Page 4 of The Court the Fae Forgot
Fae.
They were going on about the fae. And not, I realized as I finally forced myself to leave the fruit forgotten where it lay, not justanyfae.
They were talking about the fae now stepping out of a gilded carriage at the other end of the square, not a dozen yards from me. I’d never seen a fae before, but even without the steadily increasing whispers I’d have known in an instant what he was.
I don’t know what I expected a fae to look like, but it wasn’t this.
There were no great, batlike wings sprouting from his back or horns curling from his head. There was no cruel scowl on his face, no ominous shadow that followed him with every step. His back wasn’t hunched, his fingers clawed, or eyes darkened with disgust and rage.
He was, instead, the most beautiful creature I’d ever laid eyes on.
My fingers dug into my pocket to curl around the scrap of ribbon tucked within, an anxious habit I’d formed long before I knew I was reaching for a comfort I’d never find. Still, at times like this, when my heartbeat quickened and my breaths shortened, I found myself reaching for the frayed golden fabric, as if the pattern of winding and unwinding the short length between my fingers could hold back the surge of fear welling up so quickly inside me.
The fae towered over the humans in the crowd, his back straight and shoulders strong as any laborer. His skin glowed a creamy caramel the same color as the tips of his short, sun-kissed locks, as if his very being had captured the setting sun. Dark brows contrasted eyes the color of that same sun, a gold so bright that they glittered like newly-minted coins inside his skull. Though his clothes were fine, they looked like rags contrasted against his natural beauty.
I’d always wondered how the fae came to rule our world. All our tales told of war and famine and plagues … but one look at this fae, and I knew the true reason why.
He was, in a word,irresistible.
He could have asked for my life, and I’d have gladly given it to him without question.
I’d have given him anything.
More than his beauty, however, was the power that preceded him. I didn’t need to see the sword pulled from the scabbard at his side to know he could overpower me, kill me even, before I’d had the chance to fight him off. I didn’twantto fight him off. Every instinct in my body told me to run or to give in.
But, since my nature was unfamiliar with either of those things, I instead froze in awe with the rest of the market square.
Every footstep stopped in its tracks, every tongue stilled, even the birds overhead quieted their song as the gorgeous, golden-haired fae surveyed the dirty stretches of the square. He examined his surroundings with a distaste that didn’t suit his features, eyes scanning the shocked faces of the villagers one by one until they came to rest, at long last, on me.
We locked eyes, and in that instant, time itself seemed to stop, too.
He didn’t just lookatme. He lookedintome. He looked at me as no one had ever looked at me before, as if he truly saw me, a part of me that I’d never known myself until that very moment. Something deep inside me began to stir, something awakening like a great creature from its slumber.
I didn’t know how long the moment lasted, or if this was some kind of spell he cast on every human that met his gaze. All I knew was that for an eternity we were locked together, the only movement that of the fae’s hand slowly opening at his side, his fingers stretching out before closing again in a tight fist.
Then, all at once, that eternity ended.
That’s when it came back—the dread, the draw to the Wildness, the thing that had been tugging at me all day—but this time, it wasn’t a hum, it wasn’t a simple swell of emotion, of something feelingoff.
This time it came back as a tidal wave that knocked me off my feet. Whatever it was, it crashed over me, into me, with such force that I feared for a second that my very soul had left my body. Something inside me ripped open, raw and burning, and in that moment something else rushed in like salt pouring into my open wounds.
My mouth wrenched open in a scream, but no sound came out. There was no air in my lungs.
That thing that the fae had stirred inside me roared to life with a blinding, all-consuming pain.
All around me, the crowd parted. Faces stared down in horror, but no one so much as reached out a hand to help me. I laid in the mud, my body and soul screaming without sound, and no one so much as reached out a hand to me.
The wave finally dulled, ebbing back just long enough for me to draw in half a breath and roll over to vomit out the scarce contents of my stomach. Once the single bite of apple had vacated my body, I continued to cough and dry heave until every bit of bile now mingled in the mud.
Only then did I have the strength to look up and see why none of the villagers I’d known all my life had reached out to help me. Only then did I see why they betrayed me like this.
It was because they were reaching out to help the one person who needed them more.
The one person whom they needed as much as they feared him, as much as they hated him.
The fae, like me, had been thrown to the ground by whatever still hummed at the back of my mind. He kneeled on his knees on the ground, his hands dug into the mud as if he too struggled to barely hold himself above the mire that had stained his far finer garments. His face had paled, turned ashy from exertion and—I dared to wonder—was it, fear?
His lips parted, teeth bared, eyes still locked on mine as hatred and disgust rattled through him. “What have you done?”
