Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

The Riddle

We left the clearing and returned to the castle where I followed Casamir to his room. For a few more hours, I was able to forget my fear of losing him. When he was in front of me, touching me, making love to me, it was hard to imagine he would ever forget me, but I knew the evil of magic. It had hurt me before and it would again.

Casamir slept beside me, his warmth a welcome weight, and though I was exhausted, I could not stop my mind from reeling, turning over the mirror’s riddle in an attempt to make sense of the words.

His name knows no stranger.

It is the wail on the lips of a birthing mother,

the howl from the mouth of a grieving lover.

It is the cry that breaks the night when death is summoned

and the scream that echoes at daybreak when truth makes you ache.

You know his name. You have felt it.

I turned my head and stared at his profile and tried to imagine returning to my solitary life, knowing that his memory would always live beneath my skin. I would never be able to let him go. He would drive me mad, and he would not even know it because he would not know me.

Despite being tired, I left the bed and slipped into the white dress the elves had made me for the picnic. Dawn was just breaking, and a pure golden light warmed the curtains covering the windows. I crossed to the corner of the room where Casamir’s plants thrived.

“Will he remember why he loved them?” I asked as I took a velvet leaf between my fingers.

“He will remember nothing about himself,” said the mirror. “That is the power of losing one’s name.”

My chest felt tight, and I swallowed something hard in my throat.

“And if I were to give him my name?” I asked and then looked at the mirror. This time, I saw my reflection, haunted and pale.

“Well then, that would be power too.”

I left Casamir to sleep and wandered into the garden, hoping to clear my head. I needed time to think, to cycle through the letters I had and the words I knew. Now that I was faced with losing Casamir, I felt a bone-deep sorrow.

It hurt and ached.

I had been alone so long, I never thought I would desire anyone, but here I was, wishing for an elven prince to love me.

I halted in my steps.

Surely that was not what I had meant.

I wanted Casamir to remember me, not love me.

A sudden and intense rush of dizziness overtook me, and I shook, unable to breathe as I came to terms with the truth of my feelings. I wanted Casamir to love me because I loved him, but I needed his name.

What was his name?

The more frustrated I grew, the less hold I had on my emotions. I felt frantic and my chest tightened, and my heart felt as though it was beating all over my body. I bent at the waist and tried to take in air, repeating the letters of Casamir’s name.

U, I, A, S, N.

I said them over and over until I could breathe again.

Slowly, my thoughts turned to the mirror’s riddle, and I recalled the times when I had wailed and howled and cried at my family’s deaths. My grief had spanned mornings, and all I had ever felt was agony. All I had felt was—

Anguish.

My heart rose. That had to be Casamir’s true name.

My body danced with delight, vibrating with excitement. I whirled, intending to race to him and speak it against his lips as I confessed my love, but as I turned, I came face-to-face with a man.

“Well, hello,” he said, and while he tried to sound pleasant, I immediately felt on edge.

I got the sense by the way he approached, as if I were a wild animal, hands outstretched, palms flat, that he had been trying to sneak up on me.

He wore a purple hat and strange purple clothes that seemed to be missing buttons down the front, for his shirt hung open, exposing his chest and stomach.

“Who are you?” I asked, my pulse racing. He tried to circle me, but I followed, wishing I had my ax. I would show him what to fear then.

“I am a prince. A mortal one,” he added, as if I could not tell. No fae would wear such clothing. No fae would approach me as if I were the threat. “My name is Flynn.”

He paused to bow and added, “At your service.”

“I do not need your service,” I said.

He watched me, blue eyes sparkling.

“Are you the maiden the prince is in love with?”

I wanted to ask how he knew about me, but I was stunned by his words.

Had he said the prince was in love with me?

I opened my mouth and then closed it, finally deciding to ask, “Why are you here?”

“The same reason you are here, I imagine. We are captives, are we not?”

I did not speak and instead took a step away.

“Do not be afraid,” he said, inching closer. “I will not hurt you. I am here to rescue you.”

“I do not need rescuing,” I said.

“It looks to me like you do,” he said.

Casamir’s name was poised on my tongue. I knew if I called, he would come, but before I could speak, something tight wrapped around my wrists and mouth—vines.

