Tiyan sagged like a tattered doll in Qhal’s arms. His eyes tried to find Lorian Ain’Dal, but the chamber disappeared from his view and he was dragged somewhere, violently. He knew that he failed, his heart was being pierced by a million iron splinters, and if he were a Fae, he would be dead long ago.
He felt Qhal’s breath on his ear and for the first time, really for the first time, he smelled his scent.
Leather and ginger.
How was it that he could only sense it now?
“You should be truly grateful, human creature,” Qhal whispered, a mockery in his silent voice. “You would lick these boots if I didn’t take you far enough. I have saved you from further humiliation.”
Tiyan’s last shred of pride threw itself into his chest like a wild squirrel.
“You have no right to demand or ask,” Qhal continued, pushing him forward; Tiyan’s feet carried him, numb and weak. “If the king says you will see your sister, you will. If you behave, of course. You mean nothing here. Only as much as your usefulness.”
Tiyan’s eyes registered other fairies who looked at him with big empty eyes as they passed, the eternal hunger painted on their small faces, glistening with unearthly light. Through the fog of Lorian’s enchantment that still lingered in his head, he saw a small, colourful-winged fey holding something in her almost transparent hands. Her lips were bloodied. She stood, her gaze fixed only on him.
She was holding a tiny human hand, and as Tiyan walked beside her, she gleefully bit through it, revealing an array of sharp teeth, blood dripping onto her exposed collar.
A dream.
A nightmare.
Other Fae were a blur since then, pointing at him with laughter and sweet words, dragging him to the edge of sanity. Qhal brushed them off, all of them, like impertinent children he had the right to remove from his path.
Tiyan knew he lost. But his wild hope fought that knowledge, tried to pump strength into his veins – and his mind. The same hope that had brought him here, through danger and snow.
Usefulness.
He will be useful, but only if they show him Mina – safe and untouched.
Dal’coler was huge, sharp and oppressive. The walls and vast ceilings, huge arches of black stone, disappeared into the darkness that seemed to envelop every particle of this place. And it was beautiful. Like a cruel but enticing dream that you want to remember all your life – but you know you won’t.
He didn’t know what he was expecting from the palace of the fairies… but this fortress was an answer to something he had been pushing into the deepest cellars of his soul.
He tried to be a good man, all his life, after the war with the Fae. But in that same war, his nature proved to be dirty, cowardly and grey as the dolmen that guarded Inamora. He remembered his own actions, driven by fear, but also – he was sure – by a certain wickedness from which he so desperately wanted to purge his soul. All those years. All those tears in the service of others, trying to be good.
He was only nine at the time. But he did things he wanted to forget.
Fear.
Danger.
Cruel night.
It shaped him into someone he hated… and feared. Dal’coler pulled that hidden, greyish pale person out of his tortured heart. Showing it, dangling it before his eyes.
You know you could never surpass it, sweet Tiyan.
You are your mother’s child.
A woman who knew more about you than you could ever know.
You are the prey of darkness.
And the ruler of flames.
And your tears form a coffin for your kind.
Drowning them in delicious waste.
NO!
Tiyan was hurled into the room, and he was grateful for it. Qhal looked at him with disgust mixed with joy. Both feelings painted on his face like a jester’s mask.
“You… like… throwing me around, don’t you?” Tiyan heard his own raspy voice. As if it belonged to someone else.
“A small pleasure is still a pleasure,” Qhal’s throat glowed with suppressed light, he had to store all the time they spent in the forest in there. Another small fairy, this time with grey wings, peered in, and when she saw Tiyan, she immediately crinkled her nose. The wrinkles formed on her ethereal face, making her look for a moment like a monster from old tales – which she was. But her beauty quickly returned, radiant, breathtaking.
“Ah, how he stinks, ahar’sat,” she pursed her thin azure lips. “Noida!”
Tiyan could have sworn he heard Noyd’s name. His guts twisted uncontrollably. It couldn’t be her. She was in Inamora, safe, at least from the horrors of Dal’coler. They couldn’t have brought her here, could they?
But the person who came from behind the fairy was not her.
But she was a human.
And she had to be treated worse than a scabby dog.
Her arms were bruised, and her veins looked like swollen, dark veins shining through her papery, pale skin. Her bloodshot eyes, her trembling hands, they all screamed at Tiyan.
Noida.
Noyd.
No.
Noyd is far from here. With Korr, both awaiting his arrival.
Do not turn back, the monsters will only wait for that, to emerge from the shadows.
