by Kara Jaynes
“A ra-coon,” Geldyn says, and they laugh like he's told a great joke. It takes me a moment to understand. Raccoon. They have a strange accent. “Though she is so thin, she reminds me more of a cat. A scrawny one.” They laugh again, and I twist around, grab a fistful of the elf's long brown hair, and pull hard.
Geldyn hisses in pain and drops me. I scramble to my feet to run, but he's already on me, twisting both my arms behind my back.
“She's a pretty little thing,” Sol says. I get a good look at him. He's shorter than Geldyn, but still taller than me, with golden hair that sticks out in several directions. It looks good, and I can't tell if the look is intentional or natural. “In a half-starved sort of way,” he finishes. Intentional.
I glare at him, and his eyes narrow, looking pensive. “She shows spirit.”
“She also shows magic,” Geldyn says. “I sensed it just a moment ago.”
Rolling my eyes seems the most appropriate response. “Do you think I’d be in this pickle if I could use magic?” I’m glad my voice no longer shakes, though I’m still scared out of my mind.
Geldyn eyes me. “There are no . . . pickles . . . in the vicinity.” The word comes out strong, sounding like pic-kells.
Sol laughs. “Ah, I remember. It’s a human expression. Though I do not fully understand it myself.”
I kick back, my heel connecting with Geldyn’s ankle, and hurt myself. He doesn’t react. “The prince is searching for those who wield enchantment.”
“All right, then,” Sol says. “Go ahead and take her to Miska. I’ll cover the guard.” He winks at me. “And I’ll keep an eye out for more ra-coons.”
And that is it. Geldyn hauls me along, and I am forced to follow or be dragged.
We approach the building's entrance, and I can barely hear our footsteps, my heart is pounding so loudly.
This is it. Lyra's warnings ring in my head. Am I to be abducted and taken to a different world, stars away from this one? Will I ever see Quinn again? I silently thank the heavens Lyra came when she did. She adores Quinn. She will watch over him until I can get back.
But what if I never make it back?
I'm taken through the front doors and into a polished, well-lit room. A few years ago, this building had been run by one of the deadlier gangs of the city. My struggles to survive the harsh reality of Liberty had brought me inside, once. I can see the elves have cleaned the place up substantially since I last visited. I gape as we step into the entryway. It's been remodeled with fresh paint and paneled wood and looks like a photograph out of a Victorian history book. Well, aside from the strange lamps glowing a pale silver. Just enough differences to remind me where I really am and who resides here now.
The elf takes me through the entry and down a hallway that splits four ways. He stops at a door before we go very far and knocks.
It opens with a groan. A slender woman stands in the doorway. Her stern beauty and the points of her ears give her away as an elf.
“I brought another human,” my captor speaks. “I am convinced she wields magic.”
The woman eyes me blandly. “She’s just in time. The prince wants to look at those with potential tonight.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” I say.
They don’t respond. Geldyn steps over the threshold and nudges me forward. I try to stand tall, but I am shaking uncontrollably, fear washing over me in waves. I’ve tried to hide my terror, but I can’t. I’m in enemy territory. How can I escape?
A look of compassion crosses Geldyn’s face as he looks down at me, and I’m stunned. I didn’t think elves were capable of such an emotion. He pats me on the head. “Don’t worry, human,” he says. “Our prince is a just leader. Obey without question, and you’ll be safe.”
I watch him leave the way he came, the door thudding closed with a sense of finality.
“You smell like a garbage can,” the woman says to me. “And your hair is a hopeless tangle. Your clothes are little better than rags.”
I look back at her as coolly as I can manage and cross my arms. “And I’m supposed to care, why?”
Her face shows no expression. “Geldyn says you wield magic.”
“Men have been wrong before.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, but she otherwise shows no emotion. “The prince is looking for humans with magical ability.”
Jaw clenching, I regard her without speaking. I don’t have magic. No human does. But I’m not about to tell this elf that in a small cramped room with no escape. Better wait and see if I can find myself in a more advantageous situation before telling these elves anything.
