I awoke late the next day feeling sick and dehydrated. I had cried most of the night, unsure when unconsciousness finally took over. Even sleep had not been a relief. I dreamed of Casper, his charming smile turning into something cruel as he told me I was no longer human, all while I begged him to say it wasn’t true.
Drusia flew in through the window around midmorning, but I scared her away quickly enough, screaming for her to leave until she finally did.
Lorella stopped by briefly, knocking on my door, but left without much fight when I yelled through the door, demanding to be left alone. I admitted no one that day, though Drusia must have had the courage to return, as there was a plate of fruit and cheese outside my door. But I had no appetite. I laid in bed, my mind racing for a solution, a way out, a fix. I had always found an answer before, but this time my mind drew blank after blank. I was finally facing a problem I couldn’t scheme my way out of.
By late evening, I felt resigned to my fate, or perhaps simply numb with exhaustion. I could almost feel grateful that Casper would be all right, even if I could never see him again, though thinking about that made pain surge in my chest. At one point, I considered asking Casper to relay a message from me to my brothers, telling them I was fine, even if it was a lie. But when I thought about what I would say to Casper, tears pricked at my eyes, even long after I thought I was too dried out to cry. I pushed the thought away.
It was late into the night, well past midnight, when a knock came from my door. I hadn’t been able to sleep. When my yells for them to go away didn’t stop the tap tap tap on my door, I finally forced myself to get out of bed and see who was there.
I rested my fingers on the branches of the door. “Who is it?” I had no desire for another visit from Elrik.
“It’s me.” I heard Pel’s voice on the other side. “Can I come in?”
“And if I tell you to go away?” I asked, but there was no force in my voice. I was too worn out.
“Then I shall wait here till you change your mind.”
Too tired to argue, I opened the door.
“It’s late.”
“Late enough to discourage prying eyes. Most of the court is still at tonight’s feast. May I come in?” He smiled then, a tentative, hopeful smile that I’d seen on him before, back when he wanted me to run away with him, away from the Rose Palace. Back when I thought him a friend who might one day be more. It reminded me how exquisitely handsome he was. I carefully opened the door and gestured for him to come inside.
He settled into one of the elegantly carved chairs and tension radiated from him. Not bothering to pull up a chair for myself. I leaned on my cane, meeting his summer-green eyes.
“My brother told me he took you to the Aqueno Prison.”
“And Casper wants nothing to do with me now that I’ve turned into this.” I gestured at my face, thinking about how my brown eyes were now gold, with strange, catlike pupils, my teeth too sharp, and my skin strangely glowing. I missed everything that made me human, even my straw-colored hair, now turned white. “I’m a monster.” The heat had left my voice, leaving only the bitter ring of truth and resentment.
“Your king is a fool if he does not want you now.”
I let out a small laugh, devoid of humor. “And yet I still love him.”
Pel studied me a moment longer, but finally he said, “I want to show you your father.”
For a moment I was at an utter loss for words. I flashed back to a time long ago, a memory of my father as he said his goodbyes to us before leaving for the war. Had he actually returned to the fay realms, living here in secret this whole time? Sensing my confusion, Pel clarified.
“There is a portrait of him in the royal gallery. I thought it might help you feel . . .” he trailed off before finding the right words. “Maybe if you saw your father from when he lived with us, you would feel less like a monster. And perhaps you can start to see the Forest Court as your home.”
The brief burst of hope within me withered and died, the pang of losing my father feeling cut afresh. Torn between wanting to send Pel away and a new curiosity to see this part of my father’s life, anything to feel a bit closer to the family I used to have, I gave in.
“Show me.”
Pel said nothing as I threw on a cloak, patiently waiting for me by the door. We headed down the hallway, our progress slow.
“My brother was wrong to do that to you,” he said, looking at my cane, his usually soft voice made hard by something fiercer.
I stopped. “Are you upset that now I am one of your precious fay?” I asked.
“No. Sitano is a dangerous drug. It could have killed you, even with you being half fay.”
