Soul

  Zoe acted as though she hadn’t seen me in an age. “I thought you were mad at me, or dead or something. Where have you been?”

  “Staying with a friend. I’m so sorry about your house, Zoe. Is there anything I can do?”

  She shook her head. “We’ve been staying with Mam’s sister, so basically, hell on earth. She can’t face cleaning up the mess, but I don’t blame her. Wait a second… what friend?”

  I must have blushed because she gaped at me. “Drake? You’re living with him now? Where? I mean, is that safe?”

  “I’m not living there. I’m staying there temporarily until I sort out something permanent. It’s a favour. I barely see him because he works. I have my own room. Stop worrying.”

  “I’m not worried. I’m just interested. Okay, maybe a little worried. Is he a drug dealer or something?”

  I scowled. “No. And like I said, I don’t see him much.”

  “But what have you been doing then because I never see you.”

  “I know. And that’s going to change. I’ve been trying to catch up with assignments. We’re still on for my birthday, right?”

  “Will he be there?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Yes. Will Darren?”

  She grinned. “So this is what it feels like to worry someone’s not good enough for your best friend. I love you. Stop disappearing.”

  “I will. I’m just in the middle of a lot of… stuff. When it’s over, you’ll be sick of me all over again.”

  “I’m never sick of you.”

  “Lies. How are things with you and Darren?”

  She hesitated. “Weird. He’s acting…” She shrugged.

  “What is it?”

  “You know how he gets stupid when he’s drunk sometimes? Well, he’s been acting like that all of the damn time lately. He got into a fight at work yesterday. He might lose his job. He barely speaks to me. And he’s so jumpy. I’d swear he was on something if I didn’t know better.”

  “Work is probably worrying him or something. He’s not really the kind of person who talks about his feelings all day, right?”

  “No, but…” She sighed. “You’re probably right.”

  Ronnie walked right past us, but she didn’t as much as glance in my direction. A few minutes later, my phone beeped with a text from her, asking if I had heard anything more about the ceremony. I ignored it because I didn’t think reuniting her with the fae would be good for her. Maybe Grim had been right about her.

  At lunch, I tried ringing Mam again, but she didn’t answer. Probably for the best. I had questions for her, but I didn’t really want to know the answers.

  That afternoon, I went back to Brendan’s home, but the glowering guard outside my door stopped me from entering my room.

  “You’re wanted downstairs,” he said gruffly.

  Sighing, I headed back downstairs with Grim and Realtín. Brendan’s office was full of pretty fae girls who giggled constantly in his presence.

  “Pixies,” Realtín sneered. “You’ll hate them.”

  “Tonight’s very important,” Brendan said. “I need you to look as fae as possible. These girls will take your measurements and help you get ready. If there’s anything they’re missing, let them know.”

  The pixies took my measurements, pushing and dancing and full of mirth. One smiled shyly at me before biting her lip and proceeding to act as hyper as the rest. All of them were pretty, winged, and shimmering. I felt like a troll next to them.

  When they left, I looked at Brendan, feeling a little scared. “Nobody’s going to die, right?”

  He laughed. “I’m almost certain there will be no death tonight. If there is, it won’t be yours.”

  “But you’re not going to kill anyone, are you? It’s not going to be like the festival, like the queens.” I bit on my thumbnail, nervous as memories engulfed me.

  “You’re afraid?”

  An old woman stepped into the room before I could answer—the needle-fingered creature who had made me strip so she could create my “sacrifice” dress.

  “No way,” I said. “Not again.”

  “Again?” Brendan asked. “Ah. I see. She’s the best dressmaker there is, Cara. You will allow her to work on you.”

  He had on his I’m the leader, do as I say look, and when even Realtín shook her head, I knew to obey. I shrugged and let the dressmaker do her job. She took note of the measurements the girls had made, studied my body, then looked at Brendan questioningly.

  “Do you have any requests?” he asked me.

