by C. J. Anaya
“Impostors surround you. Trust no one but yourself.” I breathed out a tired sigh. “I don’t understand. My father and Kheelan are here to protect me from anyone untrustworthy.”
The hand seemed to wilt in discouragement and then it motioned me closer. I moved forward, not realizing I’d taken two steps over the line between grass and soil. The hand moved so quickly I barely had time to blink let alone pull back. It latched onto my arm just above the elbow and forcefully yanked me down as the ground beneath me opened wide enough to swallow me whole. I saw a flash of sharp teeth, glowing blue eyes, and suddenly I was under the earth within a dark, dank tunnel that smelled of death and decay.
I wrinkled my nose at the onslaught and fought to see within the total darkness surrounding me, moving into a fighting position with fists raised. A sharp noise echoed through the area and a small torch lit, momentarily blinding me. I allowed my eyes to adjust and then took in the creature before me with a mixture of horror and fascination. Its form was similar to mine in build, but that’s where the similarities ended. The creature’s skin was a lacquered dark, blue color, its hair was a shocking silver that ran past its chin. The muscles and sinews of its body were well-defined under the glow of the torch light. Its skin was raised on different parts of its body where it looked as if someone had carved strange designs along its biceps, chest, and thighs. There were two crescents carved just below its eyes which were almond shaped and pure white. The Yanrath was definitely male. I kept my eyes above board after that one unfortunate look down under.
Clothing! I’m a huge fan of clothing. Sheesh.
When it spoke, its voice rang out surprisingly clear and gentle.
“Well met, Princess. I apologize for taking you down here without your permission, but I felt it my duty to warn you of the dangers you face.”
I took in a stuttering breath and let it out slowly.
“What is your name?” I asked.
“I am called, Langren, but names are rarely used among my people.”
I pondered that one for a moment but figured questioning him about it was the least of my worries.
“You’re not going to hurt me?” I asked.
“There are some who would consider it, but I am not so foolish. The land is dying, my people are slowly being poisoned within the tunnels of our home, and I believe you are the only one who can save us from this, but you must survive in order to do so.”
“What threats are you worried about?”
“Your companions. They lie to you. They are not telling you the truth of things.”
I stared at him hard for a moment. I was in the presence of something capable of killing me in a heartbeat. I didn’t know his character or understand his angle so I had no reason to trust him or believe anything he said.
“Why do you think they are lying to me?”
“Yanrath see thoughts, feelings, and words in color. Your father’s explanation does not match the correct color spectrum. He has told you one thing, but a sickly hue of gray surrounds him when he speaks. Your prince also bears this color along with the black swirlings of betrayal.”
“You’re saying they care nothing for me. They’re feeding me information, using me to get what they want.”
“Not necessarily,” Langren said. “The colors of their feelings show they both care for you deeply, but their lies prove they cannot be trusted.”
I folded my arms and bit my lip in a nervous gesture.
“Maybe they’re lying to protect me.”
“Or maybe they are lying to protect themselves.”
I stared at the shiny blue surface of his face and wondered if the puckered crescents had been painful to receive. Or maybe he was born with the marks. I shook my head and focused on the problem at hand.
“There is more.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course there’s more.”
“The circumstances surrounding your mother’s murder are not as they seem. Your father has couched this story in half-truths.”
“Half-truths? You got all that through colors?”
The Yanrath shrugged his shoulders in a take-it-or-leave-it gesture.
“The colors cannot be misrepresented. When he speaks of your mother and her death, an ugly blackness crowns his head.”
“What does that mean, the black crown around his head?”
“It means he brings death to those he loves.”
My stomach took a nose dive for a moment before I reminded myself that I knew nothing about this individual.
“Why should I trust you? Why should I believe anything you say?”
“I gain nothing by lying to you. Our world is slowly dying and it is obvious to me you must save us all. I would not compromise the source of our salvation.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t even know enough about my magic to be very helpful in a fight. There’s not much I can do.”
He moved swiftly and stood before me with his hand pressed against my chest just above my core. I held my breath, afraid he might attack me with his sharp nails, but he merely cocked his head to the side in a decidedly bird-like movement.
“The colors of your core contain the impossible, and there is still room for more. You will heal us in more ways than anyone could possibly imagine. Remember me, when you come to understand what you are meant to achieve. My mate and I will be waiting for your summons.”
I swallowed down a ball of nervous energy at his close proximity.
“Once again, I have no clue what you’re talking about, but barring my abilities to save the Fae realm, are you suggesting I leave my father and Kheelan and attempt to save this world on my own? I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
He removed his hand and took two steps back. I relaxed my tense muscles once he wasn’t so close to me.
“Remain with them, but be on your guard. Most of all, believe nothing they say unless you can verify it. These lies they spew may ruin your life and other Fae lives in the process, whether they aim for that end result or not.”
