by Bailey Dark
I snarl viciously at her and snap my powerful jaws. “Suit yourself, mortal.”
With a final growl, I launch myself off of the balcony and into the sky. I free fall for a moment, just long enough to enjoy the wind rushing through my fur before I stretch out my wings. The large wings catch the wind with a jolt. I glide through the sky, circling the castle once.
Below me, my guards and servants are busy with activity. The news of the woman’s arrival has spread quickly. I worry that my people will put too much faith in us. I spot Navi in the courtyard below, she waves.
Slowly, I descend. My great wings beat against the wind to fight against gravity until my feet touch the stones of the courtyard. I prowl towards Navi, rolling out my shoulders. She watches me appraisingly.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I wonder if it’s wise to keep the woman here,” Navi says bluntly.
If I could cock a brow at her, I would. “What do you mean? Where else would be keep the woman who could save my people?”
“I mean, I wonder if it was wise to bring her here at all. She doesn’t appear to be a Bloodbane witch. Or a witch at all.” She pauses. “I fear the scholars may have made a mistake.”
“She is the one Navi, I can smell it on her,” I purr.
Navi mulls over this. “It will be challenging.”
“Is she still throwing a tantrum?” I sit, my tail flicking out languidly behind me.
“She calmed down after you left. I heard weeping.”
If my heart weren’t so cold and if I hadn’t lived for so many years, I might have pitied the woman. But my people’s plight is far worse than hers. “I will visit her tonight.”
Navi sighs, her hand gripped around the hilt of her sheathed sword. “Be careful, Altair.”
“Why?” I stretch. “Worried the little mortal will break my me?”
Navi says nothing, but her eyes tell me all that I need to know. I rise and stalk past her, the claws of my feet clicking on the stone. Navi always was too over-protective of me. She strides away towards the soldier’s barracks and I watch her stiff back. She was there the night Maaz cursed me. And I know she feels responsible for what happened. Even in a thousand years she hasn’t forgiven herself.
Night is falling, the sun dripping over the horizon like molten gold. I feel a tinge of nerves in my stomach at the thought of meeting the woman in person for the first time. Mortals know very little of my realm and of magic, they think the Fae are children’s stories. And they think witches are pagans.
She must believe me.
I need her to believe me. To trust me.
Or my entire world will pay the price.
As the last drop of sunlight fades, my body transforms from the winged beast to my Fae form in a cloud of smoke. Maaz always was very theatrical. I brush off my black tunic, and a feather floats to the ground. I grind it beneath my foot before heading back to the castle.
Outside the woman’s room, I pause in front of a mirror and study myself. I run a hand over my black hair, tucking loose strands back into place. Dressed in an obsidian tunic and pants, I wonder if I look too intimidating.
I am Altair, King of the Fae.
Intimidating is my personal preference.
I wait and listen. The woman is silent behind the door, but I catch the soft sounds of her breath. She seems calmer now.
Good. Because we don’t have much time for her to ready herself.
Without knocking, I throw the door open and stride into the room. The woman is on the bed, sleeping. She must have tired herself out with all the crying and raging. I pause over her. She looks harmless while she sleeps. I reach a hand out to tuck a stray strand of light brown hair out of her face instinctively.
Suddenly, her hand is at my wrist, gripping it tightly. She tugs it, jerking it to the side and tossing my arm away. Off balance, I stumble, just as she lunges from the bed. She sprints for the door, but I’m in front of her in an instant. She gasps, surprised by my speed. I grin down at her, my hazel eyes flashing with rage.
She darts around me, but my hand is there to catch her. I wrap my arm around her waist as she struggles against me.
“Let me go, bastard!” She snarls.
I drag her back towards the bed and she squirms more fiercely. But I’m stronger than her and I’m faster than her. She could never escape me. With a grunt, I lift her from the ground and toss her carelessly onto the bed. She yelps, bouncing softly and then scrambles to the edge, as if to run again.
“Not so fast,” I growl, pushing her back onto the mattress.
