The 7th Queen of the Spring Court (complete short story)

A pungent, sweet-sour scent cut the air. It was rot. She had encountered a lot of that lately. The handmaiden stoppered her throat and gently picked her way through the mess. Her lady waited outside the shimmering barrier that kept her safely away from the mess, shifting in discomfort.

The handmaiden cast a glance back, and then knelt to turn over the largest mound with one hand. Her fingers sunk in further than she expected. The decay had gone fast. Unnaturally fast. But the raw, sun-warmed flesh shifted with a squelch when she heaved it over. She felt a spark of relief- this one's face had been left behind. It was identifiable, and the other body was by association.  

She straightened to her feet and delicately held her gruesome hand away from her dress as she returned. The green veil resisted, but let her pass through on the lady's say. As it should- the lady had made it to keep the violent scene intact.

“Who was it?” The lady clapped a hand over her mouth, but the words were already out. At the sound, life expanded. A white flower, a barren branch, and a smattering of insects rushed away from her feet. The barrier keeping the curiosity contained strained at her most concentrated power, but held in the end.  

The princess gave her handmaid a guilty look and stepped away. The beginnings of a tree that she had spoken into being slowed, halting only a knee's height off the ground when she left it behind. It was pouting. She knew how it felt- Naeda felt unsettled when the princess left her too. Luckily she had been made with legs, not roots.

The handmaid gave her lady a wry smile and let air move again, seeping into her lungs. When she spoke, the words were silent to the air, but the lady still heard them through the mental bond they had.

“The western wind, and his daughter.”

The greatest princess of the spring isle looked troubled as they stepped away, back toward the palace of her mother, the 6th queen of the spring.  “The second this week.” A songbird burst out the air behind her, brilliantly blue and trilling. It darted into the trees. The two fae exchanged a heavy glance. Troubled, the princess held out her hand. The maid hesitated- she held up her own hand, still coated in weeping rot from a murdered friend. Unconcerned, the princess reached out to clasp her cold palm around the hot filth on Naeda's hand.

When they brought their concerns to the head of the court, the spring-queen poured three crystal cups of berry wine for the occasion. She offered one to her daughter as a reward, and one to her newest husband because he was young enough to be terribly fragile by the standards of a fairy court's inner circle. The last cup she took two sips from and then tossed to the stones. The cup shattered. The wine splashed onto Naeda's bare feet, sending a cold shock of power over her skin. She did not flinch at the condescension or the gift. The freely-given magic stained her feet, turning the skin purple. It would suit her natural strengths, in time, perhaps bestowing her with softer steps or a tougher hide.

Naeda did not feel particularly bitter about the queen's disdain for her. In a way, it was amusing that the older fae thought it was important to express her distaste even when she was rewarding Naeda. When she was further away, she might safely laugh about the arrogance of thinking it was better to break a cup than to share it with a servant.

The princess frowned, drank half her cup, and pointedly passed it over to Naeda's free hand. She drank obediently. Then she swayed at the infusion of intense, direct magic meant for her superior.

The king made an unhappy sound, tilting his head in preparation for the old argument. No one contested the princess's right to name Naeda her right-hand and allow her strength. If nothing else, Naeda was notable as the first life that the Spring Voice had spoken out in this rebirth incarnation. But her attachment to her first creation was frequently mistaken for a weakness in her character.

Before the king or queen could scold at her saccharine attachments, the spring princess tried again to raise concern. “No one has come forward to say that there was a quarrel. But now 5 are dead.”  

There was something unsettling about hearing her lady but seeing no new life sparked. The famous voice remained as lovely to the ear as ever, but the ground here had been frozen for many centuries against the power of much more mature witches. It held without so much as a sprout.

