“I do.” I admitted. It was just much further than he thought.
“It’s nice to have the company, even if it is a mystery girl who won’t tell me anything about herself.”
I rubbed the side of my neck. “I don’t really know you.”
“It’s okay. Like I said, I like the company and I said I’d take care of you. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want.”
“You never did tell me who you promised that you’d take care of me.” I pointed out. “The people who saved me.”
“Saved you from what?”
I gulped. “I fell in the sea,” I said earnestly, without detailing the where.
“Ah.” He tugged at his collar. He was dressed head to toe in typical light fae fashion; I’d seen enough in the papers Morgana would obtain. I never had put much thought to where she got most of her items. They weren’t from the local market, that was for sure. They wore clothes inspired by nature, instead of the gothic attire of the dark fae, but all fae shared the same eccentric tastes to go overboard with their clothing choices. His shirt was made from leaves that had been dipped in a substance to stop them from decaying. Twigs weaved in and out of the net beneath the leaves. They shimmered from fairy dust, traces of magic left behind when the fae used a spell. His hair, unkempt and short, hung around his pointed ears. A metal crown of golden leaves was nestled in it. Everything about him shined like the sun, tempting me to touch, but I didn’t want to get burned. Not like the last time.
His smile was contagious, and when he flashed those pearly whites, I couldn’t help but smile back.
“I’ll go make some food then. Do you want cream?”
“Um….” I hesitated. “I guess.”
He looked at me incredulously. “You guess? It’s the best thing in the world!”
I’m sure he was exaggerating, but nevertheless, I encouraged him. “I have no choice then!”
My mother had always prevented me from having too much that was sweet. She worried about my image and didn’t want me indulging in tarts, cream, sugar, or anything unhealthy. While I watched everyone else please their senses, I stuck to a strict diet. I wasn’t used to living in a world without rules.
The flapping of wings distracted me. I averted my gaze to Buttercup. It was strange, watching Cedric with a pixie. Mostly because they belonged in Magaelor. He was smitten with her, excited by everything she did, watching her fly around the room. Of course, I was accustomed to them. They were as common as flies back home.
“You should feed her first,” I said.
His smile dropped as he rushed to her, looking guilty for forgetting about his new pet. He didn’t look like he had ever had to take care of anything or anyone before, so I imagined it would be easy for him to forget about her needs. I made a mental note to remind him of his duties to take care of the creature he had illegally imported under my kingdom’s nose. I did my best not to let the aggravation stay in me, and instead I watched as he pulled out a small bowl and filled it with a large dollop of honey and a handful of berries.
“Eat up, little one,” he told her and moved the bowl in front of her. He turned toward me. “You go get dressed. You’re far too distracting in my shirt like that.”
I ignored his wide grin and mischievous eyes, then left for the bedroom. I hadn’t expected him to make food for us. He was far too breezy to want to do things for others off his own back. I’d met so many people like him to know their type, or so I’d thought, but he surprised me. The clanking of pots, tinkering of glasses, and a couple of small groans escaped from the kitchen. I could hear them from the bedroom. A yeasty and sweet aroma followed.
I quickly pulled on my dress, the only clothing I had, and walked back into the dining area. I took my place at the table, then rested my hand against my cheek and looked up at the ceiling. The white pattens swirled together. Focusing on one would make the others look like they were moving. We didn’t have houses like this back home. Everything was made from stone to withstand the harsh winters, snow, and relentless storms that invaded our coastline.
Ah, home.
I wondered how much longer I would be able to evade questions about it. Cedric hadn’t pressed me yet on who I was. I knew the type; he had secrets of his own. Honest people were always the nosiest. Few people respected privacy anymore, and while I appreciated that trait, I knew his patience in my avoidance would only last so long. It was unusual to spend time with someone and not know anything about them. He was helping me, meaning his interest in me was piqued. I had to keep the façade of the mysterious girl if I was to use him to find a way back home, or, at the least, a place to stay while I found a way back myself. I looked down at my dress of purple and silver. I fiddled with one of the black cotton roses.
