A Court of Blood and Feathers

23

Branwenn

I feel it. 

A spark somewhere down deep ignites. Something I haven't felt in a very long time.

I stare into Siencyn's emerald eyes, my mouth going dry as I try to form the words.

"What do you mean by this? How can you possibly have information on both my mother's killers and those who tortured me?"

Siencyn leans against one of the walls with rows of empty shelves, a grim expression on his face now. Very unlike the nervous and awkward one that he had been sporting most of his time in my presence. Less welcoming or comforting.

"Surely you figured it out. You're quite an intelligent fae, I'd expected you to have put two and two together."

A stillness passes through me and the air around us. He's right. His words were rattling enough to stir the voices, the memory, the one snippet that I've held onto for these past months in the back of my mind, unable to be rid of it.

The hissing voices flicker along the shell of my ear. My naked body involuntarily quivering and convulsing from pure fright and revulsion. The creatures in the dark cackles, dragging daggers along the insides of my wings as they whisper to me the beating and raping of maids at the Dawn Palace raid, half a century ago. How they had made the palace chef bend over with knives in her wings, pinning her to the preparation table as they --

I gasp, forcing myself out of the nightmarish memory. Siencyn watches me from the wall, concern flickering in his eyes briefly but seems to clamp down on whatever instincts he is experiencing.

Thankfully he doesn't say anything about my minor episode, allowing me to keep what dignity I have left.

"Yes, you are correct," I rasp out, taking small breaths, trying to bring air back into my lungs and feel a line of sweat dripping down my hairline. I brush it away, as I try to recover.

"Are you interested enough for me to continue?"

His eyes. I meet them and I'm almost taken back into yet another memory where I met those eyes 50 some years ago. When death looked me in the face and those arms had cradled me as a young fae. Those evergreen eyes have the same look in them now, that of care and concern. I shut that one down, quick.

"Yes."

He clears his throat and laces his fingers in front of his body. I noticed the flexing of his wings slightly, a movement only one with wings, or had, would understand and spot from years of sizing up opponents. It's a movement of preparation. Unconsciously I find my body going taunt, as if I myself am readying to fight.

"I'm afraid, that the rest of this information is only if you accept my deal."

If I were even in half the physical shape that I used to be, I would have charged him then and there for questioning. But I wasn't. And he had the information that would bring meaning back to my existence.

"What are the terms of our ... possible agreement?" I hedge.

He relaxes as he recognizes my acceptance of this situation, too easily. I don't have the will or strength to keep this fight up.

"Well first of all, when we make this deal, I want you to stand up." I flinch at the thought, my pride flickering but I swallow it down. I nod before putting down my mug. 

Slowly, I grasp each arm of the wooden chair and, with more difficulty then it should take, heave myself up and stand unsteadily. Siencyn goes to reach out to help me steady myself but I let out a hiss, eyes flashing to his face almost a foot above me. Not a familiar angle since I stand eye-level with most males.