Listening to shallow rasps of my little sister's breathing, I recall feeling helpless. I was eight, but my sister was only four, having experienced half of the life I'd been blessed with. She couldn't be taken from us so soon. She just couldn't.
I prayed every night. And unfortunately, something answered.
A child making a deal with a faerie is a horrendous thing, for the fae know how to speak a vicious truth. That is, they know how to manipulate, to cheat, to scheme, to get their way when you're convinced you are making a fair trade. A trade with the fae is never fair, and my parents had told me that many times. But the desperation of a child is relentless, and when they offered, I accepted.
My little sister Amelia awoke the next day fully restored, though still tired from her 'miraculous recovery'. Little did I know, my deal for half of my life, an obvious and fair trade at the time, I'd thought, would not be as I had imagined it. Instead, for the first time that night, the fae came to me. I shared a room with my sister, but she lay fast asleep when the portal to the Otherworld opened and the fae shook me awake.
"It is time, child," she whispered.
I was confused, but still had the innocent trust of a child, even with the fae. And I took her hand and followed her back to her homeland.
It was nighttime there as well, but instead of a tranquil evening with stars overhead, I stepped into a party. All in attendance wore gowns and suits, drinking sparkling, colorful cocktails, conversing and laughing and dancing to the orchestra in the corner. They love to dance, the fae. I felt out of place in my nightgown.
I was led into the kitchen by the hand and the woman motioned to another child, a few years my elder. "You are to do as they say. Your work begins now."
"My work?" I asked in confusion. Others were busy around the extensive kitchen with various tasks, some children, some older, none paying me any attention.
"You traded half your life to the fae," the faerie told me, her voice slow and mocking. "Did you think we would do something as foolish as take you halfway through a guess of a lifetime? You will be working off your part of the deal in this kitchen, every night."
In shock, I didn't move or respond as she turned on her heel and left me.
"There's no time to realize what you've gotten yourself into," said the boy in front of me, taking me by the shoulders to draw my full attention. "Understand? You do as I say. I know you're tired, but that doesn't matter. You will work. When you're back home, you are to explain to your parents that you made a deal. They will realize what has happened and they will help you. All right?"
Blinking sleep from my eyes, I nodded. I focused on the bright lights of the kitchen that first night, trying to convince myself that it was daytime, but it barely worked. Only the stubborn energy I had as a child kept me awake. I walked almost constantly, with trays of drinks or food, refilling glasses, being flagged down like the waiter I was.
At the end of the night, as the sun peeked over the horizon and the party dissipated, many of the slaves formed a line through the kitchen. Half conscious, I joined in, even though I didn't know what the purpose was. But that question was answered quickly - the fae who had brought me here created portals for each of us to return to our homes.
A thought bubbled up in the back of my mind that I only later comprehended: many of them had stayed behind. I wondered what could have gotten them such a horrible trade, a life of slavery, instead of just nights, and for a moment even found myself grateful.
I walked into my bedroom as the sun shined in through the window, and I faintly grasped the fact that my family must be awake. My father rose at dawn for work in the king's court, my sister for school, and my mother to cook breakfast. I went directly toward my bed, already letting myself slide toward sleep mentally, but then I heard a shout.
"Evelyn!" My mother rushed into my room and swept me into my arms. "Where did you come from? Where have you been?"
My dazed eyes met hers and I did as the elder child had instructed me. I told the truth. "I was serving the fae," I murmured. "I gave half my life in exchange for Amelia's life. I think they tricked me."
Horror spread across my mother's face and my father, who had rushed in behind her, went white. "You did what?" my mother breathed. She didn't wait for an answer, grabbing me in a hug tightly instead.
"Mama, I'm tired," I said quietly.
She let out a long breath and nodded. "All right. Sleep, sweetheart, to bed with you."
I trudged over to my bed, curled up under my covers, and slipped into blissful sleep.
When I woke, it wasn't quite dark yet but reddish colors out my window promised sunset soon. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling deep in thought, for a few minutes. I was only eight, but I knew one thing for sure: there was no wiggling out of a deal with the fae. Everyone knew that. So, it was just a matter of adjusting to my new life. It was worth it for Amelia, of course it was. I would just need to sleep during the day, that's all. And I could still see my family, I wasn't trapped in the Otherworld like some of those other poor souls.
Eventually my stomach grumbled forcefully enough to push me out from under my covers and into the living room. To my surprise, my father and mother were both there on the couch, father home from work early, and a stranger sat in a chair they'd brought in from the kitchen. The stranger rose as I entered the room.
"Evelyn, it's a pleasure to meet you." He walked over and held out a hand, which I politely shook. "I'm Lieutenant Sharpton."
