The manor sprawled across a rolling green land. I'd never seen anything like it, so majestic and grand; even our former estate couldn't compare to this beauty. It was veiled in roses and ivy, with patios and balconies sprouting from its alabaster sides. Huge glass windows overlooked blinking lights of what I could guess was the city of the faeries. The grounds were also encased by woods but stretched so far that I could barely see the distant line of the forest. So much colour, so much sunlight and movement and texture ... I could hardly drink it all in fast enough. To paint it would be useless, would never do it justice.
My awe might have overpowered my fear had the place not been so wholly empty and silent. Even the garden through which we walked, following a wide gravel path to the main doors of the house, seemed hushed and sleeping. Above the collection of scents of the butter-yellow daffodils, dainty daisies, and violet bluebells swaying in the balmy breeze, the faint stench of metal ticked my nostrils.
Of course it would be magic, because it was so vibrant here. What wretched power did they possess to make their lands so different from ours, to control nature and the weather itself as if they owned them? Sweat trickled down my spine as my layers of clothes turned suffocating. I rotated my wrists and shifted in my saddle. Whatever magic bonds had held me were gone.
The faerie meandered on ahead, his purely white tunic clinging onto his muscles. He leaped nimbly up the grand marble staircase that led to the giant oak doors in one mighty, fluid movement. The doors swung open for him on silent hinges, and he prowled inside. I'd no doubt he planned this entire arrival—keeping me unconscious so I didn't know where I was, didn't know the way home or what other deadly faerie territories might be lurking between me and the barrier. I felt for my hunting knife, but only found layers of old, frayed clothes.
The thought of his hands pawing through my cloak to find my knife made my mouth go dry. I shoved away the fury and terror and disgust as I shook my head. No, he has magic. He could bring out my knife without touching me. My horse came to a stop of her accord at the foot of the stairs. The message was clear enough. I would have to go on my own. The towering estate seemed to be watching, waiting.
I took a deep breath and ran through my rough plan again. My knees buckled as I hit the ground, bits of light flashing in my vision. I grasped the saddle and winced as soreness and hunger racked my senses. Now—I had to go now. I made to move, but the world was still spinning and flashing.
Only a fool would carry out this plan with no food, no strength. Besides, I need to bide my time and befriend the faeries to gain their trust. If they found out, I wouldn't have a chance to flee before he caught me and tore me to ribbons, as he'd promised.
I took another long, shuddering breath. Food—getting food, then I'll bide my time to befriend the faeries. It sounded like a solid plan.
When I was steady enough to walk, I left the horse at the bottom of the stairs, taking the steps one at a time. My breath tight in my chest, I passed through the open doors and into the shadows of the house.
Inside, it was even more lavish. Pure white marble tiles shone at my feet, flowing to the countless doors and a sweeping staircase. A long hall stretched ahead to the giant glass doors at the other end of the house, and through them I glimpsed a second garden, grander than the one out front as well as a ... maze? No sign of a dungeon—no shouts or pleas rising from hidden chambers below. No, just the low warning growl from a nearby room, so deep that it rattled the vases overflowing with fat clusters of flowers atop the scattered hall tables. As if in response, an open set of polished wooden doors swung wider to my right. A command to follow.
My fingers shook as I rubbed my eyes. I'd known the Seelie Faeries once built themselves palaces and temples around the world for creatures to worship them—but I'd never considered how they might live today, in such elegance and wealth. Never contemplated that faeries might own estates grander and more luxurious than any mortal dwelling.
I tensed as I entered the room.
Fat beams of sunlight were let in from the glass panels that mostly let made up this room. A long table—longer than any we'd ever possessed at our manor filled up most of the space. It was laden with plates and goblets, overflowing with food and wine—so much food, some of it wafting tendrils of steam that made my mouth water. At least it was familiar, and not some strange faerie delicacies: bread, chicken, lamb, asparagus, peas, fish, cheese ... it could have been a feast at any mortal manor. Another surprise. The faerie padded over to the throne-like chair at the head of the table, intricately carved with whorls of leaves.
I walked to one of the glass windows, gazing at the tiny shops and buildings of the faerie city in the distance. The buildings were all beautiful, yes, with twisting cobblestone streets snaking between them and whitish coloured walls creeping with ivy and flowers. I would like to go there one day, were it not for the bargain I had to keep.
I lingered by the windows, gazing at the food—all that hot, glorious food—that I couldn't eat. That was the first rule we were taught as children, usually in songs or chants: If misfortune forces you to keep company with a faerie, you never drank their wine, never ate their food they offered you. Ever. Unless you wanted to wind up enslaved to them in mind and soul—unless you wanted to wind up dragged back to Asteria. Unfortunately, the second part had happened, but I might stand a slight chance at avoiding the first.
The faerie plopped into the chair, the wood groaning, and, in a flash of white light, turned his tunic into a white, billowy renaissance shirt with brown trousers. I stifled a cry and pushed myself against the smooth surface of the glass window.
"You should eat something," he said. He filled up a glass of wine from an exquisitely cut crystal decanter and drank deeply. As if he needed it.
I inched towards the door, my heart beating so fast I thought I'd vomit. If I move quietly, I could grab the dining knife from the table and use it as a makeshift weapon if I needed to. Though his Fae ears—with their delicate, pointed arches—would pick up any whisper of movement from me.
"Who are you?" I managed to say. The golden streaks in his hair shone as he shifted in his seat to face me.
