Fated Crown by Eva Chase
Chapter Eleven
August
Seeing the border castle almost complete fills me with exhilaration. I can’t keep the smile off my face as I move around the new kitchen—fully wood and on our side, as I requested—adding the last touches to the equipment. Talia watches me from a stool she’s already made her own, perched there with her malformed foot dangling. She seems content just to watch me in silence.
But when I lean back against the counter to take in my work with a satisfied air, she straightens up on her seat. “August… Could I ask you about something it might be hard for you to talk about?”
Something catches in my chest that she even feels she needs to check first. I turn toward her. “Of course, Sweetness. Anything.” We’re in this together—all five of us now—and that means no secrets, no shying away from difficult conversations. And I know Talia would never bring up a potentially painful subject unless she believed it was important.
She looks down at her hands before meeting my eyes again. “It’s just—I’ve started wondering about the other humans who are stuck here in the fae world. I know a few of them are here at least sort of by choice… Corwin would let any of his human servants go back to the human world if they asked… but from what I’ve heard, that’s pretty rare. Obviously a lot of the fae I’ve had to deal with haven’t seen me as anywhere near an equal.”
“They’re getting there,” I say, sidling closer to take her hand. “As they see just how much you can do—”
She shakes her head. “It shouldn’t matter how much I can do. Or any of the others. Just because they don’t have magic, that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t get any say in what happens in their lives.”
The anguish in her voice makes my heart ache. “Is this about your brother? I can tell you that the summer arch-lords have accepted that he can’t help with the curse, and they won’t push to bring him here anymore. If the Unseelie are still making demands, we’ll deal with them.”
“It’s not really that either. Though I guess it’s part of the same problem.” Talia lowers her head, a few strands of her hair falling across her face. “I’ve barely been around other humans since I came to the fae realm, after being so isolated with Aerik and then Sylas not having any on his staff. But lots of the other packs have human servants, don’t they? Their lives matter too.”
She pauses, and I wait for her to decide where she’s going with this topic. Her fingers tighten around mine. “You told me about how easily your father killed your mother when you were a kid. Was that how he treated all the humans in his domain? Like their lives didn’t mean anything at all, and the only thing that mattered was what he felt like doing with them? Do most of the fae see us as that worthless?”
Now I understand why she hesitated to get into this subject. The memory of my mother’s murder makes my stomach turn even now, hundreds of years later. But it’s a reasonable question, one I might even have prompted with the things I’ve told Talia in the past. My early hesitations about taking Talia as a mate seem incredibly distant now that she’s become so entwined in my life, but there was a time when I was wary of even how I might end up treating her.
I release her hand to stroke my fingers down her back. “Honestly, I don’t completely know. As you can obviously tell, there are other fae like Aerik and Kellan who see humans as not much more than easy prey. But even when we did have human servants at Hearthshire, Sylas made sure that they were well cared for. I remember there was one woman who became pretty miserable, and he had her taken back. Donovan seems considerate in his treatment of his own servants.”
I stop, frowning as I try to come up with a better answer. Finally, I have to admit, “I’m not sure which is more common. Even in Thundervale under my father, I didn’t pay all that much attention to how any of the staff were treated other than my mother. And he’s harsh to the fae who serve him too. I’d like to say he’s one of the worst, that most are kinder…”
“But it could be that’s how it goes in a lot of other packs too,” Talia fills in.
I grimace. “Yes.” Guilt twists through my gut, loosening only when a flicker of inspiration hits me. “Do you want to get a better idea with your own eyes? We could visit some of the nearby domains and ask to speak with the human servants… I wouldn’t bother the arch-lords unnecessarily, but any of the lesser lords will kind of have to welcome an arch-lord’s cadre-chosen.” I smile a little slyly.
To my relief Talia smiles back. “I’d like that. I feel like I kind of owe it to the other humans here to speak up for them while I’m here, since some of the fae are starting to respect me more.”
What a perfectly Talia thing to say. I press a kiss to her temple before she hops off the stool. “You’re already doing so much, Sweetness. You don’t need to take on more crusades.”
Her expression turns serious. “But how can I spend all this time trying to heal the fae without doing anything for all the people like me who’ve ended up trapped here, maybe not much better off than I was in Aerik’s cage? At least the fae are looking out for each other. The humans in this world… if I don’t do anything, they have no one.”
I can’t argue that point. The fact that I hadn’t considered it before myself brings back a pang of my earlier guilt.
I motion for her to follow me out of the kitchen. “Sylas hasn’t given me any duties for the morning. We could pay a call on the domain that borders ours just beyond the Heart’s hill right now if you’d like.”
