Escape From The Green

by Gadziala, Jessica

  "She returned my brother's egg to my parents a couple summers ago. Ten maybe?" he said, scrunching his face up a bit. "They were grateful enough not to limit their thanks. So anytime she needed to disappear for a bit to let some storm she created blow over, or when the winters proved too long and she was close to starving, she stopped in, rested, refueled. Can't tell you how many times I saw her show up so bloody or so skinny she was minutes from death. That woman has been through hell. Not that she would tell you what kind, mind you, but some scars speak for themselves. Like yours," he added, nodding toward my back.

  "Can't even trust Light fae sometimes," I hedged.

  To that, Sal snorted.

  "Especially the ones who play both sides against the middle, hm?" he asked as something cracked above us, making both of us stiffen, heads jerking up. But there was no damsel in distress to save. Just a woman who had learned a long time ago to catch herself, save herself, soften her own landing. She huffed out her breath as she hauled herself up from where she'd caught a branch on her way down, resettling on a limb before disappearing again.

  "She ever gonna come down?"

  "When food comes out, I'd bet," he said, shrugging. "She's skinny again. Her pride won't let her say it, but she's hungry. She won't miss a meal. Judging by your bag, you got a stash. I got one too. She will come down to eat."

  I mulled on that for a moment, the idea of the hard-as-stone woman above us hanging around simply because her belly was empty and her pride was too fragile to admit that aloud, that she wasn't always able to feed herself, that the long winters months could take their toll.

  "So is it a girl?" Sal asked as our paced slowed, all of us seeming to sense it was time to hunker down.

  "Is what a girl?"

  "What would make someone like you - someone better never to bring attention to himself - take on the Dark Court, unsettle the balance between it and the Light. It's got to be a girl, right?"

  Figuring he would see the truth for himself within another day or so, I shrugged. "Yeah, it's a girl."

  "That all you're gonna give me? Come on, Smoke isn't exactly a great conversationalist. Someone has got to pick up the slack."

  "She freed me," I admitted. "Don't even know how long I was chained up, but it was long enough that I forgot my way around The Green. And she saved me. Freed me from it. I owe her the same."

  "What does the Dark Court want with her? She special?" he asked, clearly meaning skill-wise.

  "From what I can tell, she doesn't have any known skills. At least none that have presented themselves yet."

  "Yet? If she's got your eyes like that, she's got to be old enough."

  "Her parents sent her to the human realm to age her up. It might have screwed with her internal timing. They may still be dormant."

  "Possibly," he agreed, nodding. "So if it isn't some skill the King can drain to try to inject into himself, what would he want with her."

  "I don't know what the deal was, but I know the Dark Prince was getting her."

  "As in as a whore?" he asked, eyes going small.

  It wasn't exactly a secret that the Dark Court was full of sex slaves, the most beautiful of all kinds snatched, imprisoned, made to suck and fuck their lives away for the enjoyment of men - and women - who would get off on their pain.

  "If I'm not mistaken... as a wife."

  "Really?" he asked, turning fully to face me. "Who was she the child of?"

  "Winters," I supplied, figuring there was no way to keep it secret for long.

  "They're Light."

  "Only in theory."

  "I'm sure she knocks your socks off and everything, but what would the Unseelie King want with some offspring of a Light family? Even if they are rich."

  "Opal Winters has a way of making things work out in her favor."

  "Maybe she promised that new Light Princess," Sal suggested, tone indifferent as he rubbed his palms together, smoke filtering up between before he spread them flat, fire dancing up from his skin.

  Salamander fae were fire fae.

  Much like me and my kind.

  We controlled it.

  We brought it forth.

  We could warm ourselves with it in the cold months.

  Or use it to burn down your village.

  I could only control it in Draca form.

  Sal, apparently, was not so restricted.

  But even as my eyes stayed transfixed on the flames as Sal pressed his hands to some downed branches, letting them crackle and spark to life, all my mind could focus on was that possibility.

