Fae Games

by Sofia Daniel

  I gulped, trying not to imagine a young Pokeweed with weak magic falling prey to the arrogant high faeries. “Where else does it lead?”

  “To my home,” he replied. “You’ll be perfectly safe with me.”

  “Of course.” I stepped through the entranceway and inhaled the damp, woody scent of the hallway.

  As soon as Pokeweed stepped in after me, the knot closed with a snap. I wondered if he had enchanted it this way in case he had to run away from a mob.

  “Now, you can enter my home at any time,” he said.

  “Thanks.” We continued down the darkened hallway in silence with me placing a hand on the cool, earth walls. The starlights illuminated the way, so I didn’t bump into anything or fall flat on my face.

  “How did you learn magic?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?” he said.

  “Ummm…” My brows drew together. I thought the question was simple enough. “Did you join the academy as a student? Is that where you learned to make tunnels and fix dead trees and turn men’s parts into mushrooms?”

  “My innate power is linked to the earth, and I developed that on my own.”

  “Didn’t the faerie bringing you up teach you anything?” I asked.

  “She was a winged dormouse,” he said. “Their lifespans are very short.”

  My stomach dropped. Couldn’t the duke and duchess have given him to a faerie who could communicate? Dormice were practically animals. I wanted to hug Pokeweed, but that would probably make him feel awkward.

  We continued down the passageway until daylight streamed out from arched doors. I quickened my steps, eager to see Pokeweed’s home, imagining a hut with huge windows and a great view of the lake.

  “Thanks for hiding me,” I said.

  “If the Duke of Medietas wasn’t so blinded by grief, he would realize you were his daughter’s friend, not her enemy.”

  My shoulders slumped. “I used to feel bad for him, but he’s got some rigid ideas.”

  “Indeed.” Pokeweed pushed open the door. “A parent should keep his or her child at their side, no matter what.”

  “Right.” The depth in Pokeweed’s words faded to the back of my mind as I took in a circular room of uneven, whitewashed walls that were supported every few feet by thick branches that grew from a moss-covered floor. “Pokeweed, is this a house?”

  “We’re standing at the roots of the largest apple tree in the orchard,” he said. “Would you like to enter my home?”

  I stepped inside, and my gaze followed a staircase fashioned out of trees, which spiraled up several stories leading to a high, open-top verandah. Along the handrail ran a vine that produced cherry-sized berries in violet, magenta, and lilac.

  “How long have you been building this place?” I asked, my voice breathy with awe.

  Pokeweed smiled. “Since I arrived at the academy. May I take your cloak?”

  I shouldered off the invisibility cloak and handed it to Pokeweed, still looking around at the treehouse. “It’s gorgeous.”

  “What do humans say? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” His black eyes lingered over the gossamer dress, then they met mine in a stare so heated, my cheeks burned.

  I snatched my gaze away and stared at the green carpet of moss.

  “Forgive me,” he whispered.

  My heart ached. If the princes hadn’t already wormed their way into my heart, I might have given things a try with Pokeweed. At least with him, it would be a quiet life.

  I placed a hand on his muscled arm. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I keep coming here—”

  “Nonsense.” He stepped back, ending our contact. “I value these times we have together.”

  I swallowed hard through a throat that thickened with emotions. Guilt for relying so much on Pokeweed and giving him nothing back. Fury that someone had cursed him with an exterior the complete opposite of his inner beauty. “Things will be different when I get the wishbone.”

  With an absent nod, he wandered to the space beneath the stairs to a stove that looked molded out of clay. “Would you like a cup of dandelion coffee?”

  Warmth spread through my insides. It was what I used to drink with Sicily. “Yes, please.”

  “What kind of milk? Colanut or chestnut?”

  “Er… Chestnut, please.” It was the only nut I’d heard of, but I still couldn’t imagine how it could be turned into milk.

  On the far left of the round room was a sofa covered in crushed rose petals. After sitting on what felt like the most comfortable surface on the Isle of Fae, I took off my shoes and let my feet sink into the damp, mossy floor.

