Syrith
I stayed curled up in a bowl of fluff the entire night through, sitting guard at her door. I’d not been able to sleep for many hours after our disquieting conversation. I’d seen a flash of the she-devil I’d witnessed in the clone in the above realm. I’d seen a curl of hate flicker through her blue-eyed gaze.
Felt the sting of her rage.
But unlike the creature above, I hadn’t felt disgust for her. Only pity. It would be so easy to hate Galeta, so much easier than trying to get beneath the armor to the terrified and delicate creature beneath, who with one powerful gust of wind could easily snap in half.
I’d come to a conclusion last night.
Galeta was prickly because she was terrified. Scared of her own shadow.
I knew a thing or two about that myself.
For years, I’d shut down after Seraphina’s death. Cursing at anyone or anything that would dare intrude upon the sanctity of my isolation.
Not because I hated them, but because I’d hated myself.
I swallowed hard. I’d maybe only slept an hour or two. And though I could hear the gentle beating sound of her heart, indicating she was finally asleep, I still heard the broken whimpers and quiet sobs. Even in her sleep, she was haunted.
I wasn’t sure why I cared so much. Very little had pricked my curiosity as of late. But something in me recognized something in her. We were broken, both of us reeling from deep pain. We were similar, she and I.
Stretching out my tired and achy limbs, I called upon a transformation. This time my true one. She was well asleep, and I knew she’d not catch me as I really was.
At least once a day, I was forced to take on my true form. I didn’t have to walk around in it long, but after so much shape-shifting, if I didn’t change, my body would literally begin to meld and re-form into twisted amalgams of everything I’d ever shifted into.
It was quite uncomfortable for me. Which was why I forced myself to do it, though I did not care to.
She could walk out and catch me. She was a fairy, after all. She could even wink herself into existence right before my eyes, so fast that I’d not have a moment to re-form into something more appealing and less macabre.
Mother had always loved me as I was. But I remembered Father’s shock, even the curl of his disgust at the sight of me as a newborn babe.
Yes, I was dragonborne, but I was also a creation born straight out of Wonderland’s twisted womb.
In this form, I was both phantom and flesh.
To an unobservant witness, I would appear to have no head at all. Simply a walking body and neck. But if they could peer beneath the dark magic, they could see me. The real me.
The face I wore in my day to day was my true face, only more substantial. I could see. I could taste. Touch. Feel. But it was rare that others could see me.
Rumors had floated through Wonderland for many years now of a creature born of madness. The Headless Horseman, it was called. A creature so vile, so wicked, that it would eat the souls of the living. That the only thing one would see before their death was the mad red, glowing eyes of the devil himself.
It wasn’t true.
My eyes were neither red, nor did they glow. I was simply not fully corporeal at times. There’d been a few times in my youth when I’d dared to go out in public as I really was, always terribly careful to hide my condition from the censorious eyes of others.
But no matter how careful I’d been, I had been spotted, and the legend of my wickedness had grown. So much so that when I’d finally dared to reveal myself to Seraphina for who I really was, she’d opted to end her life by drinking a vial of poison the night before our wedding. Her note to me had said only one thing.
I could never bear your children...
I shuddered as those words sliced through my heart like blades, bleeding me all over again.
With a growl, I shifted to a fully corporeal man and caught the tantalizing whiff of breakfast steaming on the table. Glancing over, I noted that our bowls were full of that same strange broth once more.
This was the start of day three.
And I’d managed to accomplish nothing with Galeta.
Soon, I’d be forced to return to the above realm, to that awful clone that made my flesh crawl with revulsion. Bathing myself in dragon steam, I cleaned up quickly then took a seat and ate without tasting.
The broth was good, as always, and kept me surprisingly full, but my mind was a jumble of thoughts.
How long would I be forced to remain in the outer realm? How long until I could return? And just what in the bloody blazes did this asinine game entail?
I was halfway through my bowl of soup when I felt the press and pop of displaced air.
