Faerie Magic (Curse of the Fae Book 1) Page 3

  But that made sense. They were probably related to the string of folks waiting to come in that I’d passed in line.

  The woman with me pressed her hand into the small of my back and led me to sit in a chair alongside the depressing brownish-yellow walls.

  She sat beside me and folded one leg over the other.

  “Do you have anything further to add, Ms. Bingham?”

  At the front of the room sat a judge in a familiar black gown seated at the head of the courtroom. Her voice was authoritative and demanded respect as she asked her question.

  I sighed softly. Finally, a person I was used to. Even though it was a judge and they hadn’t been very good for me in the past, it was something familiar and I’d take it.

  I watched the current proceedings come to a close. A woman sat alone at the defendant’s table, which was closest to us, her hands folded in front of her. Two guards decked out in the same attire all the other ones had been wearing sat at the other table. The woman didn’t appear to have a lawyer with her. I frowned. How was that fair? Unless she was representing herself.

  I recognized the way she was cracking her knuckles and shifting her fingers around in their clasped position, and it spoke to me. Those anxious movements. I’d seen it lots of times since being in the foster system. She was scared but wearing a brave face. Heck, I’d done it myself let alone seen it from others.

  Courtrooms were terrifying. I’d been in enough that I hadn’t wanted to be back—both with placements and breaking a few laws. Nothing major, but enough to scare me.

  I needed a plan. I needed someone defending me. I glanced over at the first-nice-then-uppity gatekeeper sitting next to me. She was silent and sat incredibly still. I needed something even if she had just blown me off.

  I leaned over toward her, figuring this was my last chance to try to talk to her.

  “Why did you think you knew me?” I asked.

  I didn’t have much time, so being blunt was the best way to approach this. If she felt any sympathy for me, I could possibly get her to assist in whatever was about to take place.

  She stared straight ahead and ignored me. Didn’t even blink or move. I leaned in closer, letting it be known I wasn’t backing down.

  I would have held onto the position too, if the judge’s gavel hadn’t echoed through the courtroom.

  “Ms. Bingham, you'll serve in the House of Stevenson for the next five years. Should your donations be satisfactory, you may request leave from time to time. At the end of your sentence you will be reassigned, or you may choose to stay with the family.”

  The judge’s eyes shifted back and forth between the people standing before her.

  “Any questions?”

  There was silence. The judge shook her head and banged her gavel once more. “Settled.”

  The woman who had been on trial shuffled out and the lady beside me rose.

  I realized she moved because she was going to usher me forward. Pull me up for my turn. I reached out suddenly, grabbing her arm. “Where’s my lawyer?” I asked.

  She frowned and tugged her arm away, still not answering anything. I watched her walk farther away from me and toward the judge’s stand. The red envelope was passed to the judge, and then she walked out of the room with her head down, not bothering to give me another glance.

  A shaky breath escaped my lips as I attempted to put on my brave face. I was really alone now.

  “Ms. Coraline Fray, to the table at my left if you would, please,” the judge announced.

  I’d seen the look the judge donned on her face before. It was one that said, I’ve been here all day and I want to be done. It was why we foster kids hated being at the end of a docket. We were already jostled around through the system, a tired judge didn’t help us one bit.

  The judge opened the golden-bound envelope and flipped through it quickly. Before I even got to the seat at the table, she looked up as if she knew all she needed to about whatever it said in that tiny clump of documents.

  Ones that had been thrown together in the mere moments since my arrival that couldn’t possibly capture any information relevant to some sort of official judicial decision.

  I rocked my legs steadily as I sat in the chair, doing just as I’d been instructed to.

  The guard who had found me by the water and started this whole mess approached the table opposite me. I wanted to glare at him, snarl even, but every action I took now could be seen by someone important, or the judge herself. I knew enough to know she was the last person I wanted to piss off.

  The judge leaned forward, resting her face on one hand as she watched us both settle in. She adjusted herself in her seat, sitting up tall before clearing her throat.

  “Charges?” she asked.

  Charges? So this was serious. And I still had no representative. No lawyer. What kind of place was this?

  The guard rose. “Yes, Your Honor. I stumbled across the defendant here on my patrol. She was found disoriented by Medeis Lake muttering nonsense.”

  I couldn’t help but stare at the ridiculous-looking chain-clad wannabe cop now. Muttering nonsense? I most certainly was not.

  There was a stir in the crowd behind me though. Like the guard had said something of relevance to everyone else in the room. Everyone but me, that is.

  The judge scratched the back of her head before sighing. “Anything else?”

  The guard looked over at me disdainfully. “She’s been a bit feisty since bringing her in.”

  The judge stopped scratching her head and looked at him as if he’d just uttered the most asinine comment in the world. “Well if you found her disoriented, I guess she would be feisty during the whole process, yes?”

  The guard nodded once.

  The judge shook her head and looked over at me next. “Do you have anything to add?”

  Did I have anything to add? Hell yes, I did.

  I clenched my hands into fists. Where did any of these people get off thinking that this was some sort of due process? Parading me through a circus crowd, to multiple women stamping papers, no one telling me where we were going, what I’d done wrong, what we’d be doing. Everything was wrong. I had plenty to add. And these clowns just pranced around like it was business as usual and I’m some sort of criminal—of what? Banging my head and washing up on a lakeshore?

