Poor Shion and Nezumi are not having a great time in the Unseelie Court. But Nezumi still owes Shion a debt, so is there some chance he can utilize it to escape?
Things at work were a little bit hectic this weekend, but thankfully I'm free from my part-time job until this upcoming Saturday. I'll be using this time to work hard on my fics and get them out for you all to enjoy!
I look forward to seeing you all in the next chapters! Stay awesome!
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Nezumi couldn't remember the scent of the Seelie Court. He'd clung to the memory for as long as he could manage, crying himself to sleep and hoping to dream of endless fields of green and colorful flowers.
The endless fields of the Seelie Court were bathed in eternal sunshine. Emerald fields stretched on in all directions as far as the eye could see, peppered with massive trees blooming with thick bushels of leaves and ripe, scarlet apples. Most of the trunks were so massive that the Folk crafted homes in them, using magic to secure the safety of the tree while living comfortably inside.
Nezumi and his sister—as the offspring of the Seelie Queen's messenger—lived in a tree hovel right outside the little hill that served as the Seelie Court's castle. The hill contained the Queen's chambers, the throne room, and an area for the Seelie Queen to meet with messengers and officials from other Courts. The meeting room had no natural lighting, to cater to the Unseelie Folk that were incapable of surviving in direct sunlight. Nezumi had never been inside it, though his mother informed him it was a small, rather uncomfortable room with a large table, a collection of charms, and lamps burning with pretty green flames.
While their mother conducted business for the Seelie Queen, Nezumi was tasked with watching over his little sister. He brought her to the fields with the other faerie children, weaving lilacs and asters in her wavy, black hair and circling dandelion stems around her tiny horns.
It'd been years since Nezumi was forcefully removed from the Seelie Court.
He knew, individually, what each flower in the Seelie Court's endless fields smelled like, but somehow the scents had blended together into something new and beautiful within the confines of the daylight magic.
Beneath the darkness of the Unseelie mountain, the flowers Nezumi had grown up around couldn't thrive. Dead roses and nightshade peppered the streets that led into the city, and a variety of mushrooms grew out of the walls and between the damp stones.
The Unseelie King had beaten the memories of the Seelie Court's flowers out of Nezumi's memories. He'd hacked away Nezumi's wings and left him without a prayer of escape. He'd tormented Nezumi by tossing him to the goblins and forcing him to fight them, or risk losing even more of his limbs. Nezumi no longer dreamed of those fields, chased instead by skeletal horses and the Night Riders with their parchment-white gowns and sharpened swords.
Nezumi sat in the arachne's workshop, listening to the thumps and murmurs coming from the back. He heard the phantom brushes of Shion's voice as he asked the apprentice a question, which she quickly dismissed. Nezumi couldn't make out their words, but he heard the cadence of their voices, reminding him that he wasn't out of the woods just yet.
He closed his eyes, his arms wrapped around his knees, and tried to think.
The Unseelie King had ordered him to bring Shion to the arachne to be dressed for tonight's celebration. Nezumi had made good on that order. He'd guided Shion into the darkness of the mountain, even though his soul bled every step he led the mortal boy down to his demise. The apprentice had whisked Shion off to prepare him for tonight's party.
Nezumi's heart clenched.
The Unseelie King had ordered him to bring Shion to get clothing.
He hadn't given any orders beyond that.
The celebration took place at midnight, when the moon reached the center of the sky. Beneath the mountain, the Unseelie Court couldn't see the moonlight, but Nezumi knew the King would keep a strict eye on the passage of the evening. The celebration the night before the Autumn Equinox was a night of revelry and debauchery, and the King wouldn't miss a moment of it.
The gears in Nezumi's mind began to grind.
He might have been ordered to bring Shion to fetch a new outfit, but he hadn't been instructed to bring him back to the throne room.
Nezumi's body relaxed. He could guide Shion through the shadows and out to one of the many holes within the Unseelie Court that led out into the human world. If he could find a member of the solitary fey to bribe, Shion could be brought back to the security of his mother's bakery. Beyond that, Nezumi had no idea what he would do, but for tonight, at least, Shion would be somewhere safe.
