Fae, Chapter Six

Chapter Six

He looked up, startled. His young Faerie face spoke of childhood, not maturity. It was his childishness that made him seek revenge on those he felt had wronged him. “Oh. Mira,” his mouth curved in a mischievous grin. “Welcome back. How was your flight?” He asked. Since I was back, I hoped he realized it hadn’t been successful. “There are slave traders in our area. What are you doing about them?” I asked quietly. “Let them be. They’re making their living.”

“But those are our people their making their living from!” I hissed. “So?” Nero asked, both his face and voice apathetic. I felt ice creep into my veins, and travel into my voice.

“Do you even remember what day it is, child?” I said scathingly. A sarcastic glitter appeared in his eyes. “Of course, Princess.” I felt Damien getting uncomfortable behind me, and with venom in my voice.

“Do you really?”

I couldn’t believe I’d even shown myself to this child Fae. So much younger than me, and so much more naive, he would surely try something again to get me to either leave – or die. Aloriel stood from a courtiers table, and then came over, taking a position next to Damien. Curtsying to the prince, I then felt her eyes on me. I stood straighter as he, too, stood, wiping his mouth and snapping to his servants. Leaving, his coy smile made me want to punch him, or blow his head off with the magic that seemed to pulse more angrily inside me with every step he took.

“Princess?”

Aloriel brought me back. Turning to her only halfway, I looked her up and down calmly. “Are you okay?” She asked. Damien’s eyes asked the same question, but his stance remained impassive, and his sword hang from his hip menacingly – though the menace was not aimed towards either of the two women near him. I didn’t respond to the question. Instead, I took a bag from her belt and filled it with food that I would take back to my room. Walking out without a word, I didn’t care to hear if they were following or not. When I arrived back to my room, and no one arrived after me, I realized that they actually hadn’t. Where Damien was, then, I had no idea. Walking out onto the balcony, and then flying off of it, I wondered how much trouble I’d get into with him this time.

He was there, in my private hiding place. He’d known where I’d go. Here in the garden I’d nurtured around my parents final resting place, I’d often hidden when I was upset. Feeling close to them always made me feel better, even if I knew they were no longer here to help me. Damien stood apart from the graves, his head bent in respect for the departed, when I landed quietly in the center of my garden. The flowers here were always in bloom, protected by my long past spells to keep anything that would harm the blooms at bay. Frost lingered on the edge of the grasses around the garden, but here, everything was untouched by time and the elements. The only thing that ever fell here was rain.


“Damien,” I said.
“You knew where I was going.”

His eyes still closed, he nodded. “Despite your illusion of the perfectly trained princess,” he sighed. “You’re predictable to those who know you.” His amber eyes opened and focused on me. “You shouldn’t leave us, though. You’re in danger when you’re alone.”

I laughed openly, but a chill crept into my bones from his words. I knew that they were true. Only days ago, I’d been in danger of being sold as a slave, or worse, being killed. Walking up to him, I wondered how badly it hurt him to know that. He didn’t show any extra emotion as I wrapped my arms around his waist and put my face into his chest, but his arms were comforting as they snaked around my torso and held me closer against him. “I miss them,” I whispered.

“I know.”

A breeze ran through the garden, warmer than what was outside my magic’s bubble. In here, it was an eternal late spring day. The scent of the flowers were heavy, and as Damien and I lay in the thick grassy floor of the garden, the sky light blue above us, the petals continued to flutter in a light breeze. Damien was quiet for the longest, because every so often, my breath would catch in my throat and I would make a small coughing sound.  Tears had dried, but still managed to burn behind my eyes.

“I think he’s up to something.”

Damien let out a sigh. “Princess,” he sounded like he didn’t want to have this conversation again. “No. He’s up to something. There was something different about him today.” I sat up, and stood over him. His eyes were closed, but his scowl let me know that I was treading on thin ice with him again. “Just watch, Damien. He’ll do something.”


