Well, now that the boys have been thoroughly messed up emotionally, let's work on getting things underway so they can hopefully get out of the Unseelie Court without anything else going amiss!
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
At noon, Nezumi grew uncomfortable laying stock-still on his mattress and decided to go for a walk. He slipped off the bed, easing Shion's arm from around his waist and tucking it gently back into the comforter. He hadn't slept a wink since Shion had dozed off, laying and staring up at the ceiling as the tears came freely, not reacting when Shion burrowed close to him and wrapped his arms around him.
He locked his door behind him, knowing that Shion wouldn't awaken for awhile and understanding that most of the Court would still be unconscious from last night's revelry. The guards would be blocking all the exits, leaving no room for an escape plan, and Nezumi's mind raced too much to formulate a halfway decent one that would guarantee even a modicum of success.
He wandered aimlessly through the mountain, ducking into caverns, tiptoeing past sleeping Folk sprawled in the hallways, desperately searching for an answer even though he knew there weren't any.
No matter how many times he kicked around ideas in his skull, formulated a strategy, or fantasized about a knife pressed to the Unseelie King's throat, nothing panned out. Magically speaking, Nezumi was not powerful enough to take down a faerie king. Especially not a nightmare-inducing, sanity-shattered bog who'd been perched on the throne for well over three centuries.
Thoughts rattled through Nezumi's head like a swarm of bees.
There had to be something he could do, say, or give to make things right. The Autumn Equinox was an important ceremony, but human sacrifice wasn't part of the event. The Unseelie King had introduced it almost two centuries ago, desperate for a change from the animals the faeries slaughtered in previous generations. The King's personal vendetta against humanity fueled his twisted tradition, encouraging his warriors to hunt down a suitable human, praise them for an evening, and spill their blood the following night.
There had to be something Nezumi could sacrifice instead of a human. Something he could do to trick the Unseelie King, the Unseelie Court, and spirit Shion out of danger before the knife sliced through his neck. There had to be an answer.
Unless he could find it, Shion would die at midnight and Nezumi would be forced to watch.
He rested his head against one of the stone pillars and closed his eyes. He'd wandered into one of the deep caverns beneath the Unseelie throne room, devoid of life aside from a few maggots and rodents.
Nezumi didn't understand what he was so worked up about. Shion was human. His lifespan may have seemed like an eternity to another mortal, but to someone who would know true immortality, a human life lasted but a single day. Shion might have held some strange power over Nezumi's thoughts at this one moment in time, but someday he would be little more than a faded face Nezumi could barely recall.
Just another victim to the Unseelie King's madness.
Equinox sacrifices were meant to be quick. Nezumi had never witnessed one, but he'd heard stories about sacrifices made in previous cycles. The human's throat was slit and their blood spilled across the floor. Death was almost instantaneous. The human was, more often than not, pumped full of apple spice wine and enchanted fruit, unashamed and unaware of their own existence, let alone the silver knife at their throat. If there was pain, it was gone almost as quickly as it came.
A quick, mostly-painless death. Humans could not ask for better in this world. Nezumi knew pitying Shion would do neither of them any good. He should just pretend it meant nothing and move on with his own life. He had his own scars, his own burdens. He didn't need to concern himself with the fate of a doomed human. Shion's life would end in less than ten hours, cut short by a sacrificial blade, and Nezumi needed to worry about his own immortal one.
Nezumi's stomach twisted. Dammit. Something was wrong with him. The thought of Shion sprawled on the ground, throat split and blood pouring over the polished stones, made him sick. Nezumi put a hand to his head. Keep it together.
He pushed away from the wall and began a slow, purposeful path through the halls and toward the Unseelie King's audience chamber.
Since the beginning of the Autumn Equinox ritual, Nezumi hadn't actively sought out the King without being called upon. The last time he'd gone ignored for any notable length of time, the Unseelie King had hunted down and slaughtered as many rats as he could find. Nezumi had returned to find his bedchamber walls covered in rodent intestines, his floor littered in dissected carcasses, and more than a few affixed to the walls like macabre Winter Solstice decorations.
Someday Nezumi feared he would find one of his few companions felled and dismembered. Perhaps the Unseelie King would use Shion's corpse to decorate his room again the next time Nezumi displeased him.
Nezumi didn't have to wander too far. As if sensing him approach, the Unseelie King stood in the middle of his audience chamber in the center of the Unseelie Court. He was sheltered beneath the shadow of a garish awning held over him by two massive ogres that looked decidedly nervous.
