The city erupted into a panic once the heads started appearing.
One per day, showing up in a different Fae's home in Azure each time. Of course, the first one appeared in the throne room of the castle. Triana had immediately issued an alarm, and Tarin had come running.
Running to see Iliss' decapitated head upon Serena's throne.
Iliss had warned him of the Infernals' plan. One Fae hostage killed per day, starting with her. And he had failed to find them. He had been so busy searching for Serena at the traitor Ambrose's behest that he had lost interest in finding the hostages, though he did remember that their trail had dissolved into nothing once he broke into that clearing. He was not sure he would have found them even if he had stayed for longer.
He grieved Iliss' murder in the way only he could: by fighting. Each man he brought down provided another small outlet for his rage; so, as long as he kept going, he could distract himself from his internal fury for a time. However, once families of the hostages began to show up at the castle each day, crying over finding the head of their loved one on their beds, in their stove pots, lying on their lawns, he realized that just fighting his fellow warriors was not going to be enough. The Infernals thought that they were winning this war, that they were on top of the game. They had no idea what they were going to unleash.
He had never particularly liked Iliss. He knew that most people around the castle had flat-out hated her. She had been haughty, high-maintenance, arrogant, and boring. She looked down her nose at anyone who did anything she was not fond of; maids who cleaned her room, women who went out to fight, men who did not adore her. She had annoyed Tarin to no end with her infatuation. She had always just seemed to expect that he would want her, seeing as she saw herself as being of such a higher status than him.
However, for all her outward superiority, he knew that Iliss was much more fragile inside than what she tried to show the world. It was an act. She looked down on those who fought because she did not know how to. She looked down on maids because at least they knew what their place was - at least they were accepted in the castle. She wanted men to adore her because that was all the attention she could receive, and nobody can live without some sort of attention from others. She had been weak, but still, she had mustered up the courage to save his life when Alcern snuck in to attack him. She had even risked leaving the castle keep to help him bring the others back to safety, and came back for him later, though she failed in finding him.
It was his fault that she was dead now. His fault, just as it was his fault that Serena was not speaking to anybody.
He had tried so many times to get her talking, but all he got were those blank stares, as if she did not even recognize him, or did not understand his words. He had tried once to reach for her, but quickly learned not to try so again. She had flinched so hard that he drew back his hand urgently, thinking that perhaps he had hurt her, though he had not yet touched her skin. When he tried asking what was wrong again, she simply shut the door on him. He did not think she did it out of spite or anger; she had not even seemed aware that she was doing it, as if sleepwalking.
He headed up to her room again now. Though he had had no success in communicating with her in the four days since Ambrose's attack, that was not enough to get him to stop trying. As long as the suns rose and set in the sky, he would persevere. He would not lose her. Not again.
He knocked, but there was no answer. That was typical now.
He waited, knowing that the door would soon open anyway, though Serena would not be the one with her hand on the knob. And, as usual, he was admitted by Stacia, the princess' lady's maid, and one of Cade's many little siblings. Seeing her made Tarin think of Cade, though Stacia did not look all that much like him, and certainly did not seem to resemble him in personality, from what Tarin could tell. Tarin had refused to show Cade any gratitude for saving the princess the other day; it was not that he was ungrateful, it was just the thought of making that brat even more pleased with himself than he already was that was repulsive to him. Besides, Triana had already thanked him enough for the both of them.
Tarin's eyes found her immediately, of course. She was in front of her standing mirror, her arms raised above her head as her fingers worked to braid her hair back. She seemed intently focused on the task at the same time that she seemed completely separate from it, as if she was imagining herself somewhere else entirely. She did not glance over at him as he walked in; in fact, he did not even think she noticed anybody had entered.
"She's been working on her hair for an hour already, my Lord," Stacia whispered to him conspiratorily. "I've offered to do it for her three times now, but she doesn't even respond to me."
Tarin swallowed down the horrid feelings her words brought to the surface. "You can go, Stacia. Thank you."
The maid curtseyed to him and exited the room. Once the door was closed behind her, Tarin once again fixed his gaze on the princess, who still had not looked away from her pale reflection. Not only was she looking pallid, but Tarin could tell just at a glance that she had begun to lose weight already, and for such a noticeable change to have occurred in such a short period of time, he knew that she was suffering through a lot more than just avoidance of food - though she certainly had not been eating, either.
"Princess," he said softly, pleadingly. Just a head turn, a word, a smile. A single sparkle in her eyes. Any sign of life. That was all he wanted from her.
He got none of it. Her fingers worked mechanically, though slower than he had ever seen a person move before. She took her sweet time in gathering pieces of her hair in between two of her fingers before pulling those to the other side of her head, and then she had to go through the whole gathering process again.
"Princess, please talk to me. You know that I'll listen to you. I want to help you."
Not even a blink. He could not remember the last time he saw her blink.
"Princess, you're scaring me," he confessed. "I would do anything for you, to keep you happy, to keep you safe. But I don't know what that requires right now. I don't know what to do, and I just wish you would tell me."
