His grip was firm, fingers splayed at my waist like he had every right to touch me. I wasn't a delicate flower, but my pulse definitely spiked as he hauled me flush against his chest.
"What Court decides the fate of someone who didn't ask to be here?" I snapped, trying to twist away. He didn't even flinch. Just tightened his grip.
"Spring. And she's always hungry for new things."
That sounded ominous. And cultish. Yuck.
"Let me go," I gritted out, hands shoved against his chest. He smelled like rainfall and something sweeter underneath. Honeysuckle maybe? With a hint of spice. Ugh. Of course he had the kind of scent that messed with my brain chemistry.
He tilted his head, amused. "You're mortal. I should leave you to the foxglove. Pretty little petal done in by petals. But–" He glanced around before leaning in to whisper. "I think they like you already. I certainly can't dispose of the marked."
Marked? Was this like spiritual herpes?
"What does that mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like, petal." He let go of me and I stumbled back, almost falling. His gaze dragged across my face like he was memorizing something. "It means you're interesting."
I opened my mouth to retort. Maybe something scathing and a little bit feral, but the forest beat me to it.
A low creak echoed from the trees, like something massive had shifted in the canopy above. Another chime split the air between us. This time, it wasn't the soft welcome from before. It was harder. Sharper. Like a fork scraping across a dinner plate. It made my back teeth ache.
His expression darkened.
Clouds rolled across the shimmering opal sky like spilled ink, turning the rose-gold light into something bruised and angry. The wind twisted and snarled. Birds scattered in a fury of wings.
"Briars and brimstone," Cursing, his eyes scanned the forest behind me. "They felt you come through."
"Who's they?" I wasn't going to touch on his choice of expletive. Really going for a theme here.
A blur of shadow moved between the trees. My brain couldn't even process what I was seeing. Antlers? Wings? Fangs?
"Certainly not as welcoming as I am." He turned toward me again, mouth tight. "Run, petal."
"I thought you were taking me to the Court?"
"Changed my mind. You're not ready." He grabbed my hand and yanked me hard enough that my shoulder popped. I barely managed to keep up as he sprinted into the forest, dodging between glowing trees.
"Where are we going?" I yelled, heart hammering against my ribs.
"Somewhere safe."
"I don't even know your name!"
He looked over his shoulder, green eyes sharp and unrepentant. "That's probably for the best."
Branches snapped behind us. Whatever was following wasn't slow.
And I was officially in way over my head.
So of course I tripped.
My foot snagged on a root, and I stumbled forward. I was wearing shorts, so when my leg crumpled, my knee slammed into the twisted roots. My skin tore open on the moss, blood smearing across pale green growth.
White hot pain seared through my knee, and I waited for the rest of the inevitable fall. Waited for the creature behind us to devour me.
But he caught me.
One arm curled around my waist like a steel band, and with barely a grunt he hoisted me up and into his arms.
"Oh hell no!"
"Shut up, petal."
Then we were gone.
The world folded around us, crumpled in on us. Everything blurred.
My stomach revolted and I fought the urge to throw-up. When reality settled again, I took a deep breath, glancing around. We were no longer in the forest.
We were standing on a jagged cliff, a massive tree twisted into the shape of a spiral staircase behind us, and a thousand lanterns floating in the air above a glassy lake below.
My mouth fell open.
"Okay. That's kind of amazing."
My eyes were drawn upward as the man carrying me chuckled. It was a tired sound. There was a tightness to his face, around those emerald eyes, that made my heart lurch in my chest.
"I'll take the compliment." He lowered me gently to my feet. His hands lingered for just a second too long on my hips. He stepped back, tracking my every move.
I rubbed my knee, eyes still wide as I took in the surreal view. "So... where exactly are we? Because last time I checked, no class I ever taught included floating lanterns over a lake."
He folded his arms, leaning casually against the twisted tree staircase like it was no big deal. "You're at the edge of the Spring Court. The part most mortals never see. I brought you here because it's one of the few places the shadows can't touch."
"Right. Because I'm apparently a walking shadow magnet."
