The Doomsday Trial

by Claire Luana

  “Expanding his power over millions of more souls? Humans, who are helpless against magic and could be controlled and potentially used for his purposes? Yes, I think that’s something Vale Obanstone would be extremely interested in. Your father—” She froze as the sound of heels clicking on marble reached all of our ears at the same time. “Hide!” she hissed, and Orin and I fumbled with our masks, tying them back on. Just in time, for around the corner, spun the Faerie King himself. With none other than Patricia at his side.

  “Ah, Ramona. I’ve been looking for you. We have need of your magic.”

  My hand fumbled for Orin’s invisible one, and I found it at his side, balled into a fist.

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Orin’s beautiful mother curtseyed. Anger lit inside of me at the thought of this beautiful sweet woman being enslaved to that asshole for one-hundred years.

  Patricia gave a fake smile and spun on her stiletto, with Ramona following after the odd pair like a faithful hound. I felt Orin move to follow, and it was all I could do to keep hold of his hand as he moved, towed along in his wake. I couldn’t do anything without risking exposing us to the king, not hold Orin back or hiss at him to stop. All I could do was follow helplessly as we slipped through a set of double doors before the king closed us all in together.

  3

  My heart rate rose rapidly, not from fear of being caught, although that was a very definite risk, but panic that we’d be trapped here, unable to reach Cass on time. It’s not as if we were locked in here, but the chances that a phantom door opening would pass unawares was next to nil.

  I recognized the room we were in immediately. It was much quieter than I remembered with only the five of us in here, but there was no doubt in my mind that this was the room they’d brought us to at the end of the first trial. The room where they’d made us look presentable before parading us in front of the general public. I guess we had been in the Faerie palace, after all.

  One of the mirrors was still there, and it was here where Patricia now stood, gazing at herself with a frown.

  “Come here now,” she barked, and for a second, I wondered who she was talking to.

  As Ramona hurried up beside her, Orin’s hand squeezed mine tighter still. At this rate, it was going to fall off due to restricted blood flow. I shook it a little and Orin lessened his grip.

  “My boobs aren’t perky enough,” Patricia snapped, lifting them an inch or so. It was such a weird comment. Why did anyone care about her chest? “I want to look like a twenty-five-year-old...no…an eighteen-year-old.”

  I almost gave us away by snickering. She might have remarkably wrinkle-free skin for her age, but there was no way she could pass for twenty-five, let alone eighteen.

  “And make them bigger,” she continued. “Just a touch. I don’t want to look like a ridiculous blow-up doll.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ramona replied. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Although I couldn’t hear her speak, her lips were moving as though she was uttering an incantation. As I watched, a purple surge of light surrounded Patricia. Her chest lifted slightly and swelled out, pressing against her suit jacket and making the buttons strain.

  The glow faded, and Ramona’s eyes fluttered open, but Patricia was gazing only at herself. She was grinning like a cat, slyly and full of admiration of her new perky breasts.

  So, she was fake. Well, that was hardly a revelation, but the extent of her fakeness was astounding. Makeup and plastic surgery weren’t enough anymore. She was resorting to magic to maintain her appearance. And the way she was so comfortable here as if this was all so familiar…how long had the Faerie king been indulging her desire for magical alteration?

  “Bravo.” The king clapped his hands and gave Patricia a matching Cheshire cat grin, making me want to puke. In that moment, he reminded me something fierce of his son, Tristam.

  “Make me thinner too.” Patricia turned to the king and returned his smile. “You feed me too well, Vale. I feel like a whale.”

  “Nonsense, nonsense. You have the figure of a supermodel.” What was this? The general meeting of the Patricia appreciation society? Seriously, when had these two become so chummy?

  “True. I’d still like to lose a few inches.” She patted her flat stomach and looked sternly at Orin’s mother.

  Ramona, once again, raised her hands and concentrated them on Patricia’s stomach, which shrunk to almost comically tiny proportions. If Barbie had grown up, this is what she’d look like.