The silence stretches.
The woman arches a pale eyebrow, her lips twitching in a small smile. “If you have magic,” she says, “you hide it well. I hope you do have it.”
“Geldyn says I do,” I say, “and you act like you don’t know.”
“Some elves can sense the ability in humans more readily than others,” is the calm response. “The prince will be able to tell for certain.”
What should I say in response to her words? There has to be some awful mistake. Enchantment is not real.
Is it?
With a final disdainful sniff at my clothing, the woman motions me to follow her. “I’d have you shower and clean yourself up like the others,” she says, “but we have to go, now.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer.
She leads me out of the room and down the hall I’d come, to another door. The elf unlocks it with a small key, and when it opens, I jerk in surprise when I see four other humans inside the room beyond. It’s a comfortably large room, massive, compared to my cramped apartment. A few wooden chairs are placed throughout the room. Every one of the humans is tidy, their hair braided or brushed, their clothing clean and well made. Probably elven-make, based on the style. They hurry to the door when they see the elf woman, and they all look as frightened as I feel.
“Follow me,” the elf woman commands and continues down the hall, blonde head held high. The humans shuffle out. The three women look terrified, but the boy’s gaze flashes when it alights on Miska. He still obeys, but I understand his look. He’s watching and waiting for an opportunity to fight or escape.
We walk down a hall and reach a flight of stairs. We go up this and then a couple more flights. At this point, I assume we’re in one of the towers that they’d added to the original structure. The floors are cold, polished stone, and the paneled walls gleaming wood. It’s all luxury I could never hope to own, but at the same time, it’s not the staggering riches I would expect to go hand-in-hand with elven royalty.
We finally halt outside a plain wooden door. The elf woman enters alone, leaving the rest of us standing there. I nudge one of the girl’s next to me, making her jump. “What’s going on?” I hiss, but she shakes her head, gaze locked on the ground. I don’t have time to ask anyone else before the blonde female returns. She fixes me with a cold stare as if she knows I’d been whispering. With her strange, pointed ears, she probably did. “All of you, listen to me. When you enter the room, you are to stop at the edge of the carpet and form in a line. No pushing or shoving, and absolutely no speaking, unless you are spoken to first. Is that understood?”
Everyone nods except for me. I stare back with a clenched jaw.
The elf woman studies us, her gaze extra critical when it lands on me, but she gives a single nod. “Very well, then. It is time to meet your prince.”
She opens the door, and we all enter. I position myself next to the young man as we step through the doorway. If he decides to bust out of here, I plan to follow.
5
Stella
I enter a large study, hanging back behind the others. The other humans look around, awe painting their faces. They forget to stand in a line as they shuffle in a cluster, all of them staring at the riches around them, and I don’t correct them. It’s the only act of defiance I can manage at the moment.
The room has an expensive, yet fun
ctional look about it, the furniture polished to a gleam, and a plush rug that starts at the entrance and extends halfway across the room. There’s a desk and a large, mahogany chair sitting behind it, but no one is in it. There are tall, floor to ceiling length windows, but they are curtained, masking the view of Liberty. On the wall opposite the windows are several bookshelves. I lick my lips, eyeing the sheer number of books this single room holds. Books are a rare and expensive commodity. Where had they acquired so many? Perhaps they came from wherever the elves are from. I’m too far away to read the titles.
I glance around, scuffing the toe of one sneaker on the rug. It looks like the elf woman, the other prisoners, and I are the only ones in here. But then the elven woman steps forward. “My prince.” She bows low, her ponytail almost touching the ground. “Some humans have been found on the streets of Liberty. They have shown scraps of magical ability. Those elves who have been searching for magic-wielding humans at your command, have gathered these for you to test and see if they can be used for the cause.”
