Fae Bound

by Hailey Woodward

  Almost as if I’d summoned him with the thought, Dietrich appeared at my side.

  “How many?” Isana asked, looking at him.

  “Five, myself included. There is rumor that more were expected, but it seems that several parties were… waylaid.”

  The partially healed wound on the back of my neck prickled. Isana nodded, looking unsurprised. “Aerenia’s work?”

  “It would seem so.” He glanced at me, then at Isana, raising an eyebrow. She shook her head, her expression suddenly grim. Dietrich narrowed his eyes, but at that moment a bell tolled, the note so loud I could feel it reverberating in my ribs. The unearthly music faded to silence, and a hush fell out of the crowd. All dancing ceased. The assembled fae—all of them—dropped into deep bows. Isana pulled me down beside her as she sank to one knee. “Keep your gaze averted,” she said under the rustle of movement. “Aerenia approaches.”

  I swallowed, staring at the intricately tiled floor. Aerenia. The degree to which I did not want to meet this woman was astounding, really. I heard a gentle shoosh of doors opening, then several sets of footsteps.

  “Contestants rise,” said a deep voice. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Dietrich stand. Isana motioned for me to remain still, and I nodded, my heartbeat accelerating. There was a quiet, female laugh. “Sir Tisean of the Seelie. How delightful. Come forward with your company.”

  I couldn’t help myself—I glanced up to see Tisean and his company moving forward, all wearing grim expressions. Before I could see anything else, however, Isana made a quick hissing noise, and I dropped my gaze again. I could make out an exchange of words between Aerenia and Tisean, enough to tell that he was presenting her with a gift of some sort. Apparently she accepted, because when Tisean and company returned to their place among the fae, they looked distinctly relieved.

  “Well. Prince Dietrich of the Alder Wood,” said Aerenia. “And in such unorthodox company.” Anger flitted over Isana’s face, but she masked it quickly. “Come forward.”

  Isana rose, motioning for me to do so as well. She kept her eyes down, so I took my cue from her. Our little company followed Dietrich as he wove his way through the crowd of kneeling fae. We approached the front dais, then stopped. I looked to Isana, who had raised her gaze. I took that as permission to do so myself, and, with great trepidation, turned to face Queen Aerenia.

  The fae woman was tall, with ebony hair that cascaded past her waist. She wore a dress that seemed to be made of undulating darkness, writhing around her slender form. She had fine, elegant features, which were engaged in that moment in looking at Dietrich with cold amusement. Her eyes were dark, but with golden flecks in the iris. “Welcome, Alder Prince. It has been long since your people have chosen to join in matters of succession.”

  “We have decided that the time has come. We do not wish to stand idly by while others determine the fate of the fae,” Dietrich replied, holding his head high. Isana took a slow step backwards, situating herself slightly behind me and to the left. I made to step back myself, but Mitchell motioned for me to stay put.

  Aerenia laughed quietly. “So bold, Dietrich. But then, no one has ever accused your family of cowardice.” She turned to Mitchell. “A representative of the Septagonal. You show great courage in coming here… or perhaps it is foolishness, given your allegiance.”

  “I am here as a gesture of goodwill,” said Mitchell, keeping his tone even. “The Septagonal can read the shifting tides of power among the fae as well as anyone. We wish to communicate our willingness to put our history aside in the interest of greater cooperation with your Court.”

  “Wisdom from the Septagonal. How uncharacteristic.” She turned back to Dietrich. “You are aware of the risks associated with participation in this contest?”

  “The life of the contestant is in his hands and no other. No quarter is asked, and none expected.”

  “And you assume these risks voluntarily?”

  “I do.”

  “Very well.” Isana brushed her hand against mine. I glanced back at her as I heard something clink quietly. “Be calm, Samantha,” she whispered, her voice layered in enthrallment.

  I felt a surge of fury as I realized what she was doing, but it faded almost immediately, washed away by a sense of pure serenity. Why had I been so worried? It was perfectly safe here… pleasant, beautiful… I barely even noticed as Isana secured what felt like a metal collar around my neck, affixed to a fine silver chain, which she held. She kept her gaze determinedly away from my face.

