Chapter Five

Chapter Five

The Selkie

When I woke up the next morning, my head ached and my mouth was dry. Blindly, I reached for the water I usually kept at my bedside, but instead of finding the handle of my mug, I touched something cold and slimy.

A scream tore from my throat, and I sat up to a chorus of snickers. My hand was covered in mucus, the table beside my bed crawling with slugs.

I was not home but in the palace of an elven prince, and there was a troupe of tiny pixies in my room. They hovered, wings vibrating. Some were naked while others wore tattered and dirty clothing.

I threw a pillow at them as I scrambled out of my bed, relieved my ankle bore little pain as I put pressure on my foot.

“If I get my hands on any of you, I will pluck your wings from your bodies and wear them as a crown!”

They laughed merrily, zipping close to my face as they scattered, flying out a crack in the window I had not noticed the night before. I glared after them and the door clicked open. My gaze shifted to the beast who filled the doorway.

For a moment, I was shocked that he was able to enter. I had pushed a chest in front of the doors last night, except now I found that it had been moved.

I gritted my teeth.

Those pixies would pay if I caught them in my room again.

The elven king looked cold and pale, his eyes severe and his mouth tight.

I could feel his disgust, and yet his gaze raked over my bare body.

“Picking fights?” he asked as his eyes met mine.

I started to respond when a short, stout brownie pushed her way into the room, grumbling as she went. Her ears were pointed and large, hanging off the sides of her face as if they were too heavy for her head. She wore a brown dress and a stained white apron.

I reached for the blanket on the bed and held it to myself.

The beast smirked.

“This is Naeve,” he said. “She will help you prepare for the day.”

“Prepare for the day?”

“You are welcome to remain as you are,” he said, his eyes appraising. “Though I must admit, I quite like being the only one to see you like this.”

“How do you know you are the only one?”

The beast narrowed his eyes.

“He isn’t,” said the brownie, who stood at my feet and ripped the blanket away. I rolled my fingers into fists and growled at her as she made her way around me, her eyes assessing, but in a different way than the elven prince, who had taken a seat across the room, reclining comfortably, obviously intent on watching me prepare for the day, whatever that meant.

Once Naeve had made several rounds at my feet, she walked to the wooden wardrobe and knocked twice. One of the doors flew open, and a small creature poked its head out.

Naeve spoke to it in a language I did not understand. It was fast and so harsh, I thought they might be fighting. The small creature turned its attention to me for a moment. It had large round eyes that were set close and deep and a long, crooked nose that stuck out over a wide mouth.

It blinked at me, eyes shining incandescently, and then disappeared into the wardrobe, slamming the door. I took that to mean whatever Naeve had asked was unceremoniously rejected, but the brownie was not deterred. She crossed to a mirrored vanity, climbing onto the cushioned seat and the tabletop. Then she turned and pointed at the bench.

“Sit!”

I hesitated, gaze shifting between the beast and the brownie. When I did not move, Naeve kicked a small bowl of powder off the vanity.

“Sit!”

The prince laughed.

“Forgive her,” he said, and at first, I thought he was talking to me, but I noticed that he was looking at Naeve as he continued. “She is a bit dull.”

Naeve snickered and I scowled.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Are you saying you asked me to watch you bathe because you wanted me to and not because you feared the red caps?”

“I hate you,” I seethed, holding his gaze as I sat for Naeve, wondering what more I had to fear from the brownie or the creatures in my wardrobe.

His grin was menacing, and I ground my teeth, keeping them clenched as the brownie began to pull and twist strands of my hair. The beast watched, and for a brief moment, a harsh intensity returned to his face. I had no chance to study it or to think long on what had sparked it when he turned away, wandering toward the window from which the pixies had escaped.

“Must you remain?” I asked.

“Must you speak?” he returned.

“I suppose not, but then I would never utter your true name.”

