The small fae pinched her cheek and laughed, a pearly sound, tingling in Sanis’ head.
“So sad. So cloudy. One could think that he is not grateful.”
“Chosen for the King and dressed so beautifully. She should rejoice and gleam. So gleam.”
“The King wants beautiful smiles and graceful bodies.”
Sanis choked on fear, not wanting to allow the tears to flow. That would only amuse them more and she didn’t want that. Amused fairies could be extremely unpredictable and cruel. After a month in Dal’coler, she knew them all too well. Dark hearts, and twisted sense of what is right and wrong. Distorted, like reflections in their empty eyes.
They hunted her at the same time, when she lost her family. Their king, who she will be entertaining tonight, ordered her father to dismember her mother, while she was still alive. And he did it. Somehow, forced by some strange urge, by some magic, he took the chopper and slowly cut her fingers, her hands, her toes and legs. All the time crying, all the time cursing and begging. His hands cut and sliced, methodically, trembling, her mother at first didn’t want to cry out, to give them satisfaction, but quickly screams were tearing from her, in waves. And the fae king observed it with a sickly gleaming face, pleased, amused.
Now, she knew that it was not worse what they can order humans to do.
And she dreaded in what way her life ends, if she fails tonight. She was a human, therefore, she was less than a worm in their eyes. So delightful to play with though…
“Ah, she will stain the blue robes! Such a ugly tear. Wipe it, Naksin. Wipe it fast.”
The fairy, Naksin, touched Sanis’ face and trailed a path on her cheek, where tears were falling down on the beautiful robe, tightly pressed to her body, exposing her curves.
“Bad tear” Naksin giggled, and lifted wet finger. “Lick it. Water is precious.”
Sanis didn’t know how to react at first, but the fairy stood with her finger up. This was almost an innocent gesture, but she didn’t want to oblige. Didn’t want to surrender.
The fairies stopped draping the dress on her, at once. All eyes on her, they looked like tiny statues, petrified in time. Staring at her with a promise of… much deeper attention.
It prolonged, the silence, and stares, Naksin tilted her head and two other fae did the same. She felt something pressing on her chest and she quickly understood, it’s their displeased auras. Light but sticky like old spiderwebs.
Eventually, she took the fey’s finger in her mouth and licked it off her own tears. Naksin’s giggle filled the air.
“She knows how to suck! Such a pleasant skill.”
“She will please royalty, please so much” smiled the even smaller fae.
“And she will get so much sweetness, her belly will be full and her tongue busy.”
Sanis hated them so much, but feared them more. Slaves in Dal’coler rarely lived more than a few months. She was here for a month. Humiliated day by day, she thought she was lucky that the fey king stopped being interested in her after taking her to his palace. But now, the luck has ended and the fey servants were preparing her like a treat, chosen to serve as entertainment.
“Many humans never get the chance. Lucky, lucky Goldenlock.”
“He likes light hair” she felt small hands in her blonde tangles but didn’t move. Allowed them for everything.
“And hers are like stardust, glimmering like sun between the leaves.”
A laughter, again. And hands, everywhere, making her ready for the meeting, making her beautiful. If that ever was important. If it was important now. Beauty… the fae kind loved all things beautiful. But it was external, their souls were rotting, like that tree in the center of the palace, where they were taking escapees. She saw one of them, after months passed since they took him. He was still alive, decomposing slowly in the wall, overgrown with vines and roots.
She met Naksin’s eyes, hollow like the night sky without stars. Not black, like fey king’s, not filled with dark endless void. But scary too, in their own way. Something lingering in them, something that was making her skin creep.
The tiny fairy took her hand, and dragged her before the mirror.
“Look. Isn’t she tempting? Stunning?”
Her clothes were made of water. She felt it, as it was sliding over her body, an unwanted caress. And it didn’t look stunning. Didn’t look tempting. It looked terrifying, like she was drowning in a sea of own tears.
