Chương 86: Squirt's Zhadin

There were no wakeberries for her as they began their march in the morning. No weapons, no tools, absolutely nothing but a belt knife, armor, and grim determination to keep moving forward. The Shadowlandians pushed everyone hard from first light, making them eat on the move. Squirt stumbled along with them, her eyes red from exhaustion, missing her companions more fervently than ever.

This shadowfell, as seemingly convinced as they were that they were being kind to her, was either purposely pushing her or accidentally doing it. Gods, even Lord Prince Commander Ranin would have at least made sure she had a safe place to sleep after last night. But nope. They didn't even assign one of those on watch to keep an eye out. Instead, she'd slept even less than before the attempt on her life, leaving her angry and bitter.

Gods damn incompetent pixie brat couldn't even have aimed to take out one of their damn captors, instead aiming for her, an innocent who was trying to save their asses — Well, not that they knew that, but still. Zhadin or Qzi would have carried her. Hell, Pakos or Mole would do for that, and then she could have slept on the way. Instead, she repeatedly tripped over her own feet as she tried to keep up with the front of the party, by where the leading vampires were.

Better there than the back where they'd beat her if she wasn't quick enough, or the middle of the pack where the teens glaring at her were likely to slit her throat. What a waste of a damn good makeshift weapon to use on her — She could only blame her exhaustion for making her reflexes too slow to stop the arms that scooped her up a few hours into her constant stumbles. She stiffened, staring at the face of the boy who had been whipped that first day.

There were bags under his eyes and his cheeks had sunken in slightly from the toll his healing took on him, but his wounds were mostly healed now. He muttered, "It's my fault you got caught up in this." Yeah, it fucking was. He glanced down at her and caught the scowl on her face, faltering a bit before gritting his teeth and marching forward angrily regardless. Slowly, her anger faded as she realized he wasn't one of the ones emanating murderous intentions. It was clear he was frustrated and angry but…

no more than herself. There was a sudden kinship to it that roused her suspicious, but faced against the enormity of her exhaustion, the conclusion became inevitable. As a last-ditch attempt to reassure herself, she gripped onto the handle of her belt knife, curling around it a little, anchoring herself to the tiny sliver of safety it provided as she passed out in the boy's arms. The boy, named Ixion, continued to march forward, noting a familiar scent coming from her that had drawn his attention originally.

She smelled like pack. Bryvan moved until he was next to Ixion and muttered, "You hold her, I'll snap her neck—""Try it and I'll kill you," he muttered back. Vocklan, the oldest and largest of the group, maneuvered himself between the wolves and muttered, "Calm your rage. She is not the enemy here." Bryvan muttered, "Sure seems to cuddle up close to the enemy." Ixion muttered, "Fuck off, Bryvan. We haven't exactly been putting out warm and fuzzies."

The other boy glowered but fell back to his half of the teens, the half that seemed to think the greenling pixie was somehow responsible for all of this. Vocklan murmured, "I am ready to trade when you are." Ixion nodded, muttering under his breath, "Bartos wouldn't stoop to their level."

"And?"

"I thought Bryvan worshiped my perfect brother." Vocklan, as steady as ever, merely shrugged.

"He has been radicalized to believe him coward for running to the Outskirts." Ixion scowled harder. Gods damn it. He'd never understood why his brother always had that sad, lonely look on his face, but getting kidnapped was starting to show him exactly who his "friends" were. Squirt roused in an instant, momentarily stunned to notice she was in an entirely different boy's arms now. The group had stopped, the teens backed into a shallow, wide cave under a cliff-face fully shadowed in the fading light.

Standing menacingly in front of them were the vampires, keeping them both contained and yet on display. A relatively large clearing stood between them and the trees. On the other side of the rock ledge, she could sense the edge of the boundary between the territories. At noticing she was awake, the broad-shouldered young man let her down, positioning himself protectively at her back before he faced forward, calm and steady.

Though his hair and skin were dark, his eyes were a bright, fiery red, yet somehow the fire in them did nothing to detract from the stillness of him. He wasn't relaxed. He was prepared. A hush fell over the forest, followed swiftly by the telltale distant clink of armor. Still a way away. The vampires turned to face the direction of those distant clinks of armor.

