Page 27

Luc Zelsor and All His Hopes and Dreams

It was a bit unfair. One minute the Shadow nobles were calling him a prince , and the next, they were calling him a traitor . What a bunch of brainless fools who needed to make up their minds.

Luc had started pacing around his cold iron cell the moment he’d been shoved into it by a series of clammy Commander hands. After a few hours, he decided to sing. Normally songs were for fairies who were merry, and Luc didn’t have many reasons to be happy, but despite the oncoming vote—which somehow still hadn’t happened—he could think of one thing, one single thing, to be merry about. And for that, he sang, “There once lived a young fox who faced every obstacle with cunning and determination…” His lips curled into a cruel smile. “The fox grew to the capable age of twenty-five years and found he had reached the greatest measure of strength he would. And so, on a cold Wynter’s day, he began a great trek up a mountain to face the greatest obstacle of all—another fox!” He did a little skip and hop with that one. “One twice his age, and equal in power… And would you look at that? He won! The young, cunning fox beat the snot out of the old loser—”

“What are you rambling on about?” a prison guard hollered down the hall.

“None of your business, you eavesdropping slug!” Luc shouted back.

Whelp. That did it.

A tetrad of fairies in dark green uniforms marched toward his cell. They walked tall like they carried authority, but with the way their scummy outfits gave off such bad style, Luc wasn’t sure why they were so proud of themselves.

When they reached his temporary little home of cold iron bars, Luc flashed them a wicked smile and filled the prison with the scent of sweetness and delightful promises. He leaned toward the bars, and through them, he whispered, “How about you fetch me something delicious that tastes like human realm ice cream?”

The great and mighty guard with a gold medallion pinned to his chest stepped a bit ahead of the others. Yes, he loved himself very much for that gold medallion. It was obvious in the way he held his chin so high and said, “We have asked you several times to be quiet. Remember that we can make your last days in here quite miserable.”

Luc slapped a hand over his eyes and laughed. “Oh dear,” he said. “That’s only if they vote to execute me. You’ve forgotten one very important thing.” Luc dropped his hand and spun to face them, letting his metallic eyes sparkle. Sure enough, the guards’ rigid stance shrank a little. “What if they vote not to kill me?” He returned to the bars, close enough that he might be able to reach through and snatch one of them without burning his flesh on the iron. “What do you think a scorned fox might do to his enemies if he gets to live? Before you refuse to wait upon me, remember that I might get out of this alive, and you’ll wish you’d made the trek to the human realm to get me ice cream when I asked.”

Another presence appeared at the end of the hall, too dark for Luc to see, but the slight sheen in his black pearl armour gave what he was away. Luc sighed and took a step back from the bars.

“Bring him,” the Commander in black pearl said, and at the sound, Luc tilted his head in thought. The voice sounded a lot like his old Commander. The one he’d fought beneath for many years, the one he’d convinced to sign off on his first liaison spy mission into the human realm—after which he completely abandoned his post and never returned. Until now.

The lock on Luc’s cell was wrangled a bit, but after a moment, it popped off and the guard with the medallion swung the door open. Luc waited for a moment until all the guards were wondering why he wasn’t moving. And only after they became acutely aware of the wide-open space between the dangerous nine tailed fox and their fully exposed fairy flesh, only when their stances shrank and a spec of fear filled their eyes as they wondered what the fox might do, only then did Luc take his first step forward.

He glared at every single one of them as he passed.

At the end of the hall, the Commander didn’t show a hint of recognition as Luc approached, even though the faded light revealed that Luc had been right—this old Commander was exactly the one who’d ruled Luc’s Army division with an iron fist. One of the first fairies who’d come after Luc in the human realm when Luc had stopped checking in and sending news back to the Army.

The Commander stared at everything except Luc as he held out a fresh vine and waited. Luc released a sigh and obediently stuck out his wrists.

“You must have lost all your memories,” Luc reasoned—it wasn’t uncommon for Shadow Fairies. “Or, you’re afraid of me.”