Talia heads for the door with a bit of a skip in her uneven steps. “Yes, please.”
I don’t have the carriage-summoning magic myself, so I direct her to the stable to pick out the steadiest horse we have. If I were traveling alone, I might simply shift, but arriving to request a favor with a woman riding on my wolfish back doesn’t seem like the most dignified approach, as much fun as it might be otherwise.
Fae horses aren’t exactly calm in temperament most of the time, but I pick out one I trust not to test the reins too much and scoop Talia up so she’s perched between my legs on the saddle. Thankfully, the skirt of her dress is loose enough that it only rides up to her knees. I wrap one arm around her waist to secure her. “Comfortable?”
She laughs, settling closer against me in a way that sends a pulse of heat through my groin. “I’m not sure I’d want to try this for a long trip, but for a short one it should be just fine.”
I can’t resist nipping the crook of her neck. Then I guide the horse toward the path that leads from our domain down the broad hill around the Heart.
For the first several minutes, cantering along with my love nestled against me and the sun beaming down on us through the trees, it’s a pretty enjoyable excursion. But as we reach the bottom of the slope and head on toward the border of the nearest neighboring domain, thoughts of the grim purpose of our visit rise back to the surface.
I don’t actually know what we’ll find here. Will it make Talia trust the fae even less? Make returning to the human world seem like a better option, no matter how much she cares for the few of us who’ve treated her well?
I swallow down those worries and focus on presenting an authoritative front for addressing the lady who rules this pack.
The sparse but vibrant forest we’ve been riding through falls away completely, and the castle comes into view up ahead. The lady must have a particular affinity for plant-life, because the tall, rippling structure looks as if it’s been created out of a mass of intertwined vines. The houses of the pack village look similarly woven, nearly blending into the grassy plain they’ve sprouted from.
Several members of the pack are out and about, tending to gardens or working their various crafts. At our arrival, a man polishing a bronze platter looks up and then stands. “Hey, there. What brings you to Petalrise?” His gaze moves to Talia, and he pauses. “You’ve come from Hearth-by-the-Heart?”
“We have,” I say, helping Talia to the ground and then dismounting. “I’m from Arch-Lord Sylas’s cadre. Our companion wished to speak with your lady about some of the workings of her domain, if she’s present.”
Won’t it be sweet when I can call Talia my mate as Corwin does? Although if some of our brethren have their way, that day will never come.
Two attendants have already headed our way from the castle. One reaches for the horse’s reins. “I’ll see your steed to the stable. Lady Gullven will attend to you shortly.”
The other attendant leads us into the castle. The rooms inside are filled with a greenish-gold light and a scent like newly grown leaves.
I’ve only had a few minutes to worry that the lady of the pack might find our visit a big imposition after all when she sweeps into the room and dips into a slight bow. I have to catch myself on the verge to bowing to her, still not totally used to the respects now paid to me as part of an arch-lord’s cadre. Despite only being cadre-chosen, I’m now on a slightly higher level of authority than any regular lord or lady.
“What can I do for you, honored guests?” she asks.
I don’t like the way her attention lingers on Talia with a slight furrow in her brow. I set my hand on Talia’s shoulder. I can give her a proper title with her connection to Corwin, at least. “Lady Talia would like to learn more about the other humans living among us fae. I was hoping you’d give us permission to speak with whatever human servants you currently employ.”
Employ isn’t really the right word for it, since as Talia rightly pointed out, the humans in question won’t have had much choice about making the journey to our world. They aren’t being compensated for their work either. But I don’t think saying “enslave” would encourage Gullven to agree.
More skepticism shows in her expression, but she nods. “I don’t think they’re so busy that it should be a problem. You can stay here in the sitting room, and I’ll have them brought to you. And one of my staff will see about refreshments as well. I have another matter to attend to, but if you should have need of me, just send word.”
“We appreciate it,” Talia speaks up, her voice soft but confident in a way that makes my chest swell with pride. She really is finding her footing as a lady in her own right, regardless of what any of my fellow fae might think of her heritage.
Gullven slips away, and a few minutes later a young fae woman arrives with a tray of duskapple wine and pastries I can tell just on sight are a little under-baked. Talia nibbles at one as we wait for the human servants to arrive. “Not as good as yours,” she murmurs to me with a hint of mischief in her voice.
Finally, another fae staff member appears, ushering four other figures into the room. There are two men and two women, all dressed in fae clothes that look a little rougher than what any of the fae staff we’ve seen have.
They come to a stop in the middle of the room, and the fae man gestures to us. “These are our guests,” he tells the servants. “They would like to speak with you. Please answer their questions.”
