Fae Bound

by Hailey Woodward

  “Seems excessive.”

  “It isn’t,” I said, a bit shortly. That was rich, coming from a creature whose mortal equivalent slept nearly double what a human did. “Do fae not sleep?”

  The cat stretched, extending her claws. “Some yes, some no,” she said. “I do, personally, but then, I am a cat.”

  She fell silent, and I closed my eyes, leaning forward to rest my forehead against my hands. I almost felt I could fall asleep right there, supernatural cat notwithstanding. Fear is an exhausting emotion, not to mention the physical toll of pain. How long had it been since the cat had awakened me? It felt like days, even though logically I knew it couldn’t be more than a few hours. I also hadn’t eaten for over a day, but if the cat hadn’t remembered that mortals need to eat, I wasn’t going to remind her. For one, I have a tendency towards nausea when I’m anxious, which, oddly, I currently was. Secondly, there was a very good reason Thomas had included ‘don’t eat the fae food’ in his list of absolute rules. In the section on Sidhe, the Bestiary had mentioned that fae food had a sort of binding influence on mortals, making it much harder for them to leave the fae realm. I had no intention of doing anything to make my situation worse, even if it meant going hungry. It didn’t sound like anyone expected this competition to go more than a couple of days, anyway. I could last that long. I hoped.

  “Cat?” I asked after a moment, sitting up.

  “Hmm?” She had curled up on the chair next to mine, looking like an inky pool of darkness. She didn’t raise her head, but her ears swiveled upright.

  “Me being here, as a tithe… it’s a Pact violation, isn’t it?” I asked carefully.

  “Yes. A blatant one.” There wasn’t any particular concern in her voice.

  “So…” I wasn’t sure how to phrase my question. “How was Aerenia able to accept me? I thought fae couldn’t break their oaths.”

  The cat yawned, showing off startlingly white teeth. “They can’t, in general,” she said. “But although Aerenia has generally abided by the Pact until recently, she never swore to do so. It was established in Maeve’s day, before Aerenia took the throne.”

  “Oh.” I looked at the ground, disheartened. So I’d been handed over to the fae queen with no obligation to obey the law everyone kept referring to. Great. “What exactly happened to Maeve, anyway?” I asked.

  The cat took a swipe at my arm, but her eyes were still half closed, so I was able to jerk away fast enough to avoid another scratch. “Dangerous question,” she said drowsily, tucking her paw back beneath her body. “Don’t ask it again. Aerenia overthrew her, and that’s all you need to know. Which reminds me,” she said, sitting up. “Aerenia said you had a thread on you?”

  “Yes,” I said cautiously. “What does that mean, though?”

  The cat didn’t answer, but focused her yellow eyes on me intently. “Crom Cruach,” she swore under her breath after a moment. Her fur bristled. “She’s right.”

  “About what?” I asked.

  “You’ve got more than one binding on you,” the cat said, looking at me with narrowed eyes. I cursed Tisean and Saorla mentally. Had they thought no one would notice? Well, they might have been right, except for Conall. “It’s faint but present. It could be almost anything, though… Extend your hand.”

  I looked at her warily. Last time someone had said that to me I’d wound up with a knife slashed across my palm… and the cat had already shown a predilection for using her claws. “What are you going to do?”

  “You forget your place here,” the cat snapped, all trace of nonchalance gone from her voice. “Give me your hand. Now.”

  There was enough threat in her tone that I obeyed. She placed her paw on my wrist, then extended her claws, far enough that they just pierced the skin. A leaden sensation traveled up my arm. I couldn’t move away if I tried.

  “Are you here on any sort of mission or assignment from the Rhinelanders or the Septagonal?” she asked. “Speak truth.”

  “No.” I’d spoken before I’d even consciously decided to do so. The back of my neck prickled. What was she doing to me?

  “Hmm.” She was looking at me narrowly, and still had her claws hooked into my wrist. “Have you accepted any gifts, favors, or bargains from any fae creatures here? Speak truth,” she said, the last words more forceful this time.

