Page 35 of Defy the Fae

It could have been worse. If Elixir had delayed any longer, the effects would have reached Scorpio’s tongue, permanently scorching it. As it is, I’m sure the blisters hurt.

The minute he recovers, the Fae grunts through the pain and slams his hand on the table. The goblets and flagons dance, clacking like bones. “See what they’ve done?” he splutters to Elixir. “They’ve turned you against us!”

“Says the one who sent a raven to kill me and my brothers.”

“I did what I had to for the sake of our land. But they—” he gestures at Lark, Juniper, and Cove, “—they’ve trapped you with their own form of glamour! Humans lie, and they use those lies to distort what happened during The Trapping. They would make you believe they had no choice, that they were forced to massacre our kin and the fauna, when really, they’re using our vulnerabilities against us. All the while, they’re plotting to do it again!”

“That is propaganda against humans,” Juniper rebukes.

“The chosen Fable you so confidently speak of is propaganda. Its hidden message wasn’t penned by the Folk but by mortal scribes with an agenda.”

The huntress scowls, as if he’s committed blasphemy. “The agenda was to inform people.”

“This alleged second way you advocate for doesn’t exist. It’s a myth. It’s a mirage. Matter of fact, maybe this has nothing to do with the scribes. Who’s to say you didn’t invent this scam? Who’s to say you aren’t misinterpreting the Fable on purpose and mangling the truth?”

Incredulous, Juniper stabs her finger onto the tabletop. “The text is there. You can see the font discrepancies that reveal the hidden message. It’s in print, accessible to anyone who isn’t too lazy to pick up a book.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Scorpio rasps with feigned humility while clutching his chest. “I suppose if it’s on paper, that makes it true—that the fate of our world rests on the whims of a few humans who’ve been dead for centuries.”

“You want to get slapped with another valid example? Fine. Not only did ancient Faeries contribute to the scribes’ tales, but the Fables were endorsed by the Seelie witch who established one half of this land.

“What’s more, she embedded a spell in one of the Fables. She did that to counteract a curse, which her Unseelie nemesis placed on a water well in Reverie Hollow. Cove enacted that curse and then broke it, by way of the Seelie witch’s spell.Thatis the truth.”

“And how I’d love to be educated on the nature of truth by a culture with the ability to lie.”

“The broken curse isproof,” Juniper disputes, exasperated. “It confirms that what’s archived in the Fables is legitimate. Or are you saying the stories got it wrong? That you don’t use glamour, you’re not immortal, and your fauna don’t have the ability to shift sizes? Have you even thumbed through the contents?”

“Next you’re going to claim that salt and hawthorn berries ward off enchantment.”

“I’ve learned my lesson about those fallacies, but most of the tales are correct.”

“The basics maybe, but what you’re talking about is a cipher, a message that has somehow escaped our notice for eons, but which you seem to have uncovered after less than thirteen days of being here.” Scorpio’s eyes slit. “How convenient.”

Juniper raises an impervious eyebrow. “It’s called making an effort. Perhaps you should try it sometime.”

Puck presses a fist to his mouth, concealing a grin. Lark outright snorts.

The scales laminating Scorpio’s temples glint. “I’ve heard about you. The bookish bragger who’s a walking encyclopedia for the Fables. It’s impressive that such intelligence can fit inside such a compact body.” Like a glutton for punishment, he glances at Puck. “How does she manage to wrap her legs around you?”

The stirring spoon in Puck’s hand bends a fraction, too imperceptible for anyone sitting on the opposite side of the table to notice. The rest of us see the motion, and Elixir hears it, his head jerking toward the noise.

Nevertheless, Puck smiles. “Guess I’ll have to repeat myself and add a bonus warning. Insult my woman again, and when she’s done verbally scrubbing the floor with your ass, I’ll finish where Elixir started. That’s how you’ll find out what it’s like to have my hands wrapped around your jugular. And I have very big satyr hands.”

“If we’re taking turns on him, I’m next in the queue,” Lark volunteers. “I own a whip.”

Scorpio ignores her and slurs to Puck, “Well, I got my answer. She wraps them pretty tightly. Like a leash.”

The utensil in Puck’s grip snaps.

In one unified move, the sisters rise from their chairs like a pack of tigresses.

Scorpio looks impressed. “Human solidarity. How cute.”

“You jealous there’s no one standing up for you?” Lark asks.

The merman’s features spasm, as if pricked by needles. An instant later, his expression blankets, concealing whatever emotion had just squeezed through. “To envy a human,” he belittles. “What do you have that we don’t?”

Lark crosses her arms, white hair cascading down her frame. “You try living through plague, and then we can talk about strength. You try raising an orphan who needs a family, and then we can talk about magic. You try living fearlessly within a short lifespan, and then we can talk about power.” She unwinds her arms, flattens her palms on the table, and leans forward. “You try facing an impenetrable enemy with nothing but your bare hands, and then we can talk about courage.”

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