Leave it to Fate

by Keri Armstrong

  His smile was way too smug for my liking, so I settled my gaze on the bustling market across from the park. We were somewhat hidden from view by rose bushes and other hedges, but I could still make out many figures going about their business.

  “What things do they sell there?” I pulled the coins from my pockets and spread them neatly on the makeshift cloak beneath us. “Do we have enough for new clothes?”

  He laughed. “You don’t like what we’re wearing?”

  “If you were hoping to blend in here, it was an epic fail.”

  He snatched the coins and stood, pocketing the gold, and brushed his hands over his dark jeans. “I do need to see about arranging us transportation and other clothing. In the meantime ….”

  He helped me to my feet and retrieved the cloak, shaking it in front of him. Whispering words I didn’t understand, he swished the fabric about us, draping it first over himself then over me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer but the material began to divide in two, duplicating itself into a cloak for him and a smaller one for me.

  “You can do that?” I gasped.

  “I just did.” He grinned as he placed the smaller cloak over my head and shoulders. “This will help you blend in better.”

  I ran my hand over the fabric, noting the grass stain. Anger tightened my fists. “If you can do something like this, why didn’t you do it before?” I swung at him. “Like last night, when I was freezing.”

  He chuckled. “I kept you warm, didn’t I? Besides, I liked the view.”

  My foot made swift contact with his shin, but he was unfazed. “You are such a creep.”

  He tried to sling an arm around my shoulder, but I ducked. “Don’t even try your charms on me, pervert.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. I was only going to take care of the grass stain on your fabric. It might help you blend in better if you don’t look so shabby.”

  Huffing, I jerked the cloak free and shoved it at him, letting him know where he could put it.

  “That wouldn’t be very productive.” He smoothed his hands over the cloth once more, and the bright green stain began to spread until the whole cloak was dyed green. I stared in amazement as the fabric smoothed and softened, and despite myself, I reached to touch it.

  The coarse cotton had become softer than the most luxurious sheets. Puck motioned toward a trellis of roses and the blossoms reached toward him. As he gestured, they moved through the air and wove themselves throughout the front of the cape and hood, turning into a fragrant, living decoration.

  “There,” he declared. “A cloak fit for a princess.”

  I was so astounded that I didn’t protest when he settled it on my shoulders again. I did protest, however, when he put on his own cloak, pressed a few coins in my hand, and told me to go amuse myself in the market while he went to arrange transportation.

  “You can’t leave me here by myself!”

  “You will be fine. Just stick to the main road and don’t draw attention to yourself. Avoid any vendors with sharp teeth and wait for my return.”

  I grabbed at his cloak as he whirled away from me. “Please, don’t leave me.” I hated begging, but I was terrified.

  A small sigh passed through his lips. “If anyone bothers you, or asks who you belong to, just say you are doing errands for Maeve and Aillil, and that they won’t appreciate you being detained.”

  “Who are Maeve and Aillil?” The shrillness of my voice hurt my own ears.

  “Just do as I say. I can’t take you with me because the ones I must deal with don’t treat humans well.”

  “Do any fae?” I countered. “Aren’t we safer together?”

  He put both hands on my shoulders. “Normally, yes. But you must trust me this time. I will return soon. Keep your hood up, don’t linger in any one place for long, and keep watch for my return.”

  He left so quickly, there was no time to stop him. I stood in shock, trying to not cry.

  Don’t linger in one place.

  Gathering a deep breath, I took slow steps away from the garden and tentatively approached the market. Perhaps if I blended into the crowd—and the beautiful new cloak would help—I could manage until he returned. I just prayed that “soon” wasn’t going to be another ten years.

  I’d just come upon a stall I found interesting—all silks and beautiful crystals—when an old woman pinched my arm.

  “Come with me, girl, if you wish to see your future,” she hissed.

  “I’m fine, thanks.” I gritted my teeth and tried to pull free from her shockingly strong grip.