"Well, now, there you are." The Unseelie King smiled. Black lipstick marked his otherwise flawless teeth, the only sign he'd let loose during the revelry the night before. Beyond that, every hair on his head was perfectly pulled into a neat braid, winding around his sharp horns and trailing down his back. He wore a plain black robe and a pair of slippers that looked as if they'd been crafted of rabbit fur. It was clear, to Nezumi at least, that the Unseelie King had just rolled out of bed and thrown together an outfit suitable for receiving guests.
"I would have sent Scorpia to fetch you," the Unseelie King said, "but I thought you could use some rest after your, ahem, late night." He held out a hand and beckoned Nezumi forward with a sinister grin on his face. "And yet here you are, coming to me for once! You must have had an exceptional time last night. Do tell me all about it."
"There's nothing to tell." Nezumi leaned against the stone wall and made no move to approach.
The Unseelie King wrinkled his nose. "Nothing? Ugh. How boring."
Nezumi pressed his lips together and bit back the retort that threatened to burst out. Talking to the Unseelie King was the last thing he wanted today. He didn't want to talk to the Unseelie King ever unless he had a reason.
And unfortunately, due to an ache in his chest that wouldn't go away whenever he pictured those warm brown eyes turning dull as the life bled out of them, Nezumi found that he had a reason.
"Well, I suppose attitude is the name of the game." The King sat back on a gnarled, worm-eaten chair that one of his guards dragged up for him. "You've changed so much these past few years. I can't say I'm displeased with the results."
"Adapting is the name of the game," Nezumi corrected. He never enjoyed dealing with the Unseelie King, but the more he thought about Shion, asleep in his bedchamber and tangled up in his sheets, the more feigning any sort of civility became a necessity. He needed time to think and he needed information that, sadly, the Unseelie King possessed.
"Well, then, I'm impressed with how well you've adapted." Without looking behind him, the King reached out a hand; a collared sprite appeared out of the shadows and slipped a goblet of blood-wine into his palm before trembling back to the security of the darkness. "Do you remember how pathetic you used to be? Crying every time someone knocked you into the dirt. Screaming when a pixie got his arm chopped off after losing a game. Begging me to let you go back into the sunlight." He shuddered in disgust. "Horrible stuff, sunlight. I really don't understand how you can tolerate it."
Nezumi pressed his spine against the wall. He could feel the cold stones through the thin fabric of his shirt. He hadn't even bothered to pick his jacket off the ground and put it on. What was happening to him?
The Unseelie King rose from his chair and glided across the room. His guards scurried to keep the awning over him as he moved. If they failed, they'd suffer a miserable whipping, regardless of who was at fault.
As the shade fell over him, Nezumi was torn between standing his ground and embedding a knife between the King's hollow rib cage. The attempt wouldn't yield any results aside from pain—with Nezumi on the receiving end of the worst of it—but the momentary satisfaction the look of shock that crossed the Unseelie King's face would bring was almost worth it.
"It's adorable," the Unseelie King grinned, "how you think I don't see what's happening."
Nezumi bit back the first reply that came to mind. He'd already damned himself. He ran his fingers down the jagged stone of the cavern wall pressed to his back; inside the ancient structure, he could feel the remnants of so many fallen warriors.
"If I'd known it was this easy to rattle you, I would have sent you to gather all of our previous sacrifices." The Unseelie King threw his hands in the air and gave a dramatic sigh. "Think of the years of entertainment I've overlooked! How could I have guessed you had a soft spot for humans?"
Nezumi felt compelled to point out that he didn't have a soft spot for humans. Even now, after everything he'd been through, he felt himself struggling to understand what made Shion a notable exception. Nezumi had never put anyone before his own preservation since arriving at the Unseelie Court. And now, one single human had toppled everything Nezumi had worked so hard to achieve. A single human had fragmented his walls so much that Nezumi doubted he could ever build them back the way they'd been before.
And if Shion died—
"You must have come to me for a reason," the Unseelie King purred. He stepped away from Nezumi, who relaxed just a bit as the overwhelming shadow eased back from him and put a bit of distance between them. "I doubt you came just to stare at me."
"The Autumn Equinox," Nezumi said carefully.
The Unseelie King's sharp teeth glinted as he smiled. "What about it?"
"I've never attended," Nezumi went on, struggling to keep the emotion off his face. He suspected the Unseelie King could see the tremors in his hands, the things he'd never been able to hide even with years of practice. "I don't have any information about where you want me to go or what you want me to do. All I know is that Sh—the human must be present before midnight."
The Unseelie King's dark eyes sparked with excitement. "Your task for the Equinox is quite simple, my dear. Simply go to the arachne, fetch the garments you and the mortal will be wearing, and bring him to the throne room at an hour to midnight. Come earlier if you desire, though I suspect you might be otherwise occupied."
A sick tone bled through his words, and Nezumi's stomach twisted.
