Celine spent a week in bed, recovering from her burn-out. Bella regularly brought her snacks and came to keep her company. Celine apologized multiple times for Bella getting shot, who told her she shouldn’t feel responsible or guilty because she was not the one who had shot her.
The image of the assassin hanging in the dungeons, kept upright by the brutal chains, haunted Celine. Whenever she closed her eyes, that was what she saw. She pictured his blood spilling over his chest and staining her hands red. She had killed Valeska, and she had killed the assassin. She was a murderer and not much better than the Fata. Caynin had been wrong about her.
She could still see Dagan standing in the dungeon without a flicker of guilt on his face. He didn’t mind punishing his enemies; maybe he even enjoyed it. Would he hurt her should she ever get on his bad side?
She dined with him every night, and he was back to his usual charming self. They laughed together, and Dagan gifted her several books that she read in her room. One was about the Moon World, and she learned that Elves’ promises were binding. If they made a promise and broke it, they would die. Also, if one were to win a duel with an Elf, they would receive a gift, and the Elves would consider it a great insult if the gift was refused or disposed of. Tarragon had gained the No-Name sword as a gift when he won.
“I sent word to the Everblossom Kingdom,” Dagan said one night during dinner. “I demanded Tarragon’s head.”
“Did Severin respond?” Celine wondered.
“Not yet,” Dagan replied.
Celine wasn’t sure what to expect from Severin. She only knew what others had told her – he was ambitious. She hoped he was a good ruler and that he would take good care of everyone in her kingdom. He would be better than Tarragon. It was not difficult to be better than Tarragon.
“I wonder why he has not responded,” she said.
Dagan shrugged. “He must be very busy trying to control everyone.”
“What do you mean?” Celine asked.
“Not everyone in the kingdom supports his rule. There are a few who still support Tarragon and some who support you.”
That was a surprise. Other than Bella, and maybe Ulric, she didn’t think any of the Fata would ever bow before a mortal Princess. How many followers did she have, and did they even stand a chance to get her on the throne? Maybe Dagan believed they did – which meant he would still want to marry her and gain power in her kingdom.
She would never marry him.
She took a bite of her salad and studied his sharp cheekbones and playful eyes. He was like a wildfire, truly breathtaking from afar, but if you were to get too close, you’d get burnt.
“What’s on your mind, Princess?” he asked.
“I just thought we’d get information out of Tarragon first,” she said.
“Tarragon won’t help us,” Dagan responded.
“I thought everyone has a breaking point,” she pressed.
Dagan dropped his fork and focused all his attention on her. “Are you saying I should torture him? How quickly you came around.”
“I didn’t say that,” she said.
“You implied it.”
Yes, she had implied it. The idea of Tarragon being tortured didn’t bother her. She felt nothing for the male – no pity, empathy, or sympathy. He was a heartless monster who had murdered her parents and tried to murder her. She turned her face away from Dagan as she didn’t want him to see the hatred in her eyes.
Then she got up from the table. “Goodnight, Dagan.”
He didn’t reply but watched her go. She often felt like those emerald-green eyes could see through her. She had to remind herself that he could not read her thoughts, and he did not know her plans.
When she reached her room, she closed the door behind her. She had to speak with Tarragon. She had to know how he had beaten the Elf Prince in a fight. If she didn’t get this information, she’d travel to the Moon World and fail. She knew almost nothing about the Elves. She didn’t know what they liked or disliked. She didn’t know what they valued or despised. She didn’t know their rules or their ways.
Thus far, Celine had only opened portals to places she had been and could visualize. Her magic had once been in a key, and it could open a door to anywhere. She should also be able to do that if she focused.
She closed her eyes and told herself she wanted to go to the Dark House. She had healed after this week and was almost back to normal. She was strong enough to open a portal.
When Celine looked again, the portal opened in front of her. The only thing she took with her was the iron knife she had left in her drawer.
She stepped out of the portal and into the Everblossom Kingdom – into rain. Lightning danced and thunder applauded, as if celebrating the return of their Princess. It was strange to think that she had lived here as a baby. The only other time she had returned was when she had used the Globetrot-tree to go to the Lake of Lost – back then she had not been able to explore much of her kingdom.
Celine took in her surroundings, to make sure she was safe, before closing the portal behind her. She was standing at the edge of the water where she had a view of the Everblossom castle. It was to her right, and it was magnificent. Celine had a hard time determining which castle was the prettiest. This one – hers – had sharper edges than the other two kingdoms’ but had fewer towers. It had a wall by the cliffs, close to the ocean, with various rooms, patios, and balconies which must have amazing views. The castle’s pinks, grays, whites, blues, and yellows swirled together like a whirlwind of blossoms.
To the left of the castle was ocean, and far out stood a tower – like a lighthouse. It was so distant that she almost missed it. The structure appeared abandoned and truly forgotten. Celine’s feet were sinking away in the sand, and she pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. Within minutes, it looked as if she had gone for a swim in the ocean.
The wind howled, and she regretted not wearing something warmer. There was time to go back, but she was too impatient. In front of her was a small ferry tied to a single dock. The way it bobbed made Celine fear that the rough waves would wash it onto the shore.
Celine didn’t see the point in taking the ferry as she could open portals to anywhere, but the moment she closed her eyes and tried to open a portal to the tower, she realized some sort of magic blocked her. The ferry was the only way to the Dark House.
Someone was on the ferry, and she waved her arms to catch his attention. “Hey!” she cried, but the wind blew her words away.
