by Leah Cutter
Brett slashed through her again, his nails scratching against the back of the chair, tearing through the ugly blue-and-green upholstery.
“You’re getting old, O’onakie,” the woman taunted. “Sloppy. Did you really think I’d be waiting here like a sitting duck?”
Brett turned around. Behind him, on the shelf in front of the TV, sat a brilliant purple gem. It contained enough of the woman’s essence to fool him into thinking she was in the room. He turned and kicked over the chair, destroying the magical projection.
A cornhusk doll slid off the seat, onto the floor. It had been magically enchanted. That was why when he’d looked through her flesh he’d still seen her light.
“Clever,” Brett murmured, picking up the doll. She wouldn’t be able to escape him now. The doll had too much of her essence. He’d be able to track her anywhere. “You know your mistake,” he said, holding up the doll to the gem.
The woman’s merry laughter rang through the room. “I don’t fear you. You bring a gentler death than the one that’s facing me.”
Brett nodded. “Before this, yes. Now?”
The woman laughed again. “Find me if you can, demon.”
Brett brought the cornhusk doll up to his nose. It was well made, from dried husks tied together and folded down into a rounded skirt, the cob making up the doll’s torso, with a wooden head and arms stuck into it. The head had curls from the woman painstakingly glued to it, her features painted on it cleverly. More cornhusk covered the arms, gathered around the bicep and wrist like an old-fashioned dress.
The doll smelled strongly of the flat plains of Iowa, from where it had come, the long hot summer days, the overlay of diesel fuel from the nearby interstate. He could almost hear the song of the cicadas that had encouraged the stalk to grow.
Brett turned in a circle, his nose raised to the air, scenting. It didn’t take him long to unravel the winds, where she’d come from and where she’d gone.
She was north of town, close to the water. It wouldn’t take him long to get there.
As Brett took a step away from the jeweled light, doll in hand, a shock ran through him.
Was this a trick? Did the woman have other magic embedded in the doll so he couldn’t leave the room with it?
No. This was different. Warmth infused Brett.
He walked back and gave the purple jewel a warm smile. “I will come for you. Never doubt it. But first, I must go claim my mate.”
Nora had put the ring on. She would seek him out, now. He had thought she’d fight longer, that perhaps she’d be the first one capable of refusing.
He’d been wrong. She was his. As he’d always planned.
* * *
Cornelius waited grimly beside Thirza in the cooling night. The bonfire had been quickly quenched and the royals and servants escorted back inside the safety of the kingdom. The moonlight shone down more harshly on the water, waiting in judgment.
How had Adele survived? She’d obviously been living in the Redwood Fairy Kingdom for some time. She wasn’t queen there, however. Only a few of the troop of fairies had followed her. The others looked to the unnaturally tall southerner, the one who was so dark—Garung, if Cornelius remembered correctly.
And another kingdom of fairies hot on their trail? They’d flown for days, he was certain.
Was he going to regret granting them safety?
A hooting call made Cornelius strain his eyes, looking across the distance, trying to see who was approaching.
A group of more than twenty fairies flew closer. The warriors had broad chests and were more muscled than Cornelius’ own. Even the royals and servants who flew with them looked stronger than the ones in his court.
They also looked dirt poor. The leaves of the trees and the flowers of the fields covered them, not actual clothes. Their feet were bare, their arms scratched and dirty.
These fairies didn’t live underground, Cornelius realized with a start.
However, they didn’t automatically attack his own warriors. Maybe they could be reasoned with.
“Who is your king?” demanded one of the warriors.
Thirza flew closer to respond. “Who wants to know?” she countered.
Cornelius was impressed by how arrogant and casual she sounded, as if she faced down strange troops of warriors all the time.
“King Ramit of the Forest Kingdom,” the warrior proclaimed.
