Have No Mercy (12 page)

"Lazy humans," said in
a sharp whip-like tone made my eyes spring free. "Get up lazy girl, you
missed breakfast and are about to miss the games we are putting on in your
honor."

Once the duvet was pulled off my
body, the chilly air of the castle spread over me. It was then I realized Flynn
was gone again. Had he been there? Or had it been a dream?

Nails like icicles dug into my
shoulder as I was yanked into a sitting position only then to be brought
standing right after.

"Look at her."

My eyes hadn't yet focused yet. I
brought my hand to my face to rub the haze of sleep out.

The tiny Fey from last night
who’d accompanied Madeline in my room clasped my wrist and forced my hands to
my sides. I thought she might tear my skin to shreds with the sharp bite of her
claws. Relief filled me when she let me go. However, with one swipe of her hand
barely a whisper from my chest, I thought she truly meant to kill me.

Her face was perfect like the
rest of the Fey. The fact that she was half Madeline’s size didn’t seem to at
all faze her. Her voice was a sharp as a knife when she spoke. "I'm not
sure what you can do with these, but the Queen doesn’t want her to look like a
human whore."

"Yes Madame."

A nervous tinny voice sent my
head to the right to see a man no more than a foot and a half tall hovering off
the ground with white wings that blurred with motion behind him. He looked like
a life-size doll with handsome features. However, when he talked, he made me
think of the Chucky doll from that old horror movie from before I was born that
Mom got me to watch.

The female Fey snapped her
fingers. "Make it quick, we will not delay too much longer."

I was roughly spun around by the
both of them as if they needed a good look. Once again facing them, I stood in a
thin gown of white wondering what they were about to do to me. The tiny man
didn't ogle me at all when he took in my form. He just muttered and made notes
on a tiny clipboard. I almost sighed and told him how cute the clipboard was,
but I thought better of it.

A loud whistle that outmatched
his diminutive size came before more tiny creatures appeared as if coming to
life from the paintings and carvings covering on my wall. I freaked then. Were
they always there or had they just entered through the mouths? Did they spy on
me at night?

Before I knew what was happening,
I had this vague sense of Cinderella. They weren’t anywhere close to being my
fairy godmothers, not the dozen or so little flying people, but they did seem
to build a gown from the ground up. Before I knew what was happening, I was
dressed in a gown that was sewn directly on me by dozens of tiny hands. I might
have thought it magic until I saw the thread and needles working furiously in
their tiny hands.

The second in command snapped his
fingers, and the Fey disappeared back into the walls. He focused his tiny eyes
on me.

"Perfect," the
orchestrator announced. "Now you must go before you are late."

They shooed me out the door once
again not having seen what I looked like. In the hall, he pointed with a
pinprick of a finger towards the left. It was the same direction that led
outside. I moved with swift haste as I heard cheers coming from beyond the
door. I was already late.

Outside, directly in front,
cattycorner to the hedge maze, the blanket of white was interrupted with rut of
dirt that spanned the length of half a football field. Down the center was a
wooden fence painted in off white, brick red and royal blue. There were riders
and horses covered head to toe with chainmail and bright colors of fabric over
top. Their heads were adorned with more metal with only slits for eyes. I had
no idea who was going to begin. Never in my life did I think I would see such a
sight. It was as if history came to bursting to life from the pages of my
history textbook. And there I was.

The sky overhead was a brilliant
blue. Gone were the storm gray clouds and howling wind. The crowd was seated in
covered risers that lined the path where the competitors would collide in an
attempt to push their opponent off their horse if they didn't kill themselves
in the process. I walked forward not yet seen as the covered bleachers were
facing away from me. I stepped up the steps of the middle of the bleachers to
find a seat when a hush fell over the crowd.

"Well, if the little
princess hasn’t decided to grace us with her presence." Madeline may have
been smiling, but menace was in her tone. I moved toward the seat she indicated
with her eyes. But before I could get there a hulking presence shadowed me. I
turned to find a rider on a big white horse covered in cloth of bright white
and azure blue. When the helmet was lifted, Flynn's grinning face greeted me.