  “Your home is heavenly,” I said.

  Pokeweed emerged from the kitchen area holding a tray laden with round pieces of shortbread and two steaming mugs of coffee. He lowered himself onto the sofa and placed the tray between us, instead of on the low tables close by. “I’m glad you like it.”

  I sipped at the richest, creamiest dandelion coffee I’d ever tasted. It was better than the imported stuff, and the shortbread was sweet and crumbly. Pokeweed stole glances throughout my drink, taking deep breaths as though psyching himself up to say something important.

  To fill the silence, I told him about visiting the hag but left out the part about milking Prince Bradwell for his semen. I also outlined the steps the hag showed us, along with the herbs and items she had plucked for her garden.

  “It sounds like the four-star ritual.”

  I twisted around the seat and frowned at Pokeweed. “How did you know?”

  He raised his broad shoulders. “I spent a lot of time in the library in my younger days.”

  “Right.” I picked up another piece of shortbread.

  “This enchantment requires four people with a deep connection.”

  I tilted my head to the side, not understanding what he meant. Three of the princes wanted to be my mate. With me added, that meant four. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “You can’t yet express your magic.” Pokeweed stared at me with solemn eyes. “For this enchantment to work, you will need all four brothers.”

  My spirits sank. If Prince August knew I would be there, he’d probably not turn up. Worse, he would call the Duke of Medietas and have me thrown into the darkest dungeon.

  Chapter 17

  I rose from the rose-petal sofa and paced up and down the moss-covered floor. Its cool, damp surface did nothing to calm my nerves. Everything was going wrong, and we hadn’t even started.

  Poor Helen. She was stuck in another realm with all manner of monsters. No one would protect her from the four dark faeries who were furious with the loss of their brother.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Pokeweed.

  I stopped at an arched window and rested my palms on its wooden sill. Six-foot high apple trees with fruit growing from narrow trunks stood like sentinels at a royal palace. Thin branches sprouted from the tops of those trees like hair.

  Tilting my head to the side, I wondered if Pokeweed was growing upside-down broomsticks. Beyond the peculiar sight lay a view of the weeping willow and the pond.

  Turning away from the distraction to a low bookshelf with dusty-looking tomes, I said, “Even if the king and queen released the princes, they would probably have them followed.”

  “That’s true,” he said.

  “Maybe we should reschedule, then.” I turned and found Pokeweed still sitting by the tray of shortbread, staring at me as though I was a firecracker about to explode. “What do you think?”

  His chest heaved with a sigh, and he placed his mug down on the dray. “Perhaps you should send a missive to the Duke of Medietas and tell him what you learned from the seeing hag.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “I admire your effort to rescue your friend, but isn’t that the job of the Noble House of Medietas?” he asked.

  My brows drew together. “I can’t just sit there and do nothing. That punishment was meant for me.”

  “From what I have heard
, the duke is more interested in revenge than in retrieving his lost daughter.”

  My shoulders drooped, and I returned to the sofa and sat. “All the more reason for me to make an effort. Until I mentioned it to the princes, they acted as though Helen had to remain in Dubnos until the new moon. If people that powerful can’t use their influence to get her out, it’s because they don’t care.”

  “That is true,” he said. “But I can’t help wondering about how four vacuous, eighteen-year-old girls managed to effect such potent magic.”

  I twisted around on the sofa and met his black eyes. “It started with them killing unicorns and using their hearts—”

  “But who told them how to open such a portal and which dark faeries to contact?” asked Pokeweed. “Gala has a natural affinity with winter magic, but no head for navigating ancient rituals.”

  “Right.” I dipped my head. Would a seeing hag be reckless enough to give her that kind of information? Hags were wise and amoral, but they didn’t let the world go to ruin for petty gains that could backfire.

  “Is this what you really want?” he asked. “The four-star ritual can only be performed once in a person’s lifespan.”