"I don't care what you and the mortal get up to," the Unseelie King said, "provided you bring the boy to the throne room at an hour to midnight with no detours." He gave Nezumi a once-over and then cocked his head to the side. "It'll take you a while to become presentable enough for the Equinox, so whatever you intend, make sure you're finished with plenty of time to prepare. I trust you and the human can get your fill of each other in that time frame, yes?"
Disgust raged in Nezumi's chest like a living thing. His fingers twitched, itching to reach down for his blade and carve that hideous smile off the King's face. The memory of the night prior—of his lips brushing against Shion's, an impulse he hadn't been able to conceal—burned in the forefront of his mind, and no matter how hard Nezumi tried to focus on the cold sensation of the stones against his back or the terror of the Unseelie King looming before him, he couldn't forget how it'd felt to kiss Shion, to lay beside him and watch him fall asleep.
It's fine if you can't save me. I'll forgive you.
The Unseelie King waved his hand toward Nezumi and said, "If that's all you came to inquire about, then be off with you. I have to begin preparing for the Equinox, and I have no time to entertain the nonsense of a faerie foolish enough to fall in love with a doomed human."
Nezumi narrowed his eyes at him and said, "I am not—"
The word jammed in his throat, and Nezumi choked. He could feel it in the back of his throat, on the tip of his tongue, growing harder to swallow the more he tried to force it out. Hatred and terror shot through him all at once, and he felt the world shatter like glass the more he tried to deny it. Panic bled through him because how? How had this happened? How could he have been this careless?
The Unseelie King smirked at him and sauntered into the shadows. "Go to the arachne and fetch your attire. Then go and be with your human. Get it all out of your system while you still have the chance. I wouldn't want you to have any... regrets, after all."
He stalked into the shadows, laughing, and Nezumi hated him more than he hated his own weakness.
⁂
Nezumi stormed through the caverns toward the arachne's workshop, hating the Unseelie King, hating himself, hating everything to do with the Unseelie Court. His boots crunched on the broken stones, and he no longer cared if he woke the sleeping creatures in the little hovels. He hoped he did. If one of them crawled out of the stone to shout at him for being too loud, at least he'd have something to take his frustration out on.
He slowed a bit, realizing that doing so would make him no better than the Unseelie King. He hated himself even more. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked the rest of the way to the workshop with a stone in his heart.
The tunnels leading to the arachne were dim and quiet. As a child, Nezumi felt they were ever-changing, shifting and growing depending on the will of the Court. The path never seemed the same each time he walked it, needed the arachne to stitch up his clothes because some overzealous faerie had shredded them to bits or because he needed someone to bind his wounds. The pathway to the arachne's workshop was so big, and Nezumi had been small and afraid, longing for the comfort of his mother's lullabies or his sister's flower crowns.
He now knew that the changing of the pathways came from the way the lights shifted. The baubles embedded in the walls, each housing a broken-hearted sprite, cast eerie shadows across the caverns that flickered and twisted as the sprites' lights waxed and waned.
Nezumi lowered his head from them as he stalked by, unable to stand the look in their dull, miserable eyes. Their colors might have been red and blue, purple and green, but they reminded him of the dull, enchanted look in Shion's eyes just before he'd drifted off to sleep. He couldn't look at it, couldn't think about it, or else he'd go mad.
Lights glinted within the workshop, and Nezumi knew in an instant that they'd been expecting him.
He ducked into the dimly lit room, his heart stilling for a beat as he beheld his arachne working hard at the loom. Her familiar black legs were bent beneath her, her head bowed as she worked diligently on a piece of dark red fabric that glinted like starlight beneath the burning flame of a candle suspended above her head. She was far larger than the apprentice, and much more of a pleasant sight.
"Good afternoon, child," she rasped over her shoulder. "I will be with you momentarily."
She worked the thread through the loom, focusing strictly on the task at hand. Nezumi walked to one of the empty tables and perched on top of it. He felt like a child again, sitting in the arachne's workshop, waiting for her to finish stitching together fabrics before coming over to mend his various cuts and scrapes. Were he in a better mood, he might have traded a song to her in exchange for a new piece of clothing, but his heart was no longer in it. He didn't know if he could sing even if he'd been commanded to do so.
"My apprentice worked diligently on your outfit for the Equinox," the arachne said, more to fill the silence than to hold any form of communication. She waved one of her four hands toward a pile of fabric on the table beside her; Nezumi could make out something in black, and then beneath it, something crisp and white. "She did a poor job, so I had to redo them."
She, at least, didn't sound overjoyed at the project. Her voice came out as neutrally as if she'd commented on the color of the sky or the weather, and Nezumi was grateful for the lack of excitement revolving around the Equinox.