“She cried a lot. A soul needs relief. A reflection. ”
Yes. Her own tears.
Her own ocean weaves.
In which she would d r o w n .
Like in her mother’s screams.
*
Their alcove was partially secluded. The feast was in its culmination point, Lorian observed the Unseelie court, his expression seemed bored, but his eyes were taking all. Kolerial Vern’ese, trying very hard to avoid being seen with Alnam Devlon. His thoughts calm like a summer breeze, but… a sliver deep inside them, vengeful, cruel, a true fae trait. And fear of being exposed, even if he had to be aware, that Lorian is not a fool and has a watchful eye on him. Leira… buried like a sharp knife in the crowd, his gaze was sometimes catching her, a pallid apparition between predators. She was concealed with protective bubble of a spell, the fairies were seeing her… but not noticing. When the cacophony of thoughts was too overwhelming, Lorian knew he can count on her observations; eyes and ears.
Nymre lazily laying by his side, her dress, which was making her curves seem even fuller, even… tastier, stretched over her like a second skin. They both wore feathered collars, thick and black like a night. Gleaming silver threads were binding them with the rest of their attire. Nymre’s robe had fairy lights trapped in the fabric, sewn into it, yet still shining with slowly dying light. A gift from him. The same dying lights were forced into his raven collar, the feathers glowing like touched with dark stars.
Ah, the Court of grinning faces, his own kingdom of false smiles and admiring gazes. Dal’coler, so rotten, but robed in gauze and silk, soft and immaculate. So breezy and light, yet eaten to the core. His own playground, his own threatening pet, which he still didn’t tame, but enjoyed so much submitting it to his will. Lorian, seated on the soft pillows, observed as the faeries dance, spread enchantment and plots under the safe cocoon of their own spells.
What surprise it would be for them, if they knew he can look past them, shatter their bubbles, invade their lies.
You are one of your kind, sitting among the crowd of fools. Gifted with so much, offered all the most powerful traits of faery magic… but you are alone, even with Nymre by your side, even with Leira, who dug a deep hole in your chest, filling it with flames and hot coals. Lovely pain, another one you take and change into pleasure.
And they only partially know what you really are. All of them, at once, would jump to tear your neck, in most fragile places, bathe in your blood, winter court against gods in your veins, fairies against a winter lord – if they would find a small crack in your stone-like surface you created around yourself.
A smile bloomed on his lips. Nymre leaned over his arm and nonchalantly fixed position on his feathered collar.
“They lie, Lorian. It’s the most boring feast, and all because Lord Taniel is not able to throw a worthy banquet.”
“Shall I execute him for that?”
Nymre laughed. Her fingers were still playing with feathers on his arm. Long fingers, sharp nails, like talons of the cahars bird.
“Maybe… My boredom is an insult for any sensible feast. And you know, how easily entertained I am.”
“That would be an affront for you, my cruel raven” he smoothed her pale lock of hair by her ear. “You are the most insatiable creature I know.”
The music took more joyful tones. The flurry of notes, light and breezy, enveloped the hall, causing some of the fairies to laugh or pull their partners to dance. They acted like children, he thought, like children who behave well under the watchful eye of an adult. That was part of his court, he adored. His children, some of them listened out of fear, some – out of love. Both kinds were dangerous in their childlike cruelty.
“Lord Taniel… has truly delightful tastes” he mused. Nymre scoffed. Her hair fell on his arm and he felt the intense scent of ocean breeze, mixed with the light smell of tulips and fresh moss.
It was Nymre, ocean, moss and flowers. Beautiful, like waves taking the harbor’s houses into its possession during tidal.
“He is bound to autumn, my lord” she replied, her tone mocking.
“Do not underestimate autumn, Nymre. Autumnal lords on our side would be an impeccable addition to my supporters. But they fear winter… they think it’s vile and dark. Winter is too harsh for them… kills retreating birds too fast, freezes leaves which still didn’t fall from the trees. Makes everything stop for them… even if they want to thrive and move.”