When she failed to answer once more, his gaze flickered over to the window, over which the curtains had been drawn. He could not remember a time when Serena had blotted out the sunlight from her room. She had always loved the way the sunspots danced around the marble, the way the rays refracted off her mirror and sometimes created little rainbows in the air. She had never been a fan of darkness, and yet now she was living in it.
"I just want to go outside!" she complained, hopping up and down as if pretending the floor was lava.
"So do I, Princess," he responded, smiling down at her. "Do you think I like being stuck in this musty old castle all day? I would much rather be out in the suns, watching the clouds roll by. You know that."
"Then let's GO!" Serena commanded, grabbing his hand and pulling it with all of her six-year-old might.
"We can't, Princess. You have guests coming, and your mother told me not to allow your dress to get dirty. She wants you to look your very best tonight; the image of a beautiful little princess."
Serena pouted, sticking her bottom lip out so far that Tarin burst out laughing.
"Okay, okay," he acquiesced. "I have an idea for a fun game."
"What game? What game?" Serena wondered, beginning to jump in circles around him once more. She was a big fan of games; just the word 'game' was enough incentive to make her do just about anything. Tarin often played games with her like, 'let's see who can eat their beans the fastest,' and 'let's see who can answer the most questions in lessons,' which he often sat in on, because she was better at concentrating when he was nearby. He understood that feeling; whenever they were separated, she inhabited a portion of his mind that he could not silence.
"It's so musty and dark in here," he commented, looking around dramatically, bending over and peering through the lens he formed from two of his fingers. "I think we should see which one of us can open more windows before it's time for you to greet your guests."
"I'm gonna win!" she cried out immediately, and took off without another word. He grinned as he watched her go, and chuckled when she nearly ran into Joyse, who was carrying a layered cake towards the dining room. Tarin took it from her with a smile and quick apology that she waved away instantly; she was used to it, she insisted, and besides, she adored the girl.
Tarin pulled open the dining room curtains while he was inside, letting in the light that Triana had not been as fond of after Agros' untimely (obviously) death. Tarin had never questioned the shadows before, but now that she was receiving a noble family, it seemed fitting that the carpets soaked in some sunlight.
When he headed up to the second floor, he caught Serena's eye as she left one of the guest rooms. She broke into a fit of giggles that made him want to scoop her up and tickle her ribs to keep them going, but she was gone like a flash to tug more curtains open.
By the time Triana called for Serena to greet her guests, the castle was awash with the colors of sunset that had been absent from the halls for too long. Serena basked in the light like she was composed of the stuff herself, though Triana did not look nearly as happy upon seeing Serena all sweaty, with her updo in disarray. She scowled in Tarin's direction, but he merely shrugged her way helplessly. She knew that he could not deny Serena her happiness, no matter the cost of propriety. Besides, he believed that he had done the whole castle a service today. Everyone's spirits had seemed to lift after the shadows latched to their very souls had been exorcised.
"I want to go to the lake."
Tarin combed a hand through his hair and turned towards Serena in shock. She had spoken. She was still staring at her reflection, but she must have known that someone was standing there, at least, seeing as she had finally spoken.
"Of course, Princess. I can take you there right now--"
"I want one of the twins to take me," she interrupted him.
The ecstatic feeling he had gotten from his daydream and her voice combined crashed instantly. "Princess, please--"
"I want to bathe there. You can't be there for that. I'll take one of the twins."
There were a million things Tarin wanted to say, argue, scream. However, he shoved them all down his throat and simply said: "Of course, Princess. Though I'm going to send them both with you. Just for protection."
Something about his words gave her the impetus to finish the rest of her braid very fast; her fingers were nearly a blur as she tugged her hair into the proper places and finished it off with a ribbon.
Then: "I still want to go home," she stated. She turned her head towards him, and her eyes were so empty that he thought he could almost see through them. There was nothing, nothing of the young woman they belonged to in them. "And I don't want to talk to you."
___________________
Tarin waited until she was gone before he started breaking things.
He knew that breaking her possessions was a poor way to solve this problem. However, there was too much happening inside of him for him to hold in any longer. His magic burst from him in pulses, and each pulse brought about the ruin of one or more of Serena's things.
The mirror cracked, the dresser fell over, the diamonds over her bed shattered. Her perfume bottles burst one by one, and her jewelry fell onto the floor in heaps of silver, gold, and gems. He thought his magic had finished after that, and walked forward to begin picking up her jewels when something that sounded like glass broke behind him. He straightened and, curious, moved towards her bed to investigate.
There were dandelions on the ground, surrounded by millions of little shards of glass. He had noticed the dandelions the last few times he had been in here, and knew that they were a semi-recent addition, though could not pinpoint a date that they had appeared. If he could, he might have been able to come up with a reason why she had chosen to decorate with them. Perhaps it had been a day that they had gotten along particularly well, and she wanted to celebrate it. Perhaps she had been walking through the gardens, and the weeds had reminded her of him in a good enough way that she wanted them by her bedside. Or perhaps the choice had had nothing to do with him at all, and he was just indulging himself with selfish fantasies.
Then he noticed the folded-up piece of parchment.
He knew that he had to find the twins and get them to tag along with the princess before she wandered off on her own. He knew that he should be trailing Serena himself while she was in this state, just to make sure that she did not do something reckless. However, he could see the ink of script through the parchment, and his curiosity reached out for it as surely as his hand did.