  “My hair.” Patricia turned to the king. “Vale, do you think I went too blonde before?” So Ramona had performed this service for Patricia before.

  “You look perfect as you are, Patricia.“ He walked over to Patricia and kissed her cheek, causing her to giggle like a schoolgirl.

  “I think it should be a shade lighter. Did you know I came in second in a Hollywood’s sexiest presenter’s poll last year? I think with your help and your slave, I could make first place.”

  Beside me, Orin gripped my hand tighter again, and I could understand why. Patricia was as disgusting as Vale Obanstone. He treated people like shit, and Patricia was no better. God, they deserved each other. Is this what Orin’s mom had to put up with on a daily basis?

  “You.” Patricia snapped at Ramona, even though she was less than three feet away and could hear perfectly well. “Make me blonder, and I want my hair longer.”

  “As you wish,” Ramona gave a respectful little bow and then performed a spell that turned Patricia’s hair almost white. I grinned. I was just thinking, if it were me in Ramona’s place, I’d be itching for a little revenge.

  “Not that blonde,” screeched Patricia. “I look like an old hag with grey hair. Think Marilyn Monroe, not granny chic.”

  Ramona’s eyebrows knotted together at the command. She probably had no idea who Marilyn Monroe was.

  “Do it, slave,” the king added, not even looking towards Ramona. It was like he was speaking to a pet. “Do you not hear her?”

  Ramona nodded then redid the spell; this time, giving Patricia a head of gorgeous pale gold locks.

  Orin’s hand pulled against mine, and I reached out with my other hand and grabbed his wrist, holding him tight. I had no idea what he was thinking, but judging by the direction he was pulling, he was headed towards his mother or would be if I let him. I took it as my cue to get us out of here. If we didn’t leave soon, Cass would wonder where we were, or worse still, would leave without us. This might be my only chance to see her. Plus, if he was trying to get to his mother, we’d end up caught, and I’d never get to see Cass.

  I jerked on Orin’s hand, but he remained steadfastly pulling in the opposite direction. I yanked harder, urging him to move, but he wouldn’t budge. I could understand why he didn’t want to leave his mother with Patricia and the king, but there was nothing we could do to help her. Not right now. Behind us, a door opened. I used the distraction to whisper in Orin’s ear. “Leave her. She’s a strong woman. She’ll be fine.”

  Checking behind me, I saw the servant had left the door open. This was our chance.

  Thankfully, Orin listened to me and surrendered in our game of invisible tug of war.

  We ran to the door and slid through quietly.

  My mind was buzzing as we hurried towards the two huge wooden doors. There were so many things I wanted to say to Orin. I wanted to remind him that getting through this godforsaken race was the best way to help his mother. I wanted to scold him to keep his eyes on the prize like he’d done for me so many times over the last two trials. But most of all, I just wanted to thank him for coming with me when he so badly wanted to stay with his mother. But I couldn’t say any of those things for fear of being overheard. I could only hope he knew how grateful I felt.

  Two guards flanked the wide doors, which were shut tight. We slowed to a stop a few yards from them, and I chewed my lip, wondering what the hell we were going to do now.

  But something miraculous seemed to happen. First, one guard, t
hen the other, started to nod off, their handsome faces dipping towards their chests. Soon, one let out a burst of a snore, the other swaying on his feet.

  “Come on,” came Orin’s hushed whisper. We tiptoed past them holding our breath, and Orin pulled one of the huge doors open. It creaked on its hinges ominously, and we froze, but neither guard woke. We shut it silently behind us.

  I blew out a shaky breath as Orin took my hand again, and we hurried down the wide stone steps in the front of the palace.

  The main gate was flanked by guards, but the tall ornate wrought iron panels were wide open. A bolt of excitement shot through me. We were free in Elfame, nothing but a few city blocks between Cass and me. Free of monsters, free of games, and most importantly, free of Vale Obanstone. No cameras, no Patricia, no guards, or FFR staff. I was practically giddy with the power of the realization. Out here, it was just Orin and me and the night.

