Chapter Sixteen

Walking into Perch felt like I’d entered a renaissance fair. A well-worn path connected Featherstone to the Raven Court’s capital city not far from the lake. Buildings made of stone and straw, occasionally hardwood and shingles, lined streets wide enough for two horse carriages to pass each other going in opposite directions.

None of the buildings stood taller than two stories except for the headquarters of Varella’s feathers that were stationed in the city. Though with the festival, more feathers from the palace had been brought to the city to keep security intact.

The smells of fried bread, baked sweets, and roasted meat filled the streets as Lily and I walked toward the noise of celebration. We held hands, and it felt about as right as anything else since I’d arrived in Faerie.

I was still trying to make sense of my feelings. Was I truly head over heels for two different fae? My mind kept trying to convince me this was madness, but then I remembered I was a werewolf who’d traded her freedom for sanctuary in a land of magic and passion.

This was a dangerous world, but I was under the protection of a dark queen and an accomplished spy. Somehow, I figured I’d be okay so long as I kept a sensible head on my shoulders.

A few blocks away, the crowd started to thicken. Faeries played lutes, horns, and drums as bards sang about everything from the changing of the seasons to the long lives fae lived through, moment to moment.

“Hey, Lily?” I asked.

“Yes, Si?”

I squeezed her hand a little tighter. Since confessing my feelings, I’d come to enjoy her using my pet name even more. It was the way she addressed me as no one else could. Not even my mistress could use that name for me. Though I still melted when she called me her pet, so it’s not like the queen needed another nickname for me.

“What are dryads? And why is our queen throwing them a festival?”

The two of us walked past a couple of guys kissing passionately under a tree. Seems the festival had everyone supercharged. Perch’s air was buzzing with excitement and expectation. Something big was going to happen tonight.

“Dryads are nomadic tree elves. They’re not hard to spot,” Lily said. “They wander Faerie, tending to each forest, weeding out dead trees, and spreading new growth. Once a year, Queen Varella invites them to Perch for a festival in their honor to thank them for saving our forests.”

Faerie may not have internet access, but they understand the importance of taking care of this world’s environment. And to have people who made it their entire existence was kind of jaw-dropping.

I tried not to stare, but a dryad finally appeared, crossing the street to grab himself a caramel apple. His flesh was green, his tunic made of leaves sewn together and adorned with acorns and seeds. The elf’s eyes were a darker green than his skin, and he stood a whole foot taller than me. His limbs were lanky and looked like the branches of a tree, with tiny cracks in his flesh around the shoulders.

The dryad’s hair was a tangled mess of vines and roots, mostly brown and other earthy colors. And I didn’t spot any ears on the sides of his head. In their place, were two sticks that jutted up a couple of inches like little wooden antennae or horns.

That is definitely not Treebeard, I thought, looking away so I didn’t stare any longer than it took for me to check off the little box that said, “Saw dryad.”

Lily and I stepped through the crowd of fae. I got a few stares for being the only human in the city, but for the most part, the fae left us alone. Something told me they understood I wasn’t a vanilla mortal, but none of them had seen me in court yet as a bipedal creature.

They knew Varella had a werewolf somewhere in the castle, but thus far, outside of castle staff and a few feathers and talons, few had seen me like this.

So, right now, I was just some almost-normal human being led by my half-fae girlfriend through a festival, having a good time.

Perch’s town square was big enough to fit at least 30 city buses in, side-by-side, not that there were any such things here. The entire town center was packed with faeries and dryad carrying drinks, chomping on food, laughing, singing, and having a merry time.

Paper lanterns lit with purple and black fire hung from tall posts decorated with flowers and little bells that chimed when a breeze picked up. Vendors selling all sorts of clothing and food lined the square's east side. A small stage had been set up, where a string quartet was tuning their instruments.

I just beamed at the celebration before me. I’d never seen such a large party before. Even the Aroostook County Fair didn’t draw such a crowd, and it was the biggest event in northern Maine.

As we wove through the crowd toward the stage, I started to wonder what Lily had in mind. And when the music started, people immediately cleared out a large spot to dance on the cobblestones, pairings effortlessly moving in tune with the rhythm.

“Come on, slowpoke! Let’s go dancing,” Lily said, but I stopped, dread pasting itself on my face. I didn’t dance. My high school dances were embarrassing enough to shatter any hope of enjoying events that involved the cursed activity.

I mean, nobody dropped a bucket of pig’s blood on me at prom, but I fell enough while trying to sway with the music and got laughed at plenty. When I’m not on four legs, grace seems to elude me.

“Look, why don’t you dance? I’m not a great partner for it. I’ve got no left feet,” I said.

“Don’t you mean two left feet?”

“No, because that would imply my pitiful level of dance skill was merely embarrassing. The truth is, my dancing is a war crime. They convened a UN Council hearing and everything,” I said.