He pulled the folds of the parchment apart gingerly, not wanting to rip it. Upon opening it to its full size, Tarin discovered that not only was it a note, but it was a note addressed to him.
Tarin,
Don't be mad at Will. I can be quite assertive when I want to be, and I made him come with me. I did it for you, of course; I figured that you would just be that much angrier if I went off on my own.
Don't blame Stacia, either. I tricked her; it isn't her fault.
I know that if you're reading this, you're probably freaking out. I hate to make you mad at me, but you're the only one who can understand why I had to go after you, Tarin. You know the feeling.
And that was it. He turned over the parchment frantically, searching for more of the princess' words - because clearly this was her voice, though he was just now realizing he had not seen her handwriting since she came back to the Realm. Even by just passing his fingers along the paper, he could sense her lingering magic, the emotion that she had departed into the note.
But then, what did it mean? You're the only one who can understand why I had to go after you... Don't be mad at Will... I made him come with me. That sounded like Ambrose's account of the night that he snuck into the forest, when he said that the princess went to his house and brought him along to go after Tarin. She had been worried about Tarin's safety, Ambrose said, and would have gone alone even if Ambrose had refused to accompany her.
Tarin fingered the corner of the note. Her script told him she had gone after him, just as Ambrose had told him happened. That account sure sounded like his princess; determined, unrelenting, with a degree of foolishness that she reached through her affection for others. And Tarin had believed Ambrose, too; the story had fit in his mind, though he had not enjoyed hearing it. But where that fell in the line of events, he could not discern. She had physically told him that she had remained in Azure. Pevana had since mentioned the visit that she and the princess had had that day. Serena had told Holly what had occurred with Ambrose. Cade had seen her attack him while he was unconscious. How could it be that she had lied? Why would she have? It did not make any sense.
But then... what was the explanation behind this note?
Tarin shoved it into his pocket and rapidly repaired everything in the room with his magic. He even stuck a new bunch of dandelions in the glass by her bed, fighting back the smile they sought to bring to his face. Something strange was going on in the castle, and with a war just outside the city's gates, he had to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible.
_______________________
"Does the queen know of this indiscretion on your parts? Perhaps I should go and inform her of your traitorous natures myself."
Vice just snorted with derision. This little lord was a brat; she did not at all blame the general for despising him. Vex had her arms crossed over her chest, but she met her eyes briefly, and Vice saw the same feelings mirrored there. Neither of them could imagine this boy acting valiantly to help somebody else, yet that was still what Cade was claiming to have done.
"We aren't the traitors here," she replied calmly. She sensed Vex's eyes begin to roam around the boy's room, most likely searching for anything out of the ordinary, anything that could point to Ambrose's innocence, or at least just prove that Cade was lying.
"Oh-ho," Cade chuckled. He sounded as pompous as ever. "You're calling me a traitor now? That's rich. What have I done, oh powerful Wolves? Is this because your master dislikes me?"
Vice's hand shot out before her mind caught up, and Cade choked out a curse when her extended fingers made contact with his throat, knocking the breath out of him.
"You have some hand in what happened to Ambrose," Vice replied, her voice hard and merciless.
"Ambrose?" Cade spat. "The man who attacked the princess? Goodness, I didn't realize you all cared so little about what happened to her. Your master would be interested to--"
Another strike, and this time Cade groaned, his head tossed to one side.
"But he didn't attack the princess, did he, Cade?" Vice demanded, and she felt her twin tense behind her, prepared for a fight if it should come. "You made all of that up."
There was a brief silence. Then: "Are you insane?"
"Hardly," Vice answered, and the corners of her violet lips lifted up in a smirk. "Just trying to get to the truth is all. And I don't believe that what you and the princess told everyone is it."
"I have nothing to tell you," Cade insisted in a hiss. "You can't threaten to kill me; you can't even hurt me. I told the queen and the Curer what I witnessed, just as I told you, Vice. I saved your princess from a madman. You owe me infinite gratitude, and now, a stellar apology."
Vice opened her mouth to reply, but Vex suddenly inhaled sharply, and Vice spun around to look at her.
"The general is coming this way," she alerted. "Less than a minute."
Vice cursed under her breath and pulled her sword from her sheath. She brought the point up until it was poking the skin under Cade's chin. "Be silent, or I'll push this in deeper," she warned, keeping her voice soft.
Cade just scoffed at her, looking pleased with himself for whatever reason. Vice imagined there had never been a person more in love with themselves. "You won't do it. I'm not an idiot, Vice. You would be executed for such an act."
Her eyes narrowed, and she was going to retort that it might even be worth it when she was abruptly shoved aside. She blinked with surprise and twisted back around to see her twin's stormy expression and Cade's answering petrified one. He had finally fallen silent, and when Vice glanced down... down... down... she realized why.
She had to hold back her laugh.
"Do not speak, or I will poke it through. Do you understand?" Vex asked swiftly, hushedly. Cade nodded, his eyes fixed on the point of her sword, all the color drained from his cheeks.
