Nahtaia

Chapter 1-2

WINTER IN LYRA, THE largest city in the Faery Forest, was coming to an end. A slight chill still hung in the air, but with the thickening canopy, it was clear that spring was on its way. A myriad of flower buds sprang up through the thinning sheet of slick snow. Animals came out from hibernation with little cubs, kits, and chicks. It was time for the pine faeries to begin their work in the forest, collecting pine needles and cones to clear the ground for a new beginning.

Amid the fae, confidence rose within the citizens of Lyra with the unlikeliness of being seen by any passing travelers.

Nahtaia flew lower than most faeries—under the canopy instead of through it. That was another issue that often brought on scornful looks from her peers and unwanted attention from the ministers, but Nahtaia couldn’t help it. There was a sense of freedom beneath the canopy that most of the fae were afraid to discover. Without the cover of leaves and branches, a faery was much easier to spot.

That sense of freedom, however, came to a sudden halt with the sound of Oren’s voice.

“Nahtaia!” he called.

She clenched her teeth and narrowed her eyes, pushing herself to fly faster. But the moment Nahtaia’s lips pulled up in a pleased smirk, thinking she got the better of him, Oren’s fingers wrapped around her ankle and jerked her back. She turned and attempted to jerk her foot from his hold. But being an archer, his grip was strong.

“Thought you were too fast for me?” He chuckled.

“I am too fast for you,” Nahtaia replied with a kick. He let go for an instant before snatching her wrist to pull her down to his eye level.

“Remember what Moriel told you,” Oren said. Shadows reflected off his dark-green eyes, blackening them. “You take direct orders from me.” He paused, moving an inch closer, spreading his grin to the point that dimples emerged. “I guess I can call you mine now.”

Nahtaia’s face burned, and her belly turned. Without any thought, and for maybe the hundredth time since they’d known each other, Oren’s face became well acquainted with her fist.

“Don’t you ever say that to me again, you putrid clump of dung mold!”

With Oren temporarily blinded, Nahtaia took off for the edge of the forest. She wore a proud smirk on her face, though in the back of her mind, she knew she would be punished for what she did. They weren’t kids any longer.

“He deserved it,” Nahtaia told herself, rubbing her sore knuckles. “No one talks to me like that.”

When she reached the edge of the woods, Nahtaia slowed down and stopped in a large shrub. With her eyes on a human farm in the distance, she took a seat on a branch and let out a weary sigh as fear of the ministers set in.

What have you done? she thought to herself, leaning her head on a branch. Her knuckles started to pulse in pain.

Nahtaia remained there for a few minutes, watching horses and dogs wander the edge of the field that separated the human village from the faery forest. The shrub she sat in was where she always went to think. It was quiet, and no other faery dared go so far from home. Humans were dangerous, after all.

Nahtaia wondered what made her so much braver than the other faeries. “It’s not bravery,” she whispered the words other faeries had said to her, “it’s called stupidity.” Her heart fluttered with nervousness.

“So this is where you ran off to,” Oren said, nearly startling Nahtaia off the branch.

She looked up at him with narrowed, angry eyes. With his hands braced against an upper twig, he stood with one leg casually crossed over the other. The left side of his face was swollen and red with a small patch of purple in the middle of the cheekbone. He dropped down to sit beside her.

“You didn’t report me,” she said.

“If I did, they’d lock you up,” he replied with a grin. “Then I wouldn’t be able to spend any time with you.”

Nahtaia wrinkled her nose and forehead in disgust. “You don’t get it, do you?” she said.

“What, that you despise me?” he replied, brows raised. “Oh no, I get it. But that only makes me like you more.”

“Oh, stop it. No you don’t.”

Oren laughed. “I don’t understand why you always think I’m lying.”

“Because that’s what you do,” Nahtaia replied. “You lie and you flirt and you put on this show for attention.”

Oren crossed an arm over his chest and lifted his other hand to his chin. He traced his jaw with the back of his fingers, as he often did when he was considering his next words.

“There’s one way for you to know how I feel,” he said, his voice suddenly quieter. “You can let me kiss you.”

“Oh, please,” Nahtaia said with a guffaw. “Go find a chipmunk and—”

Before she could finish her thought, the squeaking of a human cart was heard nearing. Nahtaia and Oren dashed to the back of the shrub and hid behind a denser bunch of leaves.

“Let’s go,” he whispered, taking her hand.

She jerked away and fixed her attention on the cart in wonder. An older man drove the contraption while two smaller humans sat in the back—a girl and a younger boy.

“Nahtaia, I know that look in your eyes. We have to go,” Oren pressed. “We’re already too far from Lyra’s border. We’ll have no help if you do something stupid.”

“If you’re so frightened, then go away,” she hissed, glancing between him and the humans.

Oren pressed his lips in a tight line. “Nahtaia, you have to stop. You’re putting yourself and the city of Lyra in danger by being here.”

Nahtaia’s breath hitched in her throat, and she briefly clenched her hands as she threw a glance over her shoulder. “You’re just mad because I won’t follow your orders.”

Something in his eyes changed and his expression turned from concerned to glowering. “You’ve changed, Nahtaia. Don’t you ever stop to think about consequences to your actions?”

His words made her stomach turn sour and her cheeks burn. She let her hair fall in between them. “Being stuck with you is consequence enough.”

Oren tensed and shook his head. “That’s it. Nahtaia, if you don’t come with me now, I will report you, not only for the blow to my face, but for the danger you’ve put all of Lyra in by leaving the border.”

Nahtaia snapped her attention to him and hatefully stared him in the face. Who did he think he was to threaten her like that? She would prove to him that his words didn’t scare her in the least; he held no power over her.

“Do what you will,” she snipped and in the blink of an eye, darted into the field toward the cart with one glance over her shoulder.

Fear and surprise twisted his face as he watched her shrink away from the safety of the forest and into the perilous human world.