“It’s ready,” he called.
My stomach cartwheeled when I looked down at the redberry tart lined with short crust. The aroma of the butter and flour was intoxicating. A large dollop of cream leaned off to the side. A sprinkle of sugar coated the smooth jam between the berries.
I closed my eyes once the first mouthful tingled on my tongue. The pastry crumbled between my teeth, and the berries contrasted the buttery taste with a sharp, sour one. The sugar took away any bitterness. I opened my eyes and licked my lips. I stabbed into another slice, this time taking a good helping of cream with it. It was smooth, heavy, and sweet.
I wolfed it down, then scraped the bowl for the remnants left at the bottom. That was the best thing I had ever tasted. I flushed red when I looked up at Cedric, feeling like I had done something wrong. He was only halfway through eating his.
“Did you like it?”
“No. It was awful,” I said, deadpan. Then laughed.
I turned my bowl over and grinned as he stared at the emptiness.
His forehead creased and eyebrows rose upward. “Wow.”
“You’re an excellent cook.”
His eyes brightened. “Was that a compliment?”
I laughed.
“Well, thank you. I don’t get the chance to cook much at home. It’s not a skill I am renowned for.”
“It should be.”
He gave me a lopsided grin. “You’re sweet.”
I eyed Buttercup, who was sitting on top of the mantle above the fireplace. She had finished her berries and honey and was looking around. “You should take her out.”
“I can’t. You know that.” His eyes narrowed. “It’s illegal to own a pixie here.”
“I meant at night when no one is around. Is there a place nearby where no one really goes? She needs fresh air.”
He leaned in. “You never did tell me how you know so much about pixies.”
I itched the back of my neck. “I’ve read about them.”
“Books about Magaelor are banned here, so that’s a lie. You know I can tell when you’re not telling the truth, right?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “It’s not hard to get your hands on information or something illegal if you really want it.” My gaze flicked to Buttercup.
“Touché.” His eyes twinkled.
A loud knock on the door startled me. “Who’s that?” My heart hammered against my ribs.
“It’s a friend of mine.” He looked at Buttercup. “Go hide.”
She nodded, then flew out of the dining area and toward the bedrooms. I wished I could follow her, but I didn’t want to risk acting strangely. I was sweating by the time he opened the door.
“Acoris!” Cedric greeted the man enthusiastically, a sentiment his guest clearly did not share. “Come in, come in.”
The visitor was in his late twenties. He was a solis and carried himself with the grace of a nobleman. He glanced in my direction and stared at me for longer than I’d have liked. “You look familiar.” His accent was nasally with clipped endings.
Sketches of me with the rest of my family were consistently plastered on every newspaper in Magaelor. It wasn’t foolish to assume he might have seen one in his time. As Cedric had said, Mag
aelorean literature was banned, so I presumed that meant our papers too, but like I’d pointed out, anyone could get their hands on anything if they wished to.
“I don’t think so,” I finally said, then averted my gaze.
Cedric laughed and slapped Acoris’s shoulder. “Good luck getting anything out of her.” He joked, but suspicion crowned the stranger’s eyes. I held my breath as Cedric escorted him into the living room.
I watched them like a hawk. Every micromovement from the man flamed my apprehension. I swallowed hard. Getting out of Bluewater was a good idea. It was the province where the royal castle and family were, and I had more chance of being spotted here than anywhere else.
There were other provinces. I remembered them being mentioned in the newspapers Morgana had, but I had no clue where they were. I needed a map. Perhaps I could find a way home somewhere else, where the chances of being recognized were miniscule.
Words of “shadow market” and “trade” floated from their conversation, capturing my attention. Cedric kept glancing in my direction as he negotiated. The conversation became indecipherable when they lowered their voices to a whisper.
At the end of their talk, Cedric stomped toward me looking flustered.
“Let’s go.” Frustration laced his words.
I scrunched up my nose. “What happened?”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing of importance.”
“It didn’t look unimportant.”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds and let out a lengthy exhale. “I’ll explain later.”
