Away with the Faeries

Chapter Ten

"You want to?" Marcel's eyes narrowed. "Do you understand where it is you're going?"

Swallowing the lump in my throat I nodded. This was going to be easy, like swimming. Only these waters were infested by power-hunger sharks.

Plastering on my cheekiest smile I turned back to the awaiting stares before me; "How hard can it be," I laughed.

The King's jaw slackened, he shot Marcel an accusing look, the Queen however sat between the two donning an ear-splitting grin.

"You should have mentioned the girl is suicidal," he roared, running skeletal fingers through knotted hair.

"Rowan," hushed the Queen from beside him, her tone a low warning.

"No, Aera," he snapped back his brow hard and the stress lines on his face seeming to carve deeper with each passing second, "The last thing we need is to send another soldier over to Bloed only for them to never return."

I swallowed hard; how reassuring.

Aera motioned towards me her smile only widening; "I believe this time will be different, after all, she is not like the others."

A humorless laugh escaped me as I began toying with the rich velvet of my cloak. "Others," I mumbled curiously. I shot Marcel a look, I wasn't aware there were others.

Aera nodded, her face melting into a motherly look; "We have sent three other spies," she began, "The first one was sent in for intel but he never returned." She picked up a rose that wilted slowly in a vase at the center of the table, carefully she plucked one frayed petal from it. Aera waved the darkened petal, a hint of a smile playing at her lips, "They sent us his head a day later."

She dropped the petal and watched as it danced with uncanny grace to the table. Another petal was plucked lightly from its stem, "After that kind gift I couldn't help but feel obliged to return the favor. This one did not last very long at all," she tsk-ed, "We received his blade a week later covered in blood," she spoke softly letting the petal fall. "Then there was Sir Devon." Pluck. "It's been over a month since he left and still no word."

In silent horror, I watched as the dainty petal escaped her fingers and landed softly on the tabletop beside its brothers. Aera smiled warmly at me, gently tilting her nose to the flower, the decayed petals brushed her lips.

"You won't fail me, will you Rayne?"

Aera reminded me of someone, the way she held herself so pridefully and manipulated a discussion to her advantage. Her words crawled under my skin. Squinting my eyes as I stared at the women before me, pearls, I thought, and bright red lipstick. How could I have not seen it before, Aera look like an exact copy of my mother down to the tiny gold cuff that clipped the top of her ear. Her dark ebony hair spilled over her shoulders, pooling in her lap as glassy blue eyes lazily brushed my face.

"Wouldn't dream of it," I muttered returning her smile.

A nightmare, I was in a horrible nightmare where my mother was queen.

"I like this one," she grinned, her gaze never leaving my own. Aera's thin fingers wrapped around another petal, the wilting flora crumpling at her touch. With a tug, she ripped the petal from the stem, but instead of dropping it besides the fallen she held it tight within the palm of her hand. A sickening crunch filled the silenced room;

"Wouldn't you agree that flowers are the loveliest thing," Aera asked before gently blowing away the crushed petal upon her hand; "I'll be off now, there's letters to be written and wars to be won. After all, we have found our pretty little peace offering." With that she stood, hips swaying as she made her way from the room.

Marcel stirred from beside me. "Peace offering?" His question filled the air as the sweeping doors shut behind Aera.

Rowan nodded his head; "Bloed wouldn't think much of it, we have tried to assassinate King Otis twice now. A plea for forgiveness wouldn't come off as unordinary."

"So, they'll think I'm what? A plea for mercy?"

"Correct," he said causing my stomach to knot. "But Rayne," his voice grew lower, warning etched itself into his words. "King Otis is not a person you want to underestimate, nor any of those royals."

Baffled my lips fell agape, I slumped back into my chair. Who were these people? An image of a gruesome beast came to mind, towering and spewing a threatening venom. Its dead eyes bore heavily into my mind sending a shiver up my spine. Maybe I wasn't the best for this job. I was no spy, I was a damned software engineer who couldn't keep a job.

"Do you still wish to do this," Marcel asked softly as if scared I would spook and tuck tail.

"Absolutely," I said tilting my chin higher, I was going to do this and succeed. Blame it on the stubbornness but I'll be damned if I turned face now. Act first think later, right?

"Wonderful," Rowan murmured, "You have brought me a naïve child, not a warrior."

"I have brought you a warrior, and she is no child," Marcel retorted, "Rayne?"

I was still very much a child. Yes, I had recently turned twenty-five, graduated from University, and rented an apartment. But I also refused to give up on cartoons and animal chicken nuggets. I still believed in mermaids, dragons, and unicorns; even more so now. I couldn't parallel park to save my life, or keep a paying job for that matter. I was evicted from my home, sentencing me to take the walk of shame back to my family. When faced with difficult decisions I make the wrong ones. I was a child in every aspect that mattered. I was a little girl who never learned how to stop running with sticks and talking to imaginary friends. Picking roughly at my fingers I turned my gaze downward.

"Rayne what is your age," King Rowan questioned.

I scoffed rolling my head to meet the King's firm gaze. "Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to ask a lady that?"

Marcel face played at a hint of a grin. "I thought you said you were no lady," he quirked his uninjured eyebrow, checkmate.

"I'm twenty-five," I surrendered throwing my hands in the air.

"Twenty-five," Marcel repeated the shock evident in his voice.

"Two, five. Twenty-five."

"I know what twenty-five means, thank you for the clarification," Marcel sighed before turning to the King beside him.

Rowan shrugged; "Humans don't live long and they breed like damned rodents to make up for it. I believe she is considered an adult by Human practice."

"Human practice," I cringed. These people were freaking me out. Considered adult by Human practices? If that's not a sentence starter straight out of Psychopath 101 then I don't know what is. Waving a finger between the King and the strangely handsome man I met in the forest, I quirked a brow.

"How old are you?"

Marcel tilted his head at me before speaking as one would to a child; "We are Fae Rayne and thus we stop aging after our hundredth year."

Oh, cool. "Like a vampire," I said ecstatically. Rowan and Marcel shared a silent look of confusion, worry drawn in bold across their faces. Of course, they'd have tiny flying people but not vampires. "Oh, don't tell me you're team Jacob," I groaned, shoulders falling.

Rowan and Marcel shared mirrored looks of confusion.

"Never mind," I said, waving a dismissive hand, "Now answer the question. How old are you?"