“It’s where I live,” is all he says.
In my mind, I draw up a ledger and create an imaginary column collecting his assets. He’s supposedly wealthy. Has some rundown manor. Now, what are his liabilities? His weaknesses? He can’t lie, but I need more than that to use against him. Which means I need to investigate further. Continue my ruse of an alliance.
Allowing only curiosity to infuse my tone, I say, “I’ve yet to hear your name. Not here, and not in Vernon. Is it true you do not know it?”
“My name is forgotten, both by myself and anyone who dares to think of me. It’s part of the curse, slowly stripping away my memories and those of all fae who remain under my roof. Our names were the first to go.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “Why are you cursed?”
He meets my gaze for a moment, eyes flashing with indignation. “I killed a human.” He winces, sinking lower in his chair. “Several of them.”
My throat feels dry at the confession. “Why?”
His expression darkens. “They hunted and killed one of my fae brethren, so I took my revenge and killed the entire hunting party. I…I didn’t know the wolf was killed on approved hunting grounds, so my vengeance was unlawful, especially without consent of the Alpha Council.”
I nod, although I feel like I’m barely following. From what I’ve learned, the Alpha Council is the highest level of government in Faerwyvae, consisting of all ruling kings and queens of each court, and acting in alliance with the courts’ human representatives. What I hadn’t known is that there’s such a thing as approved or unapproved hunting grounds. I suppose it makes sense, though, making specific areas safe for the fae, while opening others so humans can continue their hunting activities for sport, survival, or trade. “Were you not informed where the wolf was killed?”
“I knew where he was killed, I just…I hadn’t realized what that land was.”
“Was it not in your own court?”
“It was.”
I raise a brow. “Do you not know your own lands?”
He burns me with a glare. “I once knew my lands like the back of my paw. I ruled Winter—all of it—for hundreds of years. But when my court moved—”
“What do you mean it moved?”
“Do you not know the history of Faerwyvae?” His words are heavy with condescension. “I admit, you look barely older than a pup, but surely you’ve heard about the war.”
“I have heard about both wars, the most recent one ending twenty years ago. I’m just…not originally from here. I just moved a few weeks ago.” I bite the inside of my cheek, hoping I don’t come to regret the confession. I see no benefit in hiding the truth, though.
His expression softens, and his voice takes on an almost conversational tone. “Then perhaps you’ve heard Faerwyvae was once called the Fair Isle and was divided in half. The north was called what our entire isle is named now—Faerwyvae—and the south was called Eisleigh and was ruled by Bretton. When Bretton betrayed the humans and declared war on the isle, it was the fae who saved everyone. We fought the human armies, defeated them, and set up a perimeter wall of standing stones infused with magic. I assume you were escorted between the stones when you arrived?”
“Yes,” I say. In fact, there was an entire fae guard awaiting our arrival at the docks when our ship pulled into the port. Myself, my father, my sister, and the few other humans who’d been granted citizenship, were escorted by two armed guards per person, marching us single file between a pair of enormous, towering stones. There was no fiery blast or shimmering lights to signify the invisible magic barrier we crossed, but the hair stood up on the back of my neck just the same. I shudder at the memory.
The king continues. “For a moment, imagine what the isle was like after the war. The southern half that was previously human land now fell under fae rule. It took years for the Alpha Council to rework the divide of property, determine the new boundary lines. Many of us had to relocate our palaces, our homes, our people. After that, the land had to adapt to the magic and climate of each court. I was one of the unlucky ones, a king forced from his lifelong throne to settle in the south, claiming a land still thick with the stench of iron. I refused to have a palace rebuilt and held court in the mountain caves instead. I paid little heed to the humans or the decisions made by the Alpha Council regarding my land, since I clearly had no say.”
I frown. “As king, aren’t you part of the Alpha Council?”