"I saw her handiwork with the human's tunic," the arachne said over her shoulder. "A poorly timed joke."
"The Court found it amusing," Nezumi mumbled.
"Indeed. But those idiots will find most things amusing with the right amount of wine in their blood."
Nezumi huffed out a humorless laugh. He understood better than anyone how foolish some Folk could become after a few drops of wine entered their system. Too many had fallen to the King's wrath for growing bold beneath the alcohol's control and attempting to pull on the feathers of his broken wings. One of the King's feathers would sell for a fortune to the Solitary Fey—if only because gaining access to one was a near impossibility.
"My friends," the arachne went on, "informed me that you spent the night with the mortal."
Nezumi looked at the floor. The arachne had a strong connection with the various spiders that dwelled beneath the mountain. It shouldn't have surprised him that one of them spotted Nezumi bringing Shion to his bedchamber and then leaving without him.
The arachne continued to work at her loom. "I know the wound you received did not come from a fight with the Solitary Fey," she said. "That was my assumption, but you did nothing to correct me. I understand now that it was that human boy who'd assisted you when you were wounded." She stopped pulling the thread through and murmured, "I'm surprised you fell in love with a human."
"I'm—" Nezumi closed his eyes and didn't even bother.
"And yet, at the same time, I'm pleased you found someone to give your heart to."
Nezumi lifted his head.
The arachne had stepped away from the loom, and she steadily approached Nezumi. She'd turned toward him, her four arms held in front of her, and Nezumi realized that she was carrying something in both sets of hands as she approached him.
He looked up, and his stomach dropped.
The left side of her face was a scarred, mangled ruin. The mandible had been wrenched away from her face, leaving a bright red, jagged wound that hadn't quite begun to heal. The eye-socket on her left side was vacant and deep, like a bullet hole, and the several on the side were scratched out, leaving a mess of skin and scar tissue in its wake.
"Arachne eyes," she said slowly, "are a delicacy to some Folk. I traded away half of my sight to a Solitary dwarf in exchange for some assistance."
"What," Nezumi whispered, "did you need assistance with?"
The arachne shook her head. "Not for me, child."
She extended her hands out to him. Nezumi looked down at her palms. Cradled in her long fingers were a small vial with what appeared to be a clear, foggy liquid, and two pendants crafted of smooth, pale moonstone. Both were small and easy to hide beneath the collar of a shirt or a jacket, held by thin ropes that could also disappear beneath most clothing.
"The vial," she explained, lowering her voice to a whisper that only Nezumi could hear, "is saltwater. Nothing difficult, but it will erase faerie enchantment. The pendants," she gestured to them with her head, "are stronger. They are intended for creating glamours."
"I already know how to make a glamour," Nezumi said slowly.
"Not these types. This glamour rivals those even the Unseelie King could craft. With this glamour, one can hide from even the most intelligent Folk. Any faerie who uses these can disappear completely from the faerie world and thrive in the mortal one. Even iron wouldn't be able to slice through this type of glamour. Only the finest dwarves know how to craft them, and they would do anything to mess with the Unseelie King's ceremony." The corner of her ruined mouth twitched upward in a small smile. "As for humans, the pendants can mask them from the Folk for a time. Confuses their senses and makes them forget they'd seen them. It won't work long term, mind you, but it would work well enough to escape."
Nezumi looked up at her as she deposited the items into his hand. The moonstone was cool as ice, and the vial shifted into the crease of his hand, so small he wondered if it'd been filled with tears.
"You don't deserve this wretched place," the arachne murmured. "Your heart is too kind. I cannot help you escape from the Court, but once you do, these will help you make your way in the world without it." She tilted her head to the side; in her single eye, Nezumi thought he saw a spark of mischief. "Do not take this the wrong way, child, but should you escape, I hope to never see you again."
Nezumi clenched the items and stuffed them into his pocket. Words failed him now in a way they never had before. Gratitude and guilt warred inside him, and if he'd been a weaker faerie, he might have broke down and started weeping at her feet. He listened, briefly, for the sounds of any spies that might have been lingering. When he didn't find any, he rose from the table and stepped toward the arachne.
She leaned forward and bumped her chin against the top of his head, the closest she'd ever come to hugging him. "You have no need of it any longer," she said, low in his ear, "but I am called Griva."
"I will remember it," Nezumi replied.
"Now then," Griva exclaimed, stepping back from him, "I have work to do. I shall deliver your clothing for the Equinox directly to your bedroom. I have a few... modifications I wish to make to the fabric before tonight's celebration."
She wandered back to her loom. Nezumi watched her work for a moment longer, burning the image of her into his mind so he would never forget it. He placed his hands into his pockets, nodded his head to her, and retreated into the hall as Griva began humming over her work.
To Be Continued...