The three of them listened intently to the nearly soundless passage of the general as he made his way down the hallway. He did not pause in front of Cade's room, and he moved rather quickly, but they still did not dare to move for another full minute. Even when Vice unfroze, however, Vex did not sheath her sword.
"If I find out that you have lied to us, my Lord, I will neuter you like a hound."
Cade was still pale, but her words made his shoulders straighten indignantly. "I could get you both killed with just a word," he hissed.
Vex just smiled.
The little lord's eyes began to bug out of his head, and his cheeks blew up as if he was incapable of letting his breath loose. Vex watched him with utter disinterest in her eyes, and Vice was impressed by the lack of strain in her face. She hoped she looked that way when taking control of somebody's body.
Cade's hands moved, and his eyes were crazed as they followed the former up, up... up to his throat, which they wrapped themselves around without much direction. Cade's gaze snapped back to Vex, who simply raised an eyebrow at him in response. Vice was the only one who noticed the slight tightening of her twin's fingers into fists, which prompted the subsequent tightening of Cade's grip around his own throat - and she only noticed because she had felt herself do it more than once.
"You can go ahead and try, if you're brave enough, Lord Cade," Vex whispered, her voice almost sickeningly sweet. "But I can guarantee you that I'm the better killer."
________________________
Xyris had come to the tavern alone, hoping to maybe win some card games against the looped inhabitants of the place. He had kept his eye on the particularly heavy loops; the men who ordered drink after drink, though they clearly did not have the money to pay for them all. The concoctions went shooting down their throats, one after another, and Xyris had no idea, after a while, how they all managed to stay down.
It was because he had remained coherent that he noticed the woman sit down on a barstool and flick a shimmering golden coin over to the barmaster. The bearded man - Citron, Xyris thought he had heard someone call him earlier - caught it and rubbed his thumb over it, obviously doubting its authenticity. There were probably not many people who came to his tavern with gold in their pockets.
When he glanced back at the woman with shock in his expression, Xyris stopped paying attention to anybody else in the bar. The woman said something to Citron, and the latter nodded, still looking astonished at his good fortune. He pocketed the coin and turned to pour something into a glass. When he handed it to the woman, Xyris could tell that it was fairy juice; the most potent kind, from the looks of it. The brighter the fairy drink, the more effort had gone into it to make the drinker of it as looped as looped could be.
The woman lifted the glass to her nose and smiled - or at least, Xyris thought that she did. He was at a good angle and had a fine view of her profile, but the hood of her cloak still obstructed part of her face and cast the rest into shadows. He could see enough to tell that she was lovely, though - another factor of her appearance in the tavern that intrigued Xyris, as apparently wealthy, good-looking women did not tend to wander into lowly taverns. And if they ever did, Xyris imagined that they did not look as unworried as this woman seemed to be.
She drained the vivid pink liquid in two gulps, then placed her glass down gently and gestured for Citron to fill it again. He did so, probably still thinking about the gold coin in his possession, and how that was a lot more important than worrying about how much this woman might order.
However, Xyris soon began to worry. He knew that a gold coin could buy a lot of fairy juice, and a lot of fairy juice did not tend to be a good thing. The woman did not seem to agree with him, though; she drained each glass dutifully before asking Citron to refill it, and who was Citron to deny her, after she had already paid him?
After five glasses, the woman laughed at something - possibly some kind of hallucination, since Xyris knew that enough fairy juice could do that to someone - and threw her head back far enough that her hood fell off. Her thick braid of gleaming raven hair was revealed then, and Xyris was not the only one who noticed.
Men began to whisper and nudge their friends, pointing covertly towards the bar, where the woman drained yet another glass of brilliantly pink fairy concoction. Even after the glass left her lips, the apple-red of them remained glossy and intact. Xyris could not even see a smudge on the rim of the glass.
Perhaps the fairy juice had told her that he was watching, because it was only then, after the sixth cup, that the woman turned to meet his eyes. She smiled brightly at him, and he finally caught a good glimpse of her eyes; a sparkling, fantastic blue that urged him to go over and talk to her.
He might have, if someone did not beat him there. A large, dirty, muscled man sat down on the stool beside her and offered her a smarmy smile. The woman turned away from Xyris, presumably to address the newcomer, and immediately picked up the seventh glass of fairy juice as it was offered to her by Citron.
The man acted quickly. If Xyris was not so disgusted, he would have been impressed. The man hopped off his stool and said something to the woman, who slowly slid off of her own seat and immediately stumbled upon landing. The man caught her in his arms and ran a finger down her cheek. Xyris saw the woman cringe, but her eyes could not seem to focus on even the man right in front of her.
Xyris did not allow it to go any further. He pushed away from his table and headed for the woman - whom, now that he was even closer, he decided was probably one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.
"Come on, man. Let her go. She's looped," Xyris urged, gesturing towards the woman, who was now swaying back and forth as if deciding which way would be better to fall.
The man glared at him. "Yeah, so? Get out of my way."
Xyris glanced at Citron, who was watching the confrontation with a scowl on his face. No barmaster wanted trouble in his bar, and that was all that was going to happen if he did not do something quick. Besides, it was quite possible that this woman was somebody important, or at least that she worked for somebody important. If that was the case, Citron would get into further trouble with the higher-status Fae around the city, and his tavern could be taken from him.