  “No, Your Honor.”

  I may have had a lot to say, but at that moment, I was a coward.

  The judge flipped a paper up, reviewing a few things as we sat in silence.

  I subtly moved my fingers in my clasped hand. What did this judge have to go on? And what was I being sentenced to if she did find me guilty?

  “Based on the evaluation, I’ve recommended a placement.”

  I opened my mouth and almost stood up in my chair, but a quick glance at me from the woman in charge, ready to give out my sentence, had me crashing back down. She wasn’t someone to cross. Her deadpan gaze shut me up immediately.

  I wanted to ask what evaluation? I was never questioned, or asked anything at all besides my name and race. What would I even need one for? Because I had been disoriented? I’d hit my head!

  “Approach, please, Ms. Fray,” she said.

  Thankfully, my body went into autopilot because my mind was racing. If I’d been confused before, I was completely lost now.

  The judge looked me over once and then closed up the folder. She stamped something on top that came out looking like a circular crest and moved her quill quickly, placing her signature along the bottom.

  All the air in the room sucked out as I stood waiting. Watching this person closing up documents as if she was sealing my fate for good.

  I balled my hands into fists as I tried to stand tall, brave. But without knowing what my crime was, or what punishments were like in this state, it was hard to appear unrattled.

  The judge looked up, off to the side of where I was standing and motioned with her hand as she summoned a guard forward who I hadn’t seen yet.

  He trudged toward us, his feet thudding the ground in the same rhythm as my heart. His moves seemed tired, slow.

  I watched him and the longer I stared the slower he seemed to move. I turned my head to the judge, who was expressionless.

  What was coming? I tried to fidget and tug on my now dried clothes, but I couldn’t. I was frozen in place, waiting for the guard to arrive in front of the bench and the judge to speak.

  She glanced my way once more as the guard approached. She made a tsking sound. The guard watched me instead of the judge. His eyes narrowed, like I was about to cause trouble.

  What on earth was going on here?

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of whispers between the two, the judge made her final call.

  “To the palace she goes.”

  Chapter 4

  I struggled in vain against the grasp of yet another guard manhandling me.

  He marched forward toward his goal, barely shaken as I gave him everything I had. Instead, he moved with me as if I was a mere annoyance.

  “Let go of me.” I gritted my teeth as I hissed. “I’ll sue you all.”

  The guard snorted. I stopped fighting as I saw a large wagon looming ahead. Two horses were tethered to the front; the disgustingly dirty cloth covering the rickety wooden crate was absolutely cringeworthy. A makeshift door hung open to the back of the wagon that essentially was just a flap of cloth with a few ropes that would tie to close it; if anyone inside wanted out, it needed to be opened from the outside.

  The guard slowed and I resumed my fervent pleas that fell on uncaring ears. I was not going anywhere in that death trap.

  The grip on my arm tightened. “Drugged or something. Maybe blood high. Some help?” the guard called.

  “Drugs?” I asked.
“Blood high? Are you talking about me? I’m not on dru—”

  He shook me back and forth. Another guard came around the corner and took my free arm in his, like I was a rag doll, and they lifted me struggling into the back of the wagon.

  A dozen faces stared back at me, which rattled me enough that I abruptly froze. I stopped breathing. What were we all doing here? Were we all being taken away against our will?

  At least these eyes all looked like they were attached to normal-looking bodies. Most looked like me, or what I assumed I looked like: scared and a bit disheveled.

  A quick glance over my shoulder revealed the two guards with their hands on their hips. There was another guard inside the vehicle with us. Only the one in the vehicle held a sword across his lap. Another freaking sword.

  I choked back the fight in me and sat down next to a woman with a long black braid hanging over her shoulder. She was fidgeting with the ends and looking down, not making eye contact with anyone.

  The first glimmer of silence from me since the judge’s orders must have given the guards hope because the draped cloth folded down and I heard the ropes being knotted, locking us in. The forceful grunts outside the wagon had a few of my companions squirming.

  I leaned back against the hard wooden rail of the wagon and wiped my damp palms on the black leggings I wore. I looked around at each of the passengers minding their own business. No one was talking, so the noise from the wagon was much louder than it should have been as we lurched forward. With the silence, and the now steady beat of the horse hooves hitting the dirt road, I dared to hope I could at least whisper. If I could get someone talking, I could find out where I was and plan an escape.

  I turned my head toward the woman I’d chosen to sit next to.

  “Hi,” I whispered.

  She didn’t even look at me, but she did pause her restless fingers. Enough that I knew she heard me.

  My brows drew together when she tugged at her hair again, in the same rhythm as before.

  I leaned closer. “I don’t want any trouble. I’m just wondering, where are we?”

  This time, she moved aside, scooting closer to the person on her right.

  I gazed around the wagon looking for someone to meet my eyes. The man across from me shot me a glare, but at least he made eye contact.

  “Where are we?” I mouthed.

  He frowned and turned his head, facing the back of the wagon, purposefully ignoring me.

