Summer Prince

by Juliana Haygert

  “Hm, if that’s true, the fae won’t last long,” the kitsune added.

  I sucked in a sharp breath. The kitsune was right. If the ogres had gotten their hands on a pure-blooded fae, then the fae didn’t have much time.

  Which meant I also didn’t have much time.

  I resumed walking. Once I was out of the marketplace, I pulled the hood of my cloak away from my face and started running.

  I had to get to the ogres’ keep before they ate the fae.

  3

  Varian

  I woke up in total darkness. It took my eyes a few moments before they adjusted to the dark and I could make out certain shapes—a wooden cot where I was seated, rough stone walls surrounding me, and a big metal door with an opening at the top where a little flickering light streamed in.

  I shot up and instantly sat down as a wave of dizziness assaulted me. I pressed a hand over my head and felt a small egg on the back. Oh, blaze, now I remembered. The ogres … they had gotten me. Somehow, I had hit my head, and I was now in what looked like a dungeon.

  Slowly, I tried standing again and went to the door. Obviously, the cell had been designed to hold creatures much larger than me, because the cot could fit three of me, and the door was at least twice my height, its opening too far for me to even reach it.

  Still disoriented and somewhat tired, I rested my back against the metal door.

  What the blaze did I do now?

  I couldn’t stay here. I called my magic, intent on fighting my way out of this place. I turned my palms up and a tiny spark of fire flickered in my hands before dying out.

  The door opened and I scurried to the other side of the cell, trying once more to call my magic in vain.

  A monster filled the door. He huffed at me, said something I couldn’t understand, and then pushed a jug in my direction. I clenched my fists and every cell in my body screamed for me to do something. To attack him. To blast him with my fire and run, but my fire wouldn’t obey me. I couldn’t even hold on to it.

  A moment later, the ogre left and locked the door again.

  I gritted my teeth and extended my hand in front of me, calling my fire. Again, it flickered in my palm, but faded away a second later.

  A new voice rang from the door.

  I looked up at the dark shape standing at the door’s opening. “What did you say?”

  “I don’t know fae,” the shape said one of the many human languages. “Can you understand me now?”

  “I can,” I said, in broken English. I had learned it long ago and hadn't used it in decades. “What did you mean, it won’t work?”

  “Your magic won’t work in here because the ogres have the dungeon warded against magic.”

  Oh, blaze, there went my plan. Then maybe he could help me. “Who are you?”

  The shape laughed, the sound muffled. “You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into.”

  At first, I thought all I saw was a dark silhouette because of the faint light coming from its back, but when the shape evaporated, becoming smoke and swirling in front of the opening before floating away, I shook my head.

  Blazing sun, I must have hit my head harder than I thought.

  A hand appeared in the opening, as if waving the smoke away.

  “Ugh, I hate these liches,” a new voice said. A woman. She held on to the bars of the opening, a tattoo of a star on top of her right hand, and glanced down at me. “Are you okay in there?”

  “Hm, y-yes.” I frowned. “What’s a lich?”

  “These shadow beings,” she said, sounding normal. “They lurk in the shadows and prey on the weak.”

  That was when I realized she was speaking my language. “You’re fae?”

  “No, not even close.” A hood covered most of her head, though I could see some of her blond curls sneaking from underneath it. “Never mind the liches. I heard the ogres captured you yesterday.” She let out a long sigh. “I’m glad they haven't eaten you yet.”

  I gaped at her form. “Eaten me?”

  “Yeah, most ogres are cannibals. Not as bad as the trolls, though.” She waved her star tattoo. “Okay, tell me, do you have your medallion with you?”

  I frowned. How did she know about the medallions? “Hm, if I had it with me, I wouldn’t be here.”

  She cursed under her breath. “So you’re stuck here?” she asked, though it sounded rhetorical. “Then you’re of no use to me.”

  She let go of the bars of the opening and jumped down.

  “Wait!” I called, going to the door. I rested my hands on the metal. “Hey, come back,” I shouted, suddenly fearing she was going to leave … and leave me here. “Are you there?”

  No one answered me.

  Scorching sun. Something I had never felt before bloomed in my chest, and I sat down on the cold stone floor.

  It was hopeless.

  4

  Layla

  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. I had been so excited with the possibilities … of course the fae didn’t have the damn medallion. If he did, he wouldn’t be here, would he? No one ended up in this land willingly. And if they did, it was only for three seconds.

  I was so stupid.

  Still, a foreign feeling tugged at my chest. Should I have saved him anyway? He was locked in those dungeons, all alone and probably being prepared to be served as a fresh meal to those horrible ogres. And I had left him there to die.

  No, the fae was not my concern. I had too many problems as it was. I didn’t need to add to the pile, especially not with a stranger.

  Putting those thoughts aside, I let out a long sigh and glanced at the darkening sky as I walked back to my cottage. The two suns hovered on the horizon; one of them had already disappeared behind the trees.

  I remember the first time I had seen the two suns. I had been in awe and disbelief. The suns weren’t the same size. One was much larger than the other, and more orange than yellow … and hotter. Though this place sometimes reminded me of a muddy swamp, it was almost always too hot for my taste.