"Knight?" The apprentice's raspy voice sliced through Nezumi's memories. "Is it satisfactory?"
Nezumi lifted his head.
The apprentice shuffled to the side, drifting her four hands toward Shion as if he were a pretty ornament she'd worked hours piecing together, her multiple green eyes regarding Nezumi's expression, seeking approval. Shion stepped out from the shadows, his dark irises glinting in the dim light suspended from the walls.
The apprentice had pulled out a soft, pale purple fabric and draped Shion in it, stitching it together into a long-sleeved tunic that clung to his skin in places and billowed out in others. A delicate assembly of white lace went up the spine, which Nezumi saw as Shion turned to give him a solid view of the back. It was so different from Shion's usual clothing—a dark brown coat, button-down shirts, jeans and sneakers—that Nezumi felt it like a punch to the stomach.
He didn't look like one of the Folk—Nezumi doubted even the most talented of the arachne could pull off something that fantastical—but the lavender fabric and black leggings she'd replaced Shion's mortal attire with made him seem... inhuman.
Nezumi pressed his lips together. The enchantment-drunk gleam in Shion's eyes made him uneasy. Shion turned a second time, his arms swaying out at his sides. The sleeves of the tunic billowed out like flower petals, fluttering over the backs of his hands.
"Is it satisfactory?" the apprentice echoed. She seemed disappointed by the lack of interest on Nezumi's face, regarding the purple fabric draped over Shion's body with a judgmental eye. "I suppose I could craft something different, if you believe His Majesty might object."
"No, it's fine." Nezumi watched as Shion rose onto his toes—his sneakers had been swapped out for a thin pair of flats, which wouldn't be good for trekking through the forests.
Shion's arms pinwheeled as he attempted to maintain his balance, rolling onto his toes and back onto the balls of his feet. He twirled once, twice, and a final time, looking down at the flared hem of the tunic with wide eyes. A dreamy look crossed his face, and the sight of it made Nezumi ill.
The apprentice's green eyes lit up. "It is satisfactory, then?"
"Yes." Nezumi stepped forward, and Shion turned to face him.
A sleepy smile crossed his lips. Nezumi was well accustomed to the effects of faerie enchantment, but it unnerved him to see it so blatant on Shion's face. The unnatural dullness of his irises, coupled by the idle expression on his face, made him look dead and washed out. It was all too easy to picture him sprawled out and pale on the ground, scarlet blood spilling across the stones.
"Knight," the apprentice interjected. "Will you be requiring attire for the celebration this evening?" Her limbs reached out for the dark shades of green fabric suspended from the stone walls, the swatches of ocean blue and robin's egg that sat just within her reach. "I could make you something that would guarantee the Court would never forget the sight of you. Perhaps something to remind them of your Seelie heritage—"
"No," Nezumi said, his eyes narrowing. "That's not necessary."
The apprentice frowned. "But, then, what will you wear?"
Nezumi tapped his foot against the ground. He watched as the arachne scrutinized his ratty hair and black jacket, the shredded hem of his khaki pants. He'd retrieved them from a shop in the center of a human town, a place the Unseelie Court faeries might have felt quite at home inside. The pants were sturdy and easy to wash, and though he'd had to pull the metal buttons off, stinging his fingertips in the process, he preferred them to the flimsy faerie garments the other dark elves wore.
The apprentice tapped three of her feet, frustrated. Her mandibles clicked as if she wished to say a great many things to him about his appearance, but she seemed to think better of it. With a disgusted scoff, she turned to Shion and cupped her hands around his face.
The digits on her hands were long and slender, far thinner than those of a human. Her nails, needle-like in nature, curved along Shion's cheekbones and burrowed into his dark brown hair. She drew his face close to hers, so near that the solid bone of her protruding mandibles brushed against the corners of his lips in a delicate kiss.
"This celebration is about you, child," she cooed. "Go and show them what you're made of." She tapped her forehead against Shion's, like a proud mother, and then nudged him toward Nezumi.
Shion's smile stretched across his face as he tripped over the stones and landed at Nezumi's side. He reached out to steady himself against Nezumi's arm; Nezumi flinched at the touch, but steeled himself to catch Shion from falling.