  “You won’t have a future, human, if you don’t come with me,” she whispered, dragging me across the street.

  Try as I might, I couldn’t break free, and feared making a scene and drawing more attention. Biding my time, I scanned the street for possible escape routes as she pulled me into a tea shop.

  I blinked at the cheerful décor and my mouth watered at the delicious scents of spices and cakes.

  The ancient crone pushed me onto a plush, red velvet chair by a marble table. “Sit. I will tell your fortune.”

  I tried to rise, and she gripped my shoulder with her clawed hand, the talons piercing a warning through the fabric of the flowered cloak.

  “I won’t harm you, girl, but there are many out there who might.”

  She muttered about foolish humans walking alone amongst the Unseelie as she went around the table and brought back two delicate cups and a pot of sweet-smelling tea. She lowered herself into a wooden chair next to mine and swirled the pot before pouring amber liquid into one of the fragile teacups. “Why are you wandering alone?”

  Her eyes pierced mine and my mouth dried as she handed me the cup. I took it from her but didn’t answer immediately.

  “Drink. Speak!”

  “I can’t do both at the same time,” I snapped, and she grinned, showing blackened teeth.

  I wasn’t about to drink, so instead asked, “How do you know which is which? Seelie or Unseelie?”

  From my younger years’ research, I knew about the two factions of the fae—Seelie and Unseelie. Supposedly, the Seelie were the “light” fae, and the Unseelie the “dark” – cruel and capricious if not outright baby-eating evil, though I imagined each group might say that about the other. Rather like political parties in my homeland – each vilified the other, but none of them could be trusted.

  “If you don’t know the difference, girl, you really should not be wandering the market alone.”

  “I’m waiting for a friend,” I said then hastily amended, “doing errands for … drat, what were the names again? … Maeve and Aaron.”

  Her eyes narrowed, nearly disappearing among the wrinkles. “Maeve and Aaron, you say?”

  I nodded vigorously.

  “Lies!” The cup shattered when she struck it on the table, and I jumped in my seat. She rose quickly and grabbed the back of my neck.

  I cried out and tried to send energy into my hands, but she was pushing my neck to where the tea had spilled over the marble. “Look here, girl!”

  I struggled against her and realized it was no use. I don’t know how she held me so easily, and without being able to control magic when I wanted, I had to do as she said. I watched as the tea pooled around a patch of leaves.

  They slowly formed into a crown of ten spikes that quickly shattered, then re-formed into a nine-sided polygon. The old woman and I gasped at the same time.

  “Who are you,” she whispered, backing away, her gaze wary on my face.

  “I told you,” I bluffed. “I work for Maeve and …” oh, crap! … “Aillil.” I stressed the last name firmly.

  The crone looked at the nine-pointed remnant of the shattered crown on the table, her face darkening. “It is time for you to go, treacherous one.”

  “Treacherous one?” I should have left immediately, but my outrage wouldn’t allow it. Who was she calling ‘treacherous?’

  “You are in
league with the Nonagon.” Her shaking finger pointed at the table.

  “I don’t even know what that is. I just got here,” I protested.

  She grabbed my face, nails digging into my cheeks.

  “Ow, let go!”

  Rather than let go, she pulled a white cloth from between her ample bosom and slapped it on my face.

  “Eww!” I struggled to get away, and my panic increased when my limbs suddenly froze. Try as I might, I couldn’t move my arms or legs. “What are you doing to me?” I gagged as she continued to press the cloth to my face, the cloying smell overwhelming – a combination of strong perfume, sweat, and strange spices.

  “Tell me again, who are you?”

  “Meghan Lovejoy.” The words poured out of my mouth of their own volition, and horror froze my veins. She was using magic to force the truth from me.

  “What are you doing with the Nonagon?”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “Who do you work for?”

  I tried to stop the words but could no more control them than I could control the earth’s orbit. “I work for Jimmy Ray at Jerry Blue’s Bar and Grill.”

  She blinked. “Where is that?”