As she listened, the queen had gone to lean against her husband. She leaned against him and raised a hand to play with the crown at his brow. It was a humble thing, an heirloom tiara of clear and green stones set in silver. It had been worn by the 2nd queen. It matched the silver of the high crown that the queen wore, but lacked all the glamor and sparkle of the 51 jewels it boasted. It had been designed by the queen herself. It suited her majesty perfectly, but it would overwhelm the princess completely. The princess did not ever wish to wear a crown at all. The alternative was failure and death. Naeda had determined that the princess would live, but she would no doubt wear an older crown, or perhaps weave flowers.

When the queen spoke with a wry smile, Naeda had the spark of insight that the queen also knew her eldest was unsuited to the high crown. Her continued favor of a daughter who seemed doomed might have been a kindness or a cruelty.

“You are a delight. My humble daughter, come not to seek audience and support to prepare for your own challenges, but to report on the doings of the small people.” The queen tapped a finger against her husband's crown and held out a hand for his empty cup. “Worry not. They pass from the world and they come back anew.”

“They pass with frequency of late.” The princess didn't back down. “Many of them are young, and not those particularly prone to quarrel. Two from the lower court were changed- they will not become themselves again.”

The queen gestured for her daughter's servant to put the last crystal cup down on the small table. Naeda obeyed in silence, as she always had. “I see.” The queen shared an amused look with her young love. “Interesting. I look forward to seeing what they will become.”  

The princess tilted her face up, so that her dark eyes better caught the light and her mother might look at them. “Did they displease you, queen?”

“Not at all.” The queen stopped playing with her lover's hair and eyed the hands still connecting the two young fae. She waved her hand, indulgent. “New life and rot. Now they rot, soon there will be new life. Do you fancy yourself summer? It is not for our kind to linger, girl.”

“What would you have us do?” The king finally spoke. He smiled. “It seems resolved. This season is busy work.”

“We cannot get involved in every squabble,” the queen added. Her berry-blackened lips turned up at the corners. She was amused by her daughter's softness, as always, but fondness kept the words light. “There was some argument, or perhaps a flight of passion. It has passed.” The light overhead grew a little brighter. “Worry not. Return to your work, and think on your improvement. Your cousin is coming for you, child.”

Naeda's lady remained silent to express her displeasure. It strained at her character.

The queen laughed. She leaned down, down, down, until her terrible beauty was level with their faces. The fairy queen glittered like diamonds. In comparison, the princess's green complexion was shamefully plain. In the light of her mother, the princess faded further into unimportance, passing from the shade of moss to a shadow of leaves in the water.  

“Go speak to them,” the queen commanded. “Let's see what they become.”

Thus dismissed, the couple went back out of the palace. It was, Naeda thought, a terrible waste that the lady was too displeased to take advantage of the royal wards to speak her heart's content without overwhelming anyone listening. The lifegifts of the spring queen-line did not take effects within the bounds of the ancient palace. It was too set in its ways.

One of the princess' lesser sisters stopped them at the gates with a great cat at her feet. She gave an unpleasant smile, beset with sharp teeth. “The Voice and her Silence. Did you beg the queen for a boon?” Her companion tittered on cue- a tall, slim fae with a long face. Naeda had not seen her before. She committed the face to memory, because she knew the princess would not.

The Voice didn't rise to the mockery, or admit that the queen had given her concentrated magic. An impartial observer would probably conclude that the cousin was the stronger princess- that she would kill Naeda's lady and take her place. But at least the queen still had a favorite, and she was not above helping her daughter prepare for whatever competition would come. And whatever it was, even the queen suspected that the princess could not do it alone. She would not have splashed the wine on Naeda unless she expected Naeda to be useful.

Naeda- now named Silence by the jibe- swallowed, remembering the feel of magic on her tongue. Her blood was still high from the gift, intended to help strengthen the princess for her battles. A drink of pure, fine magic was a rare thing indeed, but the princess had been making a point in sharing it. She would not change her ways.

The lesser sister began to frown, and tried to step in front of them. She looked at Silence and thought better of it- she would not be the first member of the high court that Silence tore apart for showing insolence. Her expression was dark and sullen, pride pricked by the lack of acknowledgment. That had been the point, after all- most of the young ones hoped to be heir to the 7th spring queen, and establish themselves early as someone worth noticing.