"What," was the word
that tumbled out with my exhale of breath.

His cheeky grin only got bigger
as he stabbed a lance almost as tall as he was  in the ground beside him while
he sat astride a horse. "Surprised to see me."

Dumbfounded, I found myself
nodding in agreement. Although I shouldn’t have been. That was the contest to
which Madeline had referred. When his index finger rested under my chin, I
couldn't help the look of surprise that covered my face.

His next words came out as barely
a whisper. "Sometimes when you look at me, you take my breath away."
It was like slow mo when he leaned in and pressed his soft lips to mine. Slower
still, his hand moved from my chin into my hair as my mouth opened voluntarily
letting him in.

I should have slapped him for the
invasion. Yet, I couldn't stop the burn that radiated like heat throughout me.
Leisurely, he pulled back never taking his focus off my face, making me feel as
if I was the only girl in the world. I bit my lip under his heavy gaze.

A single clap thundered, breaking
the pull that held us together. "My, my, my.  That was almost
touching." Madeline’s smile morphed into a sneer as the last word utter
tumbled from her mouth. Next to her, Larrison's disdain drew my attention.

"Mother, you are so right.
It almost brought a tear to my eye."

What was he doing in the stands?
Hadn’t she said I was to cheer Larrison on? But another voice captured the
attention of everyone, including me.

"Queen Mab."

My head whipped around to my
opposite side. A rider dressed in a similar fashion as Flynn but draped in
blood red and black, cradled his helmet in his hand. By the time my eyes came
to rest on his face, I was able to not gape.

His wavy dark hair artfully hung
perilously close to covering one eye. His face had to have been sculpted by
Michelangelo himself. And despite that all Fey had perfect features, his didn’t
look inhumanly so. He was gorgeous.

"Rowen." The way the
Queen said his name with reverence had me glancing back at her and then back to
him.

"My lady." The lyrical
tone of the mysterious stranger and the way his head bent in respect left me to
wonder at who he exactly was. And his name continued to dance in my head.

"Introductions are over.
It's time for the games to begin."

There hadn't been any
introductions.  But when she clapped her hands together, movement started up.
Rowen inclined his head towards me as I continued to be struck by his presence.
His smile remained smirkless when tugged at his reins.

Flynn gained my attention by
pulling a ribbon free from my hair. One I hadn’t known was there. Apparently
the tiny Fey had worked their magic with my hair as curls tumbled to my shoulder.
And somehow, I felt exposed by that one act.

"For good luck," he
proclaimed.

He tied the baby blue ribbon
around the hilt of the lance before pulling it free and backing up with his
horse. I glanced down at my dress noticing for the first time that Flynn and I
wore the same colors.

Flynn gave a respectful bow to
the queen before heading off to the right. Rowen who had watched the whole
exchange expressionless, headed off to the left.

There wasn't time for protest.
And I was grateful for a short time that Flynn wasn't the first rider to embark
on a stupid medieval game. My horror grew when the first pair faced off. The
horses snorted out billows of frost making them look more than feral. I
couldn't see the riders hidden as they were underneath helmets with only slits
that shadowed their eyes. The riders could be headless horsemen for all I knew.
And in the fairy realm, I didn't doubt such things were possible.

And it began without so much as a
whisper or a shot of a gun like to start a track and field race. With an
unspoken word, the horses galloped towards each end, clueless of what was to
come.

At first, the lances were held
harmlessly forward. But then, as the two horsemen got dangerously close, each
of their arms shifted the trajectory of the lances to aim over the fence at
their competitor.

And then it happened. Brute force
caused the wooden lances to splitter on the chest of each man. But only one was
thrown back with hands held high as if in surrender. He tumbled back first into
the ground as the horse continued forward unperturbed with what happened.

I couldn’t help the gasp that
left my lips. The way the helmet bounced off the hard earth, whoever the Fey
was had to be hurt and in a bad way. I searched for Flynn and couldn’t find
him. His calm demeanor earlier suggested he was confident in taking on the
challenge. But it was my heart that clenched with terror.