I’d halfway expected it would be Calypso returning to spirit me away, but instead I looked into the golden eyes of the harpy. She looked sad. Innocent. And curious.
“I saw your form, boy,” she said without preamble.
Instantly, I stiffened, ready with a snappy retort. But she held up her hand, quelling my words.
“Prince of dragons and monsters, you are.” She cocked her head, staring at me in a way she hadn’t before. As though intrigued but not sure why. Then she gave a tiny shake of her head.
“Why are you here?” I asked, staring at her hard as I tried to make sense of my new reality.
She’d told me she’d be watching. But she’d been so silent, so invisible, that not even the keen senses of my dragon had picked up on her. I did not like being surprised.
“I’m learning, boy,” she said slowly.
It was on the tip of my tongue to snap at her that I was no boy. I hadn’t slept well last night, and I was in a foul mood, but the way she spoke, as though she were deeply confused about something, I couldn’t seem to get the words out.
“And what have you learned?” I asked into the thick silence hanging between us.
My words caused her lashes to flicker and her gaze to meet mine. Surprise filtered through their golden depths, as though she’d temporarily forgotten I was even there at all.
The quiet stretched for another long pause before she haltingly said, “I-I am not certain.”
I opened my mouth, ready to ask her another question, but she was gone. All traces of her. Even her scent of lilac and patchouli was no more. Frowning, I stared at all the empty crevices, sensing she was still very much here, but unable to accurately pinpoint where.
A moment later, the air tightened again. And this time it was the goddess come to fetch me. Except this time it was Aphrodite and not her cohort, Calypso.
The Goddess of Love was as beautiful as ever. She wore a cloak of long blond hair only. Not a stitch of clothing encased her form beneath, but the hair slid easily into place with each step she took, keeping a fair bit of her covered while also revealing tantalizing glimpses of toned flesh.
Stardust swirled beneath her eyes and upon her cheekbones. Rosebud lips the color of deepest blood and ivory skin as pale and flawless as an exquisitely cut moonstone, sonnets had been sung over Aphrodite’s beauty. Wars had been fought.
And though I could admire her beauty, I was not moved by it as others might be. My father was of the house of Draconian. Draconian blood ran through my veins. Making me nearly immune to the pulse and power of the Greek pantheon.
She was beautiful, but that was all she was to me.
“Dragonborne,” she said deeply, inclining her head in greeting.
Of all the gods of the pantheon, Aphrodite had always been one of my favorites. She had every right to be vain and petty, and yet she was not. She was kindhearted and loving. Very different from her proud father.
“It is good to finally meet you. I regret I’ve not had the opportunity to do so until now. Forgive me.”
It was impossible to remain vexed around anyone as lovely as she. Aphrodite was also one of the few in the universe who knew what I really was. I highly doubted that her coming to me now was a coincidence.
Blue eyes the color
of deepest silk gazed back at me. “You know why I’m here, surely?”
I nodded. “To escort me to the outer realm.”
“Indeed.” She nodded, causing her hair to tumble and undulate like a gentle wave around her trim shoulders. “I bestow this honor upon no other. But your father was always a favorite of mine, Headless Prince.”
Full lips tipped up at the corners, and I found myself responding in kind.
“This I know. He speaks of you often.”
She accepted my words with a graceful sweep of her lashes. “We haven’t much time, Syrith. I come to tell you what to expect today. The clone has been manufactured to act as she would were she Galeta in truth.”
“Why all the smoke and mirrors? Why didn’t you make a clone of me too? Why must I leave this place?”
Her sparkling eyes turned distant and reflective as she said, “To be perfectly honest with you, Prince, I’m not sure. But I have this feeling in my heart that everything we know and love will change. Maybe your being with the clone is required? I simply don’t know.”
To hear Aphrodite speak of the heart was no small matter. It was her power, after all. There was none in existence who knew or understood matters of the heart as she did.