  A sudden desire to explain about Tisean’s promise to protect me and subsequently return me home bubbled up inside of me. I clamped my jaw shut, fighting it. The cat’s ears flattened. I wouldn’t be able to hold for long, I realized, an edge of panic gripping me. I could not let the Unseelie know about this. But the urge to answer was overwhelming. Gifts, favors, or bargains? “The lady Saorla,” I forced out. I had to satisfy her command to speak the truth somehow. “Last night, before I was presented to Aerenia, she did something to protect me from the cold.” I clenched my jaw again, fighting the desire to continue speaking.

  “A Seelie blessing?” The cat’s whiskers twitched, and some of the intensity left her gaze. “That could account for it… did she ask anything in exchange?”

  With the new question, the desire to elaborate on the last one dissipated. My shoulders dropped in relief. “No.”

  The cat withdrew her claws. Sensation returned to my arm, and I pulled back with a shiver. I looked at her sideways, examining my wrist. Four tiny red pinpricks shone. Apparently she wasn’t close enough in nature to the greater fae creatures for trace amounts of iron to bother her as it had Tisean. “It will fade, then. Your own sorcerers didn’t think to do anything for you against the cold? Careless of them,” she said, shaking off her paw. “I’m surprised that she bothered to speak with you, though. She’s an arrogant creature. Then again, the Seelie do have an odd fondness for mortals.”

  I could have fainted with relief that the interrogation was over. The cat jumped down off the chair. “I’ll take you back to your room,” she said. “You need to rest before tonight, since you’ll be playing prior to the competition’s opening. But we should stop by the kitchens first. When’s the last time you ate?”

  “I don’t need food,” I said shortly. The cat’s tail lashed.

  “You’re not holding onto some hope of leaving this place, are you?” she asked, turning to face me. “Because if so, you should know how foolish that is.”

  “I’m not,” I said, glad that her compulsion to speak truth wasn’t in force. “But if I try to eat anything right now, I’ll probably vomit.”

  “Ah. Nervous stomach?” I nodded. “I’d forgotten how sensitive mortal constitutions can be…” I found it unfair to refer to me as ‘sensitive’ for being shaky after having a sadistic fae queen send bolts of pain through my body, but apparently I was alone in that opinion. “Later, then. Come on.” She padded away, the door opening before her.

  A few hours later, I was once again in the main hall, a place which held some unpleasant memories. I hadn’t gotten any real rest, since the cat had decided to take a nap herself, sprawling out over half the bed, but I’d been left in peace for several hours, which had been a welcome relief. I hadn’t dared search the room for the ‘means of communication’ that Saorla had mentioned, though, not with the cat right there. I wasn’t sure what I would have done even if I had found it. I was certainly not willing to do as she’d implied that I should.

  “Go ahead and get started,” the cat said. She’d led me to a small alcove near the front of the hall, one ringed with red-cushioned seats, then had me pull one of these to the center of the alcove. “You’re just providing background music, but you need to be at your best in any case. Don’t make Aerenia regret accepting you.” Her nose twitched. “There will be fae trickling in within a few minutes. They’ll be curious about you, but word has gotten around that you’re not to be touched. I’ll be nearby.” With that, she bounded out of the alcove.

  “Great,” I muttered, once I was sure she was out of hearing range. Hey, Sam. In a few minutes, deadly fae creatures who haven’t had a shot at a mortal in decades
are going to waltz in here. But you’ll be fine, because you’ve got a cat keeping an eye on things. Oh, and don’t be nervous, because if you are and you hit a sour note because of it, the evil queen of the fairies will kill you. Have fun! Using my annoyance to hold anxiety at bay, I unpacked the cello and, after making sure it was still in tune, began to play. If I ever got out of here, I thought fervently, I was going to have to thank my old teacher for her excessive emphasis on memorization. A feeling of despondency settled over me as it occurred to me just how big of an if that was.