He steps back to the far wall to watch. One of the men stands still with obvious wariness in his stance, but the other man and both of the women gaze around them with vague bemused expressions I recognize in an instant. I’m so used to that demeanor that it didn’t even occur to me to mention it when I was talking with Talia about the humans here.
“Why do they look so out of it?” Talia asks. Any cheerfulness in her mood has snuffed out at the sight of them.
“Their meals will include a regular dose of some kind of faerie drug,” I say, my spirits sinking. “There are a few that have a calming and mildly euphoric effect. It helps keep them happy.”
Talia shivers. “Because otherwise they’d be upset about being stolen from their homes.”
The fae man speaks up hastily. “We only bring over those who’ve joined in our revels in the human lands. They come to us of their own accord.”
Talia fixes her eyes on him. “But they can’t know when they join a revel that they’re giving their whole lives away. And it isn’t exactly their ‘own accord’ when there’s fae magic involved.”
The man’s gaze darts from her to me and back again, as if he’s not sure who he should be addressing or how much he should even say. “It’s how we’ve always done things,” he says haltingly. “We see that they have everything they need.”
Food and clothing and an occasional bath, he means. Talia doesn’t need to speak for me to know what she’d be thinking—they’re tended to much like our pack-kin Elliot tends to his sheep.
Talia’s mouth has tightened, but she walks up to the row of figures, starting with the one at the farthest right. The woman’s glazed eyes settle on her without any change in her vague expression.
“What work do you do in the castle?” Talia asks, her voice heart-wrenchingly gentle.
“I keep the kitchen clean,” the woman says in a flat voice. “All the surfaces shining. That’s what they ask, and that’s what I do.”
“And when the kitchen’s already clean?”
The woman blinks as if she doesn’t understand the question. “There’s always something else that needs to be wiped down or polished. So much cooking and baking. When it’s done for the night, then I sleep.”
Talia’s hands clench at her sides. I don’t know whether I want more to yank her away from this confrontation or rage at the fae who’ve taken these humans. Neither is really an option.
She moves down the line, talking to a man who spends his days cleaning and mending clothes for the other servants and staff—because I’d imagine Lady Gullven sees that job as a waste of the Heart’s magic—and the other woman, who alternates between fishing in a nearby lake and looking after the castle’s garden. Scars from the hooks and lures she uses mottle her fingers.
She also has a bruise on her cheek. When Talia asks her about that, she raises her hand to it and only says, without a hint of emotion, “I wasn’t listening well enough.”
I wince inwardly.
When Talia reaches the one man who appears to still have his wits, his posture tenses even more than before. She studies him for a moment. “They don’t make you take the faerie drugs.”
“No,” he says. “It would interfere with the work Lady Gullven expects me to do.”
“And what’s that?”
His jaw flexes. He might not be in the grips of a drug-induced haze, but I’m sure he’s discovered the consequences of saying anything critical of his “employers.”
He draws in a rough breath. “I’m an artist. I paint for her. Some of them she keeps; some I think she uses as gifts or similar purposes.”
Talia seems to weigh her next words carefully. “You don’t look all that happy about it. Did you want to come here? Why have you stayed?”
His mouth twists into a wry grimace. “I had a gallery, back home. Lady Gullven happened to wander into it one day—I’m not sure how she ended up there. She must have liked my style, because she invited me to come paint for her. She showed me how she could make the images I created come alive with magic, all the effects I could incorporate with the enchanted supplies she could give me… I made a deal with her. I don’t think I totally understood—I can’t go home until I’ve fulfilled it.”
“What would fulfill it?” Talia asks.
“That’s at Lady Gullven’s discretion.”
I’m familiar with those kinds of bargains. It’s a common fae trick to stealthily make the terms dependent on their approval in a way that works in their favor, so they get to decide when the deal is over no matter what the other party does. Not a single one who extends an offer like that doesn’t recognize that they’re exploiting the person on the other end. They simply don’t care.
Talia asks a few more questions of each of the servants and then tells the fae man that she doesn’t want to bother them anymore. As we walk out to the stables, her face stays pensive. I long to reach for her, but I doubt there’s any way to comfort her distress away.
And it’s not just distress. I can see the determination forming behind her eyes at the same time. My chest tightens with unspoken thoughts.
I was afraid that seeing the way many of the fae treat her kind might drive her away. Maybe the real problem is the opposite. Now she has yet another cause she’ll feel she has to champion, another duty weighing down on her… when she might be better off if we’d let her go home after all, away from the pressures and dangers of our world.
Am I showing my love by fighting to have her stay here, or would a truly loving mate be encouraging the opposite?