“Alnam Devlon surely is not stopped in a mid step” her eyes caught the sight of the Lord of Devlonmere, talking with none other than Siv Taniel.
Lorian’s smile was youthful and so natural, that if Alnam looked at him in that moment, he would start questioning himself.
“He is old, Leira. Older than me, even” Lorian’s took the sip from his chalice, not even needing to look in his direction. He felt his mind, spreading like a hateful balm over him. “And I know his thoughts. Barrier behind barrier, cracking slowly under the heaviness of his anguish, but barriers created in pain are the strongest ones. They will stand for years, if not crashed just in the right place. His emotions though, his hatred… I can see it all. It’s… beautiful, stunning in its complexity, in its despair. What I would give to be able to sink my teeth into his hidden world.”
He could feel it displeases Nymre. Lord Devlon could destroy the fragile construction of his court, where everything relied on beauty, power, lies and temptations.
But that was the thrill. He created an enemy and he decided to take pleasure from it.
Nymre was even more worried and angry, since she knew his secret. That was one of the reasons why he didn’t tell her long ago. He knew she would feel more pain, more torment herself with “what ifs”. Now, their relationship was even more fierce, even more passionate, but more dipped in pain. Something he knew will happen. One day.
“I respect Alnam. I like his determination. And his influence is not something I can ignore. He taught me a lot about sense of purpose. But I will resolve it, when he makes one step too far.”
“When.”
“Yes. Not if. He will make this step. I respect all sensible enemies; but the punishment should be worthy of respect I feel.”
“Lorian…”
The fairies around them parted, to make way to someone. The talks ceased, slowly fading into the thin air. A small fae, with light glittering wings, led a human slave, bound on a leash. Her dress was made of ocean waves and her hair was draped with starlight. Real starlight, trapped within small crystals. She would look like a lady, if not her round ears and… fear in her eyes, so much of pure, unadulterated panic.
Nymre slid with her gaze over the almost perfect body of a woman – perfect for a human. Lorian felt her aura become darker, anger seeping in. He leaned over her, and taking her chin into his finger he smiled, almost touching her lips with his.
“She is my gift… to you. You know what I like. But I know what you like as well.”
“Lorian, you awful bastard…”
“I will give you her life, a burning liquor of her humanity.”
“I will drink your liquor, if you dare…”
“And pleasure, for both of us” he purred. “She will feed us, make us full.”
The small fairy dragged the girl to a seat made of pillows and handed the leash into Lorian’s hand. His fingers closed over the golden chain and pulled, strong; the human lost balance and fell to her knees. Her eyes raised, just to meet Lorian’s. The fae king offered her his most charming smile. Held for the likes of her. And enemies.
“I remember each human I hunted. And I remember you, Sanis Morana.”
She didn’t move, petrified. Of course, she remembered too.
“I remember you… and your brave family” , his smile holding all the horrors of Dal’coler. “I like when humans are able to stand against me. Even if it’s all futile.”
He saw tears in her eyes. Yes, she remembered. Lorian couldn’t stop his aura becoming hotter, his shadows boiling around him, like a high bonfire flames. Nymre thoughts racing fast.
Her aura flamed up too, though.
Lorian pulled harder. The woman crawled closer to him, the fae around them started to beam with anticipation.
Alnam Devlon looked at him with a blank face, far from distance. Almost resembling the lesser faery now, with their empty eyes.
Nymre closed her hand on Lorian’s thigh, her nails buried deep. He sighed, feeling her aura intruded his own and drowned in it, almost like sex, almost like becoming one. Their magic knew each other… but each time, it cracked with a small storm, when they were joining.
He moved so fast that the human woman didn’t manage to scream, he pulled her on his lap, and his hands lowered her down, on Nymre’s knees.
Nymre leaned over and kissed the girl’s lips.
They tasted of tears.