  “Texas.”

  Doubt remained on her face. “The human realm?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Puck brought me to find my mother.”

  Her eyes widened and she softened her grip. “Are you a changeling, child?”

  My mind blanked for a moment before the truth as I knew it came out. “I think so. It’s what I’ve been told.”

  “And you really don’t know about Nonagon?”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  She gently pulled the cloth away from my face and guided me back to the chair. “Sorry for this,” she waved the cloth, and feeling slowly returned to my limbs. “Can’t be too careful with that one.” She shuddered and pointed at the geometric shape of the tea leaves.

  Torn between curiosity and the desire to punch her now that I could move again, I decided discretion was the better part of valor and simply asked, “What is the Nonagon?”

  “Not what. Who.” She shuddered again. “He’s one of the worst among the Seelie. Practically an Unseelie by nature.” She snapped her mouth shut and stared at the door.

  I turned but saw no one. Unnerved, I glanced around the charming shop. There were no customers and no one else in the place. “Did someone come in?” I whispered.

  Her expression said she doubted my sanity. “Did you see anyone come in, you daft girl?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I told you, I’m new to the place. I don’t know who can do what.”

  “No one’s coming in here without my say-so.”

  Okay. That explained why the place was empty and had been since I arrived. “So, tell me more about this Nonagon. Sounds like someone to avoid.”

  “You’d best hope you don’t catch his eye. Lies as easily as he breathes, carelessly destroys lives in pursuit of selfish gains, and toys with hearts on a whim. He’s even worse than the Unseelie,” she finished harshly, her chest heaving.

  Hmn. She sounded like a jilted lover. “How old is he?” I asked.

  She huffed. “How would I know? Older than myself, I’d reckon.”

  Yep, I decided. Jilted. I knew how she felt. I gave her a sympathetic smile. “Well, I’ll try to stay clear of him. What does he look like?”

  Her lips turned down. “Spit and image of old Aengus,” she said, as if I should know who that was.

  It was past time for me to leave. I reached into my cloak and pulled out a coin, asking if it would be enough for the reading.

  Her face turned crafty. “One more might be, if this one is real.” She bit into it, wincing when her dark teeth hit solid metal. “Yes, another should do.”

  I pulled out another, wondering how much I was being overcharged. “Right, well, thank you for the warning. I’ll just go find my friend now.”

  “Stick to the middle of the road and avoid the stalls. You never know who might drag you off.”

  She cackled and I hurried out the door.

  Fortunately, I hadn’t gone far when I recognized the coarse gray cloak. I sped through the crowd and threw my arms around Puck, relief pouring over me like water.

  “What’s all this?” he asked, patting me awkwardly with one hand.

  I pulled back and saw he held a bundle of clothing. “Just get us out of here,” I said.

  “Your wish, my command.” His amused expression turned to alarm when he gazed over my shoulder. He grabbed my hand. “In fact, we must hasten our exit.”

  Chapter Nine

  T he ground exploded at our feet and cobblestone shrapnel burst into the air. Puck deflected the worst away from us though my arm stung where a sharp piece of brick grazed it.

  Frightened and angry fae surged down the street. Puck stormed through them, one hand clutching a bundle of clothing, the other pulling me with him. Through the chaos, I could hear shouts of “Get them!”

  I had a bad feeling the ‘them’ was us.

  I hazarded a glance over my shoulder and my fears were confirmed. Uniformed fae that I could only assume were police or soldiers broke through the crowd in hot pursuit, blasting magic in our direction.

  “What’s happening?” I yelled.

  “I’ve set up a carriage for us, but we need to make it to the other end of the city first.” Puck sounded more breathless than I’d ever heard him, yet rather than fear, I could have sworn his face wore an expression of excitement.

  Figures. All fun and games for him until I get my eye put out by exploding bricks.

