Christina Henry - Black Heart

The dragon huffed out a sound that might have been refusal.

“Go!” I shouted, my eyes full of tears. I didn’t want them to hurt him anymore. Whatever they wanted from me didn’t even matter. I was tired of fighting. I was sick of death.

And if I died, I could be with Gabriel. There was a lot of peace in that thought.

“Go,” I said to the dragon for the third time. I turned my back on the faerie closing in around us so I could meet his eyes. The dragon roared, blasted fire at the faerie.

“Please.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, then flapped his wings and lifted off. I followed him with my eyes as he rose above the forest. He paused for a moment, high above me. I heard a low voice in my head, almost a growl.

Be careful, Madeline. They are not what they seem. Do not give in.

Then rough hands were on me, dragging me down, binding my ankles again, lashing my arms to my sides. I jerked my head around, trying to see him, trying to catch one more glimpse of my dragon.

But by the time the faerie had trussed me up again and backed away, the sky was empty. The dragon was gone.

I felt a strange mixture of relief and despair. I was glad the dragon was safe, but now I was alone again—and back where I’d started.

Two faerie came forward carrying a long strip of the same silver netting they’d used to capture me in the first place. I was unceremoniously hoisted into it and the two faerie were joined by two others who held me in it like four posts holding a hammock. All of this was done without speaking, and I wondered who was in charge. The faerie seemed to know instinctively what their job was, moving seamlessly like insects in a hive.

My captors fell into line and began moving back toward the village. It was rough going for me. I rolled around inside the net, unable to control my movements as all of my limbs were immobilized. The fae that carried me weren’t deliberately trying to harm me, but they weren’t taking any special precautions, either. If they bumped into a tree or a rock, they weren’t concerned. And I didn’t hear anything that sounded like an apology.

The sky and the roof of the forest whirled dizzyingly above me. After a while I started to feel sick and closed my eyes. I didn’t think I had run that far, but the journey back seemed to take forever.

I fell asleep again despite the uncomfortable ride. The pregnancy book I’d purchased (a hundred years ago, in another life, it seemed) had mentioned a constant state of tiredness, particularly in the first trimester. It hadn’t mentioned anything about supernatural offspring, although I could extrapolate that my child might be especially exhausting.

I was shaken roughly awake when I was unceremoniously dumped in another dwelling. This one was a lot less primitive than the last. There was an actual floor, made of smooth planks of light wood. The floor was scattered with shiny green leaves.

The faerie that had carried me silently left the room. They probably figured I couldn’t do too much damage as tightly bound as I was. Which meant they hadn’t realized I was the one who had set the other hut on fire. That was good. It meant I could still surprise them. And the way things were going so far, I would need all the surprises I could get.

I rolled onto my back so I could get a good look at the rest of the room. This position was not even remotely comfortable. My wings and hands were bound behind me so I had to lie on top of them. Still, by lifting my head up I could get a better view without flopping from one side to another.

There were a few pieces of furniture—some chairs, a low table—all of which looked as if they’d been formed from the branches of trees. There were no paintings or photographs on the wall, but a large shrine was given pride of place on one side of the room.

The top of the shrine was decorated with several carved figures. Candles were set at five separate points around the top. I wondered who these faerie worshiped. They were like no fae I had seen before.

Two doorways covered in leaf curtains stood at either end of the room. I suspected that I was about to meet some kind of leader, and I was right.

A tall man who could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty years old entered. Faeries age differently than humans do, at least in my time and place, so he was probably well older than he appeared. The man’s face was grim, his eyes were blue, and he had the lean, sinewy look of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. He was flanked by two younger men who walked a step or two behind him in obvious deference to his status.

He strode in with the air of a person about to lay down the law. I figured I’d better throw him off balance before he went all “Off with her head” on me.

“I’m hungry,” I announced.

The three men stopped at the sound of my voice. The leader spoke to the man on his left. This faerie was also tall, with caramel-brown hair streaked with yellow, and very golden brown eyes. The third man had blond hair and green eyes, and a strange quality that seemed to make him fade into the background.

All of the faerie wore a sleeveless brown tunic with leggings, which made them look like escapees from Middle Earth. The man on the right, the disappearing blond, held my sword in his hand. I breathed an inward sigh. I thought I’d lost it.

The leader and the brown-haired man had a short exchange in their own language before the second man spoke. In English. That was a surprise.

“My lord Batarian requires information of you. If you answer honest and true, your bonds will be released and you will be given nourishment.”

“If not, then death and/or dismemberment will follow, et cetera, et cetera?” I asked, watching Batarian carefully as I said this. His face did not move a muscle, but his eyes flickered.

The second man spoke again. “I do not know what this ‘et cetera’ is, but I assure you that you will suffer if you do not cooperate.”

“I’m suffering now,” I said, making my voice as whiny and annoying as possible. “I’m hungry. I’m thirsty. My hands are going numb. I was dragged out of a tree when I wasn’t bothering anyone.”

“I think you misunderstand your position,” the man said icily. “You are a prisoner, not a guest.”

“Well, at least that clarifies my status,” I said. “I thought this was the way you invited people over for dinner.”

“My lord has—” the man began again, but I cut him off.

“In my country, prisoners have certain rights,” I said. I was going to make this guy snap if it was the last thing I did. I didn’t have a lot of power while tied up and lying on the floor, but as long as I wasn’t gagged, I could drive somebody crazy.

“You are not in your country,” the translator said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, and speaking of that, just where in the hell am I?” Because when I get back home I want to thank Nathaniel for sending me here—before I smack him in the head several times.

“I will be the one to ask the questions!” the man thundered.

“No,” I said, gesturing toward Batarian. “He will.”

The translator looked uncertain for a moment, then gathered his dignity. “Of course, Lord Batarian is the ultimate authority here, but he will ask his questions through me.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

“Are you saying you refuse to cooperate?”

“No,” I said. “I’m saying Batarian can stop pretending he doesn’t speak my language.”

I had to give Batarian credit. His expression never changed.

“Lord Batarian has entrusted me to . . .”

I glared at Batarian. “Stop. Pretending.”

The translator made a move like he was going to strike me.

“Stop!” Batarian said in English.