"Hey, buddy," Citron called, to Xyris' relief. "Let the lady go."
The man snarled. "Who is she to any of you?"
Xyris saw, out of the corner of his eye, Citron signal something to someone in the back of the tavern. The man snarled again, and Xyris assumed that somebody had snuck out, probably to find a Fae warrior. Those guards normally lined the streets, so it would not be long, if that was what was sent for, for the person to find one.
"I want... another... drink," the woman murmured. Her eyelashes fluttered, like she was struggling to keep her eyes open. Her knees then gave out all of a sudden, and the man did not bother catching her. Xyris cringed as she collapsed to the floor in a heap, though she was still mumbling things - still conscious.
"Fine," the man spat. "Keep her. Though I don't see what harm I was doin'."
He stormed out of the place afterward, and Xyris immediately squatted down to help the woman back to her feet. Though it was a thrill to drape her arm over his shoulders and to wrap one of his own around her waist to prop her up, it was also worrying. He knew very little about this woman, who was exceedingly looped by now, and yet he had just taken responsibility for her. Citron shrugged at him and went back to cleaning out a glass, as if forgetting that anything just happened.
"You," the woman suddenly said, lifting the hand that was not atop Xyris' shoulder to point at Citron. He looked up and frowned slightly.
"I paid you," she continued. "I paid you enough... for another drink."
Citron sighed and poured another glass of the fairy juice. Xyris wanted to snatch it before the woman could get it, but he supposed it was her right to drink it if she wanted to. However, he turned and headed for the door with a slight wave at Citron after that, not wanting the woman to finish this glass in time to ask for another. The man who had gone to her was just the first of many, Xyris was sure, and just imagining his girlfriend in a similar situation to this woman was enough incentive for him to bring her wherever she needed to go.
Once out in the sunlight, the woman flinched and shut her eyes. Xyris reached over to pull up the hood of her cloak once more and grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him.
"Miss? Miss, can you tell me where I should bring you? Where do you live?"
The woman opened her eyes and peered at him suspiciously, and her words, when she spoke, were a slur. He was relieved that she at least had understood him.
"You are a stranger," she mumbled. "He would kill me if he found out what I've been doing." Then she started giggling and took the opportunity to drain the glass she was holding before dropping it to the ground, though he was not sure she even noticed it leave her hand. "Kill me. He wouldn't kill me. He would probably just kill you."
Xyris scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick of his. "Miss, I'm just trying to help you. What's a safe place I can take you to?"
She sighed dramatically and tried to turn herself in a circle, but stumbled again. She caught herself before he had to this time, but her eyes told him that she was seeing different things than he was; the glazed-over look of someone lost in a daydream.
"You could always take me to the castle," she stated in a sing-song voice. "But I don't really want to go there."
Xyris felt his eyebrows furrow. "Is that where you live, Miss? Are there people expecting you in the castle?"
She began to buzz her lips like an infant, and the noise caught the attention of one of the nearby guards. He raised an eyebrow in their direction, but was not interested enough to head over to them.
"Miss, please. If I took you to the castle, would there be people to take care of you there?" he asked again.
The woman stopped and placed her hands on her hips, pouting heavily. "Yes, I'm sure he's looking for me by now. What time is it, anyway? Was it already yesterday?"
Xyris held back his laugh at the absurd question. "It's nearly dusk, Miss."
"Ugh!" she groaned loudly, laying a hand against her face. He wondered if she noticed how theatrical she was being, or if it was just the fairy juice in her system. He doubted that she was aware of much of anything after eight full glasses of the stuff; not the weak kind, either.
"He would definitely be back by now, then. Ugh," she repeated, then fixed her eyes on Xyris. "You better help me get back so that he knows you aren't a bad guy. I'm sure we would see him soon either way."
She had that moment of coherence, but fell right back into delusion after that. She had so much trouble walking that Xyris called up some of his magic to help him carry her; he used it to make her feet hover above the ground, as she was making the process very difficult by dragging her heels. At one point, he tried asking her what her name was, but she shrugged off his question entirely. At another, she was mumbling strings of nonsense words, and Xyris, curious, held up four fingers and asked him how many she saw. She said there were at least sixty pickles there.
By the time he got her all the way to the castle gate, the suns had set, and he was sweating. Not just because of the effort he had used up to bring her all the way across the city, but because he had never been to the castle before. He was just a chandler, and his girlfriend was a seamstress; both good at what they did, if his opinion was anything to go by, but they made only enough money to support themselves. They simply did not sell their products to important enough people, and the ones who really needed their wares were as poor as they were. They could not bear to raise their prices and thus make life harder for their friends and neighbors.
"Should I just, uh... should I just leave you here?" Xyris asked her. He did not want to, but he did not know how to get inside the gates. It was even more awkward because he did not know who this woman was, or even if she really belonged here. There was not much he could say to any guard who questioned him as to his business here, which would be bound to happen sooner than later.