  My throat thickened as my mind filled in the blank he’d left unsaid. With Queen Titania and the Duke of Medietas wanting my arrest, I might need the princes to effect a rescue from Dubnos for myself.

  Squaring my shoulders, I sucked in a deep breath. Hoarding opportunities while dear friends suffered wasn’t a way to live. “I can’t leave Helen down there. Especially after what the seeing hag told me she was suffering.”

  Pokeweed frowned. Or at least I think that’s what it meant when the fur on his brow bunched and furrowed. “There is something I can do. There’s a patch of land I can enchant to make you safe from palace guards. When you have finished the ritual, enter my premises through any large enough tree.”

  Hope sprung in my chest, and I reached across the tray that divided us and placed a hand on Pokeweed’s shoulder. “Thank you. How will I tell the princes where to meet me?”

  Pokeweed stood, ending our contact. “I will ask one of the pixies to send them a message.”

  When I drew my hand back, I thought he would return to the seat. Instead, he picked up the tray and took it to the kitchen area. Moments later, he emerged with two crystal bowls. The larger contained assorted apples and the smaller red and purple berries.

  “I’ll contact them now.” He set down the bowls on a low table on my side of the sofa.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “It’s fine.” Pokeweed walked to the arched doorway, paused to give me a nod goodbye, and stepped through to the darkened passage.

  I slumped in my seat and stared at the closing door. Sometimes, I really didn’t understand Pokeweed. It had been his idea for me to mate with all four princes as he wanted me to break his curse with the wishbone, but now he was acting conflicted.

  My toes curled, disappearing into the floors’ deep covering of moss. It was too late. Too late for me to turn away from Princes Caulden and Rory. Now that I had gotten to know Prince Bradwell, I sensed a kindred spirit who wanted to make things better for humans on the Isle of Fae.

  If I backed away now for a quiet life with Pokeweed, it would leave a gap in my heart that could never be filled, and Lady Gala might step in and worm her way into becoming the queen.

  “Miao.” A familiar-looking black cat with a white diamond on its chest padded out from behind the bookshelf.

  “Don’t you belong to the seeing hag?” I leaned forward, offering it my hand. “What are you doing all the way here?”

  The cat sniffed at my fingers. “People aren’t possessions,” said a male voice from its mouth. “You of all people should know that.”

  I snatched my hand away and clutched it to my chest. Something the hag had said earlier slithered back to the front of my mind. “You’re the king that never was.”

  The cat jumped onto the sofa and placed his front paws on my thigh. “I’m just a man born under a curse, like your friend Pokeweed. Mistress Catha was referring to you. Or at least the magic you absorbed when you got cursed.”

  “That dark faerie was a prince?” I asked.

  “Queen Maeve isn’t sitting around in the otherworld knitting socks, you know. She declared Lugh her heir.”

  I swallowed hard. That had been the name Mistress Ellyllon had used when Pokeweed had flown me to her tower. The wards had inform the headmistress about my past. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “You’re angling for the wishbone, aren’t you?” he asked.

  My throat dried. Was the cat about to demand I use one of my wishes on him? “What makes you think that?

  “You are. I can feel it in my bones.” He sat on his haunches and stared up at me with eyes as bright as lamplights. “And as my last living relative, I need your help.”

  “Are you the son of Mom’s great-great-aunt who got cursed by Queen Maeve’s lady in waiting?”

  “McVittie’s the name. McVittie Diorval.” The cat jumped down and walked around my legs. “I know lots about the Mound and its magic. More than pampered princes too young to wipe their noses. We could help each other.”

  My brows furrowed. There were three wishes, but I had even more desires. I needed to break Pokeweed’s curse, bring back Sicily, Mom, and Dad, and rescue Helen. Maybe the cat could help me phrase the wishes so I could help everyone.

  “Think about it,” said McVittie. “I’ll stay out of your way, but if you ever need my help, just call.”

  I glanced down, but the cat had already gone. “Are you still there?”

