Join me in night painted with crimson and black.

Leira was sure that something was not right. And something was not right, the night seemed to crack with tension, which she could slice with a knife. The usual thick magic of Dal’coler which she thought she was used to, seemed to haunt her, like a ghost of the past in an abandoned building.

Her steps quickly led her to her own room. Lorian offered her another gift. Safety in her own chamber. No one could pass the magic that guarded it, only him. She was his spy and she needed this, in case someone wanted revenge, digging deeper and unveiling her participation in many surprising events.

Or…

Or it was an act of care. She sometimes – only sometimes – had a feeling that he wanted something other than her obedience, other than her skills, that she saw an another kind of interest in his eyes. Something… less cruel. But it was as… curious, a perfect unknown, as frightening. Why would he even care for her? After things he did in the past? After fear she felt because of him?

A sudden glimpse of him, as he pushes the shadowed tendrils, deep under her skin. As he smiles at her, when they worm their way into her veins.

Yet these small acts, however read them, were tempting her. Were promising something other than the life she led.

And she was abandoning herself even more in her needs and wants. Needs which were giving her courage though, gave her wings, buried deep into her flesh, made of feathers and hard silver, allowing her to not fear anymore, to not be the victim anymore. Hunger, making her more like the fae.

She knew that humans would find it unnatural, strange and going against her nature. But she loved the intricate darkness that was spreading behind her, slowly and inevitably. Dark could be so alluring…

The air filled with magic. Just on the path to her room. Something wanted her, something needed her… and it was not Lorian.

Her steps carried her faster. If she reaches her room, she will be safe. What if the danger awaits her just at the door, though? What if it plays with her? In Dal’coler, she had many enemies. Many who hated her. A court filled with black hearts and hungry teeth, craving for blood of those who couldn’t defend themselves. Perfect prey for the thirst that was filling their throats.

A sudden sound crashed against her thoughts, like a hammer.

A raven. It was sitting on the balustrade that led by the stairs from which she was quickly stepping off. A raven with strange blue eyes – unnatural and round. And it croaked. Low, but oddly melodic voice, again not fitting for a raven at all.

Curse it.

Leira slowly passed the raven, and then, another joined in, sitting on a crystal that beamed with feylight, its eyes set on her, like wanting to pull her thoughts, one by one.

Curse it, curse it.

Leira left the ravens behind, not even looking at them, and just… walked faster. She knew who could use the blue eyed ravens in this palace. And the only one who could – was a danger that Lorian would not want to stop. Maybe Nymre would use his love for her to remove Leira once and for all. Like she knew what brimmed in Leira’s heart, knew her all needs and wishes. But it was impossible. Nymre couldn’t read minds. She could only be jealous and hate the scarce attention Lorian was offering her.

Third raven, behind her.

Fourth, almost brushing against her face. Fifth. It tangled its talons in her hair, and pulled. Leira didn’t scream – no one should even scream in Dal’coler if they really don’t have to – but started to run. Fast.

Really fast.

The flock of ravens came after her, separating her from her room, attacking her with talons and beaks, but not making any bleeding wounds.

After all, she was Lorian’s property. He would not be pleased if Nymre hurt her.

The birds, the massive amount of feathers and bodies just pushed her against the wall and she lost her breath. She was aware, through fearful mist, that the ravens stop attacking but she hit the stone so hard that she lost sense of where she was and how she landed here. She touched her forehead which took the hardest blow.

No blood.

Of course. No blood.

She slowly started to gather herself, trying to stand up, her ears sounding with dead silence. This was the first time. First time she went against Lorian’s will. She felt not safe in Dal’coler but safer than before. She was a fool. Fool. Fool.

Stupid girl, who forgot so much from the beginning days.

“I see you met my servants. They love fresh meat. I had to stop them, or they would harm you. And that would be… unforgivable.”

She gazed in the voice direction, but she already recognized it. She didn’t even need to see her beautiful, round face, her perfect white hair, her intricate dress, which glimmered like an obsidian star. But she saw her and her not less perfect smile, shaded with cruel promise.

