Marva hunched over and blood shot from her mouth. Memory after memory shot into her mind’s eye, blinding her, literally.

All around her, voices closed in and drifted away. She took little comfort in hearing Wyrn order others to fetch some water and stand at the ready for the trance to end.

“As soon as her eyes are no longer white, we must get her in motion!” Wyrn ordered.

Jeze’s voice held fear. “This will cause so much damage.”

She no longer laughed but Matax grinned enough for both of them. “Good.”

Voices drew near then drifted away and Marva gripped the grass, anything to fight back the feeling that she was floating away. Somewhere else. Perhaps another time, watching a boy of eighteen who watched a drunken man who watched a hut.

And then the boy led his horse away, mounted it, and started a directionless ride. She followed him through the wind and the rain. The snow and the fog until he reached the end of the world. Or, the end of the continent to be exact.

Two monks paused in their gardening to gaze up at him on the horse. They weren’t pleased to see his return. He’d been a useless servant and an even worse disciple. Still, his presence meant money and protections from the kingdom of Wisen.

Now, if only they could get him to leave.

Ten years later, they found a way. A new phony title accented with a cheap yet fancy-looking cape, and this vagabond prince was finally confident enough to leave their side. And good riddance.

At least the horse liked him , Marva concluded once the white faded and she could blink down at the red mess before her.

Two men stood with a bucket, readied to dose her.

“The princess has been shot,” Marva said.

Just those words alone and all action ceased.

Wyrn’s voice held grit. “Is she dead?”

It took Marva a moment to drag herself to her feet. “I don’t know. But he’s surrounded by ogres, and he won’t last long.”

“Ogres?” Matax looked over Marva’s head to Wyrn. “She shouldn’t have called you husband in the open. They won’t stop without proper revenge.”

Kog hurried to them. “We could cut through brownie territory but not unscathed.”

“The brownies aren’t the problem,” Wyrn said, mounting a unicorn. “The ogres have no leader with which to negotiate. We’ll have to kill them.” He guided the beast to turn to Matax. “And that comes with other consequences. But one advantage….”

Kog agreed. “They swallow their prey whole, so they’ll revive her to not waste the meat.”

“Right.”

Matax countered, “You assuming the human won’t try to guard her body though.” All eyes gravitated to him and he laughed.

“I thought that was a good one, too.”

The dwarf hurried to them from across his bridge. “I’ve got one. I’ve got one.”

Wyrn held out his hand for the little man.

Despite its size, the brownie’s voice was deep. “You dare capture us like bugs? I pity all who sleep tonight,” its voice thundered. “All. Even the bloody horses!”

“Calm,” Wyrn ordered, giving it a squeeze. “Hear me.”

The little human turned its attention to Wyrn.

“I promise you treasure. Ogre treasure, all you want, if you give me your land for a day. One day.”

Arms folded, it said, “Ogre treasure is only good if drenched in ogre blood.”

“Deal.” Wyrn pulled back then flung it into the forest, shouting, “First come first serve!” He readied the reins but focused on Marva. “Won’t you come with us? Your skills and magic could be of big help.”

But from the pounding in her head to the chaos outside of it, she refused. “I must head west to find the Fairy King and then my charge. But thank you for my freedom and good luck.”

Without another word, Wyrn turned the unicorn and galloped down the highway.

The werewolves shifted, the dwarf rode his own unicorn, a minute later, birds took flight and wild boars barreled out of the forest, ridden by little men and women.

Everyone charged eagerly into battle.

Marva made her way down to the river and washed her mouth. The clothes she wore could be of some use, perhaps. When she determined west, she started to walk.

Princess! Please. Please hold on. Keep your hand on the wound. Please hold on . Sorem’s panicked words came with his thoughts.

Marva listened to them now and then for boredom’s sake. It seemed only right that she’d hear them even after she had no further use for such knowledge.

One word had her feet stopping. Jvalan. Jvalan, please. Can you hear me? You can, can’t you? I’m surrounded. You must give me aid.