Her lady inclined her head in no answer at all and kept walking. Silence resisted the need to watch the child disappear behind them.

That made at least two of the Lady's sisters, then. Silence set her jaw grimly. The wolves had begun to circle early- the court had been taking sides with gay abandon since the eldest daughter of the queen's youngest sister had declared that she ought be heir. The queen had been amused and allowed the challenge. She had earned her own crown, after all, by slaying her sister and a cousin in a maze.  

And now friends were being burnt and crushed, skin peeled off and hearts pierced with coral. Old and young- a loyalist from the last Voice's reign had been skinned and left hanging in the trees not five weeks earlier.

It was not the innocent violence of fairy squabbling. It was politics.

They did as they were told- the princess took down her barriers, first in the wood where the wind had been slain, and then the bluffs overlooking the sea that separated them from the mainland. A party of three young friends had been slain there, bashed against the rocks.

In the wood the princess hesitated, affected by grief at her childhood playmate's fate and the stench of his ruin. She ought sing true and create something to suit and heal the forest around- but she lifted her voice in stubborn rejection. She chose sorrow. The handmaiden sighed, feeling peace wash over her body and lift her shoulders.  

The smaller body- a sprout of a fae who had never reached her 58th year- dissolved into the loam and her flesh became a school of yellow fish. They twisted on the ground, startled. At their center a heart-stone shone, red and pitifully small. The princess left it there to seed as it would. Then the ground dipped below them, and welled with shallow waters. The fish dipped into it gratefully, visible and bright through clear water. Reeds reached up. At the center of the clearing, a raspberry bush wept and sank, twisting until it became a willow. It stretched to the sky and bent to cast shade, curling around the body that remained as if to protect it.

A high, clear note took the body to rot. It sank down and into nothingness, just matter that could be used to start new growth. The only thing left was the one solid remnant of a high fairy- the heart. His heart had developed over his 182 years. It was not the true red of an infant, nor the crystal of a mature fae. It was cloudy pink and heavy when the handmaiden bent to pick it up. She cupped it in her palms and held it up, so that the Lady could better see it.

“Keep it.” The words broke the song. The weeping willow tree swayed, startled that it was done growing. The princess gave Naeda a fond look. “Look for a good combination.”

She ducked her head, touched at the faith in her judgment. Naeda tossed out the seeds and dust that she had been carrying in her pouch to make room for the stone.  

They separated at the seaside with lighter moods. The princess wasn't made for grief, and so she was better prepared to help seed among the rot from the cliffside. Naeda went to the west, looking at the great ship bobbing along the harbor. That land-bound cousin had made it from driftwood and salt, or so she claimed. It was unorthodox, but impressive enough to gain her an admiring visit or two from the court. Fairies were fickle by nature, but the betrayal bit at Naeda in a way that the princess couldn't muster. The princess could be forgiven- she was meant to serve no one, so she need not abide by any loyalties.  

But the others could never be fully trusted, no matter how charming they might be. By her very nature Naeda was bound to her lady. It set her apart from the lesser fairies, no matter how magical or influential they might be.

She cast an uncharitable look and a stone over at the cousin-challenger's ship, and then crept down into the sharp rocks to see what she might become. Her first guess had been right- the boon from the queen's hand had made her feet quiet, silencing even the scrape of skin on stone or the patter of a dislodged pebble. It had not made the skin strong, and there was no sign of what the wine had done when she drank. She washed the blood from her soft feet away in the ocean and let salt prick at her wounds, weighing the stone she had been given in thought.  

It spoke softly, as hearts were wont to, but she was patient and quiet by her nature. So she listened. It was a strong, fierce heart, that was flighty with the details but true to the gist of intention. He had been a good friend, truly. He would be again, but in what form? She contemplated it for some time, as the waves crashed and the heat of the day slipped into a chill that she could hardly stand. A shark came and tipped his hungry head out of the water, watching her. She tilted her head at it and waited, curious if it was a beast or if it might present a more diverting challenge. It didn't dare come into the shallows, no matter how her blood called it. Probably a fairy, then, one clever enough to be wary of her strength even when hungry. It left before she did.

