Resistance (21 page)

I cringe and look away. It’s been over a year since
that incident and she still doesn’t look at me the same. Though
even with all the time in between, the brand on my arm still aches
and burns as if it was inflicted yesterday. “I told you, Khan—”

“What do you do out there, anyway?” she asks me,
changing the subject. She, too, believes I made the whole thing up;
believes Khan’s play of words. “Honestly, it’s filthy out
there.”

“It’s better than it is in here,” I tell her. “I go,
I walk, I return within the hour. It helps clear my mind and keeps
me sane.”

She huffs. “It’s dangerous. Khan has told you of all
the wildlife out there, for one, and do you have any idea what Papa
would do to you if he were to find out?”

“And how would he find out, sister?” I snap, glaring
at her. She’s always been one to question the actions of others,
ever so curious as to why anyone would sway from the rule book. She
is the perfect daughter — quiet, accepting, obedient. Everything I
am not.

“Come now,” she grinds out. “You know I would
never.”

No,
I think to myself.
I don’t,
actually.

“Of course,” I say instead, and turn to face the
outdoors once more.

“Must you go tonight?” Sindri asks. “It’s so late…and
I have a bad feeling you’ll be caught.”

“You always have a bad feeling I’ll be caught,” I
reply, not breaking my gaze from the earth below. “I’ll be back
before you know it, alright?”

She bites her lip and sighs. “Promise you’ll be
careful?”

I nod and she accepts that I will promise her
nothing. She knows full well that every time I wander away it’s a
struggle to return. Freedom is only a few steps off my usual path,
but fear has always kept me bound to this place. It would be nearly
impossible to sneak away for any period of time. Everyone knows my
face and even if they didn’t, someone would see the brand on my arm
and return me to Landric immediately. There is no escape from this
hellhole.

“I’ll see you soon,” I tell her quietly. With one
last look at the closed door, I extend my arms forward, grab onto
the thick bough of the giant tree beside my window and scoot my bum
off the ledge. I swing slightly and push myself into it; settling
my bare feet on a lower branch, curling my toes and trying to
collect my balance. I slowly lower into a crouch and let my legs
dangle, then lower to hang by barely my fingertips. My usually
strong shoot quakes and jerks down a few inches and I gasp;
watching as it breaks away from the tree.

My body slams against the ground and the limb of the
tree slams into the dirt behind me. Frozen, I tune in my ears and
let out a relieved sigh when no sirens — or deep, angry voices —
sound in my wake. Sindri pops her head out of the window at the
snap and crash and mouths, “Are you okay?”

I straighten and let my bare feet rest against the
rich soil to calm my mind. I glance at the broken arm of my
always-reliable tree and wonder how I’ll get back inside my room
tonight. I can’t imagine why it would shatter on me. After a
minute, I give Sindri a thumbs-up and start towards the forest;
pushing a few thorny branches aside as I find my usual walkway,
reveling in the small stones that dig into my feet, the familiarity
of fresh air…

The wind whistles through the trees, melding
effortlessly with the song of crickets and the rustle of small
animals, and part of me would like to believe it’s only this
peaceful when I am around. I faintly recall the words of my
brother, warning me of the ‘dangers’ of the woods. “It’s combusting
with savages, Lumi,” he would say, back when he did converse with
me. “From rabid wolves to those filthy, wild humans. Just stay away
from there.”

Unbeknownst to him, I had already been traveling
these parts for quite some time by that point. The few animals I’ve
run across have been rather docile and curious, and I’ve never seen
any of those ‘wild humans’. Rumors of a rebellion run wild amongst
Khan and his halfwit friends, but I don’t believe in their versions
of the story. They like to believe the rebellions are a bunch of
humans who band together and burn flags and yell into the sky while
they try to figure out how to read. If that were the case, someone
would have complained about the noise by now and it would have been
removed. Right now the Courts are in denial, and I think that’s a
mistake.

I see the claw marks of the wolf I visit nightly — I
call him Ralph — deeply embedded on a tree trunk and know I’ve
found my usual resting place. Taking a breath, I pull my nightdress
up and settle on the soft lawn; waiting for my friend to arrive for
his late night snack.