“Then why do this at all?”
Now that I knew Galeta better, I genuinely wanted to help her. Fix her. Mend her. She was broken just like me. It made me feel a bond to her because of it. But changing everything, I did not relish the sound of that.
Again she shrugged. “I only do what my heart tells me to do, Prince. And in this, I am helpless to stop it. This must happen, and you are the key to undoing all this pain.”
“For her?”
I wasn’t exactly sure what I meant by the question. As a dragon, I had a tendency to ponder matters into the ground. It was what my kind did. Think and think and think some more; trying to analyze all angles of a matter, trying to discern every possible position of every possible outcome. It was the curse of my kind, I supposed, but we did not come to be known as the wise ones for no reason.
Her pretty lips thinned. “And others.”
“Who?”
She shook her head, sighing deeply. “That, I do not know. And though I wish we had more time to tarry on this matter, we must go now. There are games to play.”
Aphrodite sounded weary to my sensitive ears. But then she plastered on a bright smile and shook her head. “Come, Prince. Time to place that surly mask back on and play the game.”
I rather thought she wasn’t speaking to me so much as herself, but I pretended not to notice and nodded instead. “Aye. Let us go now.”
A portal of revolving colors opened up before us, highlighting the depressive bleakness of this realm all over again.
She grinned, as if noticing my thought. “It will not always remain so, Prince. After you.”
Glancing one final time at Galeta’s closed door, I clenched down on my back teeth and stepped through, and Aphrodite followed close on my heels.
“Your first match will be against the centauress. The clone believes, as all the rest do, that this is a match to the death, or a stalemate at the very least. The clone is wicked, and she will take those words to heart. She will try to kill anyone or anything that comes against her. Do not trust her. But also, stop her where you can. The Fates have decreed that only two will die in these games. And I was told that Galeta cannot end the life of any. You must make it appear as though you’re helping and not hindering her.”
I wasn’t sure how I was to pull off this coup, but I’d do it. Somehow. I nodded. “You can depend upon me, Love.”
She smiled. “I know. Unlike my friends, Hades and Caly, I know your soul, Syrith. And I know deep down you’re a good man—you’ve simply forgotten your way.”
I snorted with humor, but the sound wasn’t a funny one.
She laid a gentle hand upon my shoulder, causing me to look down at her. She nodded. “I’m serious, dragon. Seraphina was never good enough for you. Though you gave her your heart, she’d never truly given you hers back.”
I flinched, the words stinging me to my core. Her look was sad.
“I’m sorry to cause you more pain, Prince. But I thought you should know that.”
Gnashing my teeth together so hard that the world echoed with the sound of it, I shrugged as if it didn’t matter.
But it was no easy thing to hear that I’d been the only fool to fall.
Ahead, lights gathered and colors swirled. We were reaching our destination.
“I have designed the setup so that you will always reach the fighting realm before the others. As neither of you have a familiar to guide you here, I’ve stepped up to be that guide.”
We popped out on the other side, into a world full of jagged rocks and spires. The mountain was a strange color of rusted reds and deep, veined purples. The sky a clear shade of blue that reminded me somehow of Galeta’s eyes.
Once, I would have called this place dull, but after days of living in gray, this was an oasis of life. Galeta would have liked it here.
“Thank you,” I said to her. She nodded then snapped her fingers.
A second later, the lifeless Galeta clone appeared by my feet. Looking exactly as she had two days ago. Her chest did not rise with breath.
“Remember my words, Syrith,” Aphrodite said. “And now I’ll leave you. The centauress comes soon. Subdue them as quick as might be. Once you do, I’ll cover this realm in a blanket of darkness and whisk you both away from the prying and intelligent eyes of that horse who is entirely too smart for her own good. Returning you to the mirror and the clone to her place. May the gods be with you.”
She vanished, and the clone rose.
There was no jerky turning on. The clone was simply not aware one moment but aware the next. Twirling on me, she gave me a haughty, calculating look.
