The Fae King's Curse

by Jamie Schlosser

  Astrid nods. “I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did. When you were a child, the pull wasn’t as strong. But after you became an adult, the bond would’ve been very hard for him to resist.”

  I rub my temple as my head swims. Obviously, I know it’s possible for a fae and a human to be soul mates. After all, it happened for Brittney. I just never thought that was the case for me.

  “I figured since I’m human…”

  “You are, mostly,” Astrid replies, stepping close to me with a magnifying glass. She grabs my arm and pushes up my sleeve before inspecting the veins on my inner wrist. “But you’ve got some fae blood in you. On your maternal side. Probably a great great grandmother.” She pauses at the crease of my elbow. “Nah, add one more great. It’s faint, but it’s there.”

  “You’re saying one of my ancestors got knocked up by a fae dude?”

  “How long has your family owned your land?” She looks up at me.

  “Like, five generations.”

  “A lot of portal access there.” Letting go, she walks back to the table. “It’s likely she had a tryst with the man, never even knowing he wasn’t human.”

  “Is he still alive?” If so, I’ve got a distant grandfather here.

  Returning to the bowl, she gazes into it with the magnifying glass. “Nope. He was a lowly Day soldier who stole portals from his general. He was caught and executed shortly after his crime.”

  My sneakers squeak as I begin pacing again. “This changes everything. I have to tell Kirian.”

  I can’t stop smiling.

  I don’t have to ask Astrid to pull off some impossible task. I don’t have to give Kirian up.

  Grabbing my coat and hat from the hook next to the sink where Astrid told me to hang them before we played beauty salon, I hastily put them on.

  I imagine Kirian’s face when I tell him the news.

  His brilliant smile.

  How happy he’ll be.

  He’ll get his sight back and we’ll be together. It’s a scenario I’ve never considered.

  But it’s real.

  “Thank you, Astrid. Thank you so much.”

  I’m rushing for the doorway when she says, “Are you sure you don’t have more questions?”

  Well, yeah. I’d have a whole load of them if I could think straight. But as it is, the only thing I want right now is to get to Kirian.

  “I’ll be back,” I call over my shoulder.

  I hesitate at the rock wall. It doesn’t look penetrable, but I saw Kirian walk through it.

  Deciding to risk a few bruises, I surge ahead. I don’t feel any kind of barrier, and suddenly, darkness is all around me once again.

  “Kirian?”

  No answer.

  “Kirian? Damon? I’m here.”

  Nothing.

  Seconds tick by, and panic slowly creeps in.

  He said he’d be right outside the door.

  Oh, God.

  What if something happened to him? What if he got attacked by some awful deadly creatures? What if he’s hurt?

  Despite the cold air, sweat beads on my forehead and my hands get clammy.

  I can’t see, and even if I could, I have no idea where I’m going. I don’t know how to get out of here.

  I’m completely helpless and unprotected.

  Lost.

  Astrid. I should go back. She can help.

  But when I turn around, my hands connect with nothing. I swing my arms, but all I get is air.

  Shit. I must’ve gotten turned around.

  My fear escalates when I hear a howl somewhere in the pitch-black abyss. I need to calm down and think rationally.

  I can’t be far from Astrid’s. I literally just walked out her door, so it can’t be more than a few feet away.

  I back up five paces and try to feel behind me. Then I step to the left. To the right. As I go forward, I feel like I’m stuck in a bad line dance.

  My hand grazes something, but it’s not rock. It feels like feathers.

  Not good. Not good at all.

  Screaming, I fall backward and land hard on my butt. “Kirian! Help!”

  Someone grabs me from behind, and for a second, I’m relieved. I’m saved.

  Only, I’m not. I get a whiff of alcohol, sweat, and dirt. Not Kirian’s scent.

  Before I can cry out, a hand clamps over my mouth and the stranger drags me backward, pulling me deeper into the Shadowlands.

  Kirian

  It’s hard to keep track of time when I’m in so much pain, but I’m estimating it’s been about two hours since I left Quinn in Astrid’s cave.

