A stranger sort of fairy.., p.19
A Stranger Sort of Fairy Tale, page 19
“Rixrian. Little ruler.”
“And how did they refer to you? As he or she?”
Viridian shook his head. “I hardly remember—I’ve been in Rus so long. I don’t really know our language anymore. I …”
He paused. “Before, we don’t have a sex. We’re not male or female or anything else really. I think the word’s fen. Females are fian and those … like me … are fion or fon, because they’re both. And children are fen, because they’re neither.”
Tarquin squeezed his hand. “Are you fian or fion or fon? We only recognize two in Arubio. We don’t really think of both or neither or anything in between.” He frowned. “So. We … only think in terms of he and she, and we’ve got nothing else. We don’t have a word for people like you. But I’m sure fey do.”
“I …”
“Whatever you want, Viridian. You don’t have to decide right now. We can reconsider your titles as well. Perhaps …”
“I … I need to think about it. To see … what feels right. To see what feels like … well, like me, I suppose.”
“Of course,” Tarquin said with a wave of his hand, lowering himself onto his side. He winced.
“I … hadn’t thought about it. Being raised in Rus … I thought there was only he and she too, and I …”
Tarquin met those big green eyes. “Our system wasn’t designed for you, and it can’t contain you.”
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Of course,” Tarquin said. “I can’t say I much understand it myself, but I can see this has you distraught. And I rather prefer you when you’re not a tangled mess of emotions.”
He touched his tongue to the tips of his fangs. “It’s not very appetizing.”
Viridian flushed brightly. “I think he is fine for now.”
“When you’ve decided what feels right, you’ll let me know.”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes. “Very good then. And, for the record, it’s not … that you appear male or that you prefer to wear dresses or anything of that sort. It’s not that at all.” He bit his lip. “If I’ve been resistant at all, it’s the politics behind it all. It’s nothing to do with you.”
There was a low rumble from deeper in the desert. The wind howled louder, rocking the tent. Tarquin gritted his teeth. “Douse the fire,” he said as he rose back to his feet and headed for the opening. “I believe we’re in for the worst of it.”
x
Tarquin loaned Viridian two of his cloaks, noting how cold the fey was. He wondered again how they survived the northern climes.
He himself was warm, which wasn’t unusual. The temperature was dropping, but he scarcely felt it. He clutched his teacup, listened to the wind howl. Viridian wrapped himself tightly in the cloaks, hugging himself for comfort or warmth, Tarquin couldn’t quite tell.
The fury of nature hushed them, and they watched the ripple along the bottom of the tent. They’d yet to see any gaps between the fabric and the dirt, so Tarquin wasn’t particularly worried.
Viridian turned his cup around in his hands. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Tarquin glanced up. “Fine. Why?”
The fey looked down into his drink. “You’re flushed. Very flushed. Are you sure—”
Viridian leaned over the remnants of the fire. He pressed a hand to Tarquin’s forehead. The incubus rolled open an eye.
“You’re running a fever. You’re too warm.”
“Don’t worry about me—go lie down. Get some sleep.”
Viridian dropped his hand. Tarquin closed his eyes. “I’m sure it will pass.”
“Are you in pain? When you were dragged earlier by the sarsok, you …”
“Not particularly.”
Viridian crawled around the fire pit. He sat heavily in the sand beside him, kicking up a little dust. “If you’re in pain …”
“Hmmm?”
“If you want to rest,” he said, “I … the dust, on my wings—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I ask you to drug me?”
Viridian pulled a face. “I could help.”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
The fey crawled back to his side of the pit, flopping down on his mat. He wrapped himself up again, turned over.
Tarquin snorted.
His eyes grew heavier. The wind was the only thing shifting, now screaming, now dwindling away to nothing.
He’d been outside the palace in a sandstorm only once before, when he was a child. He hardly remembered it now, but he’d been out for a riding lesson with Father. Mother would never have let him ride into the desert.
The howling wind, the specter of Father’s laughter sifted through his ears, still mocking him. He’d only been a boy. Of course he was scared.
And even now, he was laughing at him, from beyond the grave. Could hardly handle a sarsok, never mind the people of a nation! What was one little beast?
“Quin.”
His vision swam before him. “Quin!”
Did he have sand in his ears? What …
He lifted a hand, rolled his head to the side. “Uh … wha …”
His tongue was drier than the desert. He wondered if he’d swallowed a bucket of sand.
He wrapped his hand around something—flesh and bone. “Quin—”
He shook his head. “Stop—stop saying.”
He grabbed whatever he was holding, tugged on the person at the other end. The image still made no sense—a face without eyes, without features, a flash of red melding into the light above him.
He stared up at the light, his mouth falling open. It was so bright. Was it the sun? Was it a ghost, a flash of the future?
He dragged his arm over his eyes. The howling wind, now voices of the dead, and—
“Delirious. It looks as though he’s been bitten here—maybe a nightstalker,” someone said, and he opened his eyes again, rolling them toward the sound.
Julius. He was holding a lantern aloft, and it shone so bright. Were those faeries dancing inside it? He stared at them, miniature versions of Viridian with their wings all aflutter, holding hands and turning themselves about in a joyous circle, even as they burned up.
