The last and final chapter. If you haven't reviewed yet—sadness. This chapter is fairly long, and I'm sorry Harey, it's over. I'm veering a bit from the storyline here, but I need the artistic license to make it work. Anyways, thanks for sticking with it if you did, I'm glad.
-Ash
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How can I live like this?
I sat, knees held close to my chest, up on my fluffy, luxurious bed. The room was fine in what it had, but sparsely furnished and bare, and I longed for the Seelie court, with its unending hospitality and fluffy grass so soft Ethine and I often slept under the stars, whispering and laughing. Even with its false and manipulative Queen, I wanted to go back; there was no perfect Shangri Laa, but the Seelie court was where they at least put up the appearance of goodness. Sometimes glamour is all there is.
I would kill him tonight, if I had my way. I could kill the Night Lady as well, and maybe Roiben could get away. It was a hope behind hope that I could survive, but it still burned, painfully optimistic. Keep your expectations low, I told myself. You die tonight.
-X-
My heels clicked on the obsidian floor, my hands trembling as I held tight to the small leather bag. Iron burned through the seams of the thick cloth, and as terror tried to bring me down I gave an involuntary shake, like a silent sob. But if I admitted that I was crying, if I let myself process the tears running down my face, I would fade back into the girl who drifted behind Nephamael, and I could not do that.
After I wiped my hands across my cheeks—to make myself feel better, nothing more—I pushed open the door that led into the hollow hill. Faeries milled about as usual; but there was no dancing, no singing, some looked troubled but most simply delighted. The harsh crack of a whip sounded through the air, drawing most of the hungry eyes of the Unseelie court. I raised my attention to the direction it had came from and faltered.
Nephamael sat on the throne.
He lounged, completely at ease, cat-yellow eyes watching intently as Roibens back was ripped open by a whip, tipped in metal that was clearly iron from the fey blood that sizzled off the metal. Rivulets of the crimson stuff dribble down his back, and my stomach twisted. Gasping, I ran through the crowd, and was jolted into the reality that I had never been through the crowd without Nicnevin, or even Nephamael.
"You're that Seelie bird, aren't you?" an arm grabbed my wrist as I froze, and I turned to the most ugly face I'd ever seen. The features were reptilian but gray, like a lizard robbed of all of its color. Boils erupted all over his face, some of them oozing. He grinned grotesquely at me as I tried to wrench my hand out of its grip, but it was sturdy and I couldn't worm out of it.
"The Bright courtiers . . . they are so lovely," he said, leaning in close. I stumbled back, and he stepped forward so his grip on my arm slackened, and I tumbled to the ground. The skirts of my gown fluttered to above my knees, I shoved it down to my ankles quickly, my cheeks burning. But he saw and his eyes lighted, forked tongue flickering between where his lips would have been. I knew what would happen next, and I did not want it.
Someone behind me grabbed my waist and hauled me into standing, I was beginning to turn to thank them when their grip did not lessen.
"Pardon me," I said, fear spiking through my veins. "I need to go, now."
A boy with grasshopper legs and a bandage across one of his eyes watched me intently, his head cocked to one side like a bird. I struggled against the arms that held me, and he gave soft chirp, shaking his head. I twisted my neck to see who was keeping me still and paled.
Dulcamara smiled cruelly down at me, her lovely face contorted.
"Dulcamara," I gasped, my mind skipping back to Roibens room and what he tried to say about her. "Lady, please let me go." Her smile deepened.
"I'm afraid I'm a turncoat," she said smoothly. "A regular traitor. Now that Nephamael is king, he wonders if there is any use to you any longer. I am ordered to dispose of useless material."
The fear that pulsed through my veins was dulled slightly by the revelation—Nephamael was king. He had no Queen to answer to if one of her handmaidens was killed. Dulcamara smiled her too-lovely smile and reached for her sword. I took that moment to dash away, past the grasshopper boy, who Dulcamaras blade met instead of me. He cried out and dropped to the ground dead. I sent a silent prayer he wouldn't haunt me in the afterlife. I cut though the crowds, and one unforgivable fey grazed my arm with a knife, laughing at the blood it drew. He reminded me so much of Nephamael it was all I could do not to retch.
I finally found my way to the dais. Nephamael was speaking to Roiben, stroking his cheek, Roibens face was hating, impassive. The seamstress, Skillywidden, waddled about in her mangled garb, and I wondered what she was doing here. No time to think. Before I got close enough to be noticed, I slid the iron cap over my tooth and went over it with a heavy, thick glamour, so intense it was tangible.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the seamstress flicker into being as the pixie who loved Roiben, and my eyes widened as I saw the iron bits she cupped in her hand. It was no where near enough to kill him—they were small, and badly shaped, they would disintegrate almost immediately—iron took a toll on fey flesh as well, all but the finest grades of the metal burned like paper on fire when it touched faerie skin.