  “I thank you for your acceptance of my companions and myself into this competition,” Dietrich was saying. It was difficult to focus on him… easier just to let my mind wander. “May we be permitted to show our gratitude?”

  Aerenia smiled. I felt a stirring of unease, deep in the recesses of my mind. “Of course.”

  “Thank you.” He made a quick motion, and Isana came forward, leading me by the silver chain. The feeling of unease grew stronger, though it was still muted, as if smothered by a dark mist. “We present, as a gift to the Unseelie Court, this mortal.”

  The anxiety spiked to panic, and I took a step back, one hand flying to the collar at my throat. Isana grabbed my hand, forcing it down again. “Be calm,” she whispered again, a ragged edge to her voice. I felt the panic recede. Aerenia gave a cool smile.

  “How very traditional of you, Dietrich. Tell me, why should I accept this tribute?”

  “The young mortal is from across the sea, from the new world. Further, she is a talented musician. We believe you will find her to be an engaging curiosity.”

  Aerenia studied me for a moment. I shifted, wondering why I found her gaze so unnerving. “So docile,” she said after a moment. “Has she worn the iall na braighdeanas for long?”

  “No, Majesty. She is merely enthralled,” said Dietrich, voice bland.

  “Really.” She waved a hand. “Bring her forward.”

  Isana approached, leading me slightly behind her. With a deep bow, she offered the chain to Aerenia. Aerenia took it, twining the fine links between her long fingers. Isana retreated quickly, standing beside Dietrich, looking pale. Aerenia lightly touched one finger to my forehead.

  With her touch, Isana’s hold on me evaporated. Realization hit, with panic close on its heels. I wrenched myself away—

  —then collapsed on the ground at her feet, intense heat searing through my veins. A scream tore out of my throat, and I curled into a ball, shaking as the pain slowly receded.

  “Delightful,” I heard Aerenia say through the blood pounding in my ears. I fought to restrain a whimper, but it escaped nonetheless. “I think you are right, Dietrich. I shall find this one most amusing.”

  A shudder ran through me. I tried to still myself, but I was shaking violently. Isana…

  “Sir Conall,” Aerenia said. I heard someone shift, then felt the end of the leash twitch. “Find a place for her. Perhaps she can be of some use to me before the start of the competition.”

  “Yes, Majesty.” I forced myself into a sitting position, still shaking. I looked up. Aerenia had handed my leash to a tall Sidhe knight—Conall, presumably—that I hadn’t noticed till that point. He met my eyes with a cold expression.

  “Get up,” he said flatly. I tried, but my knees buckled, and I stumbled back to the cold floor. He grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet. I tossed a desperate look over my shoulder at Isana, but she and Mitchell were both staring straight ahead, determinedly avoiding my gaze. Conall turned and began walking. I stumbled as he pulled my leash taught, then quickened my pace to keep some slack in it. Conall led me through a small side door, into a darkened passage. He lit several torches with a wave of his hand, then moved on. I had to hurry to match his pace, fighting down the panic that rose higher inside of me with each step.

  After a time, we came to a row of elaborate doors. He paused before one, then pulled a ring of silver keys from his hip. With a fluid motion he unlocked the door, then motioned for me to enter. “You are to stay here,
mortal. Queen Aerenia will want you well-rested when she summons you again.” When I didn’t move, he shoved me into the room roughly. I stumbled, falling to my knees. I heard the door lock behind me.

  Trembling, I looked up, trying to get my bearings. To my surprise, I was in a well-furnished room. It was a bit larger than my studio apartment back home, with a large bed heaped with furs looming against one wall. The walls were covered with woven tapestries, depicting various scenes from Gaelic folklore, and a thick scarlet rug covered most of the floor. Two chairs guarded a sturdy oak table, on which rested a mirror and a vase holding flowers carved either from glass or from ice.

  It was a very comfortable cage.