Nymre slowly approached, Leira trying to stand on her feet, fast, to not meet her on her knees. Nymre though, couldn’t care less. Her power lifted Leira up, until she stood, or rather hanged before her, her supple finger lifting her chin, with a studied care.

“Tell me, child” her voice soft, but tainted with expectations and badly concealed worry. “How close are you to your owner?”

Leira shook her head, her golden curls falling over her face.

“I am… owned by him” she said, her voice clenching in her throat, that hard Nymre’s power was.

Nymre laughed.

“Oh, definitely, you are” her magical grasp tightened. “Did you please him? Has he taken you? Do not lie, I can feel the lie so easily.”

Leira’s mind whirled. This was… mad. Lorian has taken so many others, yet, she asks her, of all? That was so ridiculous, so sad.

“Never” Leira choked, the fear taking a tight hold on her, even if she suspected Nymre wouldn’t kill her. If only Nymre knew what was in her head. But she didn’t. She only suspected, fearing that Lorian was not faithful. Oh goddess…

“You tell me that ‘never’, my dear” Nymre’s voice, somehow, controlled. Her aura, light as cold breeze, enveloping Leira, she felt as thick gossamer sticks to her skin. One pull, and her skin would open. Fae auras could be as cruel as their owners.

“Yes, my lady.”

“But I don’t feel the lie in you” Nymre’s voice indicating that she is sad, that her suspicions were not true. She would love to have a reason.

“I don’t lie, my lady.”

Nymre grinned. It was a cruel grin. Hungry grin of someone who spotted her prey and now, it’s only a matter of time until she feast on it. Someone who caught it and won’t release it, as it’s a good and filling prey.

“I know what you truly want. A human, a slave. But so many privileges, so much attention. And how many good fey he killed because they tried to teach you a lesson. I know he wants you. He could have you so many times, but he wants you willing. If you yield…”

Leira was released, tossed on the ground by Nymre’s retracting power.

“… if you yield… I will know” ended Nymre. She was calm, but darkness bubling under her composure. She hated the idea that Lorian could not want her only. That he could want her willing. “You were taught so much boldness. If you yield… I will teach you humility.”

Leira saw that in her eyes, a hatred and something… deeper. Nymre, that was now obvious, despised her slowly, gradually, from the very beginning. It was rising in her, like an avalanche of hard stones. And if something adds to it, a tiny gravel piece, it will burst into falling death.

Leira saw this with all clarity. Death. Even against Lorian’s will.

Nymre had to realize that Leira saw that. That she recognized it. But… she could of course harm her, but not without consequence in her private life. The question was, is she risks it.

Nymre left her, laying on the floor, the air filled with delicate scent of sea breeze. In the midst of raven feathers, surrounded by fluttering fairy lights, which suddenly started to dance around her, attracted by her emotions. Attracted by her darkness that was starting to bloom in her, in reaction to the threat.

She of course had no chance against Nymre. No chance against any fae, even the lowest.

But she was not weak.

She was not weak. But death was not reaching only for the frail ones.

“That was… delicious” he heard a purr in his ear and felt the airy scent of his raven by his side. She moved noisessly, as her feet didn’t touch the ground. “Good that you sent that slave with the girl. She will lull her to sleep with her soft presence.”

Ah, Nymre.

He watched his subjects return to enjoying the ball. Their auras again spread widely, he felt as the air filled with magic and tension. He enjoyed it, muting it never was pleasant for the fey, like shutting a vital part of them into a cage with thorned bars.

Yet he ordered them.

The human girl sensed much more than she should, she felt his enchantment, his glamour, she even started to hate him, felt his intention. That was… interesting. Human younglings usually could feel the magic more, just like wild cubs. But these they were, unshaped by life, following instincts of fear and basic needs. Fairy children were taught to be lords from a very early age. It was depending on them, if they manage to be them, or not. Human children were never purposefully exposed to anything that could harm their young minds. Held under a blanket, loved and cared for, they were unprepared and soft. And they – felt much more. They have seen much more, their inner eye surprisingly open, until the hard life won’t take its toll. Until something slit the throat of their trust with a sharp knife.