Something struck me from behind, and I fell to my knees. When I looked up, a cluster of pixies flew from behind me, hovering near Prince Flynn. They were the ones who had left slugs in my room on my first night in Casamir’s castle.

Each held out a hand, and he popped a button from the cuff of his sleeves. The pixies took them in hand, the buttons as big as them, and they dragged them away, wings beating furiously.

It was their magic that restrained me, their magic he had bargained for. Two remained, each sitting on one of his shoulders.

“The pixies tell me you have been to the Glass Mountains.”

Fucking fae. Casamir would not have the pleasure of tearing them to pieces because I would tear them limb from limb.

“You will take me there,” he said. “And once I have obtained a golden apple from the Mountains, you will come to my kingdom and aid me in conquering the Prince of Thorns. Do you understand?”

I glared, and then he produced my ax from behind his back. and my eyes widened. Another bargain made with the pixies, no doubt.

“If you try anything, I will not hesitate to bury this blade in your head. It’s what you deserve, after all, for fucking a fae prince. Up!”

I rose to my feet on shaking legs, and the mortal prince put his hand on my forearm.

“The pixies say there is a pond you depart from, and from there you call a wolf.”

I tried not to react to what the pixies had told the mortal, knowing he had to have made a desperate bargain. What had the prince given up for this aid? More than buttons, I imagined.

“I shall know if you lead me astray,” said the prince as he pushed me ahead. “Walk.”

I led the way as I considered my next move. It was as if the pixies knew I was considering my escape, because the vines tightened on my wrists and around my mouth, but they could not stop my thoughts, which wished for Casamir, for Anguish, for my elven prince to wake and realize I was gone.

All the while, Prince Flynn kept busy, rattling away about his time in the dungeons of Casamir’s palace.

“And did you know he came to me for love advice?” he was saying. “And each time he took something from me. First my hair, and then the feather in my hat, as if the hair could not grow back, as if I could not obtain another feather. The fae, they are foolish!”

His words made me cringe. Even if he managed to obtain a golden apple from the Glass Mountains, I knew he would come to regret those words, though I wondered why Casamir had asked for his hair and the feather in his hat. I knew the Prince of Thorns, and he did not ask for anything without reason.

“For a harlot, you are a picky thing.”

I jerked in his hold at his horrible words, and he wrenched me against him, placing the sharp blade of my ax against my neck.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said. “Remember what I said?”

“Fuck you,” I tried to say, but the vines tightened to the point that my jaw ached.

The mortal prince laughed and then pushed me forward.

“Do as you’re told, and the pixies might let you survive this.”

The walk to the selkie’s pond seemed to take forever, but when we arrived, I turned to face the prince.

“Well? What now?” he asked.

I stayed silent. It was not as if I could speak with the vines wrapped so tight around my mouth. He seemed to realize this and chuckled.

“Oh, of course,” he said and lifted the ax. “Allow me to help.”

When I started to move away, his hand braced my head.

“Careful,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t want to cut you.”

He touched the blade of the ax to the vine and pressed. They snapped, and I felt the distinct burn of a cut on my skin.

I hissed and the prince chuckled.

“I told you not to move.”

I considered kneeing him in the groin, but he still had the ax aimed at my chest, and without my hands free to grab it, I worried it would end up buried inside me.

“Now what, harlot?” he asked.

I ground my teeth.

“Drink the water,” I said. “And I’ll call for Wolf.”

“Drink the water?”

“You must drink the water to grow small enough to ride Wolf,” I said. “Do you want your apple or not?”

He looked from one shoulder to the other where the pixies still sat, and once they had confirmed what I said, Prince Flynn grabbed me and directed me to the water. He kicked my feet out from under me, and I fell hard, mud splattering my entire body.

“You drink,” he commanded. “And then I will.”

I could not wait to gouge out his eyes, and I would do it with my thumbs and revel in the feel of it beneath my nails. I bent, hand still tied behind my back, and slurped the muddy water into my mouth. As I did, I felt the familiar dizziness that came with growing small. I ended up in a pool of water my knee had created on the bank of the pond and waded from it onto the soft ground.

