“I told your steward what was happening. How many of you did the same?"
Nearly all of them step forward again. All their eyes are now on Ellisar. "How many of us got an audience?"
Every last one of them takes a step back. "How many of us got any help of any kind?"
They all step back again. I look at the king and shrug. "What were we to think, your Majesty? So many of us, with the same problem, refused so many times? No help in sight, no offer of aid. I used the only tool I had at my disposal to cut off the food supply that was fueling the war.”
Frustrated, the king nods.
Ellisar waves his hand at his guards and gestures to the steward. They drag him away, still protesting his innocence. The king then shifts his focus back to me. “Yávi? Mairi? Andún?, three hundred and eighty-six duels are still too many, even with extenuating circumstances. Based on what I’ve learned today, I don’t hold you solely responsible for that, but you still need to be punished. Yávi? Mairi? Andún?, I revoke your honor name. I will give you a task, and if you complete it, you can have it back. I will send for you when I have your task.”
I wouldn’t piss on this king right now even if he were on fire. I’d probably find something to toast in the flames and snack on while I watch him burn. What task does he think he can give me that I will complete for him? You want to take the name you never wanted to give me, so be it. I can’t see myself ever doing anything for Ellisar again. Unless, of course, Ellisar asks me to end him. That’s a task I wouldn’t mind doing. Such feelings are treason, so I keep my words to myself, but I’m sure he can sense my rage.
I turn to leave, and the king clears his throat loudly. I didn’t bow or ask permission, mainly because at this point, I am all out of fucks to give. I take a moment to lean into my feral side, entering full hunter mode. My control is enough to prevent me from killing him outright as long as he doesn’t threaten me physically. I turn back to face the king, grinning widely. That grin is a threat among us, a promise of violence. My double row of sharp, pointed teeth is fully on display, along with the slitted pupils, extra knuckles, and fully extended claws.
I draw out the necessary phrasing and bow. I take extra care to enunciate each syllable, spitting generously to shape the words around the extra row of teeth. Eyes wide, he dismisses me. Now he knows how I feel about him. While I might still respect the office, I no longer respect the man holding it. The entire court now knows my opinion of the king. I’m far from alone in calling him Ellisar the Asshat in private. The raw truth is that Ellisar the Asshat had to have known what his steward was up to.
I have no illusions about the steward acting without Ellisar's knowledge, and if he did, then Ellisar is a complete fool who shouldn’t be king. I know that Ellisar isn't a fool, so he must have known and chosen not to help us. The question is why. I push all these thoughts aside as I stop in the hallway, lean against the wall, and focus on regaining control so I can shift back as much as possible. Gradually, my pupils return to normal, and my second row of teeth retract, while my hands and feet become more normal.
Once I'm calm, I head outside, away from this place. The male I didn’t recognize earlier, the one who gave his testimony, is waiting for me and wants to talk. A friendly face for once, and one that doesn’t reek of fear, thank the gods, so I stop to chat. Having been around each other in such close quarters for years, all in the same shifted state, we don’t often fear each other. He’s large and powerfully built, with dark hair and sea-grey eyes. He reminds me of Wyn, and that makes me a little sad.
I miss Wyn. Wyn and I weren’t in love, but he was my best friend. This male, who is not Wyn, gives me a friendly smile. “We haven’t met before. I’m Ruvaen Vacan. Maybe you’ve heard of me? I was part of a war band responsible for patrolling farther north than yours. I’m excited to finally meet you. You avenged my village, and I’m truly grateful for that."
I wave him off, “I did it to stop those creatures from breeding. I made a promise to some girls that I couldn’t free on my own."
He nods, “I know. We’ve all heard the story about your oath. We’re all home now because of you. If it had been left to Ellisar the Asshat, we’d still be fighting. We understand that you can’t be involved in this, but some of us will finish your work. We will make sure your promise is kept.”
“That’s a good thing,”
I sigh heavily, “My only regret is not being able to keep my promise to those girls. I promised them I’d get every last one of those heinous sons of banshees.”
He pats my arm, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll get them for you.” “Someone needs to,”
I shrug, “Ellisar doesn’t have the guts for it, and he’s clearly not going to let me do what needs doing.”
He laughs at this. “No one trusts Ellisar to do much of anything. We’ll start mobilizing the protest about him taking your name.”
Stolen story; please report.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I doubt it will do much good. Ellisar isn’t known for changing his rulings.”
Ruvaen nods. “He’s not. We’ve all been looking into this for a long time now. I think you hit rather close to the bone in court today.”
I pat his arm and try to reassure him. “I smelled the rage in you when you were talking. Thank you for coming, for trying to help.”
Ruvaen shrugs. “When the truth about all this finally comes out, I doubt I’ll be the only one stinking of rage. I imagine you’ll be incandescent with rage. I think many of us will. It’s truly a shame about your name, though.”
Ruven reaches out slowly, waiting to see how I react, and fingers a strand of my multi-colored hair. Most Fey have at least a streak or two of a second color, with darker shades of green and blue being the most common. My hair is shades of red, orange, and yellow, like fall leaves. “Your name suited you so well. It suited you in so many ways.”
