VILLAIN

Chapter 12

I gasped, bolting upright. "Max!" I screamed, frantically searching for him.

Someone shushed me, laying a calming hand on my head.

"Max is alright," the person – who turned out to be the fairy queen – assured me. "He is still facing his trials."

A weight lifted from my shoulders, and I lay back down onto the floor in relief. Then my brain caught up with her words, and I sat up again.

"Wait," I said carefully. "Are you saying that whole thing was...a dream?"

The fairy queen shook her head innocently. "No," she replied. "The trials are not simply dreams. Or at least, not as you think of dreams. They are imitations of reality, facilitated by the magical properties in the serum we gave you upon your entrance. You see, the trials are different for every person, longer for some, shorter for others. They are meant to assess your loyalties through a series of situations, to determine your worthiness."

"And was I worthy?" I asked, my tired mind still struggling to understand what she was saying.

The queen nodded. "Of course," she said happily. "The trials do not let you leave until you have successfully completed them."

A stone dropped in my stomach as I realized the implications of her answer. "So you mean the unworthy people never wake up?" I questioned, goosebumps running down my spine at the thought. "Is that why no one has ever seen one?"
Again the queen shook her head. "No one remains asleep forever. Eventually, they will make the right choice and awaken. That is why no one has ever seen an unworthy visitor. Everyone is judged worthy at some point. It just takes some longer than it takes others."

I shivered at the creepiness of it all. "But...why all this sleeping business? Why not just, I don't know..."

"Declare people worthy or unworthy just by looking at them?" the queen inquired, a note of bitterness in her otherwise silky voice. "Like your High King does? I am not such a fool as to think I would know to judge correctly every time. We fairies believe in giving all visitors, no matter how unsightly, a chance to prove themselves."

I furrowed my eyebrows, all of the pieces suddenly coming together. I'd shown my loyalty to my cause when I'd denied the chance of living with my family forever. I'd shown loyalty to the fairies by helping their queen escape. And I'd shown loyalty to Max by...not letting him die. Each time I'd been faced with a choice, a choice to either do the right thing, or to take the easy way out. And I'd chosen correctly.

The barest hint of pride filled my chest, and I couldn't deny how good it felt to know that, despite what the High King said, I was capable of doing good in the face of difficulty.

After a moment of thinking proudly on my success, I remembered something that the fairy queen had said earlier. "So...Max's trials were different than mine?" I clarified. "And he hasn't passed yet?"
The queen nodded. "No," she agreed. "Indeed he has not. But he will. Our friend Max is uncertain of his loyalties, but he will learn. He needs only time."

"How much time?" I demanded, knowing all too well the fairy perception of time was...vast.

The queen smiled at my concern, her lavender eyes kind as she said, "It should not be long yet – perhaps only a few minutes. Until then, let us get you cleaned up."

I nodded, standing up and following her to a large closet made of twigs, which burst with flower petal dresses of all colors, shapes, and sizes. I gasped at the sheer beauty of it all, registering for the first time where we must've been.

"Is this your quarters?" I asked, turning around and examining the rest of the room.

It was expansive, although simply decorated. Flowers bloomed all over the walls, creating a collage of color that took my breath away. A large bed sat against the petal wall, a canopy made of leaves towering over it. The comforter was weaved together out of more flowering vines, and a modest bedside table that appeared to be built of intertwined twigs and leaves, much like the rest of the furniture in the room, stood beside it. The floor was made up of soft leaves, and a flowering-vine door led into what looked to be a powder room.