by H. L. Burke
“I thought I saw someone with a tray of edibles.” This wasn’t completely a lie. “Fairy dinners are delectable, but a man of my size needs a bit more. I wouldn’t mind something to top off my insides.”
“Oh, yes, well, I can see that you are provided for.” She straightened. “Congratulations on passing the first trial, but remember, that one was merely a test of wit. There is more to earning a place at my hand than cleverness and quick thinking. I need a man of grit, determination, and strength.” She ran her hand down his arm, not so subtly feeling his muscles beneath his shirt.
In spite of his desire to play along, he jerked away. “I hope you get what you deserve, then.”
And he meant that, though not in the way she interpreted it, considering that she didn’t immediately shout for her guards and have him skewered.
A familiar voice gave a muffled shout followed by a crash. Devin stiffened. “Excuse me, your majesty. I could use a breath of fresh air.”
She opened her mouth, but he brushed by her before she could say something that might keep him from investigating Sevaine’s cry. He rounded the fountain and found a small knot of fairy women laughing as the felys slave-girl scrambled about the floor, trying to pick up spilled cheese wedges and return them to the silver platter she’d been carrying the last time Devin had caught sight of her.
“So clumsy, kitty girl,” one of the fairies teased. “And here I thought you felys always landed on your feet.”
“The tray isn’t a felys, my lady,” Sevaine replied through clenched teeth. “Though I can see how you would make that mistake after consuming nearly half a jug of winterberry wine.”
The fairy went rigid. “Are you accusing me of over-indulgence? When you’re the one dropping trays?”
“She’s probably stealing drinks while the guests aren’t looking!” another fairy called out. “We should tell the chief server and have her beaten for her thievery.”
The fire in Sevaine’s dark eyes faded, and she cringed into herself. “I have stolen nothing. Please, let me be so I can work.”
“Not until you apologize for your accusations as well as your clumsiness!” The first fairy stomped her foot. “You should be grateful for a chance to walk among us, you flea-ridden, half-beast!”
Devin cleared his throat loudly and pushed through the gathering crowd of gawking fairy women. “Am I interrupting something?”
The fairies gasped, then twittered, fanning themselves with broad leaves that they pulled from their sashes. Devin noted that two of this group, including the one bullying Sevaine, had tiny wings budding from their shoulder blades, not nearly large enough to fly upon, but probably a symbol of status in fairy culture, considering the only other fairy at court he’d seen with visible wings was Agalea.
The purple-winged one blushed. “Oh, our guest of honor! No, please join us. We were just chastising this lazy slave for her clumsiness.” She stepped forward and ground her slippered heel into Sevaine’s fingers as the girl reached to claim another cheese wedge. Sevaine gave a muffled yelp.
Devin’s jaw clenched. “Don’t do that.”
The fairy blinked. “Excuse me, my lord?”
Devin bent down and pulled Sevaine to her feet. He then angled himself between her and the group of friends. “Where I’m from, we treat those who serve us with courtesy. Not only is it good manners, but it’s simply common sense, if you don’t want them spitting in your food. Did you enjoy your meal tonight? I hope you appreciate the taste of saliva.”
The fairy’s skin went from snowy white to mossy green. She sputtered and stammered then stumbled away.
Devin turned to face the remaining crowd. “There’s nothing to see here. Move along.”
With faces filled with bewilderment, the onlookers dispersed.
Flushing, Sevaine bent and reclaimed her tray. Squatting next to her, Devin fished several chunks of cheese from the floor and deposited them next to the rest of the ruined hors devours.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she murmured, continuing to gather the scattered food. “We don’t want people to think we’re associated with each other.”
“I don’t want people to think they can treat you like that.” He scowled.
Her blush deepened. “I can take it. It’s part of the job description, and I don’t want to endanger you—”
“You could just say ‘thank you’ and accept that I’ve got your back.” He caught her eyes. “I owe you that after what you did for me with the first trial.”
Her blush deepened. “Thank you.” She swept a few last crumbs onto the platter and stood.
“I’m guessing that tray didn’t hit the ground due to your negligence.” He frowned.
“My negligence not to watch for Lady Nabina’s foot in my path, yes.” She scowled at her platter. “Waste of good cheese.”
He put his hand by his mouth and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Walk out of the room, wait a few minutes, then come back in and serve the lot of them the same cheese. They don’t merit any better.”
She laughed, then dropped her eyes. “They aren’t all like that. If they were—They just aren’t.”
Devin examined her face. There it was again, that deep sadness that hovered at the edge of her good-tempered optimism like an invading army laying siege. It had to be the reason she was still fighting to stop the trials and save fairy lives, even though they were, from what he could see, uniformly terrible to her.
“Sevaine, if you don’t mind me asking—”
“Sir Devin!”
At the queen’s shout, Sevaine blanched and scurried away, still clutching her tray of cheese. Though he longed to chase after her, Devin braced himself and greeted Agalea.
“There you are.” She tilted her head. “Someone just whispered to me that you’re interfering with my guests disciplining the staff.”
“Disciplining, no. Tormenting, yes.”
“I suppose it shows compassion that you pity those beneath your status, but really, there are better ways to waste your time.”