The Commander’s fingers stopped tying. He did look up at Luc then, with daggers for eyes. Luc smiled.

The guards ushered Luc out into a long, winding tunnel through the base of the mountain. “Are we going back to the Assembly?” Luc guessed as they walked.

No one answered. A loud crack of thunder boomed in the distance, echoing down the tunnel and making the only noise for several seconds apart from their marching footsteps.

“So, this is it, then.” He nodded. The Shadow Assembly must have voted after all. It seemed his fate had been decided and he was walking out to—hopefully not too violently—meet it. “Did you know that foxes are known for defeating their enemies atop mountains?” he asked none of them in particular. “It seems we’re also destined to die beneath them.” He smirked at his own epiphany.

He was nudged to the right, and Luc braced himself to come face-to-face with whichever highest ranking Assembly members had been selected to bear witness to his demise. He considered himself brave, being a fox and all, but the truth was, if he saw an opportunity to escape, he’d probably take it.

Luc’s old Commander opened a door with a loud screech, and the whole group of them came to a halt. Luc nearly bumped into the Commander’s back, but it was the sounds of growls and flashes of lightning that made him lift his pretty eyes to the wide balcony beyond. He didn’t realize they were up on a cliff, deep into the mountainside. A storm raged in the sky, and rain pounded upon slick stones where at least a dozen fairies in Shadow armour lay either unconscious or dead.

But what was utterly spectacular about the scene was the fool in the black, dandelion-speckled coat standing in the middle of the ring of bodies with a hood shadowing his face. A hood that carefully hid his curly hair, brown-silver eyes, and the fact that deep down he’d always been obsessed with Luc’s well being—at least, Luc had speculated as much, but he’d never known for sure until this moment.

Luc bit down on his lips, but they still spread into a broad smile.

Mor Trisencor had been an unsolvable mystery for far too long. But now that Luc saw him standing there, drenched with rain and waiting like a beast of darkness who’d crawled from its cave to feed, Luc had his answer once and for all. And he snorted a laugh. Because he’d been right and Mor was wrong and everyone else in existence was wrong because the fact of the matter was that Mor cared.

The Commander drew his fairsaber and stepped out into the rain to go deal with the cloaked person he didn’t realize was Mor Trisencor. And so, Luc wound up and kicked him in the behind as he left.

The Commander growled in surprise as he fell knees-first onto the wet stones. He sprang back to his feet in a heartbeat and lifted his fairsaber to Mor’s throat. He heaved as he barked out his words like an animal, “Whoever you are, you will be punished by—”

“By whom?” Mor’s distinct, low voice left his hood. “The Dark Queene?” he asked. Then he said, “I hear she’s dead.”

Luc bit his lips together so hard over his grin, he nearly chewed his own mouth off. “She is! She’s dead!” he shouted into the rain. But then he glanced around at the guards who held him and added, “Not that I was there or am admitting to doing it.”

No one saw Mor draw his fairsaber until it collided with the Commander’s, and the guards around Luc drew their weapons. Luc kicked the nearest one back into the tunnel and ran out into the rain, leaping onto the Commander’s back and swinging his tied arms over the Commander’s head. He shoved the vines on his wrists into the Commander’s gaping, growling mouth. “Bite down, you fool, or I’ll rip out your teeth and use them to cut through these vines myself,” Luc promised.

The Commander gawked when Luc pivoted to kick a guard in the stomach who got too close. The other three guards raised their blades and Mor swept past like a grim reaper. Very quickly, the last three guards stopped breathing.

“More Shadows will come,” Luc warned Mor through thin lips as he tried to force his vines against the Commander’s teeth. “There’s supposed to be a grand spectacle of an execution today, and many will be arriving very soon to witness it.”

“They haven’t voted yet,” Mor said back as he marched over, grabbed the top of the Commander’s head and the bottom of his jaw, and slammed everything together. Luc felt the snap of the vines, and he slid off the Commander’s back with his wrists raised as the vine tumbled to the ground.