The man dropped a package onto an empty chair carelessly. It was wrapped with brown paper and tied with string. He turned, gave us both a look up and down, then opened the door and walked out of it. When the door slammed shut, I spun to face Cedric. “Where are we going?” I asked, perplexed.
“I have to take care of business and I should probably get you home before your family begin to worry.”
“I don’t have anywhere to go,” I admitted. “I’m alone.”
The words sank in, uncomfortably nestling into my chest where my heart ached for home.
His gaze softened. He opened his mouth to speak but chose not to for whatever reason.
“Let me help you,” I said quickly, not wanting sympathy or more questions. “I know a lot about trade.”
He tensed his shoulders.
“I heard parts of your conversation.” I paused. “Look, I’m not against anything illegal, I promise. I really couldn’t care less. I need gold. I promise, if you find that I’m not helpful, I’ll leave peacefully.”
The corner of his lips twitched. He fumbled his fingers, staring at me with fixed determination.
He wanted to know more; I saw it in his eyes. “I know I said you didn’t need to tell me, but I have to know. How did you end up here? You said you fell into the sea. How?”
I fiddled with the pendant on my necklace, then looked up. Uncertain of exactly where I was going with each word, I started with a sigh and length of silence, hoping he would take it as reminiscence.
We both sat at the table. He took the seat across from me.
“Answer me.”
“Why does it matter?”
He leaned forward. “What are you hiding?”
I had heartburn from the food. It bit up my throat and touched my tongue with acid. I made a face that he mistook for something else.
“I’m trying to make my way home.”
“Where is home?”
“Close.”
“No.” He held up his index finger.
My breath hitched. I rubbed my forehead, growing more frustrated.
“You really shouldn’t try to dupe a faery. It’s never gone well.”
I breathed slowly. I was trapped. I scanned the room. I could still run if I left now. I tried to stand, but he grabbed my hand across the table before I did.
“Don’t be scared,” he told me. “Whatever you’re hiding, I won’t judge or persecute you, if you want to work with me, you need to trust me.”
I pulled my hand back from his and pushed my chair back. It scraped against the floor. “Sorry, but I can’t.” I stood, then rushed across the room to the front door.
I thrusted it open. He watched me, slack-jawed, as I ran out of it.
NINE
I pulled a small twig out of my hair. Somehow one had stayed, despite my thorough cleaning and washing of my hair last night before bed. I pressed my thick lips together, then whistled out the middle as I walked past a row of white houses with thatched roofs. The scent of a blueberry pie wafted from an open window, making my stomach grumble. I wished I’d found a map, but instead, I would soldier on blindly. Morning sank into the baby blues of afternoon. I walked past a stall of green and red apples. I reached out and grabbed one while the man at the stall dealt with another customer. I hurried away, then bit into it with a satisfying crunch.
The streets narrowed when I reached the outskirts. Cobbled paths roughened to gravel as I approached a neighboring village. A small lane twisted and turned, leading me through houses. Naked chickens hung from silver hooks. The stench of rotten eggs lingered in the stagnant air. Snorting sounds neared when I rounded a corner. Wood fences lined dirt roads, which led up to farms where pigs rolled in mud and cows grazed on tall grass. I walked up a well-trodden path until I reached the village square.
I could smell wood burning from inside the red-bricked houses. The temperature had quickly dipped, but the heat returned within hours.
Large hills of green sat behind the lines of homes, hiding the tall trees that peeked over their heads. Clouds of white fizzled into the blue, and the sky darkened. Purples and pinks blotted the horizon.
Fog crept around the small houses. Drunken men and women jeered as they entered the inns, and unsavory characters met in back alleys. Lights in the windows flickered, then extinguished as slivers of moonlight hit the roads. Stark echoes of my footsteps were all that could be heard as I neared the outskirts. Sparse thin trees with bare branches came into view.