Lily crossed her arms.

“Dancing here is different. Fae weave their glamor into the notes and rhythms. So when you step on the dance floor, you just have to coast, and your body moves, carried by the magic of the musicians,” Lily said.

That sounded suspicious to me. Like, if these fae decided to be malevolent for even a day, I’d dance until my feet bled. But I’d seen something in Lily’s eyes that gave me confidence. She wouldn’t let that happen. Not in a million years. So I let her take my hand again.

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked.

She grinned as though she’d just eaten a canary.

“Same thing you always do. Submit to the top, and do as you’re told like the good girl that you are,” Lily said.

“Oh fuck y—“ I started to say, but she interrupted me by pulling me onto the dance floor. The bitch I’d given my heart to knew I couldn’t focus long enough to stay mad at her. Because exactly what she’d predicted came to fruition.

First, my submissive ass did whatever she motioned for me to do without question. Second, the music really did carry me along as I relaxed in her arms. The way it slipped under my skin and sang directly to my muscles and joints was unlike anything I’d ever witnessed before.

Lily and I spun, we carried on up and down the cobblestone, she twirled me, and I fell back into her arms. Others clapped around us. A dryad couple swung past us, and one of the girls winked at me. Their maple-leaf dresses clung tightly to them, held by magic or string or maybe both.

The songs blended, fast and slow, and eventually I found myself staring into Lily’s soft blue eyes. They looked back at me, offering me promises of all the tenderness and sweet moments I could ever want. And I realized there was one thing I wanted from her right here and now.

“Lily?” I asked.

“Hmmm?”

We kept dancing, but the tune was slower now, so I placed my head on her shoulder. I didn’t have the courage to look at her directly while I sought this one thing.

“Fae don’t often give oaths, do they?” I asked.

“No, Si. Not typically. So much of our power is bound up in the things we say we’ll do. Our kind learned long ago it’s easier to say less. Don’t weave as much rope to tangle yourself with,” she said.

Nodding, I realized that made my request all the more difficult. So now I owed her a direct gaze. Mustering the courage, I lifted my head and found her eyes once more.

“Be that as it may. I want a promise from you, please.”

Lily said nothing, waiting to hear what I would request.

“Give me your word that you’ll never ask me to choose between you and my mistress. I don’t think my heart could bear such a weight. It would shatter, and I’d die,” I said.

Surprise claimed a spot on the spy’s face. She considered my words. Was this an oath she could make safely? Was I worth it should this prove to be a risky maneuver?

“Would you choose her?” Lily asked, with not an ounce of malice in her voice. This was the spy dancing with me now, hiding her cards, keeping them so close to her chest they might as well have been in her rib cage.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly let it out and somehow found the bravery I needed to keep looking into her eyes.

“I couldn’t pick either of you, Lily. You both make me happy in wildly different ways. And I know it’s greedy. It’s selfish. It’s. . . so much. But I want both of you,” I said, feeling like my tongue wanted to jump onto the dance floor so someone could step on it after making such a request.

Lily’s face softened. Gradually, a smile returned to her lips. The spy vanished, and my girlfriend reappeared.

“Very well then. I give you my word that I will never ask you to choose between myself and our queen,” Lily said.

Relief flooded my heart until she pointed something obvious out.

“Of course, my oath alone is incomplete without the queen making a similar promise,” Lily said.

We finally stepped off the dance floor because my legs were shaking from exhaustion.

Maybe we should have stopped about two songs ago, I thought. But the Herculean effort it took to pull myself out of the tune was enough to drain me.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll ask her to make the same promise,” I said. “But regardless of how my mistress reacts, I don’t want you to have any doubts.”

Lily pulled me close, so close that our faces were almost touching. Electricity built between our bodies with each conquered millimeter we overtook.

With all the confidence and bravado my girlfriend could muster, she asked, “Doubts about what?”

She was going to make me say it.

“Doubts that I love you,” I almost whispered.

Time seemed to freeze around us as Lily’s lips met my own. I closed my eyes and sank into her embrace. Lily felt like home, like wherever she stood, so long as I was next to her, that was home. And I couldn’t believe I felt this way in such a short amount of time.

Then again, that was the lesbian way. If we didn’t have a UHaul ready after the first date, what even was the point? Pack your cats and clothes, and get settled. And if things didn’t work out, congrats. Your ex was now your new best friend.

Gods we’re predictable, I thought.

When our lips parted, and the fireworks inside my head paused for just a moment, Lily giggled.

“I don’t have any doubts about your love for me, Si. The way your eyes scream, ‘I would stand in line for 48 hours just to tell you hello’ is proof enough. I love you too. And before your human brain starts rattling off reasons about how this is too fast, let me remind you that we’re in Faerie, a land full of fickle eternals driven by passions from one second to the next. Your concept of love at first sight? Humans borrowed that from us.”