Humans were so different from the fae. So easy to break but so absorbing and… bendable. Ready to be shaped, emotions pulsing in their open minds.

“I think you drift again with your thoughts, my busy lord. Buried deep in your plans, neglecting your mate” he heard an amused voice again and smiled. So impatient. But he loved that, her hot temper, her fire. Her blazing flame, that nothing could quench through all these years.

Trust. An issue. He knew that she was worried. He knew she would never go against him. But her spells that were sinking in his darkness started to cause him to choose own spies, own ways. He has the right to have own secrets, just as she had the right to hers – that’s why he never entered her mind against her.

Perhaps one day he will need to.

But not today.

“I thought about possibilities,” he smiled at her, charmingly, disarming her. “You are aware that kindness, once sown, once taken care of and fed with water, sprouts into belief. Into trust.”

Nymre’s eyes opened more. She had eyes as big as the sun during winter noon.

Ready to swallow him like pale portals.

“You want her to trust you? I think she already had given it all to never trust you again… and why? To keep the boy you need in shackles, I assume. To bind his hands even more.”

“Her brother soon will enter Ain’asel. To drag him here is one thing. To keep him, to force him to stay and give his soul to me, willingly, beautifully, is another thing. If this girl will trust me… it will be so much easier. She will be useful in making him more… eager.  I need him eager and open like a lover.”

“You want to play with her like a toy” smiled Nymre, her features lighting up.

“An useful toy, that keeps a child occupied, until adults finish their tasks.”

“And you think that she will… allow you? I feel her, she is strong. I felt that as soon as she appeared in Dal’coler.”

Lorian’s smile became slightly predatory.

“Her mind is observant yet very receptive. And nothing makes one trust the savior than a promise of violence… a hint of darkness… a threat that overshadows his shadow. Something vile that will bind her in a net of gratittude towards the one who simply stopped it.”

Nymre seemed to gleam, her gossamer aura pulsing with badly concealed excitement. She wanted to say more, but someone interrupted.

A Fae approached, his stride fast and cat-like. His long dark brown hair smooth like silk, and his white robe reminiscent of a summer morn.

Alnam.

His smile could be taken for granted, his aura muted like he was giving honors, but his bow almost nonexistent.

But Lorian knew what hides in this mind. He knew his hatred, his scorn, his… resentment and anger. And it was filling him, Alnam’s hate causing almost touchable pleasure.

His raven will have his heart in her fingers, sooner or later. Maybe they will bite through it together.

“My lord… I came to ask about… small worrying disturbence.”

Lorian waved and allowed Alnam. The fae lord made a content nod, his eyes joyful, pleased.

“Disturbence on the ball? I thought you are supposed to enjoy yourself, after all, it’s the night of dancing and music” Lorian grinned lightly.

Alnam’s eyes this time showed calculated caution.

“I am afraid that a human child entered the ball and stole too much of your attention, Yout Majesty… that was… amusing, I – and so many of us – of course enjoyed… but some ears heard, or at least thought they heard, that the ball was dedicated to her.”

Oh, the open minds, so easy to delve into. How delicious to bring them up.

“The false ears were already cut and executed” Lorian’s aura strengthened, his shadows creeping slightly from behind him. His smile is even more charming than before. “Those who brought you lies – as I cherish your wellbeing and right to have access to truth – will never speak again.”

Alnam’s face would become paler, if not perfect self control the lord had. He was old enough to keep his reactions on a leash.

“Excuse me for being wrong, Your Majesty” this time his tone was serious, sharp and hard like stone, yet his lips forming a perfect smile. “Maybe I should listen to truthful tongues only. I am sure that we don’t lack those around us.”

Nymre wanted to slap him in the face, leaving talon marks.

Lorian though, as always composed and calm. He needs to share that confidence with her. She admired that… and it annoyed her to no end.

