I'd better hide the doll before someone takes it from me. Although… I’d love to see Lilyfair’s reaction if she returned tofind me without it. My hundredth smile since morning pushes at my snout.
“There’s our hubull,” says the stranger. “Glad you aren’t too cross.”
As soon as the sconce alights, I drop to my knees in reverence. ItisKing Marigold, with a glittering crown and fur-lined cape. The heels on his shoes aren’t as tall as the guards. I bet he’s a head taller than any of them. I should be plotting to kill him, not bowing so deeply that I’m admiring his shoes. Why am I not ready to rip him apart with my bare hands for his crime of requiring a sentient individual in exchange for tax money? There shouldn’t be a price on another creature’s head. He probably thinks I find the large sum flattering, the way I genuflect with a stupid smile on my face.
Lilyfair must have bewitched me.
“It took the last hubull a few months to warm up to me, so I could apologize for bringing him here and explain the mission—your mission. I’m afraid we don’t have the same time frame, so I’m glad you have processed your anger. Well, stand up, son. Tell me your name.”
Now that we are standing face to face, I realize he is as tall as I am, and I revise my earlier estimate. He must tower over the guards in their heels. He’s fit too, but less bulky. His face is kind, despite the lack of lines I would expect a grey-haired man to wear. In fact, if he dyed his hair, I would guess he was younger than I am.
“Your name,” he repeats with a lop-sided smile that makes his grey eyes sparkle.
Here we go. How long until he becomes frustrated and assumes I won’t answer because I’m being argumentative? I don’t want to fight my captors—you lure more flies with honey than vinegar—but until they understand my mute nature, thefights will be inevitable. To communicate to him, I clutch my throat and release a raspy moo.
“You can’t speak, can you?” he asks, lifting a perfectly arched eyebrow.
I nod and shuffle my hooves. Oh, wait, that’s it? I drop to my hands and knees to push the dust into eight piles. I shape the first one into anF, the second into an arch that will serve as a lowercaseR. When an elder gave us the opportunity to learn to read and write, I was the only hubull to take them up on it. Of course, Bessy and Daisy were in the class too. Petunia lasted a day. Maribelle lasted less than two. While they saw it as another fun skill, I saw writing as my lifeline. Until today, I never had another person to communicate with, so I’d given up on reading and writing as a way of connecting with someone else.
“They volunteered you because you couldn’t protest,” the King says with a sigh. He kneels on the filthy floor, allowing his lavish cloak to lie in the dust. I should hate this man, but his power, combined with his patience, makes me want to lift his cloak and dust it off. Feelings I will analyze in the many hours I suspect I will spend alone. He waits as I form each letter. Why is my name so long? Should I have stopped at Frank? When we meet eyes, he isn’t irritated in the least. He’s genuinely interested in my name.
“Franklin,” he reads when I’ve finished. “Pleasure to meet you, Franklin. Thank you for your sacrifice. I’m not a cruel man, despite keeping you in my dungeon. You may not believe that now, but the last hubull in your position came to understand me and, with time, felt the honor of what I’m asking from you.”
I want to roll my eyes, but instead, keep them downcast. Disrespecting this benevolent ruler might keep me from escaping this cage. I’m warm, dry, fed, and with a comfortable bed, but the walls are closing in on me. Claustrophobia sits on the edges of my mind, threatening to turn me into a raging beast.The vast, purple sky, fields that go on for miles, and warmth from the twin suns are as necessary for me as breathing. Making this man understand that I will do whatever he asks if he will house me in a field is my top priority…much more than asking to return to the hucow sanctuary.
“I understand you met Lilyfair today—” he pauses to gauge my reaction. Surprise forces my gaze to meet his. He gives a half-hearted chuckle. “She leaves an impression on everyone she meets, so I’m not surprised she stole your heart, too. I give her more freedom than I should, but she’s all I have of her mother, who was just as mischievous. I’m a father before any other role and would do anything to ensure my daughter’s happiness…even let her run wild throughout the castle.”
