I Take Thee

Chapter Three

After a tearful goodbye, I felt numb rumbling about the countryside. Mind, soul and particularly my behind. How I loathed travelling by coach, at this point I would have rather walked to the capital… at least my legs would get a decent stretch.

‘How much longer?’ I whined, and whilst I knew Marie couldn’t say for certain it would have been nice to hear her pretend to care. I kept expecting the words ‘not long now milady’ but instead I was met with silence and an irritated glance. I was bored, she was bored and now it was getting tedious.

‘So… I heard master Seb declared his undying love for you before we left’ I say, my attempt at bonding with my lady's maid. Instead, she pursed her lips and concentrated on the rolling hills outside.

‘I’m just saying, master Seb has a long line of ladies waiting for him…’ I coax, nothing.

Although a little pink flushes her cheeks, perhaps I should leave alone. After all, she already hates me, no point in making matters worse. I wasn’t exactly sure to why it was Marie and I had never had a friendship, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. All the servants at Hallow Hall were treated well and not once did I or my parents think of them as beneath us. After all, they were just doing what was necessary to survive. Father and mother had both been adamant that we treated everyone with respect regardless of their station in life and had even employed fae at one stage. Perhaps it was because we were the same age and yet lived completely different lives that irked her so. Marie’s etiquette alone made her more ladylike than I. Try harder, a voice urges me. I guess I could learn a lot from Marie, and I should learn it fast. It was one thing to dress like nobility but an entirely different thing to act like one belonged.

‘A lady shouldn’t say such things’ she chides, ‘or ogle the servants’

‘ I wasn’t…’

‘Lady Aeryn, I am only here at my family’s request otherwise I must seek employment elsewhere’

‘I’m sorry Marie…’ but she interrupts me once again.

‘Besides, perhaps you should focus on where your own affections lie… milady’

Excuse me! I didn’t know what she was insinuating but I was pretty sure it had something to do with Dion. I felt my own cheeks flush from embarrassment. Well played Marie, well played.

‘Perhaps we should play something else? Cards maybe?’ She smiles eventually, saccharine sweet with no hint of genuine kindness, just civic duty. I can tell she clearly enjoyed watching me get flustered for a moment or two, I scowl at the deck of cards she produces from her purse but soon relent. Boredom was a cruel mistress.

After a few rounds of cards, I admitted defeat and we were back to suffocating silence. Instead I watched as the world went by, passing small villages, woodland and rivers. So rural and peaceful, with the last of the summer waning around us. At Aelfhelm’s astounding beauty I had the privilege to grow up in, my stomach turned at the thought of entering the capital. My last official visit to Doria had been when I was thirteen and still the smell of rancid meat, horseshit and heavily scented storefronts filled my nostrils. It was the jewel of Aelfhelm, of course it would be as the royal residence, but like most cities it had a dark underbelly. I sighed, remembering how pretty it had seemed as a child if you stuck to the right path. In fact Doria was beautiful… if you stayed on the right path. That path was a façade that wound through the city and all the way up to the gates of the castle. Picturesque trees lining the pathways and flowers of every colour imaginable, expensive shops full of trinkets and treasures and plazas bustling with food vendors, entertainers and all manner of society. Fountains shooting up towards the sky, the water refreshing in the summer heat. Fae dancing and singing on the cobbled stones, the music as enticing, seductive to the senses. Alas, take a trip down a side street and you may find a pile of s**t as tall as a child. Round a corner and find a lady of the night being devoured by all kinds of beasts. Knock a couple of doors down and you may find yourself enslaved by man or faerie creature alike, selling your soul for a chance, a wish, a fool's bargain. That was where I was headed.

We had only stopped once in at least eight hours, the sun hanging low in the sky like fat ripened fruit waiting to fall beyond the horizon. Surely we were due to find an inn for the night? I hammered on the roof of the carriage, startling a sleeping Maria. The driver didn’t stop the coach to my chagrin.

‘Dion?’ I stuck my head out of the window, careful not to scratch the glass.

‘Well, that’s extremely dignified’ Maria mutters from inside the carriage.