"Of course not," she responded indignantly. "We are friends now, Cyprus." She blinked, but neglected to open her eyes back up before she took another step, and ended up tripping over her own feet. With a sigh, Xyris helped her back up again, and she pouted as she rubbed the scrape she had gotten on her elbow.
After that, she flipped the hood off of her head and glanced up at the left tower. Xyris could not see anybody, but he knew that there must be guards up there, and thus began to breathe more erratically. The warriors of the Fae had always intimidated him; he knew that they were exceedingly capable, that many of them had stories told about their valor. Xyris believed himself to be a good man, but not the bravest one; at least, not brave enough to stand up to a Fae warrior, or to enlist for battle. He would not be much good in that field.
The gate then began to crank open, and the woman smiled at him as she skipped through. Xyris followed cautiously, darting his eyes around. There were so many Fae lining the walls of the courtyard. When the woman hopped up the front steps, he hurried to catch up, trying to swallow his absolute terror at the fact that she was planning on entering through the very front doors.
The guards had already admitted her entry by the time he reached her side again, and though the guards gave him a strange look as he walked past them, they did not stop him. He let loose a long, relieved breath, then looked left and right rapidly, searching for the woman.
She had gone right, and was crawling on all fours up a staircase. Xyris watched her for a second, then swallowed away his nervousness once more and followed the woman up the stairs, though her progress was slow. He did not know where she was going, and he did not know why nobody had spoken to him.
"Oh, fiddlesticks," he heard the woman say upon reaching the top of the staircase. He stepped up to her level and paled as he saw the young Fae man who was, quite literally, covered in knives.
"Are you alright, Princess?" the man asked, after rising from a bow.
Xyris felt his jaw drop wide open. The warrior was addressing the woman he had brought here. He was addressing her as Princess.
Princess?!
"Shhhh," the woman urged the warrior, stepping forward to place two of her fingers on the man's lips. His eyes widened in surprise, but he did not move away. The woman glanced back at Xyris with a conspiratorial grin on her face before looking back at the warrior.
"He doesn't know who I am, Dallin," she informed the warrior.
Only then did Dallin even seem to acknowledge Xyris' presence. The woman stumbled only so far as it took her to walk into a wall. Dallin caught at her arm gently and pressed his lips together as he fixed his gaze on Xyris.
"What is wrong with her?" he demanded.
Xyris wished he was not here. He scratched his arm, as if this situation was an itch that would go away if he kept at it. "I found her in a tavern. I didn't... I didn't know who she was."
"Dallin, why won't my door open?" the woman - the princess, evidently - whined. She was clawing at the closest marble wall with her free arm. Dallin glanced at her, then licked his lips and turned back to Xyris.
"Come with me," he commanded, and Xyris was not one to disobey. Dallin gently tugged on the princess' arm and led her up a few more flights of stairs, though by the way she seemed to nearly be floating, Xyris knew that the warrior was using magic to hurry the process along. Indeed, the whole situation seemed fairly urgent, and the princess kept sighing, as if she knew that it was, and she was bored of that knowledge. Xyris wondered if something like this had ever happened before.
The princess. The princess. He had just returned Princess Serena of the Fae to the castle. Never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed he would ever so much as speak to the lost princess, but she had already called them friends. Granted, she was completely looped, but it was still more than Xyris ever thought he would have experienced.
He found himself holding back laughter as he thought back to the words of the man at the tavern. Who is she to any of you? Oh, boy - if only that poor sucker had known what he was getting himself into.
It was upon reaching the third level that Dallin began to slow his steps, which made Xyris think that they had nearly reached their destination. They rounded a single corner before they all stopped in their tracks, though Xyris nearly missed the memo and walked right into the warrior's back. He imagined being impaled by all of those sharp knives at once, and a powerful shiver shot down his spine.
There was a man standing in the middle of the hallway, clearly expecting them. His eyes shot to the princess immediately, as if the other two Fae were not even there. He was big; not huge, but clearly muscled enough to be a significant threat. He had dark, inky blue hair, and eyes of sharp grey under thick, shapely eyebrows. His face was chiseled and set into a mask of determination; the kind of expression that Xyris would not want to challenge. This feeling of discomfort and inferiority that the sight of the man created in Xyris only increased as Xyris saw the ancient swords strapped across his back, and the belt full of polished knives around his waist. He was a trained killer too, obviously. And, judging by the way Dallin inclined his head to him, though the man seemed to ignore the gesture, Xyris assumed that he was a really good trained killer.
The princess spoke first, and Xyris cringed at the loopy tone she used. She could not have made it more obvious how looped she was, and he was concerned about being put at fault for it, now that he was sandwiched between these intimidating people.
"Why does everyone look so serious?" she slurred, shifting her weight from foot to foot like she was attempting - but failing - to dance. Her arms swayed by her sides like she was impersonating something with tentacles.
The expression of the man standing across from them merged into one of concern. "What is wrong with her?" he demanded, just as Dallin had, though his voice made the question much more threatening. He flexed the fingers of one hand, and Xyris cringed, almost anticipating an attack.
Dallin cleared his throat, and even his voice shook a bit as he answered. "This man says that he found her in a tavern, Sir. She... she must have been drinking."
