The Fairy Queen Page 18

  Every stolen look. Every casual and not so casual touch.

  My heart sang.

  But as I blinked the sleep from my eyes, I realized with a sinking heart that he wasn’t here anymore. He’d vanished, as he was often prone to do.

  I trusted Syrith implicitly. And did not doubt that he cared for me. But through the weeks, I’d begun to wonder just where it was he’d go off to in such secrecy.

  The Harpy?

  Nibbling on my bottom lip, I shook my head. No, I wouldn’t go there. I’d choose to believe in him, not allow doubts to poison my mind. With Syrith, I was determined to start anew. To be different from whom I’d been. For him, I would try to be a better person.

  Hopping to my knees, I bunched the comforter in my hands. I did not need to search the hut to know he wasn’t in it any longer. I felt his absence as keenly as the sharp strike of a blade.

  Looking at the open door of my bedroom, I began to think thoughts. Where was he? Was he safe? Did he need me?

  Sometimes he’d return from wherever he’d been looking bruised and sore. His eyes shaded by exhaustion. Today when he returned, I would finally be brave and ask him.

  Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I bit down sharply, causing my fangs to pierce the soft meat. I hissed as my blood tingled upon my tongue.

  “Do not worry, Galeta. He is well. He must be.” My voice quivered.

  I no longer thought he’d leave me. I no longer worried about that. Of one thing I was absolutely certain—my Beast needed me as deeply as I needed him.

  Deciding it was past time to get up, I hopped from the bed. I would try to keep up some form of normalcy. I took time with my appearance today. And who knew, maybe by the time I’d finished, he’d return to me.

  Stomach twisting from a mass of nesting butterfly wings, I grabbed hold of it and forced myself to breathe in and out. I’d never really cared before what anyone thought of my appearance.

  Yes, I’d been vain, but in my own way. Before, my looks had been geared more toward intimidation than wanting to attract any member of the opposite sex. I’d purposefully kept my appearance deceptively youthful with those ridiculous corkscrew curls and young features. I’d made myself appear like a living, almost demonic-looking doll, knowing just how off-putting that persona was for others.

  Flicking my fingers over my face, I called my true features to the fore. Gone was the face of a youth. I was a woman true. Appearing to be in my midthirties now. There were slight wrinkles around my eyes, frown lines I’d developed over the eons. No laugh lines, though, which tended to happen when one rarely found humor in life.

  Mouth parting just slightly, I studied the face of the woman before me. Seldom had I indulged in truly looking at myself. My features were softer, prettier than I remembered. My eyes, a deeper blue now, sparkled with hidden wonder. Blooms of first love. My stomach quivered, and I forced myself to breathe slowly in and out.

  I’d given Danika such grief for her choices. What a hypocrite I was. And yet—I smiled softly—I would never take it back.

  My nose was petite and perfectly situated. My lips, fuller on the bottom than the top, fangs sticking out a very little even when I did not smile. I had plump cheeks, and was rosy complected. I was pretty, but it felt as if I stared at a stranger.

  I did not know this woman standing before me. For so long, I’d been the malicious youth, and I’d grown used to that image. It was my armor against the world. But, for better or worse, Syrith had changed me completely. My gaze landed on the buttery gold of my hair.

  When had it stopped being blue? Picking up the thick hank over my shoulder, I studied the tips of it. So much of me had changed in so little time, I wasn’t quite certain how to handle this.

  Heart hammering painfully in my chest, I squeezed my eyes shut. What would happen when I finally left this place? Would I become who I once was again? It’d been many days since I’d thought of my hysteria and desperation to end my life. But I did now. The vial, which had never left my pocket, now felt suddenly heavy and branding. I could never become that monster again. But I knew my time here would come to an end.

  I felt the magic of this realm fracturing more and more each day. The broth yesterday morning, for instance, hadn’t tasted as rich and delicious as previous days. It’d been water with seasoning. And though there was more color now, it wasn’t as saturated as it’d been when the flame of the hearth had first turned red. Life bloomed, but it was also slowly dying.