She waded into the water to reach the boat, despite the waves threatening to knock her over. She gripped the edges of the ferry hard and looked into the eyes of the ferrymale.
His eyes were gray and dull, like those of a man who had no soul. His skin was also gray – not glowing with immortality and health like the other Fata. His hair was long, white, and braided. Despite the heavy rain, he was dry, as if it were a sunny day. Unlike Celine’s his hair was not flapping around uncontrollably in the wind. But the main thing that caught Celine’s attention was his wings. They were big, black, and wrapped around him like a cloak. Hooks on the top resembled those on bat wings.
“Hello!” she cried, hoping that he could hear her. She was not foolish enough to jump into his boat without permission. He had claws for hands that could easily rip her apart. “I need a ride to the Dark House.”
“What is your name?” he asked without raising his voice.
“Celine LeVane!” she answered loudly as a wave almost knocked her over.
“You are not on the visitor list,” he responded calmly.
She didn’t see a visitor list anywhere and doubted paper would survive the storm. Maybe he had it memorized, or he denied her because she was an inferior human.
“I need to go there anyway,” she said. The boat bobbed, and Celine fought hard to keep her grip on it.
“Then you will have to pay me,” he said.
Celine did not have any gold or silver with her. “If you give me a few minutes, I can go home and get gold.”
“I don’t want gold,” the ferrymale said.
Celine wiped saltwater and rain out of her eyes. She was shivering, and the iron knife was heavy in her pocket. “Do you prefer silver?”
“I want no such payment,” the ferrymale said.
It was amazing how still he sat on the boat. He was peaceful and harmonious, while the world around him was chaos.
“What is it you want from me?” she asked, although she knew better than to bargain with him.
“I want a tooth,” he responded.
“A tooth?”
He nodded. “Your right canine.”
Celine touched her mouth instinctively. She most certainly didn’t want to give up her tooth. She couldn’t understand why he would want a human tooth. It was not sharp and deadly like those of the Fata.
“Is there nothing else I can give you?” she asked him.
“No,” he said. “Now make up your mind. I don’t have all day.”
His rudeness had caught Celine off guard. She looked around and doubted he had anything better to do than to bargain with her. She felt the iron knife, in her pocket, and considered threatening him with his life. The last time Celine had fought a Fata it had been the assassin, and that hadn’t gone so well. She decided against it.
“What do you possibly want my tooth for?” she asked.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Are you going to turn it into a powder and snort it?” she snapped. “I doubt that would make you more cheerful.”
She looked into his determined gray eyes and decided that she could not change his mind. Celine wasn’t vain, but she still didn’t like to picture herself without a front tooth. She tried not to think about it as she said, “Fine. Take it.”
The ferrymale reached down, and she opened her mouth. He grabbed her tooth between his thumb and index finger and pulled it as easily as if it were a hair from her head. Celine couldn’t help but cry out. She watched in horror as he studied her tooth before he stuck it into his pocket.
She covered her mouth with both hands. She hadn’t expected it would hurt so much. She wished she had painkillers with her and considered quickly opening a portal home. But then the ferrymale extended his hand, and she had to take it now. She reached a bloody hand toward his, and he pulled her into the boat. She was thankful for the rain because it hid her tears. The Fata admired strength, and she didn’t want the ferrymale to know that she was crying.
There was water in the ferry by her feet. Some sort of magic prevented it from filling up. Blood mixed with the rain and dripped down Celine’s chin.
The ferrymale reached for the oars at his sides and began rowing. Celine exhaled loudly as she realized the journey would be slow. The rain fell onto her like heavy stones, and the wind cried in her ears. She put pressure on her gum and tried not to focus on the pain. As a child, she hadn’t believed in the tooth fairy. She had considered the whole concept ridiculous. Faeries weren’t real – and if they were, what would they want with a tooth? She used her imagination to come up with solutions – maybe they built their houses with them. Maybe they used them in a stew. And now, that her tooth had been taken by a real faerie, she couldn’t think of a single thing he would do with it.
“What are you going to do with my tooth?” she asked the ferrymale.
He stared blankly before him and didn’t answer. He didn’t speak a single word to her for the entire trip. The lightning flashed and made his pale skin look like bones. She sat as far as possible from him – in the bow of the ferry.
The waves rocked the boat violently, and Celine feared they would flip and drown. She gripped the edges and in doing so, she took the pressure off her aching gum. They reached the circular stone deck that was built around the tower. The ferrymale steered the ferry to its edges.
Without thanking him, Celine disembarked. It was raining so hard she could almost not see anything. The Dark House resembled a lighthouse – just wider, with an arched doorway by which she could enter. Desperate to get out of the rain, Celine rushed toward it. Had the wind blown the door off its hinges?
Once she entered through the arch, she was inside the cold, dark tower. There were no torches with only small holes in the walls to let in the air. Barred windows held cracked glass, and a spiral staircase went up and up and up…. Celine ascended, and every so often, she could stop and access a cell. She passed three empty ones, and when she reached the cell in the top of the tower, she stopped.
Tarragon sat with his back against the wall and his eyes closed. His legs were stretched out in front of him, one resting on top of the other. His beard and bushy hair were tangled and dirty, his clothes were torn, and rain entered his cell from the holes in the walls. He wore a big, ugly ring on his finger, and although he was shackled, the very sight of him sent shivers down her spine.
Celine stepped away from the spiral staircase and took two steps toward his cell.
He slowly opened his eyes. “Princess Celine, I was wondering when you would come visit me.”