“What do you mean, they haven’t voted yet?” Luc asked as that settled in. Also, he wondered how in the world Mor knew that.

The Commander released a horrifying bark and spun with his blade out, but Mor and Luc were already gone.

The wind felt sweet, even though rain pelted Luc’s face as he sped on the gusts after Mor. He hardly saw the Commander chasing them in the gales, until Mor’s ankle was grabbed, and Luc watched him be lurched out of the current. Luc rolled out after him, landing on his feet at the foot of the mountain. Before Luc had a chance to breathe, a saber swung past his face. Mor smashed the blade back as he ripped his ankle free of the Commander’s grip, and Luc took the opportunity to twist and steal a pair of fairsabers off the fairy who’d tried to run him through. It was the first chance he got to look up, and his rhythms faltered at the sight of all the fairies racing through the trees with their blades held high.

“What exactly did you do to make it to this mountain?” Luc asked Mor. “Not that I’m complaining you’re here.”

Mor collided with the fairies first—he ducked and slashed fae flesh, moving through the scattered warriors with decent technique, but certainly not the same sort of grace Luc moved with. Then he said, “I airslipped. All these fools chased me.”

“Oh dear.” Luc nodded with a wince. “I was hoping you came in secret or something.” He spun into a series of stabs and kicks, dropping two fairies at once. “I should have mentioned I don’t particularly want to cause any more trouble in this Corner, Trisencor.”

“Why does that matter?” Mor asked. He took a punch to the mouth, but he still managed to shout, “You’re already a breath away from dying if they vote to kill you!” Stab, stab, and another stab. Drops of purple blood competed with the rain, hitting trees, flailing in arches, splattering over Mor’s scent-concealing coat.

“Hmm.” Luc’s mouth twisted. He paused his killing to contemplate. “I’ve just realized that you don’t actually know what else they’re voting on, do you?”

“Look out!” Mor shouted, pointing to a rushing Shadow Fairy.

But Luc had seen the fairy coming ages ago. He dropped to a knee and bent forward just as the fairy reached him, sending the fairy tripping over his back and flying into a tree. Luc stood and glanced after him. “What a loser,” he muttered. Then he marched to where Mor was, stabbing and blocking as he did a quick count of the Shadows popping into view, calculating the energy he would spend trying to fight if the Army kept coming. And he decided he and Mor wouldn’t make it.

“Let’s run,” he suggested. “And then you can tell me all about why in the name of the sky deities you came here.” He smirked just a bit. “Though, I think I can already guess.”

Mor scowled. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he warned as he cut a fairy thigh. He was sliced up the arm in return, and he gawked. Luc hurtled his left fairsaber through the Shadow Fairy’s shoulder, and then he sighed because Mor was out of shape, and he wasn’t sure if it would be polite to point it out.

“And they’ll just follow us if we try to run,” Mor added, clutched his bleeding arm. But he started backing away toward the mountain as he took in all the fresh Shadows flooding the trees.

“Then let’s run to Cressica,” Luc said. When Mor didn’t reply, Luc’s face fell. “You did bring the mighty North Prince, right? Please don’t tell me you actually came here alone—”

Mor fled into the howling wind, grabbing Luc on his way. Naturally, at least a dozen war fae followed, eating up the gusts at their backs, swinging their weapons and coming dangerously close to cutting off Luc’s limbs. Luc swatted one right out of the air as he rode the gales, staying on Mor’s heels. They moved so fast that when they exited the airstream, they tumbled onto a patch of grass in a tangle of limbs, rolling over and sliding to a stop—Luc was flat on his stomach in the dirt.

“Where are we?” Luc asked with a wince. He’d lost his weapons somewhere in the wind.

“You’re just over the border of the Dark Corner.” A menacing, yet familiar voice filled the clearing. “And you’re in my domain now.”

