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It hits me like a tonne of stone carved out from the nearby caves.
Always, the ‘bounty’ he sought could have meant anything. There were no limitations to the apples—and just like the fae are known to be, he has twisted the bargain to now weigh heavily in his favour. Apples don’t suffice this year. But a human does.
Waves of sick roll over me.
Don’t know whether I’m going to faint or be sick all over the floor. Instead, the terror comes out in trembles that wrack my body and the tears that roll down my cheeks.
Distantly, I’m aware of hands on my shoulders as if to soothe me, and murmurs snaking all around me. But through the haze that clouds my entire being, I can’t make out much of anything. Maybe Mother pleading, or Amelia whispering soft reassurances to me, or Father offering other bounties in my place.
Whatever it is, it has no effect on the prince.
Through the glaze that steals my sight with tears, I see him stretch out his hand, offering it to me.
“Come.” That one, firmly spoken word rings through me like a bell struck. “You will have all that you require with me.”
With me...
What—what does he mean for me? What does he mean todoto me?
That sick wave washes over me once more, so forceful that I double over and clutch my empty stomach.
The prince loses his patience. He strides over to me in two brisk steps, and steals my arm in his vice-like grip.
I’m pulled up from the seat so quickly that the chair topples over.
He gives me no time for goodbyes.
I can only manage a wild glance around at my family before I’m being dragged out of the farmhouse and into the fading Warmth outside.The Quiet is coming.
Already, I hear the beginnings of it outside. No chirping birds, no slithering or slapping sounds of morke on the edge of the gateway boundaries, not even the skittering of a bug rushing over a twig.
It’s dead silent until the prince steps onto the gravel, and his silver-toed leather boots crunch against the small stones.
He takes me to his steed. I’ve seen these beasts many times before, mostly in the village, but they never fail to strike a thick, sickly feeling through me. There’s something ghostly about them, the way their greying leathery skin clings to their skeletal forms, and the razored tail at their rears swing like the whips that the dark fae use against us humans in the village street.
I wrap my free arm around myself as he pauses beside his steed. The Quiet brings with it a slight iciness in the air—not as dreadful as the Chill—and already, with the dread piling up inside of me, my skin has pebbled.
The prince turns to me, and it just happens—
“Please,” I whisper, my voice a mere croak. “Please, let me go.”
He shifts the cloak from his arm before stretching it out. To my faint surprise, he throws it around my back, then fixes it over my shoulders. He fastens the strings at the front as the weight of the cloak pulls down on me.
Once it’s snug on me, he snatches my chin and brings his face to mine. His breath is a warm breeze on my flesh. “Speak when spoken to, human. Never out of turn.”
I’m suddenly aware of the sheer dampness of my face as tears rain down my cheeks. Even the tip of my nose is wet as I manage a faint nod.
Satisfied, he releases the pinch of his grip from my chin, then reaches for my waist.
I yelp as he lifts me up from the ground and sets me on his bony horse.
As he jumps up to sit behind me and take the reins, I twist around and look back at my home.
At the doorway, my mother weeps into her hands. Beside her, Father stands utterly defeated, his eyes flooded with enough worry to match my own.
Amelia and Milan watch from the open window. And even Milan wears a grim face that I feel deep in my soul.
The prince gives me no more moments to look upon what I leave behind so suddenly. With a lash of the reins, the steed jolts into a trot and the prince wraps his arm around my waist firmly. He holds me in place, nothing tender or caring about the way he enfolds me. And that loosens some tension from me.