  Puck let go of my hand to send gusts of wind behind us, deflecting spears thrown our way. I fell sideways, barely dodging a crater that opened in front of me, and Puck finally dropped the clothes and pulled me up. My heart tripped double-time as I watched the clothing bundle disappear into the hole.

  Once more we sped down the crowded market in which shoppers had wisely parted to let us through. Unfortunately, that gave our pursuers a clearer shot at our heads. We dodged light bombs, spears, stones, and reams of fire only to be tripped up by a bolt of fabric that broke free from a cart. It was just enough to allow a competent fae to magically wrap the cloth around us, binding our arms, while another two heavily gloved soldiers ran forward and slapped iron manacles on our wrists.

  Now that I wasn’t fleeing for my life—only praying for it—I could tell that not all those surging forward wore the same uniforms. The one male who pushed to the front the line wasn’t uniformed at all. He could have stepped out of a fantasy convention in his brocade vest, narrow, form-fitting suit, and outrageous top hat, through which accommodations had been made for his long, pointed ears. Like Puck, his hair was elbow-length and silky, but pale pink, which clashed with his burgundy suit.

  Puck snickered and I wondered if he felt the same as I about the guy’s fashion choices.

  “So, Kemire, did you cause this ruckus? So desperate for attention, are you?” The corner of Puck’s mouth lifted as he gave the other male an ocular once-over.

  The fashion-tragic Kemire didn’t rise to the bait. “Oh, no,” he said smoothly. “This is all on you. There appears to be no end to those who wish to kill you, considering how many you’ve cheated and all the lives you’ve ruined.”

  “I won’t dispute that.” Puck shrugged and I gave him a side-eye.

  Maybe that Kemire guy had a point.

  “Then you shouldn’t be surprised when I take your head.”

  Or maybe not …

  “Hmn. Perhaps you should be more specific, though,” Puck said. “What is your reason for a bounty on my head? And what makes you think you will be successful if your dog wasn’t?

  Wait, Kemire sent that Cu Sith? I shot him a glare, which he didn’t notice because his mottled face was laser-focused on Puck.

  “What dog?” he sputtered then yelled, “You … you were playing strip poker with my wi
fe!”

  Puck’s laughter filled the street and a few other fae joined in, causing Kemire’s face to redden more.

  “That’s it? That’s your reasoning?” Puck jeered. “I must say, friend, that seems far pettier than the usual reasons people want to kill me.”

  “I am not your friend!” Kemire screamed.

  The guy really seemed unhinged. All the while Puck taunted Kemire, I kept trying to loosen any spark of magic from my hands as the iron chaffed and burned my wrist. My efforts tripled when Kemire pulled a wand of dark, gnarled wood from his waistcoat and leveled it at me.

  “Shall I start with removing your pretty plaything?”

  “If you wish to face Maeve’s wrath.” Puck’s tone was light, but I saw beads of sweat forming on his temple.

  Kemire hesitated. I hoped he believed the Maeve story more than the old woman had.

  False hope.

  “Lies,” he spat. “What business would you have travelling with one of Maeve’s?”

  “Same as always. Gold. She’s worth more alive than dead.”

  What the fuck, Puck?!

  The other fae approached and used his wand to lift my chin. “Who are you, human?” he sneered.

  “I … I work for Maeve and Aillil.”

  “That’s right. She does,” a familiar voice came from the crowd.

  Kemire whirled on the old crone from the tea shop. “How do you know this, Anweena?”

  “The usual way. I checked first.”

  Puck’s eyes widened when he saw her, and hers narrowed. “Do what you want with that one,” she jerked a crooked thumb at Puck, “but leave this girl to me.”

  “Why should you get the gold, if I can just end you now?” Kemire shot a bolt of energy from his wand, which she deflected to his feet with a flick of her wrist. He yelped and jumped back, eyeing her with new appreciation and wariness.

  “Fine. What do I care for a human life? Take her and leave him to me.”

  He glared at me. “But make sure Maeve knows I was merciful.”

  “I’ll tell her exactly what you are like.”