Ralph is magnificent. He is large for his breed with
a huge head and thick, white fur covering his entire body, with
only a few brown wisps here and there. I first met him here, in
this spot, when he was passing through with a few others — two
grown females, a smaller male and two pups. It was the dead of
winter, shortly after another punishment I’d received due to my
brothers’ concealment of the truth, and I’d needed time alone. I
had been resting against the very tree I lean against now; letting
silent tears fall from my eyes as I breathed in the crispness of my
element. When the wolves showed themselves, most just sniffed in my
direction before deciding I was harmless and continuing on, but
Ralph and the pups seemed fascinated. I brushed it off —after all,
many animals are curious about the Fae — patted the small black pup
on the head, and continued to feel sorry for myself.

The next evening, Ralph was sitting alone by the tree
where I’d first seen him. He approached me like a lost friend and
sat there patiently while I cried out of despair from my horrible
life, and we’d been meeting there ever since. I only started
sneaking him food a few days ago, when my father was paying me no
mind. Tonight I have scraps of lamb, a favorite of Ralph’s and the
bane of my existence. I tug the folded napkin from my undergarment
and unwrap the meat as I look around for any sign of fur. It’s
nearly two a.m. now. He’s late.

I shouldn’t be so offended that a wild animal skipped
out on our dinner date, but there is a part of me that is hurt and
worried. I shake off my feelings and set the cloth with meat beside
the tree. I can’t wait forever, after all, or I might be crawling
in the window for the nightly three a.m. bedroom check and have my
fingers removed…or something equally displeasing. As I’m rising
from the cooled ground, I hear leaves crunching and twigs snapping
behind me. My brow furrows and I look toward the sound.
“Hello?”

The sounds stop for a moment and I wonder if it’s
Ralph. He’s never stomped around like a cow before, but perhaps
he’s hurt. I take a few steps closer. “Ralphie? Hello?”

Silence greets me. I rest my hand on the bark of a
tree and lean further into the shadows. “Who’s there?” I call, a
little louder now. My wolf would have made a whine by now, and I
won’t deny I’m getting frightened. “Show yourself!” I demand;
hoping the authority in my voice will scare off a weak-willed
animal. Surely it can’t be anyone who understands what I’m
saying.

The shape of a man becomes evident and I eat my words
and scramble backwards in shock. A guard, maybe? My heart pounds in
my chest at the thought. Dear God, what will Father do to me? Have
my head, no doubt. In his eyes, getting caught sneaking out for a
second time warrants public humiliation; execution. My stomach
churns in my gut when the man steps forward…only…he’s no one I’ve
ever seen.

The man is tall, around six feet-one inch, and
heavily built, with wide shoulders and thick limbs rippling with
overworked muscles. Reddish brown hair is cut short on his head,
and blue eyes that hold nothing but malice glare into my navy ones.
His mouth, framed by deep lines that indicate he scowls frequently,
curls into a wicked smirk as he takes in my size. I’m a good foot
shorter and only weigh in at a measly one hundred-ten pounds. He
could squish me with his baby toe.

“Hello,” I start quietly. I straighten and push my
blonde hair out of my face, trying to concoct an escape plan. He
stinks of iron and blood and grime. A human. “Are you lost?”

He doesn’t reply for a long time, just stands there
and observes me. Perhaps I am wrong to assume he has malevolent
intent. If he wasn’t so large, I’d look for a branding somewhere.
For all I know, he’s just wandered off from someone’s property and
honestly doesn’t understand what I’m saying. Some Fae don’t even
teach their humans to speak — I don’t exactly find that fair,
practical or kind.

He’s still staring at me. I open my mouth to ask to
see his brand when he finally responds. “Oh, no,” he breathes. “I’m
exactly where I need to be.”

He lumbers toward me and I feel panic rise in my
throat. “D-Do I know you?” I stutter; feeling my heart rapidly
pounding against my ribcage. My parents wouldn’t send a human after
me — they consider them too stupid to clean the floor properly, let
alone retrieve a princess. I had always believed in the rebellions,
but now that the possibility is staring me right in the face my
mind is screaming this can’t be possible. When he continues in my
direction, I muster every ounce of courage and demand, “Stand
down.”