  “Nothing as skimpy as those girls who measured me,” I said immediately.

  Brendan covered his smile. “Listen to the girl,” he told the dressmaker. “And not white this time.” He stared at me. “Red should work. But keep her measurements. The outfits she needs for the ceremony will be extra special. We need to put on a show, tonight included.”

  I had visions of something awful, but I kept my mouth shut. At least I wouldn’t have to sit in my room all night with only a sprite, a brownie, and a cat for company.

  The woman tugged at the chains around my neck. I stepped out of her reach, covering the locket and medal with my hand.

  “Let her wear them,” Brendan said. “I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to cover them.”

  The old woman glared at Brendan, tutting to herself.

  “It’s time for you to prepare,” Brendan said, turning his back on us. “Grim, stay here.”

  Realtín clung to my hair as the old woman led me down a hallway I hadn’t noticed before. She pushed me through some double doors and into a large bathroom. A large step-in bath sat in the centre of the room. Black petals covered the surface of the steaming water, and the scent in the air was kind of hypnotic.

  The pixies appeared and surrounded me, giggling as they removed my clothes before I could protest. They helped me step into the bath, speaking rapidly all of the time. The petals’ aroma filled my nostrils, and the water soothed the tension in my shoulders. I felt myself relaxing for the first time since the fae had come into my life.

  I didn’t protest when Brendan’s fae girls washed my hair, scenting it with exotic-smelling violet flowers. They wrapped towels around me as I stepped out of the bath. Nudity was nothing to them, and I let myself get carried along, accepting fae rules and traditions because it was convenient… and a lot more fun.

  They led me into an adjoining room, where they sat me in a chair and went to work. I closed my eyes and dozed off while they twisted my hair and giggled over my tattoo. They made up my face until the dressmaker arrived. She held up a lot of red fabric, but when I put it on, I discovered the dress was backless and had high slits up the sides.

  It at least reached the floor and covered my cleavage and midriff. In the human world, the clothes I wore gave me power, but in the fae one, I felt exposed and vulnerable, despite the fact that everyone else in the room was wearing less than me.

  The girls fussed over the dress, adjusting it until they were happy. They made me go barefoot and attached silver anklets and bracelets to my limbs so every movement made me jangle noisily. When I walked, the dress trailed behind me, and the pixies practiced holding it up off the floor.

  A pretty blue-haired, bronze-skinned pixie knelt at my feet and begged to attend to me at the event.

  “Uh, okay,” I said, startled by the request.

  The other pixies hissed, but she grinned wildly, although her eyes were sad and empty. I had watched her more than the others, noting the differences. Her playfulness didn’t ring as true as theirs, and her heart seemed heavy.

  “My name is Anya,” she said, lowering her head. “Ask anything of me, and I’ll do it.”

  “They’re trying to impress the king,” Realtín said sourly. She dived into some powder, sending up a dust cloud that made the pixies squeal.

  They brushed something across my skin that made my skin shimmer like a faery’s. When they finally allowed me to look into a mirror, I saw shining loose curls, most of it
pinned over one shoulder with an oversized red lily. My skin glowed, and I could see myself as one of them. In that moment, I fit in somewhere. But it was all an illusion—makeup and faery tricks. As a final touch, they added a jewelled chain that hung a trail of rubies down my back.

  “You’re so lucky,” Anya said, stroking my back. “No wings to spoil it. You could pass for a royal.”

  “Wanna trade?” I joked, but she frowned and looked away.

  When Grim finally came to rescue me, the party had already started.

  “Brendan wanted you to be the last to arrive,” he said. “I am to introduce you.”

  I shook with nerves. “Is this really a big deal?”

  “Bigger than we expected,” Grim said. “Be careful, Cara. Please him publicly, think before you speak, and only speak when spoken to.”

  “Oh, just enjoy it,” Realtín scoffed. “When else are you going to get this chance?”