  Today had not been an exception. It had been a scorching day and wearing this heavy cloak didn’t help, but the “costume” helped my reputation. The reputation it had taken me a long while to build. The reputation that had kept me alive longer than I had dared hope.

  I veered off the main road onto a less traveled path through the forest, one that would take me closer to my hidden cottage.

  I weaved through the trees and walked the path for about fifty yards, then my steps faltered. Coming in the opposite direction was Haijen, the evil troll. His bluish skin had a permanent sick-hue, and his abnormally long limbs were strong and corded with muscles and dark veins. Thick tusks curled from his mouth up to his cheeks, almost as long as his pointed ears. He wore a thick leather skirt and a belt where a handful of crude axes hung.

  Fear snaked around my bones. I'd had a run in with this troll before, long ago, when I first arrived in this cursed land. Lost, I ended up in his hideout, or whatever he called that corner where he lived. I didn’t know it was his land, I didn’t know anything about trolls, and I surely didn’t know they were greedy, possessive, deadly predators.

  The troll had attacked me and I barely escaped intact. As I fled, he promised that the next time I crossed his path, he would put me out of my misery.

  I believed him.

  And he was true to his word. I had encountered him a couple of times before and he had immediately charged me. I had run from him until he gave up the chase.

  So, this time, before he saw me, I hopped off the path and hid behind a tree. I even slowed my breathing and put a magic blanket over me, so he wouldn’t hear or smell me.

  His footsteps grew louder and soon I heard more. The sounds of metal clanking together. I couldn’t help myself and spied around the tree.

  The fear I felt was only eclipsed by the protectiveness that surged up inside me at the sight of his slave trudging along behind him, the chains around her wrists and ankles bruisin
g her fair skin.

  The young female fae from the marketplace.

  Her head was low and her shoulders sagged, as if she had already given up living, but wasn’t allowed to die.

  If only I could save her …

  If only I could protect her …

  But I could barely protect myself, and I certainly wasn’t saved. I was just surviving.

  I stayed crouched behind the tree as the troll and his slave walked past me on the path, going back to his hideout, for sure.

  And I stayed there for a long time, feeling like the worst coward of this realm and all of the other realms.

  5

  Varian

  I knew I was dreaming, but it didn’t really feel like a dream.

  I stood in front of one of the large windows at the Summer Palace, the Sun City shining bright behind the inner walls under the scorching sun.

  My favorite place in the entire Wyth. My home.

  I turned around and found myself staring at a low and wide beige bed, the soft yellow covers ruffled and folded at the foot of the bed. And on the other side, propped by many golden pillows, was my mother.

  My heart stopped.

  My mother’s hair, usually tight into a neat bun at the nape of her neck, was long and loose, like a black curtain around her shoulders. Her dark skin was ashen, her hazel eyes dull and sunken, and her lips were parched.

  She looked sick.

  Had Sanna’s magic hurt her so badly that she still hadn’t healed?

  “Mother,” I called her, walking to her bedside.

  But she didn’t look at me, she didn’t acknowledge me.

  Instead, she inhaled a deep breath and rasped, “Henia.”

  The double doors at the other side opened, but instead of my mother’s handmaiden, Mahaeru entered, one of the Wyth goddesses.

  Her long, black hair flowed behind her as if a nonexistent breeze whipped it back as she strode toward my mother’s bed.

  My mother’s back straightened. “Mahaeru, what are you doing here?”

  The goddess halted at the foot of my mother’s bed. “Queen Natsia, I’m here to check on you.” The goddess’s eyes scanned my mother’s body. “How are you managing the poison today?”

  I gaped at them. “Poison? What the blaze?”

  “The same.” My mother lay back on the pillows. “It’s slowly spreading, taking me inch by inch.”

  “And the medicine I brought yesterday?”

  “Helps with the pain,” my mother said. “And a little with my energy. But nothing can stop the poison. We’ve called all the healers from Wyth, and they all said the same. A magic poison can only be—“

  “Cured by the witch who spelled it, or another equally powerful witch.” The goddess gave one short nod. “With Sanna dead, we can’t find any other. Either there’s no other witch in Wyth, or they all went into hiding.”

  “Which means it won’t take long for the poison to take me.”

  “But we can delay it.” The goddess pointed to the glass on the bedside table. “Keep drinking the medicine and it should delay the poison.”

  “Delay it, not stop it.” My mother sighed. “It’s fine. I just have to last until we find my son.” She was looking for me? I mean, I knew she probably would, but with this poison—something that I was having trouble getting my head around—she should be focusing on her health, not on me. “I’ve sent my most trusted soldiers into countless realms after Varian, but no one has found him yet.”

  The goddess, who always seemed stoic and sometimes harsh, let out a long breath. “I’ve been trying too, but I can’t find him either.”

  My mother’s hands clenched around the blanket covering her legs. “We need to find him, Mahaeru. If we don’t, there will be no heir to take my place when I’m gone. And I’m afraid I’ll be going sooner than all of us thought.”

  No, no, no. What in the scorching heat was she talking about? I pressed a hand to my forehead. This was too much. Magic poison? Dying? Heir?

