Thorns of Fae

by S L Mason

  Deston's smile carries no hint of worry or concern. Instantly, my mind is slammed with a foggy malaise. I mentally claw at the edges, but in my weakened state, it is nothing more than fingers digging into a muddy cliff unable to find purchase.

  “My dearest Sarah, you survived. I feared the worst on the second day. But here you are with barely a scratch.” His words send an electric thrill through me, causing me to forget the gash in my side and the torn flesh of my wrist. Instead, I bathe in his attention, soaking it up.

  “We should get you back to the arena so all Fae may share the joy I feel at your survival.” His proclamation was enough for me. He extends his arm in front of me. My body wants to place my hand over it, but my mind screams no.

  Janice leans in and murmurs to Deston, “Your Grace, the Kelpie wishes to extend a gift.”

  My weakness returns with a vengeance and my knees shake to keep me upright. Ansta paces to my side, nodding her head, and snorts. Without a by your leave, I find myself seated on her back. She snorts again and moves away from the group. The fog drifts away with every step, like pulling back a curtain.

  “The Kelpie has a mind all of her own.” Deston’s dry laugh follows me.

  Aqualis splashes into the conversation. “Ansta is simply seeking to ingratiate herself, as are we all.” Aqualis’ watery lie speaks volumes—she is covering for the unicorn. I lean into Ansta’s mane humming the hair into reins, her body cradles mine.

  The roar of a crowd off in the distance alerts me to my fleeting respite.

  Lavender informs me, “My Lady, you must gather your strength for the mob, as you must appear strong and triumphant.” Lavender sings changes to my hair and makeup. I don't know why, as no amount of magic would remove the ugly scar covering half my face.

  My shirt is torn from the shoulder, I have a big rip in my bodice, there’s blue-ish red blood all over my lower body, and half my face looks like fairy Barbie sat too close to a blow torch.

  “Lavender, stop primping me, I am a waste of your great talent. I will never be a perfect, pretty Fae.” My curt words cut her ministrations short.

  .

  Deston remarks, “No, your scars make you more Fae than you know. I see the beauty within, not without. Allow Lavender her little touches. It is all she’s good for.” Deston’s proximity brings the fog on anew.

  Lavender stills, pressing her lips together and working them back and forth.

  I bristle at his cruelty. Lavender is not a good-for-nothing. But I can’t wipe away the fog long enough to dig up a retort, and the stupid smile on my face does nothing to reveal my true feelings. Lavender visibly sinks in on herself.

  Deston places his hand on my thigh. “Allow me the honor of holding your hand.” It wasn't a question, but an order. My hand moves of its own accord. I’m his automaton, a puppet. The touch energizes my skin, but it doesn't reach the rest of me, only skims the surface.

  I am bone tired, and the energy closes in like a net covering me. The fog races over me and becomes a wall my mind can’t break through.

  I see the crowd and hear the cheering, but it never touches me. Nikki stands in front like a conquering hero. She kicks her Kelpie in the side and whistles, forcing the unicorn to bow before the crowd. The crowd screams with wild abandon in response.

  “Wild is here,” Aqualis whispers the words, and her voice quakes with fear and trepidation. Ansta shivers, shaking her head from side to side. Lavender’s hair pales.

  Deston’s grip on my hand tightens. “Wild is good, we should welcome the wild,” Deston replies, laughing. It doesn't make sense to me. The wild of the world is everywhere. Why did she say that? I push back on the wall of fog, groping for enough clarity and understanding to grasp their words. Mimicking Ansta, I shiver and shake my head. The Kelpie snorts in approval.

  Words whisper through my mental malaise, “Fight, my lady, you must fight Fae to win it.” Ansta’s thoughts reach me but slide away like water over an oily surface. The heaving in the unicorns’ muscles causes her chest to quake.

  “The Resister survives.” The voice of a strange Fae lifts above the others to announce my arrival.

  Nikki kicks her horse to block my forward motion.

  “I’m the winner here, you are nothing. You barely survived.” Her retort wakes her anger into my foggy world. I can't muster the strength to reply. Ansta rears at the other unicorn, Deston releases my hand, taking several steps away from the dangerous confrontation. The two Kelpie skirt each other.