  But Grim looked so worried that I knelt next to him.

  “I’ll be okay,” I said. “You don’t have to worry.”

  He glanced around, terror in his eyes. “Be careful,” he whispered.

  “He won’t let anything happen to me, Grim. Not tonight.”

  “Be careful of him,” he amended. “He’s different with you. He acts like a free man. There’s danger in the things he forgets. I do worry for you.”

  I kissed Grim’s cheek. “Maybe he’s a different kind of slave. Come on. Let’s get this over and done with.”

  He took my hand as I rose. He escorted me to the party, his head held high. The pixies followed, laughing and shoving each other. Anya gathered up the back of my heavy dress and carried it.

  The bodyguard at the door of the great hall glared at me, but he stepped aside to let us pass. The pixies piled into the room, making so much noise that everyone looked in our direction. So many eyes focused on me, the only human there, as far as I could tell.

  The hall was huge, likely magically so, and faeries cavorted together in the centre. Long tables lined the walls, and at the centre of the table facing the doors stood a throne, a plain one, but a throne all the same. A million lights twinkled above my head, but they weren’t sprites. The musicians played well, no sweat or blood that I could see. Everyone seemed calm, and there was no darkness in the air. The frenzy of the first festival hadn’t burned into the party yet. And maybe it never would with Brendan around to control things.

  “Why are they staring?” I whispered as, one by one, groups of fae turned to look directly at us.

  “They’re judging you,” Anya replied.

  “Oh, great. That makes me feel so much better.”

  She looked confused. “They want to know what to expect at the ceremony, if you’re a threat. If the king…” She looked away.

  “I get it,” I said.

  “He wants them to think you’re more fae than you are,” Realtín whispered close to my ear. “That way, they’ll think it less likely for your word to count at the ceremony. Grim says they’ll let you speak if they think you’re easily discredited.” Her tiny hands trembled as she brushed my hair out of her way.

  I caught sight of Brendan across the room and was filled with the urge to run and hide behind him. He was speaking to a horned creature built like a house. Sorcha stood by his side, her hand on his arm. She wore a blackened-blue Grecian-style dress decorated with sparkles that moved every time I blinked. She looked like a starry night sky.

  She saw me, frowned, and whispered into Brendan’s ear. He turned and looked at me, and I couldn’t look away. He wasn’t Drake, but sometimes I forgot, and he had charms of his own. I liked his confidence and power and those moments when his mask slipped and he spoke from the heart. He had treated me well, all things considered. At the party, he was making sure everyone treated me like someone important. I wasn’t used to that.

  He made his way over to me, still holding my gaze. My cheeks burned. I desired Drake’s body, and I wanted to be close to his soul, but Brendan had wormed his way into that circle of affection, too. Faeries had broken down all of my walls.

  Grim announced me loudly, and everyone kept watching, curious to see what Brendan would do next.

  He came too close, so close I had to step back, almost knocking Anya over. He took my hand and made to lead me into the room, but I hesitated.

  “I can’t,” I whispered. “Everyone’s looking at us, and the dress at the back is freaking ridiculous. I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”

  “You’re earning yourself a night out,” he said, making a show of looking over my shoulder at my back. “And they won’t care about the dress. You should be more comfortable in your own skin.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I muttered. “And I care.”

  “And I’m in charge.” He stared down at me for a couple more seconds before turning me slightly so he could trace the rubies down my back.

  I squirmed, and he laughed. He lowered his arm until his hand covered the lowest part of my back. My skin prickled under his touch. He led me around the room as if I were a show pony. Anya, Grim, and Realtín followed us.

  “This is ridiculous, too,” I said under my breath.

  “Get used to it. You’ll be paraded at the ceremony. They want to see you. They’re curious about you.”

  “Why? What do they care about humans?”