Learn something new every day, I thought.

Afterward, we found a series of picnic tables and sat down to finally eat. Roasted corn, turkey legs, a bowl of fruit, most of which I couldn’t identify but devoured all the same, it was a good meal. And then Lily brought over cupcakes with little tree designs in the frosting on top. Each sugary bite was a piece of Heaven.

Damn the fae can bake, I thought. Go fuck yourself, Paul Hollywood.

An hour later, we were back standing before the stage. My mistress appeared in a shimmering black and purple gown, her hair tied back by a thin chain decorated with black feathers. Her eyes painted dark and lips ruby red, the Raven Queen stood before a packed square and spoke. My heart soared at seeing her and blasted out into the universe hearing her.

“Our forests are lush and teeming with life. They surround and fortify our fair city, providing everything from food to protection for our fellow fae. And every patch of woods from Perch to Calson’s Bay exists at the mercy of our generous dryad siblings. Truly, we are humbled by the reverence for life and the ability to foster new growth that you all carry in your travels through Faerie. We honor you with this celebration and pray that you will bless us with another year of maintaining the forests, oh fair guardians of nature.”

As she spoke, my mistress showed, not vulnerability, but respect to the dryads gathered around the stage. I thought they numbered 50-100, but there was no way for me to get an official count. They smelled of soil and sap, foliage and nuts. It was earthy, the very stuff of life. And they carried it with them like any human might take a purse or a wallet.

“As a token of our gratitude for all that you do, I add a portion of my power to your own. May it serve you well in your journey among the oaks and birches,” my mistress said.

All at once, her mark on the side of my neck grew noticeably colder, and I felt her magic stirring in a huge way.

I’d witnessed her in a war zone. I’d felt her mark me and place her magic within me. But the motion I felt from her glamour now was so much bigger. She pulled glamour from within herself, a well I didn’t think would ever run dry. And while every fae standing near me could probably feel it to some degree, it passed through me in a way it didn’t for so many others.

My mistress’ magic resided within me, so when she tapped it, there were echoes within me of that power being used. And boy was she using much of it for her blessing upon the dryads now.

Then our queen did something I didn’t expect. She started to sing. Her voice, enhanced by royal glamour, carried across the square. Not a soul in the crowd failed to listen. My mistress had range for days, hitting notes from parts firmly in the range of tenor up to soprano.

And while she sang, I felt so very many things. I couldn’t tell if these were solely my emotions or if the queen’s feelings were clinging to us all.

The dryads closed their eyes and began to glow with a purple aura as my mistress’ glamour added to their own.

For several minutes she sang of gratitude for gifts we did not earn but nonetheless appreciated and the importance of pausing to reflect on the simple joys of taking an hour or two to walk through the woods and feel small in a giant world.

Her words rang true from the deepest roots to the tallest branches, and the queen’s song concluded with a personal connection to the dryads. For without the trees they selflessly gave to Faerie, there would be no place for ravens to build their nests.

Gods, she’s amazing, I thought, looking over and seeing the same wonderment on Lily’s face. That’s how you knew the queen’s song was an impressive event. My girlfriend had heard it every year, and it still moved her to tears. Wait, tears? Fuck, I was crying. I was overwhelmed.

There was just so much happening from the flowing glamour swirling around the crowd to the raw openness of our queen removing her heart and placing it on the stage for all of us to witness.

But my appreciation was cut short by a piskie landing on my right shoulder and whispering in my ear.

“Come quickly, royal pet. There’s trouble!”

Before I could process Barsilla’s words, she started to pull my hair a little, back toward Featherstone.

“Move it, wolf! You’re needed. Now!” She said.

It took a few seconds to pull my attention back from the queen’s raw power on full display, but eventually, the words of Varella’s left-hand lady sank in.

Lily was quicker to react than I was. She leaned over, and Barsilla whispered, “Lily! Find Ceras and tell them to rush back to the palace. Go now.”

My girlfriend wasted no time. Lily kissed me on the cheek, dropped my hand, and disappeared into the crowd with the maneuverability she could only have gained working for years as a wing.

I turned to move in the direction Barsilla indicated, but the crowd presented much more of an obstacle for me.

Varella was back to speaking again, but I didn’t hear her words. My heart was pounding too loud over hearing there was trouble at the palace.

“Barsilla, if there’s trouble, why not start rounding up feathers and talons? There’s plenty here,” I whispered.

She landed on my shoulder, and for the first time, I realized she didn’t have her clipboard. Fuck, that was bad.

“Can’t. If I start pulling them, the crowd will get suspicious. And the festival needs to keep running smoothly.”

Made sense.

Once we got to the outskirts of the city, I bolted for the palace.