He laughs; a small, wicked sound and I freeze. The
look in his eyes is purely animalistic. “Don’t make this hard on
yourself, faery bitch.” Within a moment his hand drops to his hip
and returns with a long iron blade. The smell invades my personal
space and I gasp at the stench; feeling a terrified cold settle in
my bones. “I’ll be quick. You’ll barely feel a thing.”

My feet slam against the ground as I try to run
without even making the conscious decision to do so, but his giant
hand comes snapping down; grabbing a fistful of my long hair and
yanking me back in front of him. He’s unimpressed with my escape
tactics and I open my mouth to scream, but it chokes off mid-gasp
when I see the iron blade being flipped around in position to enter
my chest. I reach up and wrap my small hands around his beefy
wrist; using every muscle I have to keep the weapon away from
me.

Shock takes over his facial expression and he growls
and shakes me by my hair. He wasn’t expecting me to fight back, and
he definitely didn’t expect I’d be able to stop him for any length
of time. I can feel the iron getting to me, though, even without it
on my skin, and he can tell. He smirks at me. “Come on, girl, just
let it go.” The knife takes on a new angle, and if my arms give out
it will go straight through my throat. “You know this is pointless.
You know I’ll win,” he hisses at me and starts to push. I feel the
tip of the knife getting closer to my jugular and I know I’m about
to lose my footing when—

“Sean!” a Scottish-accented voice yells.

The sound startles him enough into turning, and he
drops my hair in the process. I don’t even look up at the Scot’s
voice, rather I take the opportunity to grab the weapon from his
hands. The iron burns my palm and I cry out as the oaf turns. He
reaches for me and I automatically swing; feeling a slight
resistance before I stumble and land flat on my butt. The man lets
out a wounded sound and I look up to see blood on his face. The cut
is jagged; trailing from the outside of his eye to just beside his
lip, looking almost like a tear. His eyes light with anger and he
grabs the blade I dropped during my fall, but before he can stab me
to death, another figure is between us.

“Are you fucking crazy?” the shorter man yells, his
arms raised defensively. He has a completely different air about
him than the man who attacked me; a kindness in his voice I find
comforting.

“She came at me!” Sean insists. I try to work out a
disagreement but the world is spinning. I’ve only been in such
close proximity to iron once, and it’s worn me down to the point of
exhaustion.

The Scotsman looks at me and I feel my eyes widen.
Even in my semi-drugged state I can tell he’s like me — a faery.
His hair is a bit longer than my attacker’s, and a few auburn
strands fall onto his face. His eyes are hazel and bright, and he
almost looks concerned about my well-being. I’m almost too stunned
to notice the mercy in his eyes. Why in the hell would one of the
Fae be with such a man? “Yeah,” he says after a moment. “She looks
like a real savage.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, faery,” my
attacker, Sean snipes; a sneer on his face.

“Flint?” A strong, feminine voice sounds from where
Sean came from and I turn my head to see her. She’s small, only a
few inches taller than me, and the Scotsman is instantly caught up
in her presence. His jaw tightens and I wonder if he’s okay with
how infatuated with her he is. “What the hell happened?” the
dark-haired girl asks; staring at the wound on Sean’s face with
mild irritation.

“She tried to kill me,” Sean says defiantly, and I
hear the other man, Flint, scoff. “I told you we should’ve just
chopped her. She’s vicious!”

“No,” I manage, but the only one listening is the
dark-haired girl. She’s looking at me with caution and slight
disgust, but I still see a hint of the same pity I saw in Flint’s
gaze.

“Just because you can’t cover your own ass—” Flint
starts, tearing his gaze away from the girl to scowl at him.

“Shut up! Just shut your fucking mouth!” Sean
screams, getting in Flint’s face. The shorter man doesn’t even
flinch, and I swear I hear him chuckle. “You shouldn’t even be
here!”

“Enough!” the dark-haired girl yells, cutting off
whatever Flint was about to retort. “You’re only drawing attention
to us.”

“None of this would be happening if you’d shot this
fucker on sight, Fianna,” Sean says, gesturing to Flint.

Flint snorts. “You’d be dead by daybreak if she did,”
he says. “Your plan was suicide.”

“I swear to God—”