‘Lady Aeryn?’ Dion comes trotting alongside atop his horse, the picture of a heroic knight upon his noble steed. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Please tell me we are stopping soon?’ I hiss, dying to tear the silk from my skin. My pocketknife had begun digging into my ribs at least two hours into the journey and if it wasn’t the knife causing me unease, it was the contraption that was the corset.

‘Or at least let me ride with you?’ I questioned.

‘Not a chance’ he scoffed.

‘Why not? Am I not your lady?’ I huffed, pulling rank for once. A piss poor attempt but still, it could have worked if it had been anyone else.

‘That you are, but your father gave me strict instructions… and he pays me’ Dion countered.

Traitor.

I chose to ignore the laughter as I flipped him a rude gesture and retreated back inside the carriage, my moving jail cell. I ignored the laughter of the coachman and footman too. What I could not ignore however was the rumbling in my stomach.

‘Oh please’ Maria sighed, her distain for my lack of decorum reaching its limit.

Once arriving at the ever so famous Boars Head Inn, located on the edge of Millville, only a couple hours ride from Doria, I was pleased to say we were greeted with a warm reception. Except that was a lie. Apparently my father owed debts to more than a few patrons of the Boars Head inn and upon seeing the gold painted crest on the side of the family carriage it had done us no favours. Parting ways with much more coin than anticipated, myself and Marie found ourselves the warm reception we had hoped for.

Filling my belly with rabbit stew had felt like a luxury, even if the meat was gamey and suspicious to say the least. Mopping up the last of my bowl with the crust of bread had left me satiated and ready for bed. However, going to bed now felt impossible as I surveyed my surroundings. There were more faeries in this inn that there had ever been in Hallow.

Green skinned, potbellied Imps sat drinking by the fire, a phooka resting by their feet. They laughed a lot, their cackles at a crude joke filling the room. I had seen imps before, but five of them all at one time was a rare sight indeed. One of the barmaids was elven of sorts, her wispy blonde locks tied back in eleven braids, her pointed ears longer than that of the high fae. Her green eyes shone in the dim light of the inn, against the firelight they seemed otherworldly, in fact the jade in my hair combs paled in comparison to their beauty. Dion and the coachman sat drinking their ale in the corner of the tavern, a good spot to survey the room in its entirety. Not that Dion was doing anything other than surveying the bevy of bar wenches. The phooka noticed me staring at the mixture of patrons and tilted its head on its side, the angle not natural. It’s yellow eyes and toothy grin causing the hairs on the back of my neck to prickle. It flicked its long-tufted tail in amusement, its brown pointed ears standing up on end. I had only seen these magnificent creatures in father’s field journals and yet in person it was impossible not to be in sheer awe. I cast my eyes back to Marie, but she had already slipped away from the table. I spied her climbing the wooden staircase up to the rooms, perhaps she had said something whilst I was preoccupied with ogling the other guests.

‘More ale miss?’

‘I’m not drinking ale’.

‘Very well miss, wine perhaps?’

I peer up at the barmaid, her slight frame and graceful movement unnerving somehow. Now I see her up close I could see the tiny needle sharp teeth from behind her smile, her green eyes more like smoked mirrors, designed to lure you in. Elves, what did I know about elves? Elves were tricksters, cunning and clever. They were masters of song and hailed from the deepest darkest parts of the Forrest’s. I smile politely back, wary of accepting anything from her.

‘No thank you’

‘Very well miss’ she curtsies and makes to leave but pauses ‘begging your pardon miss, but those are beautiful combs you have’

‘Thank you, they were my mothers’ I reply, worrying she may snatch them from my hair at any given moment.

‘She must have been a beauty…’ she muses as if deep in thought, then after a long pause she continues ‘If I may offer some advice miss?’

She lingers. Awaiting my permission.

