Lovely, so still a freak situation. Awesome.
Dorian’s grip tightens on my waist, and I’m not sure how to interpret it. With as thrilled as he was at the prospect of absorbing my magic before, I like to lean towards positive. But immortality is a bitter pill to swallow for anyone, forced to think of an endless stretch of existence without an estimated end in sight.
He might hate me for it, and that scares the hell out of me. This is exactly why I haven’t gotten close to anyone before. How could anyone love me when my very existence is a plague?
“I can hear the wheels turning in your head, love,” he murmurs against the side of my neck. “Not going anywhere. For a long time, it seems, but that doesn’t change anything, right? The four of us against the world. You’re a goddamn delight and fuck the people that think otherwise.”
A small, grateful smile tugs at the corner of my lips. My fingers trace a path over his arm banded around my waist, hoping he can feel my appreciation for him. There are any number of things I want to say right about now, but it isn’t the time or place.
“Go on,” Lucien prompts, trying to circle us back to the main story. But everything we hear seems to just bring up more questions that need to be addressed, and it’s so easy to lose track of what the biggest problem is that needs to take priority.
“Changelings.” She whispers the words so quietly that I have to strain to hear them, like just speaking their name will bring them back to life for her. “They’re just...power hungry monsters. They can change shape to become anyone, not just a glamour. Even their voice,” she trails off with a shudder and takes a minute to gather her thoughts.
“They can drain your child, don their face, and come into your home like they belong there.” Her voice wavers, coming out as a harsh croak. “And then drain the rest of your family. So you’re left either sharing their fate, or killing a monster that wears your son’s face, that cries in his voice while begging you to stop in an effort to trick you.” Tears stream down her cheeks by the time she’s done and we all do her the courtesy of pretending not to notice.
Atlas gently asks, “If they can be killed, then why does anyone need a guardian?”
Achlys swipes a hand over her face and gets to her feet, forcing us to follow. I quickly snatch my shoes before they get left behind, but just carry them in one hand for now. Not only since my feet are still wet from the river, but because the atmosphere is so much richer here than what I’m used to. It leaves my skin buzzing, unaccustomed to so much energy in the earth around me, and it’s easier to soak up with direct contact.
“Because we learned over the years that killing them has a chain reaction.” She snaps her fingers again, agitated, and commands a few people to finish getting the hall set up for the feast. “Faerie isn’t like your human realm. She lives and breathes, gracing us with her magic and imbuing it into everything she touches. But when we began to finally make headway diminishing the changeling’s numbers, the land reacted. So we realized rather quickly that we couldn’t simply wipe them out, but needed to contain them instead, lest we risk upsetting the delicate balance of nature.”
By the time we reach the opposite side of the city and enter a massive building, everything is set the way the queen commanded. The great hall has row after row of long tables, all piled high with food. There isn’t a separate table for the queen to look down on anyone. Instead, she sits on an empty bench in the center of the room, motioning for us to join her.
Other fae sit across from us and on either side of our party as the bench starts filling up, and I have a brief stab of panic at being surrounded. Atlas senses my rising anxiety, settling a hand on my knee under the table and stroking his thumb back and forth steadily. On my other side is Achlys, and she wastes no time loading up her plate, using it as a perfect break in the conversation.
We follow her lead, and I actually appreciate the way she’s not just dumping information on us. She’s giving us bite sized pieces to process, letting us keep our heads from spinning and ensuring we don’t become overloaded, freak out, and run. She’s unconventional for certain, but I don’t hate her as much as I thought I would after her display of abilities earlier. No one is perfect, but she seems to at least try.
“And my ancestors ended up having the best suited abilities to be their jailors, I presume?” I take a bite of food, swooning, and promptly start stuffing my face.
The queen nods. “And they only continued to grow and evolve throughout the centuries.” It makes sense, though I hate that it does.
“So where does Elorie come into things?” Dorian hangs on the queen’s every word, leaning closer so that he doesn’t miss a single thing amongst the steady hum of chatter surrounding us.
She slams her cup down harsher than intended and a bit splashes over the rim. “Because Elorie is a power hungry bitch, draining everything around her. It wasn’t enough to take the magic from the earth, she needed more. When news spread of her pregnancy taking a toll on her, developing complications, she sought out help from Cambria’s parents.”
Dabbing her napkin on the mess, she tries to temper her rage. “And no one expected a pregnant woman would kill the people that saved her child’s life. She took their newborn when she left and claimed to birth twins.”
My stomach churns. “It’s the floating island, isn’t it?”
She nods, like I knew she would, and I feel sick. I always worked it up in my head that it was some magical place that only the most elite were able to visit, somewhere where the fae that wanted nothing to do with the petty people down here chose to live away from the rest. But I should have known that nothing the fae touch in Faerie is truly magical. Only the swaths of nature they leave alone are genuinely beautiful.
“Wait, so this is probably unimportant, but,” Dorian hesitantly asks. “If it was just Cambria’s family up there, how did they...I mean, keeping the line going,” he trails off, looking embarrassed.
Achlys frowns. “Even fae have standards, thank you very much. The guardians weren’t imprisoned, they were wardens. They could still fly down and find mates, shop, have lives. They just chose to live up there and only come down on occasion.”
“But Cambria doesn’t have wings,” Lucien protests and I sigh, standing up to rip off the final band aid.
I lift the back of my shirt and drop the one piece of glamour I perpetually keep in place, not wanting to ever see their pity or rage. There are several sharp hisses and curses, and I quickly snap the glamour back in place, self-conscious.
“I thought you just had them concealed,” Achyls whispers in horror as I hastily retake my seat, not wanting to meet anyone’s eye.
“They didn’t just cut them off,” Atlas seethes. “What did they do to you?”
I take another bite of food despite my lack of appetite, just to buy myself a second to choose how to phrase things. “They wanted to make sure I could never escape and hurt anyone, that I could be managed. They grew back several times as a kid after a long enough stretch of healing, so they burned the skin until there was too much damage and scar tissue to ever fully regenerate again.”
“Piper’s comment.” Dorian’s voice drips with horror and disdain, “About clipping the little bird’s wings. I thought it was just an expression.”
Taking a sip of water, I clear my suddenly dry throat. “Nope, she’s just a cunt.”