When I don’t shy away from him and I remain calm, Ruven steps closer. “I don’t know if you’ve heard this, but touch and sex in particular can help people like you—those who are still stuck—to shift back. I’ve seen it help many of us. I know how it sounds. I know what you’re thinking. You might think I’m just trying to sleep with the great Yávi? Mairi? Andún? so I can brag about it at the tavern, but I swear there’s more to it than that. I’d never tell anyone. It pains me to see you stuck in this situation when the solution is so simple. Let me help you.”
I sniff, and he’s aroused, but I don’t think I’m interested.
Something in his scent says, “not for me.”
His scent isn’t unpleasant. It’s a mix of wood smoke, leather, spice, and musk, but I don’t find it all that appealing. I laugh, but this doesn’t seem to offend him. I tell him that I’m too tired for this today and that I will think about it.
He shrugs and says, “If not me, then find yourself another male that’s not afraid of you. That’s not always an easy thing for those who are stuck to find someone who’s willing and unafraid. That’s why I offered. Let me know if you change your mind.”
Ruvaen tells me where to find him if I do before he prowls away into the streets. Sighing, I turn my steps toward my parents’ house. I don’t want to listen to the abuse on one of the canal boats that pass for public transportation here. Given the stresses of the day, I might lose it if someone on the boat starts with snide remarks or if there’s too much fear. Instead of risking an incident, I choose to walk all the way from the palace back to my parents’ house. I used to love this place, with its charming shops, picturesque neighborhoods, and tree-lined streets.
However, lately, I've found that I no longer care for it much. This place was once my home, but it no longer feels like one. Home is a place where you feel comfortable, but I haven't felt at ease anywhere lately. Today feels worse than usual because I am exhausted. Today has completely drained me. I walk carefully, trying to avoid other pedestrians as I go. As I start across the bridge over one of the canals, I notice something unusual. There's a human walking along the canal.
I know there’s a trade delegation of humans here. I’ve been leading teams of guards to protect them. None of us feral ones are allowed to reveal ourselves, but there are enough of us who aren’t feral to prevent them from making stupid mistakes. It seems that they’re worried that we might upset the humans, just as we upset everyone else. I’ve heard stories of humans but never seen one for myself. I’m curious, so I angle my path a bit to get a better look at this one. I think this one is male, but I don’t know enough to be sure of that.
If he were Fey, he’d definitely be male. He’s speaking to someone and looking down at them. He’s a bit on the shorter side, at least for a Fey. Thickly built with plenty of muscle, and he moves like a swordsman, but the rounded ears tell me he’s human. He looks up, and his eyes meet mine. Here I stand on a bridge, my gaze locked with a male I feel I should know but don't. He is human, and I realize I’ve never met one before. For the first time in a long while, the seething restlessness and furious relentlessness inside me fall silent.
I am calm. I haven't been calm in a very long time. It's a strange feeling, and it takes me a moment to realize that this is what calm feels like. Locking eyes is often a challenge among the Fey. Smiling with teeth is a threat. Some vocal sounds are either a threat or a sign of submission. Body posture can also signal impending violence or submission. We also have our sense of smell. At the heart of everything, we are apex predators. This man, this human, walks among us and isn’t afraid, even of my feral state.
What does that make him? Now, I am even more curious. His heart rate says he’s excited, not fearful. His scent says he’s aroused and not afraid in the least. Feral as I am, constantly in hunter mode, even most of my own kind fear me. He’s almost the size of a Fey male and every bit as gloriously masculine. I wonder what it would be like to be tucked in close against such a male. My arousal kicks in, and I see his nostrils flare, seeming to scent me in return. I didn’t think humans could smell as well as they do.
At least, that’s what I’ve heard anyway. Why do I feel like I should know him? And that he should know me? How could we possibly know each other? A trade cart rumbles between us, breaking the line of sight. When it finally passes, he’s gone, and I suppress a tinge of sadness at that. I’d like to have spoken with him, I think. If nothing else, I just wanted to get a closer look. Many of us returned from the border wars in this state. We stayed in hunter mode for so long, we've forgotten how to switch back, so they call us feral.
The army released us and sent us home, without caring whether we could adapt or not. My family has no idea how to help me. They fear me, and their fear's scent doesn’t help at all. I need to be calm to shift back, but I am never calm. During the war, there was no such thing as calm. We fought nearly every night and sometimes during the day. Now that the war is over, there’s nowhere to escape the constant smell of fear. None of us can stay calm, smelling fear. Our feral shift triggers a fear response in most who encounter us, so we remain trapped in this state.
I’ve spent far too many centuries waiting for something to leap out and try to kill me along with everyone nearby. I’m young for a Fey since I haven’t reached my first thousand years yet. I’m seven hundred and forty-six. I spent seven hundred and twenty-three years fighting those nightmares that haunted our border before the war ended.
Court politics ignite, tempers flare, truths unravel, and Yávi? begins—finally—to have moments of calm and connection that she desperately deserves.
Should she have taken Ruvaen up on his offer?