When the princess called from miles distant, Naeda came. Hand in hand, they returned to the palace, where they found most of the inner court scattered outside the gates. There was a cacophony of laughter, proof of good mood and interest all around. It was a grand impromptu party. She had not seen its like for weeks. They wound through, curious at the spectacle. Excitement and the scent of fresh hot bread, fruits, honey, teas, and many other good things perfumed the air.

“Breath of spring!” The princess turned at her name, already smiling. The tree spirit who had called stepped away from her conversation with a visitor from summer court. Her hair was a delightful puff of green around her head. Today she wore a grin and a crown of white and pink flowers.

“Loli,” the princess greeted. Nearby partiers laughed and clapped at the carpet of wildflowers that bowed away from her feet. She cheered, looking as light and young as she truly was. “What is the occasion?”

“A fire in the palace,” Loli said, the gossip conveyed with delight. “The old queen and king have burnt.”

The princess drew back in shock. “Murder? A coup?”  

Loli shrugged, losing interest in the conversation when it wandered towards the dull details. “I suppose it wasn't you, then? Pity.” She sounded a little bored. “It must have been your lady-cousin, then. She's at the front.” She gestured with her long brown fingers, a close match for the shade of Naeda's own skin. The tree spirit's ring of oak was almost invisible against her skin, except for the pale gnarl at the center. “She's called for a coronation within the day, and most seem to agree.”

“Whose coronation?” the princess asked, urgent. Even a fairy could muster some interest when the death discussed was possibly theirs.

Loli just laughed. She drifted away.

That was probably the mood of most of the court, Silence knew. She held her breath and then released it quickly when she realized what she was doing. Now was not the time to pass into comfortable invisibility. Her lady needed support. Naeda, a perfectly bent mirror of her creator, would never be mistaken for an impartial supporter, but she was young and strong and did account for something. And she had a recent boon. Had the queen seen this?

They passed through the crowd until they found the usurper-cousin. Naeda eyed the other fae for the first time, taking in her features. She had the family look about her, at least, and she had the grace to be taking the situation seriously. While most of the observers were cavorting or casting bets, she had the same grim air that Naeda and her princess held.  

The usurper opened her mouth to take the conversational lead, but the true princess beat her to it. “Cousin.” She put true power into the word, and a long black snake dropped to land on the offending family member. The shock and momentary disgust on the rival's face was satisfying, at least.

Naeda felt herself smiling. This outsider might kill them both, as she had killed their most visible supporters and the old queen, but at least she would take them seriously.

“Voice of Spring,” the cousin responded, perfectly polite. She lowered the hand that had moved to dislodge the serpent. Pity that she did not try. It was venomous and angry. The cousin might be improved by a near-fatal poisoning. “I proposed a sunset ceremony. What say you?”

The princess could hardly contest it, at this late hour. She inclined her head with grace. “We must settle our differences within 23 hours, then.”

When she smiled, the rival had yellow teeth that marked her as a predator- meat stained more than vegetation. Naeda made a mental note, eager to compile any information at all about what type of strength the challenger might have. “A footrace is merry and traditional.”

“Tamer than I expected from you,” the princess retorted, with a glance at the palace ahead. Her mother was dead inside, somewhere. Perhaps in the room where they had spoken not three hours before. Even for a fairy court, that was a rude way to arrange a family meeting.

“A chase,” the rival amended. She seemed amused at the princess's temper. “A rabbit's run- we are young and fleet of foot. A member of my court at your heels, a champion of your own at mine.” She cast a glance at Naeda before she could volunteer. “Not your blood or your magic.”

That, Naeda thought, had been canny. Naeda had no influence of her own, but she had been born of the first magic of the Voice's 7th incarnation, and spent her lifetime in the shadow of royal power. She was as strong as any inner court member.