He trails off and rises to stand. I stay on my haunches to give him space to collect himself. His sniffs echo along the stone walls. I’ve never fathered a calf, so I can’t imagine what it must be like to watch your child stand at the cusp of starting their own family. In the herd, calves are reared by the hucows who enjoy children. Nobody is the calves’ parents. They belong to the herd and are loved equally by all. The fact that he mentions his affection for Lilyfair warms my heart—no wonder she learned to be loving toward strangers.
“Lilyfair is sick,” he declares when he returns to stand over me. He extends his hand through the bars to hand me a jeweled compact. “Perhaps with time, I will trust you enough to give you the details—wait, who are you going to tell?”
Exactly. Who am I going to tell? My heart races and my breath puffs through my nose at the news. The sweet woman who snuck to the dungeon to give the prisoner a gift of comfort is sick?! I must know what she needs, and I will do it. Of all the rotten creatures in Magmell, why is her golden soul stuck in a sick body? How sick is she? Is she dying?
“Yes, she did leave an impression on you,” murmurs Marigold. “That’s good. That’s good.” He nods as I take the tiny glass jar from him.
It’s blue but pearlescent, with tiny flowers carved into it. I’m no flower expert, but I bet they’re lilies. The Fae know their flowers. When I open it, I’m blasted with the smell of flowers and—what is that stench? This makes no sense! The king doesn’t answer my quizzical look with more explanations. I risk getting the stench on my snout and lift the jar to my nose. My head rears back in disgust.
What is that precious Fae lady doing with a jar of bull spunk?
“It’s distasteful business,” Marigold says, smearing his hand down his face. When he lifts it, his eyes look tired, letting me see the old man who lives in his young body. “I tried to clean it out, but this is a delicate matter, one that must be kept secret—not even Lilyfair knows what’s in the jar. I’m not the best at washing and such…my upbringing didn’t include tours of the laundry or kitchens.” His chuckle is hollow and haunted as if he’s trying to cheer himself up more than share a joke with me.
I snort at the jest all the same.
He laughs harder until he releases a matching snort.
My chuckle crescendos to a wheezy rasp that makes him double over.
“This is what I had with Sirius. He knew all my secrets and was a confidant of sorts. It’s a relationship I had hoped to cultivate with you. I’m glad you are as intelligent, understanding, and attached to Lilyfair as he was. He wasn’t lucky enough to have met her—a regret I’ll hold the rest of my days—but he loved the stories of her capers. Because of his sacrifice, she survived to adulthood without the other Fae suspecting her secret. I hope—no, I need the same pact with you.”
I stand and reach my hand through the bars, pleading with my eyes for him to trust me. He takes my warm hand in both of his cold ones and squeezes. I wrap my coarse fingers around his smooth palm to convey my desire to be trusted. My nature is to be helpful and dependable—thanks to the herd—but this is different. I want a chance to repay Lilyfair for the kindness she showed me when I thought all hope was lost.
“You smelled Sirius’s seed because it is,” Marigold whispers with a croak at the end. “My daughter’s skin will age if not nourished with hubull ejaculate. I know you are thinking Fae don’t age…and that’s the problem. My daughter is part human… Her mother wasn’t banished for breaking our laws. She left the realm before anyone found out she was human and put her to death. Baby humans come into our realm as changelings, raised by Fae and released into the human realm. I fell for Begonia when she was barely of age, and we conceived Lilyfair before either of us saw sense. Leaving her family behind was the most brave, heart-wrenching, and selfless sacrifice Begonia was ever asked to do…but she did it…”
I lift my hand to collect the tear from the corner of his eye. I don’t pretend to deserve the honor of seeing a king cry. He understands my gesture, because he squares his shoulders and clears his throat.
“They would have killed her anyway,” he concludes in a matter-of-fact tone. He turns away, leaving my arms hanging limply through the bars.
I retreat to my bunk with the tiny glass jar and roll to face the wall. Images of Lillyfair being hunted by beautiful Fae for having laugh lines around her eyes or mouth haunt my mind. These thoughts replace all my proposed deals for my freedom or improvement in living conditions. Her safety means everything.