One of the teens yelped, drawing Squirt's attention as tendrils lashed out faster than she could follow, each wrapping around a teen's neck and dragging them mercilessly to the wall of the cave. Some struggled, the tendrils only wrapping tighter in response until one of the girl leaders snapped out, "Keep still! Keep still and it won't kill you." That seemed to ease them enough to warily wait. It was a gods damned trap and Squirt fucking knew it. Larth, the flirty vampire, squatted down next to her.

"You'll be needed up on the ridge for this. Serve them well, and everything will be just fine." He got up to leave before going, "Oh," and crouching back down.

"And if you don't? I'll kill the redcap." He grinned, his blood-red eyes twinkling in the fading light with mischief at the flat expression on her face. She scoffed as he walked away. An empty fucking threat. He didn't have Qzi. There was not nearly enough maliciousness or threat in his eyes for it. The damn vampire was fucking teasing her by threatening the life of a gods damned redcap.

Rather than dwelling on her continual descent into insanity, Squirt darted out the mouth of the cave to follow after Larth up the steep path to— A frankly magnificent view of the setting sun, if she was entirely honest. The cliff-face had a sheer drop-off down into a gorge that separated the two territories. Just beyond, the forest looked darker than the one behind them, and it wasn't just the shade from the cliffs they stood on.

There was a heaviness to the color, like it absorbed and ate the very light until there was nothing left for her eyes. About fifteen feet further to her left, the cliff rose up again in a steep climb that provided plenty of shadow, while also flattening at the base to provide plenty of space. There was a genuine arched hole in the stone, like it had once been a mountain sliced off at the front, and the empty space was once a cave.

Tucked into this natural archway and shadowed by the setting sun sat an elegant stone table with matching elegant chairs on opposite sides. It was there that the royal sat waiting, half-in and half-out of the shadows, their lower half only partially visible as they sipped on some tea. They smiled encouragingly over at her and gestured at the space next to them, a tiny alcove hidden in shadow where she would be entirely at their mercy. Or, if she took Larth's words at face value, entirely protected.

"Here, Servant." She bowed first in greeting before taking her place as indicated. They patted her head.

"Stay close, stay hidden." Then they rose up on their tendrils to the height of their fey form. Some of the tendrils began spilling over the cave, displaying the sheer length of them as they reached the ground and moved all the way to the treeline. While still holding the teens captive against the walls below them. Squirt couldn't help the shiver that ran through her at the sheer display of power. She was beginning to wonder if they outclassed even the Lord Prince.

Sure, he had numbers on his side, but with the hostages… A familiar sense of hopelessness crept into her heart. A despair she could easily greet and acknowledge, having felt it so frequently. Yielding acceptance. It was entirely possible this fey may very well become her true lord and master after all of this was over. Their chances only seemed to increase with everything Squirt had uncovered thus far, and she knew there was more they hadn't revealed yet, regardless of the viability of the potential loophole.

A viability that depended entirely on their definition of their people, and her guessing the right interpretation. She was pulled from her thoughts when they procured a tea set with the water already heated from the mass under their waist. Bowing once, she took over the task of making and serving tea. When she placed their cup in front of them and another opposite of them, they indicated with a simple gesture to have her take up the spot just behind them once again.

Nervous minutes passed as she considered the loophole options, the quiet voices of nervous and angry teens echoing from the shallow cave below them and adding to the tension. Squirt did everything in her power to fade away to nothing as she waited. The shadowfell took another sip of tea before they paused, then gently set their cup down.

"You're early, Xar'ness." A deep, rich voice of velvety power washed over the space.

"This is beneath you, Royal Xhadon." Squirt trembled unintentionally at the sheer amount of power radiating from the other side of the border. There was no shield for her now, and her lungs began to seize from their pissing contest. She continued to struggle as the royal in front of her chuckled darkly.

"I believe it was you that said no amount of pride could compare to the thrill of victory." A scoff. Squirt trembled from her hiding place, her eyes slowly scanning over to take in the figure floating off the edge of the cliff. A shadowfell. Floating midair at least a dozen feet from the edge of the cliff. The tendrils that made up their lower half were easily competition for the tendrils of the one before Squirt. The sheer amount of power radiating off them was enough to mildly crush her.

Either the fell before her didn't notice, or didn't care, and frankly, she wasn't sure which was worse. The rich voice continued, "And what makes you think this will end in your victory, Royal Xhadon?" Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. They chuckled again.

"Come here and have a seat, Xar'ness."

