My eyes snapped open.
Memories came rushing back. The Fairy Glen. Idris leaving. My kidnapper. Talk of a dungeon. My attempted escape.
Gripping my pounding head, I struggled up from the floor. Gone was the cool, smooth marble, replaced by dark, dusty slabs of rock. This was no grand room. A hint of light leaked through thick metal barring a tiny slit of a window, set high in one wall. A bigger set of bars loomed opposite, and through them, eyes stared back at me.
I scrambled back against the wall. I didn’t know if the pale monster I’d glimpsed could break through metal, but I wasn’t about to take any chances.
“I see you have returned to the land of the living.” The voice that drifted to me was hoarse and scratchy, but otherwise… normal. It didn’t sound like a monster, but I’d long since learnt that monsters could speak pretty words and hide behind beautiful shells.
I peered through the gloom, trying to make out my companion beyond a pale shape and bright eyes. There was nothing beautiful about this particular shell. The creature was taller than I was, but hunched, like an old man. Maybe it was an old man, and I’d simply grown so accustomed to everyone being eternally young and beautiful that the sight of sagging, waxy skin and gnarled hands took me by surprise. A few wisps of shoulder length, white hair clung to a papery scalp, catching the faint light like a halo.
“Who are you?” I called, my voice high and quivering.
“Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Maelgwyn, king of the fae courts. And you, I take it, believe yourself to be the long-awaited Human Queen?”
Oh God. This was bad. Things couldn’t get much worse.
Despite the tremor of fear that crept down my spine, I blinked in surprise. After all I’d heard about the dreaded King Maelgwyn, wielder of forbidden magical power, and unchallenged conqueror, to be faced with such a shrivelled old man was rather anticlimactic. Still, I would be a fool to be deceived by such harmless appearances. I knew what he had done to his nephews. I’d seen the beasts he’d created and sent after me. It was a wonder I was alive at all.
Which begged the question, why was I alive?
“I’m not a queen,” I answered, trying to inject some confidence into my voice. “I don’t want any trouble. I just want to go home.”
Maelgwyn shuffled closer to the bars, his bright, watery eyes roving over me. I forced myself not to shy away.
“Undoubtedly. And yet, you have, inadvertently I’m sure, created trouble for me. You broke my curse, did you not?”
Even now, locked in a cell at the mercy of an evil sorcerer, I couldn’t bring myself to regret my actions. Idris deserved to be free. He deserved a chance to be happy. I didn’t much care about Anwir’s happiness, but even he didn’t deserve to be cursed. Well, maybe just a small curse…
“I didn’t have a choice,” I admitted, deciding honesty might be the best policy. “I was told it was the only way to open the rifts. All I ever wanted was to leave this place.”
“My dear woman, you were deceived.”
I knew that now. I’d been deceived at every turn.
“By breaking my curse, you forever removed the option of leaving.”
Oh. That didn’t sound good. My pulse quickened, and with it, so did the beat of pain in my head.
“You see,” Maelgwyn continued, wrapping his skeletal fingers around the bars, “the prophecy of your coming was only ever a story. A possibility. It could have applied to any unwitting human to walk through the rifts, or none at all. By waking my dear nephews, you set its predictions into action. You cannot stop it now. It is an avalanche. It will gain momentum, gathering speed until it is fulfilled. She was destined to rid evil from my bloodline. You might have opened those tombs, looked upon the princes, and walked away, unscathed. But by waking them, by casting the first stone, you made yourself the Human Queen. There can be nobody else. And now, as long as you live, the throne belongs to you. It will answer to no other, waiting for you to rid the world of… well, me. I think it's safe to assume that our dear Queen Claudia foresaw my coming, as well as yours. I’m sure you see what a tricky situation you have created.”
I gulped. As long as I live? I didn’t like where this little chat was headed.
“You have two options, my dear. The first is rather unsavoury, but should your life be snuffed out, the throne will be mine again. I’m sure you can see why that might appeal to me, though I imagine you are less than thrilled at the prospect. Your second option is marriage.”
Marriage, or death. I wasn’t sure which was worse, especially as I was certain he didn’t want me to go ahead with my impending nuptials to Anwir.
“Marriage?” I whispered.
“As my wife, you and I could rule together.” His fingers tightened on the bars. “Through you, the throne would accept me. Nobody could stand against me, not even my nephews. Through me, you would be allowed to live.”
God, what a match. What an offer. I took in his face. The sagging brow, the waxy, translucent skin, almost like baking paper. The watery, drooping eyes. The bald pate. The sad wilt of the pointed tips of his ears, collapsing in on themselves like floppy little pizza slices. I’d never seen an elderly fae, but it wasn’t age that had ravaged his body. It was magic. He had pushed the limits. Delved into darkness. He had done this to himself. But it wasn’t any of that which had me recoiling. It was the soul hiding within. Maelgwyn had ordered the death of Idris’ son. He had forced Idris to watch. He was the reason that my friend was hollow and broken. He was the cause of the agony that had flowed straight into my heart on the night of the ball, raw and consuming.
“I would rather die,” I hissed.
I meant it, but that didn’t mean I was brave. My heart thundered sickeningly as I spoke the words, coating my skin in cold sweat. Maelgwyn didn’t care; he had no qualms. He’d said it himself, my death appealed to him. Well, let him have it. I would never marry him. I would not share a throne, however unwanted, with such a beast.
Maelgwyn straightened, his hands falling to his side. “Very well. I shall order the arrangements. But know this, human. This chance will not be given again. When I walk away, I take my offer with me.”
“Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”
I almost groaned at my cliché comeback, but given the circumstances, I couldn’t be expected to be at my wittiest.
Maelgwyn glowered, leaving without another word. I rushed to my bars, pressing my face against the rough metal to watch the king’s progress. For all his sagging skin, he walked with the grace of a man in his prime, with not even a hint of doddering. There was something unnerving about the clash of his appearance against whatever strength lurked beneath. Before long, the gloomy corridor swallowed him up, leaving me alone.
I sagged against the bars.
I’d chosen death, but I wasn’t actually going to die, was I? The very idea of it was ridiculous. I was a young woman, in her prime, fit and healthy and strong. Okay, so I preferred pasta to salad, and the gym and I did not get along, but I had years, decades, before that became a problem. I couldn’t die.
Somebody would come for me.
Somehow, someone would realise I’d been taken, and they’d rescue me. They all owed me a favour, except maybe Idris or Pansy. I didn’t care who came. The witches, Jacques, even Anwir. Somebody. Anybody.
They were coming for me.
Nobody was coming for me.