The human woman bowed to the small fairy. Fear in her eyes, real fear. She was not afraid like the people of Inamora, who knew they could be taken away, but still found joy in simple things. She was afraid because she had tasted the darkness and knew exactly how much acid it contained.
No escape. Humans were nothing here.
“Noida,” the fairy’s voice was joyful. A child’s one. “Do him.”
The girl looked at her, then at Tiyan. Back to the Fae, not fully understanding. But somehow… willing to obey any command, in the end. Tiyan’s heart beat fast.
“Prepare the bath for him, you foolish thing. His stench is foul. He must be as clean as river stone, he will serve King Lorian Ain’Dal.”
Hearing Lorian’s name, the girl petrified for a second. Fear of an even stronger nature shone in her eyes. But she knew her place.
“Should I also bring the tubes..?”
“Yes, yes, of course, stupid creature,” the fairy’s giggle made Tiyan’s stomach tingle. “He is made of shit. Do you want our Lord to bathe in shit?”
Her voice was still joyful and childlike, but Noida fell to her knees and touched the ground with her forehead. Tiyan felt a grasp of unwell again.
“No… No! I would never mean that! Please… I will prepare everything, quickly and well. All for our Lord…”
Qhal looked at her with an undecipherable expression until he seemed to have had enough of the spectacle.
“Do not prolong it, Khanis.”
The fairy – Khanis – smiled charmingly at Qhal.
“Slow moves are sweeter, ahar’sat Qhal.”
Qhal descended to her level, his pale hair falling on fairy’s arms. He leaned to her ear. And whispered something. Khanis grew paler. And then, red as a ruddy apple. Her teeth clenched as he spoke.
“As you command, Rai’har Qhal.”
“And take this,” he pointed at the sprawled human girl who still didn’t dare to get up.
Tiyan didn’t hear what he said to the little Fae, but somehow he didn’t want to know.
Or he wanted to.
Very much.
Alina told him that his curiosity was as pure as a stream in winter. But it was not. It was dirty. Just like his failures in the war. Like his weak soul.
*
The fairy hands reached under his clothes and pulled. There were three of them, and they removed his clothing as if he couldn’t do it himself. It seemed to give them joy, and when a small hand landed on a particularly shameful spot, it was surely on purpose.
They liked seeing his shame. A small pleasure is still a pleasure.
“He enjoyed travelling with Rai’har Qhal?” one of them wondered, and the others laughed. Tiyan gritted his teeth. At least he won’t play this game with them.
The three fairies looked at him in unison. Childish curiosity in their almost hollow eyes. Unhealthy.
“Enjoyed?”
“Adored?”
“Did Rai’har take him under his wings?”
A chuckle and they resumed undressing him as if nothing had happened. The shirt and old jacket and numerous scarves were already lying on the ornate chair next to the couch he was sitting on. One of the women pointed to the dirty trousers.
“And now this.”
“Such a stench…”
“He should have give his dirt to snow…”
A small pair of hand pushed down his trousers, the second threw them on the chair to join other parts of his wardrobe. The third, quick as a gust of wind, pulled off his underwear.
Tiyan had never felt so exposed. The fey eyes immediately landed between his legs. He almost felt their gazes, like a touch, on his private parts.
“Ah, a human dick.”
“Not too big…”
“Not too small either.”
“Too bad it’s as soft as a sponge.”
A clawed hand landed on his thigh and Tiyan backed away, fast as a flash of lightning. He pressed his legs together as if his life depended on it. He won’t let that happen, not that. As long as he has a chance to defend himself. They may have power, they can have spells… but he can still fight. He can still oppose. Showing before himself he is more than a prey.
The empty eyes were less hollow this time. A kind of sick pleasure gleamed in them.
“Humans can be so boring.”
“No fun, no joy.”
“But he is the king’s plaything. Perhaps better that he fears.
“The king likes resistance…”
“His skin is soft and pleasant to touch.
“Like a snow petal.”
“A treat not for us…”
“But we still can watch.”
Tiyan looked at his former clothes scattered on the chair.
“What shall I wear instead?” his voice caught in his throat. He could almost hear the fairies’ answer. Which he begged not to get. They didn’t care of his wellbeing, it was just a game, a playful game they will lead with him until they get bored with it. He was hopeful he won’t hear that answer, almost regretting he asked.
But he did.
“He needs to be bathed.”
“And cleaned.”
“And then… why clothes?”
“He looks so adorable, cowering like this.”
“And why clothes when he will be ready to serve?”