The man was dressed similar to those I'd seen in the king's guard, but there were subtle signs that his attire was more for practical application in a fight than the formal dress of guards at the gates of the castle. His boots were scuffed, his clothes black and brown instead of red and gold, and the weapon at his side, a sword, stood out in that the handle was worn, as if from constant use. The swords I'd seen before were always pristine, suggesting the bearer only needed the implied threat of violence to prevent an enemy's attack.
"Pleased to meet you," I said softly, bowing slightly. I turned to my mother. "Mama, I'm quite hungry."
Her eyes widened and she leapt to her feet. "Of course, you poor child! Sit on the couch, sit, I'll bring you some bread and milk." She rushed off to the kitchen and I did as I was told.
Sharpton likewise retook his seat, staring at me, straight-backed. "You're a brave girl, you know."
I let out a breath and shook my head, my gaze falling to my lap. "I'm foolish."
"Yes, child. But. Look at me." I did so. "You put the life of your sister above your own, and while your attempt to bargain with a fae was foolish, you are very brave. I wanted to make sure you know that."
"All right," I murmured.
"But you must understand, this is a worse situation you find yourself in than you believe."
My eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
Sharpton looked to my father, who came over and sat beside me, taking my hands. "Evelyn…Amelia is dead."
I froze in disbelief, looking back and forth between the two men, before leaping to my feet and yanking my hands from my father's. "No. No! I saw her, she was better-"
"What you saw was a changeling," my father choked out. Tears came to my eyes and my lower lip quivered with the threat of tears. "It was a trick. The fae, they have tongues like the Devil, and they let you hear what you wished to hear in order to bargain with you."
"No," I whimpered.
"Amelia…" My father took a breath to steady his voice. "She was not long for this world. They will have taken her and…disposed of her body in the Otherworld when she passed."
My hand went to my head, feeling like the room was spinning, and suddenly my father was by my side to steady me. He helped me back over to the sofa and I started crying. The cries turned to sobs as I buried my face in his chest, my tears soaking into his shirt.
When my tears subsided, I looked up to see bread on the table and, despite my ruined appetite, my stomach directed me to consume everything in front of me. I did so, the simple bread and milk tasting more divine than any I'd ever had before. The adults sat around me in silence until I finished.
"Evelyn," Sharpton said softly. "We are going to try to get you your life back."
My fingers curled nervously in my nightgown, looking to my parents, who gave me encouraging looks. "The king has had plans to fight back against the fae for some time," my mother told me, squeezing in next to me on the sofa. "This is the opportunity he's been looking for."
"But…you can't break a bargain with the fae," I said, shaking my head. "Everyone knows that."
"Not traditionally," Sharpton spoke. "But the fae don't yet know of certain changes in our world. They dislike it here for our weapons of iron, but rifles? Rifles will change things. A new war will not be one they can win. And this advantage is one we need to push strongly and decisively, not to break a bargain, but to forge a new one. One that will protect mankind for generations."
I sniffled, wiping my nose. "What do I do?"
"You won't do anything, really," he told me. "You will simply stand at my side. But we will be far from alone."
The man spoke the truth. Under the dark of night but lit by a thousand torches, soldiers marched behind us, too many for my small form to take in. Sharpton led the way, grasping my small hand gently in his. Rather than my nightgown, I wore my casual day clothes: a dress and comfortable shoes for a busy day out in the country. And in the back of my mind, despite the force we had at our backs, I worried that the magic and strength of the fae would be too great to defeat. And I was grateful for the shoes that would keep my feet from getting sore in my service to the fae that coming night.
The fae had told me they would come fetch for me for my service every night and I had been worried they'd not be able to find me, but Sharpton assured me they would. There was no running from the fae, of course. They would come to us.
Father had taken note of the time I'd returned that previous morning, and we arrived at the edge of a large clearing adjacent to the imposing sight of the castle to our south with a quarter of an hour to spare. The soldiers stood at the ready, each with a rifle, each in military dress. It wasn't because we were going to war, Sharpton had explained to me. I needn't anticipate cowering as gunfire thundered in the air around me. This was a show of force, a declaration that this was a line in the sand, and they would not stand for fae aggression any longer.
Then, just as he'd predicted, the air split into a curtain, folding left and right to allow the faerie through. And to my astonishment, she looked just as alarmed as Sharpton had said she would.
"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. The fae took in the area in which she found herself, looking over the soldiers and the castle, her eyes growing gradually wider.
"This is a proposition for a bargain," Sharpton told her. "Are you one that can speak for your kind?"
The woman's eyes slowly narrowed into slits. "I speak for my people."
"Can you speak on behalf of the entire fae species?" the soldier repeated.
Her lips pursed and she paused. "I cannot."
"I request audience with someone who does."