“Please…” Sanis moaned into her mouth. Her body trembled under the sensation of Lorian’s magic. “No… please…”
He could sense Nymre’s thoughts… this woman’s body, enveloped by darkness, soft like cobweb…
“… sweet human child” he whispered, dripping with cloying honey, almost sickening. “You promise so well…”
His playful gaze drifted to Nymre.
“Do not oppose, my raven. I know that her pale skin tempts you” he smoothed her blonde hair behind Sanis’ ear and casually pulled her sleeve, his other hand dragging her dress up, up, to her thigh. “You crave this as much as I do. Human innocence, ready to be shattered between our fingers…”
The woman moaned helplessly, when Nymre’s teeth sunk into her wrist. Blood started to slowly trickle, between his cruel raven’s teeth. Nymre sighed into the wound…
… And he felt she was so ready. For everything. For his cruelty and for his love. For his games and his affection. Human blood boiled in her, something no sensible Unseelie could say no to.
His teeth sank in the woman’s breast. Blood gushed, veins pumping the delightful treat just into his throat. He felt a rush to his head, to his loins and his whole being – one which almost frightened him, and which he rarely admitted to, even before Nymre; especially to Nymre, darkness of another kind – until the taste of blood didn’t bring him again to reality. Nymre reached between his legs, and squeezed.
“Hghmm… no…”
The woman started to oppose; she began to toss, meekly. But Lorian loved resistance.The faery court around them seemed to delve into his feelings right now and pull out the bloody rapture. They wanted it too. They wanted to join in.
But they knew they could only watch.
His hand reached under Sanis’ dress, it gleamed with darkness, when he pressed. Shadows entered her, deep, deeper, hot and unforgiving caress. She tossed again, but Nymre held her in place, licking the blood off her wrist.
He kissed the torn breast, and lifted Nymre’s head up, by her pallid hair, almost violently; she latched to his bloodied mouth so rapidly, hungrily. Almost biting into them, her aura trembling with desire.
“You know so well… what I like…” she whispered into his mouth. “You tease everyone. Me. Your court. All. And I love that.”
He chuckled into her lips, inhaling her ocean scent. He had them all, on his plate. Yearning. Wanting.
“A game I am never tired of playing.”
*
Sanis got lost in the mazes made of roots and branches. She was taken from the feasting chamber to some place, which looked like made of raven feathers and darkness incarnate. The fae king and that terrifying woman, looking into her soul… they made so many crevices in her, yet it was never enough. They wanted her so open and… full.
Full of his shadows, full of him.
The goddess left her, when she bled between his legs, when he was taking her and when she was given something to drink. The taste of it, sweet but salty. With a scent of violets…
The magic enveloped her like hazy mist, digging deep into each new hole they created.
His laugh, soft and mocking, somehow pretty… but what they were doing with her was pretty not. Only eyes and pain, when he was making her his. His very own.
The winged woman, again latched to her skin. Something grew in her, something very wrong.
“You are so full, Sanis… it’s such a sight…”
“So full…”
The little fairy ordered her to lick her fingers, innocent, kind. But the fairy knew. She knew how this would end. She sent her here, so she could be full and happy.
Her tears smeared on her cheeks, when he gifted her with liquid delight… again.
Blood.
Pain.
But it was not the end for her.
When she was left in her room, and the horror ended, her whole being smelled of violets. Her body trembled, when small fairies took care of her – or at least she thought it was that they were doing. Her bloodied, wounded limbs, has been slowly washed by tiny hands. Sometimes she heard a small laugh and the fairies were plastering to her, like a sticky honey.
“Next week…”
“Next week, she will please him again…”
“Such a delightful blood…”
“And invigorating tears…”
Her reflection gleamed in the washing pot, crimson water showed her face.
And it was red. Like her soul.
Like her future, painted with violent, cruel brushes.
“Next week…”
“Sweet girl…”
“She can’t wait…”
“She can’t wait to shine again…”