His gaze flickered with something softer, almost regretful. "It's not just shadows. There are forces old as time itself hunting you now."
I took a shaky breath, trying to push down the pounding of my heart. I glanced around again, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Okay. So, Spring Court. What exactly is that? Like, a club? A government? Some kind of exclusive garden party?"
He let out a breath, eyes darkening with something ancient. "It's everything and nothing you know about the world. The Spring Court is one of the fae realms. places where magic lives and breathes."
I blinked. "Fae? Like fairy tales?"
He chuckled dryly. "Not quite. Fae are complicated."
"Complicated, how? This whole thing is complicated. I got eaten by a mushroom ring on a hike. I would say I'm an ace at handling complicated."
The fae thing was throwing me for a loop. Fae were stories. Legends, things that went bump in the night. There were no brownies, or pixies. It was just a collection of myths. Which brought me right back around to…
"What language are you speaking? How can I understand you?"
"I tell you that you're in a completely different realm of existence, and language is your sticking point?"
I glared at him. "Sue me, I'm an English teacher."
"I'm speaking Court Common."
"But then why…"
"Can you understand me?" His lips twisted. "Magic, petal. Pure, unadulterated magic. This world oozes the stuff. I'm speaking my own tongue and you can understand it because the land wills it. Whatever I'm saying will be translated by the magic and twisted to whatever colloquialisms you understand."
"Briars and brimstone is not a curse in my language."
He had the audacity to look appalled. "Are you always so filthy?"
"Hey, bud, you're the one that said it first."
"Anyway." He cleared his throat. "Faerie is broken down into a multitude of Courts that span this world. The Seasonal Courts, the Celestial Courts, the Shadow Court, and the Elemental Courts. Each one of those Courts are like your countries. Entities in and of themselves. There is a hierarchy of Courts, but that's a lesson for another day."
"If there's a hierarchy, is there a one Court to rule them all situation?"
"Again, a lesson for another day. For now, we figure out what to do with you."
I crossed my arms, stubborn as ever. "Right. Just blow me off. I'm going to keep asking questions, dude. It's who I am. Like, you mentioned I was marked. I don't understand."
"I have a feeling there are a great many things you don't understand, petal." He stepped closer again, voice low. "Being marked is a privilege. It's powerful. It's why the shadows follow you, why the forest shifted when you came through. Right now, the mark isn't your concern."
"So, what then, if the mark isn't 'my concern'? I just stay here? Learn faerie etiquette? Get a crash course in court politics?"
"First, you survive the night."
I tried to pull away, but his hand curled around my wrist, holding me in place.
"No touchy." I jerked my hand away. "Also, I have friends I need to find. They fell through with me."
He blinked, long and slow like a cat. "You're the only one who landed on Spring's doorstep, petal."
I swallowed hard. "I have to find them."
"You have to survive, petal. A dead flower can't bloom."
I didn't like that answer. Not one bit.
My throat went tight. "They could be in danger. You said yourself the forest went all Exorcist the second I stepped into it. If they landed somewhere worse—"
"They wouldn't have survived." His voice was flat.
I stared at him, stunned. "Wow. That's comforting. Real heartwarming."
His jaw clenched. "It's the truth. The Veil doesn't drop mortals gently. You're lucky Spring caught you."
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I didn't know June-Lee's fate. Or Lyra's and Marion's. I didn't even know where the hell I was, really. Just this cliffside, this impossibly twisted tree, and a stranger with too-green eyes who kept calling me petal like it was some kind of insult and a term of endearment all in one.
I shoved a hand into my hair, tugging hard enough to sting. "Okay. Great. So I'm in Faerie, I'm marked—whatever that means—and I'm on the run from shadow monsters. And now I'm supposed to just survive the night?"
His head tilted slightly, and it occurred to me he was watching me unravel with a kind of calm detachment. Like I was a skittish kitten, and he was trying to decide whether I'd bolt or bite.
"You're doing better than most. No crying. No begging. Just a lot of inconvenient questions."
"Oh, don't worry," I snapped. "I'm saving the breakdown for when I'm alone. Preferably not being chased by forest demons or manhandled by a prickly forest prince."
