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Don’t get me wrong. It’s still awful, but I have some privacy.
Hey. I’ll take it.
It stinks that there aren’t any windows except for a few narrow ones up high long the aisle. The walkway outside of my cell is made of the same stone floor, with twinkling lights strung along the high ceiling providing the only real light. They can’t be electrical lights—there’s no electricity in Faerie—but they remind me of fairy lights.
Huh. Fairy lights.
Ah, Jesus. I’ve been in Faerie for a week and a half and I think I’ve finally lost it.
Hey. It was bound to happen eventually.
It isn’t long before I learn what it’s like to be an animal on display at the zoo.
The guards seem to find excuses to pass by my cell. Not just Dusk or Saxon, either. There’s always someone walking through my empty wing. At first, it wasn’t so bad. They brought me a prison uniform I refuse to put on, slipped a plate of food—including faerie fruit—through the gap at the bottom of my cell door, even offered me a jar full of crisp, clear water.
Once they make it obvious that they’re coming by just to gawk at the human? That’s rough. I mean, I expected it, but the interest coming off of the guards makes my skin crawl.
I’m so, so glad I learned to keep my real name to myself. Who knows what they would compel me to do if they had it?
I’m powerless here, and not just because I’m a prisoner. No… actually, that’s not true. I have a tiny bit of power since I’m a human. For the promise of a touch, I could probably ask for anything of the guards—except for freedom.
I can’t do it, though. All it would take is one touch and I’d lose any bargaining power I have.
The guards are all fae. All male. A majority of them are Seelie, with the same bronzed coloring and fair hair as Veron, Bram, and the fae captain. Dusk is a Dark Fae, one of the Unseelie. There are a few others like him who run the prison. He’s my most frequent visit
or, though, and I’m so grateful that iron bars keep me separated from him.
I know he can open my cell door with a whim. But, for some reason, he doesn’t. I keep hoping it stays that way. I barely slept at all my first night, terrified that I’d have an unwelcome visitor once the fairy lights winked out. There are a few torches along the wall; as soon as the sun goes down, magic has them springing to life. I can see a little, but not much.
Thank God no one shows up that first night after light’s out. Or the second.
And then, on my third day in Siúcra, I finally meet the guy who shares the wing with me.
I’ve been waiting all along for this. Two of the guards, Dusk and Saxon, purposely placed me in a cell opposite of someone they called the traitor. The human lover. There was enough of a sneer in the Unseelie’s voice for me to lose any hope that my fellow prisoner might be on my side.
I don’t know what to expect. The fairy jail holds all kinds of inmates, and while I’m the only human—and female—that I’ve come across in here, I walked past so many different creatures when they brought me to this empty wing.
I saw trolls that reminded me of Iggy and Binky. A male dwarf even older than Parlo, a trio of winged fairies that share a cell, and small monsters that might be goblins. I don’t know what the cute little thing with the fox tail and pointed ears was, and I still flinch when I think about it snapping its fangs at me.
The wing that led right into mine was nicer than the rest of the prison. Gilded cells, mirrors built into the walls, and honest-to-God beds inside the rooms. That was where they kept fae prisoners. Not too many, only a couple that I noticed. I can’t imagine what they did—since Dusk said the traitors and betrayers are in my wing—but except for the same crystal-coated iron bars, they look like suites instead of cells.
And then there’s my section. From what I can see from my corner, about six cells fill the space between each doorway, and each cell is set up exactly like mine: narrow cot, stone floor, and the magical toilet/sink/tub combo that reminds me that this is jail, but it’s fairy jail.
It’s late when they bring him back, not quite light’s out but close enough. I’m not so surprised when he turns out to be another fae. Unlike when I was brought to my cell, this prisoner is flanked by two guards: one Seelie, one Unseelie, neither familiar. Both of them have their swords at his back, but he’s not wearing handcuffs.
Interesting.
I wonder what that’s about?
He’s another Seelie. Like some of the other prisoners I’ve seen, he’s wearing a plain white jumpsuit that makes his skin seem more washed out than the vividly bronze shade that belongs to the other Light Fae. It’s more of a caramel color, dimmed to match the thick, tawny hair that spills down his back.
Long hair is the fashion for the fae. Some, like Veron and Saxon, wore it to their shoulders. Dusk’s pitch-black hair hits his chin. But the prisoner’s? His falls to the middle of his back and, Jesus, it’s a thing of freaking beauty.
I think of my hair. It’s originally a boring blonde color, but I’ve spent years dying it every crazy color you could think of. A couple of weeks before I walked through the fairy circle in the park, I put teal streaks throughout my hair. It was the cause of the fight that had me storming out on my boyfriend, and it’s one of the things that makes the faerie creatures wonder if I’m really human.
I’ve never dyed my hair such a rich tawny color, brown streaked with yellow with a hint of orange in it. Shame. It’s gorgeous.
And so is he.