He grunts a bitter laugh. “I was overruled more often than not. Let’s just say there were—are—many on the council who are not my greatest fans. I’m sure the feeling would be mutual…if I could remember those fools clearly.” He mutters the last part under his breath.
“So, I’m guessing you didn’t pay attention to where the approved hunting regions were?”
He shifts anxiously in his seat, refusing to meet my eyes. “Correct.”
I purse my lips, finding it hard to pity him when his own negligence brought about his fate. “All right, so you took unlawful vengeance on a pack of hunters and were cursed for it. Is that…normal for fae punishment?”
He shrugs. “Curses and bargains are what fae specialize in, especially when it comes to punishments doled out by the Alpha Council.”
“How long have you been under this curse?”
Closing his eyes, he rubs his brow with his thumb and forefinger. “This is the fifth year. The year it will claim my life if it isn’t broken.” His voice is laced with equal parts exhaustion and irritation.
“How so? Does the curse take more than just your memories?”
He opens his eyes and looks at me from beneath the wisps of his tangled mane of hair, so unlike the white of his wolf form. Barking a laugh, he shakes his head. “Memories,” he echoes. “I wish it would only take my memories. The curse can have them all, for all I care.”
“What else does it take?”
He rises to stand, bringing his staff beneath his arm, then hobbles to the window. I remain in place, watching as he gazes out the same glass pane I watched him from not long ago.
“Almost five years ago,” the king says, “I was condemned to serve a sentence of one year for every life I’d taken, for a total of five. At the end of the sentence, the curse is set to claim me, and I will be permanently stripped of four things: my memories, my magic, my immortality, and my unseelie form. In essence, I’ll be mortal, human, and without any idea of who I am. But none of that matters, for when mortality catches up to my age, I will have but seconds to live. I’ve seen similar curses doled out before. It isn’t a kind punishment.”
Terrible images course through my mind, of a man aging right before my eyes, the flesh wrinkling and melting from his bones. I swallow hard. “What about now? The curse already affects you, does it not?”
He nods. “During my five-year sentence, I’ve been forced to suffer a taste of the curse to come. First, I was stripped from both my magic and my unseelie form outside every full moon. During the full moon, I can use my magic to become a wolf again. Every other moment, however, I am trapped in a human body. No connection to magic.”
I furrow my brow, recalling the horrifying novels I’ve read about lycanthropes who shift when the light of the full moon touches them. Could these gruesome tales hold a kernel of truth? “But you were a wolf this morning,” I say. “The moon was not out.”
“Day or night, it doesn’t matter,” he says, almost too quiet to hear. “So long as the moon is full, I can shift, but only once. If I don’t shift back to my seelie form on my own, I’m forced out of my wolf form against my will once the moon begins to wane.”
I study him for a moment, eyes falling on his wooden staff. “Did you lose your leg as part of the curse?”
He shakes his head, still staring wistfully out the window. “I lost it in the war. The second one, that is. Anyway, after I was robbed of my magic and my unseelie form, I began to age like a human. Hurt like a human. Then I began to lose my memories. It started with my name. It contin
ued with small things. Other names. Faces. Sometimes, I can’t even recall the way a frozen wind feels blowing through my fur.” He grips the edge of the windowsill until his knuckles turn white.
I pause, going over everything he’s told me so far. Nothing seems useful as leverage to bargain my way out of here. There must be something. Something he hasn’t told me yet. “You said the curse will claim you this year. Do you know when?”
He nods. “The roses tell me it will be soon.”
“The roses?”
He presses his head to the glass and releases a grumbling sigh. “Since I had no palace, I was given this manor, abandoned by the humans who once lived here. It acts as my gilded cage, containing me and my pack within the boundaries of the curse. We can only travel within a small radius outside the manor, and any fae who steps within the radius is plagued by my curse, forced into seelie form. For visitors, however, the curse is temporary and allows them free passage in or out of my manor. For myself and all those who remained at my side when the curse was delivered, it is permanent.”
