Fox’s Tongue and Kirin’s Bone - Chapter 10: Faces and Fey

The fey held herself like a feral kitten, ready to bolt or bite on the moment, her face hidden in the darkness of her cloak. She was too short to be full grown, by human standards—but what were human standards to a fey?

She cast a glance down the hall, to where light slipped in through the window of the guard room’s door. Then she smoothed her dress and knelt down outside his cell. He could feel her watching, even if he couldn’t see her eyes.

“You were awake, weren’t you. Last night.” Her voice was young, but there was a seriousness to it that counted more than years.

Aaron straightened himself up in his nest of blankets. “I dreamed a girl opened a door in the wall. Only seemed fitting to have a gift waiting, if she came around again.”

The fey gave a small snort. He couldn’t quite tell if she was amused or offended. “One roll is hardly a gift.”

He fished in his coat and displayed his find over the blanket’s edge. “A roll and a half?” His other hand peeked out, a moment behind. “With cheese?”

He scooted forward and set them on the tray before retreating back to the wall. The little fey did not seem quite sure what to make of him. But after a moment of silence, in which he had time to fully appreciate what a sorry excuse his offering was, she accepted.

She was a surprisingly hungry little thing. A neat eater, but hungry.

“You live in the castle walls?” Aaron asked. “Do, ah, the royals know about you?”

She just about choked on a bite of bread, covering her mouth to stifle her coughs. Neither of them seemed eager to make enough noise to get the guard looking in. “No. Though they would, if any of them bothered to pay attention.”

That was a bit of a sour point, it seemed.

“What do you do?” Most who lived among humans set themselves a task, however unasked—the housekeepers, the shoe makers, the stove cleaners, the street layers. The little ones who liked to be left alone for a night with a fresh bowl of milk and didn’t much care to have their work interrupted.

She didn’t answer for a time. Maybe it was rude to ask, he realized belatedly.

“I keep the library dusted,” she answered finally, her voice a bit too light. She tilted her head. “Why are you here? You’re not really a fey, are you?”

Aaron settled his blankets more firmly around his shoulders and tried not to watch the rest of his food disappearing. A person couldn’t be stingy with the Fair Folk. “Well, I was arrested as a doppel. Which I’m not, and they know. So mostly I’m arrested out of spite, I think. Couldn’t tell them what they wanted, so I’m in here to rot.”

She delicately broke a piece of cheese off and centered it on a bite of bread. “That doesn’t sound like something the king would approve of.”

Aaron shrugged. “Well, maybe it’s not just Gentry in their walls that the royals don’t bother paying attention to.”

She chewed thoughtfully for a moment. At least, he thought it was thoughtful chewing. Bit hard to tell, when he couldn’t see her expression. “Are you a rat?”

“A rat’s a doppel, technically,” Aaron said. “I’m a Face.”

“And what’s that?” She broke off a bit more cheese. It had been a small chunk to begin with, but she seemed determined to spread it out over the entire roll-and-a-half.

“A Face?” It was stupid to be surprised. The little fey weren’t known for traveling far once they’d settled. She probably didn’t get down to the caves very often. He certainly wouldn’t, if he had the choice. “You know that doppels start changing, right? You can’t go between forms like that and not have things start mixing, not without calling on things best left forgotten. It’s like smearing paint. Doppels all start human, but they don’t end that way. None of them.”

She gave a wise little nod. “That’s why they need killing. It’s a mercy.”

He knew plenty who would disagree with her, but he wasn’t about to argue. It was probably just the idea she’d picked up listening through walls.

“Point is, doppels still need to eat. They still want clothes, they still like to have a drink. So they send Faces to get it for them.” He waved a hand over his own expression. “See? Faces, because that’s what they need from us: a human face.”

Her next piece of bread was in her hand, cheese crumb balanced on top, but she’d not eaten it yet. “Is that why you were arrested?”

A flush rose to his cheeks. “It’s not, thank you. And even if it were, it’s not like anyone chooses to be a Face.”

