Page 37 of Wrath of the Fae

‘I’m sorry about the kid. I should have told you. I didn’t have the heart to.’

‘I know. Where’s Tessa?’

‘Upstairs in one of the bedrooms. She’s sleeping. Or drinking. Maybe both. How about you get some food in your belly?’ he tries.

‘Not hungry.’ I say as my belly grumbles.

‘At least your body isn’t so keen to talk shit. Eat, Pup.’

I grab a stray slice of bread and turn towards the doors.

‘Where are you going?’

‘I need to clear my head.’

‘You’re needed here. We need you to-’

‘I’ll play the part for them. Please don’t make me play it for you too. I’m not a queen. I’m not a leader. Let the warriors make battle plans. Just point me towards the enemy. Give me a task. I’ll get it done.’

‘It’s not safe to be wandering about alone.’

‘This is probably the safest I have ever been. The shield keeps out any who mean harm. I’ll be back later, and then we can make plans to bury the dead.’

‘We burn the dead, Pup,’ he replies. ‘It’s the Fae way.’

‘I should know that. More proof that I’m not a real queen.’

‘You weren’t to know,’ he calls after me.

I leave, grabbing a bottle of wine as I do.

six

Istandatthedoorway of the manor and look up at that endless sky of deep blues and royal purples. A great moon hangs high above. One that glows a glorious, rich red. Bigger than the human moon I occasionally saw when the city's smog cleared a little. Countless stars twinkle and that unworldly glow covers us all. Darkness, yes. But still clear enough for me to see as far as my eyes would in the day. Nothing is lost in darkness.

I spread my wings and take flight, soaring high. The air rushes past me, tickling the feathers at my back and kissing my skin. I go high. High enough to meet the roof of the shield. I run my fingers along its surface. It sings to me, and I feel that within that shimmer, barely visible to the naked eye, a part of me resides. A great protector carved from my power and spread over this Kingdom. I beat my wings, flapping them slow and steady, and look down below.

‘Fuck…’ I whisper in awe.

If this is supposed to be the most deprived of the Thirteen Kingdoms, I can’t wait to see the beauty of the others. A gothic, natural beauty stretches on and on. The city itself, with wonky houses made of misshapen stone and thatch roofs, is run down. Unloved and ancient. Its occupants are crammed together and forced to make do, much like Rosenwood was. But there is no chemical smog. No chimneys billowing out thick smoke. No cars. No factories.

A vast lake of black water runs through the centre of the Kingdom. The stars and the moon reflect on its shining surface, making an endless sky above and below. The lake forks off in countless directions, connecting this Kingdom to the rest of the realm through the forbidden lands between Kingdoms and far beyond. Behind me is a wall of mountains stretching high above and far into the horizon. Jagged spikes of sharp rock protect us from the world beyond. Then forests, rivers and hills stretch on and on.

I fly away from the city, following the black lake towards those mountains. I sweep and dive. Bank left to right, soaking up all this freedom. This space. Past trees so big, they would cast the manor in shadow. I reach the sea and follow those mountains, watching the waves crash against their hostile surface. I soar beneath grand sea arches and fly side by side with winged creatures that look feline. Not all animals here are dark and dangerous. Most are wonderful.

I watch dark shadows swim beneath the water, and pass waterfalls, relishing the cool spray in the air. I close my eyes and listen to the rushing water, feeling goosebumps all over my skin.

I fly until I ache. Until the muscles in my back burn and my ears hurt from the wind.

I look down, searching for somewhere to land so I can catch my breath. I spot a stoney clearing by the lake’s edge. As I descend, I again notice those specks of colour in the water. My feet meet the ground, and my toes dip into the cool water that rushes past. Large boulders covered in moss lie in its path, and the current charges through them all. A little upstream, a small waterfall tumbles down. All I hear is the relaxing sound of rushing water and the melodic singing of exotic birds.

It’s heavenly. I sit for hours, just existing in this quiet serenity. No soldiers. No warriors. No one at all.

After a while, I wade into the water to pick up one of the coloured stones. In my hand, I hold an amethyst. Perfectly smooth and clean. Utterly beautiful. By my foot, I see something red. I collect that one too. It’s a red ruby. My fingers fold over it, and I pull out my dagger to compare the red ruby in its hilt to the one I hold now.

And it happens again. I’m pulled into the memories of the ruby set in the hilt.

Into the truth of it.

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