That evening, I sat at the table in the great halls. Nero was nowhere to be seen, and servants told me that he’d been in his chambers all day, planning something. What it was, they didn’t know. Damien refused to think along the lines that I was, and so I was alone. Aloriel hadn’t reappeared until dinner. She told me that she’d been watching the new recruits for the armies train in the fields. I knew why she’d gone: there was a Water Faerie that she’d taken a liking to, by the name of Galen, and as far as I knew, they were almost perfect for each other.

When it was night out once more, I returned to my balcony. Damien stayed in the room, and Aloriel prepared the bed. The night air was colder than before, and my breath formed ice crystals as it blew from my mouth. My skin showed no signs of the cold – the cold had little effect on my branch of the Fae race. My eyes focused on the edges of the grounds, miles away. The nocturnal animals skirted in and out of them, and the night owls let out their echoing calls. The sensation was eerie, and after a few moments, I went inside once more.



Aloriel helped me out of my dress, so that I was only in my long undergarments. Damien stood at his post near the window, looking at the only other entrance to my room quietly. Though he said that he expected nothing, he sure was acting on edge.

I knew from his facial expression that I wasn’t going to get anything out of him tonight, so, climbing into my bed, I faced away from him. My eyes didn’t drift shut for a while, but now that I was comfortable, when I fell asleep I didn’t notice. Memories of my parents and Damien filled my dreams, and new flashes of things that were probably subconscious recognitions.

“Princess!” There was a call from somewhere nearby. Startling awake, I heard the clashes of weapons. “Princess Mira!” The calls were frantic, and so were the clangs of the weapons. I opened my eyes, and jumped out of the bed as something hit where my head had been only a brief moment before. My brother, holding a dagger, was at the foot of my bed, and I stood frozen, wondering where Damien was. But the clanging of weapons continued, but afraid of losing eye contact with Nero, I didn’t look to see who Damien was fighting. Drawing magic into my palms I centered the energy into icy orbs, ready to launch at my brother.

We stood there. Watching each other.
Then.
He moved.

I dodged his swipe, and I felt shards of glass go flying. He’d launched himself intentionally into the mirror, sending exploding glass out over the entire room, and when I rolled, a shard planted itself into my arm. I didn’t stop though. Launching a volley of the ice, I smiled as one hit him square in the face, knocking him down onto a pile of glass. It fell off his cloak as he stood, and I realized that he was unscathed. He muttered a curse, and a wave of his own magic knocked me against the wall, driving the shard of glass out of my skin, leaving a ragged and deep hole in my arm. He leaped at me after the impact, but I too responded with magic. A fire column errupted from my pal, knocking Nero into the wall.

A grimace formed on his face. Then, he left in a flash; the same way I’d come back. The sword fighting stopped with a muffled female scream. Looking over at the balcony, I saw the female fighter laying on the ground, Damien standing over her, panting. “Princess, stay back.” His voice was dangerously calm, but I didn’t heed his warning. Instead, I ran forward towards them, and saw in my dismay that the fighter was Nero’s guardian. She lay, near death, on the stone. I bent down over her. “Selene,” I whispered her name, and her eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open.

“I can’t just let her die,” I said, looking up at Damien. Without waiting for a response, I let the magic flow from my hands, and watched as it zoomed in on the heavily bleeding wound in her side. When her breathing returned to normal, I believed I had succeeded. She wouldn’t wake for a while, and as I slumped backwards, Damien caught me, and carried me away.

“You have a big heart for someone in your situation,” he muttered to me as he set me on the bed. My own arm was bleeding badly, and tearing off the sleeve of my underdress, he examined the jagged wound.

He couldn’t heal it, but taking a clean strip of cloth from his shirt, he tied it tightly around my arm and then picked me up again. We could already hear uproars in the halls. The prince was gone, and there had been a commotion on the balcony of the princess’s rooms. Another palace guard burst in, his wings aflutter. Damien pointed over at Selene, who was still unconscious on the balcony. He nodded. “I’ll take her to the cells.”

I didn’t object, my mind was too numb to. The scenes kept replaying in my head from only moments before. My head ached and my armed throbbed painfully. My good arm was pressed against Damien’s chest, and my head lolled against his neck. Damien then walked briskly out of the room, and I didn’t object, even though I might have been able to walk by myself.