I nodded, deciding this guy, though well-meaning, was a little out there. I would be careful and make my own judgments from now on, but me claiming to be some all powerful super hero wasn’t happening. He’d pegged the wrong princess for that role.
“You must return before your companions awaken. Remember to be cautious in their presence, and when you see The Fates, believe their words over anyone else’s. The Fates are incapable of telling lies and their truths would serve you well.”
I nodded and waited for him to say something else. After several moments of awkward silence, I finally cleared my throat.
“So how do I…um…” I pointed to the dark earth above me.
Hello. Was I supposed to dig my way out of here?
“My apologies, Princess.”
The Yanrath stood still for a moment and then slowly began to grow in height until his head reached the dark soil four feet above us. He then punched a hole through the top and reached for my hand. I hesitated before placing it in his and jolted in surprise when a ball of auburn light encased my entire being.
“What the…”
I shot from the ground up toward the roof, through the earth, and onto the grassy clearing. I could have sworn the damn Yanrath let out an amused chuckle at my expense before the hole behind me silently closed.
Bizarre.
A death eating faerie who probably wanted to munch on me for breakfast had just dragged me below ground to tell me the only two people in the world I loved and trusted were liars.
It was by far the strangest thing that had ever happened to me…thus far.
But did the warning hold merit?
The thought that it might made me wonder what else Kheelan and my father had lied to me about.
And why?
I couldn’t sleep much after that, but my father and Kheelan awoke a few hours later, none the wiser about my sojourn under ground. I tried convincing myself that the Yanrath’s warning hadn’t gotten to me,
but I’d already suspected I wasn’t being told everything. To have it confirmed by someone who had no reason to lie to me, made me look at my companions in a whole new light.
The only thing that prevented me from confronting them was the Yanrath’s assurance that Kheelan and my father both cared for me. If they loved me, then whatever their secrets were, most likely they would reveal them to me at the appropriate time.
Right?
There was nothing for me to do except trust them and continue on in their company. Because, honestly, where exactly would I go? And why would I leave? My affection for Kheelan had grown exponentially over time, and I finally had my father back, someone who had been dead for eighteen years. It didn’t matter that I didn’t remember the separation. I had to get to know both of them all over again regardless of the half-truths and secrets, but I’d be more cautious.
More careful.
I wouldn’t take anything at face value anymore. At the moment, it was about the only thing I could do.
We ate and packed up our camp quickly just as dusk approached again. According to my father, we had about five more hours to go before we reached the top of the mountain, and he sensed the Goblins’ restless activity due to our continued presence. He worried they might do something harmful even though we were obeying their laws at the moment.
“What exactly are they capable of?” I asked.
“They’re Autumn faeries and have a special affinity for elemental Earth magic,” Kheelan said. “We’re at their mercy should they deign to cause an earthquake, mudslide, or open up the path right in front of us and allow the earth to swallow us whole.”
“Seriously?” I squeaked.
Kheelan grinned and put his arm around me, giving it a comforting squeeze.
“If that were to happen, Crysta, we would disapparate away from here without a moment’s hesitation, but I doubt it will come to that. Goblins are really more bark than bite when you get right down to it.”
Was it just me or did most of the faeries within the Unseelie Court seem a bit more menacing in nature? I was supposed to rule all of them eventually.
Maybe I’d vote for team Seelie and rule that with Kheelan instead.
The next several hours were a bit miserable. The terrain had become much steeper and my legs and back were aching and sore from yesterday’s hike.
I was a bit winded. I wondered what in the world I’d done for exercise before I lost my memory.
A brief flash of blue eyes, haunting music, and masculine hands holding my waist as I dipped and turned brought me up short. I stilled as I latched on to the memory, attempting to pull it to the surface and smooth it out before me to see the entire picture like I would with some crumpled paper containing an important message. The memory blurred, though it continued to unfold, revealing graceful movements and beautiful lines. I closed my eyes and reveled in the arms surrounding me, lifting me, pulling me, cradling me, and eventually spinning me as I danced within a room filled with mirrors from ceiling to floor.
I spun in those arms again, lifted high above the floor, arching myself into a graceful pose as I was gently lowered to the ground. With the heat of those hands caressing my waist and the firm press of my partners chest against my back, I looked into the mirrors and stared at our reflection.
The man behind me had his head bent, lowering a kiss to my shoulder, his silver hair hiding his face until he lifted his eyes to meet mine in the mirror.
Blue eyes.
Not green.
Not Kheelan.
Jareth stared back at me with a fiery look of possessiveness and desire that made my knees lose power and my legs become utterly useless. He lifted hands to my bare shoulders and the minute they made contact a golden luminescence glowed just under his fingers.
What was happening? Why was he part of this memory?
Why was he looking at me like that?
“Crysta, what’s wrong? Are you all right?” Kheelan asked, though his voice seemed a million miles from me.
I blinked away the image as a sharp stab of pain knifed through my head. I inhaled sharply and reached out, momentarily blinded by the agony that any brush with a memory delivered.