His jaw ticked. That was the only indication I had that my words affected him. He continued to stare out the window while I sat naked and Naeve plaited my hair. As soon as she finished, the doors to the wardrobe burst open, and a ball of fabric came flying toward me, landing on my head.

“Dress!” Naeve ordered.

I pulled the cloth off my head, a perpetual scowl on my face. I held up the fabric to find that the creatures in the closet had made a dress. The top was white and billowy, the skirt pale green, overlain with sheer white fabric. When I glance over at the prince, his back was still turned to me, so I stepped into the dress and reached behind to button up the back but found I could only clasp a few on my own.

I turned to look for Naeve, but she was gone.

Then I felt warm fingers take over, and I stiffened as the prince fastened my dress. Once he was finished, I turned to face him. He stared down at me and spoke, giving me no time to react to his intrusion.

“You are permitted to wander within my castle and my grounds, but go beyond the wall, and you may become another person’s prisoner.”

“Is there anyone worse than you?” I asked.

The beast lifted his hand and caressed the side of my face.

“Vicious creature, there is always something worse.”

I held my breath beneath his touch, and when his hand fell away, the tension returned to my body.

“You will call me Casamir,” he said. “It is my mortal name.”

“I prefer beast,” I said, suddenly aware of how much I had to crane my neck just to meet his gaze at this proximity.

His lips quirked and his hand snaked behind my neck and into my hair, fingers grazing my scalp. He had moved fast, and once he was close, my body warmed against his.

“Call me beast again,” he said, his lips hovering over mine, “and I’ll show you why I was given that name.”

I could not help it. His threat provoked me, and a slow smile spread across my face.

“Beast,” I whispered, and the prince’s hand caught my throat. The black of his irises leaked into the whites of his eyes. He pushed me until I met the edge of the vanity, his hips pressed between my thighs.

I reached for his arm, but as I did, black tendrils rose from his skin and wrapped around my hands, becoming solid like the spindly branches of a bodark tree. They crawled over me, around my shoulders and down my back, wrapping around my waist. At the same time, another set of vines trailed up my legs, curling around my thighs, inching closer to the part of me that had ached for him last night. Even now, my body grew heavy and warm, wet for this cruel creature.

“Do not test me, vicious creature. I will swallow you whole.”

I believed he could.

I wished he would.

We stared at each other for a long moment, and I felt like a spider caught in a web as the elven prince drew nearer. His free hand moved down the side of my body before gathering my skirt. I shivered as the fabric rose, exposing my leg, and when his hand landed high on my bare hip, my breath caught in my throat.

He never looked away from me, his eyes still drowning in black, his mouth hovering close to mine. I would be lying if I did not admit how desperately I wanted to know the feel of his lips against mine.

“Say my name,” he said, the words a slow command. “My mortal name.”

Silence spread between us, and his fingers were close to my heat, with the palm of his hand pressed flat against my ass. My heart beat fast in my chest like fluttering fairy wings, and my muscles grew taut. If I said his name, would he touch me instead of teasing me?

“What will you give me?” I asked.

He reared back only a fraction, as if realizing he had shown too much surprise. He studied me, eyes narrowed, before the corner of his lip curled.

“What do you desire?”

As if he thought he could guess, his fingers pressed harder into my skin.

“A number,” I said.

His brows lowered, confused. “A number?”

“How many letters are in your true name?”

He stared and I could tell he was displeased with me. Had he hoped I might ask for his touch? I doubted he mourned that I hadn’t, more that I had not fallen for his seduction.

“Tricky creature,” he said, and this time, his fingers pressed against my throat, his lips grazing across my lower jaw to my ear where he whispered, “Seven.”

As he pulled back, his fiery eyes met mine. He loosened his hold on my neck, and the blood that had built in my head rushed away. I was dizzy and far more desperate than before to feel him inside me.

“Are you lying?” I asked, breathless.

Seven brothers. Seven years. Seven letters.

“I cannot lie,” he said, and I knew that was true.

I started at him and then his mouth.

“I am waiting, vicious creature.”