Cress wore a hooded coat like Mor’s, only his was short and looked to be made of leather for human motorcycle riders. Sunglasses covered his normally cold eyes.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Luc let his face fall into the grass. He rested there as popping sounds filled the woods around them. “I was worried you hadn’t brought him,” he admitted to Mor who, coincidentally, was lying flat on his back in the grass at his side. When Mor turned his head, he glared at Luc, and Luc almost jumped in surprise at the expression. All Luc’s merry thoughts about Mor coming to rescue him for ‘caring reasons’ went up in smoke.

So Luc grunted. “Figures,” he muttered. Mor probably only came to force Luc to keep his promise about dear Lily and three-legged Dranian.

Luc looked around at the empty, damp forest, sniffing a few times.

Speaking of Dranian…

Cress suddenly pulled down his hood and tore off his sunglasses. Mor’s wide-eyed reaction was enough for Luc to realize Cress revealing himself had not been part of their plan.

“Cress, wait!” Mor tried grabbing Cress’s leg as the mighty North Prince stepped over him with his bright eyes taking in the Shadow Fairies.

“You’ve crossed into forbidden territory. I shall inform my Queene immediately of this treachery!” he shouted at them.

Half the Shadow Fairies looked startled at the sight of the North Queene’s dreaded ward, alive and hungry for their blood. Most of them drew back, blinking wildly like they were sure they weren’t seeing properly. It was only then Luc noticed his old Commander. The old brute had followed him all this way even though his teeth probably ached like crazy.

“Yes, I have returned to finish what I started with the Shadows,” Cress went on. “That’s the won-oh-won of being an assassin.”

Mor closed his eyes and slapped a hand over his face. Luc, though, rolled up to a sitting position to watch. This was better than late night TV thrillers.

Cress drew his fairsaber handle from his pocket. The storm picked up, a bout of lightning burning across the North Corner skies, thunder crackling on cue, and the perfect amount of breeze fluttered Cress’s hair as his fairsaber blade formed with a buzz . It was all terrifying, and totally magical. Luc smacked Mor’s shoulder. “You’re missing it, Trisencor. Wake up and watch,” he urged.

Mor didn’t. He remained lying there with his hands over his face.

“Who wishes to face me first?” Cress demanded.

There was utter silence from the Shadow Fairies, even though they stood there with their sabers drawn and their pearl armour glittering with rainwater.

And so, Cress shouted again, “Who will fight me?!”

Luc wondered why he was experiencing déjà vu. After a second, he snapped his fingers. “David and Goliath!” he realized. “Do you know that human realm story?” he asked Mor again. “That’s what this reminds me of. Cressica is like a menacing giant, and everyone is too afraid to fight him.”

Mor still ignored him.

So, Luc climbed to his feet and stood beside Cress. He cast his former Army companions a sweet, broad smile. “As you can see, I’ve aligned myself with the North Corner of Ever for the time being. Something even the Dark Queene herself was never able to do. So go back and tell that to the Assembly while they bicker like a bunch of childlings.” He took a step forward, positioning himself directly before his former Commander, and to him, he said, “Do not bother me again until after they’ve voted, or you’ll start a war that will end in the same terrible bloodshed that it did the last time we tried to stand up against the North.”

The Commander’s lip curled into a snarl, but he must have understood well enough. He turned on his heel and fled back into an airslip, the rest of the Shadows following close behind. They were all gone in exactly five seconds.

Luc exhaled slowly once the woods were clean, clear, and free of the Dark Corner presence. Even the charcoal clouds in the sky began to separate and disperse, leaving the wet forest gilded in bright light. He turned back to the two who had come to his rescue, but his smile fell when he saw Cress hunched forward and holding his stomach.

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked Mor.

Mor finally lifted his hands off his face and rose to sit. He frowned at Cress. “He ate an entire box of doughnuts before we left the human realm.”

An entire …. Luc placed a hand over his own stomach.

“Oh dear.” He winced. Then he offered therapist-ing advice: “You should try ice cream. It’s a much lighter option for someone with a binge eating disorder.”

