Chapter 8: Family Matters
1124 Words
I knew who to expect before I opened the door, but still I only had a moment to brace myself for the devastating stare from my uncle, the High Fae Lord Raelen, before I was face-to-face with him.
There's a reason mortals have always been awed by fae-folk in their full, true forms. Lord Raelen was nearly seven feet tall to mortal eyes—which mine, at the moment, were. His whole being shimmered with an opalescent brilliance, from the elegant folds of his long white cloak to the silver sheen of his long, slick hair. His face was a portrait of otherwordly dignity and nobility, with sharp, slanting cheekbones and cool silver-blue eyes.
Lord Raelen was one of my few true family members, my father's brother. He'd raised me, after my parents' deaths in my youth. He was my only real connection back to Faerie during my stint as a mortal away from home, as well as a High Lord of the Seelie Council. And he looked very, very angry.
I dipped a courtesy. “I greet you warmly, Uncle. Well met."
But the stormy rage on his face didn't abate in the slightest. “I have heard reports," he began, and his voice was icy, “of very unsavory contact. I trust these rumors are not true, child."
'Rumors,' I was sure, was a polite way of saying intelligence: Uncle Raelen had his spies everywhere, powerful magic users who would have alerted him the moment that I came within ten feet of an Unseelie. Of course. I should have anticipated this. But I had been too thrown and too preoccupied to consider who besides me might object to my new Unseelie connection.
“My apologies, Uncle," I said, keeping my head bowed in polite remorse. “I have tried to avoid contact, but there is a representative of the Unseelie in this city with whom I have been drawn into an unfortunate contractual bond."
I explained at length, knowing that Uncle Raelen would not take kindly to being spared the details. Raelen was one of the Seelie Court's highest and oldest representatives, a fae lord who had been one of the leaders of our court for time out of memory. That was why, despite my relative youth and my parentlessness, I was still permitted the prestige and rank that I was.
“I see," said my uncle as I concluded my story and, at last, raised my head. I couldn't read Lord Raelen's face: it was the same stony, ancient rage it had been minutes before. “This is not excusable, child."
I bowed my head again, heart pounding. If he commanded me, I would have to wish myself free of the contract. Or maybe he had already taken that step for me. My mind whirled. What if my mortal life was already doomed? Raelen would think nothing at all of recalling me to Faerie and ending my human adventure, even if it meant a grisly and untimely death. I would not, after all, truly die. But Cass and Toby…my heart hurt for them already.
“What shall I do, Uncle?" I asked, aiming for the picture of obedience.
To my shock, Raelen sighed heavily. The show of emotion was something I would only ever expect from him in private, and only very rarely. Figureheads did not generally have leeway to show their feelings freely.
“The forces of fate have not been kind to you," Raelen said at last. “Promises made by our people may not be lightly broken. Curses have followed families for centuries for such violations. You know the nature of a Faerie and their word: we always keep it. I must, though it grieves me, agree with the Unseelie. The kindness you showed that human child opened the door to this misadventure—By making that wish, by invoking magic, you allow magic the opportunity to balance the scales. To take a toll of energy or coincidence. And you are quite right in the contractual boundaries of this performance. However unpleasant, I do think that you are bound to do this 'stellar' show."
In any other circumstance, it might have been funny to hear the High Fae Lord pronounce the name of the famous concert series as if it were some unpronounceable foreign food. But I wasn't tempted to laugh.
“You know the consequences," said my uncle. “Curses have haunted Seelie for smaller breaches of their word."
“Yes, Uncle," I said, heart punching an anxious rhythm against my ribs. “I hear and obey."
“But, my child…Be careful with him," Raelen said, very gently. I hadn't heard him speak this way in a long time, not since my parents had lost their lives, a long time ago, just before Raelen took me in. “You know what fate befell your parents when they let their guard down around the Unseelie Court."
I looked at him, daring to meet his eyes for the first time. I saw real tenderness there. And real grief.
My parents, both Seelie fae, had not passed on to their next life of their own volition, as is customary with our people. In the usual way, a faerie who has lived many ages and wishes to release their energy into the next phase of being announces their decision, bids their farewells, and ceremonially departs. My parents were rare exceptions. They died by violence. At Unseelie hands.
The long lives of our people make murder more heinous even than human murder. A faerie might live for millennia; we don't die of natural causes, not in our true forms. We might perish of grief or by choice—but it is extremely rare to be forced to die.
This warning was not being made lightly. My uncle never spoke about his brother, my father, anymore. It hurt him too deeply.
“I understand, Uncle."
“Do you?" Raelen's face hardened again, but he didn't fool me. His eyes gave him away. “I will not lose you to some foolishness or Unseelie treachery, child. I shall be watching."
I smiled at him, letting my gratitude show. “I do truly appreciate that, Uncle."
“Blessings be with you, child." I felt the tug of magic as he took an elegant step backward, robe sweeping the floor, and like the fading of a dream into wakefulness, he was gone.
I breathed out with a heavy rush of relief, dropping into my next of blankets and pillows and feeling a thousand times better than I had just minutes before.
If Sy Dage tried to lay a finger on me again, Raelen would tear his head from his shoulders, rich and famous superstar or not.
- Writer