A very dark-skinned fairy floated closer. He didn’t look like a king, despite how tall he seemed. He wore a vest woven from dried leaves, and a kilt-like skirt made from petals and vines. Black hair curled around his head like a mane. Like the rest of the troop, his skin was scratched and his feet were bare.
“What does this king want?” Cornelius asked. Thirza glared at him, but he didn’t care. It was better for the leaders to talk with each other.
“That you return their prisoners to them,” the dark-skinned fairy replied.
“Why would I do that?” Cornelius asked, perplexed. Fairies didn’t normally take prisoners. They demanded tribute from a losing side. It just wasn’t economical to try to imprison fairies—they were too tough, too hard to keep control of. Unless these prisoners were to be used for ransom?
What had Adele gotten herself into?
“Because if you don’t, our kingdom will declare war on yours. And we’ll win,” the dark-skinned fairy said.
Cornelius couldn’t contain his snort of derision. “While I’m sure your warriors are fierce of heart and brave of wing, you’re ill equipped to be attacking a kingdom as well fortified as mine.”
“You are the king?” the dark-skinned fairy asked.
“I lead the great Oregon kingdom, yes,” Cornelius said, bowing his head. “You may call me Cornelius.”
“I am called King Ramit,” the dark-skinned fairy said. “King of the Forest Fairy Kingdom.”
Cornelius pressed his lips together. Should he have lied? Claimed to be king? It didn’t matter. This Forest Fairy Kingdom was poor. His warriors with their superior weapons should be able to defeat them soundly.
“What kingdom do your prisoners hail from?” Cornelius asked. He wasn’t about to turn them over to this King Ramit. But he was curious where Adele had been hiding.
“The Southern Kingdom, also known as the Redwood Forest Kingdom, also occasionally referred to as the Silicon Kingdom, in the fashion of the humans.” the king sneered. “Where we were from originally, until we split off.”
Cornelius blinked and leaned back further on his wings. The Southern Kingdom had split? What had happened? How weak were the royals there to allow such a thing? This Ramit was obviously some sort of royal, as were many in the troop behind him.
“I am not giving you the prisoners,” Cornelius declared. He held up his hand when Ramit growled. “I have not, however, said that I would grant them sanctuary. I need to interrogate them. Perhaps we will barter with you for them. Perhaps we will send them on their way. Or perhaps we will let them stay.”
Or perhaps I’ll have Bascom and Thirza come and wipe you out of the sky, chase you back to the woods where you belong.
“We will camp here, on your borders,” King Ramit told Cornelius. “But we won’t wait too long. There are many more warriors who follow us from our kingdom. They won’t take it kindly if we don’t return to our kingdom.”
Cornelius nodded. That made sense. His warriors would come looking for him if he’d led a troop out and didn’t return.
“I will give you our answer as soon as I’m able,” Cornelius promised.
It was a promise he actually intended to keep. Though chances were, they wouldn’t like his response.
* * *
Kostya sat trembling in the tall grass outside the human house that hid the entrance to the underground fairy kingdom. The night had grown uncomfortably cold, and the moon shone down like a bane on the earth. He longed for his safe, dark tunnels, packed with the comfort of things.
Queen Adele? Still alive? He’d thought she was d
ead. Her death had sustained him through his own trials, through the skin-weaver’s magic, through the painful recovery.
Through the long journey from the dwarven kingdom back to the Oregon coast.
How could she still be alive?
She wasn’t part of the Greater Oregon Fairy Kingdom. She’d come from some other kingdom, traveling with a group of royals. It had almost looked as though she was a prisoner as she’d been escorted into the kingdom, warriors on all sides of her.
It took many minutes before Kostya could calm his breathing. He couldn’t over react. He couldn’t tear into the underground kingdom and go after her, tear her apart with his own two hands.
Patience. His plans would come to fruition. She’d be dead along with all the others. He would have to include her presence in his next report to the dwarven king.
She would be part of his vengeance, though.