Her eyes flashing angrily, but still warily taking in the expanse of soldiers before her, she nodded once sharply and turned, darting back the way she had come, the portal vanishing behind her.
I waited a few moments before looking up to Sharpton, then around to the soldiers. This was what it needed to be, I supposed. My bargain with the fae had been nothing like this. It had been a conversation, a small, weepy, desperate girl overcome with love for her sister. This was the opposite. It was what I'd imagined happened inside the walls of the castle when foreign dignitaries came to visit, when treaties were negotiated that young ones like me later learned of in school. This was above and beyond anything I had ever, and probably would ever, experience.
The minutes ticked by and eventually another woman opened a portal and came through, followed by the woman who had gone to fetch her. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I might have seen her at the party I had attended the previous night. She was a striking beauty, but there was no warmth about her, just sharp edges. A layered blue dress clung tightly to her and her hair was done up with curls and alight with sparkles with a delicate tiara perched atop it. And slung across her shoulder, to my surprise, was a strap that led down to a sheath for a sword.
"I was told my presence was requested," the woman spoke. Unlike her subordinate, this woman took the soldiers before her in stride.
"I come on behalf of my species to bargain with yours," Sharpton told her.
"Is that so?" Dim fury burned in her eyes. "What have you come to bargain with?"
"Not with. For. I've come to bargain for a treaty of peace. We demand the fae cease with the kidnapping of our children for slavery. Our children are not to be used as tools of war, taken from their homes after making bargains they do not comprehend. It will cease, starting with the child at my side and any you currently have in your possession. Or we will consider it an act of war."
The fae let out a harsh breath through her nose and I saw her fists clench. "The last occasion you attempted to go to war with the fae, both our armies burned and we fell at a stalemate. Are you willing to sacrifice thousands more on that fruitless endeavor?"
"May I strike down the fae at your side?" Sharpton asked candidly.
The subordinate fae's eyes bulged in shock and then she coughed out a breath of surprise. "I am unarmed, my own sword is back at my residence, and surely you don't expect me to use the sword of my queen."
"I need not move from my position," Sharpton replied. His gaze briefly went to the subordinate, then to the queen. "If I can strike down your subordinate dead from where I stand, will you bargain?"
The queen gazed at the human man before her for a long moment before looking to the woman at her side. The woman met her queen's gaze and then closed her eyes briefly and nodded in deference. I took a sharp breath. The woman would die. She was giving permission to let Sharpton kill her?
"I will," the queen said. Her voice wasn't quite a sneer, but it was clear to me she had no idea what was going on. I did not wish to witness death, but my voice caught in my throat. My parents' faces appeared in my mind, instructing me to trust the soldier, to do as he said, and to make sure that whatever happened, I returned home safely. So, I forced myself to hold my tongue.
Sharpton released my right hand and I let it drop to my side before clasping it tightly with my left. He then took the rifle from the strap it hung from, a device that surely the queen did not recognize as any weapon she'd seen before. He tucked the butt of the rifle to his shoulder, aimed for the woman at the queen's side. And he fired.
The noise was like nothing I'd ever heard, and I yelped in surprise, flinching and covering my ears with my hands. The act did nothing to subside the ringing in my ears, though, and I grimaced, suddenly imagining what it would be like to be amongst a torrent of firing rifles, as soldiers did in war. It was a mindboggling thought.
Then my mind was brought back to the present as my gaze, which had flinched away, went back to the two women before me. The queen stared in shock, which melted slowly into horror, at the woman beside her.
The fae wobbled a bit, her fingers going to her chest, brushing up against the bullet hole. Blood leaked profusely from the wound and her fingers were painted a severe red in the torchlight. "My queen?" she managed. Then her arms made a vague motion as if to steady herself, but it did no good. Her knees gave out and she collapsed to the ground with a dull thud.
With wide, horrified eyes, I watched the woman die. The soldier's aim had been true, and her death was quick, but that made no difference to me. I'd seen death before, but I'd never seen anyone die, not even an animal. My stomach felt queasy and I put my hand to my mouth, holding my breath. I refused to distract the soldier beside me from his purpose. This was a time to show strength, my father had said, and I refused to let this death overtake me.
Swiftly and casually, Sharpton slung the rifle back over his shoulder. "This is the first of a weapon we will be perfecting," he told the queen, drawing her eyes, bright with fury and offense. "What it will become is a warrior's sword compared to the sharpened stick you just witnessed. But already, our armies are supplied with them. Every soldier you see in front of you is armed with one. And every single one can take down a fae with one blow." He paused briefly. "I could take you down with one blow."
"You wouldn't dare," she hissed.
"I wouldn't yet," he responded. "As I said a few moments ago, I've come to bargain for a treaty of peace. Now. We will bargain."