Here's the next chapter! Kind of a shorter one, but things are heating up! Here's hoping you all continue to enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoy writing it! 3
CHAPTER NINE
Nezumi's blood boiled as he stormed his way through the dark tunnels of the Unseelie Court. Shion's words twisted through him like an illness: Big talk from someone who needed a human to save him.
He didn't need a human to save him. Nezumi hadn't asked Shion to come help him. He'd been dealing with his injury on his own, gathering his strength to get back to the Unseelie Court and get his wound handled before it became a real issue—and then Shion had shown up, unafraid and idiotic, and shredded his shirt to create bandages that the arachne had then needed to slowly peel away from the still-bleeding wound in order to properly patch it.
Nezumi's boots thumped on the stones. Nevermind that Shion's impromptu first aid had given him enough time to get back to the arachne to get patched up. Nevermind that Shion had taken his knife and kept it somewhere safe. The smaller Folk might be too afraid to steal it, but the larger ones might've been drawn to its silver color.
Nezumi kicked a loose rock and watched it clatter across the ground.
Fuck.
He didn't have time for this shit.
The moment he'd come within striking distance of the Unseelie Court, a little fox with golden eyes had swooped out from a burrow and paused in front of him. Between one moment and the next, the fox changed from an animal into a pretty girl with vibrant red hair and glowing eyes.
"He's looking for you," she squeaked. "His Majesty."
Nezumi had groaned internally, though he'd been expecting it. Scorpia had informed him that the Unseelie King had grown bored of waiting for him to return, and while Nezumi was certain the knapsack with its strange contents had made it to him safely, he wasn't foolish enough to think he'd be able to avoid a confrontation.
"Thanks," he muttered.
"Good luck," she whispered, and then she shifted back into a fox and scuttled off.
The Unseelie Court's main hall was a bustle with activity as the sun began to set. No sunlight trickled through the thick stone, and the nocturnal creatures that called the Dark Court home celebrated within its walls.
The main hall was a massive domed cavern in the middle of the mountain, where all the tunnels and pathways fed into. The closer Nezumi got to it, the louder the sounds of reveling and music became. The scents of fresh meat twisted through the shadows, and shrieks erupted from smaller Folk unfortunate enough to be captured by the larger ones.
Many of the courtiers parted as Nezumi approached, knowing better than to halt his path to the Unseelie King. Nezumi no longer knew whose wrath they feared more: his or the King's. Only those whose minds were muddled with apple spiced wine were foolish enough to challenge him, but those encounters were few and far between. Nezumi still preferred to keep his guard up.
Not in the mood to fight off anyone tonight, Nezumi quietly made his way through the crowd, past a jagged stone table where a tiny sprite writhed miserably in the grasp of a hungry hobgoblin.
When he was a child, dragged away from the brightness of the Seelie Court and new to the sinister ways of its darker variant, he would have stopped immediately and tried to save her, even if it meant getting beaten bloody in the process. His silver knife was back on his hip, where it belonged, but the Unseelie King had ordered his presence "here and now", and Nezumi had learned the hard way that it was better to pretend to be a good servant and obey than try and play hero when the rest of the Unseelie Court lurked on the horizon.
He passed by them without a second glance.
The King of the Unseelie Court stood in front of his throne with a tiny collection of courtiers gathered around him. His long, gunmetal hair fell around his beautiful white face, his Stygian black eyes lancing through the crowd. Nezumi found himself struck once again by the King's frigid gaze—like a slap to the face with the blunt edge of a sword. Four trolls with skin the color and texture of dead leaves stood at the King's side. One clung to his thigh like a toddler, a plump green thumb jammed between her lips.
This was the Unseelie King Nezumi was accustomed to seeing. Dressed like a horrid nightmare, he looked ready to step onto a battlefield. His dark hair was twisted on top of his head like an iron crown, his curled black horns looking like a pair of thick braids leading to the back of his skull. He wore a tight black jacket and an even tighter pair of black slacks, complete with a heavy set of boots and a smoke-gray cloak. It tumbled over the wire-bound ruin that were his wings, black and feathered and burnt in places where iron had marred them decades ago.
Down here in the bowels of the Unseelie Court, Nezumi's interactions with the King were closely monitored. The King was even less tolerant of defiance with the eyes of his courtiers searching for even a moment of leniency. With an audience, Nezumi had learned the hard way that defiance brought pain.
