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21

Sylvia

I hadn’t eaten blackberry tarts in months.

The scent of food hit me the moment I set foot over the threshold of the dining hall. Herbed potatoes, savory vegetable stews, spiced apples—and blackberry tarts.

The chamber was cavernous, flushed with the warm light of a dozen fae lights embedded in chandeliers overhead. The dangling teardrop crystals refracted the illumination across the craggy walls, making faint deposits of limestone glitter. I shut my jaw and held my head high to hide that I was salivating.

A pang hit me as we passed a number of long oak tables surrounded by fairies—eating, talking, laughing. It was too much like home, and I found myself taking comfort in the furnishings that were different. Plush cushions lined the walls, inviting after-dinner conversation. A few fairies seemed to have already finished supper and were deep in goblets of wine, speaking nearly nose-to-nose. A male—clearly a fire affinity—flexed his hand absently, playing with a tongue of flame that hovered in a wall niche.

As I scanned the faces around me, my stomach gave a faint twist of discomfort. Now that Marcellus had pointed it out, the lack of children was unsettlingly obvious. Though their bodies were youthful—no doubt the supple effects of drinking siren blood—I couldn't help but wonder at their true ages. Who had been the last among them to enter Veloria before indulging in the longevity of their peers?

When we were guided to sit, I was unsurprised to find myself placed beside Marcellus. A gold platter was placed before me, piled with food and insistence that I help myself to whatever I desired. I was too hungry to put on airs, to pretend that I wasn’t ravenous. I was on my second bite of rosemary potatoes when a horrible thought made my throat tight— what if they’ve poisoned it?

A sweeping glance around at the dozens of fairies passing food and eating plentifully set me at ease. Even the most bloodthirsty assassins surely wouldn’t kill a whole village simply to end me. Perhaps it was ego talking to even suspect poisoning; what threat was I to them? I was nobody.

“And how long will you be staying with us, Sylvia?” My name spilled so casually from the fairy sat across me—her voluptuous figure accented by her sand-colored dress that cinched with a gold belt at the waist.

“No longer than the evening,” I answered. At most. It couldn’t have been more than an hour or so, but Jon and Cliff were bound to be restless. I doubted they were surrounded by the same ample offerings.

This thought spurred me to my feet abruptly. I offered a weak smile in response to the curious and started looks that fell over those seated around me. Unable to ignore the stab of worry in my chest, I scanned the table and seized a platter of food that was still heaping—a silly gesture, but I wanted to offer my friends something .

Marcellus touched my elbow, shooting me an inquisitive look.

“My hunters must be famished,” I explained.

Marcellus relaxed into a smirk as if to say, Oh, is that all ? “You needn’t worry. As promised, your hunters are being treated well. They’ve been given a fair portion of the feast. ”

I pursed my lips, glancing toward the door. My chest twinged—hoping to hear one of their deep voices carrying off the stone walls.

Why haven't I heard their voices?

“You’re sure?” I asked.

“I was told firsthand,” Marcellus said, waving a hand to illustrate. “Stuffed mushrooms, pastries, and berry wine.”

The pendant around my neck gave a soothing stir—a calm rushing through me. It was a good thing I wasn’t hearing the hunters cry out. Their silence meant safety , not certain death.

As Marcellus guided me back into my seat, I smiled to myself and set the platter on the table. Maybe this whole debacle wasn’t too much of an inconvenience for Cliff, given how he insisted I meticulously describe the taste of berry wine whenever I mentioned revels. Even Jon might appreciate the rare treat.

The thought made me reach for my goblet, hardly touched in my ravenous feasting. I carefully limited myself. The pleasant pulse of the gemstone around my neck alone felt like a touch of intoxication, making me drunk with hope and the idea of a full gemstone’s power being hours, perhaps even minutes away.

With that kind of power, my uncertainties about the future would melt away. I could craft my own future. I’d be free.

“Thank you again for the hospitality,” I told Marcellus. “I promise we won’t stay long enough to trouble you for another meal. Keeping up with the hunters’ appetite is a chore, to say the least.”

He chuckled. “Sylvia, you needn’t keep reminding me that you’re in quite the hurry. But I hope you understand that you are welcome in our walls for as long as you like.”

A woman in a light green gown hummed in thought. “It must be quite difficult keeping those brutes fed.”

A tingle of protectiveness raced up my spine, but I shoved it back down. I smiled tightly. “They sustain themselves just fine.” Even so, I could hear something defensive in my tone, so I quickly added, “In fact, I never worry about my own meals—they bring food to me without prompting anymore. They do whatever I need.”

Impressed murmurs swam around me, and I couldn’t help but swell a bit at this fantasy—that I had conquered a fairy’s worst nightmare. I supposed it wasn’t that far from the truth.