I stared at him a moment longer, searching his endless eyes, tracing his high cheekbones and arrogant smile. I leaned up and I could feel his breath on my lips. I wanted to taste his mouth, suck his tongue like a sweet sugarplum. I wanted him to writhe against me.

“Casamir.”

I hadn’t had any idea how his name would sound when it escaped my mouth, but it was so wrapped up in my desperate emotions, it sounded like a plea. There was a part of me that hoped it would work like a spell and break his control.

But he did not shiver or swallow. He did not press into me or tighten his hold.

He did lean in, and he moved his hand from my neck before pressing his lips to my throat, speaking in a hushed tone.

“Come when I call, sweet one.”

Then he vanished.

I remained against the vanity, mind scrambling to make sense of what had just transpired between me and the elven prince. My heart was still racing, and I could feel his phantom hands and the vines against my skin.

I should not have been surprised by his power. He had used it on my ax when thorns had sprouted from the handle and later when he tripped me as I fled into the enchanted night. But was that the power that made him a beast? Or was it something else entirely?

My gaze shifted as I caught movement from the window. The pixies I had chased from my room were gathered there, faces pressed against the glass.

I scowled and marched toward them, snatching the pillow from the floor I had thrown earlier and launching it at them. I knew it would do no good—they were on the other side of the glass—but it felt good to throw something.

The pillow landed with a soft plop and fell to the floor. The pixies giggled and flew off. I wondered what they had seen and who they might tell. Though it was more likely they just perceived me as another stupid mortal who had fallen for a pretty elven prince.

My gaze fell and I noticed that the broken window that had allowed the pixies entrance to my room was now mended, and while I’d have liked to feel a sense of gratitude toward the prince for the fix, dread filled my stomach like a bitter poison.

Elves did no favors.

What more did I owe the Prince of Thorns?

I left my room with some hesitation, uncertain of what I would find on the other side. I wanted to bring my ax, but the handle was still covered in thorns and impossible to hold. Even without a weapon, I did not wish to remain indoors. It was not in my nature, even when I resided in my cottage on the edge of the forest, even hating that whatever lurked between her branches watched. Worse, what would watch me within the beast’s—Casamir’s—realm?

My door opened to a stone hallway, the walls of which were covered in vines that flowered as I walked by.

Charming, I thought, except that the vines had thorns and they were red-tipped, as if each had pricked a person and drawn blood, and the flowers, which were white and pink and bell-shaped, were poisonous to the touch—a virtual death trap.

I followed them, careful not to knock into the wall. The hallway curved to the right, and I found myself on a portico lined with stone columns, wrapped in the same flowering vines. Beyond was a sprawling garden full of greenery and colorful flora. All around, rising jagged and sharp, were the tall and spindly spires of Casamir’s castle, caging me like the bars of a cell.

Above, the sky was blue but heavy with white clouds that were so low, I felt as though I could reach and touch them.

It was truly beautiful here.

It had been a long while since I had looked upon anything and thought it was beautiful. It was a mark of how my life had changed, not because of Casamir or the five elven princes or even the toad in the well—all of that had been inevitable. My life had changed because I had come to know death at a young age, first when he took my mother and then when he took my sister and eventually my father.

Sometimes I would yell at him in the middle of the night.

You are selfish to have left me alone!

Ah, young one, he would reply. It was not me who took your mother or your sister or your father. You killed your mother, you wished your sister dead, and your actions stole your father’s last breath.

He was not wrong, and when I questioned what I had done to deserve this loneliness, I remembered that I had made a terrible wish.

I hated that this place made me think of my family, and I ground my teeth against the feelings rising inside me, the strange cloudiness in my chest, the pinprick of tears in my eyes. I stepped out from the cover of the portico and into the garden.