“With you, for instance?” He flashed a charming smile longing to tell her what he thought of her outright rather than through vague sarcasm she’d never even get.
“Well, you are my guest of honor.” She snatched another goblet of wine from a passing server and thrust it in his face. “Drink. Be merry. Perhaps after the meal you can regale us with tales of your travels. A knight such as yourself must’ve faced many adventures and worthy foes.”
“A few.” Between the angry innkeepers and jilted barmaids, there’d been a dragon, some brigands, and even a nest of Rocs. Admittedly, he’d mainly tangled with them in an attempt to better his financial situation and get himself out of holes he’d dug himself into. Still, if he wanted to, he could twist any of those encounters into a decent story. He sipped at the drink. Well, what harm could a little wine and talk do?
Chapter Eight
A heavy thunk woke Devin, vibrating through his skull and into the mushy parts of his brain—parts that felt as if someone had stomped on them repeatedly with metal-soled shoes. He groaned and cracked one eye open only to be full-on assaulted by a burst of sunlight brighter than any light had a right to be.
“Well, I hope last night was worth it.” Sevaine sniffed.
Last night?
Eyes squeezed tight to keep out the cursed sun, Devin forced himself to patch together the evening before. He remembered arriving at the party, eating dinner, then after that … a vague recollection of sitting in the center of a crowd of adoring women, telling tales and sipping wine.
He peeled himself off the mattress. His feet, still booted, apparently, hit the ground, but he couldn’t get his rump off the bed, or his eyes open for that matter. He sat with his pounding head cradled in his hand, taking slow, shallow breaths and ignoring the queasiness that threatened to send whatever remnants of the night before that remained in his gut onto the ground in front of him.
“Here, take this. It’s garnet-berry j
uice with a dash of frog ginger. My mother used to swear by it.” She clasped his wrist and guided his hand to take a wooden cup. He cautiously held it under his nose. It smelled fruity … safe enough. He took a drink, and his whole face contorted in a pucker that spread throughout his body until even his toes curled. Worried the stuff would eat away at his teeth, he swallowed the noxious acid. His eyes snapped open.
“Berry juice? Are you sure that’s not straight vinegar?” He coughed.
“Do you feel any better?” She tilted her head to one side.
“No, I do …” He paused. His eyes were open, and the sun didn’t seem to be bothering him. The pain in his head, also, had gone from a constant hammering to a low pulsation. “A little.” He forced another sip down his throat. Now that he was prepared, the kick of it didn’t hit him so hard. “How did I get back here?”
“Myself and two other serving girls, with Olysa supervising. I had your feet, if it matters.” She angled away from him, twisting her ponytail around her hand and tugging on it in a way that looked quite painful.
“Huh.” Warmth spread over him. He wasn’t a stranger to a night of carousing. During his academy days, he could keep up with the best of them and still make his morning classes. “I didn’t think I’d had that much.”
She released her hair which sprang away from her. If hair could look relieved, her hair did in that moment. “It’s probably not how much you had so much as what you had.” She dipped a cloth in a bucket of water that sat on the table then crossed to him and pressed it to his forehead. The cool water seemed to seep into his skin, further easing his headache. A faint smell of mint lingered over the cloth. “My mother would never let me try fairy wine because she said it had an unpredictable effect on other races, felys included.”
“Did I do anything I should regret?” He moaned. While the memories of the night before were as disconnected as shards from a broken bottle, none of them seemed particularly awful or humiliating when considered individually. He recalled a lot of laughing, story telling, and a little dancing was all.
“Well, if you wouldn’t regret flirting with every single female in Agalea’s court, then no, nothing.” Her voice had a slight edge to it. Apparently she didn’t approve.
“Sorry, Mom. I’ll be more reserved next time.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Do you want something to eat? That’s officially why I’m here.” She crossed to the table again and picked up a basket. “It’s well past noon. When I dropped in this morning to bring you your breakfast and found you still out cold, I figured you’d be starving whenever you did awaken.” She took out a loaf of bread and a small wheel of cheese with a mustard-yellow rind. When she broke into the interior of the cheese with a blunt knife, soft, white cream oozed out. Devin’s mouth watered.
A few bites in, he caught her eye and nodded to the rest of the loaf. “You want some?”
She hesitated, then shrugged. “I guess I could eat.” She reached into the basket again and brought out a small jar. “I like mine with a little honey. I was going to suggest it to you, but you seemed in such a hurry to stuff it down your throat, I didn’t want to stop you.”
They ate in silence for while her strange berry drink and the food had eased his symptoms, he didn’t feel all that chipper or talkative. After a bit, though, as the bread settled in his stomach and the sweetness of the honey contrasting with the salty bite of the cheese awakened his senses, he took to watching her out of the corner of his eye. She took large, hungry bites, not at all like the dainty ladies at the fairy banquet the night before, or even most human women he’d known.
After their lunch, she tried to teach him some of the fairy language from within the books, but it all seemed gibberish to him, even more so than he’d have thought a language he didn’t know should be.