  Fae did indeed begin trickling in shortly thereafter. In the interest of not being scared out of my mind, I kept my gaze on my hand as I played. My teacher used to say this was indicative of lazy practice, but I decided I had more important concerns right then—namely, not fouling any notes just because something terrifying came into my line of sight. I could feel eyes on me as I played, and hear the general murmur of conversation, which grew louder as more fae entered the hall. I kept my head down, playing on. At the end of my fourth piece, a hulking bear-like creature passed very close to me. It stopped and sniffed at me, then snarled, flecks of saliva flying. I jumped out of my chair and almost yelled for the cat, but the bear had already started to lumber away. Heart palpitating, I returned to my seat, grateful I’d been between pieces. I took a few seconds to breathe deeply and get my trembling hands under control, then launched into another score. Reluctantly, I decided I’d better keep an eye on my surroundings after all; I couldn’t afford to be surprised like that at an inopportune time, or I was going to get killed. I groaned under my breath, feeling a fresh surge of fury for Dietrich, Mitchell and Isana—how could they expect me to do this? How could anyone?

  Three pieces later, I caught sight of Mitchell, who was chatting almost amiably with a Sidhe woman, though there was a hint of wariness in both their postures. Thomas was standing nearby, though he was glowering at nothing in particular, and—glowering? I straightened. Isana had released her hold on him?

  Thomas glanced over my way, almost as if he’d felt my gaze. His eyes widened, and he sidled out of Mitchell’s line of sight, then bolted over to me.

  “Sam—thank goodness—” he said, then stopped dead, looking at the collar. A sickened expression passed over his face. He swallowed. “They haven’t hurt you, have they?”

  I saw Mitchell glance over at us, then start to make his way over. We didn’t have much time. “Thomas, listen to me,” I said urgently, just over the cello. “You have to get out of this contest. It’s going to be a bloodbath.”

  He hesitated. “I… Sam, I can’t. I have to help Mitchell finish this.” I stared. “They’ve… they’ve explained a bit more to me. We can’t let Dietrich fail. I… I shouldn’t have even done what I did, with you and the shuck.” He looked away. “I’m sorry.”

  I looked at him in pure disbelief. “Are you still enthralled, or something?” I demanded. He shook his head, looking at the ground. I continued playing, my tempo increasing with agitation. “So you’re going to leave me here to die at Aerenia’s hands, then go get yourself killed in a contest that has nothing to do with you.”

  “The results have everything to do with me, to do with everyone,” he said urgently. “I can’t tell you more, but—”

  Fury boiled inside of me. “That’s right. You can’t tell me. It’s fine, Thomas. I can handle myself.”

  “Sam, we might still be able to help you, but you’ve got to trust—”

  “Trust? After everything that’s happened, you actually expect me to—”

  “Thomas,” said Mitchell gently as he reached us. He put a hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “We discussed this. You can’t speak with her like this.”

  Thomas wrenched himself away, starting to speak, but at that moment the cat bounded up. “Will you lot stop distracting my cellist?” she hissed. “I’d think even mortals would know better.”

  Thomas stared at her for a second. “They put you in charge of her?”

  “They did,” the cat said, arching her back. Her hair rose, making her appear much larger. “Do you take issue with that?”

  Thomas looked as if he very much did take issue with that, but he apparently decided it was wiser not to say so, because he abruptly turned away, facing Mitchell. “Once we’re through with this, I am finished,” he said harshly. “With all of it.”

  “Thomas—”

  “No. Just—no.” With that, he turned away, stalking through the crowd. Mitchell watched him go, but I couldn’t read his expression from the angle I was at. He exhaled slowly, then turned back to me. “I didn’t know about the iall na braighdeanas,” he said, voice low. “I wouldn’t have agreed to that. I’m sorry.”

  “You—!” That’s what he felt the need to apologize for? I clamped my jaw shut, because if I let myself say one more word, I was going to start shouting. I battled the urge to throw something at him—like a certain bulky musical instrument, for instance—and returned my full attention to playing. I kept my gaze down, seething, as he walked away.

  “Idiots,” the cat muttered. I nodded in wholehearted agreement. She paced over to me, sitting down at my feet to watch the crowd. After a moment, she said, “You like him, don’t you?”

  “What?” I snapped, still fighting a strong desire to throw something. “Mitchell?”

  “The other one,” the cat said, her whiskers twitching. “Thomas, isn’t it?”

  I snorted. “You’ve been out of the mortal world longer than I thought, if that’s what you think liking someone looks like.”

