7: Thirty Days

I followed the King, whose hand still held mine. We had entered the grand house again through a different set of doors I wasn’t familiar with. He was making his steps shorter than his natural stride, an effort I think to allow me to keep up. We took a series of turns down back hallways, all still gleaming with ornate golden details. I tried to soak it all in, the directions we took through the maze of hallways. I noted the beautiful paintings and sculptures as landmarks, making a map in my mind. If I needed to make a quick exit, I needed to know the lay of the land. Although I was still wary of the fae’s kindness, and I full stop did not trust the one they called Vas, I wanted to trust Nelo. Maybe not this King, not yet, but he seemed as though he cared. I promised myself that I could keep my guard up.

We stopped at the end of a hall. In front of us hung tapestry where a woven selkie turned her head towards me and glared. The moving tapestries still put me on edge. Orthus took his hand and pushed the weaving to the side, revealing a hidden door. It was heavy and wooden, with weathered iron hinges. This door seemed older than everything else I had seen in the manor, more rustic. Orthus released my hand and pressed it open, the movement bringing a blast of cool, damp air that splashed across my face. A pixie dashed by my head, wings beating furiously with a candle as if summoned without words. Its blue body moved quickly through the door and began lighting the scones that wrapped down a stone spiral staircase. Orthus looked back at me.

“It’s a bit of a walk. Are you well enough to descend, or would you prefer I carry you?” He asked. My face and chest flushed hot red. Carry me? Absolutely not. I pushed my face past the king’s chest into the flickering candlelight of the stairwell.

“So—How far down does it go?” I looked towards the king expectantly.

“A few hundred steps, but I wasn’t sure if you were feeling completely healed yet. I know your ankle was badly damaged.” I was surprised that he cared enough to take note of my injuries after I had punched him, it did not seem like something that a king should worry about, and it caught me off guard.

“I’ll be fine,” I choked out, “that healer seems to have done a great job.”

“Let me go first then; I can catch you if you stumble.” Orthus said. I nodded and promised myself that I would not fall.

“Lead the way, Orthus,” I told him, and he started the descent; I followed. The stairwell was cramped and felt too small for Orthus, but he did not show it if he struggled. His movements were so graceful. We descended without speaking. Although his breath was near-silent, I began to breathe a bit harder, even though I was willing my breath to be even. I looked at my feet, making sure they connected to each tread, my hand brushing the cool grey stones using the wall for balance. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right— Suddenly downturned head hit Orthus’s solid muscled back, and I placed my hands up defensively as my feet slipped from the narrow step. He twisted his arm and caught me, hand on my chest. I pulled back like a cat who had been pet in the wrong direction. His eyes dropped.

Illustration by Ana Kajaia

“Apologies, Cordelia.” He brought his face back up to mine with a half-smile. “Come, we’re almost there.” I realized we were now at the bottom. The stairwell opened into a cave, barely big enough for Orthus to stand fully. In the center was a shallow pool; rocks jutted up from its perimeter, matching their dripping counterparts in the ceiling. My eyes adjusted; the candles weren’t the only source of light in this cavern. Small worms that glowed faintly blue clung to the rocks on the ceiling. It was like a false night sky. The beauty of the worms’ display took my breath away. A small wood altar was visible on the far side of the pool, the pixie lighting the last of the twenty or so red candles that were placed on the altars surface. Two small paintings were in the center of those candles, their wax having dripped to create forms that mirrored the natural ones in the cave. This was not the first time these candles had been lit. It looked as though there were years of dripping wax that fell from the edge of the altar. I walked past the king towards the altar, somehow drawn to it.

The painting on the left held the face of a woman— No, a fae. I corrected myself, noting her ears. Her hair was long and blonde, swept over the right side of her shoulders. Her green eyes bored into me from that painting, her expression severe and intense. Most strikingly, there were burns or scarring that covered nearly the entirety of the left side of her face. I reached to brush the canvas, thinking stupidly that maybe I could feel the texture of those scars. I dropped my hand when I realized my lapse in reality and returned my attention to the other portrait. This one was damaged, the canvas marred by burns and— maybe a slash? I couldn’t begin to tell you what kind of person this painting had once been of.