  Was that Opal's grand plan?

  Did she intend to use Amy's arranged - and wholly unwanted - marriage to draw Jasper out of asylum?

  If Jasper was planning on breaking into the Dark Court to save his little sister, there wasn't a doubt in my mind that his woman - the Princess with burning hands - would follow.

  Was that what Cass - the Unseelie King - would get out of the arrangement that seemed better for the Winters than he and his son?

  Was he planning to get his daughter back?

  Trap her in the dungeons like he had done to her as a baby? Try to convert her, sway her allegiances, get control of her to use her admittedly strong - and likely growing - skills to create an unstoppable kingdom, to overthrow the allegiance between the Courts?

  What then?

  Chaos as there had been before?

  Light fae slain for simply existing? Chased down like humans chased down prey animals? A sport made of their fear? A spectacle made of their death? A waste of flesh laid out on the forest floor? Heads stuck up on walls?

  It had been a long time since those days, but my great grandfather told me stories about how all the fae heads were banned from being displayed like prizes, that they were ordered to be pulled down and buried.

  It wasn't just innocent fae the treaty protected either.

  If it fell, the humans would be open game again.

  Fae could move out from the veil, could steal, rape, pillage once again. Could - as the legends went - enslave them, force them to bring food and wares in exchange for their lives, making fae lazy, bellies fat with power.

  The whole world could turn chaotic.

  The humans would realize the tales from their bedtime stories were not mere myth, that fae were not little fairies flitting around on filmy wings sprinkling dust, doing no harm. No. They would see that their bedtime stories should have been horror tales told in hushed tones to try to out-scare one another. That fae were bloodthirsty, wicked, intent on playing puppet master to those deemed beneath them. Drinking up all their sexual desires to satiate their hunger, singing songs to them to enslave them as sexual toys for the rest of their lives. Men and women alike, along with those just teetering on the precipice, that plump ripeness of almost-adulthood. Those would be the most prized of all.

  It would be chaos.

  But, I imagined, Cass was just the kind of fae to crave that, to want to give that to his loyal disciples.

  "I'm surprised Jet would go along with it, though," Sal continued as he stoked the fire enough to take the chill out of the air around us.

  "Why's that?"

  "Because turning his half-sister would give her rights to the throne. Both in birth order and sheer power. Jet has his own skills, I'm sure, but the tales of the Daughter of Both Courts make it sound like she is something the likes of which we haven't seen in generations. But Jet is hungry. To rule. To take over. I don't see why he would go along with this plan."

  "Maybe he doesn't know about it," I suggested, but I heard the uncertainty in my own tone.

  "Eh, I doubt that," he said, reaching into his satchel to produce a small pile of dried root vegetables and some nuts, putting a pile down on a swatch of fabric like a placemat, pushing it off to his side, silently inviting Smoky down from her tree.

  Just seconds later, she dropped down into a squat, hand braced on the forest floor, before she dropped down on her butt, legs crossed, eating the food steadily.


  He'd been right.

  About her hunger.

  About her pride.

  About her thinness.

  I had thought little of it when I first saw her, the angle making it hard to make out certain things. Like how the notches of her spine could be counted through her shirt, how her cheekbones hollowed out like that of a skeleton, like how her entire thigh could be spanned by one of my hands.

  Thin.

  She was painfully thin.

  Breakably thin.

  How her muscles managed to hold her while she swung between tree branches was beyond me.

  Each time her attention was pulled to the darkened forest, Sal's hand slipped over, dropping more walnuts down beside her dwindling pile.

  I lowered myself down as well, reaching into my bag to produce the giant supply of almonds, seeing Smoky's eyes go hungry even as she pushed more food into her mouth.

  "Human realm," I supplied. "There is a store with lights that make your eyes ache that has rows and rows of nuts you can purchase in bags as heavy as a babe," I explained, grabbing a handful for each of them, knowing full-well that half of Sal's pile would be handed off to Smoky, but knowing it was the only way she wouldn't balk at getting more of a cut of the food.