“More tongues to be proven of being false or true” Lorian chuckled. “Sifting the grain from the tailings always is more than rewarding. So many little details, exposed before one’s eyes.”

Alnam face was a mask of perfect calm, controlled and reserved. Lorian felt his thoughts, washing over him with pure darkness, with clear night. His mind took it and absorbed, like a wave of sweet liquor.

“I will mind to never listen to those who come with too obvious lie. Your reminder was most needed, Your Majesty. I don’t plan to make any further mistakes.”

He did know what Alnam wanted to achieve with that – he liked it. As any fey, he enjoyed trying to win without causing a war. Pushing the dagger in a place where it won’t bleed. Attacking without attack, his void sending tendrils of despise Lorian’s way, to check where it hurts the most. He saw that in his thoughts, in his pained mind, still lit by dull anger, even now, even with so many yearss – and it was admirable, in an own, desperate way. Alnam was an owner of personal army, he was assuming he can allow himself for that, that Lorian won’t risk losing his followers. Yet, didn’t know so many things, still – like the fact that Lorian’s power grew, fed by god’s blood. By god’s pain.

And that Lorian didn’t become his ruler because he was just unpredictable or cruel.

In Alnam’s eyes he was a self-centered child, who got the crown, and uses it at a whim.

Let him think so. He wouldn’t be able to prove otherwise, either way.

Alnam was as simple in his hatred, as complicated in his way of thinking. Part of him was still unknown… and part – an open book.

Combined, he was making a thrilling enemy. Lorian enjoyed this game more than he would admit to Nymre – who would just kill him, removing all threat. And adding a war between the Unseelie to the plot.

But putting him on his knees will be delightful. With all the importance, with all his power, with all his hatred, Alnam was best exercise to Lorian’s brain that his court would provide.

After all, they both were braiding a net of lies and truths, which was to capture the other. Yet… Alnam had small black hating dot on his iris. And that blind spot in his eye will be his doom.

One drop.

One pull.

Overwhelming.

Curse it.

Like a star opening in his body.

The fire slowly started to creep into Lorian’s veins. Licking his insides with tongues made of white flames, starting to slowly liquify him, burning holes in his flesh, which would drip with molten tendons if visible .

His face showed not indication of the beginning of the daily horror. His smile impecable, his pose aloof.

Yet… it was a reminder. Reminder he can’t lose.

Leira felt surprising conflict, looking at Mina.

Her thoughts swirled around what happened in the ballroom. As Lorian’s personal servant, she had access to all gatherings, in case her Lord needed her. And she was definitely ready for all what happened, even without knowing Lorian’s plans. A human girl on fae ball was as peculiar as a bird invited on the meeting of the wild cats. Leira waited until something cruel happens.

But now, the girl was forced to stay forever in a fey realm. With such willing heart, with such joy from tasting the core fruit, Mina won’t be able to leave Ain’asel even freed by Lorian himself.

She ate that apple too, long long ago, all slaves with servant status had to do it. She ate it willingly, without spell or magic working on her mind. She preferred agreeing on it, rather than being forced by enchantment, she preferred being sober and conscious, not dazed and lost. She still remembered the texture of the flesh, the thick blood, which tasted like a summer dream. She didn’t regret it. After all, the human world is lost now. She wouldn’t have any places to go anymore, no friends, no family, no lovers…

Here, she was safer than she would be in the deep snow, waiting until a decaying beast devoured her in its eternal hunger.

Mina almost flew through her arms, when Leira supported her, taking her to the room from which she came. Leira would feel bad for her, for the spell that drilled her mind with long and insistent tendrils. But she knew Lorian always had a reason. She knew him long enough. She was almost afraid of the fact that she knew him but also didn’t know him at all.

But wanted to know him. Even against his laws and rules, against usual fairy scorn for humans. Against all what divided them, her cruel past and his actions. She wanted to know that feeling, when you abandon yourself in something forbidden.

And – to her surprise – she felt him better than she even felt her human lover. Who she killed at Lorian’s order.

Do not lie to yourself, at least.