"I will work on his outfit for the Equinox," the apprentice said to Nezumi. "Per His Majesty's request, I will use white silk to craft it. As for you"—she narrowed her eight eyes at Nezumi's leather jacket once again— "His Majesty has given us strict orders to provide you with something befitting a member of the gentry. Not... the style of dress you're so casually flaunting in my parlor."
Nezumi's fingers curled into a fist. In general, he appreciated the arachne and their dedication to the craft. Most of them were even pleasant. Most of them.
The apprentice turned and shuffled back into her hovel. The sharp points of her eight legs punctured into the slots in the stone floors, as if they'd been crafted by her feet. Nezumi watched her thorax and dorsal abdomen disappear into the shadows.
Shion shuffled from one foot to the other, wringing his wrists. Even dressed in his faerie attire, he didn't look like the subject of a great celebration. He looked like a child playing dress-up in his mother's wardrobe. The tunic was far too large, slipping down one of his shoulders and exposing a fair amount of pale, unmarked skin. There were places where the tunic clung to his skin and held fast, but the majority of the ensemble seemed as though it might tear the moment a sharp claw got too near.
Nezumi's stomach plummeted.
Perhaps that was the intention. With no effort, the whole tunic would fall to pieces. The arachne were masters of putting together clothing that could withstand an onslaught of abuse. If the apprentice had crafted Shion's clothes to be flimsy and tearable, it had been done with a purpose.
Something tapped Nezumi between the eyes, He reeled back, his hand darting for the silver knife pressed at his hip.
Shion peered back at him, his hand lowering. Nezumi's throat clenched, his heart hammering in his chest. Somehow, he'd missed Shion reaching up to poke him on the forehead. He'd lost track of the human standing right before him—a potential enemy who might've harmed him if he dropped his guard too quickly.
"You look upset." Shion tilted his head to the side. Flecks of glitter clung to the nape of his neck, tangled in the nest of thin hair gathered at the base of his skull. "What's wrong?"
Nezumi turned and marched for the door. He swallowed the lump in his throat, choking it down. When had Shion managed to skip his radar? When had he become so present in Nezumi's life that he blended seamlessly into it? Nezumi had only known him for a brief while—their world tangled with misery and the errant threat of death—but somehow, in that short span, Shion had become as much a part of Nezumi's existence as his lungs or his heart.
I'm fucked. Nezumi pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. I'm seriously fucked.
The soft thump of Shion's flats padded their way across the ground, approaching Nezumi. He prickled at the thought of someone standing behind him—someone whose movements he couldn't see or anticipate—but Nezumi forced the nausea and the discomfort aside. He only had a single shot. Just a moment to make the right choice and get Shion out before the celebration.
"Follow me," Nezumi hissed over his shoulder. "Keep your head low and don't say a damn word until I tell you to, do you understand me?"
The enchantment muddled Shion's mind, but he seemed to understand what Nezumi had instructed. He lowered his gaze to the floor and folded his hands demurely in front of his stomach, looking for all the world like the sacrifice he was destined to become.
Nezumi set his jaw and stepped out into the hall.
A pierce pair of golden eyes flashed from the shadows, and Nezumi's thoughts of freedom vanished.
Scorpia materialized from the darkness, arms folded across his black-armored chest. He lanced Nezumi with a stern look, and then his gaze flipped over to Shion. He regarded the lilac color of the tunic, the places where it was intended to unravel with the slightest effort. His golden eyes clicked back to Nezumi, a sinister smile playing on his lips.
"His Majesty has requested that you bring his guest to him." He looked at Nezumi's face, then over to Shion's soft posture and averted gaze. "Were you in a hurry?"
A jaw in Nezumi's muscle twitched.
Scorpia, sensing the corner he'd backed Nezumi into, flashed all his teeth. "I shall escort you." He moved behind Shion, blocking their exit with his body. The words didn't cross his lips, but the threat burned behind his irises: Try and escape from me. I want you to try.
Nezumi straightened his spine and marched toward the throne room with Shion in tow.
To Be Continued...