Sending a thought back wasn’t hard but Marva had none to offer. No helpful words or even a rejection. She felt nothing.

She couldn’t even stop her mind’s eye from opening to witness Sorem, surrounding ogres closing in, swinging his sword at random in an effort to keep them back. Teeth dripped with slime, the ogres reached for the princess but hopped back whenever Sorem turned.

Little by little, the numbers rose. First five, then ten. Twenty came, moving in unison to dodge each swing.

Now and then, Sorem looked back at the princess, genuinely afraid for her rather than himself.

Jvalan, please. I will promise you something. Anything. But please do not abandon me.

The panic and desperation needed no accompanying imagery. It was raw and real, but Marva forced the mind’s eye closed.

No one cares.

That was Sorem’s last thought. It was probably appropriate. As a child, no one cared. When he turned ten and was sent away, no one cared. Toiling with the monks, no one cared. Upon his return at seventeen then his heart’s shattering at eighteen, certainly, no one had cared even slightly.

She felt when something caught hold of the prince. She felt when an ogre snapped his right wrist with a laugh. And she felt when two ogres held Sorem up as they circled the princess and chanted.

But surely the best moment was when the princess’s leg twitched. Sorem nearly rushed her.

“Wait. What has happened?” one ogre asked the other. “We have not yet finished.”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

One gasp came then another. “She’s not human. Don’t you feel that? Don’t you know what she is? We can’t eat her.”

Vadde sat up, drew her knees to her chest, and kept her hands at her eyes.

“Miss,” one ogre asked as he risked stepping close. “Miss, we’re sorry. We didn’t know what you were. But now we know.”

For a long moment she said nothing. And then she stood and scanned the army of roughly fifty ogres.

“Trolls and ogres are kin,” one female ogre explained. “You rule them, and therefore, you rule us. We will do your bidding. Forgive us.”

Vadde offered no words as her eyes settled on Sorem. He was genuinely relieved to see her well and fit.

“Princess. I was frightened for you,” he confessed.

But while he offered cheer and appreciation for her good health, she regarded him as if he were filth.

“I never needed your rescue.”

Sorem’s pleased expression softened then faded. “I was only trying to help. I sincerely mean this.”

“My father shot me in the back because of you.”

At his silence, she looked from one ogre captor to the other who held Sorem up.

“You follow me? Is that what you’re saying?” she demanded.

One ogre bowed, then another. Within seconds, the entire field of them, from the main road to either side of the highway, fell on one knee.

“Very well,” Vadde said, her face equally as hateful as her voice. “Then follow my orders now. Find the nearest cliff and fling him from it.”

Sorem tensed but didn’t otherwise protest.

It was a chorus of “Yes, ma’am” before Vadde turned to walk away.

The majority of the ogres hurried after Vadde, saying, “We will give you safe passage, ma’am, if you’re unwell. And we can heal you more if you need it.”

“Yes. Let us heal you.”

“Let us heal you.”

And just like that, the mob faded, leaving two ogres to trade a glance before dragging Sorem into the forest.

“Waste of meat,” one complained.

“Should we eat him instead?”

“No. Would you dare to disobey her?”

“Never. Let’s go to the cliff.”

Said cliff was not far.

Miles away but watching everything unfold in her mind’s eye, Marva paused in her stride. She looked down at her bare feet and the soft grass beneath them. Jeze was a fairy used to flying, and therefore weak when she needed to walk. It was amazing to see her on horse back moments prior, but not Marva.

Walking was all Marva had done for as long as she could remember. Even upon escaping, she’d only flown a little, terrified of the speed at which she moved.

She wondered about her walking now.

Matax.

A part of her still longed for him. Just like a part of Sorem wanted Mo’el, even after he knew what she was. A memory of him paying a soothsayer in secret to find out if she was enchanted spread and he was a true laughingstock then thanks to none other than his cousin, Orm, who later bragged of being one of Mo’el’s best customers.

“She’s a true professional,” Orm told him over a drink. “Let’s you put it wherever you want, too. Less risk of a child that way.”