I start in surprise at a flicker of movement at the end of the room where the shadows gather. It’s an elf. Tall and slender, he radiates power and strength as he saunters from the darkness. The next thing I notice about him is his eyes. They are gray, like moonlight hitting pavement, like mist rolling off the harbor, like my breath frozen in a misty, humid air. I realize with a start that he’s looking at me. I stare back, forgetting how to breathe. My eyes start to water, and I will myself not to blink. His gaze is intense, powerful . . . and utterly devoid of emotion.
My gaze betrays me, and I blink. In that same moment he strides over to converse with the elf woman in their elven language. His dark hair hangs just below his shoulders. His clothing is immaculate: a smart-looking jacket, waistcoat, and fitted trousers, his boots made of black leather. It’s a drool-worthy combination of modern and Victorian-looking pieces and looks vaguely uniform-like. Did they arrive with this kind of fashion, or did they adopt it when they’d come? Regular humans certainly don’t dress like that. Not any that I know.
“They’re so thin and weak,” the prince says in English, eyeing the group of us. His accent is thick. “I left these humans in your charge, Miska.” His voice is mid-range, with a musical quality to it that I am beginning to realize all the elves possess. “They don’t look like they’ve received proper nutrition.”
Miska blinks, showing no emotion, but I feel a flicker of satisfaction when I see her fingers curl into fists. She’s nervous. “I have done my best, my prince. None of them have been under my care for more than a handful of days.” She looks over her shoulder at me. “That grubby one over there arrived less than half an hour ago. I didn’t have time to fix up her appearance or feed her.”
I scowl back at her.
The elven prince sighs heavily, but otherwise shows no emotion. “All right,” he says. “Let’s get this over with.” He eyes us—the humans. “All of you, into a line, here.” He points at the floor in front of him.
We stare at him, the young woman looking terrified, the boy stubborn. I tilt my chin up defiantly. I had remembered Miska’s order to line up, but the others hadn’t or had been otherwise distracted.
The prince’s beautiful eyes narrow. “Now.”
That tone shatters all resistance, and we shuffle forward into a line.
I wanted to stand next to the boy, but another girl beat me to him, so I’m now third in the line of five. The elven prince starts on one end, looking down at the human boy who doesn’t look a day over fifteen, with shaggy red-brown hair and a smattering of freckles dancing across the bridge of his nose.
“What ability do you have, child?” the elf asks.
The boy swallows, working moisture into his mouth. He’s still glaring, but his shoulders are hunched. “I manipulate water.”
I roll my eyes. And I’m the queen of Liberty.
The elf's face is impassive. “Show me.”
A gasp escapes my throat when the boy pulls water out of the air, forming liquid bracelets on his wrists. “That’s impossible,” I breathe.
The prince’s eyes flicker to me for a split-second before he nods, looking down at the young man again. “Very good.” The boy nods once and lowers his gaze, glaring at the floor.
The elf moves on to the next person in line, a woman in her thirties who is trembling from head to toe. “What can you do?”
Swallowing hard, the woman shakes her head. “N-nothing, sir.”
The prince arches a black eyebrow and holds up a small clear crystal. Its center pulses with silver light that washes over the woman.
“It would appear that you do, in fact, wield enchantment,” the elf says, his voice cold. “I’ll tell you this only once. It is a very foolish idea to lie to me. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” The woman nods vigorously.
“What sort of enchantment do you wield?”
Wordlessly, the woman lifts a hand, reaching toward the large desk. There's a potted plant sitting on the surface, and my eyes widen when the leaves grow three times bigger than they were a moment ago.
“I make plants grow,” the woman says. “And I can make them healthier.”
The elven prince nods once. He doesn't smile but looks pleased, nonetheless, and pats her on the head. “Good girl.”
I scowl at the absurdly relieved look on the woman’s face. So, there’s magic in the world. After my initial shock, I can’t say I’m too surprised. After all, elves have come down from the sky. What can possibly be crazier than that?
When the prince stands before me, staring down with his steel-gray eyes, I glower back, my cheeks heating when his gaze roves over me.