Nezumi grit his teeth and swallowed back a pained hiss as he dropped to one knee and bent his head low. His dark hair pooled in the dirt. He wanted to be anywhere other than here tonight. His arm still ached from jagged knife the Seelie Knight had wounded him with, and all he wanted to do was lie down in his bed chamber, barricade the door, and close his eyes for a few moments.
But when he did close his eyes, all he saw was that human boy's face—Shion, the boy who reminded Nezumi of the beautiful flowers peppering the edges of the Seelie Court's borders—piercing him with a glare back in the alley. That same human who'd come rushing to his rescue and ruined his own shirt to make bandages for Nezumi's wounded arm.
Shion was odd, Nezumi decided—far stranger than other humans, Sighted or otherwise, that he'd encountered. He hadn't been afraid of Nezumi once he'd learned the truth of what he was. Instead, he'd been afraid for him, desperately patching together the open wound on Nezumi's arm.
Shion's skin had blanched when Nezumi encountered him outside the bakery. He'd looked a bit like an elf, then, in the dim morning light of the alley. Slight. Delicate. Fragile. Nezumi imagined he could tuck Shion under his chin and fit his whole body in the spare fold of his leather jacket with relative ease.
But the fire that had crackled through Shion's eyes when he'd finally stood his ground proved he was anything but fragile. A normal human confronted with a creature like Nezumi would have crumpled to the ground and pleaded for whatever mercy existed inside his cold, dead heart. A normal human wouldn't have glared at him and challenged him. A normal human wouldn't have helped him.
"Oh, do get up, will you," the King said with an impatient wave. His voice broke Nezumi away from his dangerous thoughts, and though it made him sick to his stomach, Nezumi was grateful for the brief distraction.
Nezumi's expression was neutral as he rose to his feet; he made sure of it. It would be dangerous to let any surprise show. He had a reputation among the members of the Unseelie Court; letting his emotions leak through would be just as dangerous as throwing himself into a pit of venomous snakes.
"You kept me waiting," the Unseelie King went on. There was a hint of mirth in his voice, but also an edge of danger.
Nezumi's fingers itched to reach for his knife; an impulse he'd learned to curb years ago. "There were a few… complications. It wasn't my intention."
"Oh, I'm well aware." The Unseelie King planted his right hand on the skull of one of the goblins. He carded his fingers through her tangled hair, pulling hard enough for her to yelp. She didn't pull away; she didn't dare. She simply sniffled and stood, miserably still, until the King grew bored and released her.
"Begone with the lot of you," the King snapped to his courtiers. "I would speak with my knight alone."
In an instant, the cluster of goblins dispersed. Nezumi watched them go, watched them flee into the nearby crowd as if it provided them safety from the King's ever-changing wrath.
The Unseelie King clicked his tongue and said, "Wicked, pitiful things. Now, do tell me the reason behind your delay last night. Scorpia informed me some… mischief occurred in the mortal city."
Nezumi's blood chilled, but he carefully replied, "I crossed paths with a Seelie Knight on my return to the Court. He sought a quarrel with me."
"Mm." The King's dark eyes flickered to the repaired sleeve on Nezumi's jacket. "I assume you showed him how foolish that decision was."
"I did."
"Hmm, very well." The Unseelie King waved his hand dismissively. "A hybrid, yes? Ugh. Disgusting. How that woman allows such hideous things to thrive in her Court, I'll never understand. And to make one a knight? What a joke."
Nezumi pursed his lips, but didn't respond. Hybrids were not welcomed in the Unseelie Court. The mingling of mortal and immortal blood created strange hybrids that could never be trusted. Any unfortunate enough to be birthed within the confines of the Court were immediately dispatched. Nezumi wasn't surprised the Unseelie King referred to his attacker as a human.
He'd grown up surrounded by hybrids. In his youth, he'd considered more than a few of them to be good companions. The King knew this all too well, and Nezumi swallowed back the childish urge to defend the memories of his childhood.
"Now," the Unseelie King purred, tilting his head to the side. He raised a slender, tattooed finger to his painted lips and tapped them. "Tell me—how did you manage to heal that wound on your arm?"
"It's still healing." Nezumi unconsciously shifted his shoulder away from the King.
"It's been mended, though. How did that happen?"