A soft breeze caught my skirt, and it fluttered around me. I held on to handfuls of the flowy fabric to keep it from tangling in nearby brambles. As I wandered farther into the garden, it seemed to grow larger, full, taller, until it was all-consuming, and I could no longer see low-hanging clouds or even the pointed spires of Casamir’s castle. The path I had followed had long disappeared, overgrown with foliage, though it still remained before me. I wondered if this was Casamir’s magic or the magic of the Enchanted Forest? Were they one and the same?

I knew little about magic except that it was cruel.

As I continued, I was careful not to touch anything or look too long at a beautiful flower for fear it would hypnotize me and lead me to some cruel fate. I might not have anything to live for, but I did not wish to die here among the fae. The path I was on led straight to a murky pond. It was surrounded by tall blades of grass and flowering trees, the petals of which were scattered across the surface of the water, which was dark in color and crowded with star-shaped blossoms, but none of that drew my attention like the naked man sitting at the center of the pond on a rock.

He was a selkie, a shape-shifting fae. Their natural form was that of a seal, and it was a skin they could shed so they could walk on land as a human. The sealskin was valuable, as it was the only way the fae could return to their true form and their true home, the sea.

This selkie was far from home and careless to my presence, sitting with his hands slightly behind him, head turned toward the sky, allowing the sun to bathe his bare body in golden light. His hair was brown, tousled by the wind, and his skin was bronzed, reddening more as each second passed beneath its rays. His muscles were hard, and so was his cock, which he made no effort to conceal.

He spoke in a singsong voice, and the words made my skin prick with unease.

“There is nothing more sweet than a maiden’s call for me;

Body full of blood, a desperate heartbeat.

Warmed with lust, she comes to me frantic for release

And when that cloying death cry leaves her lips,

She breathes no more for me.”

The words were a hypnotic spell, a weapon selkies used to lure their prey. I could feel it clouding my mind, and a strange lust tore straight down my chest like a knife, cutting me to the core. I fell to my knees, gnashing my teeth, digging frantically into the dirt and pressing the clay into my ears until the lyrics of the selkie’s song were nothing more than a quiet mumble.

The lust dissipated and my body relaxed. I was disturbed by this creature’s magic. I remained on my hands and knees feeling unsettled. For a split second, I had lost control of myself, and it had not been a choice. The realization shook my entire body, and I was struck by how this contrasted so violently with how I felt when I was near Casamir.

At least my reaction to him was genuine, no matter how much I hated it. I was attracted to Casamir, and that was all it took to desire him.

The selkie, though, was a predator.

My heart still pounded in my chest, frenzied from the fae’s eerie song.

I gathered stones before rising to my feet, intending to use them as a weapon, but the selkie was no longer lounging on the rock. I scanned the pond for any sign of movement, but the water was still.

“Hmm, what do we have here?”

The voice came from behind me, and while it was muted, I could still make out the words. I twisted too fast and fell, a scream bubbling up from my throat. As soon as I landed, the selkie straddled me. He had round eyes that seemed to shift from blue to green like the waves of the sea. His hair was wet, weighed down and dripping.

“Who are you, young maiden?” he asked.

I lifted my knee, shoving it hard into his balls. The creature fell onto the ground, and I found myself astride him, lifting my rock-filled hands over my head, readying to strike him in the face until his teeth were broken and he choked on his own blood, but then I noticed the skin of a seal lying near and snatched it from the ground.

I stumbled back with the selkie’s skin in hand, and when he saw that I had it, his eyes grew wide.

“No, please! Give it back!”

I grinned and held one of the rocks to it.

The selkie need not know it wasn’t sharp.

“Is this important to you?”

“You know it is important, you terrible thing!” he shrieked, spittle flying from his mouth. He managed to rise to his hands and knees.

“You are right,” I said. “You cannot return to your true form without it, can you? What a shame it would be if it was cut to ribbons.”

“What do you want, terrible thing? I will give you anything!”

It was the promise I sought, but before I could speak, something hit my cheek. The impact felt like a sting. I pressed my palm to my face and drew it away to find blood. My eyes shifted to find something floating before me—a small creature with wings, a sprite.

It was dressed in the petals of a pink rose that was spattered with my blood.

