A Court of Weeds and Whispers

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Solys

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THE FAERIE CAUGHT MY KNIFE IN ONE SWIFT movement, took one look at the gleaming, harmless blade, and crumpled it to dust without lifting a finger. I watched the ashes fall to the floor and felt my heart sink into my stomach. He could do the same to me in a heartbeat, to my family in seconds- to Feyre, and I was to blame for it.

My insistence had gotten us killed. I pressured Feyre further into the woods yesterday, I missed my shot. Feyre killed the wolf. That was my fault. We wouldn't be here suffering for it if I hadn't been so selfish. It was my fault. My fault.

Dripping snow and malice onto the cottage floor, a furious beast stood taller than a horse, with the body of a lion, a wolf's head, and an elk's antlers. The gleam of his claws, sharp and dangerous, drew my eyes toward them. His paws were as large as a bear's, and as I saw them I felt the color drain from my cheeks-perfect claws for ripping apart a tiny, insignificant human like me.

Nesta had barrelled Elain against the wall, followed quickly by me as Feyre and I unconsciously seemed to fight our way in front of each other. No, this wasn't right. Feyre was my little sister- she was not meant to protect me. I had brought this wrath upon us the moment I suggested we press on through the woods, the moment I missed that shot with my arrow. I was not going to let her take the blame for it.

"MURDERERS!" the creature screamed, and this time, the force of his wrath alone sent me stumbling back a few steps. "FILTHY HUMAN MURDERERS! WHO KILLED HIM? WHICH ONE OF YOU MORTALS KILLED HIM?".

"We haven't killed anyone!" Nesta screeched in response, holding the wrist with the iron bracelet over her face as she angled herself to cover Elain, as if that small show of jewelry would be enough to chase away the intruder. As if it would somehow deter him from attacking. Instead, he took one calloused look at the bracelet and roared again.

"WHICH ONE OF YOU KILLED HIM?".

His bellow shook the cups and plates, shook the ground beneath me, and while my sisters cowered, begging to be spared for a crime they did not commit, my father insisted we had done no wrong.

"Killed who?" Feyre dared to ask, her voice faltering despite already knowing the answer. I recalled something then that I had failed to register until I realized why my sister thought she could play the fool. Faeries could not lie. I had known this since I was young, yet the simple fact escaped me. If they could not do so- could they tell if a human were to lie?

That was smart, and maybe it would save us after all.

"The wolf!" he snarled, "the large wolf with the silver pelt. The one who was brutally murdered by one of you!".

"We did no such thing!" I shouted, ensnaring his attention and diverting it away from my sisters. "How dare you enter my home and accuse us of such things! We would not touch one of your disgusting faerie kind if it saved our lives; why should we care to kill one?".

A lie. Of course it was a lie. I hadn't felt bad about the initial act of watching it die, or flaying it, or selling its hide for all that gold and silver at the market just today. My only remorse came because it had put my sister in danger. But I would do it if I had to kill a thousand of them just to save my sister.

And yet I was standing here, challenging him with my voice, not my knife, weapon, or body. I was not fighting tooth and claw like the animal I always thought I would. Instead, I stood before Feyre on trembling legs, lied to his face, and clung to the hope that it would save me. Save us.