Chapter 5 How Not To Die Here

Rae

Shake on it. “How the hell do you expect me to shake on it?” I ask, looking up at where one of his hands hangs above his head in the chains.

He shrugs a little and smirks. “Climb.”

Right. Yes. Of course. Silly Rae. Just climb the dangerously gorgeous fae like a damn tree. I swallow, set my basket carefully on the ground, and nod. Okay. I can climb a tree. I can climb a fae. Probably. Maybe. Surely the skills transfer. I back up a few steps to give myself a running start, then launch myself at him.

Somehow, I manage to get my legs around his waist. He barely even moves, like I am nothing more than a leaf flinging itself at a mountain. I plant my hands on his chest, instantly aware that this was a terrible plan, then slide them up to his shoulders and try very hard not to think about the fact that I am climbing a giant, bloodied, mostly naked fae in a prison cell.

“Sweet hill, Saoirse, I wish you could see this,” the amused one says. “She’s actually climbing him.”

I ignore him and wiggle myself higher, stomach twisting as I reach for one of Cian’s hands. At this point, my belly is practically in his face, his breath warm against the strip of skin where my shirt has ridden up. Shit.

I finally manage to grab one giant hand and shove mine into it. I give it one quick, awkward shake, then scramble back down him and land on solid ground with all the grace of a falling sack of potatoes—Cian smiles at me, slow and satisfied. “Okay,” he says. “It is a deal then.”

“Right. Now…” I start, then stop when I catch the look on his face. “You, uh… good there?” His smile fades a little. “I might pass out again. Eiran and Saoirse will help prepare you.” And with that, his eyes close. His head drops back against the stone. The little bit of life still holding him upright seems to drain out of him all at once, leaving nothing but too much skin stretched over too much muscle. I stare at him for one useless second. Then I turn back to the smiling giant across the corridor.

“Okay, shortcake. Let’s get you up to speed. I’m Eiran. That’s Saoirse somewhere down the row. We,” he adds, gesturing around the cells, “are Hollow Hill Folk. You, little human, are about to infiltrate Bright Thorn.” Right. Yes. I know that part. I grab my basket from the floor and clutch it to my chest. 

“Okay. Why are all of you even down here?”

Saoirse answers, her voice quieter than Eiran’s. “There are different courts, different loyalties, and very different ideas about what should be done with the roads between worlds.”

“The old paths,” Eiran adds. “The crossings. Rings. Mounds. Hollow places. Places where our world and yours sit too close together.”

“And Bright Thorn and Hollow Hill disagree?” I ask.

“That is one way to put it,” Saoirse says.

Eiran snorts softly. “Cian is the prince of Hollow Hill. Bright Thorn wants what remains of our court and our people. They’ve had us here a very long time. Bleeding him over the ward-stone you so helpfully dropped through.” My eyes flick back to Cian before I can stop them. That’s horrible. Eiran’s voice hardens a little. “So now we need to get you caught up on rules, little human, so you do not end up dead, trapped, married, indebted, or eaten before we can all get out of here and get home.” Good. Home. My cabin, woods, tea, no giant bloody fae princes. That’s the goal now, Rae.

“Okay. Lay them on me.”

Eiran lifts one finger. “First. Do not give anyone your full name.”

“Why?”

“Because names have weight,” Saoirse says. “Given freely, they can be used. Called. Bound. Pulled on.”

I frown. “So what, I just… lie?”

“You shorten,” Eiran says. “You trim. You give them something careless and human and incomplete.” Eiran lifts a second finger. “Do not thank them too freely.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Gratitude can become acknowledgement. Acknowledgement can become obligation. Obligation can become debt.”

I stare at him. “You’re joking.”

“I am not.”

Saoirse speaks again. “If one of them gives you something, helps you, feeds you, frees you, and you thank them carelessly, some will hear a debt in it.”

I blink at them both. “That is psychotic.”

“It is fae,” Eiran says.

I press my lips together. “Right. Obviously. Continue.” 

A third finger goes up. “Do not promise anything lightly.”

I let out a little disbelieving laugh. “That feels like information I could have used before I made a deal with your prince.” Eiran smiles, and I tighten my grip around the basket as a slow, awful feeling crawls up my spine. “What happens if I promise something stupid?” I ask.

“Then they may hold you to it,” Saoirse says. “Especially if there are witnesses. Especially if hands are shaken.” I look down at my own hand. Oh, Rae, we are just making all the worst choices today. Eiran looks delighted as he lifts a fourth finger.

“Do not eat or drink anything Bright Thorn offers unless you have to.” Saoirse continues, “Food can be hospitality. Hospitality can become bond. Bond can become obligation. Some foods are harmless. Some are not. Some are meant to make you forget. Some are meant to make you stay.” 

I instantly clutch my basket tighter. “I can eat my own food though, right?”

“Yes,” Saoirse says.

“Thank Christ.”

Eiran lifts another finger. “Do not accept gifts.”

“Even if they are pretty?”

“Especially if they are pretty.”

I sigh. “Why?”

“Because gifts are rarely gifts,” Saoirse says. “They are hooks. Claims. Tests. Sometimes invitations. Sometimes chains that are dressed as favours.”

I close my eyes for one second. “Anything else? Or have we covered most of the ways I can accidentally ruin my life further?”

Eiran’s smile goes sharp. “A few more. Do not follow music. Do not go anywhere alone if they ask you sweetly. Do not step into any circle, doorway, ring, arch, or marked threshold without thinking first. Do not let them lead you by the hand.”

“Why?”

“Because once a fae leads and you follow willingly,” Saoirse says, “that can matter more than you want it to.”

My laugh comes out weak. “Amazing. So basically breathe wrong, and I’m doomed.”

“More or less,” Eiran says as he shrugs.

“How are any of you functioning like this?”

“We were born to it,” Saoirse says.

A tapping sound starts down the corridor, and the hairs on my arms lift. Eiran’s smile vanishes. Everything playful in him folds away. “Okay,” he says. “They’re coming.” 

My heart lurches. He points to my basket. “Grab that.” I lift it higher against my chest. “Now get in the corner farthest from Cian and cry. You are mortified, we are terrifying, and you need help. You stumbled through a crossing and found monsters. Got it?” 

“Honestly,” I whisper, backing toward the far corner, “that part won’t be hard.”