“Circle to the rear!” the piskie called over the sound of my running. I did as I was told and headed for the rear watchtower.

“What’s the trouble? You haven’t told me yet.”

We cleared the city limits and came into view of Featherstone.

“The palace is facing an attack from the lake. Kelpies and selkies stampeding up the shore when most of the feathers and talons are providing security for the festival,” Barsilla said. “We’re overwhelmed.”

That sent my heart racing. I didn’t know what those were, but if they were attacking us, probably not great and friendly folks.

Finally rounding the corner and coming to within view of the castle’s back bridge and watchtower, I witnessed a desperate struggle among maybe 15 still-living feathers and twice as many kelpies and selkies advancing toward Featherstone.

Kelpies looked like black aquatic horses, shadows moving around them obscuring the body at times, with glowing red eyes. Their hooves slammed to the ground and knocked feathers prone before trampling them to death. The selkies appeared to be pale fae, armed with armor made of ice and carrying large spears carved from driftwood, with the point made of a large sharpened shell. Tied around their waist appeared to be the skin of seals.

Leading them all was a woman about my height with long blue hair, whipping around in a fury. Her body was shrouded in a cloak made from fish scales. Her right hand grasped a stick with a shining blue orb on the end, radiating a sickening aura, and her opposite hand carried a shield made from a sea turtle’s shell.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Varella’s troops were well trained as any soldiers, I imagined, but when you don’t have the numbers, you don’t have the numbers. Bodies of selkies and kelpies lay among the dead, sure. Our guys got a few. But the number of dead feathers was considerably higher.

Our feathers were lacking direction. I think their commander was among the dead, which wasn’t a great morale booster.

Without thinking, I bolted from my hiding spot and ran down to the battle. Taking a position behind the feathers, I did the first thing that came to mind. I gave them a rallying point.

“Feathers! To me! Protect the royal pet,” I cried.

The feathers looked at one another and then wasted no time regrouping, a renewed light and focus in their eyes.

Rough and worse for wear, armored men and women surrounded me in a loose oval shape.

“We’ll guard you with our lives,” one of the feathers, a woman with a bleeding wound forcing one eye shut, said.

Standing with their weapons pointed forward, I could tell these guards had found their second wind. And I did feel protected, as their strength and aura rebuilt into a unit around me. It was at this point, I remembered what my mistress had told me about endearing the guards to me.

“You’re my new pet, and you have me feeling amused and delighted. That makes the feathers happy. And when they see me teasing you or carrying you around like a fluffy pal, it leaves them feeling amused as well. They feel connected to me, and subsequently, you, all the more,” she’d said.

It looked like all that teasing and embarrassment around the palace in front of the feathers had paid off. Of course, now I didn’t know what to do with their dedication and rebuilt focus.

For better or worse, I wasn’t given much time to think of what to do next. Because the woman with the glowing orb approached with her fighters in a tight formation behind her.

“So the little wolf shows herself at last. I was wondering if you’d come out to play,” the woman said.

I narrowed my eyes.

“Why don’t we skip the Saturday morning cartoon villain shit and get to who you are and why you’re here,” I said with a voice that surprised me with its ferocity.

But why wouldn’t I be fierce? I’d be whisked away from a world where I had only problems and brought to a world of magic where I was pampered to a ridiculous degree. And this bitch and her water polo rejects were attacking my new home.

“My name is Veltuza. I am the witch of this lake. House Harroldsen paid me well to kill your queen. Figure when she’s pouring out all her magic over the tree elves would be a pretty good time to strike. Will you stand aside?”

She asked me to stand aside as though it was such a simple request. Pass the butter, please. Could you get me that box off the top shelf? Move to the side so I can murder your mistress if you’d be so kind.

No, I would not be so kind. Fuck this bitch and the water horse she rode in on.

“I was the one who killed Lord Harroldsen. Why not just take me prisoner and end this mess right now?” I asked.

Barsilla stared at me in shock as though this was the worse possible option.

“Lady Harroldsen wasn’t all that broken up over her husband’s death. He was an arrogant fool bound to get himself killed sooner or later. She doesn’t want your head. She wants the Raven Queen’s skull mounted in her court at Eagle’s Loft.”

I took a moment to consider this. Killing Lord Harroldsen didn’t bring these attackers here. Something else did. I needed to stall until help could arrive, so what better time to find out what brought Lady Harroldsen’s wrath this day?

“What grievance does your lady have with my mistress?” I asked. “If this isn’t about the life I took, what does it concern?”

The lake witch scowled. She was eager to get this over with. I watched her fingers twitch as they held the glowing orb.