"Sit," he said gruffly, waving a hand to encompass the table. "Eat. You need it."
I ran through the chants in my head, again and again. Not worth it—easing my ravenous hunger was not worth having my mind and soul enslaved to him.
"I can't. It's not safe for humans," I managed to say, stuttering over my words.
He huffed a laugh—more feral than anything. "The food is fine for you to eat, human. Now sit and eat." Those strange amber eyes flecked with gold pinned me to the spot, as if he could detect my muscles straining to reach the dining knife. "Leave, if you want," he added with a flash of pearly, white teeth. "I'm not your jailer. The gates are open—you can live anywhere in Asteria. Though I'd bet a hundred gold pieces that you would last less than five seconds in those woods." He pointed with a hand at the evergreen forest surrounding.
I wiped my sweaty hands against my pants as I shivered. And no doubt be eaten or tormented by a wretched faerie or creature. I made no move towards the food.
"Fine," he said, the word laced with a growl and began serving himself.
I didn't have to face the consequences of refusing him another time, as someone strode past me, heading right for the head of the table.
"Well? Is she here?" the stranger said—another Seelie Faerie: hair like spun gold and dressed in a tight-fitting white dress that accentuated her curves. Her voice seemed familiar, though I couldn't remember where I have heard it before. She sketched a curtsey to the seated male and then crossed her arms. Somehow, she hadn't spotted me where I had inched to the wall beside the door, still pressed against it.
"Well, what?" My captor cocked his head, the movement more animal than human.
"Is she here, then?"
A nod from my captor. "She's right behind you," he said quietly.
The stranger whirled with fluid grace, silver beads on her dress clinking against each other. Even from across the room, I could see her sapphire eyes widen and realisation struck me. This was the woman that had accompanied the male that night. She sniffed once, her lips curling a bit to reveal straight white teeth, and looked me head to toe. "Yes, I remember you. You were the one who tried to kill me that night, with the arrow." Bastards—absolute bastards. A pity I didn't have the arrow now—so I could finish what I started.
She turned back to the other faerie. "This? We have to babysit her? I thought she was dead!"
"She chose to be spared," the one with amber eyes said tightly, tracing the rim of his goblet with a finger. I fought to keep my breathing steady. Especially as he added, "She didn't hesitate."
The female sank onto the edge of the table, the light catching in her long golden hair. "Well," the female faerie seethed, "now we're stuck with her, thanks to your useless mercy and you don't know if—"
I stepped forward, only a step. I wasn't sure what I was going to say, but the one step alone was enough to draw their attention.
The female assessed me again, a predator assessing its prey. "You've either been very stupid or desperate. I can't choose which," she said. "You do know that you are as good as dead in this manor, do you? Faeries that live under this roof hate humans like you."
The brown-haired one said nothing, but his jaw tightened. As they studied me, I reached for my knife that wasn't there.
"Anyway," the golden-haired one continued, facing her companion again with a sneer. She would likely laugh if I ever drew a weapon on her. "Perhaps there's a way to—"
"Kallistê," my captor said quietly, the name echoing with a hint of a snarl. "Behave."
Kallistê went rigid but hopped off the edge of the table and curtseyed deeply to me. "My apologies, lady." Another joke at my expense. "I'm Kallistê. Court advisor of Elanor." She gestured to me with a flourish. "Your eyes are like molten silver, and your hair like the deepest of nights."
She cocked her head—waiting for me to give her my name. But I was quite sure she already knew mine, about my family and where I came from—
"Her name is Eleena," said the one in charge. He would have learned my name in the cottage. Those striking amber eyes met mine again and then flicked over to the door. "Willodean will take you to your room. You could use a bath and fresh clothes."
I couldn't decide if it was an insult or not. There was a firm hand at my elbow, and I flinched visibly. A rotund brown-haired woman in a simple white dress tugged on my arm and inclined her head towards the open door behind us. Her brown apron was crisp above her dress—a servant.
If they cared so much about their clothes, maybe they were shallow and vain enough for me to deceive. Still, they were Seelie Faeries, with their heightened senses and unimaginable powers. I would have to act well and be clever and bide my time to earn their trust. So I let Willodean lead me away. Room—not cell. A small relief then, though it didn't provide me with little comfort.
I'd barely made it a few steps away from the door when Kallistê snarled, "That's the human we have to deal with? This is a fool's mission." Her growl was more bitter than threatening. "Maybe we should just take a stand—maybe it's time to say enough. Dump the girl somewhere, kill her, I don't care—she's nothing but a burden here. She'd sooner put a knife in your back than talk to you—to any of us. For all we know she could be a—" I kept my breathing calm, my spine locking, and—
"No," the other bit out. "Not until we know for certain that there is no other way will we make a move. And as for the girl, she stays. Unharmed. She could help us with this ... situation. End of discussion. Her life in that miserable hovel was Hell enough." My cheeks heated as I absentmindedly tucked one of my black locks behind my ear. I loosed a tight breath and avoided looking at Willodean as I felt her eyes slide to me. A miserable hovel—I suppose you could say that when our cottage was compared to this place.
"Then you've got work cut out for you, old friend," Kallistê said. "I'm sure it wouldn't be as easy as you think it is—you are manipulating her, but you don't know if she will manipulate you."
A snarl of irritation resonated through the air.
The bright, spotless halls swallowed me up before I could hear more.