10

Ifelt much more relaxed and energized after our little break, but Apollo, to my surprise, seemed to grow even more pensive, and as our route split in two by a knoll shaded with curious orange trees, I couldn't help but wonder about the accuracy of our direction.

"Left or right?"

"Left," he said without a doubt.

My eyes drifted to the tall apple tree that stretched out above us, where a little sprite was currently gorging herself on a shiny red apple.

"Maybe we should ask for directions. Just to make sure," I suggested.

Apollo scowled. "We don't need directions. We're going left."

"You look apprehensive," I pointed out, and in apt synchronicity, the vein in his forehead ticked, ticked, ticked.

"I look annoyed," he deadpanned. "It's because you're annoying me."

Gods, the mood swings of this man! And to think that a few minutes ago I was actually enjoying his company.

I turned my back on him, hooked my hands on my hips, and chimed politely to the sprite above us, "Excuse me, Miss? Could we bother you for directions?"

The sprite ignored me, her face still buried in the apple.

"Um, excuse me?"

A contemptuous little laugh came from Apollo. I glared at him over my shoulder. He rolled his eyes, put two fingers under his tongue, and whistled. The sprite finally looked down at us, irritated, if not a bit murderous.

Apollo gifted her his charming little half-smile. "Hello there, beautiful."

The sprite, to my utter astonishment, perked up the second she settled her round purple eyes on him. The apple fell from her little hands and tumbled on the sod at my feet. She turned a burning shade of pink, looking truly thrilled, and grinned a cunning, sharp-toothed smile. "Hello, handsome."

Oh, for goodness' sake.

"Which way is Fairyland, beautiful?"

She lay down on a branch, lowered her glinting lashes, and asked in a tiny but sultry voice, "Looking for trouble, aren't you?"

Apollo shrugged with his hands in his pockets, the portrait of boyish carelessness. "Only way to cross to the other side, isn't it?"

The sprite nodded and gestured right from the knoll. "From the path you sometimes see and you sometimes don't, it's faster, but the route gets steep and rocky. A little dangerous for land-bound creatures." Then she pointed left. "The path that's always there will add twenty minutes to your journey, but it's smoother. Just follow the wild basil. It's a straight line to Fairyland—although some people would not find this a very good thing."

Apollo mocked me with a haughty raise of his brows. "Told you."

"Thank you for your time," I sighed to the sprite.

Her lips widened to a monstrous, nightmarish grin. "Go get your ears eaten."

A kind of terror descended on me. "What?"

"It's how we say good luck in the North," Apollo interjected.

"That's… not disconcerting at all," I dryly muttered.

Apollo tipped his jaw for me to follow. "Come on, we've wasted enough time."

When I lifted my gaze again, the sprite was gone, and only a thin trail of glittering dust remained behind.

The path left from the orange knoll was indeed smooth and welcoming. In fact, the forest seemed to get out of its way to clear our path. The trees and brambles were shuffled to the side so neatly that you'd think they'd been planted there by an assiduous gardener instead of nature's hands.

I wondered if the sprite had called this the path that was always there because of how uncannily convenient it was—I could not imagine it being blocked even during the snowy winter months. Perhaps the fairies paved the way with the help of magic to lure humans into their domain. After such a pleasant journey, any traveler would be much more relaxed and therefore easier to trick.

After several minutes of echoey silence, I finally cast Apollo an inquisitive glance. "You can't help yourself, can you?"

"And we're talking about…" he trailed off, the sarcasm sizzling in his voice.

"Your incessant flirting with everything that breathes."

"Careful, Nepheli," Apollo drawled. "You sound jealous."

"Don't be ridiculous," I hissed. "I was merely wondering if this odious habit of yours is what has earned you your ominous title."

"My title?"

"Prince of Broken Hearts?"

"Ah," he mocked.

"So?" I persisted.

"So, I still think you sound a little jealous."

I'd never met a person who was more averse to straight answers than Apollo Zayra. It was a miracle that he wasn't going into physical shock every time I opened my mouth.

I raised my chin defiantly. "Believe it or not, Apollo, not every woman in the Realm is obsessed with you."

Apollo smirked. "Says the woman who slept in my arms all night long."

"Yes, and I almost suffocated under the weight of your giant—"

"Cock?"

"Ego!"

Suddenly, Apollo's hand jutted out and seized my arm.

"What—" I started with a gasp as he yanked me to his side.

"We're here," he said, his eyes manic, flicking toward every direction at once.

