Page 3 of Consort

We peek through some tall glimmerleaf plants and find that it’s indeed Vernan, but he’s not alone. A powerful noble named Mitah stands to his right on a low rock with a small shifter crouched at his feet.

Mitah is tall. Taller than me and much taller than the shifter, who is on his knees, begging for his freedom. Mitah just sneers down at him with nothing but cruelty in his eyes. His icy white hair frames his twisted face, making him appear as cold as the queen he serves.

I wish Farris could make us disappear. That’s not his magic, though. We’re left cowering in the leaves, hoping to go unnoticed. I knew we should have steered clear of the nobles. They’re trouble. And I doubt these two are any exception.

“Please, let me go,” the shifter says, his shoulders slumping in resignation.

He knows his fate is likely sealed. His small frame tells me he’s no Alpha, the warriors of his kind. He doesn’t stand a chance against a noble.

“And why should I do that?” Mitah asks with a dark glint in his eyes.

“I’m a laborer of the land,” the shifter says, avoiding Mitah’s gaze. “I have work to do for the realm.”

“Bullshit,” Mitah spits. “All you shifters do is steal our resources and taint our land with your filthy presence.”

Mitah has the same view of the other species as many fae. The queen makes it clear that the fae are her chosen ones. The rest of the high fae are vermin, spoiling her perfect land. But I don’t think it’s true. The other species have their own forms of magic. They may be different than us, but they’re no less valuable.

Kelpies keep the lakes clean, providing fresh bathing and drinking water for the rest of us. Shifters hunt many of the more dangerous lesser fae, keeping the forest safer for those of us with weaker magic. I’ve never been able to understand the division between us. No one in my village seems to feel the way the nobles do. Perhaps it’s because we live farther from their influence.

But this noble doesn’t care about any of that. He feels justified simply because he’s stronger.

Without allowing the shifter to respond, Mitah raises a hand and clenches his fist. The sound of cracking bones ricochets off the trees. The small shifter cries out in pain, clutching his arm as he falls to the ground.

Mitah is a telekinetic. A truly terrifying ability in the hands of a malicious fae like him.

“That’s three. I wonder how many more bones it will take for me to feel better,” Mitah says casually.

The thought makes my stomach churn. The shifter can heal from much, but it will take time. Mitah intends to do more damage right away.

I look at Vernan, hoping he’ll intervene. But he doesn’t. He stares at the shifter with an unsettling lack of emotion. Isn’t he supposed to be a friend of Farris’s dad? Maybe he’s afraid of Mitah. Or perhaps he’s not as noble a fae as Farris thought.

The shifter’s body rises into the air. He sobs and flails his legs, still clutching his broken hand and arm. Mitah pauses to relishthe fear in the shifter’s eyes.

My heart races as I scramble for a plan. But before I can come up with anything, Mitah’s hand swipes down, sending the shifter crashing to the forest floor.

More cracks ring out through the forest, and the shifter lets out a cry. Mitah laughs and announces, “Seven.”

When he lifts the shifter even higher up into the trees than before, I grab Farris’s arm and hiss, “We have to do something!”

He looks as horrified as I feel but shakes his head grimly. “There’s nothing we can do, Durin.”

I fumble desperately for some kind of solution. “What if I burn him and distract him, and you can illusion the shifter to look like some tiny thing he can’t see. Or—”

“It’s too late. Mitah would kill you before you got close enough to touch him. And I can’t illusion the shifter; he’s already too high in the air. Mitah would just drop him once he disappeared from his view, and he’d suffer just as much damage.”

“Get Vernan to stop him. Your father is his friend. He’ll listen to you!” I growl.

Farris begins to look ill. “I may have exaggerated how well my father knows him… Vernan can’t help, anyway. Mitah is too powerful. He’d just kill Vernan or threaten to tell the queen if he interfered. There really is nothing we can do, Durin,” he says. “And we need to get out of here.”

A tree nudges me with its branches, making me jump. I sometimes forget that the dryads dwell within many of these larger trees. This one seems to want us to leave, too. The thought of abandoning the helpless shifter makes me furious and sick. But the dryads are wise. I should listen to them.

I glance at Mitah and see his grin widen as the shifter struggles and cries, suspended in the air. If we truly can’t help him, I can’t bear to watch him die.

I turn to flee, to avoid seeing any more, but it catches Mitah’sattention. He looks right at us and calls out, “What are you filthy gremlins doing here? You want to watch, huh? How about you be next? I can see which of you takes longer to die.”

I jerk my eyes over to Vernan, waiting for him to discover the truth.

He studies us silently, his expression unreadable. I can’t tell if he sees two sprites or a new weapon for the queen. My fingers twitch, begging to grab Farris and run. I try to think of a safe place to hide, ignoring worries of what Mitah might do if we’re too slow.

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