  He didn’t answer, so he had either disappeared with magic or was hiding behind the sofa, trying to look mysterious. I stood and walked around Pokeweed’s home, looking for signs of the talking cat who claimed to be my great-great-great-uncle on Mom’s side, but he was nowhere in sight.

  “Maybe I just dreamed that,” I muttered to myself.

  “You didn’t,” said a little voice.

  “Where are you?”

  The furry little bastard didn’t reply.

  After washing up the used mugs and stacking them on the draining board, I stood at the windowsill and stared at two rows of apple trees bent toward each other to create an arch. A quartet of orange-skinned pixies with black wings flew from tree to tree, picking the reddest apples.

  I clutched the edge of the windowsill, willing myself not to stray where I hadn’t been invited. It didn’t matter that there was so much of Pokeweed’s treehouse to explore, snooping like that just wasn’t done.

  Everyone I knew in Doolish lived in either one or two rooms. If they were posh, they’d have three. Our main room, where Sicily and I used to sleep, had a stove and a sink in one corner and hand-made stools for visitors.

  Since Elijah converted the beds into sofas, the room could seat eight guests—more if they were willing to watch DVDs from one of the floor cushions.

  Not a single person dared to venture into the back room. Everyone knew that was where a family kept their valuables, cursed relatives, and other items not fit for public showing.

  I turned back and glanced at the spiral staircase, which meandered up and around the huge tree. There was no way I would violate Pokeweed’s hospitality. He’d done so much for me already.

  “Prince Bradwell sent a message,” said a voice from the door.

  My heart flipped, and I spun around to find Pokeweed walking toward me with a note. “He has returned from the palace, but Princes Caulden and Rory are still being detained.”

  “Thanks.” I took the note, and our fingers brushed, the sensation of his fur sending tingles down my spine. Swallowing hard, I stepped away with the feeling that Pokeweed was staring at me with a gaze as heated as my cheeks.

  Prince Bradwell’s letter said:

  Dearest Unity

  We will have to postpone the ritual until tomorrow or later. Her Majesty has demanded that the Duke of Medietas have you arrested and brou
ght to the palace for interrogation.

  No matter how many times Caulden and Rory explained, she still thinks you used the same dark means as Gala and the others to become a fated mate.

  She only released me because I agreed to play spy and report back to her with news of your movements. Please be careful when walking the grounds, as the Duke of Medietas has them watched by invisible guards.

  There is a yew tunnel close to the academy wards. I will be waiting there at sunset if you would like to spend some time with me in comfort and safety. Please take care if you decide to venture out.

  Yours in hope,

  Bradwell

  I stared at the letter until the words blurred. This could easily be a trap.

  “The sun sets in twenty minutes,” said Pokeweed. “I can escort you to the tunnel if you would like some fresh air, and your invisibility cloak will keep you hidden if you’re afraid of being spotted by guards.”

  A knot formed in my stomach. Was he kicking me out or shoving me out of the door so I wouldn’t have to decide between Prince Bradwell or him? “Poke—”

  “It’s no bother.” He walked to a peg on the wall and picked up my cloak.

  “I can stay here tonight with you,” I said. “If you have eggs, we can have a rapunzel omelet.”

  Pokeweed turned around, his eyes softening. “Spend time with Prince Bradwell. He might be the key to winning Prince August’s heart.”

  My heart lightened at his words. After returning to the sofa to slip on my shoes, I crossed the room and let him help me with my cloak. He placed the garment on my shoulders with the most featherlight of touches, as though I was made of pixie glass, and he was afraid of making me shatter.

  Once the hood was on my head and I was invisible, Pokeweed placed his palm on the wall and inhaled. An opening appeared in the wall, along with a breeze that carried the scent of sweet apples and blossoms.

  He paused, which I took for my cue to walk in front of him, and I stepped out into the orchard. An orange sun dipped behind the horizon of an indigo sky, lengthening the trees’ shadows.

  If this was Doolish, I would run back inside, as it was around this time that the lesser dark creatures ventured out from the Mound. Instead, Pokeweed and I walked in silence through the quiet orchard with only the rustling leaves as company.