Xyris scratched the back of his neck as the leader narrowed his eyes at him, studying him closely. Then his eyes were back on the princess, who was humming to herself in a discordant key, and apparently catching imaginary butterflies in the hall. She shouted out loud each time she got one, and grinned with immense joy when she opened her hands again to let it go. The man watched all of this with sadness in his eyes, though Xyris did not know the cause of it.
"You can go, Dallin," the man said eventually.
"You know, Dallin is pretty cute," the princess chimed in suddenly, releasing an invisible butterfly as she walked over to the man who was clearly the leader. She reached up with both her hands and cradled his face, and Xyris held his breath. This did not seem like a man who would enjoy being touched; he had seemed so stiff, so brooding, so poised to fight.
"I never noticed before... you have pretty eyes, Dallin," she mumbled, her fingers gliding down the man's cheeks. Xyris risked focusing for a moment on the latter's face and saw a softness in his expression he had not been expecting. The princess' hands dropped then, but he caught them and held them gently in his own as she swayed in place, as if reluctant to let her wander farther from him.
Then: "Dallin," the man stated in a clipped tone. Dallin, for his part, could not seem to move quickly enough then. He nodded to the man and bowed swiftly to the inebriated princess before rushing down the hall, probably embarrassed from being called cute by the princess - though it was unclear who she had actually been referring to.
Once the knife man was gone from sight, the leader stepped close to Xyris, who had to fight off every instinct that rose in his body to step far, far away in response.
"My name is Tarin," the man declared, and the princess laughed and said something along the lines of 'duh' in the background. Xyris felt his knees begin to shake.
"Tarin... Wulf?" he asked weakly. Wulf nodded curtly and stuck out a hand, which Xyris shook, unable to believe that this was happening. He had met the princess and the illustrious general of the Realm in the same day? Cleamum would never believe it.
Wulf did not release Xyris' hand right away, and only once he smiled slightly and raised his eyebrows did Xyris realize he had not given him his own name.
"I'm Xyris Fields," he blurted, and he could almost see Wulf tucking away the information in his mind. This was a man that nobody should mess with; that was a fact well-known to the public, but even more apparent upon standing right in front of him. Xyris felt completely helpless, completely worthless. His life had been in this man's hands since they had been within sight of each other.
"Well, Xyris, I would appreciate it if you would explain to me what happened today," he said, and Xyris did not miss the way his eyes moved back to watch the princess even as he spoke to him.
"Well--" Xyris began, but Wulf held up a hand, and Xyris bit his tongue immediately.
"Not here. We can go into my room," the general pronounced, and gestured for Xyris to go in first. He did, though his stomach was clenched up into so many knots that it made it difficult to move. He turned and watched through the open doorway as the general moved towards the princess and whispered something close to her ear. She allowed him to take her hand, and he pulled her into the room after him. She moved to flop onto the bed instantly, and the general did nothing to stop her. He just shut the door and turned with folded arms towards Xyris, not even bothering to offer the man a seat.
"Aw, Tarin!" the princess suddenly gasped, grabbing one of his pillows and drawing it to her cheek. "What a cute puppy! When did you get it?"
Wulf clenched his jaw and pulled a dagger out of his belt. Xyris took a speedy step back, but Wulf only smirked and began to work the knife around the fingers of one hand with incredible dexterity. Xyris was hypnotized by the miniature spectacle.
"Now would be a good time, Xyris," the general stated. Xyris flushed, embarrassed, and nodded.
"Well... I had been hanging around at the tavern, but I had not taken a drink yet. I saw her come in, but she had that cloak wrapped around her, so no one else seemed to pay her any mind at first. I only kept watching her because she gave the barmaster a gold coin, and she shot down glass after glass of fairy juice like it was weak as water."
Xyris paused here as Wulf leaned against the wall, still twirling one of his daggers, weaving it in and out of his fingers as if it did not have the potential to slice one of them through. His eyes moved with the princess, but Xyris assumed that he was listening closely, despite the lack of any facial expressions to give away how he was feeling.
"Anyway, it was after her sixth glass that--"
"Six glasses?" Wulf interrupted sharply. The dagger stopped moving, and Xyris felt his hands begin trembling. He had definitely been listening.
"Yes, Sir, that was how many she took before a man came over to make advances on her."
Wulf tossed the dagger in the air and caught it with his opposite hand without so much as glancing at it. "The barmaster allowed her six glasses of fairy juice?"
Xyris coughed. "He, uh... she paid for it, Sir, and she was pretty insistent on drinking them, from what I saw. There wasn't a pink drop left in any--"
"Pink?" Wulf interrupted again, and his sharp gaze turned into a dark glare. "Six glasses of pink fairy juice? Did none of you imbeciles realize how powerful an effect that would have on a woman this size?"
Xyris wondered if his cheeks were as devoid of blood as they felt. He stammered, "Actually, Sir, sh-she drank eight glasses altogether"--at the flash in Wulf's eyes following this statement, Xyris rushed ahead--"but I actually did realize that it was a dangerous situation, and when the man tried to leave with her, I went to stop it. The guy nearly started a fight, but I got her out okay, and all she would tell me was that I could bring her to the castle. So that's what I did."