* * *
Pain tore into Nora as she slipped the cold, slippery, hard ring onto her finger. Nails pounded into her eyes, her skull. She wrapped the pain around a splinter of herself, tearing it away. It hurt to move apart like that. It was worse than the time she’d loaned Dale her magic, pulling it out of herself.
Nora had to split herself into pieces. It was the only way to keep her soul alive.
Her tongue kept moving. Nora let go of her eyes. It hurt too much to see Dale’s shocked expression. She shuddered deep inside at how pale her mom looked.
Part of her was still there, in her room, with her family. It talked back to her mom, to Dale.
That part of her would direct her body, propel it to him.
However, that part of her split apart by the pain—it remained separate. She wove a wall between the tiny, real part of her and the rest, catching at light and knots, crocheted chains and knitted loops.
Nora knew she couldn’t last. The other part was too strong. He’d enspelled too much of her. She’d lose herself fully in a day, maybe two, this separate section of her sinking into the morass of the rest that no longer had its own will.
Did Brett realize she could split herself like this? She hadn’t known it was possible.
If only Mrs. Wentworth had been able to get to her sooner! If only someone had been able to teach her. Then she wouldn’t have fallen for his trap. Would have destroyed the ring.
Wouldn’t have allowed Brett close in the first place.
Dale had been right.
Nora glanced out through her body’s eyes. The sheets of magic that always sparkled in the air had disappeared. She, the splinter, could sense them, but the will-less part no longer had access to them.
What did that mean? Why had they disappeared?
Nora didn’t try to interfere with the single track her brain was fixated on—getting to Brett as fast as she could. She didn’t know what he was, except some sort of monster who had killed her teachers and her grandparents, who was out to kill her soul while leaving her body alive.
She just hoped she’d survive the encounter.
* * *
Adele couldn’t believe how much her kingdom had changed in five short summers. The lights didn’t stretch across the sky as far as they once did. Even at night, there should have been more fairy lights twinkling and imitating stars.
Of course, the village where the servants lived was now neat and clean and ordered. The thatched roofs had been repaired, the lanes were clean, the wooden houses all freshly painted.
However, it didn’t stretch out as far as it once did. Abandoned houses lay along the farthest edges. How many fairies remained?
Cornelius wouldn’t have allowed them to slack off. All Adele had heard as queen was a bunch of excuses. Cornelius wouldn’t have tolerated that.
The graveyard made Adele feel gray. It had been overflowing five years before. Now, it was threatening to take over the entire kingdom.
The people were dying. Her people. And Cornelius had done nothing to stop it.
It didn’t surprise Adele that the warriors directed them to the barracks next to the palace, then to the mess hall. The wooden benches were plain, but solid and well made. Long tables lined the room, enough for fifty warriors to sit at and eat. All the joints had been magically enhanced, so the occasional brawl didn’t destroy the furniture.
It was the perfect place to put prisoners. She’d done the same the first time Garung and his troop had visited, until she’d been able to determine that they were friendly and not an advance war party.
Garung and the others looked around eagerly. That snake Pravir wrinkled his nose and made some disparaging remark that Adele couldn’t hear. Sree giggled, but Titir just looked thoughtful.
Adele didn’t try to talk with any of the warriors, though she knew several of them by name. They followed another leader now. She didn’t want to test their loyalty.
Not yet.
Adele sat down next to Garung, but he obviously didn’t feel like talking to her, or to anyone. He sat like the rest of them, exhausted after three long days of constant flight, wings drooping as they rested.
They’d lost four students during their mad rush up the coast, weaker fliers who hadn’t been able to keep up, who’d fallen behind.
Adele hadn’t heard fairies die in battle for such a long time. She’d forgotten how loudly they screamed.
The smell of thick stew made from winter berries and fresh greens wafted over the dining hall. At least Adele’s stomach wasn’t the only one growling.
