Away with the Faeries

Chapter Twenty

 Princess Jinny seemed to be only a few years shy of my younger sister Carla. She had lovely ivory skin that resembled porcelain under the dark quilts she sat beneath. She asked me if I knew how to do the braids the Fae people were known for donning. I didn't really. But growing up with a younger sister taught me a thing or two about taming manes. We sat now on her grand feather bed, awkwardly chatting as I braided her sandy blonde hair. World's worst sleepover.

"What was it like living with the Fae," Jinny asked, hugging a pillow to her chest, "I have been told they're terrible and vicious creatures."

Her question caught me off guard, quickly I stumbled over my words for an answer. To the Bloed Royals, I was a Human capture of Erde, a prisoner of war, a peace offering. None of which was true. Over these last few months, I'd come to learn that the people of Erde were spirited, kind, and most of all real. Their troubles and worries were real. Birdy and her father who fought at some far way lines of a war. Lyra with her motherly smile. Mrs. Benett with her scolding nature. And Marcel, gods he was so real it hurt.

But I was a Human captured in the thick of war and the Fae were meant to terrify me; "Horribly viscous," I agreed topping off her braid; the work was patchy at best and Jinny's silky hair fell not even moments later from its twisted encampment. I sighed.

Hoping on the bed she spun to face me; "You're lying," she said, pink lips drawn in a smirk.

"Am not," I lied, throwing my gaze from her golden one.

Jinny grew silent a moment, gently toying with her hair; "I live in a home full of liars," she said softly, "you are not a very good one. I also live surrounded by people full of malice and I don't believe you truly think the Fae are as cruel."

Damn, she got all that out of two words. That equally impressed and terrified me; "You'll make an excellent queen someday Princess Jinny."

A look crossed her eyes; "I will never be queen," she clarified, "my brother is in line to claim the Bloed throne."

"Semantics," I mumbled with a dismissive wave of my hand.

Jinny raised a questioning brow before breaking into a fit of giggles, she paused pressing a thoughtful finger to her chin; "I do have a friend, a sister only in name, who is very educated in the way of poison. Legend says she is the mother of all venom and her skin is deadly to the touch," Jinny paused for a moment as if she were seriously considering the option; "and she has never been fond of my brother."

Shaking her head clear of thoughts Jinny turned to me bright-eyed and beaming. She was like a little ray of deadly sunshine and I was fucking terrified.

"I saw how you looked at that Fae warrior," she continued normally as if she hadn't just been plotting the murder of her brother a moment prior. A slight blush tinted her cheeks as if we were schoolgirls whispering about boys; "I was there, I saw how he looked at you too. It's how people in love but don't realize it looks."

"Like complete idiots," I grumbled growing uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. How could I say I was in love with someone I hardly knew? Yes, I was worried about him as a concerned friend might be. How could I not? The last I saw of him he was chained up and beaten.

"Do you love him," Jinny asked practically bouncing.

I watched her a moment before shaking my head; "No I-." But I couldn't finish the sentence. The words wouldn't come. Why wouldn't they come? I haven't loved anyone in a long time. The idea seemed alien to me. And Marcel, something stirred within me at the thought. We had known each other for just over a month. How can I love someone I hardly know?

"I can't love him," I continued, "I don't even know his favorite color."

Jinny puckered her lips, golden eyes searching. Then she stood and without warning grabbed my hand, pulling me from the bead and towards the door.

"Where are we going," I asked flustered, stumbling to keep up with her. It was the middle of the night.

"To find out that Faery's favorite color," she said matter-of-factly, "I can give you two one hour."

Eyes wide I halted in the middle of the room, mouth agape; "This is a trick," I said, "Why would you do that?"

Jinny released me, placing her hands on her hips the gesture reminding me all too much of a certain Nuea. "I am not my family," she stated, nose scrunching at the idea, "I think this entire war is petty and stupid. And I feel sorry for all the hurt my father has caused. If seeing your Fae will bring you even a little peace then that's what we're doing." She then turned her gaze to the marble floor, adding quietly to herself; "and if he dies at least he'll go knowing he was loved. That's more than most."

I watched the young girl for a moment. Maybe Princess Jinny wasn't all that bad. Was it possible for her to be the black sheep in a herd of homicidal lunatics?

Jinny held out her hand for me once more; "We don't have to go," she said, "but if we are you might want to bring a few washcloths. He'll be sore sight."

Heading Jinny's advice I brought a few rags as we quickly descended the halls of the warmly lit castle. I had to give it to the Bloed royals, that had it down when it came to grandeur and decor. The walls seemed alive, shimmering with gold, and draped in lush flora.

Jinny must have caught sight of my strange expression at the plants, leaning over she whispered; "My father is fond of gardens. There's not an inch of the castle not covered in some sort of greenery."

Nodding we carried on, our feet bringing us quicker into the damp dungeons. The stench of urine and decay burned the air, watering my eyes as we trekked further into the dark cellars. Yet even here, in a place that reeked of death did the flowers grow. Creeping in blossoms of orange and pink up the wall.

Jinny turned to face me face flushed at the harsh smell; "Remember," she said, "you have an hour."

Placing a quick peck on my cheek she whispered wishes of luck in my ear before vanishing into the shadows of the dungeon. Silently praying that this wasn't all some set up I bent the corner and came to a stop before a large stone wall with a single iron door left ajar.