“Down here, deary! A charm for you two?” I look down to see a toad sporting a red silk vest and finely tailored trousers addressing me whilst holding out a heart shaped vial with some swirling red smoke inside.
“Oh… ah, no thank you, we aren’t together…” I stammer and blush as I look at Oleander, who is also blushing. We hurry on, passing several stalls selling produce and meats but a stall selling baked goods makes me slow my pace and tug a bit at Oleander as I smell the delicious scent of homemade bread. She stops and chuckles at my longing look.
“All right, just wait here,” she reads my hungry expression and pushes past the crowd to get us some still warm pastries.
“Yum! What are these called?” I laugh as I take a big bite of the flakey, buttery pastry.
“These are fairy crescents,” she says, taking a big bite. I notice that the inside is slightly glittery.
“Just one will keep you full for most of the day, and they are pretty delicious,” she garbles around a full mouth and I laugh at all the crumbs on her face. I brush them off her cheek and pause with my hand resting on the side of her face, our eyes meet.
Oh Mother, what is she doing to me?I can hear Oleander’s plea within my mind and quickly lower my hand. The excitement that flutters within my gut from the longing in her tone catches me off guard. I have never felt this kind of attraction towards a woman before and wonder what it is about Oleander that is drawing me in. She is an insanely beautiful woman that could incinerate my ass with the snap of a finger but there is something soft about her as well that makes me want to get to know her more. I try not to stare as we finish up our fairy crescents then keep on pushing through the market, trying not to get distracted by the multitude of wonders. I find I am more aware of our touching skin than anything else as she guides me through.
When we are finally out, Oleander pulls me into a quiet alley so she can pause to smell the earring again.
“She was definitely in Inverdell. I suggest we go check the inn to see if the scent is any stronger over there.”
We continue on, weaving our way through tight cobblestone streets. We pass doors with colourfully painted wooden signs overhead, depicting different trades such as a seamstress, a cobbler and a herbal potion maker that I make a mental note of.I’d love to have a look in there.
There are a few haggard looking fae loitering in the darker corners that we try to avoid as we navigate through the narrow lanes, Oleander keeps a hand on my father’s sword and one at my low back as we scurry past. All the twists and turns have me feeling slightly dizzy and claustrophobic until we round a corner and step out into the bright, airy main square.
Across from us there is a big building with a bell tower and various little shop fronts lining the square. There are a few fae milling around a white marble carving of what I am guessing is The Divine Mother, although she appears to be birthing the Earth, rather than being the Earth itself as I had assumed. She is seated, leaning back on her hands with her head tilted up to the sky. Her hair is carved to look like cascading vines of flowers and ivy and she is looking up with an ecstatic look on her face.
“I thought the fae considered the Earth itself to be The Divine Mother,” I say, turning to see Oleander’s frustrated, jaw clenched expression as she looks at the statue.
“Some do, but more recently, in the last century, there has been a rising popularity of a new faith. The new popular belief is that the Earth was birthed by a fae goddess that they still call The Divine Mother. The more powerful fae have been indoctrinated by the new king and in turn, have been working at indoctrinating all those beneath them into believing they, the Elemental fae, are all powerful like The Mother. But The Mother made us all a partof her. We come forth from the land itself, not from a bloody fae goddess,” she seethes as she directs us past the statue. We get a few stares from the fae that have come to worship this version of The Divine Mother but Oleander doesn’t stop to react.
“I’m guessing your father is a supporter of the new belief?” I ask, checking on her from the corner of my eye. She just nods her head and keeps walking.
This guy sounds like a real piece of work.
We turn off onto a wider road and at the far end we notice a pack of vargs pacing in front of a large, multi-storied building. Oleander quickly grabs my arm and pulls me back around the corner and into the square before they can see us.
“Shit! Do you think they saw us?” I start to panic, “wait, would they even know who we are? Maybe we should just casually walk up there…” I start to suggest, but Oleander covers my mouth with her hand and shakes her head. She brings one finger to her lips to signal me to be quiet as she removes her other hand from my mouth and motions for us to duck down the adjacent alleyway.
When we round the corner she lets out a breath, as if she had been holding it in, and says, “they know who I am. Those are The King’s minions.”
“Are they searching for you? Is Marissa in there?” I question, grabbing both of her arms with my hands and giving her a little shake. A fae couple walks past the entrance to the alley and I quickly drop my hands. We both try to look like we are just loitering but I can’t help the panic that washes over me as I wonder what they might be doing to my sister in there and why they even took her there in the first place.