“I do not have a disorder,” Cress snapped at him. “And this is all your fault, you fool!”

Luc pursed his lips and took a voluntary step back. “I don’t really want to ask why you think so,” he admitted, “but I will because I’m a strong and confident nine tailed fox.” He bit his tongue, then he worked his jaw. Then he scratched the back of his head. “Alright, so why exactly is this my f—”

“You made me a promise,” Mor stated. Luc hadn’t even seen him climb to his feet, but Mor stood tall now, looking a tad bit more judgemental than before when he was rescuing Luc and caring and everything.

“Ah, yes. And for your information, Trisencor, I was still planning to keep it,” Luc returned. He slid a lock of his deep red hair out of his eyes, setting it nicely back in place. “You have no patience.”

“No patience?!” Mor growled. “I trusted you, Luc! I trusted that you’d fix this like you said you would. I was crazy for believing you’d follow through and for leaving the people I care for in the hands of a conniving fox who’s always been a risk!” Mor pointed in his face. “I knew you’d only make things worse!”

Luc’s jaw slid to the side. Those nasty words didn’t feel necessary, but he moved on. “I’m still fixing everything,” he articulated. “I’m not finished yet, and you,” he waved a finger up and down Mor’s rigid stance, “are being rather ungrateful.”

It was truly remarkable how Mor was so contained, yet sometimes he looked like he could burst at any moment and half the forest would explode.

“And, for the record, this does not count as the High Court of the Coffee Bean rescuing me. Even though things may have looked grave, I had everything under control,” he promised.

Both Mor and Cress performed a rather excellently in-sync eye roll. They turned and headed into the woods, Cress returning his hood and his sunglasses even though he’d already been ousted to the whole Dark Corner and soon rumours would trickle to the North, South, and East that Queene Levress’s deadly ward had made a return. The stress of that was written all over Mor’s face.

“Where are we going? I can’t go too far,” Luc informed them. “I’m still in the middle of fixing everything, remember?”

Cress snorted at him. A moment later, he said, “We’re fetching Dranian, and we’re going home.”

Luc stopped walking. His feet forgot how to move while he stared at Cressica Alabastian’s broad-shouldered back. Not because returning to the human realm wasn’t an option for him, though he had yet to tell Cress and Mor about that, but because Cress had used that word: “ Home .”

Luc lifted a hand to his chest and rubbed over his heart where things got a little warm.

Cressica had used that word in reference to Luc. Like Luc was part of that home. Like he perhaps belonged there with them—like it was home to all three of them.

It was only when Cress and Mor nearly got lost in the forest ahead that Luc realized he was smiling. He dropped the expression from his face and airslipped forward to save himself the scramble.

“Oh dear. Going back to the human realm isn’t possible for me,” Luc said when he fell into step behind them.

Mor glanced back over his shoulder. “Don’t lie,” he warned.

Luc sighed loudly; it echoed through the trees. “You’re exhausting sometimes, Trisencor,” he admitted. “I’m not lying. You should find it within yourself to have a little patience sometimes.”

“I ran out of patience in my childling years,” Cress announced. “That’s an absurd request for someone like me.”

“Of course,” Luc agreed. “But humour me and explain why you two came back to the Ever Corners and aren’t in the human realm guarding our dear Violet and Kate Kole. And while you’re at it,” Luc looked around again, but he didn’t see or sense another fairy anywhere, “tell me what happened to my bestie Dranian and why he’s not here with you.”

Neither Mor nor Cress seemed to care enough to respond, so Luc looked between the two and decided which one would be the easier target. After three more strides of silent walking, Luc came up beside Cress. He reached out, and he grabbed the Prince of the North’s forehead to steal the memory for himself.

He didn’t get it, and the cost of his attempt was a punch across the jaw with a fist of faestone. Luc collapsed into a dizzy heap at the foot of a tree, descending into a blackout slumber.

As Luc slept, he thought he heard someone knocking against the edges of his dream.

“Let me in,” she said.