  I hadn’t told Syrith this, because I’d not wanted him to worry. A part of me began to suspect that the moment all color returned to this realm might also be the moment I ceased to be.

  I didn’t know for certain—it wasn’t as if the Harpy had returned to me and confirmed this. But I knew magic, and my inner core felt a great disturbance rubbing like an agitated hornet’s nest within me. Something dark and bleak was coming, and I wasn’t sure I would survive it.

  My eyes flashed open. Best not to go too far down that depressing path. Focus on something else, fae.

  Dropping my hair, I called forth a brush. A task. That was what I needed. Something to help me focus less on these rapid changes overcoming me and simply lose myself in the mundane of the day to day.

  Brushing out the thick knots in my hair I’d allowed to form after days of not taking good enough care of myself, I began to slowly feel better. I thoroughly brushed my teeth, not once but twice.

  Standing before the mirror, I decided to alter my gown too. A wand was good for big magic; it helped me to channel my focus. But rearranging my wardrobe was hardly beyond the realm of my meager abilities.

  What to wear had always been an easy decision for me before.

  Ice.

  An outward reflection of my inner torment.

  But I no longer felt so conflicted, so torn. Flicking my wrist, I fashioned a gown from the magic pulsing around me. I didn’t take much, but I grinned, feeling good and clear headed as I worked. It’d been so long since I’d created anything.

  Fashioning a gown based on memories of others I’d always secretly envied, I had to take a step back and grin happily when I’d finished. It floated before me, beckoning. It was glossy, a soft blue color, and sparkled from tiny clear gems that’d been looped through the threads.

  “To me,” I whispered to it. And, instantly, I’d swapped out dresses.

  The cut of the dress was daring. Held up only by a neck strap, accentuating my small breasts so that they appeared plumper than usual, and framing my slender waist prettily. But it was the back of the gown that caused my wings to flutter in anticipation of what he might think when he saw me in it.

  Many years ago, I’d stumbled across a woman I’d found lovelier than almost anyone else I’d ever known. Her name had been Siria, but most of Kingdom had simply known her as the sun.

  Once, she’d been an innocent.

  Though I’d not destroyed her as I had so many others. I’d rather liked Siria. She’d been doomed to love the moon, but he’d never returned her affections. She’d sought out my counsel now and again.

  And I’d given it.

  Though it’d come to nothing, because in the end Danika had turned the Moon’s head, and he’d never looked back.

  But one of the things I remembered most about Siria were her gowns. Creations crafted of sunlight and imagination.

  Drawing from the memory of one I’d particularly enjoyed, I twirled on my heel and studied the long, smooth form of my bare back. My wings were on full display. I fluttered them gently, feeling slightly scandalized to be wearing something that covered so little.

  But I wanted him to see me for who I really was.

  The long strands of my hair slid down my back, but it was distracting, hiding my curves. Thinning my lips, I decided to go all in.

  Touching the barest tip of my finger to a slight curl, I murmured, “Menus.”

  Instantly, my hair shortened, going from waist length to chin length, revealing the smooth, long lines of my neck and
keeping my back on full display.

  My pulse pounded thick in my veins at the drastic change.

  What if he didn’t like short hair? What if I’d been wrong? Perhaps I shouldn’t have cut it. Maybe I should have braided it, or—

  Galeta! Where are you?

  Sucking in a sharp breath, I twirled at the sound of my name.

  Help. Help!

  The voice hadn’t sounded like Syrith, but there was panic laced throughout. I shook my head as dread slithered through my gut.

  “I’m coming, Syrith! I’m coming.” I raced from the shelter of my hut. My heart pumping so violently within me, it was painful. Forgetting about such trivial nonsense as gowns and hair, I raced for him as fast as I physically was able.

  I didn’t think where I went. Didn’t stop to question what I was doing. All I knew was he needed me, and I would never let him down.

  Please! Don’t do this...

  What was happening to him? Was someone hurting him? To hurt him was to wound me. I would kill anything that dared. That old hate, old violence rode me hard. It would be so easy to surrender to that darkness again.

  So, so easy.