  The iron chains burn my flesh. It’s a net of some sort, and the tangled web is marring my skin from head to toe. Even through my clothes, I can feel the metal affecting me.

  Damon lies next to me in the same predicament, occasionally writhing and moaning.

  We were set up. As soon as we came out of Astrid’s, we were ambushed. Someone was ready for us.

  “If I get my hands on that witch, I swear on all the stars…” I grit out, finishing my threat with a hiss.

  “It wasn’t her doing,” Damon insists. “I swear it.”

  “How would you know? You really trust her that much?”

  “Yes.”

  As if talking about Astrid summons her presence, she appears next to us. I can smell the mixture of soot from her fireplace, ginger, and a hint of Quinn.

  “You boys need a hand?”

  “That’d be great,” Damon rasps. “I’m kinda wondering what took you so long.”

  “Figured you two could handle yourselves. Big burly kings, and all.” Sarcasm is evident in her voice.

  “Is she always this cheeky?” I ask Damon, and he sighs as the iron is removed.

  “Yes. It’s one of the things I love most about her.”

  Next, the net is slowly peeled away from me, taking a few chunks of skin with it. Damn. Quinn’s seen me messed up before, but this is on another level. I just hope my appearance doesn’t scare her too badly.

  Limping, Damon and I follow Astrid through her door, but when we get inside, I don’t sense Quinn. I sniff the air, but her scent is old. Lingering. Stale.

  “Where is she?” I demand.

  “Who?”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. You know who.”

  Taking her time, Astrid putters to her rocking chair and lowers to the seat. Her fingers get to work on something. She’s braiding.

  I storm over and swipe the rug out of her hands. Finding the end she’s weaving, I feel the smooth texture and take a whiff.

  It’s Quinn’s hair.

  “What did you do to her?” My roar is so loud the rocks shake and some dust crumbles from the ceiling.

  “Calm down.” Damon puts a hand on my shoulder, but I shrug it off. “Quinn gave it to her willingly.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. It’s Astrid’s payment. Why do you think I get haircuts every year? It’s not for my pretty boy image.”

  “Quinn left a while ago,” Astrid says coolly, snatching the rug away before going back to work. “She got the answers she wanted.”

  “And?” This woman is the most frustrating creature in all of Valora. “Where is she now?”

  “Ah, ah. I don’t give information for free.”

  I know what she’s going to ask for before she says it. “Fine. Take my hair.”

  A gleeful giggle bubbles up from Astrid as she claps her hands. The metallic click of her shears follows, and she steps toward me. “Just six inches. This time, anyway. Maybe next time I’ll get more.”

  I don’t care how much she cuts off, as long as she tells me where I can find Quinn. If she’s out in the Shadowlands by herself, she could be dead already. Time isn’t on my side.

  “Lovely,” Astrid coos, picking up a lock of my hair. “Just lovely.”

  “Don’t worry about how it looks,” I bark. “Just chop it and tell me.”

  “Fine, fine.” She gathers my hair i
n her grip and cuts the bunch, then sits in her chair again. “Oh, this will be beautiful. I’ll weave your hair with hers. Isn’t that nice?”

  “I don’t give a fuck,” I grit out. “Where. Is. Quinn?”

  “Somewhere near, somewhere far, where she wished upon a star,” she sings. Rocking, rocking, rocking in her damn chair, like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

  She’s toying with me. I never should’ve left Quinn in here alone. My knuckles crack as my hands form into tight fists.

  “Damon. I’m going to kill your witch.”

  Quinn

  “LET GO,” I say. Well, I try to say it, but my words get smothered under beefy fingers. It doesn’t stop me from begging for my life, though. “Please, don’t hurt me. Kai? Torius? Please. Please!”

  It could be either of them. Struggling is pointless. Whoever has me is strong.

  Kirian was right. His men were plotting against him. They must’ve followed us instead of going to the citadel.

  I could bite him, but that would require getting a taste of his disgusting skin. I want to gag just thinking about it.