"You know I cannot." Oh. Oh gods. That was the Titled Gloomwoods, wasn't it? Squirt wanted to be sick. The royal she was serving was going to make the Titled Gloomwoods relinquish their title? Stepping over the boundary would remove their connection to their title. Meaning they would temporarily lose a great portion of their power. Nervously, she tried to estimate exactly how long their tendrils were. Would the Titled Gloomwoods be crippled in a fight by this? They were ancient, right?

Shit, she did not know much about any nobles outside of Everwinter and the Capital. Royal Xhadon said, "You will."

"This is your price for the children?"

"Among other things."

"I regretfully refuse." They didn't sound all that regretful. Then the royal proceeded to chuckle. Then laugh. There was a menace to the sound that sent shivers of fear up and down her spine.

"Oh Xar'ness. I admit the plan to take the children was not as well thought out as I could have hoped—but they are collateral to keep the Lord Prince Commander in line and release the Gloomwood from the hold of Fer'ich, just as they did with Riverlands. No. You will step over that line by the time night falls. I guarantee it." Caution entered the other shadowfell's voice.

"And how will you do that?" The shadows across from them on the other side of the arch began to bubble. More tendrils pulled a form out from the shadow plane, and for Squirt, time stopped. Zhadin. A beaten Zhadin. A broken Zhadin. She stared uncomprehendingly at the fell held aloft tauntingly for the Titled Gloomwood. Their eyes lifted to hers, a deep shame to them that did not hide the way they raked over her unhurt form, nor the touch of satisfied relief at realizing she was unharmed. That was… That was…

"I have your child, Xar'ness. Even better, I have their lover." Squirt's eyes were dull as she realized they had gestured to her. They continued, not even bothering to look at her. She, after all, wasn't a threat. Not when the shadows obeyed their commands, they were on the level of a minor god, and she had little more than a belt knife on her.

"It certainly made convincing your child of their captivity easier. Give up, Xar'ness. You have tarried too long. Your heart is mine." The barest confusion was quickly dismissed out of Squirt's mind, a random thought of wondering if the fell planned to fuck the titled Gloomwood or kill them. Instead, her eyes landed back on the wounds all over Zhadin's body. This had been the distraction that had enabled her to sneak into the camp. For once, she had remained relatively unharmed, and someone else was harmed.

Someone… someone who had protected her. Who kept her safe from fey and nightmares alike. Who never asked anything of her. Who gave the most thoughtful, wonderful gifts in the world. Whom she hadn't even realized was missing. Their… lover? The… the way they had tossed that out there like a genuine fact—how would they even— why did they— Her scent. Because she had been sleeping with them. Dread mixed with horror to churn her gut.

The royal before them picked up their teacup and took a sip, arrogance oozing off of them in waves as they said, "Take as long as you like. Step across the boundary and I will end their suffering." A cracking whip sounded, Zhadin arching back as their chest was flayed open by a tendril that moved faster than Squirt could even see. Zhadin didn't fight. They didn't protest or try to escape. They didn't even cry out. Just hissed in pain and relaxed in time for the next one. Then again. Then again. Every ten seconds.

Squirt stared, watching their punishment, lost in memories of having to watch her loved ones be tortured for the sake of titled fey games. Always unable to act. Her body wouldn't move. Her soul numb. Their lover. They endured each lash. They could fight. Just beyond, she could hear the clink of armor and raised voices shouting commands. All they needed to do was fight. Their lover. They loved her. She was a hostage as much as the children were.

The oath the royal had given her hadn't been prompted because they knew her as Athereon and meant to collect on the bounty. The defeated shame in their tired, pained black eyes held too much meaning for that, constantly glancing back to her as if to assure themselves of… of her safety. Still, she did nothing but watched like the coward she was. All the way until the tendril had flayed their chest deep enough she saw the telltale white of bone, and Zhadin let out a small whimper.

The coppery stench of blood filled her nostrils, bringing forth every time she'd been forced to watch someone be punished until the memories were slamming into her, taking away her reason and foresight, leaving only shame, horror, and rage behind. So long as you act in my service, neither I nor my people will harm you, so I swear on the Darkness herself. Her fingers clasped around her belt knife.

Tendrils moved to protect the royal as they turned with a pinched brow of curious surprise just in time to watch Squirt drive the blade into her own chest. Her eyes were wide, stunned she'd actually done it. A tremor rattled through the shadows. Royal Xhadon quickly backed away, their eyes tracing over the shadows and searching for the source before hissing at her, "What have you done?" Her knees gave out, her body trembling from shock and, strangely, relief. Thank the gods. Her gamble had paid off.