“It concerns respect, little wolf,” Veltuza said. “The Raven Queen has shown my lady nothing but disrespect over the last few months. She arbitrarily raised taxes over the objection of House Harroldsen, put the concerns of the Worm Court above her own houses, and even showed a willingness to annex a new house without subjecting them to the same onerous burdens Eagle’s Loft has faced this year. On top of all that, she offered a mere pittance following the murder of Lord Harroldsen. Eagle’s Loft is owed more deference than your queen has shown, and I’m here to remind her of that.”

Well shit. That’s a long list of grievances, I thought.

But the fae court politics were above my pay grade. Actually. . . I wasn’t sure I even had a pay grade as the royal pet. Maybe I’d discuss that with my mistress after this shit was over.

“There’s no way to solve this diplomatically? Respect sounds like an issue that can be resolved by dignitaries and peace talks,” I said.

Veltuza sneered and looked at her dead comrades on the ground. I looked at the feathers who died fighting them.

“I think we’re a little past peace talks,” the lake witch said. “Stand aside.”

I shook my head. Without surprise, I’d spent all my badass points for the day just talking to this woman attacking the castle.

A lake wind picked up, throwing her hair all around and revealing pointy ears, each pierced with three golden rings.

“Very well. Thanks for buying time for me to prepare this spell, royal pet. I’m most grateful,” she said, as the orb started to glow brighter. Shadows and glamour flew to the orb, drawn from the selkies and kelpies behind her. Bitch had a whole well of magic at her disposal, and I’d given her time to tap into it.

Fucking hell, I thought. Getting the villain to monologue always worked in cartoons.

That was the last thought I had before a wave of magic from the orb crashed into me like a fucking tsunami. My legs buckled as the spell washed over me and suffocated any shred of security I had left.

The worst migraine I’d ever felt rocked through my brain like a wrecking ball, sans Miley. Falling to my knees and clutching my head, I screamed. I pleaded for it to stop. And when the pain finally lessened to a degree, a new hell captured my attention.

“There you are, Sierra. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” a familiar voice said. And my heart plummeted into the deepest pit of my guts. I started to panic breathe because I knew the man speaking.

Looking up slowly, I was greeted by my father, standing before me. Gray sweats, messy hair, belt in hand. And all I could do was whimper.

“Y—you were dead. I killed you,” I whispered.

He laughed, and I remembered every time he’d made that fucking noise, usually as I huddled with the one or two stuffed animals I had in the corner of my room, begging for the wall to open up and let me in. Insulation and fiberglass were welcome neighbors I’d choose over my father any day.

“Did you honestly think a scrawny little bitch like you could kill me? No. I stand before you now because, like everything else you’ve attempted in life, you failed,” he said.

Tears streamed down my cheeks now as I looked left and right for someone, anyone to protect me. But the feathers had vanished. Even Barsilla abandoned me.

The only people left on the shore were me and my father. And this time, I didn’t have claws and teeth to defend myself.

My father cracked the belt as he pulled it tight, and I flinched, crawling further backward from the man who’d made my life a living hell.

“You’re pathetic, just like your mother. No potential. Just a good-for-nothing piece of shit only good for the occasional chore. And sometimes you couldn’t even do that,” he said.

“That’s not true. I—“

“Shut up!” He screamed, and any will to keep speaking evaporated immediately. I was a powerless child standing at the mercy of a man who wasn’t known for showing any.

I looked at the ground.

“The first thing I’m going to do is see how many teeth I can knock out with my belt buckle. Then I’m going to see how many knuckles I can break with it. You know, target practice. And then we’ll go from there,” he said. “Because I want you to understand something. You can run away from home. Hell, you can flee to a different world entirely. But you will never, ever be free of me, you worthless child.”

Please. . . just make him go away, I thought to no one in particular. Someone help me. Lily, where are you?

“Now hold still. We’ve got a lot of teeth to break,” my father said, raising his belt. I flinched and shut my eyes, drawing my arms and legs in tight.

And just when things seemed as fucked as they could be, I heard a woman screaming. Looking up, my father was gone. Barsilla was hovering in front of me, saying. . .something, but I couldn’t focus.

The feathers that surrounded me were slowly getting up off the ground, groaning, a few still shaking.

When I looked down the shoreline at Veltuza, I found the source of the scream. Because she did it again. Squinting, I found the cause of her cry. That glowing orb was no more. All but the base was shattered, broken glass littered around her feet, where a hand axe lay in the dirt.

“Get up, Sierra. You’re safe now,” a voice said.

I turned to see Ceras walking up behind me, holding a torch, light and shadow dancing along their leather armor. But this wasn’t the goofball I was used to.

As Lily would occasionally fade into her spy face. So, too, had this person changed into the persona they needed to accomplish the task before them.

They extended me a hand, and I took it like a life jacket in a storm. Clinging to their strength, I rose to my shaky feet. More feathers did the same. And it occurred to me what’d happened.