“Majesty—”
Pain burst through him, like shrapnel shooting up his spine. He clutched at his chest, felt the kiss of burlap against his hand. He looked helplessly at Julius.
“Majesty,” the captain said, leaning down, “can you hear me? Do you understand me?”
“Uhhh … yes, I …”
“You’re running a fever.”
“Yes, I—Viridian … said that. Earlier. And.” He lifted his hand, then dropped his head back in the sand. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing.
“You may have been bitten by a scorpion. I’m going to get the physician. Stay here.”
He opened his eyes again as the tent flap fell shut. Viridian was perched at the end of his mat, face pinched in concern.
The redhead crawled forward, unfolding his wings as he crept over Tarquin. The incubus looked up at them, watching them unfurl, cautiously, carefully, glittering, and—
“What are you doing?” he panted.
“Be quiet. You’re ill and you need medicine.”
“And—”
“I can at least make you sleep.”
Tarquin looked up at him, the hesitation in those green eyes, his own reflection staring back at him. “And,” the fey continued with a shuddering exhalation, “I can maybe … draw out the poison, by biting you—”
“No.”
Viridian started. “Why not—”
“Absolutely not. You’re not biting me.”
“You’ve been poisoned. We have to let blood—”
“Then get a goddamn leech, you’re not one—”
“Dammit, let me help you!” Viridian grabbed him by the lapels of his robe and shook him. The fey curled in on himself with a cry. “Just let me help you—”
Tarquin gazed up at the billowing top of the tent, watching the wind play havoc with it. Slowly, he drew himself back, placed a hand on Viridian’s forehead. “Firefly.”
Another pained cry.
“Viridian. Look at me.”
“Let me help you. Please, I’m so scared—” He choked on another little sob. He blinked tears from his eyes.
“That was an order, Viridian.” Tarquin smiled at him, slid his fingers beneath the redhead’s chin. “Firefly, I don’t want you in any danger. The physician will come in a moment. I’m sure he’ll know what to do, and …”
He sucked in a breath, letting his gaze drift up again. “And …”
“Quin?”
He couldn’t keep his eyes open. “I just—”
The world flickered between black and blinding color. He rolled onto his back, held up a finger, as though asking Viridian to hold his place for him.
“I … just …”
His eyes fell shut again. The darkness stayed this time.
What was he saying?
x
He woke with a cough and splutter, then groaned low, dragging a hand over his face. “Majesty,” Julius said.
He gritted his teeth against the headache, slowly opened his eyes. Strong sunshine poured into the tent. Beyond, he could see bright blue sky.
“How long have I been out?” he asked.
“Three days now,” Julius informed him. “The doctor believes most of the poison has left you.”
The captain glanced away. “We’ll have to hurry on to Karakorum, however. That was quite the setback, and we’ll be late if we don’t get underway.”
“Where’s Viridian?”
“Resting,” Julius replied curtly.
Tarquin frowned. The captain averted his eyes, shifted nervously. “The physician hadn’t brought any leeches with him, so …”
Tarquin tossed off the blankets and pushed to his feet. He swayed there, then sat down heavily.
“Majesty.”
Tarquin glowered at the proffered hand, then grudgingly took it. He squinted as they stepped into the sunlight. Julius guided him to one of the ladies’ tents.
The scene paused as he entered the smoky shelter. He lifted a hand over his nose, coughing. The scent of myrrh was heavy on the air.
Two women were on their knees on either side of Viridian. One was holding a bowl; the other was daubing furiously at the redhead’s brow. Viridian himself was groaning and panting by turns.
“M-majesty,” the women sputtered in almost unison, stumbling to their feet, then holding the skirts of their dusty dresses wide in curtsey to him. They dipped their capped heads low.
Viridian opened his eyes slowly.
“You little fool,” Tarquin snapped.
A smile lifted to the fey’s lips before he closed his eyes again. “It’s so good to see you up and about, milord.”
“How much did you take?” Tarquin clenched his fists.
“As much as the physician would allow,” the fey replied, then reached for the dish. The maid dropped back to her knees, held it for him.
Tarquin looked away. Viridian coughed a few more times, then slumped back against the pillows of the makeshift bed.
“I told you not to,” he said when he could meet the fey’s gaze again.
“I’m afraid I’m not very obedient.”
“No,” Tarquin murmured, “I told you to leave well enough alone.”
“I’m very glad you’re well,” the fey repeated, letting his head loll across the pillows.
“Majesty,” one of the attendants said, dipping into another curtsey. “If you please, Highness is under strict orders to rest—”
He turned away, glancing back at the fey. “I’ll inquire about your health later,” he offered.
Viridian made no reply. Tarquin left the tent, the flaps falling shut behind him. “Have the fey sent back to the palace,” he said sharply to Julius, who straightened up.
“Majesty?”
“Highness is in no fit state to travel, and I won’t tarry longer. We’re not far, and he’ll receive better care there.”
“Majesty, are you—”
“Do as I say!” Tarquin thundered, storming back into his own tent. “Pack everything immediately. You said it yourself. We don’t have any more time to waste.”