  “They don’t. They care about what I think of humans, and they will assume things tonight. Don’t worry. I’ve planned every step,” he said, his eyes alight with that mischievous streak that came alive every so often. “These are the rules: Sit next to my seat, be careful what you say, do not thank anyone, don’t ask their names, don’t reveal anything about yourself, and act dumb.” He led me to a large seat at the top table in the room. “You look beautiful.”

  “They made me look fae,” I said wryly.

  “I’ve never seen a faery like you before,” he teased. Then, he squeezed my hand and left me alone.

  “You can go dance, Anya,” I said, seeing the pixie looking longingly after the king.

  She shook her head. “I’d rather stay with you. If you desire anything, anything at all, only ask, and I shall—” Her smile faded as Sorcha approached.

  “I see what you’re doing,” Sorcha said. “Don’t get too comfortable in my place.”

  “You brought me here, remember?”

  She sneered. “Half-breeds don’t earn places with the king.”

  “Tell that to Drake.”

  She pulled my hair, drawing me close enough to kiss. I stared up at her defiantly, refusing to wince.

  “Do not say that name here. Are you trying to get us all killed?” She smiled, letting go and smoothing down my hair. “I can arrange for your life to end when he doesn’t need you any more, little girl. Don’t expect us all to go down with you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know your routine. The death threats are getting old.”

  She leaned over me. “You’re not even good enough to be his concubine. Your own family doesn’t want you. What makes you think royalty will? Once we don’t need you anymore, you’re gone. But you’re used to that, aren’t you?”

  I rose, forcing her to move back from me. “If I were you, I’d back the fuck off before I do something we both regret.”

  “Like what? Cry until Drake comes to save you? Pathetic human. Have you forgotten who I am? I brought you here; I can send you away just as easily. We both know you’re desperate to stay. Poor little human. The product of—”

  “Sorcha!” Brendan’s voice startled both of us. “Go see what’s keeping the food.”

  He glared at her. Anya stood by his side, her eyes wide with terror.

  Sorcha sent me a death stare until he repeated the order. With a strange little howl, she strode away, the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, and one who hated me with the anger of the most malevolent. I kept thinking it was jealousy, but I hadn’t noticed any kind of chemistry between her and Brendan.

  “She hates me,” I said.
>
  “More than you know,” he replied. “Nothing happened the way she planned. I was supposed to take the body of a warrior. You were supposed to be a sheep.” His smile was weak. “Or maybe that was me. Everything is wrong.”

  “Does she love you?” I asked.

  “She loves power. One day, I’ll take a wife. My wife will be queen of the fae. She would kill a million souls for that opportunity. I should be grateful for such a loyal wife, and yet…” He shook his head. “Maybe when my power is returned, when I’m alone, I’ll feel myself again. See things more clearly.”

  “Maybe you don’t want the hassle anymore. You said combining the two courts was a mistake. Why make the same one again? You could let someone else take over half of the kingdom.”

  He took a seat, so I joined him. Anya knelt at my feet, playing with my anklets.

  “It’s not that simple. Very few have royal blood and the strength to control the power and the courts. Sadler might, but we would be eternally at war. He would have no reason to make peace with me if he had a court behind him. It would be pointless.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “What would happen at a human party? What would you be doing if we were all your human friends?”

  I smiled, wistful at the memory of the things I had taken for granted. “Drunk dancing, making note of anything gossip-worthy, and maybe I’d meet a boy before it’s time to go home.” I would have given anything for one more normal, boring night.

  He glanced over at the door. Sorcha had returned. He clapped his hands, and servers began passing around plates of food. The goblets refilled themselves, of course.

  “Eat. Drink,” he said, gazing at me.

  I watched the pixies dance. Some of them writhed in the laps of older fae who looked on in scorn, even as they grabbed at the pixies. One bit the shoulder of a pixie who giggled as milky tears fell from her eyes. I knew why Anya wanted to serve me at the party. The only alternative was pain and degradation.

  “Do they have to do that?” I asked, my voice trembling when I intended it to be sharp.