At this point sure, if it means you let me out from under your gaze. I swallow and nod, the weak smile not leaving my lips. Hesitant at first, the elf leans in closer, so close I can smell her. The scent of damp leaves and something sweet similar to aniseed to mask the smell of decay. Her eyes darken, their glassiness devoid of any soul, her skin greyer than I had thought. An air of darkness filled the room and I swore the sconces flickered, nobody noticed. I loosened a breath and saw it before me filling the cold air like smoke. Her voice changed, it deepened as she offered her warning…

‘Keep your mother close, dear one. For once you enter the Kings game, you will need all the help you can get…’

A coldness enters my veins, her words cutting through to the bone. She leaves me floundering at my table, her scent lingering around me just as she did. I catch the Phooka staring at me still, it’s equally as disturbing grin setting me on edge. Part of me wants to leave and the other part is frozen in fear, but more than that I want to know what in Aelfhelm she means!

‘Barmaid!’ I call back after her, she ignores me carrying her tray back to the bar.

I find the strength to stand up from my table to follow her. Dion is still enamoured by the buxom barmaid who sat down to join him and the coachman, he’s too deep in conversation to even notice me missing. He was doing such a great job of being my guard, it was unbelievable. Apparently nobody else had witnessed my encounter with the elf, all except maybe the devious looking phooka.

‘Excuse me?’ I call after her, she wanders into the back room and before logic can take over I am already on her tail.

‘Barmaid?’ I call out, the back room filled with casks of ale large enough to crush a horse. I have the sinking feeling that I shouldn’t be back here. That feeling only deepens when I see a dark figure hiding between the wine barrels.

‘Please?’ I call out again. Utterly pathetic.

‘If this is some cruel trick, you got me ok? Now please come out and explain what you meant’

After a few minutes of standing in silence, the dank, darkened cellar cloying at my worst fears I turned on my heal and headed towards the door, back into the inn.

‘Wait!’ The voice hissed. I paused, hearing the same desperation in her voice.

My leaving had caught her attention it would seem. Hesitantly I let the door close back on me, softening the slam with my palm as not to arouse the barkeep. What little light shone in from the small glass window of the door lit up enough of the room for me to see the elf crawl out of her hiding spot.

‘Please’ she whimpered ‘Please don’t complain, I need this job’

‘I’m not going to complain’ I reply kindly, confused at her change in demeanour. Whilst I was confused, I wasn’t stupid enough to not suspect a trick. Surprisingly she appeared to be in genuine distress. Still, I approached with caution, the pocket knife clutched closely to my breast. She kneeled sobbing into her skirts, the typical damsel routine. The smell however, she no longer smelled of rotten leaves but sweet like freshly picked blooms mixed with the scent of wine and ale. It was strange but the change in smell alone said volumes. I felt safer.

‘What did you mean earlier?’ I prompted, careful not to get too close, in case her teeth weren’t just for show. The elf leant back to sit on her behind, her green eyes once again filled with sparkle, even in the dimness of the cellar light. Though tears now ran down her cheeks, her skin returning to its milky complexion.

‘I’m sorry miss but when I have these… these… premonitions, I can’t help it’ she explained, her voice meek ‘It’s the third time this month I’ve scared patrons out of paying, please don’t tell Mr Reeves or he’ll dock my pay again’

As the elf pleaded, I couldn’t help but sympathise. Without thinking I extended my hand to the poor creature. If she bit me, I deserved it. Taking my hand she heaved herself in one motion off the dirty floor. My arm was still in tact much to my relief.

‘I won’t say a thing, please don’t panic’ I consoled her.

‘Look miss, I am sorry for what I said but I can’t explain what I meant or where it came from… I just… its my nature’

‘I understand, please don’t worry, what’s your name?’

She bulks. I’m an i***t. Like most fae, Elves cannot say their true name aloud or else it gives ownership of their mind and body to the one they give it to. Likewise, if a human was to freely give their name to a faerie without saying it backwards first then they would find themselves at that faeries mercy real quick.

‘I forgot, sorry I know you can’t tell me your true name…’

‘Ceilia… they call me Ceilia’

‘Nyrea… Aeryn Fairspen’

We regard each other for a moment and an idea strikes me. It’s brilliant and foolish all at the same time, but like Ceilia I cannot help myself.

‘Ceilia, what would you say to a new job instead?’