“How did you come about these hunters?” a bearded man in a vest asked.

My initial stammering brought heat to my face. I focused on what I’d learned from Jon and Cliff when they lied for information or to stay under the radar— throw in pieces of the truth and they’ll latch onto the honesty without questioning the lies .

“I intercepted them while they were hunting a mactir ,” I said in a hushed voice, drawing the others to lean closer to hear. “They wounded me, right through the wing.” I pointed at the scar, prompting little gasps of sympathy. “But that was the last time they dared hurt me.”

My pause, naturally, was met with whispers of, “What did you do?”

“I convinced them I wanted to help end the mactir in exchange for my freedom. Of course, I knew they’d never let me go. Unfortunately for them, it was too late. It was all too easy to glamour them into doing my bidding the moment they let their guard down.”

A flush crept up my neck and painted my cheeks as I drank in the wide-eyed looks of admiration around me. As I gazed along the table, I wondered if anyone else here was a legendary hero like Marcellus. For all I knew, I was being fawned over by every fabled warrior I looked up to.

When I reached for the platter of blackberry tarts, I realized with a start that they were a raspberry variety instead.

The food rotated too swiftly at this feast that I worried I might not sample it all. When would I have another opportunity?

“What happened then?” the woman in the green dress asked.

I looked up from my plate to find that she was actually in a blood-red gown—or was I looking at the wrong person? I blinked hard. I couldn’t have missed such a rich color.

“We completed the hunt,” I said slowly. “The mactir was unstable and far too close to my home village. From there, I began using the hunters as protection on my gem scavenging journey. But… glamour is easier to maintain when a semblance of their purpose remains intact.” I smiled impishly, as though I were describing children who needed to be at play. “I give them a chance to unleash their bloodlust, of course, so they still hunt the beasts that would mean to harm fairies. And I rescue those innocents whom the hunters would kill without a second thought—like Aureline.”

The bearded man shook his head in fond disbelief. “My dear, are you certain you don’t have noble blood running through your veins? Precious stars…”

I shrugged humbly, hesitating when I noted the color of his tunic seemed lighter than before—and I was sure he’d been wearing a vest. “If I have noble blood, my village certainly didn’t appreciate it. I was branded for what I did.”

The bearded man stared, then shook his head. “Well, branded or not, it seems that fate has a way of revealing noble hearts. Even if it’s much delayed.” His eyes twinkled as he lifted his cup, sloshing wine in a toast. The fairies around me murmured their jovial agreement, wings refracting delicate light from the glow of a hundred fae lights flickering around us.

“To Sylvia—the warrior!” the man declared.

Everyone at our table followed suit, making my cheeks flush—not from the wine, but from the overwhelming sense of acceptance. It was dizzying. My free hand grasped at the gemstone pendant around my neck for comfort as I touched my cup to all those I could reach.

As I touched my glass to Marcellus’, our eyes caught meaningfully.

“Indeed,” he said. “I’d have a hard time finding someone more worthy of the title.”

I sipped at my drink, trying to calm my heart because Edin the Valiant just called me a warrior .

A pair of hands grasped my shoulders. A woman with plaited hair and a sapphire gown smiled down at me as I turned. “Someone like you deserves a rune to match,” she crooned, tucking hair behind my ear. “Wouldn’t you agree, commander?”

My lips parted as I met Marcellus’ honeyed eyes. “Would you like that?” he asked.

I traced the rune gleaming on his bare shoulder with my eyes. Yes , I wanted to blurt. Another dream of mine that I had shoved into a drawer long ago and let collect dust. My cheek stung with the memory of the mark I did have. It was sobering, remembering that night. The shattered pottery on the floor. The white-hot, painful stinging. I didn’t realize I was clutching my arm until Marcellus’ warm hand laid overtop mine.

“It won’t hurt,” he assured. “I’ll make sure of it.”

I met his gaze, unable to mask my vulnerability this time. But perhaps I didn’t need to. I gave a tremulous nod, emboldened as the fairies around the table cheered and pounded the table.

I thought of the long journey left ahead to Aelthorin. When would I have another opportunity?

Marcellus stood, adjusting the rings on his fingers. He beckoned a fairy sitting halfway down the table, whispering something in her ear. Her eyes widened as she looked from the commander to me. But it was clear whatever he said, it had not been a suggestion. The gossamer cloak cinched beneath her wings billowed out behind her as she urgently cut through the lines of packed tables toward the door.

I had half a mind to pry, but my thoughts flickered out when Marcellus put his hands on me again. He spun me around with a certain grace that made my heart stammer—the kind of grace that came from centuries of practice. His gaze glimmered with that delightful, dangerous mischief as he positioned himself, his hands on my right shoulder—opposite the iron burn. Fairies crowded closer like old friends, anticipation humming in their murmurs.