Of course, Lorian’s reason for playing with this human child could be boredom. But… she felt it’s not the case. Mina was not a toy. If she was, why feed her a core apple? Toys lived very short and never were fed with blood.

Mina moaned, when she tripped and almost pulled Leira with herself.

Her big brown child’s eyes, hazy and lost, landed on Leira’s face.

She was so young. Leira rarely has seen young fey children, as most of them were growing up far from Dal’coler, far from the beating heart of darkness. But each human child she saw in the fae palace was reminding her how cruel this place was. Mina’s young face, her small form, everything screamed of not belonging here. But Lorian either way needed her and will do as he pleases with her.

Fae never felt sentiments, never considered anyone too young. They lived for thousands of years, and every human was just a falling star passing the vast sky for them.

And humans were nothing more than a flesh from which they sculpted an enchanted prison of souls.

Mina stumbled again.

Leira’s graps tighter, allowing the girl to lean on her more. Mina hanged on her dress and pulled, she supported her head on her side. Her thick brown hair scattered around her head like a halo.

“Come” she decided to speak, to just break the silence and took her over the steep stairs, leading to a columned corridor. Here, the spellbound atmosphere was lighter, muted like in the ballroom. Here, was the room of this girl.

Leira still felt undecipherable, raw emotion under her heart. The sight of Mina was both wrong and strangely pure in its morbid way. Bloodied hands, and dress, empty eyes and an innocent face. Long gone emotions ran through her.

But her heart long ago stopped pumping human blood. She could feel pity for Mina, misplaced, weak… but she knew the rules of Dal’coler, which she grasped fast and mercilessly. She was never like Mina. She was never like anyone. Scary, fascinating realization.

Enchanted child in  the enchanted castle, learning magic, to shatter her own shackles.

If Mina ever knew how humans can change here… maybe she will change as well. Or die, if she won’t.

The girl’s room was spatial, but not enormous. The High Fae chambers were much bigger. But it had a typical design of the Unseelie interior – stained glass scenes, which the fey were fond of, sculptures – obscure and grotesque in their stunning and dangerous beauty… and above it all, it held the sense of something hiding behind your back, that stayed with you, even after all those years.

Perhaps there were things behind her back. After all, magic drifted in these rooms, and passages, filling them with disturbing presence.

Leira laid Mina on the bed. The girl sighed and immediately curled in the fetal position. Leira felt that leaving her in a bloodstained dress was cruel, but disrobing her and leaving her in nothing – she wasn’t given fresh clothes – seemed somehow wrong for Leira.

Mina instinctively captured the hand of Leira, and Leira quickly withdrew it.

This girl is lost already. And you will live here for hundreds of years. You will forget this child, and you will become cold on the pain of her likes.

Leira, through the mist, remembered her homeland. South of Avras. Large woods and murmuring rivers. A sad and empty – yet wealthy – life of a daughter of a sad and empty – and very rich – landowner. She had someone who was important to her, in another life. But she couldn’t remember his face anymore.

Not that it was relevant, he died. Died, buried deep under the snow of her memory. She killed him. It was her own choice.

And it was not the faery cruelty which terrified her more, but her own desire to live – at every cost. Her swift hand, when she slit her lover’s throat, to stop Lorian’s torment.

They had the upper hand, playing with her soul and body, but she had still her will. And it was stronger than fae spells.

She was better here, even if among darkness and shadows, where she had protection. And she learned how to be useful and needed. How to share the secrets of Dal’coler with him.

Time passed and nothing changed. Lorian looked at her with the same attentive interest, which she started to feel in her bones and veins.

She learned how to be more than a human.

Or less.

She stared at the Mina peacefully falling asleep. So peacefully. Her hands and half of face hidden under a smooth and light sheets. Leira, slowly, withdrew and just as slowly, noiselessly, left the room, allowing the stained glass figures gaze morbidly as she slept – and strange sculptures to lean over her, looking just into her face.

Eyes set on her closed ones.

Open mouth, like surprised by her innocence.

Outstretched hands, frozen in time, wanting her soul, but never being able to steal it.