Chapter 1
There was a knock at the door forcing her to unfold herself from the couch with a long, dramatic sigh. Another rhythmic rap came soon after as she finished her last stretch.
“Coming,” she called, making her way to the door with a whine from her final muscle ache.
A man. A handsome man with black hair shimmering so bright she thought there were microscopic golden flakes incrusted in his hair. The point of his ears sticking out among the tussle of curls. His eyelid decorated in a sparkling wash of shimmer making his golden eye stand out from the near void opposing one.
“Hello?” Her eyebrow raised, and her arms slowly folding in front of her. The man may be pretty, but his general aura radiated mischievousness. She took a deep breath: listen to his words and think heavily on their implication before speaking.
“You summoned me.” He had not looked towards her from the doorway. Scanning it up and down, running a finger upon the trim, but quickly pulled his finger away when he realized there was in fact, dust. A lot of it. After dramatically rubbing his fingers together making the dust float into the air, he caught her eye.
Surprise pooled across his face before a small smirk appeared. “Hello,” he straightened up and bowed deeply before raising his head just high enough to show his sparkly white teeth, “mortal.” He slowly straightened, walking past the visibly confused woman into her home.
“I’m sorry,” Rynn shakes her head trying to focus on one thought as she follows the man into her house. “You need to leave.” She reached her hand under his arm and gave a suggestive, but forceful pull towards the door. His jewelry spoke, swinging back and forth as the man deadweighted against her pull. He’s strong. A lot stronger than he looks. Rynn slides back, the slight caution turning into a full on defensive.
“I do not wish to harm you.” The man stuck up his hands and lowered his head but the smirk remained. His gaze slowly drifted to the small entryway table, which sat a black candle she received in the mail and an unopened soda she had set down, forgetting it clearly, to light the new candle.
“You summoned me.” He raised his brows watching the woman piecing it together.
“That bitch.” Rynn whispered under her breath, shaking her head to hold back a laugh, she reached for the candle trying to pull it off the table, but it was too late. It had become an altar. She leaned over the candle to examine the back and there it was. A small, crescent shaped rune, etched into the wax in the back of the candle.
“What do you want?” She turned towards the man, well fairy, in her kitchen. He rolled his eyes, raising his arm and with and unfurled his elegant finger, pointing at the can.
“Ginger beer?” The woman grabbed the can off the table and held it out to the fae man, “you transported realms to drink a soda?”
“Yes,” he did not move, “you put it on my altar, it’s a gift for me. I want it.”
“Okay, take it.” She jerked the outreached can upwards at him.
“You expect me to drink it out of a can?” His eyes narrowed and his smirk thinned out, the amusement that bounced around his words, gone. A straightforward question; a rarity from fae lips.
She dropped her arm, dumbfounded. She couldn’t tell if it was because of his tone or the fact that he used that tone for this request. The confusion made her guard drop, letting her lips move before her mind could tell her to stop, “you can’t take the can, go back to your castle, and get one of your servants to crack it over ice?”
The fairy straightened back-talk was new, but he smiled before he spoke, “the can will crush when I travel. I believe it’s the carbonation and the pressure.” He moved his hands imitating a crushing can between them. It made Rynn shiver as she remembered the feeling of when she went to The Courts.
Once. Her stomach twists. She did not know this fae personally, but she knew fae and the way this one acts proves he’s trouble or worse: he enjoys trouble. Three things are true about fae: 1) they cannot lie; that does not mean they are telling the truth. 2) They are all magical, immortal beings, who do not forget bargains, trades, and favors; but not all have magic powers; gifts are given to those in favor of the Court of Light; House of Gods. Magic users vary; one bloodline can reach havoc in the name of power. 3) They are all beautiful, even for all their loopholes, secrets, desire, selfishness, trickery and treachery. They are beautiful. She sighed.
“I’ll get you a glass, but remember, you’re on the Earthly Courts,” she cuirassed deeply, almost too deep as she passed the man. “The glassware is a little underwhelming.”
His lips curl and his eyes light up making the implied threat seem like a fun little game. He followed her into the kitchen, sly footed, but a personal bounce remained.
A glass sat in the middle of the island and she cracked the can open slowly pouring the sudsy liquid into the glass. She tilted it, so the bubbles would leave a nice even carbonation foam at the top. She slid the glass towards the fae who had made himself at home on top of the island countertop.
He grabs the glass awkwardly as he curls his fingers around it one by one and brings it to his lips. He closed his eyes as the drink slipped past his lips draining the glass.
“I miss soda,” he mumbled, savoring the flavor until he opened his eyes. His vision blurs. He looks down into the glass and a dark red residue sits at the bottom of the glass. “Cinnamon,” he chokes out as his body goes limp, forcing him to fall forward and collapse onto the floor. Unconscious.
“I am shocked soda actually worked.” Rynn shrugged as she turned the ginger beer can over in her hand.