My father had been an illusion, created by the spell Veltuza launched. And Ceras had arrived, throwing a small axe at the magic orb, shattering it and the spell.

“You saved me,” I muttered, wiping tears off my cheeks.

“Well yeah. Couldn’t just let the royal pet stay trapped in a nightmare until her heart gave out. The queen would kill me. And who would help me choose the best poses to impress my boyfriend with?”

For a brief moment, in that warm smile of theirs, Ceras the himbo returned. But when they turned to face Veltuza, the talon resumed their post.

I watched as Veltuza threw down her stick with broken glass on the end and reached behind her, pulling out a sickle.

“One man will not turn the tide of this battle,” she hissed.

Ceras chuckled.

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not a man. But I’ll tell you what I am, lake witch,” they said, drawing an axe from their belt. “I am the 13th master of the Thunder Cleave, as well as the strongest talon in Queen Varella’s forces. That probably puts a little quake in your boots, am I right?”

Veltuza scowled.

“I do not fear you, warrior. You will lie dead on this earth before the sun rises just like the other Raven Court soldiers.”

“Doubtful,” Ceras said, with a reassuring level of sass and confidence. “Hey, Sierra. Why don’t you see if you can help even the field while I deal with the lake witch?”

I looked around as the kelpies and selkies prepared for a renewed assault and started to ask how I could help. But Ceras just looked at me, winked, and said, “I believe in you.”

This is the worst after-school special ever, I thought, nodding.

Then, Ceras charged down the path told Veltuza, axe drawn, aura burning a bright blue. When their weapon struck her shield, the ground quaked, and I heard a near-deafening clap of thunder.

Looking again, I saw the witch eat sand from the impact of that blow, flying in the opposite direction of Featherstone.

“Goddamn, that packs a punch. I wonder if they could teach me to be the 14th master of the Thunder Cleave because it looks wicked cool,” I thought.

The feathers around me had recovered enough from their nightmares, not that they appeared eager to charge after Ceras. But they kept looking at me, unsure if they were to stay close and protect me or help their talon.

I wish I knew how to help them. But without my mistress here, I couldn’t change into my wolf form. I looked up at the sky and saw an almost-full moon. It was still a few days off.

At this point, I was powerless.

Panicking from being unable to help, I took a deep breath. Had to focus. Had to center myself. How could I help level the playing field without my wolf form? There was more to me than that, but what was I supposed to do? What would the Raven Queen tell me to do?

And, considering this, I remembered it wasn’t just my inner wolf I had at my disposal. My mistress had infused a piece of her glamour into my wolfheart. I felt it every time she used her power, pulsing through me. It connected us. Bound us deeper than any other individual.

She used the magic as a handle to reach inside and pull my wolf form out. Could I tap into her glamour on my own? Why not? It was just there waiting.

So I closed my eyes as I heard the pounding of hooves from kelpies drawing closer. Exhausted guards hoisted their weapons and shields, sweat and blood running down their faces. They’d protect the royal pet or die trying.

But I didn’t need to be protected right now. I needed to do the protecting, as Ceras had said. Level the playing field.

Reaching inside for my mistress’ glamour, I found it. It responded to my focused will, and my determination to end this battle once and for all.

Please, mistress, I thought. Help me.

For a moment, I thought I heard the Raven Queen’s laugh. But she was back at the festival. It was just me, Ceras, and a last-ditch group of feathers running on fumes. It was time to end this.

Come on! I thought. And the glamour responded in full surging up from my wolfheart and through the rest of my body. It felt like feathers blowing on a night wind inside of me, a storm rolling in after midnight. Ready to strike. It was time. This was my time!

Calling to the feathers around me, Varella’s glamour pulsing in my chest awaiting command, I roared, “My name is Sierra Chelsea. I am the goddamn wolf of Featherstone, and your time on my queen’s land is at an end. No mercy. No prisoners. No escape.”

The feathers stared back at me, feeling their queen’s glamour spilling out of my body. My growls echoed across the ground, rattling their weapons and shields. And then the fae did something I didn’t expect. They started to roar themselves, charging at the enemies outnumbering them below. Victory was already certain in their minds because the queen’s pet and Ceras were there fighting with them.

Throwing back my head, I sliced the night sky with an ear-piercing howl. Dark aura built around me as I heard the furious clash of Ceras and Veltuza’s weapons meeting. Clanging metal, furious thunder. All waiting for me to cut loose.

With my howl, came the howl of others, and the selkies and kelpies looked around in confusion as the guards charged down at them.

But they weren’t alone anymore. A pack of wolves appeared as if from thin air, running ahead of them. The canines’ bodies were made purely of black feathers and Varella’s glamour. I guided them toward the enemy with my mind.