That almost got a smile. Almost.
"You'll have your chance." He murmured. "But not here. Come on."
He turned and started walking toward the tree. No, the staircase. The massive, spiraled trunk looked like something out of a Tim Burton sketchbook, all gnarled wood and shimmering bark that glowed faintly. I'd have to ask about the glow too.
I hesitated. "Where does that go?"
"Somewhere safe." Vague and infuriating. Just how I liked my forest men.
I limped after him anyway, my knee aching with each step. He noticed. Of course he did.
"You're hurt."
"No shit, Sherlock. Root, remember?" I hissed through clenched teeth.
He paused at the base of the staircase, glancing back over his shoulder. "I could carry you again."
"Nope." I waved him off. "I still have some dignity left."
He didn't argue, but I caught the flicker of amusement as he turned and began climbing. I followed, biting back every sound of pain that wanted to escape. The bark beneath my hand felt smooth and warm, pulsing faintly beneath my fingers. Was it breathing?
"You never told me your name." Was a scrape going to take me out, because why the hell did it hurt so bad? I needed to distract myself. "Of course, I can call you Tree Daddy, but I don't think your Court would approve."
He hesitated. "Names have meaning here."
"They have meaning where I'm from too. They're just a placeholder for 'Hey, you with the hair!'"
He stopped, turning to look at me. "My compatriots call me Cian."
"Compatriots? Come on now, surely the magic could've translated that as friends."
"I don't have friends, petal. It's dangerous."
"Cian," I repeated, testing the weight of it on my tongue. I was going to ignore how lonely it sounded to not have friends. "Let me guess. Spelled ridiculously?"
He actually huffed. "C-I-A-N. It's an old name. Means ancient."
"Of course it does."
We climbed in silence for another moment. I could see more of the lake now, how it stretched into the distance with curling mist hugging its edges. The lanterns above swayed without wind, some forming constellations I didn't recognize.
"I didn't ask for this," I said quietly. "Whatever it is. The mark. The attention. You."
"No one ever does," Cian replied, not looking back. "But the land chooses who it will. Spring wants something from you."
"I'm not exactly in the giving mood."
"That'll change."
I didn't like how sure he sounded. Or how tired he looked when he finally reached the top and held a hand out to help me onto the landing.
I ignored his hand. Made it up the last few steps on my own, even though my leg felt like it was on fire. He didn't push. Just turned and opened a door carved into the tree trunk.
Warm golden light spilled out. Inside was a space that defied logic. A high-domed ceiling made entirely of woven vines and living blossoms, walls shaped from curved bark and lined with orbs of light. A thick mossy floor cushioned each step.
"This is where I sleep," he said, moving toward a low table stacked with books and glass vials. "You'll take the bed."
I blinked. "Wait, what? Where are you going to sleep?"
"Don't worry, petal. I don't bite." He tossed a blanket onto a mossy bench near the far wall. "Usually."
"I don't care if you bite. I care if you try anything while I'm unconscious."
He looked offended. "I don't take advantage of vulnerable mortals. I have rules."
"Yeah? Because if the stories of the fae in our realm are to be believed, a great many of you don't."
"You survived." His voice softened. "Which is why you're here."
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I hated that part of me wanted to believe him.
Cian watched me for a long moment. Then, almost reluctantly, he sighed. "Rest. Tomorrow, I'll take you to someone who can explain more about the mark."
I frowned. "Not you?"
"No." His eyes clouded over. "I know just enough to be dangerous."
"Comforting."
"You'll need comfort where we're going."
That sounded like a threat. Or a promise. I wasn't sure which unsettled me more.
I crossed the room slowly, not trusting anything not to suddenly sprout teeth or curse me into a toad. But the bed was soft and warm and more welcoming than my bed back home.
I sat on the edge, letting my hand trail across the moss. "Cian?"
"Hm?" He was already sprawled out on the bench, arms folded behind his head.
"If I'm marked, does that mean I'm not human anymore?"
He was quiet for a long time.
"You're human, petal. But things don't always stay as they were."