“Relax,” Marcellus said, his voice a purr beside my ear.

His lips didn’t move as magic flooded to his hands, white and crackling with energy. Despite his assurances, I braced myself. But when his finger touched my skin, it was warm— not blazing hot. A sigh left me as the marking was meticulously traced.

Far from agonizing, the process filled me with a strange, invigorating energy. The gemstone pendant around my neck seemed to pulse in time with my thudding heart. Growing bold, I stole a glance at the blazing mark. Tears filled my vision. It was perfect. It was mine .

I turned to face Marcellus with a watery smile. Thank you didn’t begin to cover the gratitude surging through me, the words catching when I tried to speak them.

“Don’t,” he said, brushing my tear trails away. He leaned his forehead against mine as I shook with emotion. “It’s about time someone understood your worth.”

A powerful buzz of energy filled the air, fast approaching. Every head in the room turned toward it, sensing it. I straightened to find that the woman Marcellus had sent off on an errand was returning with a satchel slung over her shoulder. I might have turned and stared at my warrior rune for hours if it weren’t for the promise of what was in that bag.

A gemstone .

The woman looked breathless as she handed the satchel off to Marcellus and bowed her head. Hushed whispers flowed around me, brimming with anticipation. My heart pounded with warmth—they knew as well as I did that I deserved this treasure. I could already imagine how it would feel to touch it—how the energy would ripple beneath my skin until the gemstone’s power sang through every muscle and nerve of my being.

“I can’t believe it,” I whispered.

I reached for the bag, every nerve in me singing. Marcellus gently caught my wrist and pulled me into an embrace. Overwhelmed, I hugged him back with as much fervor. I murmured my gratitude—the welcome, the rune, this incredible gift.

“It will be yours,” he promised.

I stiffened in his arms. “When?”

“I hope you see we’re good on our word. We can give you everything you want.” He paused, his breath playing a gentle breeze on my hair. “In return for ten years.”

His arms were locked around me. The others continued murmuring to each other, and I felt their stares. The noise felt less like the loving hum of family and more like a swarm of bees.

I wriggled out of Marcellus’ hold and shook my head, schooling my expression carefully.

“I don’t understand,” I said, though I knew with mounting horror that I did .

“I told you.” His smile was patient as ever, hands still clasped firmly on my shoulders. “We must take measures to ensure our people carry on for generations.”

The intensity of his stare made me squirm with discomfort—the mixture of desire and desperation burrowed under my skin as the reality of this afternoon crashed around me like a thunderstorm.

“I can’t agree to this,” I said weakly. Even as my longing eyes traveled to the satchel, sorrow throttled me at the realization that he had never intended to gift me a gemstone simply for being brave and exceptional. I pushed his hands away.

He sighed, hopeful expression withering. “Sylvia, you won’t age a single day. Barrenness doesn’t take hold for at least a decade. You will still be perfectly intact—as beautiful as you are today.” He brushed my cheek tenderly— reverently . The graze of his fingertips felt like acid, and I leaned out of his reach. “You will leave Veloria just as you entered, though more powerful than you could have dreamed. It will only feel like weeks have passed.”

“I can’t—”

Marcellus made a small move to one of the gems on his rings—a painfully familiar gesture. At once, the pendant around my neck pulsed like a comforting heartbeat.

Maybe he’s right .

These people were hundreds of years old. What was ten years against that? It would be worth it for a gemstone. And perhaps… I wouldn’t want to leave in the end.

But what about—

No. I would have my children. My people. I would live among legends until the end of the time.

— my boys?

My breath caught. What would happen to Jon and Cliff? Ten years of captivity? Or would they be released tonight, glamoured into forgetting I ever existed?

The foreign, quelling thoughts tried to roar overtop my worries. Not mine. This wasn’t me.

Hand shaking, I reached for the pendant and closed my hand around it. I felt as though I were ripping my own heart out as I tore the cord free from my neck, but the moment it snapped, my vision became sharper. My senses surged back to life with overwhelming clarity. The other fairies cried in alarm as I tossed the pendant across the room .

“What did you do?” I whispered, suddenly feeling as though I’d been held underwater for hours. Dread coiled through my stomach. I had underestimated Marcellus. All of them. A foolish mouse in an owl’s nest.

Marcellus raised his hands in peace. “The pendant only amplified your true desires.”

Liar .

Although my heart was cracking in two, I said, “I don’t want it. Not with a price so steep. I’m going to collect my hunters and you will let us out of here.”

Through the large doorway, I caught glimpses of iridescent wings rushing over the water. Even a few of the nearby fairies pulled away, making me think I’d somehow intimidated them—until I heard the distant call of the sirens growing louder.