They all fell eagerly into the simple food. It wasn’t enchanted or enhanced in any way. It didn’t have to be: They were starving and would have eaten most anything. Adele slurped her stew with the rest of them, its simple warmth soothing her soul.
Before Adele finished, Thirza, Bascom’s second in command, flew into the room and straight to her.
“Cornelius wants to see you,” she said. “Come. Now.”
Adele blinked, surprised. She’d assumed the first thing that Cornelius would have done was get himself declared as king.
After giving Garung a nod, reassuring him that she’d be fine, Adele easily rose from the bench. She was suddenly no longer tired, no longer weak and fading.
There was no king.
Which meant that she was still Queen.
* * *
Brett waited outside, standing on the driveway of his house. The cornhusk doll lay tucked against his chest, a reminder of future duties, future kills. Winds danced around him, carrying the many scents of the night—the cooling blacktop, the burnt oil from the fish-and-chips stand two blocks away, the salty smell of the ocean below it all.
Nora’s truck came closer. Brett had tuned the engine specifically so that he could track it easily. Eagerly, he waited while she parked and turned off the engine.
However, Nora paused when she first got out of the truck, instead of sliding sweetly through the night, coming directly to him.
Brett beckoned to her and she flowed into his arms, kissing him with a passion that he’d never experienced from her before.
“I needed to see you,” Nora murmured. “I’m glad you were waiting for me.”
Brett eased the Maker away, holding her at arms’ length so he could really look at her. He’d been fooled once that night. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.
Nora’s warm hearth fire was encased in his cool silver, as he’d expected. Her will was no longer her own. She was his, completely and totally.
Yet—still Brett hesitated. He drew Nora closer and kissed her again, letting his spirit overflow hers, holding her body and soul.
She paused, then accepted him. Totally, completely.
Brett didn’t like that split second of hesitation. He couldn’t see it, couldn’t smell it or identify it. Couldn’t even taste it as he licked at her spirit.
Something still held her back.
“Oh, my eager bride,” Brett chuckled as Nora reached for him again after he pulled back. “My one true mate. It took so long for you to come to me.”
“I didn�
�t mean to make you wait,” Nora assured him. Her eyes held the promise of starlight and cool moonbeams.
“No, it was your strength that attracted me. That same strength held me away,” Brett told her.
“And now?” Nora asked flirtatiously, raising her lips again.
It was Brett who hesitated this time. As far as he could tell, Nora was completely enspelled. In all his centuries, he’d never heard of a mate being able to resist.
But Nora wasn’t singular, had never been just on her own. She had a twin who held her to this world.
Brett couldn’t see the connection. He’d never been human. However, that must be what was holding her back, that separate entity that was still a part of her.
“Now, we must wait until I make everything perfect. Your Bridal bed,” Brett promised her with another deep kiss.
It would only take a day Brett to remove this one last thread holding Nora back. Killing Dale would be easy enough. He’d never really liked the boy.
* * *
Cornelius didn’t try to hide his agitation. He knew Adele would sense it, no matter how he stilled his wings and tried to calm his eyes. She was a warrior, trained to find weaknesses in her prey.
And Cornelius had no doubt that Adele considered him prey.
He’d never had himself declared king. Though the fairies had never found Adele’s body, they’d still declared her dead and had a funeral for her.
But she could still be considered the queen.
Cornelius walked up and down the galley where he’d told Thirza to bring Adele. He found the sea-green walls soothing, particularly when matched with the pale, robin’s-egg blue walls. Adele had never approved of Imogene’s color schemes for the palace. Cornelius had always privately thought it was because she was a warrior, and unable to appreciate the finer aspects of the design.
Adele looked thinner than Cornelius remembered. He wasn’t about to joke about how she more closely resembled a royal, now. Her clockwork wings were in good repair, though her clothing was old-fashioned, dirty and stained with blood. She still wore her dark hair short, in warrior fashion, fanned out around her face.
Cornelius merely bowed his head this time when Adele came in the room.