The sprite charged at my face, and I swatted at it, but suddenly there was a great swarm of them, and all I could do was cover my face as they cut and kicked and bit.

I stumbled back and fell into the pond with the sealskin still clutched in my hand, unwilling to let it go even as someone attempted to yank it away.

The jerk brought me to the surface of the water, where I came face-to-face with the selkie again.

“Whatever you want,” he repeated, another promise. “Just give it back.”

“If you are lying to me, I will stalk you for the rest of your life. You will never bask in the sun. You will never step on land without fearing me. I will hunt you until I flay you alive and burn this skin before your eyes. Do you understand?”

The selkie glared at me for a moment, and then his lips spread into a wide grin.

“I like you,” he said. “I give you my word, terrible creature. I will give you your greatest desire.”

I released his skin, and he hugged it to his body. I instantly regretted letting my one weapon go, but he did not slither away into his swamp like I had expected.

“Clean your ears, terrible thing,” he said. “And tell me what you desire.”

I watched him, mistrusting.

“Do you doubt my word, thing?” he asked, irritation flaring in his eyes.

I held my nose as I dropped below the murky water, twisting my finger into my ears to dislodge the mud. I resurfaced as quickly as I could, thinking that the selkie would flee, but once again, he proved true to his word and remained where he was in the water.

“There now,” he said. “All better?”

“I need your prince’s true name,” I said.

“He is not my prince,” said the selkie. “And that is not your greatest desire.”

“You said you would give me what I desire,” I said. “I desire to know the prince’s true name.”

“I said I would give you your greatest desire,” he said. “There is a difference.”

We stared at each other. I wanted to accuse the selkie of lying, but I realized this was my error. I had not been careful enough in the wording of our bargain. Did the selkie know what I truly desired, or could he merely sense that I was lying? Terror filled me as I realized I had unintentionally given him power over me.

“What do you call the prince?” I asked.

“We call him many names,” he said. “The Thorn Prince, Prince of Thorns, Dreadful King, Shadow King. Some call him by his mortal name, Casamir, but those who do are very few.”

“Why few?”

He shrugged. “A name precedes you, and without one, you are nothing.”

“Then why go by a name that is not his own?”

“All fae go by names that are not theirs,” he said. “True names are for lovers. True names are for death.”

“Why only lovers and death?”

“A true name is a gift to the lover and a token to death.”

“How do I find a true name?”

“The prince must tell you,” he said.

“The prince will not tell me,” I said.

That would mean he willingly set me free, and I doubted his generosity unless it involved frustrating me and an abundance of thorns.

“He will tell you if he loves you.”

“You have lived too long in this swamp of a pond if you think the prince will ever love me.”

The selkie grinned, chuckling under his breath.

“I do not believe you, terrible thing.”

“I lost my ability to love a long time ago,” I said. “I do not want it back.”

“Perhaps you don’t,” he said. “And yet you still wish to be loved.”

The blood drained from my face.

“I have no desire to discuss this,” I hissed. “I need Casamir’s true name.”

The selkie studied me for a moment and then offered, “The mountains may know.”

“The mountains?”

“The elven lords are old. It is likely no one knows their true name, save that which came before them—the earth and the Glass Mountains.”

I frowned.

“The Glass Mountains are outside Prince Casamir’s realm.”

“So they are,” said the selkie.

“I cannot go beyond the wall,” I said.

Though I had said otherwise, I believed there were far worse creatures outside the his realm.

“Even if I managed it, I could not return in a day. He would notice I was gone.”

And then what?I wondered.

Would the Enchanted Forest reprimand me? Or perhaps Casamir’s five brothers?

“Perhaps you should fly,” the selkie suggested unhelpfully.

“I cannot fly.”

“Come back tomorrow,” said the selkie. “And I will give you wings.”

I hesitated.

“What would you ask for in return?”

“For now? Your smile,” he said. “But one day when you rule this castle, you will return me to the sea.”