  Why was I being treated like a pariah?

  The flapping cloth above me drew my attention as my thoughts spun in vicious circles. Darryl would be furious I wasn’t home. If this was real—it seemed more and more likely that my dream hypothesis was inaccurate—then I would be missing back home. Which meant I wouldn’t get out of the foster care system and get the help Joe suggested. So when I did get back, which I would, I’d be in quite a predicament even if I could get someone to listen to my rantings about my mistreatment here. Would anyone believe me? And how would I leave…here. Wherever here was.

  In the midst of my all-out spiral, I barely noticed the wagon slowing down. We bumped over something that abruptly halted our rolling stop.

  I braced my hands on my knees, trying to think through some sort of scenario in which I could make a run for it.

  The doors opened and the two guards from earlier stood searching the inside of the dirt-covered ride.

  “You,” one said in a gruff tone. He pointed to the man who had glared at me earlier. “This is where you get out.”

  The man hesitated, resulting in one of the guards quickly lunging forward and grabbing him by the arm. They dragged him out and the flap whisked closed again.

  I stared wide-eyed at the off-white canvas before me. My head snapped around to the others in the vehicle who weren’t making a move, or a sound.

  “What just happened? Where is he going?” I demanded.

  The guard in the wagon raised his blade slightly. “Quiet.”

  His icy tone forced me to obey, but it also increased my growing fears.

  The decrepit wagon bumped along the road once more. There was a small sliver between the flap and the wagon at the back that I could peer through if I held my head at a certain angle.

  I squinted, trying to make out what the outside looked like. It appeared we were rolling through the village still—at least I assumed it was the same one. At some point, the bumpy road turned to cobblestone. The buildings looked a little better than the huts that had donned the streets where I was first brought in, but it was distinctly missing the row-to-row homes and businesses, the on-top-of-each-other layout I was used to seeing day in and day out. Another alert that I wasn’t anywhere close to home.

  I closed my eyes tightly, praying this wagon would stop soon and I could somehow get to someone who might be more willing to help me.

  The wagon slowed and I prepared myself again. I clenched my fists as the flap opened. The guards again stood watching the inside of the wagon with disinterest and pointing to the people they needed. This time two were unloaded.

  I swallowed, even though it was hard; my throat had become sandpaper. Were those leaving the wagon being murdered? Disposed of? What was happening? And why at different spots along the route we were on?

  My breathing slowed as I forced myself to inhale through my nose. Panic wouldn’t save me. I’d been in tough spots before, and the only way to survive was to never show fear and to stay alert.

  Stay alert.

  I repeated the phrase as my fellow travelers were unloaded from the wagon a few at a time. Stop after stop. Sometimes in pairs, sometimes alone.

  One by one the travelers I was with disappeared. Most likely dead. And I would be next. If I couldn’t find a way to stay alert. To stay calm.

  Finally, it was just me. I was all that remained.

  I’d make a run for it the minute we stopped again. The moment my feet hit the ground outside of this forsaken wagon. I had to.

  This whole scenario was crazy from the start, but as my time here continued, it was worse and worse. Maybe this was some sort of weird cult town. Inside the city, anonymous, which was why I’d never been to this area. Some rich weirdos hunting down misfits and nobodies for sport.

  I’d watched one too many serial killer dramas. This seemed just the sort of mixed up, deranged ending though.

  The wagon slowed, rolling along with no bumps, but I felt it slow down none the less. I’d barely noticed the smooth ride the last stretch.

  A horse whinnied and I glanced at the guard to my right. He was relaxed, unassuming as he held his sword in hand. I pressed my shoulders down to appear defeated. The guard looked back at me, I could see him from my periphery. I’d sell my compliance with the situation hard. Lull the guards into a peaceful sense of serenity, then bolt.

  I honed in on the noises outside the wagon. The flap rustled and folded over itself to create an opening.

  I burst forward, lunging out of the vehicle right as the outside world could be seen. So much for lulling them; a last-minute switch to the element of surprise seemed more plausible for my chances at escaping.

  So far I was right. I had successfully surprised the guards and sprinted in the direction we’d driven from.

  Arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me down as a guard tackled me from behind. I hadn’t even made it very far.

  “Ugh!” I cried out.

  I wasn’t fast enough. Not for two guards. They were in remarkable shape and their speed was better than the average cop in the city.

  They both rolled me over, dragging me to a standing position. As soon as my feet hit the ground, I tried to run, but my sneakers kept slipping on the smooth cobblestones. I couldn’t get a grip. No wonder the ride had been smooth. The scratching noise from my shoes scuffing picked up as I tried to yank myself out of the guards’ grasp. They were strong. Too strong for me.

  The guard from inside the vehicle stepped down with his sword sheathed on his back, and he narrowed his eyes at me.

  “You will calm down. Or you’ll have an injury that will not feel pleasant.” He slowly dragged the weapon from over his shoulder and brought it to his hands. “One that would make that bruise on your face look like child’s play.”

  I clamped my mouth shut and began breathing rapidly through my nose.

  As much as I wanted to fight back, I knew I was outnumbered, and against weapons that could inflict more serious damage than a few fists.