Snarling, they cut into the enemies’ front line, shattering it, and tearing down the army of land-walking seals and water horses. Weapons splintered, armor groaned, and wolves growled. It was a mess of combat, but I’d turned the tide for the feathers.

Ceras saw the wolves and beamed, unleashing the rest of their aura and shattering the lake witch’s shield with a deafening clap of thunder. Unprotected, she didn’t last long, dying on the very shoreline she predicted Ceras would fall on.

The few remaining kelpies and selkies fought as best they could. But my wolves and the feathers tore them to shreds. That didn’t stop one from raising her arm and hurling a shell spear at me, though.

Pain flooded my lower abdomen as the goddamn thing sank into me about half a foot above my left hip. My concentration shattered, and the wolves dissipated. But I’d done my part. Ceras led the feathers to victory, even killing the selkie that’d wounded me.

Falling to my knees for a second time, I felt energy and blood pouring out of me. That’s when the shaking began. Goddamit, this really hurt. I tried not to move, but the urge to pull this fucking spear out of my abdomen was overwhelming.

I reached for the driftwood pole with my closest hand, right around the time a larger hand grabbed mine. Looking up, I saw Ceras. They had a cut on the side of their neck that’d been quickly stuffed with a torn piece of fabric. And a couple of fingers on their right hand were broken, bent at odd angles.

But kindness and strength abounded in their touch and gaze.

“Let’s leave that for a healer to look at, huh?” they said.

Nodding, I accepted a hand-up from them for the second time. And together, we limped to the barracks just inside the rear part of the castle. It was as far as I got before my legs gave out. Ceras helped me sit down on their cot and started to place some bandages around the wound, which hurt, of course. I squinted and groaned.

“You did good,” Ceras said, sitting down beside me.

“You believed in me,” I said.

We smiled and high-fived but immediately groaned afterward.

After about an hour, I was fighting off sleep, but the barracks door opened. In walked none other than the Raven Queen, looking over her feathers and Ceras and I.

She sighed and smiled before leading a group of healers in. They were clothed in white and wore masks over their faces.

My mistress brought in extra bandages and potions that seemed to help with the minor stuff, small cuts, and bruises. Then I watched her personally wrap wounds and thank each feather for their help tonight.

They were in high spirits, and most told the queen it was just their duty. But she had none of it.

“I owe each of you a debt of gratitude, as well as our brothers and sisters who died defending Featherstone today. I want all of you on bed rest until you’re ready to return to duty. . . if you even want to after today,” the queen said, bowing her head to the room.

Everyone fell silent. Nobody quite knew how to react to our monarch bowing like this. But she felt it a necessary show of respect, so we waited for her to be done.

She went back to helping bandage the wounded feathers after that, and I saw such admiration in her guards. My mistress truly cared for each of their sacrifices and listened to each one give their report on the battle.

At last, she got to Ceras and me.

I was glad a couple healers had pulled the spear out before she arrived before I did a fair bit of cursing and howling. That hurt like a motherfucker. But they took good care of it, using their glamour to slowly close the wound and wrapping it in several layers of gauze.

Ceras had their fingers set, and the neck wound sealed as well.

When the queen walked over to us, we tried to stand, but Varella shook her head.

“You two did something amazing today,” she whispered.

We nodded.

“I’m very grateful,” she said.

“What about the dryads? Are they okay?” I asked.

Varella nodded.

“The festival ended a little bit ago, and they got on their way, none the wiser,” my mistress said.

I sighed in relief.

“And. . .where is Lily?” I asked.

“She’s on her way to Eagle’s Loft with a battalion of talons and feathers. By sunset tomorrow, Lady Harroldsen will be dead. And I’ll place a steward in charge of that hall until I can find a more permanent solution.”

Shivering at how quickly Varella had responded in kind, I remembered she was first and foremost a dark queen of Faerie.

But as she carried me back to my room cradling me in her arms, I remembered she was the mistress I’d given myself to just weeks ago.

The Raven Queen placed me on my bed and pulled a quilt over me. Then she pulled up a stool and sat next to her wounded pet.

“What you did today was risky,” she said. “And, I didn’t give you permission to offer yourself as a prisoner in exchange for my safety.”

Scoffing, I rolled my eyes.

“Maybe you haven’t heard, but I’ve promoted myself to the Wolf of Featherstone. From now on, I call the shots. I’ve got glamour—“

“My glamour.”

“. . .Your glamour. And a wolf inside of me that can take down anyone. So, I think the days of needing permission are over,” I said, full brat on display.

The Raven Queen considered this. Then she did that fucking thing again. She ran her nails through my hair, and I just didn’t have the strength to out-brat her after today’s battle.

Hell, I’m not sure I’d have the strength to overcome her touch even if there was no battle, I thought.

So I did what was expected of me because it was my only option. My exhausted mind and body made sure of that.