My brows knit. "There's nothing he—"

At once, the most curious sight befell my eyes.

Opalescent swirls of mist emerged from the underbrush, wrapped around the barks of the trees, and braided through the saggy branches. The vapor glazed everything with its eerie, dewy tactility, dancing in the air like the prelude to some thrilling fever dream, luring and sensuous, and secretly lethal. A glum, tomb-like silence fell over the forest, as if every living creature that was previously buzzing and chirping with life met its sudden death.

My heart skipped a beat. The breath thinned in my lungs. Fear burrowed deep between my shoulder blades.

I tightened my grip around the handle of my parasol and whispered, "What is happening?"

The mist dispersed slowly, dreamily, revealing a grand, marble archway. Two glowing pillars and a pediment emerged from the sod, the massive, pale stones sculpted into masterful representations of flowers and vines, stars and suns, and tiny fairies holding up jugs outbursting with fairydust, each carving so detailed and animated I could have sworn they were one breath away from coming into life. Strange yellow-hued branches sprouted from the ground and twisted up the columns, pink and lilac flowers tumbling like a head of curls over the edge of the pediment.

Everything around me faded out, blended into a haze of unimpressive shapes, darkness sweeping over and sucking out all the colors until the arch was the only beautiful thing left in the world, the only thing worth seeing.

"Gods, it's magnificent," I gasped, stretching out my hands. I longed to thread my fingers through the pretty leaves and press my palms flat upon the stones. I was certain they'd be cool like rain to the touch, and my hands all of a sudden were hot and sweaty, and I craved the relief.

Apollo seized both of my wrists and spun me around. "Nepheli, focus on me for a moment, please," he urged, and although he was standing right in front of me, it was still very hard to discern the lines and contours of his face.

All I wanted was to turn and gaze at the glorious arch again. I wanted to touch it and be absorbed by it. I wanted to become something as interesting and beautiful as it was.

Apollo was saying something, his deep voice reaching me like sea foam. Every time I was about to grasp it, it retreated into the arms of the ocean.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" I mumbled, my eyes trailing back to the arch.

Apollo took my jaw in his rough hand and squeezed my cheeks hard enough to hurt. "At the edge of Fairyland, there is a bridge we'll have to cross. Once we reach it, we'll be safe. But until then, you cannot, under any circumstances, wander off and certainly not look behind you. You should never look behind you in Fairyland. That's how they trap you. Most fairies are incorporeal until you acknowledge them. Once you do, things can get very real, very fast. So no matter what the fairies tell you, you cannot believe them."

"Why shouldn't I believe them?" I manage to form the question, my voice echoing in my ears.

"Because one's greatest desire is oftentimes one's greatest prison," Apollo said.

There was something about his words and his tone that jolted me a little. "Apollo—" I heaved. "I'm a Curiosity. I don't know if I can do this. I would want to look—I already want to."

Inexplicably, Apollo gripped the edge of his shirtsleeve and ripped it off the seams.

"What are you doing?" I squeaked.

"Making sure you don't become some capricious fairy's slave," he growled as he brought the fabric over my eyes and tied it in an almost painful knot behind my head.

Once my eyes were covered, my senses resharpened. Apollo's fresh scent, the warmth of his body, his fingers on my face—everything became stark again, and my previous fascination morphed into ice-cold fear.

"Can you see anything?" he asked, adjusting the blindfold lower on my face.

I shook my head. "No, nothing. Will you be okay?"

"Magic is an emotional practice. I don't have the heart to be affected by it," he explained, guiding my hand to his arm so I could hold on to him.

"You sure you're ready?" he insisted.

My fingers tightened on his bicep. "Just…don't let go."

Apollo released a breath. "Right back at you."

The first few steps were easy. The ground beneath my boots was smooth and sturdy. I could tell that we had passed under the arch because the very air in my lungs changed, sweetened, and the scent was weirdly nostalgic, reminiscent of golden summer honey and crisp autumn apples. The silence thickened, too. Nothing moved in the undergrowth, nothing shone through the fabric of my blindfold, nothing chirped between the boughs.

"Apollo?" I whispered, digging my nails into his arm.

"I'm right here," he reassured. "I got you."

Then the voices came.

Low, clear, mirthful voices caressed my ears like a lover's whisper, enticing and seductively irreverent. A cool breeze rushed through me, raising the hairs at the nape of my neck. My skin pebbled. My breath caught in my throat.

I'm right behind you, one warbled, and indeed something like vaporous hands fiddled with my hair. If you turn around and play with me, I'll make sure your life is always filled with magic and curiosity.