  Self-defense isn’t something I’ve ever been good at. When it comes to fight or flight, I’m one hundred percent the latter. Although, now I’m wishing I’d paid more attention in P.E. when we studied self-defense one semester my sophomore year.

  I recall something about kicking an attacker in the shin and decide it’s better than doing nothing.

  Blindly flailing, I bring my leg back. The heel of my tennis shoe connects with something, and the person’s leg buckles. When their hand slips away from my face, I suck in a breath.

  I’m about to start screaming when suddenly, they release me completely. Disoriented, I sway on my feet.

  I did it. I got away.

  Before I can get too excited about my victory, strong hands push me from behind.

  I’m falling.

  Expecting to hit rock-hard ground, I instinctively close my eyes and bring my arms up to shield my face.

  “Unnfff.” I land on a soft bed of weeds, and then there’s a light so bright it temporarily blinds me.

  Also, it’s hot. Suffocating heat gets pulled into my lungs as I gasp for air.

  Blinking, I look around through squinted eyelids.

  “What the fuck?” I whisper.

  I’m back in my field. In my world.

  Digging my fingers into the dirt, I push myself up and look around.

  I’m alone. The late afternoon sun is still high in the sky, just like it was when Kirian dragged me through the portal.

  Disbelief pummels me as I turn in a circle. This can’t be. I’m not supposed to be here.

  How did I get here?

  Suddenly drenched in sweat, I strip off my extra layers. When I get down to the loose white cotton shirt, I unbutton the top so the breeze can get to my neck and chest, but I decide to leave it on. All I have under this is my bra. Not like it matters. No one would see me out here anyway.

  But the shirt smells like Kirian, and it’s comforting.

  Kirian.

  Shit.

  He’s still in Valora. Every minute that goes by here is hours there. He must be going crazy not knowing where I am. That is, if he’s okay.

  Oh, please, please let him be okay.

  I couldn’t bear it if something happened to him. If I never saw him again. If he died never knowing I’m the one. Tears well up and spill over my cheeks as I fall to my knees.

  I refuse to think that way. I have to be positive.

  He’s fine.

  Forming the sweater, jacket, and fur coat into a pile, I make a comfortable place to sit. I’ll wait here. He’ll come for me. He always does.

  But the seconds keep slipping away. I try to do the math, converting Earth time to Valora time, but it just makes my head hurt.

  Picking at some grass, I cry as the sun sinks lower in the sky.

  Mosquitos bite and cicadas sing. The breeze does nothing to cool me off in the August heat. Fluffy white clouds float by in the too-blue sky. I miss the stars.

  An hour passes.

  Then two.

  Months. It’s been months there now.

  Wiping at my damp cheeks, I swipe over the freckles I’ve hated for so long.

  I don’t hate them anymore. They’re still unattractive, but they’re what connects me to Kirian. They’re proof that I’m his.

  The faint tinkling of my mom’s bell signals dinnertime. She stopped doing that a year ago, but in this world, it’s still the day before I’m supposed to leave for college. To celebrate, my mom’s making my favorite meal. My parents want to give me a special send-off, and I’m going to have to act like everything’s fine. Like I didn’t just experience the most wonderful and most frightening six days of my life.

  Blinking, I try to compose myself.

  I don’t even know what I’m going to tell them about college. Obviously, I’m not going anymore. I have every intention of going back to Valora with Kirian.

  Standing, I decide to leave my extra clothes here. If—no, when Kirian comes back, he’ll find them and know I was here. They’ll be my breadcrumbs.

  Glancing back at the empty field, I hesitate, willing my fae king to appear. But he doesn’t.

  I know how this goes—Kirian gets one portal a year. That’s it, and that’s all. Knowing he has to wait so long to see me makes me physically ache for him.

  Jogging away from our usual meeting spot, I tell myself he found a way out of the Shadowlands. He’s probably back in Delaveria scaring the crap out of people with his grumpiness.

  And he’ll come for me tomorrow when he can.

