Without a word, I took a careful step back and watched as the lesser fae carried his drinks off to his companions from the north. He’d probably come as a servant to the Wind Court king.
The Marsh Court ballroom was capacious, with plenty of room for every fae who lived there. I searched for my king among the crowd. He was easy enough to find with his round belly and shining crown. I’d always thought he looked kind with his rosy cheeks and infectious smile, until I saw him murder three lesser fae servants for spilling a heaping tray of food all over the head table. Sure, he was kind. Until he wasn’t.
My father said he was known for being a fair ruler, and I should thank my lucky stars I lived in his kingdom, but as I grew into an older female, I learned to make my own judgements; the Marsh Court had proven to be far less fair in recent years. It was a kingdom where middle-class high fae were still invited to the revelry, even if I didn’t really want to be there, but if you looked at someone wrong, you’d be killed. Still, in some kingdoms, anyone less than high fae was a servant and would never be seen as anything else.
At the head of the room, upon a raised platform, sat four gilded thrones. One for each court. King Coro, of the Marsh Court sat in his, the largest, and next to him was Queen Morwena of the sea. The other royals were only visitors, but our king always rolled out the red carpet for them. Though, he would never be upstaged.
If kingdoms were given away for beauty, Morwena would rule them all. Most high fae were alluring, but Morwena was jaw dropping. I knew I was beautiful, but when I looked at her, I felt as appealing as a potato. Morwena’s hair flowed white, like the caps of the ocean, and her eyes were as blue as glaciers, unlike the dull gray of my own; in fact, the only thing that wasn’t beautiful on Morwena was her smile. When she smiled, pure evil poured from her. Something so cruel could never be beautiful. Morwena was not a fae you wanted to cross paths with. Ever. I left the last ball covered in the blood of a lesser fae who she murdered because she could hear him breathing. I was standing far too close to him when her knife flew through the room and stuck right in his throat. Pure. Evil.
In Alewyn, all faeries were not created equal. You were either high fae or lesser, there was no in-between, and Gods help you if you were a lesser. The high fae, like my family, were usually tall, beautiful faeries with perfectly pointed ears and gentle features. The lesser fae were the creatures and hybrids of Alewyn: tree people and winged races, horned males and serpent ladies, and a plethora of other faeries that nightmares could hardly fathom. Though there were handsome lesser fae. The northern king had a collection of them that traveled with him. All beautiful
My eyes shifted to the open throne beside her. She was not married. Rumor had it, she would soon be betrothed to King Autus of the northern Wind Court, but that was just the talk of the folk. Nothing had been announced. A rumor was rarely spread without some truth behind it, though. But, how could the sea marry the wind? Surely, they were not mated. Even for the high fae, it was somewhat rare to find your mate. Royalty should wait for that kind of bond. Sometimes, I wondered if my parents were secretly mated. They adored each other to a sickening degree.
A shout across the crowded room caused my attention to snap to King Autus. I’d bet anything someone was about to die. The music paused, the dancing stopped, and the entire room fell silent. His angry roar had frozen every guest in place, and I watched as he crossed the floor to a lesser fae. Even though it was nearly summer, and our land had warm temperatures during this time of year, he still carried himself wrapped in furs on his towering frame. It was completely unnecessary, but I decided years ago he did this to appear even larger than he was.
“Kneel,” he commanded.
The small fae, who was a quarter of my own height, likely half pixie, sank to the marbled floor. Her body tremored as she panted for breath, panicking.
“I’m s-sorry my king,” she whispered. “It will n-never happen again.”
For the briefest of moments, she turned in my direction and our eyes locked. I held my breath, knowing the outcome. Having witnessed this far too many times, I had to look away.
“No,” he answered. “It won’t.” Without pause, he brought the sword down on the pixie female, and her body crumbled to the hard ground.
“Autus, my dear, what’s the matter?” Morwena’s toneless voice called from across the great room.
He looked at the pixie’s body, raised his cup in the air and said simply, “She ran out of wine to fill my cup.” He dropped the glass and, as it shattered, walked away, causing the room to spring back into motion, as if we hadn’t all just witnessed murder.
I watched the room to see if anyone looked even slightly bothered, but they didn’t. What was a gathering of the folk without at least one death, anyway? I decided that was my cue to leave. I could never refuse an invitation to the palace, but unlike the general population, I drew the line at murder.
I stopped to take in the room one more time. The human remained a solemn statue with his tray of wine, unlike the fluidity of the rest of the ballroom. Just as I turned to leave, he looked up. For the second time that night I shared a look with a doomed soul. Momentarily stunned, I gave a curt nod in his direction and walked out.
Murder. I drew the line at murder. Just because you can kill someone, doesn’t mean you should. I couldn’t worry about a human that likely wouldn’t last the week, anyway. There were high fae, then lesser fae, creatures and then humans. Their lives were but a blink of time for the fae.
I called for my carriage and began the long trip home. I leaned out of the window, watching the castle fade away as we traveled through the city, avoiding the swampy marsh, until we entered the country with towering trees and green grassy hills for as far as the eye could see.
I trusted my fae horse to know the way. Twice the size of standard-bred horses, his hooves kicked up just enough dirt and dust to add a soothing balance to the cool evening air. I listened to the wheels grind into the stones on the path and the pattern of the trot as he carried me home.
Just before I drifted off to sleep, I saw the face of the dead pixie in my memory. Why did I live in a world like this? Did she intentionally look at me, or was she simply searching for a single person in a crowd full of animosity who would empathize with her?
Days later, I arrived home and looked at our simple cottage with just a few lamp lights glowing in the windows. Traveling to the castle was such a long journey for just a few hours of lukewarm entertainment. A home in the country far away from the courtiers and hustle and bustle of the city beyond the castle was the only thing my father had ever asked of King Coro.
I unhooked Brimir from the carriage and took him to the stables. As I was brushing him down and generously feeding him pina fruit from the stable, I got that all too familiar feeling creeping up my rigid spine, like the legs of a spider, telling me that someone was watching, lurking.
I hit the ground just in time to dodge the arm coming for my neck. I swung around, keeping low, and kicked my assailant just behind the knees. His body kicked up a cloud of dust as he tumbled to the ground. Hard. I had two choices. I could run for the house, hoping I had incapacitated him enough to make it, or I could go on the offense. As I pulled the small knife from my thigh, I smirked. As if I would ever run.
He was painfully slow. I could only see the outline of his stocky body from the moonlight shining into the barn, but it was enough. I stepped into position, holding my knife loosely in my hand. The sound of him pulling his long sword from its sheath was like music to my pointed ears. I needed this. The smile on my face hadn’t wavered.