  4

  “This way,” Orin spoke, making me jump. I’d gotten used to the silence, but it wasn’t needed out here. Out here we could say whatever we wanted.

  I pulled my mask from my face, ruffling my blonde hair. I wanted to spread my arms wide and spin in circles, Sound of Music style.

  “Put that back on,” the disembodied voice of Orin said. “We’re famous here. Everyone knows who we are. We can’t risk getting caught before we find your sister.”

  Damn. He was right. I had forgotten. Fame was a real hassle. I pulled the mask back over my face, and we set off into the night.

  But at least, we could talk now. “I’m sorry we had to leave your mom,” I said as we crossed a wide thoroughfare. Maybe it was good I had my mask on because I could gawk without feeling out of place. This was my first real glimpse of Elfame, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

  It was like a movie. There were no cars here, no technology. It was late, so the streets were quiet, but I still spotted faeries in all shapes and sizes moving around us—down the street, up in the windows of nearby manor houses, backlit by the purple glow of magical lighting. From what Orin said, King Obanstone’s palace compound sprawled across the northwest end of town, and we were heading southeast towards a more commercial area.

  I heard Orin’s heavy sigh. “I’m glad you did. I was about two seconds away from punching the king of the Seelie Courts, and I can safely say that I’d have been eliminated from the race if I had. You did me a favor.”

  “One more trial, and then it’s over. We only have one more team to defeat. Then you can free her. We’re so close.”

  “I know. I just…it was hard seeing it firsthand…how they treat her. It was easier to imagine that she lived a simple life under the king’s radar. But her magic is unique, and…I was fooling myself.”

  “What does her magic do? Just manipulate appearances?”

  “All faeries have the ability to create glamours, to cast a spell to make something look different than it actually is. But my mother is half elemental, so her connection to the earth and living things makes her able to make those glamours real. To actually manipulate how a person looks. I inherited a little of the gift from her, but she’s much more skilled than I.”

  “So, you could make my boobs, like, as perky as an eighteen-year old’s?” I asked in a valley-girl voice, imitating Patricia.

  “Your boobs are perfect as they are,” Orin responded, and I was glad I was invisible so he couldn’t see the scarlet flush creeping up my cheeks.

  “Thanks,” I managed. “Did it seem like Patricia and the king were really frickin’ cozy?” I whispered, searching for a safe subject that was not my boobs. I craned my head as we passed an incredibly tall faerie that looked like a praying mantis with stick bug legs.

  “Yes,” Orin said. “It was clearly not the first time they did that.”

  “We know Patricia’s involved with the Brotherhood. And your mother thinks the king is too. Maybe they knew each other before the race.”

  “Maybe…” Orin was quiet, and I took that moment to take in some more of the sights around me. Tall light posts carved to look like trees held purple lights in their iron branches, illuminating our path. We passed a green park with a broad circular fountain where tiny fish jumped in and out of the water, their silver bodies glittering like stars. The houses we passed were huge and fancy, with ornate gates and tall white columns and sweeping lawns. Damn, these faeries lived the good life.

  I was jerked backward by the tether of Orin’s hand as he stopped cold. “What?” I asked as I got my footing back under me. “We need to hurry.”

  He started moving again. “Sorry, I just realized something.” His voice sounded strained.

  “What?”

  “What if Patricia and the king did know each other before the race. Through the Brotherhood. What if the race was planned by the Brotherhood? What if this is all a front for their mission?”

  Now it was my turn to stop short. “To merge the two realms?”

  Orin tugged me forward. “Come on, we are already cutting it close.” He was right. We didn’t have long; that was for sure.

  I stumbled along, my mind spinning, moving the disparate pieces that hadn’t seemed to fit together. They still weren’t quite meshing. “I don’t get why they’d want to hold the race. What does it have to do with their goal of combining Earth and Faerwild? I would think the publicity would be bad news for their evil schemes.”