  Blinded by my tears and panic, I stopped running and flew. Losing myself in one twist after another. Not giving heed to where I headed. Moving deeper and deeper on the path of shifting, rotating colors. Sweat coated my brows. My wings. My body.

  Every inch of me trembled. My muscles ached. My mouth tasted of cotton. Blood pounded through my ears.

  But I would not stop.

  Not until I found him. Not until he was safe again.

  The forest began to twist around me. Images formed, memories of the past that came flooding in. I shook my head.

  What was this?

  I stopped flying when a scene coalesced before me. A man with hair of black and skin of ivory stared back at me. He shook his head. Fear scrawled terrible lines across his normally handsome face. He stood alone upon the stern of his ship, clinging to a red crushed-velvet gown.

  His eyes looked haunted, dark. The silver hook of his hand glinted in the night.

  I trembled, for I did not remember this memory at all. What was this madness?

  The male looked up. At me. Directly at me. His eyes burned like flame. And a slick sense of unease slithered through my belly like the tight coils of a snake’s undulation.

  A terrible feeling of foreboding took me. Where was Syrith? I’d heard his voice. Hadn’t I?

  “What have you done?” Tears streamed down the vision’s cheeks, and a look of utter desolation had scrawled itself upon his expressive face.

  I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if perhaps the rest of the memory were behind me, but there was nothing there, not even trees. It was black, barren, empty.

  “I speak to you, fae,” he snarled, the sadness now replaced by a rage so thick, it was a palpable stench in my nostrils. I began to shake, cupping my hands to my arms and denying what it was I was seeing.

  This was no memory of mine. But the breeze kicked up with the scent of salt and the brine of the ocean deep. Hook’s face contorted with madness. “Say something! Tell me something. Tell me you did not do this, or so help me gods, I will skewer you like the rat that you are,” he spat.

  Surely he wasn’t talking to me—memories couldn’t do that. But when I looked back at him, he’d walked closer, until now his face was so close to mine, I could practically feel the wash of his breath tingle upon my flesh as he growled, “You swore to do right by us all, and still you failed. Selfish creature that you are, you stole my happy ending, and now I’ll steal yours.”

  His hook slammed into my gut, and I screamed, dropping to my knees. Murderous rage was all I saw.

  Chapter 18: In Which a Fairy Is Finally Ready to Let Go...

  Syrith

  I arrived not too long after in a world bathed in darkness. Aphrodite had vanished already, but my clone awaited me.

  Her corkscrew curls were no longer. Her hair was now thick waves that fell to her waist in a shower of malleable gold.

  Her face was pale, her eyes wide. She gripped her wand tight.

  “Syrith,” she said softly, and I nodded.

  These were two different women, both sharing one soul. But one wasn’t real. And yet my heart beat with love for each.

  “Fairy,” I said deeply. “What is the matter?”

  She shook her head, tiny fangs nibbling on her bottom lip. “We haven’t much time before the last couple arrives, but I wished to say something to you. I’ve been dreaming of a world of mirrors and gilded colors. You’re there. And you love me.”

  Her words were soft. A statement, but also a question. Her stare was quizzical, curious. Asking me to please tell her she wasn’t crazy.

  I swallowed hard, not sure what to say. Unsure whether the clone was even allowed to know who she really was. Wondering if maybe by telling her I’d be breaking some laws of magic. Unwittingly causing a future catastrophe. I simply didn’t know enough about magic to know what I could and couldn’t do. I bit down hard on my bottom lip, pleading silently with my eyes that she not question me further.

  She thinned her lips. “You don’t have to tell me anything, beast, because I already know. I know who I am and who I am not.”

  I stepped closer to her. Her electric-blue wings fluttered powerfully, causing a caress of wind to gently beat against my body. As I remembered the fairy I’d left lying on the bed this morning, my heart could no longer distinguish between the two.

  “I love you, Galeta the Blue. With all my soul and all my heart,” I whispered. “Whoever you are, it matters not to me. You, every part of you, is precious to me.”

  I trekked a finger along her jaw, and her lashes fluttered prettily. “I may be merely clay and magic, dragon, but I love you too. Whatever you’re doing with me, it’s working.”