  “You can’t even control your horse. Pathetic.” Nikki sneers at me. The fog pulls back, and my mind sharpens like a blade to a whetstone.

  I reply, “Control is an illusion as is most of Fae. I thought you would have learned that by now. Ansta is asking your stallion to move. You had your moment in the light, now it’s mine.” I bare my teeth to her. I don't want a moment in the light, but Fae only respect power, and I know I must show some. I pat Ansta’s neck, and she releases a scream at the male water horse and raises a leg as if to kick him. The other Kelpie dances out of our way. Nikki kicks him repeatedly in the belly, to no avail. Ansta snorts and neighs at him. He bows his head and backs away.

  Nikki huffs, “Get in front of them, you worthless beast.” The Kelpie kicks his hindquarters in response to her forceful magic. She tilts to the side and whistles at him again. Ansta moves into the winner’s circle. I whip my head around in time to witness the water horse buck, with Nikki screaming at him. Nikki rumbles her magic in her chest before freeing it to wake over the stallion attacking the poor Kelpie. He responds by lying down on the muddy ground with the force of her abuse.

  I, in turn, pat Ansta’s neck and she tosses her head.

  The rest of Fae screams and cheers. Some are calling my name, others hissing. Deston’s herald rouses the crowd with all nature of rhyming. Deston takes back his seat on the floating throne and drifts away on my adulation. The cornucopia of noise buffets my sides. I raise my hand to push back on the battering wakes, only to find silence and wide staring eyes.

  “You wish to regale us with your challenge?” The herald’s tentative question catches me off guard.

  I am taken aback at the obedience of the crowd. “No, I simply wish for quiet and a meal,” I answer.

  Janice offers his hand, which I promptly take, kicking my legs over the side and sliding off the unicorns’ back.

  My legs threaten to buckle under me, but a force of magic from the water horse keeps me upright. I pat Ansta’s neck, the only way to thank her without words.

  Her oily black eye bats a lash at me as she speaks, “I wish to impart a gift to you, one only I can give.” Ansta’s hindquarters dance to the side, allowing her to turn and face me full on. The arena quiets with the unicorn’s words.

  “Take my gift and be whole.” There at the tip of her crystalline horn glistens a drop of liquid. Ansta tilts her head down, angling it to my mouth.

  Janice voices the answer I’d been wondering, saying, “It’s a healing potion, only a unicorn can heal all that ails you, including your scars.”

  I open my mouth to receive the drop, but a gust of air pushes it off course and it lands on my scarred cheek, spreading a burning sensation over the area. I rub my finger across the pained region, but it’s dry and soft as baby skin. I refocus on the world around me. The breeze waked from Deston. My eyes narrow at him. His eyes widen with false shock, but his aura colors with the deceit of his actions. Deep in the heart of Deston lies the black rot of hate. He despises and envies me.

  I grind my teeth and stretch a smile over my face. The pull from my scar is less than before. Fae may love beauty, but they love a good fight better.

  A black-haired Fae leaned over the side of bleachers. “She carries the blue blood of Tuatha Dé Danan,” he screams the announcement with wild abandon. The crowd roars and shrieks, clawing at one another. They began to clamor over the sides of the protective rail.

  My Unicorn rears back, kicking at the oncoming masses. Ansta orders, �
�Take her before the wild does.” A vise grip takes ahold of my arm, dragging me away from the Unicorn and the mindless horde.

  Janice pulls me along with him and thrust me into the carriage, slamming the door in my face. The body of the carriage shifts with the weight of someone jumping on it. I fall back into the seat with the force of our forward motion. A whip cracks the air ahead of us. I tumble from one side to the other.

  The ache in my side rears its head again, and I instinctively covered my wound with my hand, only to find blood flowing freely again. The shifting in the carriage thrusts me into the seat. The last thing I remember is my face closing in on the door frame before impact.

  CHAPTER 10

  I raise my sword above my head with two hands, then bring it down to waist level and stop. Then, I parry with a diagonal slash from right to left, going over the fighting motions my sword master taught me. Practice makes perfect and will keep me alive. I have to ignore the ache in my side and the almost healed wound in my thigh. They do nothing but remind me I’m nothing more than a Fae pin cushion.