She glares fearfully at me as I pin her down. Straddling her now, my knees are on either side of her waist, my hands pinning her arms around her head. She turns to the side, exposing that delicious, porcelain neck. I swallow with some difficulty as I resist the urge to run my tongue along the nape of her perfect skin.
As if she can sense my inclination, she snaps her head towards me. Her eyes meet mine, fierce and fiery. She studies my face, the scowl on her lips deepening as she takes in my features. I squeeze her wrists tightly and she winces. Her eyes drift to my pointed ears. Surprised, she sucks in a sharp breath, her chest rising. My gaze drops to her chest, to the cleavage visible above the neckline of her gown. Beautiful, flawless skin. I growl, instinct demanding that I claim her for myself. At the sound, her eyes go wide and fearful.
“I won’t hurt you,” I say, forcing some semblance of kindness into my voice.
“You’re hurting me right now,” she retorts, clenching her hands into fists.
“Because you were trying to escape.” I tilt my head towards the open door. “Though I don’t know where you would go. You certainly wouldn’t get far. My guards are all around and the palace is a very, very big place.”
“Where am I? Who are you?” She raises her voice, struggling against me again. “What am I doing here?” I push away from her, releasing her arms and slipping off the bed in one swift move. She sits up, watching me apprehensively as I shut the door.
I gesture to one of the arm chairs by the fireplace and incline my head.
She purses her lips and lifts her chin. “I’m fine over here.”
“Sit.” I say, grabbing the back of the chair and squeezing the fabric tightly.
“No thank you.”
I narrow my eyes at her, “It isn’t a request.”
Stiffly, she stomps towards me and throws herself into the armchair. She crosses her arms and looks pointedly away from me. “I want to go home. Take me back. Away from… whatever this place is.”
“No,” I say, slinging an ankle over my knee.
“Why the fuck not?”
I lounge back, enjoying the way her brows furrow with anger. “What is your name, female?”
“My god, you don’t even know my name?” She scoffs. “Why would you send that monster after me if you don’t even know my name?”
My brows raise in surprise. So, she hasn’t realized that the beast and I are one. Good, that gives us time. “Just tell me your name.”
She meets my gaze defiantly. “Verity. Verity Chastain.”
“Verity,” I say, tasting her name. Against her own desires, she blushes. “It’s a beautiful name.”
Verity. The key to ending this curse. My curse.
She isn’t how I pictured her, and I imagined our first meeting differently, though I’m not sure what I expected. Of course, she’s well within her rights to be upset at having been ripped away from her life and brought here. And it’s understandable that she would be disbelieving.
But this is her new reality.
And as cruel and unfair as it may seem, I have no inclinations to go easy on her.
Chapter 4
Verity
The man with pointed ears lounges arrogantly in the armchair, watching me silently. Is he a man? I’m not sure. He looks like a man in every way except for the pointed ears and the strange light in his hazel eyes. He’s also the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.
When
he had me pinned on the bed, I couldn’t deny that a primitive part of me imagined what it would feel like to have him rip my wedding dress off with his teeth.
Like I said—a primitive part of me.
The part that doesn’t care that I’ve been kidnapped. The part that only cares that this man with the chiseled jaw and a body that is no doubt rock hard beneath all those clothes growled at me.
But I shut that down right away. The fact is, this man and whatever creature had snatched me from my wedding and brought me here were criminals. He and everyone in this castle are holding me against my will. They don’t seem particularly concerned, which is infuriating.
I press my lips into an angry, thin line. “People will be looking for me. They’ll find you, and when they do, they’ll lock you up for a long time.”
He snorts, a wicked grin stretching across his lips. “Charming. Though I doubt they’ll find you here.”
“And where is here?” I ask. Maybe I can glean some information from him and use it to escape.
“Desmarais, my capitol city,” the man says, stretching his arms wide. “In the kingdom of Alnembra.”
