Page 80 of A Cursed Son

The fae smiles. “I can run, my lady.”

“Not your lady,” Marlak yells. “Go before I change my mind.”

Nelsin glances at me, nods, and then runs in the direction opposite of the cliff, just like he told me to do. I hope he’ll be safe.

Marlak then whistles and turns to me. “If unusual steeds scare you, I suggest you close your eyes.”

“Do I look like a wimp?”

He tilts his head, considering me. “Fearing strange things is normal. It doesn’t make anyone a coward.” He raises an eyebrow. “Or wimp.”

“The answer’s yes, then.”

“Obviously. But looks can be deceiving. Whatever you did today, that was… I’m just glad you’re alive.”

He says it as if he cared, as if I wasn’t a threat to him, capable of spilling his secrets. Sometimes I think he cares, but it’s a strange way of caring.

I see then what he’s talking about. It looks like a horse, but it’s coming from the air. Its body is black and leathery, but cracked, like cracked skin, with red gashes that look like raw flesh underneath. The horse has a long, sharp silver horn and lands beside us.

“That’s Cherry Cake.” Marlak pats his head. “He’s a dark unicorn. You’ve met him.”

So that was what we rode after leaving the carriage. At the time, I thought it was too fast and smooth, but I could never have guessed it was a flying steed. I’m entranced by the creature’s horrific beauty, when I realize something. “How does it fly with no wings?”

Marlak snaps his fingers. “Magic.” I can sense that he’s still angry, still grumpy, as he approaches the unicorn. He turns to me. “I’m glad he still has the double saddle.”

He lifts me and puts me in my place, then mounts the creature. I can see that it’s docile, and indeed smells like a horse.

Marlak’s arms are soon around me and we’re soaring in the air. For a moment, I wonder what would happen if someone saw us, but then I realize we’re in fae territory and this is probably not unusual.

I want to look down and appreciate the view, but the idea that I’m flying on a creature with no wings is quite frightening, and in truth, I’m weak from whatever I did this morning.

The loud sound of wind at least is a respite from any harsh words from Marlak. Marlak. It’s when it hits me that he came. I called him and he came, from wherever he was. And yet, I didn’t call him, I called the one who holds me in my dreams.

The realization is dreadful, but I can no longer run from it: they’re the same person. I feel a flutter and emptiness in my stomach, and a chill down my spine.

It means I’m riding with the man who’s been my solace, my comfort for a long time. And yet there’s such a huge difference between the dreams and the reality. Such a huge gap. It’s as if we’re completely different people when dreaming and awake. I’m most definitely sure I wouldn’t dream about a man who tells me to shut up and says he wasn’t talking to me.

And yet he came.

This time, there are no sounds of hooves on the ground, and I can only assume it was a glamour. Marlak has so much magic that I can’t even keep track of what he can and can’t do.

The memories of the strange fae and those horrific roaches then return and I shudder. I could have died. Died, if it wasn’t for my trust in the Almighty Mother. Or I could have run, but then Nelsin would be dead, and he didn’t deserve it. His idea was childish, but he couldn’t have guessed we’d be attacked. And who attacked us? These are all questions I’ll have to ask Marlak—if he’s ever in a decent enough mood to talk to me.

I think about Nelsin again, and remember the day when I thought I was going to be expelled from the Elite Guard, when I thought my life would have no more meaning. I don’t think it’s fair to do that to him, despite his mistake. Yes, I almost died, but so did he, and sometimes a negative experience is the best teacher. I’ll need to talk to Marlak—if he ever wants to listen to me.

The unicorn, Cherry Cake, lands on the island, and Marlak helps me dismount.

Marlak—my kindred soul. Why, why why?

I’m so glad to be back on the island. Perhaps I’m starting to consider this place my home. It’s a problematic thought, but I’m too tired to scrutinize it right now.

Marlak takes me to the kitchen and I collapse on a chair.

He’s doing something at the counter, then brings a plate with a sandwich on it and sets it before me. “I bet you’re starving.”

Oh, it’s for me? It’s only then that my stomach growls, as if it had been in a slumber and was now awakened by the smell of food. Cold food, but food, nonetheless.

I waste no time before taking a big bite. Too big, I realize, once it’s all in my mouth and I can barely chew it.