  My lips parted. I’d told this clone nothing, and yet she’d managed to work out the truth of it on her own. Tiny sliver of soul or not, I recognized the imprint of the woman I loved, and groaned deeply.

  Leaning forward, she gave my lips the merest of kisses. Just a whisper of touch really, but I felt that touch whip and flex through my bones with the force of a violent wave.

  We were so caught up in one another that neither of us noticed the couple had arrived until we felt the heated blast of flame spiral our way. Time suddenly seemed to slow to a crawl, and I noticed things I wouldn’t have otherwise.

  Fiera, the elemental goddess of fire, floated a few yards away.

  Dressed in a gown of living flame, she mouthed two words to me.

  I frowned. Instead of moving away, I stayed where I was. My feet rooted to the nothingness beneath me.

  I’m sorry.

  It was what she’d said, but I couldn’t understand it.

  And then time spun forward, moving in a dizzying blur.

  “No!” Galeta screamed, shoving me away. Moving into the very spot I’d been occupying. That bolt of fire, it’d been coming directly at me.

  But instead of hitting me, it hit her. Square in the chest, heaving her back violently. Tossing us both down.

  “Galeta! Galeta!” I scrabbled for her. Reaching out blackened fingers to her. Only just realizing the goddess’s flames had licked at me too.

  My beautiful fairy was no more.

  Her body lay in a sizzling heap before me. Her chest was concaved and steaming, and her flesh was blackened. The wand was gone.

  Roaring toward the heavens, I shifted into a beast. But Fiera was already gone.

  It’d all happened so fast.

  The clone had saved me.

  That thought hammered at my skull like cannon fire. The clone who couldn’t love. Who couldn’t be more than what she was. She’d sacrificed herself for me.

  My hands shook. A mixture of pain, humbled gratitude, and shock.

  “Galeta, my beauty. My love, open your eyes.” I gathered her crumpled form to me. But her eyes were closed, and the light had left them.

 
Soul feeling fractured within me, and sick at my stomach, I dry heaved. The anger beating inside of me was full and vengeful, but there was no escape for it. The world became a watercolored canvas. Dragon tears could heal.

  I dripped one after another onto her form, but nothing changed.

  “Syrith, release her now and come with me.” Aphrodite was back and holding out her hand to me.

  “No. No! She can’t be dead.” I forgot that she was simply a clone. I forgot that this Galeta was not my Galeta, because she was. There’d been a sliver of soul in her. What’d happened to it? Was it lost forever?

  Every part of her was mine.

  “She is not dead. The clone is. But you need to come with me now, dragon. Your true fairy needs you!”

  Hissing, I stared at the goddess of Love with blind rage and hatred as tears leaked uselessly from my eyes, only giving her words half an ear. Shock kept me rooted where I was. I shook my head, trying to clear the webbing of watching the woman I’d loved die before my eyes.

  “Syrith! Snap out of it!” She rushed forward, kneeling before me and grabbing hold of my vest and giving me a firm shake. “Listen to me, boy. Your woman is dying. You must get to her. Now!”

  Finally, her words penetrated my agony.

  “What?” I gasped, confused and disoriented, feeling as though I’d just watched my woman perish, and yet my Galeta still lived.

  “She’s not truly dead, Prince.” Aphrodite pleaded with wide eyes. I frowned. “Just this clay. Just this bit of soul. But if you don’t want to lose the rest of her, you need to get up now and come with me! Galeta will respond to no other but you. Now come!”

  Desperate to avert the same fate twice, I reverently and gently laid my clone down. Closing her eyes with two fingers.

  “Where is she?” My humanity rumbled with the echoes of my beast.

  “Lost in the memories. She went in search of you, Prince. She is lost and in grave danger of losing herself to the past.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, I snatched her hand, jumped to my feet, and ran across the threshold of time and realms Aphrodite had already opened for us.

  Just as the tunnel began to close behind us, I saw Harpy appear. Her eyes were sad. Haunted. Her normally immaculate gown looking rumpled and wrinkled. Her hair was in wild disarray around her head. That was when I realized I’d neither seen nor heard from her in days.