But I don’t.
I’m handling this ordeal well, and I don’t understand how.
Maybe it has something to do with not remembering the finer details of my life. I don’t remember any loved ones. Heck, I don’t even remember acquaintances. I try to focus and picture any familiar face, but I draw a blank. I know who I am. I know I’m studying to be a nurse. Everything else? Absolutely nothing.
Resigned to wait, I finally heed the prince’s request and relax against the couch. I can worry about the repercussions of his interference later. This couch is much more comfortable than the bed I slept on last night.
“How are you feeling?” the prince asks.
“Fine,” and I can’t resist adding in a haughty tone, “Your Highness.”
He sighs. “You are angry with me.”
I purse my lips.
Am I angry with him?
Not really.
Do I wish he’d helped me escape?
Of course.
But he’s the prince. The queen outranks him. If she commanded my abduction, he can’t go against her. At least, that’s how I think the whole royalty thing goes. Queen trumps prince.
I’m not happy about my predicament or the conditions which brought me here, but I know blaming Prince Camden would just be a waste of energy.
“What are you thinking?” His voice sounds closer. I turn my head and slowly open my eyes, grateful my head is no longer throbbing.
The prince kneels on the rug next to me. Unfathomable green eyes flicker between mine as he tries to decipher what is going on in my mind. It takes me a moment to find my voice.
“I’m wondering why you are going out of your way to help me?”
His expression is guarded. “I’d hardly call this going out of my way.”
Maybe I’m stupidly brave, or maybe I have a concussion. Either way, I shock myself when I tell the prince, “I don’t believe you.”
I immediately suck in a breath, worried I’ve just offended him.
Rather than anger, his lips tilt up in the smallest hint of a smile. “You’re honest. I like that.”
A memory tickles the back of my mind. I feel like someone has said that to me before.
I’m prevented from dwelling on the subject. The door opens and I see an armored sentry enter the room. This must be Frederick. A hunched female comes in behind him, and I deduce she is the healer.
When I look back at the prince, he is on his feet, halfway across the room. He doesn’t spare me a departing glance as he slips behind a heavy, dark wood door, disappearing from sight.
8
“Withdraw. Good. Now, lunge.” I follow Morty’s instruction, throwing my sword arm forward. I stab the hay-filled dummy in the abdomen, hitting my target for the tenth time in a row.
“Again.”
Ignoring my sore bicep, I yank the blunted weapon out and perform the motion again.
It’s day five in the Fae Realm, and I’ve done nothing but eat, sleep, and train. I haven’t seen the prince since the healer cleared me to return to the barracks, but I suspect he is responsible for the sentry’s sudden desire to help me catch up on weapon and fighting skills. I’d learned the other girls had all been in the Fae Realm for at least six months. I am, by far, the least prepared of the group, and with the contest being less than two weeks away, I’m in no condition to refuse the extra help.
“Excellent form. We’ll make a swordswoman out of you, yet!” Morty’s palm claps against my back. I straighten and roll out my shoulder.
“Thanks.” I mean it. Without Morty, I wouldn’t stand a chance against the upcoming contest. I still haven’t learned what we are supposed to be competing for. Jordan’s told me everything she knows, which isn’t much. We were all taken from our homes solely to participate in this contest. No one asks us to help prepare meals in the castle’s kitchens. We don’t even have to do our own laundry or make our beds. I see other humans perform various tasks assigned to them by Fae.
Three young men work as stable hands in the royal stable. Most of the older women I see serve the Fae as maids, but only a few young women do. I’m not sure what the other girls around my age do, but they roam around the castle in expensive gowns and fine jewelry. Some look content, while others wear emotionless masks.
But we contestants? All we are expected to do is train. Every morning, we train. Everything afternoon, we train. That’s all we’re doing, and none of us is sure why.
Yes, we are competing in a contest. But what for? And what kind of contest is it?
Fighting each other? Or, god forbid, fighting Fae?
I’d asked Jordan what she believes motivated the original abducted women to train in the first place. I came in late, so falling in line was pretty much the only option I had. I was a good little soldier, but what if I had been one of the first ones? I don’t think I would willingly suffer through these grueling days without an explanation.
With an expression carefully void of any emotion, Jordan had told me about two girls who’d refused to train. It’d been about five months ago. Jordan doesn’t know what happened to spur their defiance. One morning, the pair woke up and decided they were done. They didn’t want to spend their days sweating under the Seelie sun. They were tired of the endless training, with no known objective.
I’d learned that Zander had been quick to end the young women’s defiance. With two swift and final swipes of his sword, he’d beheaded the two women.
No one has refused to comply with the Fae’s demands ever since.
“My turn.” Jordan hops down from the wood railing bordering the training yard and grabs a sword. Morty nods and picks up his own weapon. While I only recently advanced to target practice, Jordan’s training involves combat practice. She and Morty circle each other, weighing each other’s strengths and weaknesses.
