A Court of One

We are all monsters here. Some have fangs and claws, while others have wings as dark as night and eat souls—innocent and evil alike. But there would never be a monster bigger than I had become, for I was willing, eager and had names to cross off my list before I was done. From my Court of One, I’d do wicked and vile things to save those who could not afford to be as awful as I could be.

I was told that this world ate warriors and bards alike. It drowned the babies of temperamental mothers and strangled those who flinched at their cries. Told that if I couldn’t eat the monsters, I should stand back and wait for the scraps. But I had no desire to eat what was left after I burned this world with war. Monsters, after all, didn’t love anything but war. That was the horrible truth of Elphame. Those who managed to survive the ugliness of this world were why Elphame was so ugly in the first place. And I’d learn that lesson in the same fashion as every other—on my knees, crawling through hell, tearing my soul apart and becoming comfortable with the monster within me.

From inside the frosted lands of the Winter Court, I was not the only vile creature that lurked, but I was the only one content with the darkness, wearing a mask crafted when I had first come into these cursed lands of the Fae. In the Golden Court, I’d learned how to wear that very mask. But from the war-torn fields of Elphame, I had realized I didn’t need the façade. We were all hideous beasts here, and I blended in perfectly, with or without it. The only difference between me and them was our motivations.

Within my once-enemy’s borders, I was covered in the smell of winter. My mask hid my broken soul, which yearned for darker places. Monsters can cry, can’t they? And that’s exactly what I was…broken. I was holding on for dear life, willing my heart to keep beating. A shattered soul felt like a childhood home burning to the ground and being the only one to have survived the flames. It tasted of ash, salty tears and burns that never fully healed. Willingly, I left pieces of myself scattered throughout a land that made no move to ease a single moment. I scrubbed off parts of myself from one end of Elphame to the other. I gave little bits of myself to the winds of a land that tried as hard for my death as I had for my life. But there was no room for wishes of better things in Elphame—only nightmares made of things that crept in the dark and attacked when your back was turned. Because that was what it took to endure Elphame—to survive her, the Caller of Crows.

With each passing minute I spent away from home, this new winter world became scratchy against my skin. The guise I wore chafed against every fiber of my being. It reminded me of the Golden Court, when I’d had to become a creature to be feared. I hadn’t thought I’d ever have to become that Crow again. But here I stood, shaving away at who I had died to become, to survive another day.

I stood in unwanted moments in a place that wasn’t my home. And Tylwyth was very much not my home. It didn’t matter how breathtaking it was. The beauty of it was stained with my wish to be somewhere darker and more feared. Nothing would ever be as soul-settling as the Dark Courts. No smell was as calming as breathing in the wind of home. More than anything else, nothing could wrap around my heart as tightly as Solas could. Everything else held a taint and an edge of laughter from the Gods. From within enemy territory, now an enemy to every other land, I was on my own and trying to find my way back home. Each day, I inched closer to terror, lost in a world I didn’t know and had no protection against.

I had left my home to find the truth and found my new path covered in shards of glass and new memories to stain my mind. Leaving Solas had been the most challenging part, even knowing what I’d have to do to get home. Since stepping into the Winter Court, running toward truths others would kill me to protect, I was torn between thrones—Fire and Ice, Dark and Winter, Truth and Lies, Life and Death, Blood and Bones. It was all or nothing. Final moves were left to play in a game I didn’t know or understand. But this was what it took to survive in Elphame—become a monster or be eaten by one. Kill or be killed.

I was taken from my home in Whitwick, died to keep mortals safe and found my new home in the land of Fae. And now, I was on the run once again—only this time, I didn’t want to burn everything or everyone. I only had one name on my list to hunt, and I’d focus my rage on the one who deserved the touch of a Soul-Eater—Solene, the Caller of Crows, the Lady of Blood and Bones, the blooded sister of Solas.

With my father tucked safely in Tylwyth, I breathed the air stained by my lies a little easier. I hadn’t gone too far from him since he had stepped out of Whitwick Gates and into the land that had stolen his daughter. He was still healing from Fae sickness. Going through the Gate without a drop of Fae blood felt like walking into the middle of a war. Hell on earth climbed down your throat and made you wish you hadn’t come. That my father was still alive was a surprise. On my first day here, I had hoped for death. And I remembered that day, regrettably…crystal clear.

Nix and Orrian, back from the Hallows, found me in my father’s bedroom, helping him put his shoes on. He was feeling better—not perfect, but better. The healer encouraged him to walk around and get used to Elphame and the magick his body naturally fought against. It would take weeks before his soul gave in to this new world and accepted the energy of Elphame. The thought that any of us had weeks of life left was amusing, but I kept that laughter to myself. My father had slept for twenty hours straight before he had called out my name in a panic. He looked how I had felt on my first day here, so long ago it seemed like someone else’s life I remembered, where everything hurt in a frostbitten and fire-burned sort of way. The air around me had smelled of seared flesh, scorched with flame and left rotting in the sun. Some things never changed. Even used to Elphame, I was still tired, scared and sore.