  Janice breaks in, "You're getting better, but you need to move faster. Keep your guard up at all times. Also, you’re not using your pommel or quillons enough. Remember, dead is still dead, whether you stab them in the heart with the blade or eye with a quillon. You can kill someone by bludgeoning them in the head with the pommel of your sword." Janice raises his sword.

  "Right, let's go again." Readying my sword in a defensive position, I lunge forward. Janice dances out of the way with a twirl and the grace of a ballet dancer. If didn't know better, I’d think he was Baryshnikov. Only taller with short black hair.

  I missed, so I retreat, doing my own version of a pirouette, then a fade back to the right. After a short advance forward, I position my feet in an open stance, presenting the true edge of my blade, and slash down. Janice barely makes it out of range. The front of his shirt falls open to reveal a scratched trail of blue blood.

  "Very good, you drew blood. Excellent! You're getting better. A few more enchantments on your armor and weapons and I think we might have you somewhere you can win." His lips curve up slightly at the edges in an approving smile.

  The one I’m always looking for. I don’t know why I want it, but I do.

  "Why exactly do I need to learn to swordfight and be good enough to beat you?" I lower my sword and step back, allowing my shoulders to relax. I touch the tip of the blade down into the ground, then rest my hand lightly on it as if it was a cane.

  "Everything I teach you is so you can win," he quickly responds.

  "They will push for the final challenge, so you need to be ready." He whips his sword around in his hand. I watch as it swirls in a circle.

  The pommel whirls in a circle in his hand before he clasps the hilt again.

  "Great, I don’t feel ready. All those girls… what happens to the ones that survived but weren’t good enough?" I cross one leg in front of the other, putting the tip of my toe on the ground and one hand on my hip.

  Janice tips his head back and heaves a sigh. "You know as well as I do, they died—thousands, perhaps. The only way to end it is if you win. You’ve seen some of your competition; if they win, death will float across the planet led by an army, decimating humanity and anything else. I don't know why I have to keep repeating this to you. I know you understand, and yet you rail against the problem and the process. I know it's not fair, but life is not fair, Sarah. If life was fair our queen would still be alive and you would be on the surface playing games with your friends. Instead, you’re down here killing everything that you can and learning to kill more."

  Janice steps forward.

  "Keep practicing your sword positions, and your footwork." He turns and walks away.

  I thought I improved, so maybe I was getting better. I am never going to beat him. He’s the minister of Joust and War, for God sakes. He’s probably been studying swordplay for 1000 years.

  Snickering in the background draws my attention away from my inner musings. Two Fae, both with light hair. My eyes narrow, Unseelie. Two sets of almond-shaped eyes laugh at me as their hands cover their mouths, and one leans over to whisper in the other’s ear. I can't hear what she said, but I'm sure it was something like ‘she sucks’ and ‘she'll never win’.

  Janice said this whole bullshit fight was about nothing more than a crown, and who would lead all these stupid, simpering, self-absorbed, pointy-eared...

  Technically I'm pointy eared–well, one pointy ear. Perhaps I should stop calling them bastards?

  I take the bait anyway and inquire about their snickering." Something I can help you with?" Sheathing Silver, I put my hand on my hips, letting my fingers dance across the pommel of my sword.

  "No, we were just entertained." She waves her hand around, as if somehow I was a performer, simply here for her amusement. I’m not taking that bait. She wants me to ask if she was entertained or how I was doing or something ridiculous like that. As if I actually care what her opinion is.

  Biting my lower lip, I release it and slowly respond, “Unless the two of you would like to have a special spell sung just for you, I suggest you back off and stop distracting me." One's eyes widen with fear and the other’s narrows with anger.

  "I haven't seen you create any new spells. I don't believe you have the ability to create new magic. The only one who can do that is a queen, a true queen, and you're not a queen." She waves her finger at me. Apparently, she isn't afraid I’ll cut it off, and I desperately want to.

  Truthfully, I can sing some song they haven't heard, bending it to my will. But I’m not going to be baited into her game. She wants to see how powerful I am. I can’t lead these people unless they respect me. Who am I kidding, they are never going to respect me, they’ll always see me as the human. Even if I become queen, my crown will never be safe. Yeah, I may save humanity for a while, but I’ll fade, and then who will take my place?