  I take a detour on the way to my house. The treehouse sits about fifteen feet up in an old oak. Splinters stick out of the weathered rungs of the wooden ladder, but I know where to put my hands to avoid them.

  When I make it up to the trap door, I pop my head through the hole in the floor. Since the shutters are closed, it’s dim, but sunlight beams through the cracks between the wood slats. A little light is a thousand times better than zero after being in the Shadowlands. I suppress a shiver when I think about the endless darkness.

  I zero in on what I’m looking for. I keep a change of clothes in here for when I get wet while fishing.

  And right now, I’m practically dripping with sweat.

  Plus, showing up at my house wearing a Night Realm getup would definitely raise questions. With the high-waisted pants and puffy white shirt, I kind of look like I just stepped off a pirate ship from the 1800s.

  Pulling out the drawer of a small dresser, I find some jean shorts and a ratty purple T-shirt I got from a fundraiser at my high school.

  After I’m changed, I lay the damp clothes on top of a toy chest full of blankets. It hurts to see a corner of the blue flannel comforter sticking out. Kirian and I used it in the cold months. Although he didn’t need it, sometimes he’d lend his body heat, huddling under there with me while I read him my latest find at the library.

  A few stacks of our favorite books sit on a small bookshelf, along with some candles and a bucket of interesting rocks we found in the creek. My fishing pole is propped up in the corner.

  Every square inch of this place is saturated with memories of Kirian.

  Gah, I’m going to start crying again.

  Sighing out a shuddering breath, I climb down and make the trek back to my house.

  As I approach the yellow farmhouse, a wave of nostalgia hits me. I thought I wouldn’t see this place again for a while. And when my mom waves at me from the porch, I realize how much I missed her.

  She’s wearing her usual sunflower apron over a T-shirt and jeans, and her gray hair is pulled back into a ponytail with a scrunchie.

  My walk turns into a run, and my shoes pound up the wooden steps before I throw my arms around her.

  “Oh.” She laughs, taken aback. “What’s this for?”

  “I just need a hug.” My voice waivers.

  Rubbing my back, she chuckles.
“Getting a little homesick already?”

  “Something like that.”

  I don’t let go for at least thirty seconds. One thing I’ve always loved about my mom is how soft she is. I guess you could say she’s on the plump side, but it just makes her extra good at cuddles.

  When I finally pull back, her eyes go to my hair and she touches the ends. “You got a haircut.”

  Oh, yeah. Forgot about that.

  “Uh huh,” I say, not offering any information about where I got it done.

  “It looks nice,” Dad chimes in from inside the screen door. “A new style for our college girl.”

  “The spaghetti and meatballs are ready.” Mom unties her apron. “You hungry?”

  “Starving.” I don’t know what was in that ginger tea, but it made my appetite come back with a vengeance.

  Kicking off my shoes, I stroll past the living room on the right. The dark blue couch is the same shade as the night realm flag, and it hurts my heart a little to look at it.

  Going to the farmhouse-style sink in the kitchen, I wash the dirt from under my fingernails as I gaze out the window. I search the woods for a hint of movement, a flash of clothing or skin.

  But it’s just tall trees, green leaves, and birds.

  After drying my hands, I take a left into the dining room, and the smell of dinner makes my mouth water. The plates are already on the table, complete with a bottle of root beer at each place setting.

  I smile when I remember the first time I made Kirian try the carbonated beverage. He’d sneezed, then hiccupped for fifteen minutes. Didn’t stop him from drinking more, though.

  I sprinkle parmesan cheese on my pasta before digging in.

  After I’ve had a few bites, Mom speaks up, “So, you’ve got some packing to do tonight. You’ve procrastinated long enough.”

  “About that.” I set my fork down. “I’ve been doing some thinking. I know this is last minute, but I’ve had a change of heart about school. I’d like to take some time off. I’d learn more by traveling and working.”

  It’s easy to sound convincing because it’s the truth. These past several days in Valora were more educational than all my years of being buried in textbooks.