“I'll hunt for the Voice,” a woman said. It took a moment to place her as the fae who had been speaking with the young princess that morning. Naeda bristled at the suggestion- she did not trust an associate of the young schemer to act on her princess' behalf. She reached out across the bond with her lady, to warn her to turn the offer down because there would be plenty-  

and found nothing. Shocked, she jerked her face up. The rival was looking at her with a cold smile. Barriers. It was one of the rarer abilities that turned up in the royal line- the princess could do it too. So that was one of the outsider's abilities- she could separate things and people. Had she used that- trapped the allies that she had been hunting and slaying? That would explain why there had been no calls for help, no escapes.

The princess smiled at the volunteer. “I accept my champion.”

Cold fear washed over her body. No, no, no- anger broke through the fear. She scanned the crowd, looking for the person eager to suggest themselves to play the other part. That murderer had managed to plant someone friendly to take it easy on her. She would not set a wolf on the gentle lady.

A man as tall and angular as the woman was opening his mouth. He was a pale slate-blue, with rows of white teeth.

Not a wolf. A shark.

Naeda bared her teeth and threw up silence. She concentrated it in his direction, not caring that she was inflicting it on people to his sides. She was in time- his mouth moved, and nothing came out.

No one spoke.

And that was ludicrous. Naeda was only stealing four voices. The rival had a great many people here who wanted to see her victorious, and there were plenty of others who didn't care for anything but the show. Someone else should volunteer to hunt on her behalf. It was only polite.

They could, at least, be honest.

She looked around, seeking eye contact with someone before the rival's ally countermanded her spell. Two avoided her, glancing away with guilt, but- one met her gaze, let her eyes widen in surprise, and nodded.

Loli pulled her gaze away put her hand up with a laugh. “If no one else will, I will run.” She gave the rival a friendly smile as all attention turned to her. It was- not optimal, from the rival's perspective. Loli did not look particularly fierce. But she would run fast and fair and do her level best to break the legs of her assigned prey.

The other fae faltered, but inclined her head. “I accept,” she said, because it would be more embarrassing to turn down her only champion.

The two competitors separated, and the court broke off into two camps. The Princess went into the wood, while the Rival took her party to the valley. Naeda lingered, for a time, as fae of high status claimed places at the Princess's side, to braid strands of grass and victory into her hair, to whisper into her ears and rub oils into her feet. As fair folk came and went, she found herself further and further to the outside of things.

“Dearheart?”

The lovely voice was only in her head. Naeda felt relief. She was no longer separated. But now she knew it was a risk…

She told the princess that the rival could create barriers, and cautioned her to have little faith in the fangs on the fae chasing the rival. The princess was annoyed, and then admiring at the deception. Naeda considered pointing out that it was not a particularly masterful deception, given that they had seen the fairy with a hostile person recently, but chose not to.  

When Naeda slipped out, the princess was telling her prospective court that she would put on the royal crown tomorrow, and gain the magics of her foremothers.

There was no use in her presence at the merry gathering, Naeda gathered. She was not important enough to be close. The admirers gathered would keep the princess safe through the night, because they would be the first punished by banishment to the lower courts if the rival became queen tomorrow.  

Besides. Cheating in a chase was expected, but the princess could not be involved. Naeda was determined to ease her path, but it had to be without coordination.

She went back to the ocean, with a mind to forcing her gifted magics to manifest through necessity. She crept over the rocks and moss. She was agile and silent, but that was as usual. She tested her strength by lifting heavy rocks, her wits by arguing with a seahorse, and dove under the water to see if she could breathe water. She had not yet changed. Wet and sullen, she held her breath until her dark brown skin faded, and all she could see was the rock she sat on.  

There were ripples out in the water. She narrowed her eyes at them and stood, inherently suspicious.  Naeda was not so far from the rival's ship, and not so far from the largest killing field. Perhaps seeing the shark nearby had not been a happy happenstance.