I cooed and leaned into her scritches, closing my eyes. Shit felt really familiar. . . not that I cared. I told myself I hated that.

But you don’t really, I thought.

A couple of minutes later, when I was halfway between awake and in a trance, my mistress said, “You will not offer to sacrifice yourself for me ever again, my pet. Give me your word.”

There was some reason I wasn’t supposed to give in, right? I couldn’t just keep giving the Raven Queen what she wanted because touch was my love language. Oh, what the fuck. It just felt too good. Everything my mistress did to me felt good.

“I promise not to offer myself as a sacrifice for you ever again,” I mumbled.

The queen chuckled.

“You’re so easily broken, my pet. I love that about you. It amuses me greatly,” she said.

Eventually, her scritches slowed.

“Ceras told me about the lake witch’s spell. It sounds pretty awful. Can I ask what she made you see?” Varella asked softly.

I kept my eyes closed and sighed. Fuck. I guess it was better to talk and get it out rather than keep that shit inside and let it eat me alive. I bet that’s how my father ended up as an abuser. Some sort of psychological damage or another, not that I’d ever forgive him for it.

“I saw. . . my father,” I said.

My mistress said nothing.

“It left me pretty rattled, and honestly, if Ceras hadn’t saved me when they did, I think it might have broken me beyond repair.”

Now Varella sighed. She didn’t stop running her fingers through my hair, but this was the slowest she’d moved since carrying me in here.

“I’m so sorry, my pet. You should never have had to face him again, illusion or otherwise,” the Raven Queen said.

Then, silence claimed the room once more.

“You know. . . what I think it showed me is I have people to protect me here. Ceras rescued me from the witch. You rescued me from the sheriff and his men. And Lily rescued me from my loneliness,” I said. “That’s what I really gained from our bargain. It wasn’t just a sanctuary of the body, but of the mind and heart as well. I made the right choice to submit and become your pet.”

I heard the queen’s heartbeat slow a bit at my conclusion. But what that meant psychologically was anyone’s guess. I couldn’t predict the actions of my mistress.

Opening my eyes and looking at Varella, I whispered, “I love you. And I don’t care if it’s Stockholm Syndrom. Nietzsche can eat a dick. I love you.”

The queen’s smile was a somber expression. Her eyes were unreadable. Slowly, she leaned down and pulled me in until our lips were touching. And I could taste the night wind she soared on so freely. It was right. It was good. I had no regrets.

As she pulled away slowly, my mistress spoke.

“When Lily told me what’d happened as I stepped off the stage, I was worried. And while I initially struck our bargain out of some strange sense of amusement and curiosity, I realized in a moment of uncertainty that I was afraid of something.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“What could a dark queen of Faerie with all your power possibly fear?” I asked.

Her eyes softened a bit as she whispered, “Losing you.”

Gasping, I scanned her face and found the queen bared her heart to me for the second time tonight. But it was the first time with the two of us alone.

“I don’t have any problem sharing you with Lily. It was far from unpredictable. But Sierra, if you died. . . that would hurt me more than any iron blade,” she said.

“But you didn’t lose me. Everything is fine. I’m still here with you. And I’ll always be right here with you,” I said. “Featherstone is my home now, and I’m never leaving.”

At last, a small smile appeared on her lips.

“I love you, my pet. And you are truly mine. So, no, you won’t ever be leaving. You’re stuck here with me,” she said.

I kissed her this time. She seemed surprised but leaned into our connection. We kissed again and still once more for good measure.

When we parted to catch our breath, I touched the side of the queen’s face. She pressed her forehead to mine.

“I want to ask a promise from you,” I said.

“Oh?”

Looking deep into her violet eyes, I found the courage to speak again. Because I knew she wouldn’t be angry with me. My mistress was more curious than anything.

“I already asked Lily and she agreed. Now I’m asking you, my mistress. Please give me your word that you’ll never ask me to choose between you two,” I said. “I love you both so much, and if pressed on that choice, I think my heart would very well just stop beating. The pain would be too great.”

Varella thought for a moment, pulling her head back and then raising an eyebrow.

“And my wing already gave you her word?” she asked.

I nodded.

My mistress considered this information for several more seconds while looking down at my quilt. Then, her gaze met my own, and she agreed.

“I promise you, my pet, that I will never ask you to choose between the two of us. I bear no jealousy toward your girlfriend. Nor do I have any desire to relinquish you,” she said.

Sighing and finally feeling that weight slide off my shoulders, I rubbed my cheek against her hands.

My mistress took the hint and laughed.

“Very well, my pet.”

She resumed her scritching, and I resumed making tiny noises of contentment that occasionally earned me a grin from the Raven Queen.

For the majority of my 21 years in the human world, my life was shit. And while Faerie presented its own dangers, I was more than happy to now call this place home and myself the fae queen’s pet.