The three of us aren’t alone in the training yard, but the other girls give us a wide berth. I think they’re wary of a sentry being in our midst. According to Jordan, no sentry has ever bothered to assist any of the contestants before. They simply observe from outside the arena, commanding us to switch training activities and barking orders to anyone who isn’t working hard enough.
But as my only friend here, Jordan is determined to stick by my side, even if there is a Fae sentry involved. She, actually, reaps the benefit of Morty’s extra attention. Sparring with me is not nearly enough of a challenge for her.
Luckily, Morty is good-natured about splitting his time between us. I hate to say it, but Morty isn’t really all that bad. I remember his calm demeanor during my abduction. He showed no interest in harming anyone, but he’d been determined to follow his orders. If push had come to shove, I know he would’ve done whatever it took to fulfill his duty.
I want nothing more than to hate him for it, but after the second day practicing with him and hearing him joke like an ordinary guy, it was hard not to find him less abhorrent than other Fae. I’m still pissed he helped kidnap me but being angry won’t help me now. Besides, his help has elevated me from helpless to semi-competent when it comes to defending myself against oncoming attacks. Also, Morty seems particularly eager to help Jordan. I’ve caught him staring at her on more than one occasion when he thinks no one is looking. I’ve wondered if he has a crush on my friend, but it seems unlikely. I’d hardly call combat training a precursor for love.
I watch the pair dance around one another, alternating who lunges and retreats in a regular, unplanned pattern. I’m still stunned with how skilled Jordan is. No matter the weapon put in her hands, she wields it with undeniable confidence and efficiency. Her life on Earth prepared her for this ordeal. She’s a second degree blackbelt. I have no idea what that honor entails, but I know it’s a high level of martial arts, and I knows its impressive. I’m fortunate Jordan decided to take pity on me my first day in Seelie. Between her and Morty, I might actually stand a chance in this contest. Not to win, but at least to not come in last place.
I grab my waterskin from the gr
ound and take a healthy swig, leaning against the post and watch as Jordan spins around Morty, swinging her sword and dodging his parry. Her moves look effortless, and she manages to get Morty on the defensive more than once. Not for the first time, I hope the contest doesn’t pit us girls against one another. I won’t stand a chance against Jordan, or many of the other girls for that matter.
“Your friend is talented.”
I turn and see Frederick standing five feet outside the training yard. With crossed arms, his eyes watch Jordan and Morty spar. The prince may have kept his distance after assisting me on my first day, but the same can’t be said for his personal guard.
Frederick is tall, brawny, and blond, the typical physique of Seelie sentries. But unlike the others, there is an air of authority which follows him around. Wherever he goes, Fae are swift to get out of his way. I don’t know if it’s because of his serious demeanor, or if he has some clout being the head of the prince’s personal guard. Either way, his daily check ins draw even more attention to me.
I’ve heard the other girls whispering in the barracks, wondering what is so special about me to warrant not one, but two, Fae’s attention. I fear it’s only a matter of time before one of the girls decides to confront me on the matter. If the interaction turns violent, I doubt I’ll have a chance at coming out the victor.
I lower the waterskin from my lips, wiping excess moisture from my chin. “Frederick.”
“Sera,” he returns my greeting, but doesn’t take his eyes off the fight in front of him.
I turn around and see Jordan lose her balance, falling on her butt. In the blink of an eye, she rolls backward and hops onto the balls of her feet, narrowly avoiding the blunt end of Morty’s sword. Jordan had, also, been a cheerleader. It isn’t hard for me to imagine her in the short, pleated skirt and tight, formfitting top, smiling wide and cheering on her high school’s sports teams. Jordan is gorgeous. All of the contestants are attractive and athletic. It makes me feel like an outsider. But what’s else is new?
I’m not saying I’m unattractive. I know there are people who would kill for my green eyes and defined, yet not overwhelming, facial structure. But I don’t hold a candle to Jordan’s sultry beauty, highlighted by deep brown eyes, framed by dark lashes.
Morty doesn’t give Jordan a second to gather herself before he’s already back on the offensive. Jordan holds her own, deflecting every oncoming blow, using her agility to slide each of his powerful strikes off her blade, saving her from absorbing the full brunt of his strength. I doubt she’d be able to handle too many attacks without the successful strategy.
“You’ve improved,” Frederick says after a good three minutes of silence, revealing he’d been watching longer than I’d thought.
“Thanks.” I take another sip of water.
“You still need to work on your endurance.”
Here we go.
I huff and shake my head. Frederick always comes with some blunt observation about my failings. I should’ve seen this one coming.
“I’m working on it.”
“Do you run?”
“We run before lunch every day.” I’m proud of myself for not saying “duh” at the end. He should know our training regimen.
“You aren’t pushing yourself hard enough.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know.”
In other words, because he’s basically stalking me. Either that, or Frederick has a spy doing the dirty work for him. Shouldn’t the prince’s guard have something better to do than worry about an abducted human? Like, I don’t know, guarding the prince?
