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Damn it. For the first time since I’ve been stranded in Faerie, I wish I had my easel with me. My paints. Even a pencil or paper would do. WhenI look at him, I want to paint him. Draw him. Anything.
When I look at him, I’m inspired.
And I know in a heartbeat that I’m in even more trouble than before.
His name is Rys.
He doesn’t tell me. In fact, apart from glaring across the way at me for a few minutes after they force him at swordpoint to go back into his cell, he doesn’t seem to act as if I’m here at all. One of the guards used that name when he was talking to the prisoner so I figure it’s his.
He goes right to his cot. His feet come to the edge of it, his toes hanging over it. Since there’s at least half a foot left on mine when I stretch out, I put him at more than six feet tall. Long and limber and lean, just like the other fae.
Except for his faded coloring and his clothes, there’s only one noticeable difference between the prisoner and one of the Seelie guards. I don’t notice until the next morning, when it’s bright out and I can see his whole face in sharp relief.
Last night, he kept part of his face shadowed. Considering the glimpse I got revealed that he—like every other fae I’ve met—was inhumanly beautiful, I didn’t understand why he was hiding his left side from me. I didn’t even really pick up on it, either, since he went straight to his cot without a word.
In the morning? I see it.
He has a scar.
Not a tiny one, either. It’s, uh, pretty big.
It starts near the corner of his eye, crossing the height of his cheek down to the top of his lip. It’s maybe… three inches long? Bumpy. A faded pink slash in his tanned face.
Every fae I’ve met in Faerie has an otherworldly quality to them. Makes sense. They’re from Faerie which is a whole other world, isn’t it? But that’s the thing. They’re perfection come to life, and whether it’s some kind of magic glamour or not, I’ve never seen a fae with a mark like that. I didn’t think it was possible. Nothing hurts them except for iron, and they’re basically immortal.
What can cause a scar like that on one of the fae?
I instantly want to know the answer to that at the same time that I accept that I will never ask.
He catches me gawking at him. I know he does. A dark look flashes across his handsome face as he moves away from the bars. Without a word, he heads to the magic toilet /shadow box in his own cell. A few seconds later, his uniform appears hanging over the side.
He must be showering. I don’t hear any water, but that’s part of the magic, I guess. Once the door on the side closes, no one knows what you’re doing in there.
I broke down and took my first full shower last night before they brought him to his cell. I’d been freshening up, too afraid to get fully naked just in case. It’s been so long since I’ve been all the way clean and I couldn’t stand it any longer. I don’t need another shower just yet, but I have to pee. I jump inside my own box, do my business, and wash my hands while he’s still in his.
I’m the only one out when the guard comes by with a morning meal. It’s an Unseelie guard, one who barely looks at me as he shoves my plate under my door. He kicks the other plate into Rys’s cell, snickering when half the food lands on the floor.
I grab my plate and bring it over to my cot. I dig in, waiting for Rys to reappear from his magic box. I noticed when I sat down that his jumpsuit was gone. He must be getting dressed again.
A few minutes later, he steps back into his cell. His long hair is damp, finger-combed to settle down his back. His feet are bare; unlike me, he didn’t put his boots back on after he showered. He moves gracefully across the space, a spark in his strangely golden eyes as he sees the spilled plate.
I swallow the last bite of my peach, then clear my throat. “Um, it was an Unseelie guard. He wasn’t too gentle with your food.”
“They never are. I’m used to it.”
I blink.
I don’t know what I expected his voice to sound like, but it’s not that. Maybe it’s the glare, maybe it’s the scar, but I thought he’d sound… I don’t know, rough? It’s not. There’s a lilt to it that’s almost alluring, a soft, cultured tone that seems to put my nerves at ease.
No one who sounds like that can be bad.
I feel super guilty all of a sudden, not like it’s my fault or anything. Still. I know the Unseelie guard did that on purpose and so does Rys. He’s bigger than I am, too, and I d
on’t know if they fed him wherever he was last night. He might need to eat more than me.
“Hey, I can save you some of mine if you want. There was a lot and it didn’t touch the floor.” I eye the distance between our cells. “I should be able to slide it to you without making a mess.”
“Don’t bother. This is enough.” He picks up his plate, then frowns when he sees that, while I offered him some of my food, it’s already half gone. “I wouldn’t have eaten that if I was you. You won’t like what happens.”