  I stood shakily, took two steps, then threw myself against the door. A howl burst out of me, and I tore at the collar, skinning my fingertips on the metal scales. The leash clinked. I slammed my fist against one of the few sections of exposed stone on the walls, leaving blood spatters, then threw myself against the door again. It didn’t so much as shudder. Trapped. I slumped, then sank to the floor, shaking. I sniffed once, then gave up at trying to hold back the tears. They ran down my face in thin lines, and before I knew it, I was sobbing uncontrollably. I curled myself into a ball, huddled in a corner by the door.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I don’t know how long I stayed there. I eventually came to myself, about when I realized that my tears had frozen to my cheeks and that I couldn’t breathe through my nose for the frost that had accumulated there. I stood stiffly, then crossed to the bed. I stripped off the first few layers of blankets and furs, wrapped myself tightly, then sat down, shivering. Saorla’s charm was beginning to wear off, apparently. I tried to order my thoughts. All right. Held as a captive—no, I thought, my hand closing around the chain at my neck, as a pet—in the Unseelie Court. To be kept alive until Aerenia no longer found me amusing. The Bestiary had been very clear on how the Unseelie treated mortals, and had included several stories in which they had tortured or killed mortals for the sheer sadistic pleasure of it. What hope did I have that that wouldn’t be my fate here as well?

  All this was assuming that Aerenia did find me amusing, of course. I buried my face in the blankets. Maybe I’d get lucky and she’d forget about me. Then I could just starve to death here in peace.

  It was on that happy thought that sheer emotional exhaustion overcame me. I laid down, sinking into a light, troubled sleep.

  “Wake up, mortal!”

  Something heavy landed on my chest, and I sat upright with a gasp, flinging whatever it was across the room. A yowl sounded, followed by a thud. I looked around frantically, my heart beating hard in my ears. A second later, a large black cat jumped up onto the bed, staring at me balefully with yellow eyes.

  “That,” it said, “was rude.” It had the voice of a middle-aged woman.

  I took several deep breaths, trying to calm my heart rate as the cat sat down, watching me narrowly. “Who are you?” I asked, swallowing.

  The cat licked her paw, though she was still looking at me sideways with an annoyed expression, her ears pinned back against her head. “I am the Court’s head composer. Everyone calls me Cat, or the Cat when they’re feeling more loquacious,” she said. “You can do likewise.”

  I looked at her carefully. She was larger than your average housecat, and stark black, except for a white diamond-shaped patch on her chest. Something trickled through my memory. Thomas’ book. Given the many shape-changers running through Irish folklore, I wasn’t sure, but… “Are you a catsidhe?” I asked.

  “You’ve heard of me!” The cat looked delighted, her annoyance apparently evaporating. “Yes, I am. More correctly, the catsidhe, since I’m the only one left. In this Court, anyway. Not many mortals are familiar with me these days, since the worldlines make travel to Earth so difficult…”

  I tried to remember what I knew about catsidhe. There wasn’t much—I seemed to recall the entry being rather short. There had been something about it being a shapeshifting creature that had been trapped in cat form, along with a note not to trust it under any circumstances. Something of a redundancy, since we were talking about fae, I thought bitterly, my mind turning to Dietrich and Isana. Tisean and his retainers weren’t much better. I had already seen what his protection was worth. A heavy, pervasive sense of dread settled over me as the full implications of what had happened to me seeped back to the forefront of my mind.

  “What’s your name?” the cat asked. I had a hard time drawing up the energy to answer. “Unless you want me to call you ‘mortal’ for the rest of your life.”

  The rest of my life. Something about the way she said it made me think she didn’t anticipate that being a very long time. I felt numb. “Samantha,” I said quietly.

  The cat padded over to me, looking up at me with those unnerving yellow eyes. “Well, Samantha,” she said, “You look awful. The Rhinelanders brought you in terrible condition. Bad form of them, really.” She nodded toward a pile of blue cloth resting on the table. “Put that on.”