She held her breath, waiting for whoever was around to show themselves. She waited until even her strong lungs threatened mutiny, and then she crept behind and below rocks into a shadowed place to breathe and then creep out once she was invisible again. She waited like a lizard on the sun-warmed rocks, creeping into shadows to breathe when she needed. Eventually she was rewarded. The shark came out. He did not even creep. He was merely walking.

Naeda scowled. She felt affronted by how casually he came down the path, jangling the bone necklaces he wore. How was this one of her rivals? Perhaps she should kill him now. The impulse rose. She was, in all likelihood stronger than he was, and he did not know she was there.

She mastered herself. He was meeting whoever was in the water. It would do her more good to find information from their dealings.

When he reached the rocks, he launched himself a surprising distance through the air to slip seamlessly into his home. Naeda snuck a breath, and then slid into the water after him. She was delighted to notice that her fingers oblinged her by developing a webbing, and even more pleased that the blessing was not spent yet. She followed the clouds of sand kicked up by powerful, careless swimming, using them as cover.  

Given her caution, it took time to reach those that she pursued. The shark was wearing two feet again, perched on the sand. Nearby was a familiar face…

Naeda scowled, confused at how the usurper's people had even met the hag who lived at the far end of the island. She was not social. Even the fairies did not deal with her, given that she hungered for their flesh above all things.

She considered her options. It was difficult to read the conversation through clouds of sand, but the shark was… he was telling the hag the terms that had been decided. Unfriendly as always, the hag left with haste.

A spark of insight into their plan came. The princesses would run the island length- the hag was positioned at the ending point. If the princess arrived before the rival, she would find a fight she did not expect, around the bend where the victory party would wait for the fleet of foot. The princess must be warned, or she must go ahead and kill the hag before the lady could arrive.

The shark turned his face to her. Across the distance separating them, she knew she had been caught. She did not bother trying to freeze, as a rabbit would do. Naeda burst into motion, abandoning stealth in a race for the shore. A fight in the water was not to her advantage. She did not turn, but the shark must be behind her, must have shifted back to his raspy skin.

Teeth caught her ankle- she twisted like a snake and punched, shattering the great fangs before they could take her foot off. It had been lucky. She was still invisible. The shark shifted to have hands again, grabbing and questing into the cloudy water for an opponent she could not see. Her impulse was to wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze- a mistake, since he was not breathing. His hands flew up to hers, trapping them. She brought her uninjured leg up and dug claws into his belly, wounding deeply. She did not let go, gave no quarter, and kicked her way up to the surface. Her chest ached for air, but she held firm, and used her brutal strength to toss the shark out of the water in a great arc toward the land. He landed on the rocks with a fearsome crack of bone. His cry was terrible and satisfying.

By the time she came to the shore herself, injured and slow in the water, he had slithered away to lick his wounds. The next time they fought, she told herself, it would be on land. She would eat his heart, so that he never again challenged her.

She staggered, leaving blood behind her to mark her path. She found flowers and honey and pressed them into her wound, and climbed a tree to rest safely. She did not intend to sleep, but woke on the following day. Naeda brought her leg up to her face to inspect, and found it satisfactory. Her wound was healed, but there was a mark in the shark's slate blue color. Naeda traced it with her finger, admiring the great teeth, and then she remembered her task.  

“Lady?” she reached, expecting an answer. None came- the rival. Naeda felt hatred, and then reluctant admiration for the foresight. It was hours, yet, until the challenge would near the end. It ought to take the princess and her rival about 4 hours to run the full length of the island, even before sabotage was taken into account. It was morning, yet. She judged there was likely an hour, or even more before the race would begin.

She could not interfere with the rival directly. It was offensive that the rival's people were planning to target the princess if she was faster, but she would not sink to those depths. The victory would be tossed aside.  

But she could and would act against the servants.

Naeda steeled herself and leapt to the forest floor. She was light on her feet, crossing the length of the island and continuing north as the sun climbed higher. The race must have started in truth- the princess and the rival would be running, now. Most of the high court was waiting at the finish,  the others ambling behind or laughingly running aside to see what they could.  

