Page 159 of Court of the Fae Princes

She looks disturbed for the briefest moment before her lips pull into a thin line. “Possibly. We have no idea how long she’s been planning this.”

After we pass under the gate and into the courtyard, Lady Nova gives me a look. A shut-the-hell-up look.

I nod. Okay, royal fucking badass fae queen from here on out. I can do this.

She gets off her horse in a smooth motion and grasps my reins, indicating that I should climb down. It’s weird. She’s been doing a lot for me, but this is something she’s doing to send a clear message that she’s almost in a position of servitude to me. It’s uncomfortable, but I guess I have to get used to my new role.

“Is the sky always so… cloudy at the House of Death?” I ask as we start up stairs leading to large doors.

“From what I hear, always,” she says, and I sense she’s done with the chit chat.

The door opens for us as we reach the top step of the castle. A pale, ghostly servant stands before me, his eyes vacant. His frame is so thin that I wonder if they even have food in this place.

Lady Nova elbows me.

I clear my throat, standing up taller. “We’re here to speak to the House of Death about my princes.”

The servant narrows his eyes as he assesses me. “Then you seek the Keeper of Death,” he replies in a monotone voice, his bony hand pointing toward a foreboding passageway. “But your servant may not accompany you.” His gaze shifts to Lady Nova.

I glance at Lady Nova, careful to not look for her approval. We nod slightly at one another as if I’m dismissing her, but her nod is the reassuring anchor of trust she has in me. I should keep going, and she has faith I can do it.

Or she’s just saying, quit wasting time, you don’t have a choice. I’m not sure which. Either way, I have to get going. I have to do this.

“I’ll be back,” I say.

She nods. “The four courts are with you.”

Inside the castle, darkness suddenly surrounds me. For all the windows I saw on the outside, no natural light filters into the place. The only light comes from torches on the walls. Torches that are far more spread out than they should be leave massive pools of darkness between the sparks of light.

To think I thought the outside of this place was unsettling…

The servant lifts a hand and points. “Go down this hall, always going straight. It’ll go deep into the ground, into the sacred space, and there you’ll find her, the Keeper of Death.”

“Thank you,” I say.

The servant doesn’t respond, doesn’t blink. He just stands, looking like a ghost in the dark castle. And, somehow, my heart goes out to him. Death is bleak. Terrible. No matter how you look at it.

I walk in the direction the servant pointed me in. Living dead move around the halls in every direction. They’re in all forms of death from decaying bodies to ghostly figures, and even servants whose bodies are decayed to the point of being skeletons. Each one that I pass pauses and stares at me, but they don’t move towards me or attack, which is somehow not as reassuring as I imagined it might be. I consider reaching for my dagger but decide it’d probably be better not to start a fight when they’re not being aggressive.

Especially when they outnumber me, and I don’t know what they’re capable of.

Yet, they make me feel weird. Something in my mind feels a connection to them. If I close my eyes, I’m pretty sure I’d feel cords running from me to them. Is that normal? Is that because we’re all connected to the dead in one way or another? I don’t know, but I don’t have time to investigate them.

I pass more undead. They stare. Wordless. Unsettlingly.

“So, just keep going down the dark, creepy hallway?” I ask, flashing a smile to the undead.

They all lift their arms and point forward.

Unsettling. “Thanks,” I say, and keep going.

But at least it’s kind of cool they respond to me when they’re like that. I don’t know how. If it’s because they’re being controlled, or because they have some life left in them, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out one day.

I reach a staircase that appears to go deep into the bottom of the castle. As I begin my descent, I get that strange feeling again. Like something powerful and unexpected is building inside of me. Is this place some kind of power source for the fae? I have so many questions about my powers and how they work, but that’ll have to wait for when I’m safely back home with the princes.

My steps echo in the cold, damp silence of the catacombs. I can hear the walls of bones whispering the long-forgotten tales of pain and suffering hidden here, and the whispers feed something in my soul, awakening the same unhappy feelings inside of me. Focusing on each step takes away some of the strength of the whispers, so I do. I pray this gets easier while knowing it won’t.

This place is strange. I don’t like it. It feels… powerful and dangerous all at once.

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