  I got to my feet, stiff, and picked up the cloth. It turned out to be a long, midnight blue dress, trimmed around the neck and sleeves with silver fur. I looked in the mirror that stood on the table. The cat was right; I was in terrible condition. My eyes were red and puffy, and the front of my shirt was still crusted over with dried blood from the spriggan attack. My hair had largely escaped its braid and was standing out in odd directions. I stared in the mirror for a long moment, my gaze falling to the collar around my throat. Then, wordlessly, I changed into the dress. It left my shoulders partially bare, and I could see a mottled purple bruise creeping up where I’d thrown myself against the door. I slipped my feet into a pair of fur-lined slippers that had been under the dress.

  “There, now,” said the cat. She leapt from the bed onto my shoulder, her claws pricking my skin as she found her balance. I winced but didn’t protest. The cat pulled the remainder of my braid loose with her teeth, then looked at the resulting mess of hair appraisingly.

  “Can you do anything with that?” she asked. She hopped onto the table. “There’s a brush in the drawer.”

  Still not speaking, I pulled open the drawer beneath the mirror and found the brush. I worked it through my hair, not really paying attention to what I was doing. There were pins in the drawer as well, so I pulled my hair up into a plain bun. The cat jumped back onto my shoulder, tugging a few tendrils loose to frame my face.

  “Very nice,” she said, satisfaction in her voice as she returned to the table. I sank down on the chair, barely noticing that I had done so. The cat stood on her hind legs, resting her paws against my collarbone. I winced as she sniffed the collar, her nose twitching. “Oh,” she said, drawing back. Her ears flattened for a moment. “That’s a nasty one, isn’t it? A bit much to keep a mortal in line, I’d think.” She sat back down.

  I brushed the edge of the collar. “Why did they do this to me?” I asked, barely audible.

  “The collar? Or gifting you to Aerenia?” I shrugged. Either. Both. “Bringing you as a tithe was actually rather brilliant of them,” said the cat casually. “The fae kingdoms used to exchange talented mortals as gifts regularly, before the Pact outlawed the practice. It’s a stricture that the Unseelie have always resented. By flouting it, the Alder Prince was appealing to old traditions and alliances while also demonstrating his support for Aerenia’s plans.” Plans? “And for the sorcerer to go along with it… things are changing, faster than I would have expected.” She sounded pleased. “Hands.”

  It took me a second to realize what she was telling me to do, but I held out my hands, not looking at her. She made a quiet hissing noise. “What have you been doing?” I glanced at my palms. There were the partially healed scrapes from where I’d skinned them on the tree root when I’d tried to escape, the shallow gash where Tisean had cut me, and the bloody patches on my fingertips where I’d clawed at the collar earlier. “You’d think a musician would take better care of her hands. You’ll get blood on t
he instruments,” the cat muttered, then licked each of my palms once. The skin instantly began to knit together. I dropped my hands to my lap, not even able to feel surprised by this. “What is it that you play?” the cat asked. “The Rhinelanders didn’t say.”

  “Cello,” I replied quietly.

  “Cello,” the cat repeated. “Not one of our more traditional instruments, but we do have one, from back when it was more common to have human musicians here… Are you any good?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’d best hope so,” she said warningly. “Your skill will have a direct relationship with how long you stay alive.” She waited, and when it became apparent that I wasn’t going to speak, said, “With me, Samantha.” She dropped to the floor and trotted over to the door. She swiped a claw across the wood, and the door creaked open. She glanced back at me. I hadn’t moved. “Come on,” she said. “Everyone is dancing, celebrating the beginning of the competition. We’re not likely to meet anyone.”

  So, a low risk of running into goblins or banshees or trolls. Well, that was something, although to be honest, I almost didn’t care. I got to my feet and followed the cat. The dress had a deep pocket on the right side, so I tucked the end of my leash into it.

  The cat led me through a series of winding halls. I wasn’t really paying attention to the path we were taking, but I suspected that even if I had, I wouldn’t have been able to track our route. The way was lit by torches that burst into life as the cat passed by them. The firelight cast a long shadow behind her, one that was more human than cat-shaped. I shivered.