Breathless and dizzy with pain and triumph, she smirked, holding the blade as steady as possible to limit the bleeding.

"Titled Gloomwood was right. Victory is thrilling." They opened their mouth to say something when the earth shook again, the shadows of their arch bleeding out into the air, all light leeching from it. Panic entered their eyes as the darkness reached for them.

"What did you do?" they shouted. Squirt chuckled darkly.

"Fucking titled fey… always… think… we're… stupid…" Fuck it hurt to breathe like this. One of her daggers would have hurt less because at least that fucker would have been sharp. They turned back on her as her body seized, crushed by their aura, their fury fully unleashed on her— Until white fur cocooned her. She gasped in air while she could, having trouble staying upright and leaning into her hound. Gods, she'd never been so glad to see him. Did you have to stab yourself?

An ear-piercing scream of rage was followed by a sudden drop in the ambient temperature. Even protected as Squirt was by Pakos, she could see the shape of her breath. That had to be why she was shivering. Right? Then the scream curdled her blood as it went from rage to panic. The world beyond Pakos lost all light, so complete was the darkness that surrounded them. Everything was absorbed—first light, then magic, then even sound.

Every fiber of Squirt's being filled with the recognition of the divine presence amongst them as it enacted the goddess's judgement on the royal for breaking their vow, and she bowed her head low, ignoring the pain the shift caused. Pakos helped as Squirt used him to prop herself up. As suddenly as it appeared, the divine presence left. Her senses were momentarily stunned, overloaded by the sudden influx of information. Panicked voices. Shouts. Screams. Copper. Smoke. Ice.

The setting sun came last, painting the cacophony in golden hues as a final touch. She began to sit up when bloodied hands reached for her, and her dazed, glazed eyes found their way up to wide blood red ones.

She smiled, the tension draining from her so suddenly that Qzi panicked, his hands on her trembling as he forced her blood to remain in her body, ignoring the wound, ready to pump her heart if he needed to— When the most miraculous sound of laughter tinkling quietly from the pixie in his arms made his eyes snap open again. She rasped out, "Did it work?" He stared at her uncomprehendingly, but her hound answered, Perfectly so. I believe Darkness owed the Hunt a few favors, anyway. This should annoy her.

Gods trading favors over her dumb plans. Qzi finally asked, "Did what work?" She reached up and patted his cheek reassuringly, muttering, "Nevermind, Pakos said it did. Zhadin is—" Lord Prince Ranin's voice sounded from the other side of Pakos, "Is safe and retrieved, huntress." Qzi's eyes snapped up.

"Potion! Potion, please!" The breeze announced the lord prince's quickstep as he appeared at her other side, a panicked look on his face. He muttered, "No, no, not again, gods damn it —" and before she could protest, he'd reached into his bag, pulled out a familiar green vial, uncapped it and shoved it in her mouth so quickly she almost choked. She glared at the prince as she unwillingly drank the damn thing and Qzi removed the belt knife from her chest. She wasn't in that much danger.

It just hurt because it was a dull as fuck belt knife. Qzi instantly relaxed and smiled.

"There's my pricklebear."

"Commander!"

"Yes?"

"Everyone has been recovered. We've called for Lady Jezalin for the boy that was blinded, but we're unsure if she'd be able to salvage it." Squirt's expression darkened. Not unless she had time powers. Still, he was a powerful wind pixie. He might not be able to be a scholar easily, but he'd be able to see with his magic sense just fine. It'd be different if it was a greenling. Qzi helped shift her into sitting up, but to his immense shock, she didn't move away from his hold on her shoulders.

In fact, he was pretty sure she leaned into his hands. Lord Prince Ranin asked impatiently, "What happened?" She asked bluntly, "Zhadin? Have they been healed?" He waved her concerns off.

"Yes, yes, I am down two healing potions. Now quickly, before Jezalin gets here, what happened?" Was that a flash of panic in his eyes? She leaned a little away from him, meaning consequently, to his delight, she leaned further towards Qzi. He, meanwhile, was struggling not to hyperventilate. Warily, she said, "They made a vow to Darkness. I made them break the vow. Problem solved." Exasperated, his voice jumped an octave as he said, "By stabbing yourself? What exactly was the vow?" Squirt hesitated.

With a growl of frustration, he waved his hand and encased them in a solid cube of ice and snapped out, "What exactly was the vow?" Squirt huffed.

"Does it matter? Don't swear shit to the gods unless that shit is airtight."

