Page 73 of Kiss the Fae

“I may be a ruler, but the creatures of the wild are my family—and I saw what you did to them.” His haunted eyes swallow the view. “The day of The Trapping, I fell asleep in The Watch of Nightingales. At the time, it was my favorite resting place. With Moth living there, sometimes her parents would invite me to dine at their cottage. Other times, Moth and I would read to each other beneath the wind chimes. But on this particular evening, we’d just finished playing a hiding game in the woods, and then I’d fallen into slumber amongst the nests after she traipsed home.

“Not an hour later, I awoke to a cacophony of bleats, roars, screeches, and hoots. Under a blinding midday sun, the humans had stolen past the Triad, using fire laced with molten iron to extinguish the veil shielding our land.” He hisses, his profile trapped in memories. “So many noises from my wild family. The humans threw them into crates forged of more iron. I remember the scent of charred wings and fur sawing through my nostrils. I remember the animals screaming, their eyes frantic as they searched for a means to flee, searched for help…searched for me.”

Cerulean sucks in an anguished, serrated breath. “I tried to liberate them, but the iron bolts singed my palms before I could rip the grates from their hinges. Suddenly, a gag found its way into my mouth. Oh, but The Trapping didn’t astound me as it should have. What did astound me was that mortals had targeted the fauna, who had done nothing to them.”

A lump swells in my throat. “And what did they do to you?”

“I awakened in a cage barely large enough to stand in. My mortal captors fed me and provided water when they were in the mood, but mostly they played impressively creative games.”

To emphasize, he inclines his chin toward his arms, where shriveled craters pit into his skin, as if someone had jabbed Cerulean repeatedly with a chimney rod. I hadn’t noticed the scars until now. They look…familiar.

Also, I know all too well about being plucked from one life and shoved into another. I know how it feels to see creatures harmed in captivity. I understand the drive to save them. I know what it means to have a family, humans and animals alike—and to lose them.

And although I hadn’t seen the brunt of The Trapping, I’d known one exception. I wonder if Cerulean had known him, been friends with him, but I won’t ask. I don’t want to share that boy yet, not with anybody.

After all that’s happened, I shouldn’t pity Cerulean. But that would lump me with my neighbors, who hadn’t known when to stop, even after they were victorious.

“For weeks, I had no conception of what they’d done to the fauna,” Cerulean continues. “But the sounds of them being taken circled in my mind. I thought I might go mad with anguish, questioning what befell them and what happened to my Solitary neighbors. I imagined the worst, rightly so.” He compresses his dark lips and whispers, “Baiting. Slaughter. Abuse. When I fled at last, I found them and saw the price of a mortal’s vengeance. It was too late for the Fae elders and children, and my family was massacred but for one. There were so many Faeries and creatures—too many of them. I might have sunk to my knees amid the carnage, if it weren’t for the last member of my family and the remaining animals, who needed me to save them.”

My eyes water. “We’re not all like that,” I venture quietly. “Parents love their sons and daughters. They adore their animal companions and consider them family. Farmers worship their livestock. Hunters honor their catches,” I say, thinking of Juniper and her crossbow. “You can’t be shocked that not all humans would’ve hurt your fauna or those Fae children who were taken. As for the rioters who did? They were crazed with grief and anger. You made plagued ’em for ages, and they were raised to think all magical beings are evil.”

“So who is to blame?” he snaps. “Who are the monsters?”

“Maybe both.” I shake my head. “Maybe every realm’s got its monsters and saviors.”

“From my side, we don’t deny that. There will always be Fae who savor the tears and glazed obedience of humans, the decimation of their magicless lives.” He appraises me with something akin to respect. “Yet there might always be a human who keeps a sanctuary for mortal fauna.”

“I’d also keep one for Fae animals, if I could. If I’d found one of them after The Trapping, I’d have treated the creature tenderly.”

Cerulean’s head swerves away, the muscles of his face working to remain impassive.

As much as I hate to admit it, I fancy this side of him. I fancy it a lot.

“Ask,” Cerulean says without turning back.

So I do. “How old were you?”

“What? The Book of Fables does not say?”

“You know it doesn’t. I reckon you’ve read it.”

“Numerous times, and so I ponder. Full truths, partial truths, and untruths. Which is more valuable to a human?”

“Stop it. I already told you, I wasn’t one of ’em, Cerulean.”

He glances at me. “You’re unlike anyone, Lark.”

The sound of my name perched on his tongue has an alarming effect. My pulse punches a rhythm in my chest, and tendril of air slides beneath my restless feet.

The horned owl swoops from the clouds, reappearing after its romp with the other avian. My heart clenches, seeing the owl’s missing eye. Yet the raptor’s got stamina, looping around us and settling on Cerulean’s shoulder. When the Fae whispers something gentle and obedient, the bird flies back to its throne on the spire.

“He requests music,” Cerulean tells me. “He does that often.”

“You grew up with ’im,” I suppose. “He’s one of the animals who raised you…the raptor you mentioned.”

“As it happens, he was the first to appear, draping my small body under his wing.” Cerulean grins with devotion. “He’s been my guide, my friend, and no less than a father to me. Yet that’s not what you meant, is it? No, I did not think so.” His affectionate mien vanishes, his eyes turning into granite. “They’d broken his wings. He was hobbling in the cage when I located him, his talons had been whittled down, and they’d gouged one of his eyes. I wanted to maul whoever had done it, my rage so acute I tasted it on my tongue, but there was no time for revenge, and I was too young. I managed to free him before the mortals did further damage.”

He notices my palm covering my mouth in horror and says, “Never fear. He’s healed, and he’s a regal, proud creature.”

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