Heading toward the shadows of the green hills, I took a minute to catch my breath. I wished, more than ever, that I had my staff. It was long, sturdy, made of gray wood that knotted and curved up into a handle, and had a sparkling sapphire embedded into the top. It was so clear in my memory, I wished I could conjure it. Unfortunately, a sorcerer without their relic or staff was powerless.
I was so thirsty, my throat burned. I would kill for a cup of refreshing, cold water. With my staff, I could have cast a spell to lead me to where there was running water. I hated not having my powers for the first time in my life. It was odd not having the world at my fingertips. Although, like all things in life, even magic had laws we had to obey. No sorcerer could replicate precious metals like gems or gold, which was why our coinage was made from it. We couldn’t create something that didn’t already exist. We had no influence over the laws of nature, which prevented us from influencing the weather. We couldn’t breathe life into inanimate objects or bring back the dead. That last one was necromancy, but no one had seen or heard of a necromancer in centuries. There was a natural order to everything, including immortality. It didn’t exist, but the fae would have us believe otherwise. There was always a way to die. I’d seen it firsthand with Jasper.
As evening ran into twilight, I reached the shadows from the hills. Below them was a walkway leading between a crevice, trees lining the way into a forest. On a creaking wooden gate, a sign hung that read Do Not Enter. Branches reached out like hands in the night, luring me into the forest’s grip.
Pursing my lips, I turned around in a full circle, seeing the village houses in the distance. The last light was extinguished, leaving me standing in the cold with only the white from the moon to offer any guidance. I climbed up onto the gate, snagging the bottom of my dress. I hissed, then pulled it up, saving the rest of the fabric. I fell over the other side and inhaled sharply. I brushed the dirt off the silver tulle, then looked up. A long, winding path c
ontinued through the tall trees. I looked back at the comfort of the village. I understood why people banded together, even if they separated themselves with bricks and water. Flocking to cities and towns to live side by side was for safety, for community. Out in nature, with no one around, the eerie silence and loneliness made my skin crawl. A feeling of dread washed through me as I forced one foot in front of the other.
I wanted to cry. My tears pressed hard against the corners of my eyes, waiting for a second of weakness to break me down. I let them fall. I didn’t have to hide who I was in the dark. I was afraid. If my parents could see me now, they’d be disappointed. I wiped my tear-stained cheeks and sniffed loudly. I shuffled my feet against the dirt on the path until I reached the end, then stepped onto the shrubbery of the forest floor and shivered. It was so dark, I could barely make out my hand in front of my face. Twigs scratched my arms and legs as I fought through the overgrowth. My breaths wisped through the silent night. I reached a small clearing, and the shadows of the trees surrounded me in a circle. I reached out and touched bark on a trunk.
Roots had broken free from the hard mud, creating an earthy seat for me to curl up into.
Unblinking eyes of owls and other small animals watched me from the bushes. I let my mind drift from thought to thought. I was scared to close my eyes.
My worries haunted me. With only silence for company and rough bark for comfort, I pushed myself into fond memories of a place where I was revered, adored, and my every need taken care of. I, like any royal, got bored with having everything, but now I craved the castle and guards who kept me safe.
I wondered, with the heir to the throne missing, if my cousin Edgar had been brought in for training. The thought made me feel sick. Although I did admire his dedication to peace, but he was corruptible. He separated himself from us long ago, choosing to live in the fae’s kingdom. I never did know how he had managed to pull it off. He wasn’t fit to rule. Berovia had wanted to get their hands on Magaelor for the longest time, and with someone like Edgar in power, it would be all too easy for them. They’d ban ancestral magic from being practiced−because they mistakenly thought of it as a form on necromancy, which it was not−and our link to our ancestors, which we strengthened with rituals performed under the moon, would be weakened. I couldn’t let it happen, and if I was the only thing standing between it, then I needed to survive. However, my fight was beginning to waver. The truth was, no matter how I wanted to shape it, I was alone in a kingdom three times the size of mine surrounded by enemies, with no powers or a way back. Everything looked pretty hopeless.
The Fate of Crowns: The Complete Trilogy: A YA Epic Fantasy Boxset Page 7