  “I don’t understand it either. I just…it never really made sense to me why after centuries of isolation, the king suddenly decided to expose Faerwild to the humans in such a public way.”

  We reached a corner and stopped, letting a glittering carriage pulled by two black horses trot past. A faerie riding some sort of sinuous lizard passed by the other way, and I let out a little gasp of disbelief.

  “It’s just one more block up and then a few blocks to the left,” Orin said. “The Goddess of the Moon is a well-known theater. I’m assuming they picked it because they knew I would have heard of it.”

  We hurried across the street, back under the canopy of trees lining the street. “Do all faeries live like this? If this is what Earth was being merged with, I don’t know if it would be so bad…”

  “No way,” Orin scoffed. “This is the equivalent of, I don’t know, the richest part of the human world.”

  “Beverly Hills?” I offered.

  “Sure. The area surrounding the palace is prime real estate. The poorer faeries live on the outskirts of the south end of the city in teetering buildings filled with tiny tenements and flats. A couple of families crowded into one room sometimes. It’s hard to find work, hard to find food.”

  I furrowed my brow. “Can’t faeries just magic up everything they need?”

  “No. There are strict laws about what you can and can’t use magic for. And most faeries can’t just create from nothing. It’s easy to go hungry in Elfame.”

  “But, you conjured that sleeping bag back in the Sorcery Trial…”

  “I didn’t create it, I summoned it. I had purchased some supplies I thought I might need, and back up supplies for good measure. I just used magic to transport it to where I was in the race.”

  “And you couldn’t have summoned us some pancakes?”

  Orin let out a little laugh. “I didn’t realize we’d be so short on food. I hadn’t prepared for that. And I couldn’t summon it from someone else, it would be stealing. I could go to prison, especially for doing it so publicly.”

  I contemplated that. I’d been so fixed on getting through the race, that I hadn’t really thought much about faerie society or Orin’s life.

  “Why don’t more faeries just live in the wild, off the land?” I asked.

  “Why don’t humans?” he countered. “You saw it out there. Some do. But it’s dangerous and lonely, and a hard life. Most faeries would rather try to make their living in cities and towns, just like humans.”

  “Where do you live?” I asked.

  “I live with some friends on the outskirts of Elfame. But
if I win that million dollars, I’ll buy my own place.”

  “Did you have a job?”

  “I’m a security guard for a richer fae family. But I was hoping to go to school. Learn a trade, like my father.”

  Huh. Orin’s life sounded a lot like mine, in a weird way. Shit job, shit apartment, struggling to make it amongst a million other faceless people trying to make it. Maybe we had more in common than I’d ever realized. “You do have the security guy death glare down pat,” I offered. “I bet you’re good at your job.”

  “The security guy death glare?” Orin asked.

  “I remember the first time I saw you. You were in your leather jacket, dressed in all black, and when you looked at me, it was like you were trying to shoot laser beams at me with your eyes.”

  “Funny, that’s not how I remember that going. I remember spotting you and thinking that no human had the right to look so beautiful.”

  Orin’s words stunned me, and I swore I felt my heart physically swoon in my chest. I was definitely tongue-tied searching for the appropriate reply. Thankfully, I was spared finding one when Orin went on to say: “Then you saved that stupid girl in the audition and schemed your way into the race, and I knew you were going to be trouble.”

  “I did not scheme my way into the race!” I said indignantly, but my words trailed off as we turned the corner onto a wide square that displayed a stunning marble structure lit from below by purple faerie lights.

  “The Goddess of the Moon,” Orin said softly.

  We hurried across the square towards the theater’s soaring steps and spires, the mosaic flagstones beneath our feet forming a geometric pattern. I pulled my mask off eagerly, baring me to the quiet night. Orin followed suit. We slowed to a stop just shy of the steps.

  “What now?” I asked. I looked around. Was it past midnight? Had we missed her? The square was totally deserted.