She reached the hagland. The princess must be hours behind, even if her path was unobstructed. It would not be. The witch herself was no where to be seen, but her wooden shoes were laying at the end of the dock.  

Did that mean something?  

Naeda frowned. She had never seen the hag with bare feet. She approached cautiously, unsure. Were they magical? Were they being recharged? Was it a trap, to lure a curious fairy into the open? She paused, alarmed. She held her breath until she was as visible as a dust mote floating in the sunlight, and walked with all her quiet. She reached the edge of the dock and looked around. No one.  

She reached out with a foot and cautiously pushed one of the wooden shoes off into the water. It landed with a plop.

“What are you doing?” The hag was standing at the other end of the dock. Her gray, grim countenance was twisted in confusion.

Opportunity!

Naeda leapt the length of the dock and brought the hag down with her weight. The hag squalled, furious, but her voice cut off when Naeda clutched her throat. She bared her teeth and dug her claws  in, digging rivets into the flesh. The much older combatant had a tough hide, but it split under Naeda's grip like a summer peach.  

The hag managed to use her superior weight to move them, rolling Naeda completely, and then once more until they fell into the water. The hag's hair came alive, trying to catch her with its tangles. It scored thin cuts into her hands and forearms, but the hag was already weakened. The struggling slowed and stopped long before Naeda needed air. She laughed at the cloud of blood in the water and shook the corpse in her grip for the pleasure of watching it move. And then, because she was practical, she kept one hand on the throat in case of trickery and used the other to tear open the hag's chest. She dug out the heart, pocketed it, and then let the flesh go away to where the currents wanted it.

When she heaved herself out of the water, panting and victorious, the shark was waiting. He grinned at her and stood. “Green-Eyes,” he greeted. It was not a name she had been given before. Naeda Green-Eyes waited, wary. “I know your blood.”

Naeda had not bothered to remember the taste of his. She almost wished she could tell him so. It would make the smile slide off his face.

That fight was long, and hard.

He was hard to grip. When she wished to hold or tear, his skin became the many sharp, small shields of a shark. When he wished to evade he had the ability to twist, and long, strong arms to trap her at a distance. At one point she had her seat on his chest and was using a grip on the tangles of his hair to bang his skull against the dock, again and again. He could not dislodge her, but the beating seemed to have no effect against his head. Furiously offended at the lack of blood, Naeda tried harder.

A laugh drifted up from the shore. “Are you having fun?” The princess was standing on the shore, her lovely countenance smeared in viscera. Her dress was torn, revealing the saber she kept at her hip. It had seen recent use.

Naeda cheered, using the weight of her torso to bang her opponent's head down the next time. She nodded brightly. It seemed that the princess had done well- her hunter had not been fierce enough.

The princess's gaze drifted up, to land on the shark. She looked amused, and then she flitted away into the mist.

In her moment of distraction, the shark over turned her. Panicked, Naeda scrambled to break his grip- and the last of the magic answered, giving her a gift of physical strength. She followed her advantage on reflex, snapping his hand at the wrist. With a startled cry, the shark tried to flee backwards, but she was indomitable. She grinned up at him, not letting him escape the clench of her legs, and held his jaw up with one hand. With the other, she leisurely broke his ribs.

He gasped something.

She quirked her head to the side, and tried to decide if she was interested. She was, a little. Just enough to let her grip gentle enough for him to speak.

“A truth and a boon,” he gasped. “A truth and a boon for my life.”

Naeda laughed.  

“Two truths and my loyalty,” he tried again.

She paused at that, intrigued.  

He saw it in her eyes and smiled winsomely, showing off two rows of lovely, jagged teeth. He pressed the advantage. “You are strong. I will be as loyal to you as you are to your lady. With a servant of your own, your influence will grow.”