  "I think you're right, Lily, I don't think she can create new magic. Only a queen can create new magic," the first Fae remarks.

  Wow, minions for fairies and human, are all the same. They just pantomime whatever their crazy leader says.

  I can’t, I just can’t let it go. "I'm sorry, are the both of you laboring under the false delusion I would actually waste my time creating something completely new, just for you?" I look from one set of almond eyes to the other. Lily covers her mouth with the back of her hand again. I'm sure she did it to make herself look cute or adorable, or perhaps she thought it was feminine. I really just find it annoying and the act of a truly shallow mind. It is a calculated move designed specifically to evoke a reaction, my reaction.

  I’m out.

  Turning my back on them, I grumble under my breath, “Why don’t you take a long walk off a short pier?" and move away.

  I hadn’t taken two steps when Lily's shrill voice cuts the air, "Melody, Melody where are you going? Melody."

  I whip my head around to spy Melody’s long hair swaying back and forth with the movement of her hips as she glides under the portico, with Lily trailing behind. I don’t see why she’s so uptight?

  Melody doesn't stop till she was halfway across the drawbridge, and then she turns swiftly and leans out over the water. Lily catches her arm at the last moment with one-foot dangling in open air desperately pulling at her. I stop mid-step.

  “No, Melody, don’t do it.” Lily chokes.

  "What are you doing?” I demand.

  With fear-filled eyes, Lily looks to me. "If she goes in the water she’ll die. The fish in there, they eat Fae and human alike. You have to stop her." The unvoiced please lingers in the air.

  I rush to Melody's side and grab her other arm, straining with my full body weight to pull her back. "Stop, don't kill yourself, for God’s sake," I beg.

  The forward pull of her body ceases, and we all slump on the drawbridge in a pile. Melody’s eyes stare with a glazed, milky-white entrancement. Her bow-shaped mouth hangs slack. I push back with my feet
, sliding over the dirt-covered wood to escape her dead stare.

  Lilly’s accusing voice follows me. "You did this. How could you do this? Fae can't enchant one another. I don't know who you are, but stay away from us." Lily begins humming.

  The wood around me rattles, and the wakes over it change with the new vibrations. Lily’s eyes bore into me, her brows pinched down at the bridge of her nose. All around, the hard surface of the wood softens, like a sponge sagging with my weight.

  "I didn't enchant her, I didn't do anything." My heart speeds up as Lily’s aura changes from purple to black. The air tastes of sinister ash.

  “Stop!” Deston's voice booms against the castle wall, bouncing back to pound in my ears.

  “You may not attack a challenger. She is under my protection. If you wish to fight, call her for a duel.” The chill of his words seeps into my skin as my eyes meet his over Melody’s body. I don’t want to duel anyone.

  The wooden surface around me reverts back to normal. Lily lowers her eyes and bites her lip. The hand on Melody’s chest curls in as she digs her nails into the skin of her palm. A small drop of blood falls on the bridge and a tiny mushroom sprouts up.

  "Sarah, come away from there now." The pull of Deston's voice is more than I can fight off. I obediently stand up, eyes trailing over the amassed crowd to Janice before meeting Deston’s face. Something changes inside me, I can't tear my eyes away from Deston, no matter how desperately I want to dart back to Janice’s face.

  Janice would give me my answers— I trust him. But I could feel the magic forcing me, bending me to its will. It’s wrong; I should have free will, and yet I know I don't. Somehow Deston has taken my free will and entranced me. A stupid smile covers on my face and butterflies fill my belly. They’re fake—none of it is real.

  I demand, "What happened to her? Why did she decide to walk into a withering pond of Fae-eating fish? And who keeps Fae-eating fish around their castle? Honestly, you people." He could control my body, but not my mouth. I’d freed it, but how?

  Deston returns my inquiry, "It's not important, Sarah. What is important is you've discovered a new ability, an amazing ability. We shall have to discuss it." He offers his hand, and I automatically reach for and take it. I can hear the calculating in his voice. We shall have to discuss it? As if it is his to wield, his new ability? Deston leads me away from the scene. Lily continues whimpering in the background. She is afraid.