~~
“Alright, pretty boy,” she stood up, wiping the excess salt off her hands as she examined her work. A perfect salt circle decorated with an assortment of fae and mortal herbs to strengthen the spell. Two black wax candles melting into the hand-carved, enchanted white oak candelabra, each with their own intricate design. The one on the left had a beautiful woman drowning etched into the wood with so much detail you can see her eyes are slipping out of life. The other has a man shot in the chest with an arrow, sprawled out with an outstretched hand. A single blood droplet dripping off the edge of his middle finger. “Awaken,” the woman whispered once she finished examining her work.
“Oh,” he groaned, slowly blinking himself awake. A small smile twisted on his lips as his eyes scanned his current situation. “Oh, mortal, you are getting more and more interesting as we progress.” He stood up from the chair he was propped up on and started circling the area of the salt. He swatted down and poked at it, a small hiss escaped from his lips as he pulled his hand back. He looked up at Rynn with an unreadable expression before he made his way to the candle on the left. He stood above it staring at the white flame flickering, now twice its natural size due to the fae’s proximity.
“I just want one thing.” Rynn clasped her hands together. “Really an answer to a question.”
“I’ll answer your question,” he spun around with a skip of glee in step, “in exchange for you to answer mine.” He sat back down in his chair, he was elegant. His posture perfected to the point where he looked relaxed, but also regal. He seemed almost welcoming, but the grin that lingered on his face exposed the cunning underneath the thinly veiled charm.
“Okay,” Rynn crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, “interesting time to request something, but sure. Ask away.”
“Who taught you, mortal,” he tipped his hand, pointing his finger at her, “how to make a—” his eyes scanned the circle again trying to find the words, “fairy trap?” A soft chuckle left his lips as the words lingered in the air for a bit. She liked it when they were confused. They always tried to hide it under riddles and bargains. He was no exception, but he was far better. If he was her first, she might have lost. She still might lose.
The woman smiled, opening her mouth before closing it. Taking a moment to collect her thoughts. “What a great question,” she set her head against the wall, her eyes narrowing down at the cheeky fae. “I knew him as Vincent.” She pushed off the wall and started pacing back and forth, “but you know him by a different name.” She stopped looking at the him, his grin growing as the words slipped out. “I believe he went by,” she paused, for the drama, of course, “Prince Vanderlin.” It came out soft and low under her breath.
The fae’s face washed into a pale, emotionless state. Shock, fear, nerves; she couldn’t quite tell, but she knew she won. The missing prince’s name often struck fear in most royal fae and for good reason. He was violent, brutal, fearsome, but fair. Some may say honorable: he was the warrior king after-all.
“Now,” Rynn clapped her hands together slowly making her way in front of the now jittery creature. Rynn leaned forward to the very edge of the trap, a smile dancing on her lips. “I imagine you know what question I’m about to ask and I imagine you’re well aware of what will happen if you fall back on your word, but I shall ask anyways: where is Vanderlin, Amaris?” She dragged his name.
The man dropped his head forward into his chest before throwing it back in a fit of laughter. His arms moved with him coming together with a clap of his hands, slowly devolving into a full expression of applause. He stood up, shouting, “Bravo! Bravo! What a beautiful performance.” He placed his hand over his heart and gave a small bow. “I do, deeply, unselfishly apologize for misjudging you.” He straightened up with his pause. A look of concentration dancing on his face, “I knew Vanderlin took mortal consorts. I just wasn’t aware of how,” he sucked in a breathe, “faithful they were.” The words oozed out of his mouth covered in disgust, humor and charm.
“But I should not be shocked by a mor—“ His words started to clog in his throat. No matter how much he tried to contour the words to come out, there was nothing, but the throaty moisture filled breaths.
“I am so sick of you talking,” The woman held her hand up, three fingers pinched together. “Now, answer my question like you said you would.” She released her fingers in a small wave of her fingers.
“A witch,” he dipped his head again, “my apologies—“ his words choked as Rynn pinched her fingers again.
“Maybe, I did not make myself clear enough. I do not want another word produced from your lips unless it is an answer to my questions.” She released her fingers again, a sneer piercing her final words.
“I wish I could answer your question, but alas, I have no answer.” He shrugged and slouched into the chair, seemingly exasperated. Rynn lifted her eyebrow. ‘I have no answer’ is vague enough that he very much could know, but based on everything that has transpired, he probably does not know.
Rynn plopped down on the chair scattered from moving her dining room set up for the now pointless mess the man sat in. She rolled her neck, thinking about the next move. She has the Prince of the Lunar court trapped, which probably is not going to go over well with the Lunar court, but at this point she does not care. It had been six weeks since she had last heard from her grandfather. She only has two weeks left until the coronation and her last lead turned up dry.
“Am I free to go, witch?” He arched his eyebrow, “I assume you know your actions are not going to go unnoticed. Nor without punishment.” A smile twisted in and out of his face.
“Well, good thing I do not answer to your court.” She stretched from her spot and made her way towards the hallway.
“Excuse me?” He called after the woman before she slipped into the darkness of the hall.
“Yes, your majesty.” She gave a quick turn over her shoulder, not even bothering to fully turn around.
”If you no longer need me, I would like to go now. I swear on my life no harm will come to you on behalf of my court.”
“Good night.” She scoffed at his words, reaching out and flipping off the light. She slinked off to her bed. She needed to sleep on it.