That was appealing, for a girl made from a song. She nodded, slowly. She loosened her grip. It was traditional for her to ask after the truths she sought, but that was impossible, so she used her face to make clear that he had best give good truths.

The shark used the small amount of leeway she had given him to breathe. He held up a finger, long and broken. “I am not and have never been loyal to the lady from the land,” he said.

Her blood went cold.

He knew it, too, from the satisfaction in his smile. It was a good truth. It had weight to it. It meant that she had been very, very wrong. She had misunderstood from the start. If he was not the servant of that lady- who did he work for? He and the hag- innocent? Or was there a third party?  

She leaned forward, slowly. Her eyes told him which truth she wanted now. “I never cared who won,” he told her, cheerful. “I wished to end the stagnation, and others thought the same. The hag was to assure that any queen was strong of arm, not merely hasty.” When her grip tightened on him he hastily added, “We have been killing allies of both, to hasten the conflict.”

Naeda let him go. He had fulfilled his word. As he straightened, he looked over to her. “You should have let me choose the second truth,” the shark said. He was still amused.

He would tell it to her when he was loyal.  

She knocked his feet out from under him and sat on his belly. He writhed in alarm, but stilled when she put a hand on his chest in warning. He was confused, but he did not fight her. Not, at least, until she carved open his chest to expose his heart.  

She gave him a pitiless look, irritated by his struggles, and brought the faithful heart of the west wind from her pouch. She brought it down on the shark's heart, forcing the two to meld. His screams were long and high. When they quieted, she helped him to stand, and patted the torn skin of his chest back together. Then she waited.

He blinked down at her, bewildered and quietened. Then he seemed to understand what she wanted. He seemed pleased to give it to her. “The cousin of your lady,” he said. “She is a shape-changer.”

Her blood was ice. Her heart was heavy. She knew, now, why the rival had used her power to separate the princess and her charge. There had been no one to answer the princess's calls. She went slowly and without hope to the ending point of the race. The rival was there, laughing. She still wore the princess's bloodied sword at her hip. Her eye caught Naeda when she entered, and she nodded acknowledment.  

Naeda nodded back to her future queen.  

The rival laughed, high and victorious. She had Naeda brought to the front of the crowd and paraded about for their amusement. Dully, she allowed the magic pulsing around her body to be shown and admired. They were impressed by the servant she had made, a fairy with the teeth of a shark and the heart of wind. And they laughed, when the rival decided that Naeda would be named the heir.  

It was, Naeda thought, just punishment. She did not protest. The line of younger princesses eyed her, opportunistic and gleeful now that they knew who they must kill to gain favor.

Two of the oldest fae brought out the crowns- the one the queen had worn, and the heirloom she had graced her husband with. The stupid outsider did not know that it was not the crown for the heir apparent, and no one desired to tell her. Naeda watched, hateful and still, as the rival wore the grand crown. As it fit her head, her skin turned to a field of stars. Her eyes changed to the color and reflective quality of the purple jewels at the top of her crown. She drew herself to her full height, satisfied in victory. The crown had certainly conveyed at least a kiss of the queen's magic. The gathered crowd applauded cheerily. The oldest fairies were still. Why. What did they know that the young did not?

Something prickled at Naeda's recollection. She worked not to smile as the smaller, humble tiara was laid on her head. She did not move, she did not display outwardly the rush of power that had gone through her until the tiara was fully on her head and eyes had moved away from her.

The handsome tree spirit turned back to the rival to finish the ceremony by formally declaring her the 7th queen of the spring court.  

Naeda knew what the 6th queen had known. Naeda Green-Eyes, the Silence, knew that the princess who was the queen's favorite would never have presumed to wear the great crown. Her magic had been gifted through the silver tiara. She pushed the tree spirit aside and tore the usurper to pieces before she had time to wear terror. The crowd screamed, delighted and surprised. They applauded her as readily as they had the rival.

Stone-faced, she took the blood-stained crown off the face that had been so pretty until recently. She put it under her arm, and turned to the officiant. He named her the 7th queen of the spring court.