Still, I doubt Cerulean will glamour me into serving out my punishment. That would reduce him to the sloth I’d accused him of being.
“Too easy,” I predict.
“Too commonplace,” he agrees.
We glower at each other. The Fae studies me, the blast of his gaze pushing me to step back. I’m cheeky, but I’m not a moron.
At my retreat, cruel satisfaction perches on his face. He saunters backward and spreads his arms in a welcoming gesture. “So be it. You declare yourself the braver species. Let us test that with a bargain, shall we?”
“Try me, pretty Fae.”
“Oh, but I intend to. Providing you reach the top.”
“The top of what?”
Cerulean’s mouth flies upward, wreathing into a grin. Mutely, he tips his head to the side, glancing askance at the throne summit. The haze dissolves, its curtain spreading to display the mountain range and its secrets. Halos of mist crown the peaks. Shingles of ivy crawl up the cliffsides. Lanky trees spear the air from various elevations along with scattered rowans in denser areas, several of the trunks bobbing in the breeze as if they’ll topple over at any moment.
There’s more. Rungs, ramps, and inclines materialize in and out of the fog, either carving through or linking passages together.
The vista resembles…
Fables eternal. The mountain is a fucking maze.
8
This might be the first time Cerulean leaves me speechless. After a moment’s hesitation, I take sloppy steps across the rotunda and slip between a pair of trunks. I pause several feet from the rim and gawk at the panorama.
The Book of Fables says Faerie is a realm of layers and distortions to the mortal eye, if not utterly invisible. The Solitaries of the sky live in a mountainous puzzle of jagged slopes and windswept rowans, the bluff’s peaks hacked through with dizzying bridges, steps, and drops.
Lots of drops beneath the stars.
A kettle of hawks sails overhead, their wings leaking gold dust. The mystical birds veer sideways, performing a spiral formation. Rapt, I scurry nearer to the bluff’s ledge, then gasp as the elements thrash about. A feral burst of air shoves me forward. My frantic heels dig into the ground, but a second gale intercepts, yanking me out of harm’s way.
“Careful,” a voice chides from behind. “Very careful, or you’ll fall.”
I whirl on Cerulean. He leans against a rowan dripping with berries, his shoulder propped against the bark and his arms crossed. A breeze caresses his clothing, disturbing the untucked linen shirt, loose trousers, and long russet coat. The lapels split, flaunting the javelin at his hip.
He regards me with an impassive expression, one capped ear peeking from the hair whisking around his face. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he prevented me from taking a nosedive.
Thanking Faeries is taboo, so I round my shoulders. “What’s your price for that?”
A condescending smile tugs on his face. “Be reasonable. We’ve yet to begin. Thus, I can’t have you plummeting to your demise this early. That would be impolite, and you’re not sufficiently desperate to trade favors with yet. Do you fancy the view?” He studies me and muses, “A moment ago, you looked riveted.”
“If riveted comes with a dash of revolted, sure.”
All right, I’m fibbing. Because unlike them, I can do that.
In actuality, the scene robs me of breath—the rush of air, the elevation, those birds. As for the rest of this, I’ll see hisrivetedand raise him a big fatpetrified.
I swerve toward the mountain. Somewhere up there, knaves infest the land, winged predators circle, and intersecting bridges lead to who knows where—or how far down. I make out breaks in the trees, the thickets brimming with torchlight.
Atop one crest, a cylindrical tower of flat stone rises from a pinnacle. From a different ridge, another circular—but wider—edifice stands.
Cerulean had said something about me reaching the top. So that’s his bargain.
Is this what happened to the mortals who were lured here? Did these monsters force or compel humans to stumble around this range while being baited, tricked, and tormented? What heinous world is this, where villains reside in the bowels of a veritable mind fuck?
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.
