Beatrice snorts, turning to her first mate. Then she really laughs. They laugh together. Loud, boisterous, 'we don't believe a word you just said' laughs. The table quakes as the captain grips it's edge to hold herself steady.
"It's true!" I look to Lincoln. He rolls his eyes.
Don't worry about their disbelief, we don't need to prove anything to them. We'll just retrieve the stupid piece they need for their ship and be on our way home.
His words do little to reassure me.
"We are supposed to believe that he is half God?" Beatrice points a ring clad finger. "I don't see his name written in the Bible."
"No, not the human God," I mumble. Maybe this is a lost cause. "It's beside the point." I clap my hands together. "How do we get these parts for you?"
"Tell me this before we continue, Fae girl. How do you know they are half human?"
"The wings. They are a mutation. Anything half Fae has them. Humans just happen to be the most common species that the Fae...mingle with."
"And where are his wings?"
"They--ah..." I glance towards Lincoln.
He sighs, unfolding his arms to run his hands up and down the length of his thighs as he talks. "The queen I served was not in favor of this distinct difference between those of us who are half-breeds and full-blooded Fae. She had my wings torn from my body. That's the two major markings on my back." The chair against the floor is the only sound in the room as he pushes it back and stands. He turns offering a view of his back.
Scabs still cut across his flesh from the whipping he had undertaken, but it is still clear where his wings once were. Were they as beautiful as him? I can't help but wonder.
"Very well." Beatrice points to the map. "To get the pieces I reckon' you'll need to send the girl here in as bait."
Bait?
"I'm sorry, what?" I stutter.
Four
King of the Shadow Fae
The sheen of sweat shines over Lincoln's back. It's all I can focus on. Somewhere inside my head I'm lost in the memory of his wings being torn from his back. I didn't ask before I began trifling through his mind. In all honesty, I hardly noticed the difference between his mind and mine until the memory came crashing in with full force against my mind’s eye.
Cordelia didn't use sedatives. She didn't even give him something to bite on.
When someone is in pain they scream. But Lincoln couldn't scream. He didn't have the energy to. His mouth fell open, his whole body weak, nothing but a breath fell from his speechless lips. Tears streamed down his cheeks in two steady lines that came together to drip off his chin. Blood covered his back. So much blood. Did it ever have an end?
"I'm not sure why you do that to yourself." Lincoln holds back a branch.
Sand gathers in the cuffs of the pants I was able to get from the crew. They practically made me beg for them and complained when I explained holes would need to be cut in the top for my wings to emerge.
"Do what?" I purse my lips.
"Force yourself to live through every torment I've endured. You don't see me picking through your mind and reliving every terrible home you stayed in."
Light is quickly fading. The sun is almost completely hidden by the horizon. The slightest hue of orange slices through the trees and casts itself over Lincoln's face. His golden gaze glows like the hoard of pirate treasure onboard the old ship. His free hand traces the rough stubble along his chin.
"Guess I'm just a glutton for punishment."
"You could say that again."
Ziko moves around me once I'm on the other side of the tree and out of sight of the beach. Warm gusts of wind shift up the shore, coming from the expanse of ocean, rustling the leaves. There is a soft caw of birds somewhere just out of sight. Still, the rest of the forest remains quiet.
Even our steps hardly make a sound. Lincoln doesn't have to think about moving with such stealth. Though my body is now capable of moving without noise, I, on the other hand, have to think about my steps and easing my body to balance in just the right way over the tanglement that covers the forest floor.
"How far out do you think that camp is?" I strain to hear any signs of the Fae band.
"I don't know. You have any idea how much 'about a hundred paces' is for an old pirate?"
His half-mouth smirk makes a bushel of butterflies take flight in my stomach. How long has he known how handsome he is? I wonder at what age he looked in the mirror and his head swelled with arrogance and confidence.
"No. We may have our humanity in common but they lived in an entirely different era than me."
Lincoln hops over a small divot in the land, the top of it covered with fallen leaves. He offers me his hand, closing his fist for a minute before his jaw tenses and he reaches back out. I place my hand in his gently as I jump the hole without a sound, quick to pull my hand away once I land.
"This outfit is much more suited for you," he acknowledges with the short bob of his chin.
"Yeah?" I whisper. "You like this better than the ragged gown?"
"Well, I like you best in hardly any clothes." He speaks with his own chuckle but his brows pull together quickly after as if he is rethinking the statement. "You may be a queen, but pants... they bring out a confidence in you that is fiercer than when you're in one of those gowns."
"Dresses can be so restrictive. How am I supposed to turn into this badass woman who kicks ass and takes her crown back in a fucking dress?"
"It's just a shame I can't see your legs through them. Though if I close my eyes I can still picture you in the first dress fashioned in your old apartment."
His eyes press closed and the vision of my appalled face looking down at my half nakedness flashes through his mind. The image of my naked body is quick to follow.
"Woah, woah, woah." I hold up my hands. "You can't just picture me naked whenever you want."
"What? Why not? The memory sits right there." He taps a finger against his temple. "It's the benefits of being your lover. I can imagine you without your clothes at any point in time. Like now."
Memories fill my head of his body rough and hot grinding against mine. The way my breasts bounce with every thrust. I shake my head dissolving the image with my own demand.
I'll be fucking pissed if Lincoln gives us away because he gets me all hot and bothered in this forest and I release all those pheromones that scream 'fuck me'.
"So does that mean I can picture you naked? Whenever I want? A conversation mid-day and all I can focus on is your schlong?"
"It is impressive isn't it?"
A bird takes flight from the branches above us. I snap my attention up to the canopy of trees but Lincoln moves on unfazed. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd been aware of the creature the entire time, even while I was focused elsewhere.
It's easier to tune out some of my Fae reflexes. The ones that can become overwhelming. But maybe I'm putting myself in more danger by doing so.
"I wouldn't go as far as to say that..." I tease.
"You wouldn't?" But everything on his face says he knows I'm lying. Of course I am. And of course he knows I am, the man has access to every part of my mind.