She caught her breath. “They kidnap children, then? Like in the south?”

“They’re not polite enough to leave changelings behind, either.” Aaron scratched at the back of his head. He couldn’t think of a graceful way to change the topic, so he just barreled ahead with it. “So. Ah. Have you heard anything in those walls about a Lady?”

He’d thought he’d need to be more specific, or explain that he’d heard no name to go with the title. The castle had to have more than one lady living in it, after all. But it was clear from the moment he asked that the little fey knew exactly who he was referring to.

She shoved the bread in her mouth and did not answer until she was done chewing. It was all very proper and about as obvious of a stall as it could be. “You’re not a doppel, are you?”

“What does she do with doppels?”

“Skins them,” the girl answered, carefully building her next bite. “It’s how they make their cloaks.”

“Cloaks?” It was the sort of question he knew he didn’t want an answer to, but he asked anyway.

She gestured to her own cloak. “It’s how they slip their skins, when they need to go scouting. She leads the Late Wake.”

The fey kept eating. Aaron’s own skin, meanwhile, did its best to crawl off of his bones, with or without help from the Lady.

Six, six, Late Wake’s tricks.

The Late Wake were His Majesty’s spies. Scouts, the nobles called them. Skin stealers, unnatural, inhuman—those were the common folk’s words. Aaron found that two blankets weren’t nearly enough to stop his shuddering. He took a deep breath, trying to hide it, not sure whether the fey was watching him or not as she finished off the last few pieces of his food.

He’d rather not meet this Lady.

The fey brushed crumbs off her lap and stood, ready to leave the moment her offering was gone. Typical. But tonight, at least he was awake to see her go.

She paused suddenly, her hands on her skirt.

Aaron glanced to the light from the guard room. No change, there. He looked back to the girl. “What is it?”

“You won’t tell the guards about this, will you?”

Him. Tell the guards. Him. He couldn’t even imagine the look on his face. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem enough for her.

“You won’t,” she said. “You can’t. Not them, not anyone. Do you understand?”

Aaron cracked a grin. “Perhaps if I had some token of your favor, to remember you fondly.”

He meant it as a joke, but the fey stood for a very long time in studious silence. She reached up under her hood. When she brought her hand back out, there was something clasped tightly in her palm. She thrust her hand out towards him, stopping just before the iron bars of his cell.

He hesitated to take it. Fair gifts were rarely given so easily. But then, they couldn’t be refused so easily, either. He edged forward until he could stretch his own hand out from between the bars. Her fingertips brushed against his palm and he felt the touch crackle like the lightning a cat’s fur tossed in winter. The fey startled back, looking at him a moment more. Then she was running, her slippers nearly soundless, towards the solid stone at the end of the cell block.

“Wait!” He’d said it too loud and both of them knew it. There was a tension to her shoulders that hadn’t been there before, and her head darted in the direction of the guard room, then back to him.

Now that he had her attention, he didn’t know what to say. Didn’t even know what he’d been planning to. But it felt like he owed her something. His fingers tightened around her gift. “Thank you.”

She stared his way a moment more. Then she touched the wall and was gone, simple as stepping through a door, like the stone wasn’t even there for her. He would have given anything to do the same.

The door to the guard room creaked open. Chereau stood in the doorway, game cards in one hand and a scowl on her face. “What are you doing in there?”

Aaron tucked his hand back under his blankets, squinting against the sudden light that silhouetted her. “Nefarious scheming,” he answered.

The guard snorted. “Had a nightmare, little fey?”

He buried himself deeper into his blankets, by way of reply.

“Don’t you worry. I hear the Lady’s due back tomorrow.” The woman took one last look around the cell block. Then she pulled the door shut again.

Tomorrow. The skin stealer would be back tomorrow.

That meant he’d best be gone, tonight.

Aaron waited long seconds as his eyes adjusted back to the darkness of the cells. Then he uncurled his hand.

He didn’t realize how hard his heart had been beating until his breath stopped.

“Thank you,” he repeated into the darkness, not caring what price the fey would ask.