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In the woods
California
The man stood unnaturally still before the stone, as if he was an unchanging, immutable part of nature himself. One could have mistaken him for a statue, if not for the single tear running down his pale cheek.
“You don’t know what it’s like out there. Empty. Hollow. The fates have long left our land. You took them with you.”
The low, deep words weren’t in English, nor were they spoken in any language known to man, but anyone standing right there with him would have understood.
He moved like a shadow, too fast and smooth. One moment he towered over the granite boulder; the next, he was seated with his back against it, his head hanging in his hand.
“I can’t do it alone. There’s no controlling any of it. The courts, the monsters, the gods. The world itself is starved, and at the brink of destruction. And I alone see it.Feel it.” There was a hint of despair in the dark, melodious voice. “It’s a curse, the blood of the elders. It brings nothing but sorrow.”Anger and frustration tinged each word. “If I die, our world will descend into chaos. And I will die if I have to spend much longer shouldering it all alone, little one.”
Then there was silence for a moment, followed by a weak, barely there murmur. “You have to wake up. I need you. We all do.”
It sounded like a prayer more than a plea, half whispered, barely hoped.
Then the man in his worn, dark leather duffle coat stood just as eerily as he’d sat, and stepped away, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
He’d long learned that wishing was as useless as screaming when there was nothing and no one to listen.
Pointless.
He’d be back in a hundred years. He always came to see the child sleeping in the dark stone, protected by spells nothing in this world could ever break, many of which were of his own making.
The air shifted as he reached the borders of the wood, and the next moment, he was gone.
He never heard the newborn’s first cries piercing the darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I SHOULD PERHAPS STOP TALKING
Darina
I challenged them because I didn’t think either of them would comply—not for a second.
I thought it would be a good way to end the nonsensical talk of heirs and crowns. They were supposed to refuse and I could have replied,See?! I’m definitely not any queen’s spawn.
In my fantasy, they’d just sigh, nod, and take me home. I’d pretend none of this ever happened. The fairies, the other world, the rapey assholes I encountered along the way. I’d learn to be content with my routine, to admire Rachel’s boring life and tedious fiancé. I’d aspire to a life just like that. That was what was supposed to happen.
Now, I have no idea what to do with those two great, dangerous fae lords at my feet. Ask for a pedicure?
A wave of unease rushes through me. They’re freaking me out. I shouldn’t have made them do this. I don’t have any right to.
“Well, don’t just stay down there,” I mutter awkwardly, fast regretting whatever instinct pushed me to bring them low.
I start to pace back and forth, doing my best to fight the urge to keep glancing at my reflection—and failing multiple times. I can fix this. Ican.
Somehow?
Ryther is the first to stand, and now he’s back on his feet, towering over me again, my anxiety recedes a fraction. Still, I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. Something tells me I’ll pay for making him kneel. Seeing the confirmation in his gaze would do little for my frayed nerves.
“No one has to know,” I whisper to myself, then the words really hit.
That’s it. That’s my solution. It seems obvious, come to think of it. I even manage a smile.
“No one else knows, right? So you can take me home.” I nod to myself emphatically. “Drop me off at a hairdresser. I can tape my ears to my skull, or whatever.”