I’m not sure what any of this has to do with roses, but I decide to keep quiet. More questions sprout up alongside this new information. Why did some of his subjects choose to stay with him when his curse was delivered? Why didn’t everyone flee?
He continues. “Along with this manor, I was given twenty roses, each bearing nearly a hundred petals—some more, some less. One petal has fallen every day since the curse began, robbing one rose of life at a time. As each rose falls, brambles take its place, smothering the life that once bloomed. Today, I watched the second-to-last rose lose its final petal. There is one rose left in the garden. Perhaps one hundred petals. One hundred days at most. Then the curse will take me.”
I ponder this. That’s approximately three months from now. If he plans on holding me captive until he gets his way, that’s the longest I’ll have to wait. Then, if what he says is true, he’ll die and I’ll be free.
“Don’t look so hopeful,” he says, gaze narrowed at me. “For I will break this curse.”
I lift my chin, hiding my calculations behind a stoic mask. “And how do you expect to do that?”
He moves away from the window and takes a few steps toward me. “I’ve been given two ways to be free of this curse. The first way is this: of the four things I stand to lose, if I sacrifice the one I value most, I will be returned those which I value less.”
My eyes go wide, my mouth falling open. “Wait, you’re telling me you have the power to break your own curse? And instead, you’re kidnapping people and holding them for ransom?”
“Did you not hear a word I said? To break the curse myself, I must sacrifice that which I value most to gain what I value less. Besides, it is but a partial breaking, not a true one.”
I burn him with a glare. “And what is this great value of yours that is so much more important than breaking your curse?”
He gestures toward himself. “Isn’t it obvious? My unseelie form. To break the curse myself, I’d have to sacrifice my wolf body and accept a human form for the rest of my life, just to reclaim my immortality, magic, and memories.”
“And that’s somehow a bad thing?”
“Life isn’t worth living—especially an immortal one—if I’m stuck in this hideous human body,” he says with a sneer. “Not even my magic will matter to me if I can’t use it to shift forms.”
Hideous human body. Could he truly be so vain? I assess the king and his wild hair, his unruly beard, trying to find the youthful male buried underneath. While he claims to have begun aging when his sentence began, it’s only his unkempt appearance that makes him look that way. And even though I wouldn’t call him handsome by any means, he certainly isn’t hideous. On the outside, that is. His personality leaves much to be desired. “You could be…decent looking if you tried, you know. Perhaps you could even come to like yourself the way you are.”
He tilts his head back as if I’m spouting nonsense. “Impossible. Do you see me? I’m…disgusting. Repulsive.” His face twists in disgust. “Human.”
“Wait…you think you’re hideous because you look…human?”
“Of course.”
I almost burst out laughing. What I first deemed vanity is more a matter of prejudice. “Do you find all humans to be as hideous as you assume yourself to be? If so, you must think I am ugly as well.”
His gaze roves my body from head to toe. “Why wouldn’t I?”
A blush of heat rises up my neck. “I’m almost of a mind to be offended.”
“Waste no emotion on me, human. I’ll waste none on you, I can tell you that much.”
I purse my lips and force my indignation to cool. Why should I care what he thinks of me, anyway? Men finding me attractive has never served me well before. “Fine then. Now, what is this second option to break your curse? The one that must have something to do with a human sacrifice?”
“The second way to break the curse is for a human to hold me in such high esteem that they are willing to sacrifice that which they treasure most, breaking the curse altogether.”
I roll the words over in my mind, studying them from different angles. This time, it’s impossible to stifle my laughter. “And you think the tricks you’ve been playing on me are supposed to work?” I throw my head back, tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. “You can’t trick someone into holding you in the highest esteem, nor can you expect a feigned rescue after a contrived attack to stir that kind of sacrifice-inducing gratitude you’re after.”
He frowns, shoulders rigid as color burns in his cheeks. “Oh, and how would you go about it?”
“Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, actually befriending a human to gain their esteem?”