Two cherub looking men with armor
and wings flittered over to the fallen contestant. The place was respectfully
quiet as they each took one arm and lifted him up without checking to see if he
was alive. The horseman's head lolled to one side as if his neck was a wet
noodle.

After the track had been cleared,
another pair lined up to do it again. It would be four matchups later until
Flynn finally lined up. His opponent bore bright checkered yellow and black.
With the lance in his hand, he resembles a hornet ready to sting.

Folding my hand as if in prayer,
I pressed them over my nose and mouth to hold in the fear. When the hooves of
Flynn's steed marched forward, my lungs ceased to function.

Everything happened so fast. A
crack of wood punctuated the fracture the lance on impact. I hadn't known I'd
close my eyes until a noise caused them to open. When the rider fell, I found
myself on my feet bouncing with glee that it wasn't Flynn being carted off in a
heap of limbs.

My over exuberance caused me to
get a number of stares that had me sitting back in my seat. The games continued
with each round eliminating one opponent while the other moved on to the next
bracket. The status of the losers was never given. And while I only outwardly
cared that one rider survived, a part of me feared for the rest. It seemed like
a wasteful way to lose one's life or limb.

Each time, Flynn was up, I
couldn't breathe. Later after he won a few rounds, I felt better about his
chances. The next time he was up, I was able to keep my eyes open the entire
time. When the lance connected with his chest, and he teetered in the saddle, I
was on my feet again, only to be held back from storming the field by the
Larrison’s steel hands. However, Flynn didn't fall, and his opponent did. So
while, he looked hurt, I knew he most likely would live.

Angered that Larrison dared stop
me, I forcefully shrugged him off only to miss seeing if Flynn left by his own
power. "Don't touch me."

Larrison only chuckled darkly as
if reminding me of my bargain. I was surprised when he didn’t mention it. That
worried me some.

When Flynn’s name appeared etched
in ice on a freaky score type board for another round, I sighed in relief. As
players were eliminated, the number of rounds in between Flynn’s runs
decreased. He couldn’t have picked a worse time to get hurt. His match was
after the next one. He’d had made it to the finale.

Larrison's jeered "Ah, but
when the boy loses, you will be mine."

"I will..." I didn't
finish that statement because all noise stopped. So far that had meant a new
round of the game had begun. But something was different. I faced forward to
see Flynn's royal blue and white appear at the line. I’d read the board wrong.
The finale was the current match.

Although I couldn't see him, his
body language screamed that he was hurt. I whipped my head in the opposite
direction to see the blood red and black of Rowen's colors. I wanted to protest
that Flynn needed time to recuperate. Hurt as he was, he was at a marked
disadvantage.

Unable to stop it, I watched in
abject horror as Flynn's horse began to move forward. He wobbled in the saddle
barely hanging onto the lance. He wouldn't make it. My heart marched at the
beat of the hooves. I'd watched enough to know when the riders should move
their lances in position. At that quarter point, Flynn made no move other than
to remain upright.

I wanted to close my eyes because
I knew he was going to lose. Rowen's lance was pointed at the bullseye of
Flynn's chest. Right before impact, Flynn listed to the right and Rowen's lance
glanced off of Flynn's armor. But when Flynn shifted positions, he'd positioned
his lance perfectly causing Rowen to be thrown off his horse and onto the
ground.

Just when I breathed, Flynn lost
balance or consciousness and fell off his horse. I couldn’t tell because he’d
raced on the opposite side of the track, making him partially hidden by the
fence.

I jumped up and vaulted unladylike
over the seats before Larrison could get his hand on me. I raced down the
stairs with skirts lifted enough not to be in my feet's way.

It felt like déjà vu, and my eyes
watered involuntarily remembering what it had been like to lose Luke without a
goodbye. I ducked through the opening in the slats of the fence. When I reached
Flynn, I carefully removed his helmet so I could see him. He appeared peaceful
as if sleeping, which only raised my alarm bells.