"Nephamael," I said softly, making my voice lovely with some glamour. I hated the stuff, but it was needed. His head swiveled over to me, and his eyes did not soften, no—they hardened. I faltered, but then he opened his arms to me, and I slid onto his lap, thorns cutting me lightly. The pain was nothing compared to the exhilaration that I was feeling. He died tonight. And it was all going to plan. I tipped my head on his chest, murmuring,
"I'm so glad you're king, now."
"As am I, pet." His voice was as hard as his eyes, and he studied me as intently as a bird would a worm.
"Is something amiss, sire?" I asked sweetly, he shook his head and some of the alertness died from his eyes. Though none of the calculation. He was probably wondering how he could kill me, right now. He had sent Dulcaamara to kill me, and was no doubt displeased the deed had not been done. His hands ran through my hair and I shuddered, not out of desire as he no doubt thought, but of anxiety and fear.
"I'm having Roiben kill himself. It will be quite entertaining, really. You should watch," he said. I gave him a queasy look, not entirely fake. It was important I didn't seem too venomous or too bloodthirsty, for then he'd think back to the days but a kiss scandalized me and wonder what had happened. Nephamael was no simpleton, and my plan was not foolproof, it was quite possible he would kill me before I had the pleasure to do him in.
"I don't know . . . may I order him to do something?" Nephamaels eyes lighted, something like hope that maybe I was growing into an Unseelie woman, and he nodded.
"But you must say it in my name, or else he is free to do whatever he wants. One unnamed order and he doesn't have to obey."
"Oh, yes, sire," I gave him a greedy grin which he returned in kind, and I turned to Roiben. My voice was clear and I hated myself for it. "Roiben, in the name of Nephamael, cut your arm."
Surprise bloomed in his eyes, but he was quick to cover it, soon it was only another mold of hate. He lifted his sword and cut his arm, he didn't even cry out,the blood dripping from his skin was the only give away that he was hurt. I heard the pixie masquerading as Skillywidden give a little cry of shock, and Nephamael glanced at her before looking back at me.
"Excellent." The curious, unfeeling quality had never fled from his eyes, nor did it when he pulled me in for a kiss. His fingers threaded through my hair and pulled the strands, I remembered my thought that he knew not the meaning of subtlety, of softness. His tongue snaked into my mouth and my heart sped up, I dropped the glamour over the tooth and iron seared my mouth, it came off easily with coaxing from my tongue, I prodded it towards his mouth.
He pulled away in disgust, and the iron bit clattered to the floor.
It was all over.
I had failed.
His lovely yellow eyes dawned realization and a similar hate for himself, he gave a yell of "WHORE!" and pushed me violently off of my perch on his seat.
Instead of falling harmlessly to the dais below the seat so Nephamael could stab me, I tumbled down, down, the countless feet to the packed dirt floor behind the dais, a bone cracked and I nearly stopped breathing. Nephamael's handsome, deep laughter resounded across the hall and soon everyone was giggling.
It was over. I had failed. I kept my eye shut as tears prickled behind my eyes. All of that planning, all of my hopes, my revenge, gone in that one pitch over the side of the dais. The world was fading quickly into black, a film going over my eyes. No—if I slept, I would die. I couldn't go up there to at least defy Nephamael one last time, so I wouldn't just be another event of the night, I—
The pixie ran full-speed at me from the other side of the dais, where everyone was. Tears ran down her lovely green face, and she clutched a silver knife. Blood was spattered on her hands and on her cheeks, where she had tried to wipe away the tears.
"You . . . you told me not to betray Roiben . . .." her voice trembled with anger and some deep sadness I could not name. "And yet you go up there and kiss that mother fucker like nothing else, and tell Roiben to cut himself, as well. He hit an artery, you idiot!" she sobbed, dropping to her knees next to my motionless body, hair spread around my head like a halo, a last appeal to God. "It was prolonged, faery skin must be tougher, but he bled to death because of you! You never cared! Now—he's—dead!" she punctuated every on of her last words with a sob.
"I—I'm so sorry, pixie—," this light spiderweb of a voice was all I had. I was dying. It was over.
"Kaye." she spat.
"Kaye," I corrected weakly. "Roiben was one—of my closest friends at the Seelie court. I had—I had to kill the man who did it to him. All of it. And that required Roiben to be hurt."
"I'll kill you!" she said roughly, lifting the knife above my breast, still shaking with sobs.
"Please, kill me," I said, now I was crying as well, and the sobs gave my voice a power that resided in my last words. "Pierce my heart so at least I don't die at his hand. But Kaye," my eyes slid shut reflexively, so much like Roibens. "Do all you can to kill him. Maybe I did this, maybe he did. But all I want you to do is, please . . . kill him."
"I will," the pixie whispered and plunged the knife deep into my heart.
--Fin--