I turn around and give him my best no-nonsense look. “Care to tell me why you are so concerned with my training, Rick?” I adopted the nickname two days ago, hoping to annoy the Fae enough for him to leave me alone. I really don’t want to make the other girls dislike me anymore than they already do.
Frederick doesn’t so much as blink. The guy is a statue. “The contest won’t be easy. Every contestant should take advantage of all their time to prepare for what’s to come.”
Well, that sounds ominous.
“I don’t suppose you are willing to tell me what, exactly, this contest is for?”
I’d woken up in the Fae Realm and believed my fate entailed serving the powerful creatures against my will for the rest of my life. Instead, I haven’t been asked to do anything but work out at all hours of the day in order to get ready for an event none of us volunteered for. I’m not sure which fate is worse. I need details about this god-forsaken contest before I can make that call.
“The queen is holding a banquet in five nights,” Frederick says, finally throwing me a bone. “All contestants will be invited. That is when you will learn the purpose of the contest.”
Five nights and I’ll know why I run myself ragged every day. I can handle waiting for five more days.
It’s not like I really have a choice anyway.
“Who will be at this banquet?” I ask, determined to extract as much information from the stoic guard.
“Many Fae.” Frederick’s done sharing, but that doesn’t stop me from asking more questions.
“Is there a dress code, or will we all be wearing this?” I gesture to my dirty workout attire. It hardly seems fitting for a formal event, but then again, the queen might want us to look the part of training contestants. I don’t know. I’m totally guessing.
“Each contestant will be given an outfit appropriate for an audience with a king.”
“Don’t you mean queen?”
“No.”
If crickets existed in the Fae Realm, this is when I’d be able to hear them.
“When will the other girls learn about this banquet?”
“This evening, I believe.”
I nod. “Well, alrighty then. Thanks for the info, Rick.”
Again, he doesn’t so much as smile. “You will meet me after the sun goes down.”
“What?” I stiffen. “Why?”
“We need to work on your endurance.”
“I’ve already told you, I run every day.” There is no way I want to subject myself to extra running. Absolutely not.
“It’s not a request. You will meet me at sundown outside your barracks.” With that, Frederick turns on his heel and strides away from the training yard, leaving me staring after him with my jaw on the ground.
9
The sun begins its decent across the Seelie sky around seven. Jordan and I walk towards the cafeteria, our feet dragging behind us in the dirt. Morty always puts me through the ringer, but Jordan is usually resistant to his intense regimen of exercises. Not today. For once, she’s just as exhausted as I am. The pair hadn’t held back while they sparred.
We grab empty plates from the clean bucket at the entrance and slowly make our way down the line of food, scooping every dish onto our respective plates. I don’t remember every detail about my previous life, but I recall hating whenever different types of food would touch on my plate. Hunger and fatigue have cured me of that pickiness. I’ll take all the calories I can get, and that means stacking vegetables on top of the buttery mashed potatoes to make room for the saucy meat I see farther down the line.
With my plate piled high, I follow Jordan to our normal table. There are six wooden tables spaced throughout the cafeteria. Four to six girls can fit at each round surface, but we walk to the back corner of the room, content to sit alone. I don’t know if Jordan has always been an outsider, or if her alliance with me has put her on the outs with the others. Whatever the reason, I’m glad to have at least one friend as I navigate this crazy mess.
Neither of us bother with small talk. We shovel food into our mouths like it might be our last meal.
I know the legends, eating or drinking in the Fae Realm traps humans in the mystical world, unable to return to home. I’d panicked on my second morning, realizing I’d eaten two meals in the realm, terrified I’d accidently condemned myself to a life in the Fae Realm. Fae are notoriously t
ricky with their words and deals. The contest could’ve been a ruse to lure all of us into a false sense of safety, letting us believe we might actually be able to return home one day, only to have us trap ourselves when we succumbed to our human need to eat.
Jordan, my sole source of information, had been quick to assure me I was fine. A human maid told her the legend was nothing more than a myth. There’s no truth to it.
And the maid would know. She was born in Seelie, and she’s been working within the castle walls since she turned fifteen. Jordan says the maid hears a lot, wandering in the background while important Fae visit and significant meetings take place in the castle. I want to meet the maid at some point. I bet she knows things which can benefit us in this competition.
I’m so focused on cutting the sauce-covered meat, I don’t hear three girls approach our table. Not until a hard hand slams onto the wood do I look away from my mound of food.
“What’s your deal, new girl?” The one in the center, Trish, sneers down at me.
I sigh. I knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time. Still, I feign ignorance.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her cronies cross their arms and shoot daggers at me with their cold eyes. I don’t know their names. Only a few of my fellow contestants have stood out these last few days. Trish is one of them. She’s lethal with a wood staff. She’s knocked out three of her sparring partners with the blunt weapon despite the fact the drills had been to practice defensive maneuvers. None of our Fae overseers had condemned her violence. In fact, they’d seemed to like it. Zander, especially. His gleeful smile had given him away. That one definitely has a screw loose. I’m glad Morty is the one assigned as my trainer.
Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 141