Once he saw I was okay, he calmed down and was ready for the mend. He had said he had too much to do to lie in bed all day. I, on the other hand, could have used a week in bed without the perils of Elphame gnawing at my insides. But I had only ever indulged in that luxury when my soul was near ruin and my deathbed called me by my full name, like a parent scolding a child.

“I’ve missed you,” I cried as soon as Nix was in my arms. He looked happy and rested, the Nix I remember meeting, the friend I’d had before my Taking. “Your sister… I’ve heard you found her?”

“I have, and I can’t thank you enough, Perdi. I feel—I don’t know—thankful, grateful, at peace.”

“You look it. You look like all the pieces of your soul are finally back where they belong.” I hugged him a little tighter. “You didn’t have to come back, Nix. There’s only war here now. Gone will be your peace.”

“My sister and every niece and nephew of mine are safe where they are. But you are my home now. Wherever you go, I will always be there.” He lifted one of the tears off my cheek. “You are my home, wherever that may be. I will always come when you need me.”

“So will I…for you,” I answered. “Where’s Orrian?”

“She’s probably eating someone or something,” he answered. It was only half a joke. “Now, what has happened to send you so far from home into Faolan’s land?”

I shook my head and tilted my head to the door. I could smell Christmas carrying on the cool breeze that was Faolan. “I’ll fill you in later.”

“Nix, I see you’ve made it back,” Faolan said as he stepped into the room.

“Almost didn’t. Your forest isn’t a walk in the park.” Nix tried for a joke, then shuddered. “What the hell is out there?”

“Imagine if you hadn’t had safe passage?” Faolan snickered. “And your little fairy is in the town center—not eating anyone, I hope.”

“There are no guarantees with her,” I answered.

Faolan searched my face for humor and looked to one of the guards in the room when he realized I wasn’t joking. The guard moved quickly, no doubt to check on Orrian. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be eating the children, but I couldn’t say for sure what she did when no one was looking. Even I was scared of her, and I considered her my friend.

“Sir, are you ready to see Tylwyth?” Faolan asked my father.

My father grinned while we got him dressed for Winter Court. Although he moved slow, he was the first out of the front door. Exploring a part of Elphame would be a dream come true for him. At a pace my father could walk, Faolan led us through the streets, pausing every so often to point out places he loved to visit. Each time we stopped, someone would step out of a shop and welcome us. My father was mortal, and I wasn’t sure yet what I was, but no one seemed to care. They were as warm to us as they were their own king.

I couldn’t help but notice how different it was in Tylwyth compared to the other places I had been unfortunate enough to know of and experience—how warm and kind they all were, regardless of who we were. My father tired after less than a half-hour and was led back to the house for rest and more herbal teas, very much against his wishes. This was his first time in Elphame, and he wanted to see it all in one day. Nix returned with him to settle in and snoop around, as I knew he was dying to do. Tylwyth was a mystery to most Fae, and Nix was nosey. I stayed with Faolan, curious about where he’d grown up.

“Your home is beautiful.” I finally broke the silence as we walked. “It’s not what I would have imagined.”

“We are not the symbol of the rest of Elphame. We have no desire to gain more lands or courts. From here, we watch as the rest of Elphame fights and squabbles over inches of land. We’re content just as we are,” Faolan replied. “Here, in Tylwyth, it’s home—not war, infighting or courts. It’s just home—nothing more, nothing less.”

“I can see why you love it here.” I smiled on the outside, but on the inside, I felt homesick.

“I recognize that smile, and it’s as fake as ever. As much as I enjoy showing you where I’m from, I’m sorry you’re missing your home and wish, more than anything, you were home right now. There’s a reason we never took part in the Taking of a Crow. It’s barbaric and cruel,” Faolan said. “Before you, I never went to the mortal lands during the Taking. I went to Whitwick before you, though. I wanted to see your realm, not conquer it. I stayed hidden and didn’t meddle or interact with your people until you.”

“What do you mean, until me? Why me?” I asked.

“Aoife,” he answered. “She told me about you and that you would interest those who wished the Gate remained open, those who wanted more of the mortal world than was ever allowed. She told me that you would close the Gate and end this madness. I suppose, at first, I was just curious. The mortal lands have always been a place of interest for the Fae. But I found myself going back over and over. I was no longer only interested in the mortal lands. I wanted to go back to see you. With you, I could pretend I wasn’t who I am. I could simply be Fao, without the throne or the demands and responsibility that came with it.”