  For me, my stomach twisted and groaned, used to eating more to sustain my muscle mass, but having found myself too consumed by my homecoming, then racked with guilt to eat.

  I forced myself to eat my share, refusing any of Sal's supplies.

  "Why did she leave?" Smoky asked, breaking a long silence where we all sat chewing, watching the dancing flames of the fire. "Your girl," she clarified.

  "She's not mine," I was quick to correct. Even as my gut squeezed with the idea that anyone could possibly think she could be - a not altogether unpleasant sensation. "She didn't want to marry Jet."

  "But why?" Sal pressed. "She'd be drenched in riches. Would never know hunger, never experience powerlessness."

  "Except she would be powerless to control her own life," Smoky piped in. "She would be slave to her throne, slave to her people, slave to her husband. She'd be expected - forced if she was unwilling - to bed him, bear him heirs. She would be forced to lose her sense of right and wrong, would bear witness to so much ugliness, so much cruelty, that she will become numb to it all, will become cruel herself. She will be nothing but an empty - but fruit-bearing - vessel brought to heel by a man she did not love. I can't think of a better reason to run. Even if she would have to struggle, get to know the sensation of an empty stomach. A life on her own terms would be worth all the trials she would have to endure."

  "She's soft," I added as Smoky's words sank in. "Sweet. Good. She tried to save me many times before she finally freed me. She wasn't meant for the Dark Court. She wouldn't have been able to see so much pain around her. And, well, she likes humans," I added, shaking my head. I couldn't claim to have spent a lot of time with them, and while all the ones I had crossed paths with seemed friendly enough, there was nothing exceptional about them, nothing about them that made me want to spend more time in their presence.

  "I've watched them," Smoky declared, making Sal's attention move to her profile while she spoke, one brow quirked up. "Through the veil," she explained. "In the Autumn, they gather up all the fallen leaves, create a pile, and then they... they jump in them," she finished, face scrunched up in an amused confusion. "They squeal and laugh, then gather them up to do it over and over again."

  "I think it's charming," Sal chimed in, shrugging when Smoky's gaze went to him. "Their innocence. Frivolity. It's endearing. They pick flowers to pluck off the petals, looking for answers in them."

  "In flowers?" Smoky asked, disbelieving. "Without a witch, mage, or seer?"

  "They don't - almost as a rule - believe in witches, mages, or seers."

  "But they believe in the wisdom of basic flowers? They do realize they are nothing but a seed brought forth through dirt, right?"

  "See, Draca?" Sal asked, shooting me that laid-back grin once again. "It isn't simply my charm she is immune to; it is all charm."

  "What good is charm?" Smoky grumbled. "It doesn't fill the belly or build shelters or fight off foes."

  "Maybe not, but perhaps the purpose of it is to make life worth living, Smoke," Sal suggested, to which Smoky didn't have a comeback, just sat there finishing off the last of her food.

  "You take the first shift," she suggested. No, demanded. Of who, I wasn't sure. "Wake me in a few hours. I will watch so you can rest."

  With that, she turned her back to the fire, curled up protectively, and slipped off to sleep, belly likely full for the first time in months.

  Sal and I sat in silence, his gaze mostly focused down on Smoky's sleeping form.

  "She doesn't have to live like this," he murmured, half to himself. "My family have offered her a home, a bed, a full belly, guaranteed warmth and protection. There is even want in her eyes when it is offered freely, without any strings attached. But she won't do it. She won't give this up. I guess when you are raised by the woods, you become a wild thing, something that bites and scratches on instinct even to hands meaning only to feed it, love it."

  "If you feed something wild for long enough, it starts to come back to you."

  To that, he snorted. "She thinks I stalk her, and you think I can be more present in her life?"

  "Just saying... it's a long winter. Your stores are fully stocked. Make her a deal. She likes those."