“I know,” I said in a tone that I hoped would end this line of conversation. I tried to avoid thinking about the blur of time after Elrik had forced me to take the drug. The time when the fever burned so brightly I was sure I would ignite and there would be nothing left of me but ash.
But I did survive, I reminded myself.
We walked in silence after that, down several hallways made of branches and roots, the walls a patchwork of leaves and vines. I was again struck by how different this place was from the Rose Palace, all marble and glass and stone. Despite the name, the roses were a motif, where here, plants were the palace. I tried to keep track of where we were going but didn’t think I would be able to find my room again by the time Pel led me into a large chamber, high above the ground.
“Here it is,” he said, gesturing that I should go inside. The room was large and long, lit by glowing crystals embedded into the vines that clung to the walls and ceiling, bathing the room in a cool, bluish glow. As I entered, I noticed that portraits hung along the walls in ornate frames. Stepping closer to the first one, I realized that the paintings were not hung, but rather the walls themselves had grown branches in intricate patterns that formed the frames for the paintings, holding them close to the walls. I reached out and gently touched the closest branch frame, my fingers running along the smooth, winding wood of the interlacing branches.
Though the light of the glowing stones was dim, I could clearly see the faeries in each of the portraits thanks to improved vision with my new fay eyes. I focused on the faces staring back at me. There were dozens of portraits in the room, each majestically staring ahead. It reminded me of the royal portraits in the Rose Palace, but those paintings all depicted the royals of Reynallis, humans with jet hair and dark eyes. Men and women holding roses and looking somehow both delicate and fierce. And there was the one of Casper, his handsome face seeming to smile at the onlooker. I remembered the way he smiled at me, a humor lighting up his eyes.
Don’t think about him, I reminded myself.
He was as lost to me as my dead father. I focused on the faerie images in front of me. All the royals had a sharp beauty. I would have thought the artist was being generous had I not seen the living fay. I walked down the aisle of royals, their luminous skin glowing from the strange rock light. At the beginning of the hall, I recognized no one, though snow-white hair and sapphire cat eyes were common even with these ancestors.
“Can fay die of old age?” I asked.
“Indeed,” Pel answered. “Though our lives are so much longer than humans, it can seem as though we are immortal.”
“I see,” I said, still staring at the portraits. A part of me felt relieved by his answer. I didn’t want to die, but somehow knowing I would made me feel almost more human. But then again, I wasn’t entirely fay. “What about half fay?”
Pel studied me for a long time before answering. “It varies. Some live as long as the fay, and others have short, human-like lives.”
“How will I know which I am?”
Pel shrugged. “There is no way to know, at least not until decades have passed. Both fay and humans age at the same rate until their third or even forth decade. Aging for fay slows down at that point. You shall just have to live your life and let time tell.”
My lip twitched up. Strange as it sounded, I liked his answer. If I didn’t know, I could hold out hope that I was still somewhat human.
“Besides, if we fay never died, there would be no need for succession,” Pel added, almost as an afterthought.
“I hadn’t considered that,” I admitted, walking between the portraits of royal fay.
Pel chuckled softly, but without malice. “Then you are the first heir who never has.”
“It’s not something I asked for,” I said, but was only partially paying attention to him. I was reaching the point where I recognized the faeries on the wall. Marasina was there, painted in her silver armor, shining and fierce. In a portrait next to her was one of a faerie I didn’t recognize, but its proximity to her made me certain it was her late husband. Unlike her, he wore no armor, but a cloak of forest green and a doublet underneath it of sunflower yellow. There was something familiar in his face.
“She replaced her portrait after King Velario was killed. She wasn’t in armor in her original painting.”
I was about to ask Pel more when I spied the next portrait. Displayed between the paintings of King Velario and Valente was my father. Though he looked so different from the man who raised me, I could tell it was him. My breath hitched as I felt my heart squeeze tight. His skin was paler with the illumination that came from golden fay blood, his ears reached up to points and his eyes were not round pupils, but slitted cat ones, but it was still him. His teeth were sharper, but his smile was still warm, as though he had a joke or a tale he could not wait to share.