“Still here, dragon?” Her words were practically spat at me. “I thought I’d have run you off by now.”
“Impossible to do, fae. I do not scare easily,” I said.
Rushing to my side, until her fist suddenly gripping her wand pressed into my chest, she hissed, “Nor do I. Stay out of my way, and I might let you live.”
I lifted a brow. How was it possible that I could vehemently hate this Galeta as I did and yet still wonder about the one I’d left behind?
They were both part of the same whole. And yet...I hoped she slept true now.
The air displaced once more. And I knew without looking up that the centauress and her mate had finally arrived.
The centauress was pretty enough. With supple brown fur on her backside and a shiny black tail, she was a fine specimen of horseflesh. Her female form too was lovely. She had full breasts, a long, elegant neck, and lovely features. Her teeth were blunt and white and looking a little more horsey than human, but she was beautiful in her own right.
A thick braid of brown hair crowned her head. Across her chest plate was a brown leather strap that held her bow and quiver full of arrows strapped tight to her back. Standing beside her was an equally handsome-looking man.
He had dark hair, rather shaggy, with the tips of it reaching his shoulders. He was bare chested and wore no pants. But then, satyrs rarely did. His legs were as hairy and shaggy as the hair crowning his head. I lifted a brow at the strange pairing. Interspecies romances were severely frowned upon by centaur herds.
But who was I to cast aspersions? There wasn’t another in all of Kingdom quite like me.
The centauress withdrew her bow and gripped it fast in her hand. She and the satyr stood several hundred yards away from us, both looking at us with intelligent and keen eyes.
She spoke first. “This day we must fight. But I bear neither of you any ill will. Remember that.”
Her voice was steady and sure, reminding me of the majestic grace of a prized stallion. This was an honorable creature. But she would fight. And so we must too.
“I bear you ill will, horse-faced bitch,” Galeta chewed out beneath her
breath and then shoved me back, hissing at me once more to keep my distance and not get in her way. I rubbed at my temple. This was going to be a long bloody exercise in patience for me today. Never something I’d excelled at before.
The clone taunted the pair with crude gestures and then twirled her star-tipped wand in the air.
I stood there, watching dispassionately, wondering what kind of mask I should be wearing today. That of the spoiled Prince or perhaps an angry beast matching the fury of the fae beside me. So deep in contemplation was I that I didn’t pay attention until almost too late to realize that Galeta had conjured a spear of dark magic and was now aiming to throw a direct hit to the centauress’s chestnut-colored flank.
“Bloody hell,” I bit out.
Making a quick decision, I shifted. Into my dragon form. I was a large beast with red scales that gleamed like magma in sunlight. I was also graceful. Elegant.
Not the clumsy oaf I now suddenly was who stumbled around like a clod on massively taloned feet and stumbled into the wee fairy, knocking the spear from her hand and shattering it upon the earth.
“Damn you, bastard!” Galeta snarled, and I was certain she would have loved nothing more than to have ended me herself.
But the centaur was letting her arrows fly with uncanny precision. I howled as one sharp-tipped arrowhead pierced through the narrowest sliver between scales to the tender skin right above my brow bone. Blood instantly filled my eye.
Growing angry and disgusted by the entire ordeal, I found that it wasn’t difficult to pretend to be a beast.
I defended Galeta as best I could while also preventing the nasty she-devil from enacting death curses. Once, she’d gotten to within the final word of a curse before I was able to “accidentally” trip over an exposed chunk of rock in the ground. My broad tail whipped out haphazardly, tossing the wee fae high into the sky.
She screamed, confused for a moment and nearly falling on her head before she spread her wings to right herself.
Death glared back at me through cold, frosty eyes. She knew. I knew the clone knew what I was doing. Dragons weren’t clumsy. Yet, several times now, I’d very nearly fallen and taken her out.
The Fairy Queen (The Dark Queens Book 6) Page 11