  “Queen Natsia, there’s more,” Mahaeru started, her voice as solemn as always. “Because of the uncertainty of the future of the Summer Court, unrest has been plaguing the people, and the fae are taking advantage of that.”

  My mother frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “A few southern village magistrates are banding together and trying to create a more organized rebel group. If Prince Varian isn’t back by the time you die, they plan on seizing the throne.”

  What?

  My mother paled more. “No,” she whispered. “My kingdom will fall into chaos. The peace and prosperity my family spent decades building will be undone.”

  “Civil war will certainly start without Varian,” Mahaeru added.

  “We cannot allow that.” My mother pressed a hand to her chest. “Mahaeru, if you can, please, call General Behar for me. We need to stop this mess from taking shape if we can.”

  “Agreed.” Mahaeru nodded. She whipped her head in my direction and her eyes met mine. “Meanwhile, we can only hope Prince Varian finds his away back quickly.”

  With a gasp, I sat up on the cot. I was drenched in sweat, my heartbeat fast, and my breathing came in shallow gasps.

  I knew it hadn’t been just a dream. I had been a vision, an image of a moment that Mahaeru had been able to send to me while I slept.

  I rubbed at my chest, my mind swirling with so much information.

  My mother had been poisoned; Sanna had been killed. Now, an uprising was threatening to divide my kingdom. I shook my head. There was so much in the dark still … how had the fight ended? If Vasant had won and kept the Spring Court for himself, Mahaeru would have found a way to let me know. Because, if that had happened, I was sure Vasant would have turned toward the Summer Court first and immediately launched an attack. Hopefully, Hayley and Ash were now queen and king and at least that problem was resolved.

  I glanced around the cold walls of my dungeon cell, as if one would suddenly melt away and I would be able to run away from here.

  Sadly, I didn’t have that kind of magic.

  Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway and I stood on top of my cot, but even like that I still couldn’t see much from the door’s top opening. A few seconds later, one ugly ogre stopped in front of my door and opened it. Even knowing my magic wouldn’t work in here, I called it. Better to have a few sparks to fight with than nothing at all.

  Three more ogres appeared behind the first one and my shoulders sagged. Maybe I could fight hand to hand against one of them, but four? If only I had my sword with me.

  The first creature yelled something at me in their foreign tongue. When I didn’t move, he and another ogre stepped into my cell and came for me. I took a few steps back and analyzed my chances. They reached for me, and I jumped out of the way. I sprang onto the hard cot and made for the door.

  Three ogres blocked the doorway, but I wouldn’t give up now.

  But before I could do anything, huge hands closed around my shoulders and arms.

  “Hey!” I jerked against the monsters’ grip.

  They ignored me and dragged me from the cell. I thrashed against their hold, but their grip tightened until my body ached. I stopped fighting.

  For now.

  Despite it all, I tried paying attention to where they were taking me, and more importantly to the hallways, doors, and windows we walked by. There wasn’t much to this place. We left the dungeon, which was underground as I suspected, and emerged into a long corridor of gray stone, but a little smoother and lighter than the ones below. The space was wider too and better illuminated with sconces of shimmering torchlight every few feet. I spotted long horizontal openings in the wall, like windows, some with rough curtains, but most with nothing to cover it. Beyond the windows, the two suns were hidden behind clouds, though it didn’t look like it would rain. It was hard to tell what time of day it was.

  The ogres dragged me across a wide room and then under an archway that opened to a round room. In the center was a fur rug—I
didn’t want to know the animal it had belonged to—and around it were several wooden chairs.

  Three of the chairs were occupied: two ogres and someone else.

  A woman with short brown hair and pale skin sat between the monsters. She looked small in the large chair, but she held her back straight like an arrow and her pointed chin high. She wore a brown gown that had seemed put together from several rags and a necklace of long tusks.

  I was pushed to the ground and fell on all fours in front of the chairs. A sudden ray of light blinded me, and I realized a circular window high on the wall, close to the ceiling. I tried raising my hands to cover the peeking sun from my face, but the chains around my wrists were too tight.

  Without losing her composure, the woman hopped down from her chair and walked closer. Her brown eyes never faltered from my gaze as she walked circled me.

  I wanted to ask her who she was, what she was doing here, why she was mixed up with these monsters, but she didn’t look fae—she had no pointed ears—and she probably didn’t speak my language anyway.

  She stopped in front of me. “Strong, aren’t you?”

  I gaped at her. She was speaking my language. “I—“

  “He’ll do,” she said in English to one of the ogres. “It’ll take a couple of days. Just make sure he’s not hurt until then.”

  “Wait.” I pushed up to my feet and took a couple of steps toward her. “What’s going on? Who are you?”

  The ogres’ hands closed around my shoulders and pulled me back.

  “Don’t bother with silly questions, fae,” she said, looking at me from the corner of her eyes as if she was disgusted with me. She had gone back to fae language. “Just be a good boy and rest in your cell. It’ll all end soon.”

  “End? What do you mean?”

  One corner of her lips tugged up. “It’s none of your business.” She waved her hand at me. “You can take him back now,” she said in English.