“How could you pass through the Gate, but no one else could without sounding every alarm?” I asked. “You came every day.”

“I am not simply Fae. I am Daoine Uaisle, and my blood is Royal-born. My line is from the original Gentry, the original Fae. That alone gives me abilities others don’t possess. It is how I got you home and you and your dad both back here in one piece,” Faolan explained. “But I think it has more to do with my intentions. I never went to you with the purpose of harm. On days my temper was uneven or court business had me feeling aggressive or ill-willed, the Gate wouldn’t let me cross until I was calm.”

“I saw you almost every day. I imagine calm was a skill you learned quickly.”

“That skill was born out of necessity and had nothing to do with the Gate. Under my father’s rule, you didn’t survive the Winter Court without learning to swallow every emotion.”

My skin crawled thinking of his childhood, and I quickly changed the subject. “Solas and his father were from the original lines, weren’t they?”

“Yes and no. Both were of the guard, part of the original Elphame Guardians. The Aos Si comes from that line. Solas and his father were not original Royals until they seized land and created their own court. They created their line. During the wars, my family was locked outside of the wall when we were fighting the rebels. We had no choice but to build our lives outside of the Court of Blood and Bones. We fought to protect this court, not for territory but for peace. We took in everyone we could and built Tylwyth to shelter them. Tylwyth is made of those from different lines. Very few of us come from my line through blood.”

“His sister, Solene… She’s still a Lady of the Court of Blood and Bones,” I told him.

He squirmed a little at the mention of her name. But I think everyone did, not just him. “My cousin, Solene. She’s my cousin and more than just a lady of that court. She is that court. When her mother died, it all went to her. She comes from one of the original families, like Solas and me. The court began with two families, each creating a line—one of Royals and one of Guardians,” he explained. “She is from the line of Seers, a Royal Seer at that, given who her mother was, while Solas was born into Guardianship, like his father. When a child is born here in Elphame of two different courts, there is a half-chance they’ll have the powers of their mother or father. It depends on who is stronger. Solas and his sister were born into two different powers. Only the women of the court can become Seers. It skips males. As for Guardians, they are only male.”

My mouth dropped. “Solas is your cousin? How am I only just now learning this?”

Faolan laughed. “All of us trace our lines to Blood and Bones, to one of the two founding families. We are related through blood. But we do not practice those relations as humans do.”

“Weddings must be monstrous here.” I joked.

“We don’t have weddings here, not like the mortal realm. We don’t have wives or husbands. We are oathed to each other for life. Consorts, we’ll call them if we must give them a name. We are coupled, and we blood oath ourselves to them until the end of our life.”

“Have you ever given your oath to another?” I asked and felt my cheeks heat. I didn’t really have the right to ask him that question, but I couldn’t help it. There was so much about him that I didn’t know—and damn it if I wasn’t curious now that the curtains had fallen. “Hundreds of years seems like a long time to be alone.”

“No, not yet. Giving your oath is severe, Perdi, and not done lightly. No matter the circumstance, we cannot leave once we’ve given our oaths. Unlike in the mortal world, where you can leave your mate, we can’t do that here. Here, that oath lasts for as long as your heart beats. Hundreds of years is a long time to be with someone you don’t love or someone who treats you poorly.” Faolan’s mind was elsewhere. He’d grown up in a home with two people who didn’t want each other, and it had played out over his mother’s flesh, day in and day out. “There are times when the choice is not yours. And when that happens, those are very long years to be tied to them if you can’t stand their touch.”

“Like an arranged marriage?” I asked.

“That isn’t as common anymore, but it still happens. Usually, it is done between courts to strengthen their ties. In those cases, most are not contested. But an arrangement is not permitted anywhere in the Unseelie Courts. Neither Solas nor I will allow it.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“There is no tie I want to have bad enough to force two people into a lifetime together. We live too damn long to be saddled with someone we hate or that hates us.”

“The idea that I’d be trapped with someone who hated me for all my days is scary.” I thought of my time in the Golden Court, and my stomach flopped at the idea that I could have been stuck there on the arm of the dead King.

“When fate chooses for you, there isn’t much you can do about it. You just try to make it work. But it is breathtaking when it is a good match, and there isn’t much work to be done. You become one. It is everything we hope for, to be tied to someone we would die for, someone who will care for us in our final moments. Like mortals, we, too, crave companionship and love. It is everything one could ever want. But it is also terrifying. I’d suggest never coming between two who are oathed. It can be deadly, to no real fault of their own. The men, especially, can be overly territorial. But the ladies? I’d fear them even more. They won’t just kill you. They’ll torment you first.”