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Thing is, my sisters and I don’t share bloodlines, but we’re the same age, and we’ve got another trait in common that strangers tend to gawk at. Our irises match the rare shades of our hair.
I spot that mysterious border. Three trees stand beside one another. A hawthorn, an oak, and an ash. The Triad is forbidden. But it’s either that or die.
It hits me for real. I’m a mortal lost in Faerie.
That’s the thing about our home. It’s a refuge for stray, orphaned, and foundling animals. My family’s rescued too many creatures to count, giving them a home at the Fable Dusk Sanctuary.
Uninterested in the politics of the distant Seelie and Unseelie Courts, the Solitary Fae spend their lives independent of the kingdoms.
“Whatever happens to one of us, happens to each of us.” “Together,” Juniper agrees with a nod. “All or nothing,” I say.
“You’re one of The Three. You’re the one who rules the sky.” The Fae smirks. “Come now. You make me sound vicious.”
Read between the lines. Stay vigilant of twisted words and promises they won’t keep. And no matter what, be polite.
“I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but: What you speak, you cannot unspeak.”
“Never lie to a Fae.” “Never doubt the truth.” “Choose your truths wisely.”
“I didn’t see anyone, either,” Cove claims. So I muzzle up, too. We absorb the lies, pretending we can’t tell, pretending to believe each other.
It dredges up an old vision of young, unearthly eyes staring from behind a bird’s mask, the pupils impish and furious. Last night hadn’t been my first encounter with a Fae. Though back then, I was too young and smitten to be guarded.
Mutinous Lark, your task is painfully simple. Don’t look down. Watch your step. Fear the wind. Follow the wind. Lose your path. Find your way. Welcome to The Solitary Mountain.
A smart person would hold her tongue. A smart person would be Juniper or Cove.
“A lark,” he observes. “The rare bird that sings while flying, rather than while perched and idle like the rest of its kin. Hence, a human with a sky-worthy signature and hair as white as a cloud—a stray, unattainable thing. Is that what you are? A stray?”
In his proximity, my nostrils get a whiff of musk and tempests. For the second time in our brief history, the scents resurrect a memory I can’t place. Cerulean frowns, stumped by something, though his reaction can’t be for the same reason as mine. We’ve never met before.
The moth’s glamour had told me plenty. None of the previous humans who navigated this mountain survived. That’s why they never returned home. I’m the newest toy.
I’d like to ask my share of things, too. Why does it feel like we’ve stood this close to each other before?
I can do this. I can. No, I can’t. There’s no way I can reach the top of a Fae mountain, for a hundred reasons that don’t need listing.
A Fae boy in a feathered mask, giving me a long look before fleeing into the wild. Him, my one and only secret, even from my family. Him, my one exception. Me, sitting in an empty forge. Me, awaiting his return, my lips dry and chapped.
“Illusions thrive here. Make the correct turn? Not so fast, for those paths may be glamoured to appear correct. A route you trusted might betray you. This land is a double-edged sword. Even if you win, you won’t win.
Once in my past, in my very own Fable, I did this exact thing with a Fae boy. A cage had separated us, except that barrier had been forged of iron—and he’d been the one locked inside.
My palm skims the pack concealing the blue feather of my past. The one that Fae boy had been wearing when I met him, as part of a mask concealing his face. After I lost him, it was the only thing I had left of our time together.
“You display more sass than you’re wise to.” “Sounds like a compliment.” “You should be so lucky.”
My sisters are depending on me as much as I’m depending on them. We’re in this together. All or nothing.
“I hate to break this to you, but I’ve got no clue why I foiled your ruler’s glamour. I don’t even know how I’m still alive. I just am.”
“Polite? Are you fucking joking?” He leans down, his breath tapping my lips. “Probably, conceivably, unlikely.” I hate that my mouth shivers from the contact. I hate that I want to believe him. And I hate even more that I don’t.
Then I’m thinking, maybe nothing’s ever as distant as it seems. If moon rays can strike a Fae’s shoulder, and if a bird’s call can travel a great distance, and if a girl can find herself galloping from one world to the other, maybe that same girl can reach the top of a mountain.
The Fae are made of fifty percent magic, fifty percent ulterior motives.
“Why can’t I feel just one thing around you?” I ask. “Why do I feel many things around you?” he replies.
“Why did you save me?” “Why are you complaining?” he evades.
What’s the point? She wouldn’t believe me if I told her, and I reckon it’s not worth the effort. What do I expect? She’s been raised to scorn humans, same as we’ve been raised to rue the day Faeries were born.
I’m just a girl who’ll fall the moment her foot slips, the moment she reaches out for things she can’t have. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time…
I hustle backward, leaving the door open for him. Before I lose my nerve or start to cry, I lift my chin. And I whisper, “Go.”
Guess sorrow’s like this. One moment it’s gone, then it surges back with a jolt, kicking you right in the teeth.
Don’t know why, but he looks disturbed. “Will you tell me more?”
“That’s where I get my name from. Since I didn’t have one when Papa found me, he suggested that I name myself. So I chose Lark, to thank the bird for giving me hope.”
“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.”
His back muscles flex. He gazes over the mantle of his shoulder and hitches a brow at me. “I never said she was a Fae.”
The one who helped him escape was a mortal. He was locked in a cage, in Reverie Hollow, and a mortal girl set him loose. This is no coincidence.
“For every human nuisance we eradicate, a creature who was vanquished shall be granted a second bout of life.
It’s one thing to figure out the truth. It’s another to hear it spoken. And it’s a whole other thing to accept it.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I tear myself from Cerulean’s arms. I catch his astonishment seconds before I race from the dance floor. Slamming past gorgeous wings and ghastly visors, I plow through the ballroom and fly into the nearest passage.
“It’s you,” he says, gazing at me with bright eyes. “It’s me,” I reply, my voice cracking.
If I win, he’ll lose his future like the rest of these mountain dwellers. If I fail, he’ll grieve over me, because I’ll be dead. Either way, he loses me. Either way, I lose him.
I kiss him because this is all we have left, all we’ve really ever had, and all we’ll ever have. Bond or no bond, this can’t go anywhere. Not with our realms, our kin, my humanity, and his immortality at odds.
“Remember the rules. And Lark?” “Moth?” I drawl. “For the eternal wild.”
I remember being little, telling Cerulean to go. I remember being older, Cerulean telling me to go.
A thousand stones crumble from my shoulders. He’s trying to help me, not stop me. He recouped that bargain from the summit not to sabotage me but to guard me on these bridges.
I slide my gaze over to Cerulean’s and give him a weak smile. His eyes flare wide. “No!” His lilt cracks, piercing the dawning sky. “No, Lark! I promise, I’ve got you! I’ve got you!” My words tremble. “You’ve always had me.” And that’s why I let go.
