Awake

by Riana Lucas

  As we make our way through the dark corridors of the dungeon toward the stairs, I try to formulate some sort of plan. What can I offer the king that no other can? I am the daughter of the seelie queen, the princess of the seelie court. If I can figure out some way to use this to save my friends, I will. I wish I knew what he wanted me for…Then an idea strikes me. Maybe I can get Damien to tell me.

  “I know what you have done,” I say in a soft voice meant for his ears only.

  He jerks a bit, caught off-guard by the fact I have spoken, before he glances at me with an expression of utter arrogance and a smirk on his face. “Exactly what is it you think I have done, Princess?” I blink at the term he uses and, for a moment, am swept away by a long-forgotten memory.

  I was about seven years old, playing in my room with my dolls. I did not have many toys or much time to play with them since, for as long as I can remember, I have been training. Training for what I thought would be the chance to avenge my parents' death.

  On this day, I stayed in the corner, playing quietly and happily by myself. The servant who tended to me when Damien was not around came in the room and began to clean up around me. She did not speak to me or interrupt my game, as usual. We only spoke to one another out of necessity, and I do not know when I first realized this, but I knew the servant hated me. She cast me mean glances and sneered at me when Damien was not around. You would think that as a small child this would bother me, but it did not. Like everything else in my life, this was just the way things were. This day appeared no different. She went about her business, bringing in fresh linens and making the bed, picking up an item or two off the floor, and making sure my washroom had all the necessary items.

  As she finished and began to leave the room, I looked up and noticed the time was later than usual for her to still be with me. Damien should have been back by now. “When will Damien be home?” I asked politely but with a strong, direct voice. I knew at a young age how to make sure I was not ignored.

  She turned and glared at me, as if completely put out by having to answer a child. “He will be home when he is home.”

  She turned to leave, but I stopped her with another question. “What are we having for dinner, then? I am hungry.”

  Again, she gave me a disgusted stare while answering me with an equal amount of abhorrence in her voice, “You will need to wait, Princess.”

  As the words left her mouth, Damien walked in the open door behind her. I remember watching his face cloud over in fury. “You will not ever call her that again!” he snapped.

  The servant whirled around so quickly she almost lost her footing. Her face paled, and her hands began to shake as she tried to explain. “I…I am…so sorry…I didn’t mean…” she began to stammer, but Damien quickly cut her off.

  “Do you understand me?” he demanded in a deadly voice.

  She nodded her head, unable to speak.

  Her response was not enough for Damien, “I said, Do. You. Understand?” Each word was punctuated by a step closer to the servant until he stood almost nose to nose with her.

  “Yes, s…sir. I…I under…stand. It will…n…never ha…happen again,” she whispered, the terror in her voice reflected on her face.

  “Now leave.”

  She scurried around him so fast she almost lost her footing again.

  When Damien turned his gaze on me, his jaw was tight and his eyes narrowed in anger, but I remember not being frightened at all. I was used to seeing him like this in training, and his mood did not faze me. However, his behavior made me curious. I wondered why the servant had gotten in trouble for calling me that. My young mind could not understand the problem. I was also curious at Damien’s anger over such a simple term.

  As I began to open my mouth to voice my questions, he stopped me with a quick shake of his head. “It’s not important. If anyone ever calls you that, you make sure to tell me. Do you understand, Poppy?”

  Still interested, but knowing Damien wouldn’t explain it to me, I simply said yes.

  “Come now. It’s time for dinner.”

  With those words, I put my dolls away and got up to go to dinner.

  No one ever called me princess again, and I had forgotten the incident until this very moment. As I blink out of the memory, I realize we reached the stairs leading out of the dungeon and back into the main castle. My time is running out.

  Narrowing my eyes at him, my anger grows. If my memory is correct, it seems as if everyone knew where I came from but me. “I know who I am,” I say softly.

  His step falters, just barely. Damien's expression remains arrogant when he addresses me again. “You do now, do you? Well, I guess I’m not surprised. That witch of a queen would do anything to get you on her side instead of his. Remember, though, the king is not as sentimental as she is. He isn’t going to show you the same nurturing emotions as she did.”

  I listen to what he says, but nothing makes sense. The words play in my head over and over again. I try to decipher the meaning. The word sentimental in any regard to the king makes no sense at all, but then to use the words parental emotion has me completely confused.

  Damien must comprehend the confusion on my face, because he pulls up short, looking closely at me. My stomach begins to churn as my heart beats faster. I get a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. The expression on Damien’s face now only intensifies this sensation. Suddenly Damien lets out a soft chuckle, and I see an evil glint in his eye.

  “Oh, Poppy. Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He shakes his head as if I were a small child again. Then he begins walking, dragging me beside him up the stairs. “Here I thought you knew everything. Good try, I must say. I almost gave the surprise away, didn’t I? It would’ve spoiled everything.” His voice drips with sarcasm and pure malice.

  A strong sense of dread is starting to surround me, suffocate me. I take a deep breath, feeling the air thicken as the first real shiver of fear works its way up my spine. The fear for my friends had been there since we were first discovered, but this fear is different. Damien knows something I did not, something huge.