I bit down on my tongue, trying to keep my senses taut. But my body felt nearly afloat, drifting by into some pretty, otherworldly realm.

Different voices reached me, all cheerfully impatient. If you stay with me, I'll show you the face of your one true love—But if she stays with me I will show her the world—Yes, but I will show her the stars—Νo, the moon—No, the Realm where the gods bask in their eternal glory.

Then came another voice, and unlike the others, it was deep and vast and exceedingly dreadful. It crawled inside me and grasped my tender little heart into its claws. It squeezed it until I was certain it had crumbled, that I would return home an empty vessel.

No, it cooed, she'll stay with me. Because I'm the only one who can save her from him. What? Don't tell me you believed him, Nepheli. A heartless man's promise? Darling, it mocked, its tone growing dauntingly similar to Apollo's, he's going to devour you whole. He's not helping you. He's taking you to his lair. You're almost there. Just lift your blindfold and see for yourself.

Suddenly, I became hyperaware of Apollo's body next to mine, his strong hand slipping to my waist to press me to his side. Pressing and pressing until I could no longer breathe. My vital organs were pressurized into my ribcage, and my heart had no other choice but to rise to my throat, and—Here he holds you like a gentleman, but there's the dagger, shining in his other hand. A pretty betrayal. He's going to carve your heart out and eat it raw.

And we all know he is going to do it slowly, a shy little voice considered.

So, so slowly, one added.

Then a cruel little laugh. And no one will come to save her. That's for sure. Her family left her behind. Her lover too.

She can't even save herself. She knows nothing of life. Nothing of use. All those silly books. Will she make a weapon out of meaningless words now?

Pressure packed down my chest. A sob left me.I didn't want to listen anymore.I wanted to disappear. I wanted to be inscrutable, something that couldn't be judged. I wanted to run away, and hide deep in the heart of Fairyland, and be lost forever. And I had the vague sensation of running already, although not with my own two feet. As if Apollo had bundled me into his arms and was now sprinting through the forest, anxious to take me to that wicked lair of his, where all the other girls had lost their hearts before me.

And of course, she has no friends to help her either, the voices persisted, cutting me open, bleeding me slowly. Always too eager, too awkward.

All she does is talk to herself all day.

Death suits her. She's been dead for a long time now, anyway.

Yes, yes. Let him feast on her heart.

Let him leave nothing behind.

The dark, fathomless voice emerged again. What a waste. Such a pretty face for such an odd girl.

"Stop," I whimpered. My blindfold was wet with hot tears, and I reached up to wipe my burning face.

"Nepheli? Are you alright?" Apollo's muffled voice sounded somewhere around me.

We stopped moving. Although numb in my fear, I was still able to feel his fingers digging into the skin of my shoulders as he put me to my feet. "Let go of me!" I panted, reaching for the blindfold.

"Nepheli, no!" he grunted, trapping my wrists in a painful, viselike grip.

In a sick panic, I tried to wrench myself free. "Stop, you're hurting me!"

Apollo let go of me so fast that I lost my balance and toppled over the ground. Sucking a dollop of breath back into my lungs, I propped myself on my elbows. I wanted to stand and run, but a crippling, sinking sensation overtook me. The undergrowth came to life, eager to swallow me into its depths. What felt like vines threaded around my ankles, my torso, my neck. They pushed me into the ground until the cold dirt was all I could feel. I was going to die here. I was going to turn into soil. I was going to grow roots and morph into a tree.

And no one would even miss me.

"Please, get these off me! Get them off! Please!" I shrieked in a frenzy and fumbled for the blindfold again.

Apollo descended on top of me and held me down for the vines to do their worst. "Nepheli, the fairies are messing with you. It's just me. There is nothing on you, I promise."

His weight between my thighs became as unbearable and oppressive as the vines. I thrashed for freedom until my body trembled from as much exhaustion as terror.

"Get away from me!" I howled.

Here comes the dagger, the fairies sang.

"Nepheli, please, we're so close to the bridge!"

I readied myself for the sharpness of the blade. I tried to summon some dignity, but there was only fear and regret in me—the most undignified kind of despair. "Please, don't kill me," I begged him with a ragged sob. "I want to live. I haven't—I haven't done anything yet. Please, I need more time!"

Apollo growled. "What are they telling you, damn it?" He pinned my wrists above my head and immobilized me completely by leaning forward to bring his chest flush against mine. "I'm sorry, Nepheli. But I don't know what else to do," he said. And bit me.