"It fucking matters to me," he growled out, the temperature in the ice cube dropping low enough that Pakos growled at the lord prince, who eased back and pinched his brow, muttering, "Yes, yes, I'm calm, I'm calm, just… why are you being deliberately obtuse right now?" She dropped her eyes and didn't answer. Lowering his hand from his brow, he studied her before asking more gently, "Is this part of the greenling code?" Her eyes snapped up to him in shock.

He studied her a little longer before his eyes unfocused, drifting away from her. Then he nodded, returning his gaze to her, and said, "Have no fear." His lips twitched.

"My mate took your advice to heart and got herself a greenling advisor who actually wants to represent your people." To his surprise, her tension and wariness only grew. Blinking a few times and wondering where he went wrong, his eyes unfocused briefly again before he nodded and said slowly, "His name is Ba'il'an, but he says you'll know him by the name Dusty. He says… right… he says we promise not to implement new policies or bargains based on the loophole in the wording?"

By the end, his confusion was evident to them all, his brows pinched as he questioned the very words that had come from his mouth. Squirt, meanwhile, gave the man a hard stare. A greenling had given the Queen their true name. The Queen was fucking a greenling. Holy shit the Queen was fucking a greenling. Holy shit the Queen might have mated a greenling. Was the Queen just collecting mates like it was some sort of game? Sure, some fey moved quickly, but that was an insane turnaround. Shit.

They had no idea what they'd done, did they? Dusty? That kid? She barely remembered him. He had only just been named when she'd shacked up with the Sia-bitch. She barely saw anyone after that. Did they know that he had just staged a fucking revolution in the Capital's streets? In a somewhat dazed voice, she intoned, "That so long as I acted in service, they and their people would do me no harm. Acting in service to them, I stabbed myself to stop myself from stabbing them.

By doing so, I was acting in service to them as their servant. As their servant, I was one of their people. One of their people did harm to me. They swore by Darkness and by Darkness they were punished." He stared at her.

"… shit, that actually worked?" She blinked a few times before saying in her still somewhat dazed voice, "It required intention, commitment, and truth. It depended on their definition of their people. How they saw their people. They saw me as one of their people, so it worked. It required my commitment to actually cause harm on myself. And truth, because I had to genuinely want to kill them while also genuinely trying to stop myself. If I did the act with the intent to kill them, it wouldn't have worked either."

His eyes unfocused again, clearly having another mental conversation. Waving his hand, his dismissed the ice barrier, allowing her to look out. Squirt, dazed, overloaded, and exhausted, leaned back fully on the redcap. She barely noticed his arms he hesitantly, then more firmly, wrapped them around her shoulders, too caught up by the previously mentioned afflictions and a lingering sense of safety she hadn't had in days. Zhadin is fine?

She asked Pakos, her mind somewhat shutting down from the everything that had just happened. They've taken the potion and now look to be having a lovely conversation with their parent. She stiffened. Their parent. Their parent. Maybe if she just closed her eyes right now and didn't see them together she could pretend— Pakos, the sassy bitch he was, shifted to the side to reveal the view of the two of them talking, Zhadin's eyes fixed on her. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

From what she had gathered, shadowfell were relatively bad at emoting. There was always something just slightly off about it. Smiling a little too widely or their eyes just slightly too narrow, an emotion they were putting on their face rather than one that they felt. At least, from those she had observed at close distance now and the rare passing encounter, that was her conclusion. But now, there was a fathomless depth of complex affection in Zhadin's black eyes. And it looked… genuine. Real.

Not an expression they were wearing to communicate something, but rather the spilling of emotion onto their face for no one but themselves. It was beautiful. They were beautiful. And gods fucking damnit, they were a gods damned lesser royal. Sure. Why not add to the gods damned pile. Prince Pest. Princess of Light. And now Royal Darko.

"Qzi?" she asked blandly.

"… yes?" he said somewhat nervously, still waiting for her to stab him as she leaned against his chest.

"… you aren't secretly a prince, are you?"

"… no?" There was a pause. Then a dry, "Why do you sound unsure?"

"… I'll be your prince if you want me to?" Her expression flattened further.

"I don't want you to be anything other than your annoying self, dumbass."

"… does this—" he abruptly cut himself off.

"Does this what?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nevermind. I uh… anyway." … did he just— Nope. We're not thinking about him proposing again, Squirt. We're better than this. Are you, though? Gods damn it, Pakos—