"When I returned to the Court. One of the arachne mended it." Nezumi's tongue felt thick and heavy behind his teeth, but he wouldn't say which arachne. A swarm of them thrived beneath the shadows of the mountain and, well, the Unseelie King couldn't kill them without destabilizing the primary source of the Unseelie Court's fabric supply.
"You know that's not what I meant. Before that."
Nezumi's stomach clenched.
The Unseelie King's brilliant white teeth glinted beneath the twisting flames peppered around the main hall.
Nezumi didn't respond, and the Unseelie King laughed, a cold sound that rose up out of him like a flock of startled birds taking flight. "Did you honestly believe I wouldn't find out about a Sighted human living on the edge of my Court?"
Nezumi's fists clenched; his nails bit into the skin.
"What a fine boy he must be," the King went on, "to have rescued a faerie without a second thought as to what horrors you might bestow upon him in exchange. Do tell me what he's like. I'm curious."
Nezumi was careful. His voice had to be steady; his words could not seem too indifferent or too horrified "He was just a human."
"Just a human?" The King's painted lips curled at the edges. "And it wasn't also a human who injured you?"
Adrenaline surged through Nezumi's blood, and he hoped he didn't look as gut-wrenched as he felt.
"Well, then, I have a brilliant idea." The King of the Unseelie Court pressed his fingers together in a temple position. "Bring me this human. The boy who saved you. He would be a worthy candidate for the Equinox, would he not?"
"No," said Nezumi. It was a sharp bark, a command that exploded out of his mouth before he could stop it, and several courtiers' heads turned.
Nezumi felt his stomach twist into a painful knot. Bad move. He'd played right into the King's hands.
The Unseelie King's face contorted into a demented smile. "What better way to thank the boy who so graciously saved you? The Autumn Equinox is one of our Court's most cherished celebrations. To be chosen for the honor of being sacrificed—what better way to show my gratitude to the boy who rescued my favorite knight than to bestow that honor to him and no other?"
He didn't comment on Nezumi's outburst, but there could be no doubt that he'd noticed. There was a jibe in there meant for him, but Nezumi barely heard it. He was already watching Shion die. A thousand horrible deaths. Pain he didn't deserve. What would happen after the celebration? Would the King of the Unseelie Court fill a goblet with Shion's spilled blood and force Nezumi to drink it in front of the Court, simply to prove a point?
"How about another human?" Nezumi heard himself say as if from a great distance. "Wouldn't the Court find excitement in a more… unique sacrifice?"
"Unique? Ha! How much more unique can you get than a human boy who rescued an Unseelie Knight?" The King shook his head. "No need. I am quite content with my choice. Bring me the boy two days hence." His dark eyes flashed. "Of course… You do have a personal attachment to this boy, do you not? If you're not up to the task, I'd be more than happy to assign it to Scorpia."
Nezumi's gaze flickered to the aforementioned knight. He appeared deep in conversation with a nixie girl. Nezumi's stomach churned at the sight of him. Scorpia was more of a messenger than a knight—the King often sent him on errands to the Bright Court and the surrounding lands. While there had been a time when Nezumi had been envious of him, now he found himself thankful not to share Scorpia's devotion to the Unseelie King.
You do have a personal attachment to this boy. Nezumi's teeth sunk into his lower lip. He'd never been backed into a corner like this. Refusing the King's order was a deadly game he'd never hope to win.
Shion was a human cursed with the Sight. He'd foolishly rescued Nezumi when the wise thing to do would have been to continue onward as if he'd never heard his shout. The wiser thing would have been to try and stab Nezumi with his own knife when he came to retrieve it.
Shion wasn't wise.
And now, that foolishness had painted a target on his back.
Nezumi's nails bit into his skin; it stung. Pain kept him grounded. When the darkness of the Unseelie Court began to become familiar to him, Nezumi found comfort in the pain. It reminded him that there were things to fight for. Pain meant he was still alive to fight another day.
"Do you have any objections?" The Unseelie King's sinister voice slithered into his ear like a viper, fangs poised at the ready.
Nezumi didn't respond; instead, he lowered his head and sunk into a low bow.
"There we are," the King purred. He reached out and curled several strands of Nezumi's hair around his long fingers. He yanked hard, then released. "You may go. You have your orders."
Nezumi quickly moved through the crowd, passing the table where he had seen the hobgoblin. Nothing remained of pixie beyond several droplets of claret blood and the shimmering powder of her ruined wings.
To Be Continued...