I stared into his eyes, eyes that were the same deep blue I remembered. These were the eyes I gazed upon as a child, when he would tell stories by the fire, stories of strange and magical creatures. Stories of his own childhood, I now knew. I could almost hear him calling me to come inside after a day of riding our mill horses, his voice caramel and love.
“My little Nor, whatever shall I do with such a wild child like you? Can’t you be sweet like your sister?” he once asked when I came home muddy from playing by the river.
But there was so much love in his voice that I simply beamed with pride and said, “No Papa. You need a wild child in case the faeries come for you. I will scare them away.” Then I growled, pretending to be the mud monster I looked like.
My father didn’t say anything for a moment, before he scooped me up in his strong arms, holding me close despite the mud. “I will never let that happen, my wonderful girl,” he promised, holding me tight.
“Nor?”
I turned to Pel, but at his concerned expression I quickly pivoted away. I hadn’t realized I was crying but now wiped furiously at my cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Nor. I thought seeing him would help you feel more at home here.” Pel’s voice was contrite, and I felt guilty that I ruined his kind gesture.
“I miss them. I miss them all so much,” I confessed, thinking of everyone I had lost. My parents and sister were dead, my brothers unreachable and Casper gone as well. Even my own body was a stranger to me. I started crying harder, sobbing as I stared at the portrait of my father. Missing him and angry he kept all this from me, my heart crumbled from the loss.
Long arms wrapped around me, Pel pulling me close. I let him draw me in, crying into his chest until I was spent, until I had emptied as much pain as I could. As my tears dried, I felt calmer, a bit lighter for having let it all out. The whole time, Pel held me, not saying a word. This close, I could feel his heart beating in his chest, reminding me of the golden blood that ran in his veins. The same kind of blood that now ran in mine. I tried to inhale, wanting the forest smell that was Pel, but my nose was clogged from crying. I pushed back slightly, feeling very vulnerable after such a display.
“Here.” Pel held out a handkerchief and I accepted it, rubbing at my eyes and blowing my nose.
I looked up at my father’s painting. “The people I love the most keep leaving me.” I thought again about Casper, staring at the floor as he exiled me from his life, my misery almost making me cry again. Instead, Pel reached for my hands, slender fingers intertwining with my own.
“This can be your true home, Nor. You are your true self now. And I won’t leave you.”
I focused on Pel’s bright green eyes, staring so intensely at me. I closed my eyes, but I saw Casper’s face, dark eyes and easy smile. He doesn’t want me, I reminded myself. I couldn’t shake the image of him, nor how much my heart ached. I was suddenly hotly angry at Casper, furious he would abandon me. I wanted to forget, wanted to be wanted, even if I wasn’t loved. I leaned toward Pel, until he was a mere breath away.
I took a deep breath, thinking how sweet it would be to get lost in a kiss, for a blissful moment of forgetting. I moved to close the space between us, but my lips met his fingers.
I opened my eyes. Pel gently lowered his hand but stepped away from me. Hurt and humiliation washed over me.
“I’m sorry, Nor—” Pel started.
“No, I misunderstood. I thought you wanted—” but I couldn’t finish my sentence.
“I do want you, Nor.”
I stared at Pel, bewildered.
“But it’s clear your heart is elsewhere.” There was no malice to his words, only a tinge of sadness.
“Casper doesn’t want me,” I said, hating the words.
“That is his loss,” Pel said, his words gentle. “But I am not a distraction.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s all right, Nor. I know you are hurting. And I will be here for you, as long as you want me by your side. But for now, I can only be your friend. At least that is all I can be until your heart doesn’t long for someone else.” With that, he reached for my hands, squeezing them in his.
We stood like that for a long time. Eventually, the humiliation and the anger drained from me, and I was left feeling exhausted, but also relieved. I hadn’t truly wanted to kiss Pel, I had wanted to forget Casper, to get back at him for hurting me. But here, I had a friend, and that made me smile, even if it was a weak and watery one.
“Thank you, Pel.”