“No, my father gave up caring about me years ago. The King would not waste resources on tracking down a long gone runaway but I amknownby the vargs for my disruption of The King’s plotting and have been known to associate with the groupof rebels who call themselves the Order of The Sylvans. Your sister’s scent is very strong here and judging by the amount of guards I would say she is in there, although why they would stop in Inverdell rather than going straight to the Palace, I am unsure. The Palace is on the opposite side of this mountain range,” she explains, furrowing her brow and biting her thumb nail as she thinks. I am grateful for her honesty for once.
“Tell me about this new king, what are his plans? Why are you plotting against him?” I ask, dropping my voice low so no curious civilians can hear us.
“He usurped The Owl King; a kind, benevolent king who had been ruling the main landmass of Earth for centuries, the longest reign in recorded history. The Wolf challenged his beliefs and ways of ruling and amassed a following of zealots who believed in his claims of being a prophet of the new religion, sent by The Mother herself. They were preaching this new religion throughout the Continent until enough of the public were swayed and demanded a duel. The right of the duel hadn’t been invoked in thousands of years and it had widely been forgotten. However, it was written into the code. Fae cannot deny the code.” Oleander swipes a hand down her face, the memory of this clearly agitating her. “Sadly, there was no competition between a wolf and an owl. The Wolf had enough sense to abolish the tradition of the duel soon after his ascension to the throne.” Another fae couple passes the alleyway and Oleander grabs onto my hips and shifts me so my back is to the square and she is hidden behind me. The spot where her hands grabbed me tingles, a minor distraction from the terror rising in me, threatening to burst out of the cage of my chest.
Once the couple passes she continues in a hushed tone. “I had been a devoted student of The Owl when I was a small child and I cannot stand by while The Wolf continues his reign. He believes that we have become complicit to the suffering of ourland and thought The Owl too docile. He preaches that the lack of control the fae have over the lesser creatures is one of the causes. He is amassing some of the most powerful Elemental fae to aid him but I am unsure what they are planning or what his exact plans are for your sister, but I will do whatever I can to get her back!” I look down to see that my hands are shaking. The mention of The Wolf evokes the image of a wolf headed man sitting on the throne, snarling. The rising fear has me shaking and gasping for air.
“Nuria, look at me.” Oleander tries calming me as she cradles my face in her warm hands. My whole body is quaking as I lift my eyes to meet hers. I am just now noticing their soft golden flecks, hidden amongst the swirling browns and greens and I momentarily forget myself. Before I can read her thoughts she is pressing her lips to mine. I close my eyes and kiss her back.
Her lips are soft but almost painfully hot. She parts her mouth enough to give my bottom lip a little bite. I hear myself moan from afar, as if I am removed from my own body and watching from above. Our bodies meld together as she gently backs me into the alley’s wall and I shudder, feeling the cool stone on the palms of my hands contrast the heat of where our bodies touch. My shock is soon replaced by a trembling wave of warmth, radiating from where our lips meet, down to the space between my legs. I start to relax into the sensation but then she pulls away, ending our kiss just as abruptly as she had begun it.
“Well that worked,” she says, with a little laugh and a cheeky half smile. Her smile drops when she notices my shocked face turn into a scowl. “You were having a panic attack. Nuri, your sister is close and I think I may have a plan to get her back. We cannot falter now, we are too close,” she says, and continues telling me her plot as I just stand there, embarrassed and confused.
For phaseone of Oleander's surprisingly simple, yet genius sounding plan, we cut back to the market to purchase a charm that changes my scent enough to confuse the varg guards and a few other items that might assist me. The vargs have never seen my face so shouldn’t be on watch for me. The plan should work, hopefully.
I am wearing the musky scent of a male buffalo Metamorph, which to me smells vaguely of blue cheese. None of the guards give me a second glance as I walk straight past them and into the Inn. The ground floor is a busy tavern full of rowdy civilians and the occasional varg lurking at the corner tables. I avoid the front desk and bee-line it for a table with a bunch of empty tankards scattered on top. Turning away from the nearest varg to pull out a little white, frilly apron from my pocket. I tie it around my waist before snatching up the cups and making my way towards the kitchen.
The kitchen is way more chaotic than the tavern scene and I feel I am immediately in the way.