“I mean, I’ve heard priests go on and on in Latin, and even though I didn’t understand most of it—well, any of it—I was able to at least pick up words and probably could’ve repeated key phrases if pressed.” He tapped the still-wiggling letters on the book’s page. “This? It’s like I never hear the same word twice.”
“It’s probably some sort of magic to keep non-fae from stealing their secrets. I could translate this for you, if you’d like. I mean, felys don’t have their own magic, but I can read fairy, at least.”
He squinted at the book. “What’s the story about?”
“It’s not really a story. More a series of poems about the splendors of fairyland and the joys of love.”
He snorted. “I think I’ll pass.”
She stood and strode to the door. “You know, it’s surprising that they let me come down here by myself and aren’t checking up on us.” She pushed the door open.
He raised his eyebrows. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might not be locked in like usual, though he supposed it made sense. They would’ve had to allow her to unlock the door to bring him food.
He stood and gazed over her. Beyond her stretched a green lawn, upon which still dozed a half-dozen winged hounds.
“I guess maybe they think the hounds are enough of a deterrent to me running off.” As if knowing Devin had spoken about it, the nearest hound raised its muzzle from the grass and bared its teeth. “They’re probably right.”
“Oh, yes, as long as those things are watching you, you’re not going anywhere.” She tapped her fingers against the doorframe. “At least, not anywhere the queen doesn’t want you to go. It’s possible she’s only instructed them to keep you from leaving the kingdom, or the palace grounds. If so, we might risk taking a walk. There is something not far from here, still within the gardens, that I wouldn’t mind showing you.”
His ears perked up. “The tower, maybe?”
“No.” Her smile faded. “I checked before I visited. She already has that under guard. She’s even setting up benches so favored courtiers can witness what I’m sure she assumes will be your failure and death.”
“Delightful.” He shook his head ruefully. “Then what?”
“Let’s see if we can even get out of here first.” She strode out of his cottage leaving the door wide open behind her. The hounds didn’t stir. She beckoned to Devin. “Come on, Dev. Worse thing that happens, they snap at you and you dart back into the safety of the cottage like a scared rabbit.”
He arched his eyebrows. “Who you calling a rabbit, cat-girl?”
She threw her hands in the air. “Well, then stay there if you want to. What do I care?”
“Hold up.” With a deep breath, he hazarded a foot over the threshold. The hounds raised their heads as one. He took a step towards Sevaine. The animals followed his movements but didn’t rise. Deep breath, another step. The hounds lurched to their feet and stood, ears back, narrow snouts aimed at him like pointing blades.
Sevaine swallowed. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
The tremor in her voice somehow steeled his own resolve. Pushing aside his nerves, he strode several paces in her direction. The hounds loped after him, but did not charge.
“I think we’re all right.” He took her hand. “Let’s just not make any sudden moves.”
“That seems wise.” She guided him down a side path, the parade of hounds trotting along behind them, wings pasted to their backs, eyes alert. The path they took was narrow, marked only by moss-covered flagstones. Willow trees grew along either side, providing a curtain of greenery that they occasionally had to push through to continue on their way. Every time a wall of green willow leaves fell between them and the hounds, the lead canine would give a warning growl. However, as long as Devin paused and waited for them to catch up, the beasts would settle down as soon as they had him in sight again, allowing Devin and Sevaine to continue on their way.
“I haven’t been this carefully watched since I tried wooing the mayor’s daughter in front of her six older brothers.” He chuckled, trying to ease the tension growing between his shoulder blades.
Sevaine’s fingers tightened around his. “I ne
ver thought to ask. You … you’ve mentioned sweethearts before. Do you have a beloved back in the mortal lands? One who will be saddened if you don’t come home?”
“No. I mean I’m no stranger to trying with the ladies, but it doesn’t seem to take, as it were.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “That’s good …” Her cheeks reddened, and she blurted out, “I mean, it would be a shame if someone were missing you.”
He slowed his pace, suddenly conscious of her tiny fingers intertwined with his. He stroked the side of her hand with his thumb. She was so petite, her hands not even half the size of his own, her head only reaching to his chest. Tiny, pretty, easily mistaken for helpless, but he knew better. He had seen the ferocity and determination in her eyes, the way she worked to undermine Agalea’s traps for him. She was a fighter—a fighter who for whatever reason had chosen to fight for him. Something within him softened, and he had to look away from her.
“So, where are we going?” he asked after an awkward silence with only the sound of the rustling leaves and the panting hounds.
“It’s just through here.” She pointed ahead to where the willow-lined path ended to be replaced by a hedge of yew, speckled with bright red berries. In the center of the hedge was a stone archway dripping with grape vines laden with purple grapes as large and round as an ox’s eyeball.
“There doesn’t seem to be any logic as to what plants are in blossom or giving fruit here,” he commented, plucking a grape as they passed under the arch. “I swear, I’ve seen plants blossoming that should only be flowering in the spring right next to fruit which should only be ripe in the fall—and everything in between, all at once.”
Her lips curled into a smirk. “Do I have to say it?” They stepped through the arch into what seemed to be a hedge maze. Narrow paths lined with eye-high yew hedges led in either direction with multiple paths branching off them. The winged hounds took to the air and circled overhead, rather than navigate the narrow passages.