  As we reach the top of the stairs, my thoughts are scattered. Once again, I am on high alert, searching for more danger and looking for the possibility of help or escape. The likelihood of an unseelie fae helping us is next to none, and the chance of escape is only slightly higher. However, I cannot give up. Quitting is not in my blood. I was trained to fight until the end.

  All the while, I am replaying Damien’s words over and over again, word for word in my head. What is he talking about? Why would he talk to me about the king? What is going on here? None of what he is saying make sense, but really? Why am I surprised? Not one thing has made sense to me over the last few days. So why should this be anything new? My life used to be so simple. I existed as an unseelie fae, a member of the king’s warrior fae. My job consisted of going on missions for the king, and I was good at it. When home, I trained or hung out with Rho. Simple and perfect.

  Was my life really simple or perfect, though? No. The things that went on in my court disturbed me. Like the way the king reveled in the evil around him. My missions made me uncomfortable, and the only person I cared for or who truly cared for me was Rho, which made me lonely, unhappy, and afraid most of the time. My time at the seelie court made me realize this.

  Actually, no, if I am completely honest with myself, it started before then. I began to realize when I met Reed that things were not what I had always been taught. Understanding and appreciating friendship, depending on someone else, and trusting another not only with my feelings but with my life all started when I met Reed. Then at the seelie court, I began to understand more. I began to understand what a home would feel like, how a court could be run without evil and torture, what a fair ruler looked like and how his or her decisions affected the court. I also found friendship and love. Two things I did not understand at all—and truthfully still do not—but now I desperately want the time and opportunity to understand them.

 
My contemplations are disrupted once again when we come to a stop. I glance up and draw in a deep breath. We are standing outside of the unseelie king’s throne room. The massive doors are even more intimidating than the last time I stood before them. My body is trembling, my palms are sweating, and my head is filled with a faint buzzing noise.

  Damien looks at me again, this time with a triumphant expression upon his angular face. It is the face of a warrior who has faced a battlefield of enemies and defeated them all. All I can do is stare back at him in utter disbelief. I never tricked myself as a child into believing he loved me, but I thought he cared for me. I turned to him for guidance, and I trusted him. I know I came here aware of the truth, but to actually see he is not who I thought leaves me dumbfounded.

  I cannot stop the words as they tumble from my lips: “Growing up, I thought you cared about me.”

  He snorts and rolls his eyes, both actions I have never seen from Damien before “I’ve never cared for you. I did as the king ordered. My mission was to raise you and train you to be as strong as possible. Luckily, you were such a trusting child and a quick study. You did everything I told you and believed every word from my mouth. The first few weeks you were a pest, but I quickly fixed that.”

  “How?”

  “You don’t remember?” He chuckles to himself, not a pleasant sound. “You must have been just a couple of years old. You cried for your mother constantly. You were so annoying. I finally told you she died and if you didn’t stop crying you were going to join her. Shut you right up. After that, you were much better. Your caretakers and servants were hard to come by, though. They all knew who your mother was and hated you so much they wanted to kill you. Keeping you alive proved difficult until the king finally announced his protection over you to the entire court. His decision caused a stir, but no one defies the king, so you were safe.”

  “Why, though? Why would he want me, and why would he protect me? I do not understand what all of this was for. He did not need me, and I have done nothing extraordinary for him. This does not make sense.” I’m aware of the others behind us, listening but still watchful for a possible escape. I wanted to tell Reed and Rho myself, but I cannot help the questions as they come from my lips.

  “Why, that’s the surprise, Poppy. I thought I’d let him tell you, but I can’t resist.” He leans closer as if to tell me a secret. His voice lowers as he whispers mockingly so only I can hear. “Once upon a time, there was a queen and a king. The king wanted the ultimate power over the queen, so he came up with a plan. He sent in a warrior to gain the queen’s trust. When the time was right, the warrior let the king into the queen’s court, no one the wiser. One would think the king would kill the queen and be done with it, but no. This was a scheming and evil king, so instead, he drugged the queen and got her pregnant.”

  The bottom of my stomach drops out as I gasp in disbelief. “Why?” The whispered word slips past my lips involuntarily.

  “I just told you, power. Once we had you in our court, the king had ultimate power over the queen. He could spend eternity torturing her, just for the mere enjoyment of it. She never knew if you were dead or alive. She never knew if the king would hurt you or not. She did whatever he asked of her, and she lived in pure misery, unsure of what happened to you.” He smiled deviously at me then. “When you became older and showed so much promise as a warrior, it was only natural for the king to use you. Knowing the queen would hear the rumors of your possible life and then add to that your fierceness and capabilities as an unseelie fae, well, that proved to be another torment for the king to relish.”

  “Why not end the war, though? Why not take over both courts and rule it all?”