Wulf shifted his gaze once more from Xyris to the princess, as if he could only make it a few seconds looking anywhere but at her. When Xyris turned to glance at her as well, he could see that the pillow she had taken for a dog was now tucked under her head, and she was curled up, seeming to already have fallen into a deep sleep.
Xyris did not turn his head; he simply snuck a peek out of the corner of his eye at Wulf to see if his suspicion held any validity. Sure enough, as Wulf did not think he was looking, he caught the small smile on his face as he looked upon the sleeping princess. That was the kind of doting look that Xyris was familiar with.
Boy, did he have a lot to tell Cleamum.
"Thank you for bringing her back safely."
Xyris blinked and wiped his sweaty palms off on his trousers. Had Tarin Wulf just thanked him?
Wulf kept his arms folded, and did not bother to look him in the eye as he continued speaking, which was just as well to Xyris. "All I'm going to need from you now is a description of the man who made the advance on the princess. You might have to identify him later for me. And I'm going to need the name of that tavern, too."
Xyris nodded frightfully, wondering what was going to happen to that man. Of course, he had brought it upon himself, trying to prey upon someone who was that looped. Besides, it was not as though Xyris could do anything about Tarin Wulf's quest for vengeance.
So he described the man for him as best he could, and told him that the tavern was named The Trespassed Spirit. Wulf nodded as though he had heard of it before, and though he did not write any of the description down, Xyris was sure that he would remember it.
"One more thing," Wulf said softly, glancing once more at the princess as if worried he was going to wake her. Xyris wondered if he realized how much his entire countenance softened when he regarded her. Perhaps he did, and Xyris was simply invading his privacy by wondering such things. Of course, he would never dare to voice them.
"Yes, Sir?"
Wulf moved the knife around in a show clearly meant to show off, spinning and flipping it around his back, over his head, from hand to hand so quickly that it was a blur. Before Xyris knew it, it was tucked back into the general's belt, and Wulf was smiling at him.
"How would you like to be rewarded for today?"
Xyris nearly choked. "Rewarded? Sir, I just--"
"You just saved the princess from who-knows-what and brought her all the way back home safely, though you did not even know who she was," Wulf interjected, raising his eyebrows. "I'm going to make sure you are given whatever it is you need as recompense for doing the Realm this service."
Xyris stared at him for a long moment, but when it became clear that the general was serious, he clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his incredulous laughter.
"Oh, heavens above, Sir - you have no idea how much this is all going to shock my girlfriend."
Wulf smiled even wider - it was almost as though the two of them had become friends in the time it took for him to scare the daylights out of Xyris.
"You have a girlfriend?" he wondered, idly straightening out his arm sheaths.
"Yes, Sir, and I-- well, I would really like to propose to her, but I have so little to offer her that I've been holding it off--"
"What do you do?" Wulf asked, and he sounded genuinely curious, though there was certainly an undercurrent of some other sort of purpose for asking.
"I'm a chandler, Sir. I make candles in the city, but I'm neither the best nor the most expensive," he replied. "And my girlfriend, Cleamum... she is a seamstress. She's very good, better than I am at my job for sure, but because of her lower rank, she does not get as much attention from the wealthier Fae as I believe she should... But we make do--"
"Then how about this for a solution?" Wulf cut in. "I give you one hundred gold coins for returning the princess to my care, and I give your girlfriend a job in the castle. I'm sure Nami could use another assistant, and as far as jobs around the city are concerned, I believe it has very good pay."
Xyris stopped breathing. He pictured what Cleamum's reaction to such news might be. He would stoop down to walk through their small front door, and she would be cooking some kind of stew that they had probably had the night before. Her face would light up when she saw him, and she would run forward to kiss him and ask him about his day before telling him all about hers. Never did Cleamum complain about her lot, though he firmly believed she deserved more in life than she had been given, even from him. It was why he had not yet asked her to marry him, though it was all he really wanted.
"You... you would do that for me, Sir?" Xyris whispered, still half-lost in the dream that today's reality had shifted into.
Wulf was still smiling, though he tried to shrug it off as nothing. "Of course. You earned it." He strode over to the end of his bed and twisted his wrist in a harsh movement. The floorboard just in front of him flew into his hand, and he reached elbow-deep into the floor. When he stood back up, he tossed a jingling sack across to Xyris, who caught it with a grunt. It was hard, and it was heavy. He pulled open the top a bit, and saw that it was--
"One hundred gold coins. Is that enough for you?" Wulf asked.
Xyris bit his tongue and mentally screamed at himself not to cry. "Sir, this is... this is... more than enough, Sir, this is too--"
Wulf held up a hand to stop him. "I wish you all the best, Xyris. You can tell Cleamum that I'll expect her just outside the castle gate tomorrow at dawn. I'll show her where she'll be working from now on."
"Sir..." Xyris breathed, "Sir, I don't know how I can ever thank you enough for this."
Wulf opened his door and whistled. "No need. Just think of it as an exchange of gifts," he said, and then there was Dallin again, standing at the ready. Wulf gave him the order to lead Xyris out, and Xyris went along with it without argument, but not before shaking Wulf's hand.
It really was no wonder the Fae believed so strongly in fate.