“Would that work?” His tone is skeptical, but there’s a note of hope in it too. “Even if I were to befriend a human, as you say, would such a friendship engender someone to make such a sacrifice for me? Would you do as much for your dearest friend?”
The question quickly sobers me. While I no longer count anyone as a close friend these days, I can still imagine facing the choice. For someone I loved, would I sacrifice that which I treasure most? I consider my great treasures, drawing a blank. Then it comes to me. My greatest treasure is that which I do not have—freedom, independence, a life of my own. There’s no one I’d be willing to sacrifice that for, no matter how dire their circumstance. For where would such a sacrifice leave me? If I am to assume the opposite would then manifest, I’d be…
Trapped. Captive. Controlled.
The thought alone drains the blood from my face.
“I suppose you’re right,” I admit. “Not even friendship would make such a sacrifice easy. You need something stronger.”
He nods. “Which is why I invoke an element of fear, something to set one’s mind at unease, make one more apt toward impulsive decisions beneath the weight of their gratitude.”
“But that isn’t working either,” I say. “You need something else. Something that makes someone stupider than fear, but more invested than friendship.”
“Well, if you have any bright ideas,” he says, voice heavy with sarcasm, “I’m all ears.”
I freeze as an epiphany strikes me.
I tally up everything he’s told me. His assets. His liabilities. I see his needs, his hurdles, his struggles.
And right there in the middle is an opportunity. Not just for him. For me.
I turn away, a plan forming in my mind. I go over it again and again, checking it for weaknesses. Then finally, I say, “I have an idea.”
His voice comes out heavy with suspicion. “About what?”
I turn to face him, a smile tugging my lips. “We’re going to make a bargain.”
12
When we moved to Faerwyvae, I may not have been given a complete education regarding the fae, but I was told the same rule by pretty much every human who welcomed us to Vernon: never bargain with the fae.
I had every intention of keeping to this rule. Addi
tionally, when I began my conversation with the king, I had absolutely zero intentions of actually allying with him.
The thing is, when people mention fae bargains, they describe terrible bonds, blood-curdling curses, and deadly punishments. No one ever mentions a bargain that benefits the human involved, perhaps more so than the fae.
And that’s exactly what I’ve crafted in my mind.
Excitement bubbles in my chest at the possibilities, but I do my best to maintain my composure, keeping a straight face before the king.
“What kind of bargain?” he says, taking a hesitant step back.
I clasp my hands at my waist, standing at my full height. “Like I said, to get a human to break your curse, you’ll need something that makes them stupider than fear, but more invested than friendship.”
He narrows his eyes. “Go on.”
“And if the person must sacrifice that which they treasure most to break the curse, then you need to find someone who has only trivial treasures. Material things. For that, you need to know the right person.”
Quirking a brow, he says, “And you happen to know the right person?”
I can’t fight the smile that stretches my lips, and it’s all I can do to suppress the devious laughter that begs to erupt from inside me. “I do. Her name is Imogen Coleman.”
“All right,” he says slowly. “How do propose to get this Imogen Coleman to break the curse? The sacrifice must be made of their own free—”
“Their own free will and volition, I get it. Trust me, subtlety is not your strong suit.” I take a few steps closer to where he stands. “That is where my phase two comes in. Where you make her both stupid and invested.”
“You say it like it’s simple.”
“It is. Because you’re going to make her fall in love with you.”
“Love!” He scoffs, lips pulling into a grimace. “I’m going to make a human fall in love with me?”
I purse my lips to keep my grin from spreading wider. “Precisely. Love is that which makes humans absolute fools while making them equally and irrationally attached to another person. You were right when you said you needed to entice the sacrifice during feelings of great impulse. That’s exactly what love does. It turns people into reckless idiots, both blind to reason and ignorant of their own folly, even as it stares them in the eyes.”
Curse of the Wolf King: A Beauty and the Beast Retelling (Entangled with Fae) Page 8