“On the left, that’s Circe. I think Penelope has spoken of her to you.” Orthus had crept up so silently behind me. “She gave everything for us, to keep the humans— to keep...to keep the woman I loved safe.” He stuttered slightly, as though he couldn’t say her name. “I can never repay Penelope for what she gave up, losing Circe in the war. I’m happy that she’s found a friend in you, Cordelia.” I turned back to him and motioned towards the damaged canvas.

“And who was this?” I asked, gesturing to the destroyed painting. His eyes steeled.

“She didn’t come back to us, so it’s not important.”

Oh. That’s her; that’s Orthus’s human. “I”m sorry she betrayed you,” I told him, feeling his breath heavy over my head.

“I’m sorry, too,” Orthus whispered. He walked back towards the pool of water, and I followed. I was unnerved as the eyes of Circe’s portrait followed me through the cave. We stood before the blue waters of the cave’s pool. “This is a fairy pool,” He gestured towards the water. “You need the power held within them to cross the veil between our worlds.” He turned to me with a knitted brow, “They are not common; I feel it is no coincidence you are here. Even if you can’t remember it right now.” He kneeled, his shoulders in line with mine, and touched the water below. “I brought you down here to show you and maybe jog your memory.” It had been so black after I fell into the cave that I didn’t know what it had looked like- but I did remember sitting in those shallow calm waters and how they had snaked around me to break the magic of my cloak. My breath hitched, realizing that this was my way home. My heart wanted to fly out of my chest. Finally, I could go back. I widened my eyes and threw my arms around the King.

“Thank you so much! I want to go home so badly— thank you for bringing me here— I... I...” The king was rigid in my arms as I looked at his face as he tipped his square jaw down to mine. Pain filled his eyes.

“I can’t send you home now.” He said. “There’s only certain times that the magic is even able to be tapped into. Cordelia, we must make preparations; it’s not a simple process.” His voice cracked slightly. I recoiled, stepping back from him. I didn’t have time to wait. I needed to be home now. I couldn’t help myself as the hot angry tears streamed down my face.

“How long do we wait?” I cried, clenching my hands to my sides; I felt like a broken little girl. The king reached for my shoulder with a comforting touch. “Don’t touch me!” I said through gritted teeth. He didn’t drop the hand but kept it hovered near me. “I don’t need to be comforted— I need solutions. I need to go home.” The words came from my lips, harsher in my pain than I think he had heard from me before.

“Of course.” He spoke softly but still did not touch me- his body frozen. “The next time we could attempt a crossing, It’s not long after the winter solstice, one month” He beat his open palm to his chest in a show of frustration, “That’s all, one month. I promise I will do everything I can to get you home.” It was a month, not any significant length of time, but it felt like an eternity to me. How could my heart make it a month here, without my family, in a world so dangerous? I didn't know much about Fae, but I knew from my mother's stories that they could be tricksters.

“That’s not good enough. I need your word that I will be safe for this month. I need to know that I’ll live long enough to get home.” My words cut into Orthus like a knife, his face twisted in pain.

“I told you before that you were safe here— It is still true; do the words of a King mean nothing to you?” I scoffed, feeling emboldened by my pain.

“A king, but a stranger,” I told him, my voice shaking. His face softened slightly.

“You’re right; I am a stranger.” He rose to his feet again, his body suddenly foreboding, his eyes darkened. “Thirty days.” He walked past me, our arms brushing ever so slightly as he did. He didn’t say another word as he began ascending those steep stone steps. I looked back towards the painting of Circe, the pain that had ripped through the other image. The physical representation of his scorned love. I waited until Orthus was out of sight before climbing the steps myself. I wanted to be alone.