“I’ve never heard of Desmarais, or Alnembra,” I murmur. Perhaps this man is a lunatic. So wrapped up in an elven fantasy he made up a country and even wears prosthetic elf ears. I point to his ears and waggle my finger. “Are those real?”
“Would you like to touch them?” He asks nonchalantly. “Come over here, I won’t bite.”
Somehow, I seriously doubt that. “I’ll pass,” I say. “Who are you?”
“King Altair of the House Ranul. You can call me Altair.” He dips his chin in a shallow bow.
I cock a brow disbelievingly. “A King? Really? That’s what you’re going with? It’s your fantasy I guess. I love how dedicated you are to your character, it’s truly admirable. But I’d like to end this game of pretend now.”
Altair barks a laugh. “Fantasy? Pretend? Oh, Verity, darling, you couldn’t be further from the truth.”
Darling? I bristle at the condescending tone to his deep voice. “You can’t honestly expect me to believe that elves are real? And that I’m in some magical, fantasy kingdom?”
“Fae, actually,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes. “Fae, not elves. Elves are so… commercial.”
I roll my eyes. “What am I doing here? Couldn’t you have picked someone else to play pretend with you?”
Altair’s eyes darken. “No, actually. It could only be you.”
“Why?” I ask, curiosity piqued.
His lips press tightly closed and he scowls. “Enough. No more questions. All you need to know is that you will remain here. I will not return you to the mortal realm.”
I laugh softly, but the sound is humorless. Either I’m being held hostage by an insane cosplayer, or I’m hallucinating. There can be no other option. I refuse to believe that elves, or Fae—whatever they’re called—are real. It’s simply impossible.
I’m a librarian, knowledge is my greatest strength. Even children know that elves aren’t real. I believed in them when I was a kid, but I’ve grown up since then. I don’t make houses for the fairies in my backyard anymore. I don’t picture elves running through the trees beside my car when I drive through the forest. This is insanity.
“I’m hallucinating, that’s the best option, right?” I murmur, mostly to myself. Altair cocks his head at me, listening. “Because if I’m hallucinating that means I’m not kidnapped, and insane cosplayers didn’t create a giant animatronic bird to capture me. Because that’s just crazy.”
“Animatronic?” Altair mutters.
“And if I’m not kidnapped, then that means I’ll wake up soon. Preferably on the hill, with minutes to spare before my wedding,” I continue, ignoring him. “And no one will be the wiser. No one even has to know I had a stress-induced hallucination.”
“Your wedding,” Altair echoes. His voice is as cold as ice and sends a chill through me.
“Yes. I was supposed to get married today. So take me back,” I demand, though my voice warbles with uncertainty.
Do I really want to go back? Is this hallucination like a wake-up call for me—a realization that Henry is not the one for me? And if it’s a kidnapping, am I actually lucky? I purse my lips thoughtfully; I could always use the kidnapping as an excuse to break up with Henry. No one could blame me if I did that. But what kind of person would that make me? The kind that can’t take responsibility for their own feelings.
Altair’s eyes are like a razor-sharp blade piercing through my chest. I thought he looked dangerous before, but now, there’s a murderous gaze in his eyes. He picks at his nails. “You don’t sound particularly enthused, perhaps you should be thanking me?”
No, I can’t back out of my wedding. Henry is a good man, mostly. And my parents need me to do this for them. “I am enthusiastic,” I argue, forcing a grin. “But being kidnapped has killed the mood. Take me back.”
Altair loses all semblance of nonchalance. He leans forward, baring his teeth at me. “You may as well forget about your groom because you are never going back. You’re mine now, do you understand?”
Rage floods through me, followed by painful sorrow. “You won’t get away with this, you can’t keep me here!” I shout, balling my tulle skirt in my fists.
Altair rises, looming over me. “I do what I will,” he says, his voice dangerously soft. I freeze at the tone, some instinct in me forcing me to clamp down like a rabbit in a hawk’s gaze.