  “Well, you know our king,” he says almost in disgust, but then quickly changes his tone once again. “What’s the fun in that? Everyone would do as he says. There would be no one to fight with, no one to plot against, no one to kill and torture. No, the unseelie fae need the seelie fae for our enjoyment and pleasure. Not to mention the king’s ultimate goal of ruling all the fae in the fairy world. He wanted the queen under his thumb. With that, the king never had to fear true defeat, until you slipped away.”

  At the last part he sneered at me, as if it were my fault I had been kidnapped and nearly killed. If the situation were not so serious, I could almost envision myself rolling my eyes and making a sarcastic remark about the pure lunacy of it all. However, it was serious, and I was about to walk through the double doors of the unseelie king’s throne room and come face to face with my father.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As I walk into the massive throne room, I briefly glance around, noticing that even though everything has changed, nothing here really had. The room remains elegant and regal, every surface covered in cool marble. However, I do notice things I had not noticed before. After being in the seelie court, I can see a much more noticeable darkness to this court. The queen’s vibrant throne room is a direct contrast to the dark and sinister feel of this one. Walking into this place makes goose bumps form on my arms and sends a slight shiver down my spine.

  The king’s throne, still in the center of the room, appears more deadly than before. Vines and branches of dark brown thorns weave and wind their way around each other to form the shape of a chair. They appear brittle and old, as if they would turn to dust upon touching them, but this is one of the many deceits of the unseelie. If you look closely enough, you can see them moving slowly like a snake, breathing and thriving like any living being. The king has spelled them to recognize only him; any other who would dare touch them would be instantly consumed, torn to ribbons.

  King Foxglove is sitting upon his throne, not even bothering to glance over when we enter the room. Damien’s hand tightens on my arm at the lack of recognition. The king holds his head high, completely distracted with giving orders and making threats, surrounded by servants who are mostly female fae. They are all dressed to look more desirable then they usually would, even though the king hardly notices. They are only there to make him look good or run around getting food for him. The guards are all standing around, keeping their post and vigilant of any danger toward the king.

  The guards who disarmed us and brought us here walk to the side of the room, past the doorway. I hear the clink and bang of our weapons falling to the ground, out of our reach and sorely mistreated. Gideon or Thorne, or maybe both, let out a small noise, feeling as frustrated and angry as I do. Once the guards have thrown our weapons on the floor, they turn to face the king, awaiting orders. A few of them cannot help but sneak a peek or two at the female fae, though, lust in their eyes and smiles. I am sickened that I once called this place home.

  There is nothing I can say or do now. Instead, I refocus on the king and what is holding his attention. There are two guards standing directly in front of him, holding a male fae between the two of them. They forced him to the ground so he is bowing at the feet of his king. He is sobbing and babbling, trying to make excuses or apologize for whatever he has done. His words are completely incoherent, but they do not matter. The king is not listening to him anyway, and soon he grows tired of the fae. With a simple wave of his hand, the king motions for the guards to do his bidding. They do by roughly yanking the man to his feet.

  “Kill him,” he says in a bored tone. The guards nod once then turn, dragging the now-screaming fae behind them.

  They pass us and I watch as they move at what feels like a snail's pace. Once they finally leave the room, I glance at the others behind me. Each of them is unusually pale and staring wide-eyed in the same direction I was. These brave and strong warriors have faced many foes and trained for hundreds of hours, but none of them ever actually witnessed the true cruelty of the unseelie king, with the exception of Reed and Rho. But I am still unsure of what they endured here over the past few days; I hope they have just been locked up. The fear on their faces gives me a small glimmer of hope, in this horrid situation, that this may be the case. Now I need to figure out how to keep them from enduring
anything further.

  Damien clears his throat beside me, turning my attention back to the king. I shrink back a bit, hoping not to be caught in his intense glare. Damien may be second-in-command to the king, but he is still only second. He has no right to speak to the king without being spoken to first, and such a tremendous bout of disrespect is not usually tolerated.

  Apparently the king is feeling generous toward Damien, because he only sneers before ignoring him and quickly zeroing in on me. Sadly, my attempts to remain unnoticed do not work. A light enters his eyes as a smile spreads across his face. I inhale sharply, because the expression does not reflect joy or happiness but pure evil and calculation. My body begins to tremble. I try to stop the action by balling up my fists and stiffening my spine, but I am sure he can see and smell my fear. Fear that he thrives on. As much as I knew to fear the king, his wrath has never been focused on me before; it is not something I like. Seeing this now sends a fear through me like none I have ever felt before. I sense the others move closer behind me as if to lend support to each other as well as to me.

  The king notices this as well, because he quirks his eyebrow, followed by a sly smile. “Leave us!” he demands to the room.

  All the fae, servants and guards alike, leave the room, all except for Damien, two guards, and my friends. The two remaining guards close the doors firmly then turn side by side to face the room once again. They both keep their faces blank, but I can tell by their stance they are tense and ready for trouble.

  “So you’ve made some friends?”

  I start at the sound of the king’s voice directed at me. Turning to him once again, I try to remain brave. It feels odd, having not bowed upon entering the room, but I refuse to recognize him as my king. Just as I refuse to show him respect. Instead of complying, I narrow my eyes and raise my chin.