“Well, would you look at that,” he said, and I watched as he hurriedly scooped water into his cupped hands and drank.

When I called Wolf, I shouted his name and hoped that the wind would carry my summons to the castle as well, but the longer we waited, the more anxious I became. Would Casamir catch up with us soon? Would he realize I was gone and think I ran away? Would he even remember me if he truly had miscounted the days?

I chewed the inside of my cheek.

“You had better not be lying,” the prince threatened as a shadow passed over our heads.

When I looked up, Wolf was circling.

“What is that?” the prince demanded.

“Wolf,” I said.

“That is not a wolf!”

“I did not say Wolf was a wolf,” I replied.

The raven landed and bowed his head.

“Lady Thing,” he said. His beady eyes narrowed at me, noticing that my hands were tied behind my back and blood dripped down my face from the slice of my ax. “How may I assist?”

“This is Prince Flynn of the Kingdom of…” I paused and looked at the prince. I did not know from where he came, but I wanted to know, because later, when I had plucked his eyes from his head, I would return them to his father in a glass coffin, so that his whole kingdom would know what happened when he crossed me.

Prince Flynn hesitated and then spoke. “The Kingdom of Rook.”

“Rook,” I repeated. “He wishes to be taken to the Glass Mountains to obtain a golden apple.”

“She must go too,” Flynn added quickly. “You must take us both.”

The raven looked from the prince to me.

“Of course,” he said. “But, Lady Thing, you cannot ride with your hands tied. Allow me.”

The prince raised the ax to threaten Wolf, but he moved quickly and snapped the vines around my wrists, then he shifted and plucked the prince up by the scruff of his neck and launched into the sky. The ax fell from his hand and landed at my feet, and I was hit hard by the violent splash of mud and water.

The mortal’s arms flailed and despite how tiny he had become, I could still hear his desperate screams as the raven continued higher and higher until they were nothing more than a tiny, black dot in the sky.

“I command you to let me go!” he said, and when that did not work, he dissolved into tears. “Please, let me go! Let me go! I will give you anything, anything!”

Wolf obeyed and let the tiny prince drop, but before he could hit the ground, a large hawk shot from the trees and snatched him up, gobbling him whole.

I stood, staring blankly at the sky where he had been, before I knelt and drank from the pond, head spinning as I grew. When I came to my full height, something zoomed past my face—the two pixies who had helped the prince capture me. They came so close, I could feel the vibration of their wings and hear their shrill laughs.

I reached out and managed to capture one in my palm, its joyful cackle turning into a terrified scream as I squeezed. The pixie cracked and burst, and when I opened my hand, its bloody and broken body lay at the center of my hand, wings contorted, legs twitching.

A high-pitched scream sounded, and I looked up in time to see the other pixie racing toward me, but before it could land a blow to my face, I slapped it, and it landed some distance away in the grass and did not rise again.

I washed my hands free of the blood and bone in the water and reached for my ax when I noticed black thorns and solid shadows trailing across the ground. As I straightened and turned, I found Casamir before me, his magic surrounding us like a wall, a comfort I never thought I would want but desired now forever.

He took me by the shoulders and brought me close, his eyes as black as the night sky, gleaming like the stars.

“Casamir,” I breathed.

I wrapped my arms around him, though he looked vicious and bloody. If I had to guess, the other pixies who had helped the prince capture me had met their ends at his hands.

“You are hurt,” he said.

“It is only a scratch,” I said, pulling back to look at him. “The prince is dead.”

Casamir bared his teeth.

“I am sorry. I did not know—” he began.

“It’s all right, Casamir,” I said and pressed my fingers to his lips. “It does not matter. I am well and I know your name. Your true name.”

The harshness etched on his face did not ease.

“My name?”

My brows lowered. “Aren’t you pleased?”

I thought he would be. Wasn’t this what he wanted?

It was what he had said when I’d asked him what he wanted most.

My name. My true name.

“I lied,” he said. “When you asked what I wanted most. I want you. I know myself when I am with you.”

“Casamir,” I said and drew a stray piece of his hair behind his ear, then I smiled before whispering, “My name is Gesela.”

His eyes widened, and I leaned in, whispering his name before my mouth met his.