Away with the Faeries

Chapter Twenty-four

 Who's in here? Alfred, my dead fish, may he rest in peace.

"It's me," I grumbled throwing the dark petals away from me; "Rayne Aubert."

"Rayne Aubert," they questioned, "I don't know of a Lady Aubert at this court."

I sank helplessly to the floor. I hadn't told anyone my name thinking it would give me an edge, that it just might save me. Now it seemed like it might be the thing to damn me. I laughed dryly, fate is a funny thing. Closing my eyes I ran my fingers over thoughts, ideas, anything.

"I am the human prisoner sent from Erde," I began again, trying to keep the desperation from my voice, "I am the Lady-in-Waiting to Princess Jinny."

Silence consumed the other side of the wall. Perhaps my savior has fled to get help. With a groan, my head fell heavily against the hidden wall. I was doomed.

"That's impossible," the person said again, their voice beginning to sound familiar, "my Lady-in-," they choked on the words, "died a week ago. She was poisoned."

All the color seeped from my face, throat tightened. Dead, poison, a week. I was going to be sick. Placing a trembling hand to my lips I recalled the way the tea had tasted. Almonds. It tasted of almonds. In my junior year of high school, my chemistry teacher told us about different types of poison, chemical and natural. He had a knack for true crime.

I shook my head, clearing the fog. Cyanide was one of these poisons, its most distinguishable feature being almonds. Cyanide tasted and smelt of the seed. My breath came uneasy as I recalled the lessons. Cyanide is lethal, I should be dead. My heart crept slowly up my throat, why am I not dead?

"Surprise," I said, lips trembling through the words, "I live."

The quick patter of feet filled the empty silence as the person began pacing back and forth beyond the door. "No," they declared pacing coming to a halt, "we buried you."

I realized then who I was speaking to and I wasn't sure if that made the situation better or not. Wobbling over vegetation to the blocked door I pressed my forehead against the rough surface, a sigh meeting my lips; "Jinny," I said a quiet plea to the words, "I don't know what's happening either. But I need you to help get me out of here so we can figure it out together. Please," I nearly begged, "you have to believe it's me."

Silence ragged against my ears once more. Cursed. The word flashed through my mind bitterly. Definitely cursed. Sagging against the doorframe I closed my eyes. They had buried me. I better have had one hell of a eulogy.

"If you really are Rayne," Jinny began, "then what is that Faeries favorite color?"

Such a stupid, childish question. A ridiculous question. So foolish that I couldn't help the way I smiled at it.

"Blue," I nearly sang. Blue like the sky, the water, the winter flora that hung with bowed heads from icy trees. Blue-like, I paused fingers drifting for my face, trailing over my eyes.

There was a small squeak from the other side, pulling me from my thoughts. Then the door began to open with an unearthly groan, vines snapping. Leaning my weight against the door I helped push and together we opened the barricaded entrance. Falling out of the dark room I stumbled into the frightened arms of Jinny.

"I thought I was going to die in there!"

Her face contorted in horror at the sight of me, golden eyes widening with fear; "You are already supposed to be dead," she stammered, tears brimming in her eyes as she echoed; "we buried you." Before I knew it she had pulled me in for a tight hug. After a moment she placed delicate hands on my stunned shoulders, leaning back, studying my face; "You are covered in dirt and smell like the cattle," she stated bluntly before dragging me off, likely to the nearest bathe.

"Wait," I dug heels into the ground before she could take us further, "what about the vines."

Jinny raised a questioning brow, "What vines?"

Turning back to the room I gestured at all the overgrown vines and shrubbery that was no longer there. My mouth fell agape, eyes widening in terror. They were there, I had touched them, smelt the aromatic buds that pooled on the floor. I wasn't insane. For the most part anyway.

Jinny patted my shoulder soothingly; "You have been through a lot," she cooed, "I'll get a bath ready for you."

With that, she walked off in search of a maid to help her prepare the tub. Turning back to the room I carefully inched my way inside. There wasn't a single vine or flower in sight. The pathetic excuse of a bed was made, the closet shut and curtains drawn. The small room sat at a standstill lost to time. Rays from the afternoon sun broke through into the room casting a gentle glow upon an envelope that lay inconspicuously on the windowsill. As if it had always been, as it belonged.

Tilting my head I moved forward grabbing the envelope and breaking the ebony wax seal. With heightened breath I unfolded the letter, catching sight of my name in the inked lettering.

Dear Lady Rayne, we can not continue to clean up after you. Please leave tonight with Leary Wilts.

Sincerely, The High Counsel of Anima.

Crumbling the letter I shoved it deep into my pocket where Leary's still was. Screw you, High Counsel, I don't need you to clean up after me. I wasn't going anywhere, not until I found out how to defeat King Otis and not without Marcel. Storming from the room I was quickly assaulted by a grief-stricken Nuea clinging to my face.

"You smell," Lana cried in relieved sobs. "I've missed your smell."

A soft smile crept onto my face, "And I have not missed your clinginess." A lie.

Lana fell back, holding herself before me on transparent wings that glinted in the sunlight. Placing hands on her hips her tear-streaked eyes searched me, "I'm going to pretend like I didn't hear that," she said with an indifferent sniff, "because I want to know how in the seven hells you're alive."

To be honest I'd like to know the same thing. But right now I was willing to count my blessings and call it a day. Lana stared at me expectantly and I thought of the crumbled letter in my pocket. Reaching for it my lips parted as I pulled out instead dark, dainty petals. The letter was gone. Quickly I fished around in my pocket for the other note. The one from Leary. But to my dismay, I came up with only more dark petals. Gone. They both were gone.

"What are those," Lana asked looking pointedly at the shaded corolla.

"A gift from Anima," I grumbled, tossing the petals to the ground.

Lana's dark face paled at the words. "Anima was here," she panicked, wide eyes searching the room.

"They left a note," I said, "I think it was them who resurrected me."

Her dark brows dipped in a frown, "Anima may be powerful," she said, "but they aren't capable of resurrection. That is very, very old and dark magic."

I told myself I was going to leave it be. Consider it a miracle and count my lucky stars I wasn't currently six feet under. But the words were falling from my lips before I knew what to do with them; "Then how am I alive?"