She nods, a small yet powerful gesture. “So… can you let me go? Can you just point me in the right direction to go home?”
It hurts me to answer her honestly. “As much as I want to help you, we need your help more. We’ve… we’ve been waiting too long for you to just let you go.”
Her arms wrap around her chest, the movement making her appear even smaller, more fragile, and my resolve falters for just a heartbeat. The vulnerability radiating from her makes me ache to protect her, to shield her from the harsh, unforgiving world of fae politics and ancient curses that waits ahead.
“What do you want from us, Alette?” I ask, my voice low, careful, as I attempt to peel back the layers of her fear. “What can we offer you to come with us willingly?”
She flinches. Her eyes flicker to me briefly, but she doesn’t answer right away. For a long moment, she simply stands there, her face unreadable. It bothers me. I’m a man who can read anyone; it’s a skill I’ve honed through a lifetime of studying people. After a lifetime of standing back, watching, and letting others show who they are, I find myself utterly perplexed by this human. She’s a puzzle I can’t quite decipher.
My gaze drifts briefly to the other kings as they enter our little clearing, noting the looks of frustration on their faces. They’d clearly overheard our conversation, and are just as lost as I am, but there’s an undercurrent of something else, sharper and crueler. They’re focused on getting back their magic, our magic. They’re thinking about the labyrinth, what Alette represents, and about the curse and what we need from her.
She’s a tool, our tool, to finally make us whole again. What she wants as a person matters little in the bigger picture, and yet, it matters completely. Because if we can’t give her what she wants, this mission will have failed before it even started.
I can't let the urgency of reclaiming our magic blind me to the role that Aleta plays in all this. I need to know what she requires to help us. Pure and simple.
Finally, she speaks, her voice steady yet laced with an underlying tremor. “Is there any future that involves me just getting to leave this place?”
I decide to be honest. “We’ve been waiting for you for a hundred years. All our hopes, all our dreams for the future, are attached to you.” Her gaze locks onto mine, and I press on, feeling the gravity of my words. “So, no, there is no future that involves you getting to leave. You will go with us to the labyrinth, if we have to tie you up and drag you all the way through. Then? Then I guess you’re free to do whatever you want.”
It’s not kind, but it’s the truth. And if she presses King Oberon enough, dragging her through the labyrinth is exactly what will happen to her. I can feel the weight of her despair between us, and I silently curse the predicament we’ve all found ourselves in.
“So, think carefully. Right now, I am offering you something. A wish. Almost anything you can dream of. But if you don’t take my offer, you’ll still do this, but you’ll get nothing in return.”
Now, I can see the gears turning in her mind, the conflicting emotions flashing across her face.
She draws back her small shoulders, showing bravery in spite of the difficult situation she’s currently trapped within. “I want to go back to the human world. Where my horse is.” She pauses, then adds, “I don’t want to be bothered again... and I want the fae to stop taking human sacrifices. Completely.”
It’s not what I expected. Not by a long shot. I glance over at King Ashton, who raises an eyebrow in surprise. King Sylvian’s jaw tightens, and King Oberon’s scowl deepens. Her request is simple, almost... trivial. No demands for wealth. No desire for power. Just… this.
I’m not sure whether to be impressed or frustrated.
“That’s it?” King Ashton asks, incredulous. He crosses his arms, his usual teasing grin replaced with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “No perfect lover tied up and delivered to your doorstep? No magic or power given to your family? No wish for gold? A castle? A title?” His tone is light, but there’s a sharp edge to it, a challenge to understand what’s going on in her head.
Alette takes a long moment, as if she’s truly considering the question. There’s a faint flicker of something, something darker, something colder, in her eyes before she finally answers. The conviction in her voice surprises me.
“I want to kill one specific fae.”
The words hang in the air, thick with surprise. Even I’m caught off guard, though I try to hide it beneath a facade of calm. King Oberon’s nostrils flare, and King Sylvian takes a step forward, his brows furrowed in confusion. We all exchange glances, unable to comprehend what she’s just said.
A fae?
“Which fae?” I ask, my own curiosity overriding my caution.
Her lips curl, but it’s not a smile. It’s something darker, more determined. “A fae.”
“It’s not one of us?” I ask, wanting to clarify, needing to understand how deep this desire for revenge runs.
She shakes her head, her eyes fierce and unwavering. “No, not one of you.”
“And no one close to us?”
She frowns. “I don’t think so.”
I can’t help but let out a soft, incredulous chuckle, though it lacks any real humor. This woman… there’s something in her that makes my chest tighten. Something unpredictable. Something dangerous. She could have asked for anything, anything at all, but this, this request for violence, for death,it’s not what I expected. It’s almost as unexpected as her first request for essentially nothing.
The kings and I exchange uncertain glances, sensing the weight of her words, the implications hanging in the air like smoke. We’re not fools. We all know what this means. There’s an undercurrent of emotion she’s not revealing, and yet we can’t press her further, not yet. For now, we’ll settle for what she’s willing to give us.
Looking at one another, each of us in turn nods.It’s an agreement then.