“The feast is upon us,” Marcellus said to me, stone-faced. “I advise you to accept my bargain, Sylvia. It has been far too long since we’ve had a proper ceremony. Don’t you want to enjoy it the way you’re meant to? You have a place here. A family. Haven’t you missed feeling at home?”

“Stop talking like you know me.”

“I do know you, my dear.” Marcellus drew closer, his gaze flickering over my traitor mark. “You’ve been terribly lonely, haven’t you? Searching for belonging only to be rejected time and time again. I have lived your life, suffered through your fate.”

More sirens were chirping, singing a melody that tempted me to turn in admiration. Fairies joined the tune, their combined voices echoing through the cave. I realized with a jolt that harmonies were coming from the entrance, where I’d left Jon and Cliff.

“This is not where I belong,” I growled. The delicate gown hugging my hips suddenly felt like a betrayal, the soft fabric chafing everywhere it touched. I wished I could gouge the sacred warrior rune from my skin .

I backed away into the nearby fairies who had stayed behind to form a wall behind me.

Marcellus crowded forward, desperation finally beginning to darken his stoic features. “Don’t you see that the stars have fated you to come here? You are a treasure, Sylvia. It’s no mere accident that you arrived with the very offering we needed for the Celestial Feast.”

I froze. “What offering?”

He chuckled as though I were being facetious. “The stars demand blood, and our sisters must feed on this most sacred of nights. Open your eyes—you know what you’ve done.”

Horror ripped through me so viscerally, all I could do was release a choked sob, covering my mouth with my hands as I felt the cavernous lack of the presences I’d come to know so well.

I’ve killed them.

Jon and Cliff—I’d left them behind. Abandoned them to these lunatics. Were they already dead? Did I have time to make it back to them before—

Marcellus pulled my hands away from my face, his body like a wall before me. His thumbs brushed away the tears rolling down my cheeks. “Shh, don’t be alarmed. Look at me. This isn’t a sin—it’s a beautiful thing, Sylvia. The stars speak through you. It’s an honor.”

No—these weren’t the celestial forms I’d been raised to revere. The stars asked respect and reverence, but not blood. Never blood.

I thrashed, manic and animal. A small, startled circle of space opened around me as the nearest fairies shuffled back.

“You’re insane,” I snarled, jabbing a finger toward Marcellus before flinging my hand wide, whirling. “ All of you! Fuck your stars, and fuck you . This isn’t sacrifice, it’s murder.”

The crowd began to close in on me again, and my throat became tight. The urge to fight, to hurt them , bubbled up in me. But I was vastly outnumbered.

Marcellus closed the distance between us again, and I realized another step backward would have me against the wall. He seized my arm like he was claiming me. My skin felt hot where he touched it as I glowered up at him through my lashes.

“You tricked me,” I seethed. Fresh tears—angry and humiliated—spilled down my cheeks.

“I told you many truths,” he countered, wrestling back into a calm voice. His unshakeable demeanor had been a comfort—now, it terrified me.

Many truths , I thought bitterly. Notes of honesty that had been velveteen sheets on a bed of bones. How could I have been so fucking stupid?

“If you hurt me,” I said in a low voice. “They will kill you.”

Marcellus smirked, cocking his head to the side. “Your hunters are a little indisposed at present.”

“You don’t know them like I do.”

Finally, a seed of unease flickered over him. And I might not have gotten a better opportunity than that.

I pulled myself to Marcellus and drove my knee upward into his groin. I felt a sick sense of victory as his breath whooshed out of him in a pained groan—dulled with a pang as I imagined Jon and Cliff cheering me on in my mind’s eye.

While he was still doubled over, I lifted my eyes to the ceiling—to the two dozen fae lights glimmering overhead. I shouted my incantation, magic roiling in my veins. I raked my hands downward, ousting both chandeliers and plunging the chamber into darkness.

Fairies cursed and shouted, igniting spellwork to draw new lights. I moved quickly in the chaos. I doubled back, seizing the satchel still slung on Marcellus’s shoulder and tearing it into my arms.

“You viper,” he growled.

He grabbed my wrist, his grip crushing. I didn’t think—I wrapped my hand around his arm and sent a bolt of ice right through his forearm. He staggered back, the shimmering blade protruding through flesh and bone—freeing me to bolt toward the door.

Stealing a look over my shoulder, I saw my ice already cast to the floor, Marcellus healing the wound with extraordinary speed.

Other fairies clawed at me as I fled, their hands tearing at the fabric of my gown, grasping at the ends of my hair, their voices overlapping in a horrible roar. With a burst of adrenaline, I leapt onto the stone balcony and dove off. My wings snapped open to catch the air as Isoared into the cavern passageway.