His lips quirk up in a cold smile. “You have a little fight in you, I see. I like that.” He arches a dark brow. “Unfortunately, you don't appear to have a scrap of magical ability. I can tell simply by looking at you.” His brow creases. “And stars, you’re plain. I’m glad I’m not searching for a consort.” He smirks, like he’s told a good joke. “Perhaps you are prettier when you smile, hm?”
What is he getting at? This experience is so surreal I don't know how to react or what to do.
The prince makes an impatient noise in his throat. “I order you to smile.”
A wave of mortification rushes over me. I can't smile. Not here, not now. Wilder loved my smile, but even then, I’d felt self-conscious. I smile weakly, keeping my lips shut.
“No. Show teeth. Like this.” He flashes a set of perfect white teeth, his fangs slightly more pronounced than that of a human.
I inhale shakily. Nothing for it, now. I widen my smile, knowing it must look horrifyingly fake.
The elf wrinkles his nose. “Yes. You are plain. Don’t take it personally. Most humans are.”
I'm shaking. I can't tell if it's from rage or pure humiliation. I've always had crooked teeth. Not terribly so, but I’m still self-conscious about them. Getting them straightened was an impossibility, as my family had never been in a financial position to fix them. I try to come up with some cutting, witty retort, something that will hurt him, but my traitorous brain won’t think of anything. Despite his rudeness, he’s probably the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, except for maybe my lost boy, Wilder.
We stand there, staring at each other. Why isn’t he moving on? This whole experience is so strange.
“Why were you brought here, woman?” he asks me abruptly. His gray eyes are unreadable.
I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t have the foggiest idea,” I say blandly, though I know my face is still hot with embarrassment. “I have done no wrong, and I certainly don’t want to stay.”
He tilts his head, dark hair slanting across his forehead. “I imagine any life here would be a vast improvement over whatever wretched existence you’ve come from.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard. Rumors say quite differently about the elves.”
“Oh?” The elf’s face remains expressionless. “What do the rumors say?”
&nb
sp; Face flushing further, my gaze drops to the floor. I notice the prince’s boots are polished to perfection. “Nothing, really,” I mumble. It won’t do to get myself in further trouble.
“That's what I thought.”
Anger flares in my gut at his words, but I stay silent.
“Geldyn brought her,” Miska says. She ignores the glare I shoot her. “He said he sensed magic.”
“Really?” There’s a thread of confusion in the prince’s voice. “Let us make certain.”
He lifts the same crystal he'd used on the woman who controlled plants, and I'm bathed in silver light.
A faint line creases his brow as he studies me. “Strange,” he muses.
“What is?” I ask.
“Geldyn has yet to be wrong when he senses magic,” he replies, “but you do not show any ability.”
His fingers curve over the crystal, and the light winks out. He moves on, speaking to the woman next to me who can make herself almost invisible. It would seem I'm the odd human out, having no enchantment.
I glower at the ground, my mind a tangle of conflicting emotions and thoughts. What now? Will he let me go? Will I be taken somewhere else?
When I come out of my flustered thoughts, I find the prince is at the end of the line, scrutinizing a pale beauty with gorgeous blonde curls. “What's your name, girl?” The prince smiles, looking almost kind, except for the cold flicker in his gaze.
“Beatrice, sir.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
“Be-ah-trees.” He fumbles with the name, his accent coming out strong. “And what kind of ability do you wield, Be-ah-trees?”
The girl swallows, trembling visibly. “It’s n-nothing of consequence, sir. C-could I p-please go home?” She looks pale as death. “I have a family, and a b-boyfriend, sir.”
The elf's eyes flash. “You're mine unless I say otherwise, girl. Do you understand?”
The young woman blinks rapidly, fighting back tears. “What do you mean?”
“I am the prince of this wretched city, of this land, of the whole fyit world,” he says slowly, as if explaining something that should be obvious. “You are mine, and this base is mine. Everything is mine. You're not going anywhere unless I allow it. And I do not.”