He turns on his heel and stalks from the room. I can see the rage broiling off of him. The door slams shut in his wake, and I hear the lock click from the other side. Trapped here. Exhaustion sweeps through me, quelling some of my rage and fear. If he had wanted to hurt me, he would have done it already. But I don’t trust him.
I drop my head against the blue suede of the armchair, staring morosely at the fireplace. My room is several stories off the ground, and the castle appears to be built on a cliff side. If I tried to escape through the window, chances are good I would fall to my death.
And, of course, waltzing out the door isn’t an option. Altair said there were many guards. I bet he has some posted outside my door right now. And if I were to run, he wouldn’t be far behind. He’s fast, impossibly fast. But maybe that’s because he’s Fae.
My lips spread into a grin at the thought. In my fatigue, I had actually almost started to believe his ludicrous story. If it were true, and I was in another dimension—or another realm as he called it—I would never find my own way back to New York again. I wonder vaguely if time passes differently here. Maybe I’ve already been gone for three years.
I shake my head, forcing the thought away. Speculation won’t help. I drop my eyes to my wedding dress, to the lace and tulle that’s torn and frayed after a day of raging and the brief scuffle I had with Altair.
Tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them back. I can’t cry. I can only imagine how upset my parents and Tara must be. My parents were so looking forward to the wedding. Henry is their idea of a golden boy, the perfect son-in-law. And Tara is probably worried sick. She would know that I wouldn’t run away without telling her.
Henry… I curl in on myself, thinking of how angry he must have been when I never appeared for the ceremony. I’m sure after a few days of fury, he’ll come around. He’ll realize that something must have happened to me. And if I do find a way home, he’ll take me back. I hope.
But I can’t sit around in this wedding dress any longer. I fumble with the zipper in the back but finally manage to tug it down. I step out of it and carefully drape it over the arm chair Altair was sitting in. After rummaging through a dresser, I find a man’s shirt. The same style that Altair was wearing. It’s loose and airy, with two strings at the neckline to tie together.
If I’m to get out of here, and I need to get out of here, then I’ll have to somehow convince Altair to trust me. Once he trusts me, maybe he’ll reveal how I got here and how to get back. He’ll give me more freedom and leeway,
which is exactly what I need. Altair is my ticket out.
After some thought, I drag a wooden chair in front of the door and prop it under the handle. They can keep my locked in but perhaps I can keep them locked out. Satisfied, and feeling a little safer, I slip under the covers of the king-sized bed and roll to face the door. Blinking sleepily, my eyes grow heavier each time they slip closed. Sleep takes me swiftly, and I dream about Altair.
Chapter 5
Altair
I spread my wings, relishing the warmth of the sunlight on my feathers as I soar over Desmarais. Perhaps Navi was right about Verity. Perhaps she isn’t the key to ending the curse. I bank sharply left until I’m facing the castle. She’s there, inside her room. What she’s thinking only the Gods know. Though I can assume with some certainty she’s thinking of her beloved fiancé. I snarl at the thought of the man I’ve never met.
I snarl because he has claimed her heart. Because if her heart belongs to another, she will be hard-pressed to do what she must to save my kingdom. I don’t want to fly too close to the castle, in case I see her on her balcony. I know the sight of her will tempt me to stop and speak with her. But I don’t want to hear anything more about her marriage, or her demands to return to the mortal realm.
She can’t go back without my help, something I suspect she has figured out. The mortal realm is connected to this one through a portal that only the strongest of the Fae can summon. But we don’t often attend the human world. They die so quickly, and their conflicts are so petty, the Fae tire of them easily.
Verity is one of the first humans to step foot into this world. There was a legend that a man once wandered into this realm. He wandered throughout the Fae lands for a time before discovering the Bloodbane witch clans. No one saw him again.
I spy a shadow against one of the windows in Verity’s room and turn away from it. I dive towards the ground. I streak past the castle walls and then the face of the cliff, towards the buildings below. At the last minute, I stretch my wings and catch myself. The air billows me upwards, back to soaring height.