Laughter erupted at Sorem’s look of confusion. Sat at the large dinner table, his mother refused to acknowledge him.

When understanding dawned in Sorem’s eyes, Orm laughed even harder.

Sorem’s mother stood to leave but he beat her to it and excused himself with a bow.

There had been no laughter on Marva’s side of Matax’s trickery. In fact, she’d received hot iron seared into her skin, blotting out all her beautiful tattoos of praises.

Each and every one she’d achieved for her hard work underground, the only thing she valued, were gone. In human form, she held out her arms to find the scars still intact.

And she’d gotten one after the other. She dared not consider the state of her back. It must look a fright in this form.

The shame brought to her worker’s clutch felt similarly enough to Sorem’s humiliation that when Marva attempted to walk away again, she found no strength to do so.

Ten years ago, Sorem had returned to those monks, unearthed some ancient long-forgotten cult, and prayed daily for salvation. So strong was his conviction that he attracted her when she was cast out.

She fell right into a cage, never receiving a chance to truly taste freedom and she’d blamed him for that. But she had her power, even inside, and could have broken free.

But freedom meant the freedom to make yet another mistake, so she allowed him to carry her around. Admittedly, the idea to kill the Fairy King was not in her mind. She’d been sent to retrieve the child. Because the magus’s child was no child.

Now she was here, and it was of great importance to complete her original mission.

So, what of Sorem? What of him?

There were days when his quiet demeanor before others spoke of fury towards her. He’d shaken her cage and insulted her at every turn. She owed him nothing. He would have eventually killed her.

Feet steady, she turned and looked into the forest, intentionally following the ogres’ path.

“But I would have killed him, too, after I was done,” she admitted. And she never explained something very simple to Sorem—the Fairy King rarely cursed anyone. And even if he had, his death would only solidify it, not wash it away. Sorem was a fool to help his cousin, a cousin who offered him not even a kind shoulder with the Mo’el fiasco. A cousin who spread those rumors himself for fun. A cousin who amused himself at Sorem’s expense.

Despite all that, there was no hate in Sorem’s heart when he’d seen Orm. Yes, he’d traveled to Wisen with anger. But the idiot simply didn’t have it in him.

“You’re a fool, Sorem. That is why no one pities you. No one pities either of us.”

Marva started to walk again, this time into the forest. There was something important she remembered—night Fae’s magic. She could wield it at any size, but it was stronger in her true form. She still wore the dress when she broke into a run, pleased beyond words at drinking in the sweet breeze brushing against her skin.

She was free. So, she leapt up, opened her wings and shot into the sky. The dress fell away, and she shrunk down, her fairy form once again restored.

Unicorns were fast but night Fae’s much faster.

In no time, Marva spotted the two ogres. Like trolls, they were a large size, but differed in their weakness to the night. Both held Sorem under the arms as they dragged him. His broken right wrist made his hand hang limp, but he did not put up a fight.

Marva fluttered in place, still debating the merit of this rescue.

Finally, she let out a sigh and shot forward like an arrow.

One ogre spotted her. “Hello, fairy.”

“Hello, fairy,” the other one echoed.

“Let him go,” Marva commanded. “I order you to let him go.”

“Sorry, fairy. We cannot disobey these instructions.”

Surprised, Marva flew back but approached again. “But don’t you know who I am? Night fairies wield enough power that you must obey.”

“True,” one ogre told her, “but that princess back there surpasses your powers. We cannot disobey.”

And they kept on, true to their word. They took long to reach the cliff and Marva flew up, desperate for some direction. By now, Wyrn must have reached the princess. Marva thought to fly there and beg her to remove the decree but there’d be no time.

A bigger concern reached her. Sorem. He’d said not a word nor acknowledged her attempt at rescue.

When Marva approached them again, she spoke to him directly. “Make a wish, Prince Sorem. I will carry the consequences of them letting you go. Make a wish!”

He continued to stare through her.

The ogres came to a stop, traded a glance, and asked one another in unison, “Ready?”

After they both shared a nod, they swung Sorem by the arms like a sack of goods two times then let him go on the third.

‎