Page 87 of A Cursed Son

And then we’re soaring up in the sky.

Last time I flew on Cherry Cake, I was exhausted from hanging on for so long and still traumatized from the attack, so flying on a wingless creature was the least of my worries.

But now?

Now that I’m awake and alert, I’m wondering how in the world this creature flies, and holding that strap in front of me so tight that my knuckles are turning white. At least Marlak has his arms around me, touching the sides of the saddle, but then I realize there are no reigns and I don’t even know how this unicorn flies. In fact, I don’t even know where I’m going and if someone will shoot a poisoned dart or arrow or throw some flying, murderous cockroaches at me.

And then it hits me that this is being alive. Alive, unsure about what’s coming next. I look up and see that we’re about to reach the clouds. Of course I’ve always wanted to touch them. Who hasn’t? Watching them float softly in the sky, they’re a thing of wonder. These are gray and don’t look as fluffy, but still… I’m about to reach the clouds.

We pierce them, and for a moment I’m surprised that they’re not like soft wool. I know they’re just water, and yet it feels strange that inside it is like being in a thick mist; everything light gray, almost white around me. And then we burst through—and I’m stunned.

The sun is shining. Of course it’s shining. It’s not as if it would disappear when it’s cloudy. And yet knowing and seeing are different things.

Up here is a sunny day, perfect blue sky above us, with endless fluffy clouds below. I don’t even fear falling anymore, as that silly part of my mind thinks that I would land on some fluffy wool, like a thick pillow.

I know it’s not fluffy, and I’d fall right through it, but at least the illusion quiets my fear, and that’s good. Fear is based on perception, after all.

And then there’s Marlak behind and around me. Strangely, he’s not a source of fear, but of comfort, which I shouldn’t be feeling. I should be alert at each and every second, a quiet, astute observer, and yet I have to spend my mental alertness reminding me this is not a dream, something completely obvious.

But if I look around me, flying so high on this magnificent creature feels like dreaming. Cool wind hits my face, refreshing, renewing. I feel none of the stuffiness from down below and the overcoat is quite perfect for the weather.

Life is duty, honor, but it’s also a series of moments. The truth is that I don’t even mind his arms surrounding me. When the wind forces us into silence, I can almost think that he’s indeed the person from my dreams. And being near him is wonderful. I’ll remind myself of the reality when we land. Why ruin perfection?

And yet I’m already anticipating the landing, wondering about where he’s taking me, wondering what I’ll find out, and hoping there are no assassins waiting for us.

16

We’ve been flying for about an hour, the sun right above us, so I don’t have much sense of direction. My skin is tanned, so at least it won’t burn anymore, and I can enjoy the sunshine.

Below me, the clouds start to get thinner, and I see patches of a dark green forest and a wide, lazy river, and then soon we’re descending.

Cherry Cake lands with a thud on the riverbank. I wish I could dismount on my own, but the unicorn is much taller than a horse. I wonder how come I didn’t notice it when I first rode on him.

Marlak holds me and dismounts me as if I were a child, then pats his unicorn, who flies away. This is a thick, wild forest, quite hot and humid with so many trees I can’t count, vegetation in the soil, covering trunks, everywhere, with running water close to us. We’re in the north, in one of the small fae courts, but I’m obviously unsure which one.

He glances at me. “We’re going to walk now.”

I don’t know if he expects a protest or something, but I just nod while I remove my overcoat.

He points down. “Careful with the ground, not to step on anything or stick your foot in a puddle. We’re going to the Misty Court.”

That’s… not a small court. They used to be big in the past, until about a hundred years ago, when smaller courts started eating away their territory.

“No assassins there?”

He tilts his head and raises a shoulder. “The queen has little to gain from presenting my head to my brother. Obviously, other fae in her court might not see it the same way, so it’s good to remain alert.” Then he adds, “But it’s safe. Nobody murders anyone on an official visit. They’ll do it in the dark of night, when deeds like those can go on in secret.”

I mull it over. “But if they want to present your head, they’ll want their deed to be known, won’t they?”

“Known by the right people only.” He then chuckles. “Don’t worry, wife. Queen Benda is an ally, and her entourage is sworn to her.”

There’s something mocking in his tone, as if I was being silly, and I was just curious.

“I’m not afraid,” I correct him.

He blinks. “I didn’t say you were.” He then glances at me again, and notices that I’m holding my overcoat. “Give me that.”

“I can carry it.”