Too late, I realised my choice of words. Just dead? I cringed, shifting in my seat as my skin heated. What an idiot. But Idris either didn’t notice, or chose to overlook my faux pas. I ploughed on, determined to move away from the topic of death. “I left my charger back in the tent I was staying in, you know, in my world. If only I’d put it in my bag. Still, I don’t suppose you have electrical plugs here.”
“It charges with electricity?”
I blinked at the surprised tone of his voice, like he was as shocked as I was that he’d finally understood a word I’d said. “Yeah. You don’t have electricity, do you?”
He gave another small smile. When would I get to see another wide one? “May I?”
I placed the phone in his waiting hand, hope swelling inside me, even as I tried to stamp it out. I knew better. Good things didn’t happen here. But I thought of Saeth, and taking to the skies with the dishevelled prince now sat trustingly at my side. I was wrong.
There was some good in this world.
Idris examined my phone, turning it over and over in his long, white fingers. It was dwarfed in his enormous hands. A joke phone. I held my breath, terrified he might drop it, but he treated it with the same care he’d shown his drawing book.
The hairs on my arms rose, standing on end.
I’d barely had a chance to notice the strange reaction of my body when a faint simmering crackle emanated from Idris’ hands. My mouth fell open as white fronds of light spread over his skin, reminding me of the little strobes inside the plasma ball I’d had in my room as a kid. The blue-white light extended to my phone, streaking over the screen.
I stifled my gasp with a hand clapped to my mouth when a symbol appeared on that stubbornly dark surface. A battery, filling before my eyes.
“Idris!”
The battery filled in record time, and the electric light faded into nothing, leaving only my phone lying in the most extraordinary hands I’d ever seen. I forgot my manners, snatching it back and pressing the power button down.
I sobbed, half in delight, half in dumbfounded disbelief when the screen fired up. “Idris, you fixed it!”
My hands shook as I keyed in my password and my background appeared, a close up of me and my friend, Abby, both a little drunk and clutching cocktails, beaming back at me. I’d almost forgotten what she looked like. I stared at the image for a long moment before my watery eyes drifted to the symbols in the top corner. No signal. Not that I’d expected there to be. Even that couldn’t dampen the sheer joy I drowned in. I flicked through my apps and clicked the gallery.
Tiny square glimpses of the life I’d left behind unfolded in my hands. “Oh my God. Oh my God!”
Without thinking, I twisted, throwing my arms around Idris’ neck, my phone still clutched tightly in one hand. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
An awkward pat landed between my shoulders, nothing like the bone crushing squeeze I’d been enveloped in last night. My smile widened, even as tears tumbled down my cheeks.
I let him go, dashing the back of my knuckles over my wet face. “How can I ever thank you?”
“You just did. Three times, in fact.”
“No, but really. This means everything to me.” My words ended with a squeak, and I stopped talking before I dissolved completely.
“Consider it payment for me ruining your ball.”
“You didn’t ruin anything.” He blinked at my words, as though he didn’t quite believe them, but excitement rushed through my veins like the magic undoubtedly rushing through his. “I had no idea you had electric magic. Isn’t Anwir’s power lightning? Do you have it too?”
I could have sworn I’d heard that Anwir was the only fae with lightning powers, but I must have jumbled the facts somewhere along the way. There had been a lot of unbelievable information to take in, after all.
“Only a tiny bit, not enough to do anything useful.”
Was that why he had the power to grant immortality? Because his lightning magic was weak? Anwir had said fae couldn’t have too much power. Weak or not, Idris’ power was a gift.
“It is useful,” I insisted. “Honestly, this means so much to me, you have no idea.”
One side of his mouth curled up as he nodded at my phone. “Do me one favour? Don’t tell anyone I did that. I have an image to protect.”
“Ah yes, the brooding, bad-tempered prince image. I would never dream of spoiling it for you.”
“Good.” He smiled. A proper smile, showing all his teeth. My belly flipped again, and my breath hitched. I’d done it. I’d won a genuine smile. Pride swelled in my chest. This was worth more than any good grade. “Now, I believe you promised to show me photos of your parents?”
My parents. I scrolled eagerly, my heart swelling with such happiness that it threatened to burst out of my chest and soar on silver wings.
“Look,” I said, shielding my screen from the sun. “This is my mum. We went out for breakfast on Mother’s Day. We had the best waffles ever.”
Idris leaned in close, as I showed him picture after picture. My family, my friends, my life. He smelled faintly of wine and bacon, but I didn’t mind a bit as he let me share my world with him.
A human and a fae who had lost everything but their memories.
32In My Defence, It Was Hot
My pillow was drenched. I couldn’t remember ever crying as much. I was half joy, half crushing heartbreak. Idris had given me the most precious of gifts, and at the same time, shattered my soul. We’d parted ways with a promise to charge my phone whenever needed and, I thought, a tentative something growing between us. Maybe not friendship, but understanding.
But just because he’d promised to charge my phone, it didn’t mean I had to go skulking back that very same day, so reluctantly, I closed my screen, hiding my photos and videos from view. I’d spent much of the last few hours laid on my bed, quietly weeping over my camera roll, remembering half-forgotten faces, listening to voices and laughter I sometimes believed I’d never hear again. Interspersed with images of my own life came flashes in my mind of Idris’ son, smiling up at me, eternally two years old.
I couldn’t wallow forever. There was pressing work to be done.
Pocketing my phone, I slid from the bed and donned my shoes. A glimpse of my reflection showed blotchy, red skin, and eyes swollen from crying, but I merely splashed a few handfuls of cold water over my face and smothered myself in the magical dewy cream I’d used the previous night before I left my suite. My pride was unimportant in the face of bringing a modicum of peace to Mum and Dad.
On my way out of the door, I picked up the sealed envelope containing my letter home. Several ruined drafts littered the desk, some discarded because my shaking hands had taken a long time to steady, others because I’d struggled to convey my continued existence while also justifying my absence without leaving my parents to question my sanity. In the end, I’d left out any mention of Neath, settling for simple assurances that I was safe, and would return home as soon as I could. I’d explain the rest in person. They wouldn’t believe a word of it, but I owed them the truth. Until then, my handwriting and promises would have to do.
For that, I needed the rightful king.