  “I don’t think so,” the cat said with a little chuckle. “You were angry at Mitchell, but that was betrayal I saw on your face when you were speaking to his apprentice. You wouldn’t be able summon up that kind of feeling toward someone you didn’t care about.”

  This struck me as an annoyingly insightful comment. I couldn’t believe I was being heckled about this by a cat. “I thought you said I shouldn’t be distracted right now,” I muttered.

  The cat chuckled again, then paused. “You know you’re never going to see him again, don’t you?” My stomach twisted. “Even if he survives the competition, he’s not likely to ever come back to this Court.”

  I couldn’t make myself answer that. I swallowed, then forced my mind away from that very likely truth. I had a chance, I reminded myself fiercely. In Tisean and his company, I had a chance. “Where were you earlier?” I asked, in a weak attempt to change the subject. “You know some kind of bear-thing was thinking about eating me, right?”

  “Bugbear,” the cat corrected me, licking her paw. “And he wouldn’t have eaten you. Can you imagine how annoyed Aerenia would be if someone made that kind of mess on a day like today?” With that, she stood and sauntered off, weaving between the feet of the fae. I caught a glimpse of Aerenia mingling among the other fae, and I looked away quickly.

  A few minutes later, a deep bell tolled, and I looked up to see Conall standing on the dais, having just struck the large silver bell behind the throne. Aerenia stood beside him, holding a basket filled with what looked like glass orbs. I took my cue and faded out of the piece I was playing into silence, laying the cello in its case.

  “Competitors come forward,” said Conall. About twenty people and assorted creatures separated themselves from the crowd, organizing themselves into groups as they approached the dais. I caught Isana’s gaze briefly before she turned away, wearing a pained look. I narrowed my eyes, then looked at the other competitors. There were five teams, and though I couldn’t tell by simple observation, it looked like Dietrich’s was the only one that included mortals. The others all had non-humanoids; Tisean’s had the wulver, of course, but another had a huge green troll-like creature, and a third had a large reddish canine with a broad tail and truly impressive teeth.

  “The time has come,” Aerenia said. She wasn’t raising her voice, but in the silence of the hall, it hardly mattered. She stepped forward, then flung the orbs in the basket into the air. I flinched, expecting the sound
of shattering glass, but the orbs hung gracefully in the air like soap bubbles. There were ten total; five were roughly the size of apples, and the remainder were about as large as basketballs. The five larger orbs gravitated toward each other to the center of the room, while each of the smaller ones settled above one of the groups of competitors. As one, all ten gave a quick flash of light. I looked to the larger orbs; each one now held an image of one of the groups, which shifted slightly in direct correspondence with the faint movement of the smaller orbs.

  “Beneath the lowest dungeons of the Court,” Aerenia began, “there is a labyrinth. Its only exit resides at its center.” She smiled faintly. “In the past, there has been a series of tasks associated with this competition. This has changed. You have but one duty—to reach the center of the labyrinth. Be warned; once you have entered, there can be no surrender. You will reach the center, or you will die. After you have arrived, you will be transported back to this room. Survivors will be granted a boon according to tradition, and the first to arrive will be declared the winner.” Her smile took an unpleasant edge. “I trust there will be enough challenges within the confines of the maze to make the experience… memorable.” She waved one hand, and at that moment, there was a low rumbling sound. At the feet of the competitors, the floor began to move. Thomas took a nervous step back before Mitchell motioned for him to be still. Before our eyes, a huge circle formed in the marble, depressions and ridges taking shape. It settled, and I realized what I was looking at; an impossibly complicated maze, etched into the floor.

  The cat bounded up to me. “Stand up,” she hissed. “I can’t see.” I obeyed, and she leapt onto my shoulder, balancing there precariously.

  “Have you all made ready?” Everyone nodded. Some, like Dietrich, were standing with firm resolve and confidence, but others looked rather ill. “Very well.” She made a sharp motion, and flames erupted around each group. I gasped as the fires formed five domes, then condensed to impossibly small points and vanished. There was no sign of the competitors. My heart skipped a beat, and startled murmurs broke out among the crowd; had she killed them?