages are handcrafted and bound in thick leather covers. I pick one up and leaf through a few of the pages, none of them yellowing in the least.
Judging by the lifespan of even mere humans here, it leaves me to wonder... does time move slower in this realm? Is every hour here just a second in The Shadow Court? How else can all of these things, long forgotten by most of civilization still live and thrive here? Magic. Magic is the only explanation. Whatever keeps people bound to this place gives them that one simple gift in return. Or is it a curse?
Only a few paths remain open in the cluttered library. I walk down them, my finger drifting over book titles. The fleeting thought that the oils on my fingers could one day bring these books to decay comes and goes. I pull my hand away and resign myself to just looking.
Nothing jumps out. Not that I have the time to read through any novels I might find. Not that I truly believe that the answer to leaving this court could be hidden in some text amongst all these pieces of literature. The queen wouldn't make it that easy.
Though part of me wants to stay, the small part that yearns for knowledge and learning, I know I cannot linger. But if my theory on how time moves in a place like this is real... then maybe I do have time.
No. No, Briar.I scold myself.
With one final pout-filled look, I leave the room behind. When I take my throne, I'll have time to study and learn. I have an entire history to learn from the Fae. My heart leaps at that. Through their history I'll be able to become the ruler they need, learn from the mistakes of others. I've already learned from Cordelia whatnotto be.
Once again, I move with quiet steps. As I travel the hall farther, I find more doors, all of which I open up to rooms with nothing in them. Not just no one... but literally nothing. Just walls and flooring staring back at me. There are a few rooms like that before I reach the end of the corridor. My forehead aches from the way confusion is scrunching up my face.
Where the long hall ends, there's a small window and I see a flash of movement. When I listen, I can hear the gentle murmur of water. The same sound I’d heard when we arrived and couldn’t place. I crouch down into a squat as I move closer. Windows work both ways... I can see out, but whoever is on the lawn can also see in.
No queen in their right mind would take kindly to a guest sneaking about their estate. It's a risk I'd taken a few times before. Even in Cordelia’s castle, I tip-toed around trying to eavesdrop and learn everything I could... or mostly to find Lincoln during the long days that he was called away.
Just like when I found the library, I edged myself into the window. An exhale of relief leaves me as I quickly realize there are no faces turned my way. The tall rocky bodies of the trolls are frozen as they always are, their etched faces facing the same thing. In the center of their circle, a fountain pours out water that steams in the icy evening air. The moon pours all of its light down on it as if it too is the only thing it can focus on.
My eyes only briefly check over the trolls to make sure none of them spot me in the window before they are quickly drawn back to the fountain. Something in my stomach pulls at me... something whispers to my mind, suggesting that I need to go to it... that this fountain can... help me. I shake my head, knowing these thoughts are foreign. I can almost taste the magic of it on my tongue.
It's not just the fountain, though. No, it's what's in the fountain that intrigues me the most.
Her skin is a porcelain white, is marred only by the dark strands of wet hair that cling to her shoulders. The outline of her body is surrounded by a yellow glow that sparkles at her every movement as she washes in the water.
I go stiff as Anastasia turns to the side, careful not to make any sudden movements that would draw attention to me. She cups the water to her face and lets it run down her. I focus on her features and they sparkle as the water trickles down. She's totally naked, with her breasts exposed to the night. The watching trolls don't seem to bother her in the least as she carries on.
When the soft golden glow finally dries from her face, I press my lips together to keep from gasping. It's as if the clock is turning back. Or is this just my imagination? It can't be. When I saw her earlier today, I guessed her age to be in her twenties, not too much older than me. But the tell-tale signs of aging on the human facehadbeen present, even if they were minor from her young age. I remember the small lines in her forehead, a few crinkles around her eyes, and even the soft lines around her mouth. None of which were deep enough or too unforgiving of her youth.
As she looks up to the moon, water glowing in droplets that run over the peaks over her chest and down toward her navel, there isn't a single line or crease. She looks... she looks.... seventeen? Like a teenager.
Is this... whatever it is... what all the humans here have been using? Is this how Captain Beatrice and her crew remain alive? They don't look young in the least bit... not like the queen... but the fact that they are still living is an unsolved mystery.
Is this the queen's secret? Or something we just have not learned about The Lost Court yet? Whatever it is... I need to tell Lincoln.
I press myself against the wall, ready to find my way back to our room. A figure steps into the hall, their face hidden by a low tilted hat. A few more figures file in behind them. Every muscle in my body locks up.
"Sneaky, sneaky Fae... What are you doing?" Captain Beatrice Ann tilts her face up, giving me a cruel cutting grin that slices across her face like a dangerous warning of what's to come.
Ten
Mind Diving
Johanna stepsout of the shadows. She moves from behind the Captain with her head cocked as she watches me with a gloating expression. I grind my teeth together, knowing I've been caught. So what do the pirates know?
"I don't think Queen Anastasia would be pleased to hear that her guests are peeping on her." She takes another step forward and I lock my knees to keep from retreating back into the view of the window.
"And what exactly are you doing out of bed?" I keep my tone even and offer them a playful smile. It's all fun and games...