Kheelan grabbed me from behind when my knees buckled, pulling me down and into his lap where he stroked my face and rubbed my temples.
“What’s happening to her?” my father asked in concern.
“It’s these damn migraines she keeps getting. I thought she might be done with them, but it’s happened again. I can tell this one is much worse than the last one.”
I blinked again, which was a mistake. Any movement at all just brought on more pain.
“Heal her, Kheelan. I hate to see her like this, and we’re too vulnerable out in the open.”
I waited as the soothing heat from Kheelan’s hands and his magic worked to overcome my agony. After a few moments, I hesitantly opened my eyes, relieved to feel nothing other than a slight ache at the base of my skull.
“I’m fine,” I said in response to Kheelan’s worried expression. “Thank you for fixing it.”
He nodded, but refused to let go of my hand as we continued upward toward our destination. I think he was worried I hadn’t fully recovered.
I was worried too, but not about that.
Either I’d had a waking nightmare or remembered a tiny moment of my previous life.
Why was Jareth there, and why had we been dancing together?
Kheelan mentioned Jareth had tried to pursue me. Maybe we’d spent quite a bit of time together before I eventually rejected him and fell in love with Kheelan.
But that look in his eyes. The way he held me when we danced. The way I’d felt within his arms. Why had I chosen Kheelan if even a tenth of those feelings and emotions had been real on mine and Jareth’s part?
I couldn’t have, which meant I was remembering things wrong. What felt like passion must have been something far different. I had no reason to trust these flashes of my past since I didn’t have enough context with which to interpret them.
“Kheelan, I know this is going to sound like a strange question, but did Jareth and I ever spend much time together when he was pursuing an alliance with me?”
There was an awkward pause before he spoke.
“Yes. He tried several things to get you to fall in love with him.”
“Like what? Like evening meals together…walks…dancing? Do faeries dance?”
“All the time. We have several festivities at which most faeries participate in dancing, and I do believe Jareth asked you to dance a time or two.”
That was it then. That had to be it. Granted the room we’d been in looked nothing like a place where you might throw a party, and we’d been the only ones there, but I might have remembered the details wrong. It all came out distorted.
It was the only conclusion that made sense.
“Why?” he asked, his tone suspicious.
I opened my mouth to give some plausible explanation for my random question and was saved by my father’s hushed words.
“You both need to stop talking. We’re drawing some very unwanted attention to ourselves.”
A sharp snap of twigs stopped us in our tracks as three Goblins about four feet tall entered the path, blocking our progress.
“The Fates preserve us, I did not want a run in with this race,” my father muttered under his breath.
The Goblins were not very pleasant to look at. Their filmy yellow eyes popped forward slightly and their bald heads were covered in warts and and angry red sores. Probably infected, but I didn’t think they noticed the pain. Thick stubby arms and legs were also covered with the same sores. They wore zero clothing, which was unfortunate since they were obviously male.
Ew.
For the love of all that is good and holy, can’t anyone around here put some clothes on?
I kept my eyes up and stared at their mouths, but I couldn’t say the view was any better. Their teeth were blackened with decay, sticking out from undernea
th cracked, grimy lips that thinned in a sneer as they took us all in and found us wanting in some way.
Perhaps we weren’t ugly enough?
They had no weapons that I could see, but Kheelan’s little lesson about their Earth magic meant their lack of weaponry didn’t fill me with much comfort. The one on the left addressed my father, but I couldn’t understand the grunting, garbled language that managed to make its way past his disgusting mouth.
“Please speak English,” my father said.
The Goblins stared at my father in surprise.
“You wish to speak a human language?” the one on the left said.
I think that’s what he said. It sounded more like a prolonged growl to me, and I got the distinct impression he was offended by my father’s request.
Then I thought about his question.
I had no idea the language I currently spoke was a human language. Why was it the only language I remembered? I raised my eyebrows and looked at Kheelan who refused to meet my gaze.
Interesting. Another clue to what was really going on. Too bad I couldn’t puzzle it out.
“Why are you here?” the Goblin said.
“We seek guidance from The Fates.”
The Goblins looked at one another to confer. I noticed the one on the far right shake his head.
“We’ll not allow it.”
“Why?” Kheelan asked. “We have stayed on the path, used no magic, and broken no laws.”
“We were recently given instructions to prevent such interactions with The Fates.”
“By who?” my father said in outrage.
“King Moridan has forbidden it.”
My father sputtered in disbelief.
“You can’t be serious. King Moridan is not your ruler. He has nothing to do with dealings in the Unseelie Court.”
“We have sworn allegiance to him.”
“Are you crazy?” I said, forgetting myself for a moment. “He’ll kill you all given the chance.”
Three sets of yellow eyes zeroed in on me, but I held my ground, refusing to flinch away from their gaze.
“You are interesting to look at,” the one on the right said. “You two may go, but we will take her and study her further. She might make a good Goblin wife once we turn her.”