I fused my mouth to his in a
desperate attempt to force life into him. But it was fruitless. I had no power
in Fairy. My demon was all but gone or suppressed under the weight of the Fey
realm. I pulled back and whispered yelled, "I love you, licentious boy.
Don't do this to me again." Because there had been another day when a
hatchet protruded from his chest. The way my heart pounded in my chest like it
would stop beating if I lost him, I knew just how deep my feelings were for
him.

Frantic, I pressed my lips to his
again willing a reaction. His hand slyly cupped the base of my skull, and his
tongue snaked into my shocked and parted mouth. I should have been relieved,
but he laughed against my mouth. I tried to pull back but only got as far as he
granted me. Good to know he maintained his strength

 "If I knew that dying would
make you admit you loved me, I might have done it sooner."

He tugged me helplessly to tumble
onto his chest as he pressed another firm yet gentle caress of his lips to
mine. A clearing of a throat had us breaking apart. I rolled off of Flynn into
the dirt to gaze up at Rowen.

"Can you get up?" the
other boy offered with a proffered hand.

Flynn raised about an inch off
the ground before he fell back hard. "Nope, doesn't look like it. But
maybe Mercy can kiss me again. I'm pretty sure it was helping."

Playfully, I slapped at him only
to realize belatedly that I'd hit his injured shoulder. "Ouch," he
said sounding more wounded than the grin on his face suggested.

When Rowen bent and tugged his
hand free from a glove made out of metal, I rolled to my knees ready to pounce
if he had ill intentions against Flynn.

"It's okay my lady."
His eyes were a stormy blue set in a dreamy face that was somehow more real
than the rest of the plastic Fey who were like porcelain dolls of fakeness.
Flynn's eyes grew in size as Rowen's hand moved to touch his face. I scrambled
in, but Rowen said, "Trust me. I mean him no harm."

And the Fey couldn't lie? At
least I hoped. So I put faith in his simple words as his hand appeared to
suction against Flynn’s face. Green lines spread outward and down towards
Flynn’s neck to disappear underneath the breastplate of his armor. Flynn's eyes
rolled back in his head at the same time his mouth gapped open.

"What are you doing?" I
questioned.

"Yes, what are you
doing?" Another voice asked but somehow it came out differently. Where my
question was a jumble of words, the other put a lot of emphasis on the third
word.

Rowen yanked his hand back and
glanced over his shoulder. In a steady voice, he said, "Nothing my
queen."

He stood to face the stadium and
Madeline. I touched Flynn's other cheek and moved in to whisper in his ear.
"Are you okay?"

His eyes fluttered open. But when
I saw those frosty blues, he appeared better. So much so, he pulled me down to
pressed another kiss on my mouth before getting to his feet with an agility he
hadn't possessed moments before. What had Rowen done? What kind of Fey was he?

As I still sat kneeling on the
ground, Flynn raised a fist in the air. The crowd reacted with a roar getting
to their feet. I stood and looked on with awe. Rowen had lost, yet he seemed
the gracious loser. He stood off to the side and let Flynn have his moment. So
far, in the Fey realm, I hadn't found anyone that I trusted on sight. As much
as I wanted to trust Tristrom, there were still questions that surrounded him.

Yet, as I watched Rowen, I liked
him. And not because he was hot even though he was. I felt like we'd found a
true ally or at least someone we could truly trust.

The Queen stood dispassionately,
yards away. Although, it felt as though she were right next to me watching my
every move. I ducked my head and studied the ground. I didn't want her to get
the wrong idea about what I thought about Rowen. Too late, I felt Larrison
anger flow in my direction. I stepped into Flynn's shadow wanting some of
Larrison’s icy heat off of me. 

"And for your choice of
prizes."

I made a move to the side, just
enough so I could see what Flynn had the choice of. There standing in front of
the stadium was the silver-haired girl. She was alarmingly beautiful, and I
felt a burst of jealousy.

"Will it be Morgana or
Mercy?" Madeline asked in a voice that sounded as though she used a
megaphone.