“I don’t blame you for your feelings, nor your reaction,” Tarrah said quietly. “In fact, I imagine I would have had a very similar response if I were you. I am sorry for what we have done to you. Truly.”
Reyna frowned and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “A few kind words won’t trick me into making a vow to your king.”
“I would hope not,” Tarrah said, snapping off a snake lily as they passed by, before lifting the flower to her nose and taking a long inhale of the sweet yet bitter scent.
Reyna’s frown deepened. What was this strange shadow fae up to? She seemed calm and pleasant enough, but Reyna knew that there could only be one reason why the High King would allow Tarrah to take Reyna out into the courtyard for a relaxing stroll. Tarrah had been tasked to convince Reyna to yield. And yet, she was doing nothing of the sort.
“You think I am a liar,” Tarrah said lightly as they reached the wall looking out upon the undulating, misty city. “You believe that I proclaim falsehoods.”
“You are a shadow fae. You are not bound to your words.”
Tarrah smiled her strange smile. “If you could lie, would you?”
Reyna turned her gaze to the city before them. From the tower, all she could see were lights and vague figures scurrying through the mist. But down here, those figures transformed into faces with smiles. There were dozens pouring in through distant castle gates, carrying packs as their bloodied feet carried them into the safety of Findius. Cheeks were painted with dirt, and eyes were sunken, hollowed out by years of starvation. Despite herself, Reyna felt her heart soften. The low fae of the shadow lands had struggled to survive for so long. And now they had a home again.
“I’m certain I would lie if given the chance,” Reyna finally answered.
“Yes, no doubt you would, as would anyone. But how often? And why? Would your every word be a falsehood? Would your entire existence sit on a bedrock of lies?” Tarrah turned to face Reyna, her dark eyes sparking with intensity.
Curious, Reyna cocked her head and considered the shadow fae’s words. If Reyna could lie, would she? Yes, she would. She could not pretend she wouldn’t. Any fae would lie if given the chance. But all the time? No. Just as with word mincing, and answering questions, one needed to be careful. Answer too many questions, and one could easily give the true secrets away. Lie too often, and one would never be believed.
Tarrah gave a nod and motioned for them to continue down the path, apparently satisfied by what she saw in Reyna’s eyes. As they walked, Reyna plucked a stray silver flower and took a small sniff. Strangely, it smelled of ozone, as if it came from the sun itself.
“I came a very long way to get here,” Tarrah said quietly. “My mother died during a raid on our village when I was only ten, even though I was certain she would live forever. She had so much power, but she could not survive a cut to the throat. My father died a long while before that. I don’t even remember his face. He died during a raid, too, or at least that is what my mother said. She was what you expect from all shadow fae. A liar to her very core. I am not certain she ever spoke the truth. She lived before the exile, so she understood what it meant to be bound to your words. And she relished in the absence of it.”
Reyna nodded, wondering why exactly Tarrah was sharing these personal details with her. What did she hope to gain from it? Reyna knew it was not a simple conversation.
Tarrah continued. “After her death, that’s when I began to see the visions. There were only a few of us left in the village after the raid—I had a hiding spot in a cellar hidden beneath the floor with our stores of food. That year, the crops had yielded very little, as is often the case. You have seen the sun and our mists. Only a few plants thrive under the orange glow. Back before we were exiled, the shadow fae relied on trade with the other kingdoms. Now, we have to rely on ourselves. Raids are common…as is murder for goods.”
Reyna opened her mouth to speak, but Tarrah waved her hand dismissively. “No, do not offer me your pity. That isn’t what I want, and despite what I am certain you believe, that is not the reason I am telling you my story.”
Reyna dropped the silver flower to the ground. It was crushed beneath her boot as they continued ever forward. “Then, why are you sharing your past with me? I know this isn’t a simple conversation. There is a purpose to your words. To convince me to make vows to your king.”
“At the very heart of it, yes, but not in the way you imagine.” Tarrah rustled her fingers through the brambles, not even flinching when a thorn pricked her thumb. She licked away the blood that bloomed on her skin and smiled. “This isn’t some sort of trick or trap or strategy. I simply want to tell you what I know, to make you understand what is happening here. And then, I want you to consider what we’ve asked you. If you refuse, then…you are free to leave this kingdom.”
A strange dread slithered past Reyna’s heart like a snake, twisting and whorling inside of her, desperate to strike. “That’s a lie.”
Tarrah shook her head. “It isn’t. If you refuse, then I was wrong. You are not the warrior we seek.”
“And my sister?” Reyna asked, not even daring to allow herself even a sliver of hope. “What of Eislyn?”
“Come. We will get to Eislyn.” Tarrah continued to walk. For a moment, Reyna stayed rooted to the spot, staring after the warrior, watching the orange glint off her scaly armor. Reyna felt unmoored. Surely, after all these weeks held captive, they would not allow her and Eislyn to simply walk out the castle gates and return home to the ice and the snow and the soothing cold. It would be a long, difficult journey, with the Wood Court standing in their way…but they would finally get to go home.
No, she could not dare to hope.
Tarrah would not dangle freedom before her unless she was certain that Reyna would never take it.
Frowning, she followed after the shadow fae. When she reached her side, Tarrah continued on as if the conversation had not paused at all.
“The food stores beneath our cottage diminished quickly. I was only a child. I did not understand the concept of rationing, nor did I keep my food to myself as I should have. I shared them with the other survivors. Weeks passed, and then we were hungry again.” Tarrah sucked in a sharp breath. “When the starvation flickered like pain in my belly, that is when the visions began.
“At first, they were small and quiet and few. The faces in my mind were always blurred. I thought they were waking dreams at first. But then my mother’s old words came back to me. Words of visions, prophecies of the futures, images flashing before her until she drowned in them. I had once thought them lies, but now I was experiencing them myself. I thought I was going mad.”
For some reason, Reyna found herself believing the shadow fae. Tarrah’s voice sounded so raw, so earnest. Whether these visions were from the gods or not, Reyna was certain of one important truth: the visions were real to Tarrah.
“Soon, the visions grew and grew, and I was having wild thoughts of a king sitting on a throne. A king and a throne I had never before seen, not with my own two eyes. Only in my mind.” Tarrah smiled. “This time, I could see faces very clearly. It was our High King, Bolg Rothach, sitting on the shadow fae’s Seat of Power. Only we didn’t have the Seat of Power then. And our king was only a king. The images spurred me on, telling me to seek out Bolg Rothach and convince him to press forward against our enemies, to take back our own lands. So, I did. And thenwe did. The image I saw in my mind became real.”
Reyna’s heart thumped. It was eerie and unsettling. There was no doubt about that. It also wasn’t enough.Nothingwould ever be enough. “And now you’ve had visions of me fighting for your king.”