First, his hand clamped down on my jaw, angling my head to the side, and thenhis hot mouth was on me. It was no light nimble or gentle graze. His teeth pierced that tender spot on the base of my throat, and I was instantly flooded with horror. A cry burned out of my lips, fresh tears stinging in my eyes. The pain slowly took hold of me, squeezing in between the fog of my thoughts and the numbness of my bones.

Suddenly, everything came back to me in a bright swipe of memories; the creatures, the Celestial Door, my Shop waiting for me to return.

I put my hands on his shoulders and tried to shove him back as his tongue glided over my throbbing skin, trying to soothe the sting of his bite. "Stop!" I snarled. "Apollo, I swear to the gods, if you don't move your mouth from me right now, I will spend the rest of my life trying to find a way to kill you!"

"Oh thank the gods," he heaved, and I knew he was off me because I could breathe again, and my body began shivering from the abrupt lack of his warmth.

I searched blindly for something to hold on to. "Apollo?"

"I'm here, darling. You're okay," he soothed as he slipped one hand under my knees and one around my waist to bundle me up in his arms. "Are you with me?"

"Yes," I croaked. "Just get me out of here."

"Put your arms around my neck and don't let go again, okay?"

The moment I did, he started running so fast that the air whipped over us with a near-unnatural force. Until all I could hear were his labored breaths and the hiss of the wind, manic and reverberating, as though we were speeding through a large tunnel. I knew it had only been minutes, but it felt as though hours had passed by until Apollo let me down to my feet again.

The blindfold was dragged away from my face, and light blazed over my eyes like a theater's spotlight, white and troublingly bright. My senses hummed back to life as I took everything in: the shadowy embrace of the forest, the impenetrable canopy of branches, and Apollo, bending down to grasp his knees with the curvy handle of my parasol dangling like a sword from the strap of his baldric.

I didn't know if I wanted to thank him or slap him across the face.

"You okay?" he panted at the ground.

Tremulously, I brought my fingers to the tender skin at the curve of my neck. The spot he'd bitten was still throbbing with pain, and I had no doubt it already bore an ugly bruise. "I can't believe you bit me!"

Apollo gritted his teeth, red-faced and breathless. "Pain was the only thing that could snap you out of the fairies' influence. I could never hit you—"

"So you bit me!"

"Yes, damn it!"

"And you couldn't have bitten my wrist, you heathen?"

Apollo straightened up and growled at me like a beast indeed. "I just saved your life, and this is what you have to say to me?"

"Saved my life? Saved my—You're the reason my life was in danger to begin with! I was safe. I was home, and I was happy and—"

—and I was blissful in my ignorance, not knowing how cruel and unlovely magic could be.

An inexplicable, almost irrational sense of grief befell me, as though I'd lost something very important. Perhaps my idea of what curiosity actually looked like beyond magical trinkets and ink on paper.

Apollo had been right. Curiosity was dangerous. Magic was dangerous. Perhaps the Dreadful Mundane hadn't come to Elora to strip it of its color, but to save us from such cruelty. Perhaps it wasn't a sickness, but a blessing.

"Nepheli?" Apollo insisted, his tone a perfect dichotomy between calm and urgency. "What did the fairies tell you?"

I averted my eyes, busying myself with dusting the dirt and moss off my skirts. "Nothing."

"You were so scared," he pressed. "I don't understand. I've crossed Fairyland many times, but nothing like this has ever happened before. They've tried to tempt me, but that's all. They only ever promise sweet nothings to me."

"Of course, you idiot!" I exploded, my blood quickening with anger. "You're fearless. You don't have a heart to feel scared, truly scared. Of course, their only option is to toy with your desires."

His throat bobbed. His eyes softened. "I should have realized—"

"Well, well, well. If it isn't my favorite man in the whole wide Realm," someone drawled in a low, husky voice, and we both spun to our left.

A little cobblestone bridge arched over a viridescent pond, and at one of its low, ornamental pillars, a stunning fairy sat. Her skin was the color of a sunset, her hair was the pink of freshly kissed lips, and her eyes were catlike, yellow, and curious. A pair of veiny, translucent wings flapped rapidly behind her back, so big and wide they filtered the sun, breaking the light apart in countless crystal-hued strips.

She crossed her long legs, and the high slit of her gauzy dress parted tantalizingly as she cocked her head to the side with a coy little smile on her lips. "Apollo, sweetheart," she said wittily, fully aware of the irony of calling a man without a heart sweetheart, "what great offering have you brought me this time?"