Now that Nero was gone, what was going to happen? Where had he even gone? When would he come back – and what would happen if he did? Damien had doubted me and what I had believed. It cut deep now that my suspicions had been confirmed. It was a shame that I was too exhausted to say ‘I told you so.’

When we arrived at the medic quarters, there was little activity. He set me down next to a cautious Fae who seemed unsurprised to see me again. “Where’s your brother?” The elderly male Fae asked, cutting the bandaging off carefully and then pouring a potion onto the skin that bubble and made it burn. I gripped Damien’s hand, but he too looked worn and weary, though he gripped it back for my comfort. What had drained him, I didn’t know; I only knew the pain in my arm and my head. When I next looked at my arm, the skin was most of the way healed, but a pink mark marred the skin where the glass had sliced through it.

My energy was still depleted, and wasn’t going to return by any chemical means. I wondered why none of the other Fae were allowed to use magic anymore. Not only not allowed to – but unable. There was rumor of a spell cast ages ago that wiped the lower classes of all their magic, cast by my own ancestors. They had been a more developed race by comparison; Taller, more powerful, and by far more beautiful. Depictions of them had always made me envious, not of their power, but of their very existence. They hadn’t been frail, or even weaker in comparison to the humans.

Damien guided me back to my room. Guards repositioned themselves outside both my doors: three on the balcony, and two by the main entrance of my room. I knew this meant that Damien could take a break now, and taking off his belt, I helped him into the bed. He smiled tiredly, and then laughed at the fact that it was the exhausted princess aiding her underling and lover into bed. He was grateful, though. When I finally got under the blankets, his warm arms locked around me gently, making me feel protected and cared for.

I was still awake when I felt him drift off, his breathing growing deeper, and his hold relaxing, though the warmth was still there. A chill in my heart had settled in. What was Nero up to, and how in the world was I to handle the situation? As the only remaining heir, if Nero didn’t reappear in the next forty-eight hours, I was going to be re-crowned as queen. Steeling myself for the inevitable, I realized, was the only option. Beside me, Damien muttered something in his own tongue about me, and I smiled to myself.
Each core elemental tribe had it’s own unique abilities and languages.

Fire Fae were traditionally warriors, and as young men they were often fast and furious, but as they aged many became knowledgeable and highly reliable generals. Slow to anger as they grew older, they trained the already accepted warriors, and made them better. They had once been able to wield fire magic, but they had lost those abilities with the scourge.

Earth Fae dealt with what their titles entailed – the gifts of the earth. They were the best farmers, and at one point, they had done business hand-in-hand with the Water Fae. Without magic, the relationship outside of the castle walls had become like any other tribe – they did business to survive, but no longer to flourish. They and the Water Fae had also been known for their healers: Water for the ability to use the strongest healing magic, and Earth for the herbs of the earth and foods.

Water Fae had been strong fighters as well, as water is one of the most destructive forces in the world. Their loss of the ability to use their magic devastated their abilities, however, and they had faded into the background greatly. The scourge angered many of the Fae of the tribe, and there had been near civil war after it, because of the Water Fairies’ anger. The riots had been quieted, but bitterness still remained.

Air Fae hadn’t argued. They continued working as they had before the scourge. Their powers had ranged entirely from destructive to wonderful, but they had always been judicious about the use of them. Aloriel, descended from some of the most powerful of the clansmen, had never made mention of it to me. They were often the most valued servants of the royal households.

Each Fae group had an elder representative that aided the royals in decisions and informed them of even the smallest issues that had arisen. It was still the same way to this day. It was they who would decide, as was protocol, if I was going to be crowned once more. They wouldn’t have a choice other than to at this point.

Damien tightened his hold again as he muttered something else, and it brought me back from my reverie. I rolled over carefully, and watched his face as he slept. The amber of his eyes was hidden beneath the thin olive skin of his eyelids. His lips were closed, and his face was relaxed. It was unusual to see him that way, but I could still the wear that the past few days had put on him. Circles, light in color, had etched themselves under his eyes, and frown lines had done the same to his forehead. Inside, I could only blame myself – I’d done this to him.

All for nothing, now.