Chapter 4: Signs of Cupidity: Chapter 4

The city on the kingdom’s island, I’ve come to find out, is called Highvale and the people are beautiful, terrifying, and downright crazy.

Barely two weeks in, and I’ve already seen pixies setting a pub on fire because they got cold, dryads swinging naked from the trees and doing…rather inappropriate things with those said trees, a dwarf fighting a bogle over a piece of string, a sidhee purposely digging under a tavern to make it collapse, and sex.

A lot of sex. Flying fae humping in the clouds, orgies in the water, couplings on the rooftops, exhibitionists in storefronts. I mean, these fae really like sex. The only thing I’ve seen more than sex is fighting. Bickering, fist brawls, combat training, magical skirmishes—they like it all.

Things are a bit mellower the closer you get to the palace, since the high fae are the ones to rule the realm. All the fae species are as different from each other as they are terrifying. Some look more human-like, while other species, like the dryads, with their bark-like skin and vines for hair, are one hundred percent fae.

But it isn’t just their appearance that makes me feel wary. It’s their unmistakable viciousness and their unmitigated power.

The high fae are arguably the most powerful. They aren’t limited to a single thread of power like some of the other fae. Ashrays, for instance, only have power of the water they live in. Goblins have super strength. Elves are super good at growing things. But with the high fae, they can pull on multiple threads of power and can have several magical affinities. It’s probably why they rule the realm.

As far as appearance, they’re tall, taller than humans, with slender, graceful bodies that come in all sorts of pastel hues. But their huge, iridescent eyes give them a feral look, and it turns their natural gracefulness into a terrifying beauty. It’s clear by the actions of all the other fae species that they all defer to the high fae, albeit grudgingly. No one crosses a high fae. The social hierarchy is clear in that regard.

I’ve also learned that the realm is governed by King Beluar Silverlash and his son, Prince Elphar. And rumor has it that the prince is due to marry.

I haven’t been inside the castle yet. I’ve been too busy trying to figure out all the different fae species and get my feel for how things work here. It’s also taken me that long to get out of my rut. But since it’s been a couple of weeks now, and I’ve tested my magic on some of the different species, I feel like I have my bearings. So when news comes of a royal ball to announce whom Prince Elphar will take for a wife, I know it’s my time to shine.

Arranged marriage? I can work with that. The way I see it, if I can get the betrotheds to fall in love, or at least in lust with each other, then I’ll be doing the kingdom a favor. Monarchs who hate each other’s guts can’t be good for the realm. No, it’ll be much better for the kingdom if I can work my magic and get the couple happily affable towards each other. As long as they don’t completely despise each other, it shouldn’t be too hard. All I need is a tiny spark of attraction, and I can nudge it in the right direction.

And let’s face it, I like the sound of being responsible for the good of the realm. cupid’ing the most famous couple in all the realm is exactly the kind of purpose I need.

When I get to the castle, it’s even bigger than I thought when I first saw it from the skies. It looks like its made of opals. It’s white when you first glimpse it, but when the sun hits it a certain way, it sparkles with a rainbow of different colors.

Bottom line: it’s gorgeous. I decide it will be my new home. No more slumming it in the city for me, no sir. The palace is officially going to be my new haunt. In fact, the opal walls are so pretty that I wish I could hack off a piece to carry in my pocket—or possibly pawn for a buttload of money.

Maybe I was a princess in another life, because as soon as I walk through the doors (okay, I float through them,) I feel like the luxury is calling to me. “You belong here, cupid one thousand fifty,” it seems to say.

Arched ceilings, armed guards, polished floors, scurrying servants, and gilded paintings everywhere. This place screams wealth. There are tiny trees growing out of pots everywhere I look, too. Lining the walls, branches crawling up to the ceiling, leaves arching over hallways. The vibrant energy of them is a stark juxtaposition against the cold, lifeless marble.

The palace is a hub of activity, too. There’s never a dull moment. I’ve never been in a palace before, but it seems like things are busier than usual when I first get inside. I follow the action, partly because I’m nosy, and partly because…okay so there isn’t another reason besides me being nosy.

I follow the servants to the one place I know I can find the gossip. It doesn’t matter if it’s a tiny stick hut or a sprawling castle; if you want the scandals and the rumors, you go to the kitchen. Everyone talks in the kitchen. I think it’s the food’s fault. People go in there ready to open their mouths.

It’s a dizzying trip through the servant’s corridors, but as soon as I pass through the walls and see the steam and smoke in the air, I know I’ve made it. The palace kitchen is bigger than most houses, and its packed with all types of fae. They’re chopping vegetables, stirring pots, kneading dough, lighting stoves, and shouting obscenities or instructions. I hover over a counter in the corner, making myself comfortable to listen.

“I said to steam the greens, not to drown them!”

“You serve that crooked cake, and it’ll be the last thing you do, idiot.”

“Where’s my copper pot? Who stole my fucking copper pot?”

“I need that fire lit!”

“Where’d that water boy get off to?”

“That chicken ain’t gonna pluck itself!”

I love listening to and watching all the action. The food looks yummy, too. Too bad I can’t smell it. Or taste it. It’s a real downer.

After a few minutes, I notice a group of three girls huddled in the corner, whispering. Perfect. I float over to them, invading their space so I can listen in on the good stuff. The girls are feeorin, by the looks of them. Feeorin have dark green skin and red hair, and wings that look like fish fins. They’re busy polishing silverware.

“I don’t know what all the fuss is about. I heard that she’s not even that pretty.”

One of the other feeorin snorts. “Please. You’re just jealous because you tipped your skirt for the prince two months ago and he doesn’t even remember your face, let alone your name.”

Before the girl can respond, feeorin number three cuts in to diffuse the oncoming girl-fight. “Well, I think it’s good he’s finally going to marry. The king is old. It’s time the prince marries and has his coronation. Who cares if she’s pretty or not?”

“Oh, she’s pretty. Trust me. The prince wouldn’t marry a boggart.”

The skirt-tipping girl bristles. “My second cousin is a boggart.”

“Then you know how hideous they can be,” the girl counters.

The peacemaker interferes again, holding up a carving knife between them. It’s a good thing she’s standing in the middle. “Shut it, both of you. The engagement ball is in six hours, and we still have to finish all the silver, plus the crystal, and then help Cook with the wine! It won’t matter what you think of the princess if you serve her with tarnished silver, because the prince will have your heads!”

The girls grumble under their breaths, but much to my chagrin, the gossiping and arguing stops. Oh, well. At least I know when the engagement ball is. My arrival couldn’t be more perfect. Now all I have to do is wait until tonight, find Prince Elphar and his princess-to-be, and work my magic. Should be easy, right?