  "Yeah," he agreed, shaking his head. "She does, that. Any idea what she wants from you in exchange for getting you to the veil?"

  "No," I admitted.

  "Oh," Sal snorted. "You poor fuck."

  --

  "I've got the shortest legs here, yet I am always yards ahead of you two," Smoky yelled back at us, arms spread wide.

  "Give her a few solid meals, and she is like the Head of the Dark Guard," Sal chuckled, shaking his head at her.

  "How far are we?" I asked, restlessness a crawling discomfort across my skin, bugs bent on driving me crazy.

  Two weeks and three days.

  Green time.

  As for human time, I wasn't sure. A few months, probably.

  She had likely just gotten her life going, just found a reason to smile, the occasion to breathe freely.

  And here we were coming to tell her she wasn't safe. That her desire to see her brother was what would do her in.

  I hated to do that to her, to rip her hopes and dreams away from her.

  But, I figured, it was better it be me than Cass and his evil army, better it be us than them, taking her to the Dark Court only to bait her brother and his woman out of seclusion.

  Jasper was useless to Cass.

  He had some skills, but nothing strong enough even to drain him for.

  Expendable.

  That was what he would be.

  A pawn to use to get his daughter to obey, to spare her love beatings and torture.

  And once she was brainwashed enough, he could slit his throat and be done with him.

  And Amethyst?

  She would be crushed.

  She would be weighted down with guilt for the rest of her life.

  For being a pawn in a game she had no skills at.

  For being young and beautiful enough to be used to make gains.

  For being born at all.

  "Before the sun even gets full in the sky," he promised, waving up above us, making me aware of the melting again, something that had completely escaped me even though, ahead of us, Smoky had rolled up her shirtsleeves, had tied up her hair.

  "Judging by this," he said, waving a hand at the rapidly melting snow around us, "summer should be in full swing in the human realm. You're the only one of us who won't stick out," he added, jerking his chin to the shirt Amy had bought me.

  "I am hoping we won't have to be there long," I said, reaching for the note in my pocket. "But the only day when I know where she will be is on..." I scanned the note. "Every Sunday."

  If she would
even be there.

  If she didn't get bored of being there every weekend, wasting her freedom

  If she didn't get a job, friends, a boyfriend who that would distract her from her promise.

  That last one, yeah, it sent a swirling pit of jealousy through my system. I had no right, of course, to feel that way. I had no claim to her. She had no loyalty to me. She was free to meet men, spend time with them, kiss them, fall for them.

  And I had no right to be put off by that.

  Just because I thought highly of her, because I owed her my freedom, because we'd shared a kiss. A single kiss. I had shared more than that with women whose names I no longer remembered.

  I should have been happy for her, happy that she had a chance to build something for herself, that she got to choose who put their hands on her.

  My eyes moved down the note, finding myself almost smiling at the dainty, perfect script.

  And I found a small passage that was not about my instructions to find her if I should need to.

  Maybe this is silly. Sillier still to tell you. But when I was younger, I used to dream that your people would find you, come for you, break you out of your chains. And that you would finally be allowed to Change, fly again, stopping by my window, letting me climb up onto your back, and taking me away. Away from it all. Silly, girlish musings. And as much as those dreams made my life more tolerable, I am glad I got to save myself. I'm glad I got to save you too. And by the time you read this, I hope you are back with your kind. I hope you have felt the relief of the Change after so long, got to feel the wind cascading over your body while you fly with your loved ones. I hope you're happy. And maybe a selfish little part of me hopes you think of me every couple decades or so. I know I'll be thinking of you. - xo Amy.

  "He looks sick," Smoky's voice reached to me as I stopped reading.

  "He looks smitten," Sal corrected, making my head snap up, feeling oddly caught even though I hadn't done anything wrong.

  "She just saved me," I insisted, trying to shrug it off.

  "There's more to the story," Sal insisted. "But we are about to go through. So maybe talk about fae and dragons should be avoided. You can tell us some other time."