“Majesty, please reconsider. Perhaps a small party could stay behind and Highness could catch up to the main caravan when he’s recovered—”
“He’s not even supposed to be accompanying me upon this journey. He’s taken ill and he’s delaying us, after directly disobeying my orders, so he will be returned to the palace so he can’t cause further trouble.”
“With all due respect, Majesty, if it weren’t for the fey, you’d have been dead three days ago.”
Julius held his gaze. Tarquin huffed, then let the tent flaps fall shut. He crossed his arms and stepped closer to the captain, the sand shifting under his feet.
“Highness suggested you’d attempt to send him home. He was quite concerned about it, Majesty, only agreeing to remove the poison after he’d been granted amnesty—”
Tarquin gritted his teeth. “And I only want for him to be safe—I can’t risk the life of the heir of a foreign country, I can’t risk the life of my—”
He paused, catching Julius’s eye. “Of course,” the captain said, “Highness ought to be protected at all costs. We couldn’t possibly answer to the monarchiere should the heir apparent die in the middle of the desert.”
“No,” Tarquin said, “thank you for your understanding of this matter, captain.”
“Nonetheless,” Julius said, “I do believe Highness will take it upon himself to ride out again when he feels well.”
“He ought not to.”
“And yet I suspect he will. Which is why I suggest we leave a small party behind, that Highness might be encouraged to continue safely and reasonably.”
Tarquin snorted. “The most reasonable thing to do would be to go back to the palace.”
He ground his teeth, then disappeared back into the tent. “Make haste!” he called. “We’ve wasted enough time!”
14
High Altitudes
Birdsong drew Tarquin from the light sleep he’d achieved but an hour or two before dawn. He stepped out of the tent, ready to greet the ruler of all rulers. The sky was a medley of bright reds and burning pinks. Behind them lay the vast valley of Alizarina, lush and verdant. They were encamped nearly a thousand feet above it, and as Tarquin looked to the sunrise, he could see the treetops teeming with birds.
Today, they would reach the alpine village of Inchoa, which sat on the border with Karakorum. They would pass through the tiny village and then take the mountain pass into Karakese territory. From there, they would descend into the valley, before continuing their march toward the Western Ocean and Karakorum itself.
It had been two weeks since they’d left Arubio, and about a week and a half since they’d left Viridian in the desert.
“Ready?” Julius asked as he approached. Decorum between them had been stripped away over the course of the journey, and Tarquin didn’t mind.
“I suppose so. We’ll break camp and continue on.”
“Inchoa isn’t far. It was a shame we lost the light so early. We should have pressed on, but the pass becomes treacherous.”
“I shouldn’t like to lose anyone, so it was best we stopped. We’ll march without breakfast, then take a longer rest in the village. We won’t be out of the mountains today anyway.”
“I’ll send a runner ahead.”
“There’s no need.” The voice rang out like bells, and for a second, Tarquin thought it must have been Viridian.
The path to their west was blocked by a handful of armed guards on manticores. The guards’ armor gleamed in the morning light. Tarquin shaded his eyes, then frowned; the one was most certainly fey. Enormous green wings sprouted up from the creature’s back.
He frowned when the fey looked him in the eye. There was something vaguely familiar about the face, although he knew for fact it wasn’t Viridian.
“Greetings,” he said. “I am Tarquin, king of Arubio—”
“We know who you are,” the fey huffed, then dismounted the manticore. “We watched you all day yesterday, wending your way through the mountains.”
He glanced nervously at Julius. “Is this a welcoming party then?” He set his teeth.
“No. It’s a warning—get off our mountain. You’ve no business here, and as far as the people of Alizarina are concerned, you are no king of theirs.”
“Bold words, to speak on behalf of the people.”
“You do it all the time.”
“Unless you’re Princess Amethyst, I believe you’ve no right. What’s your name?”
“My name is Malachite, and the princess in the capital supports me speaking on her behalf.”
“Does she now?”
“Enough!” Malachite snapped. “State your purpose here—you’ve no business in Alizarina.”
“No. You’re quite correct there. My retinue and I are passing through on our way to Karakorum. We’ve been invited for the rites of spring.”
Malachite sneered. “Go back and pass another way. Alizarina won’t allow you to travel further in our territory.”
“We’re almost out,” Julius muttered.
“This is the easiest pass,” Tarquin argued. “We have women with us, beasts, some elderly pilgrims—surely you can’t mean to send me all the way around or through one of the more treacherous passes?”
The other two guards pointed their spears at him. “Go around,” Malachite said.
Julius had his sword at the ready. Tarquin lifted his hands. “We’re waiting for someone,” he said.
Malachite huffed. “Then send your messenger back for them.”
“Might we not wait for them here? I suspect they won’t be long.”
“Decamp immediately; I’m not going to fall for your tricks.”
“Really, it’s one small party—”
“Reinforcements, no doubt.”
“I highly doubt the crown prince of Fiddach has reinforcements with him.”
Malachite paused, frowning. “Of what crown prince do you speak? Fiddach has no heir—”
“Oh, they do indeed.”
“Lies! I have only sisters—”
