Chapter Text
You should never make a deal with the Fae.
It was one of the first rules the children of the village learned. Never play near a spooked horse. Never touch the fire or the cooking pot. Never make a deal with the Fae. By the time Syn had been old enough to tie her own apron it had become a part of her. Just natural common sense.
There were addendum to the rule, as a child grew older and wandered farther from their mother's skirts. Don't follow will o' the wisps into the dark. If you hear the voice of a loved one coming from the woods make sure it's really them before you go to it. Don't touch the fairy stones or step inside the ring they make. Never tell a stranger your true name.
As Syn grew older, she began to understand that all the little rules were part on one large truth. That there were things out in the woods that wanted to hurt you, enslave you. As smart as you were, as clever as you spoke, you were never as clever as them. And if you weren't wary, you would easily become their prey.
Which was why it was so surprising when her father came home one cold winter night, pale and shaking and telling her he'd made a deal at the standing stones.
"Are you completely mad?" she asked once they'd sat at the kitchen table and her father had dug out his best bottle of whiskey.
"Something had to be done," he told her, drinking straight from the bottle.
"About what?"
He looked up at her. "The crops, the animals. We won't survive another winter like this one, you know that."
She sighed. The town had had a string of bad years. A blight had decimated the orchards of her father and his neighbors two springs past. And last summer a wolf pack had gone off with a good number of lambs and maimed twice as many adults before their hunters had managed to thin them out and scare them off. Poor weather on the sea this winter had sunk several merchant ships on the way to the capital. The town was losing money, several of the wealthier families were in debt, including her father. People were starting to say they were cursed, and not just the older, superstitious ones, but several of the more reasonable people as well.
He was right, another winter like this and they'd lose people to starvation and cold.
"I spoke to the other lords," her father told her. "It was the only thing we could think of. We drew straws and I was the one chosen to go."
Syn sat in the chair next to him at the table. "What did you bargain?" she asked quietly.
"I asked for a good harvest and healthy lambs. I asked for prosperity for the town." He took another swallow of whiskey. "He said he would see it done. Five years guaranteed, ample crops and fertile sheep."
"And after that?"
"He said that was not his concern. He would not harm us, nor would he help us. After five years we were on our own again."
She tried to find the loophole in that. But if the man - or whatever he was - had truly said he wouldn't harm them, then he would be bound by that. "And what was the price?"
He met her gaze briefly before looking back at his whiskey bottle. "I offered him gold, land. Sheep. A percentage of the town taxes."
Fear traced up her spine, tightening her skin. "What. Was the price?"
Her father took a deep breath. "He wanted a woman. A young woman to keep his house for him."
She reached over and yanked the whiskey from his hand. "And you agreed?"
"It was the only price he would accept," he said, spreading his hands. "I tried everything else. Everything!"
Syn took her own swig of whiskey, savoring the burn of it down her throat.
"We'll set up a lottery," her father was saying. "I'll speak to the lords. All the unmarried women. Put their names in a pot and draw one. It'll be fair."
"Don't be stupid," she said, voice hissing a little with the after effects of the whiskey. "I'll go."
"Syn. No. You can't just-"
"The bargainer pays the price." It was a rule as ingrained in her as deeply as the others he had broken this night. "You made the bargain. I'll go." He stared at her, looking miserable and she added, "If you held that lottery, do you really think any name but mine would be called?"
He bent his head, answer enough. She sighed and tried to gentle her tone. "When am I expected?"
"Summer's eve," he said softly. "So that we'll see the crops growing and know he held up his end."
They were still weeks away from Beltane, so she had some time. She'd have to tell Maeve the healer she was leaving, and help her find a new apprentice. She could say goodbye to her friends. Maybe sew a few new dresses to bring along.
She expected panic and anger and grief would hit her soon. She'd probably spend a day or two weeping, and a week hating her father. But right now she felt calm. It was well past time for her to leave her father's house and none of the men in the village appealed to her. Gift to the fae wasn't exactly her first choice for an alternative, but it was something. And it meant the town would prosper and no one would starve. It was a greater bride's price than most got.
Later, in bed staring at the ceiling, she reminded herself she wasn't to be a bride. The Gentleman had wanted someone to keep his house for him. At best she was to be a housekeeper or house manager. At worst some sort of slave.
For the record, that was when the tears started.
Her father told the lords of the deal the next day and reactions were mixed. Some feared there was some loophole or phrasing her father hadn't thought of that would come to haunt them. It was possible, but Syn thought it unlikely, based on what he'd told her. Others protested the price, even when assured she had volunteered to go. No one suggested another option or offered up their own daughter instead. Certainly no one wanted to go back on the bargain.
Word spread quickly and the looks of pity from the rest of the town started to grate on her. Maeve was upset, but resigned, and agreed to find another apprentice, lamenting only that she had been "almost done" with Syn.
Beltane came and none of the young men who usually flirted with her did so. It was a pity, she would have liked one more tumble in the grass before being sent off wherever it was she was going. But she was clearly seen as tainted goods now and the odds of finding a bed mate were small.
The day after the bonfire festival, spring began in force. The orchard trees were bursting with blooms and the crops seemed to have doubled overnight. Over the next few weeks the shepherds reported more and more ewes showing up pregnant and heavy enough to be carrying twins. The farmers proclaimed expecting harvests the like of which they'd never seen before.
No one said it aloud, of course, but the general feeling seemed to be that Syn was a small price to pay for such a spring.
By the time summer's eve had come, the farmers had already brought early harvests to the city, the bushels overflowing their carts. There were a lot of smiling faces around town as preparations were made for the summer festival.
Syn's father had locked himself in his study with his whiskey. She imagined he'd be there the rest of the night. They had said their goodbyes many times over the last few weeks. She had no more to give him. No sympathy for his grief, but no real anger towards him, either. He'd done what he thought best, had saved the town. She had no doubt he'd go in her place if he could.
She packed a small bag. Two new dresses, three old ones. Her good apron. Some books, her hairbrush and pins. A necklace and bracelet set that had been her mother's. A good pair of boots one of the famers had brought back from the city and refused payment for.
The festival was going strong long before the sun went down. Her father had been unclear about what time the Fae was expecting her, but twilight seemed as good a time as any to head out for the woods. The world always seemed soft and eerie then, with the light dimming and slanted.
When she paused outside her father's study she thought she heard him weeping and decided it was for the best to leave him be. The town would look after him. She paused again on the front stoop, taking in the view and the sounds of the festival taking place in the town square. It would the the last time she'd see her house and her garden. The last summer festival. Maybe her last twilight. She tried to memorize it all. The colors, the sounds. Even the smells of woodsmoke and lavender and the roses lining the garden walk.
Eventually, she forced herself to move, walking out of her yard to the road and turning right, away from the square, towards the woods.
The air seemed to grow cooler as she walked away from home but that was probably her own imagination, or at worst an effect of the setting sun and lengthening shadows. She met no one on the road. No group of townsfolk to see her off, no cluster of girls to thank her for taking their place. She found herself wondering if it was guilt or disinterest that kept them all away.
Perhaps someday there would be a legend of the beautiful girl sacrificed so the town could thrive. Girls in legends were always beautiful. And brave and clever and resourceful. Syn was most of those things. She wouldn't mind the upgrade, if it meant she was a legend.
The trees of the forest loomed before her and she found her steps slowing, uncertain. Wandering into the woods at this time of day felt wrong on every level, those old warnings and rules trying to call her back. But a bargain had already been struck and she was the price. It wasn't too late for the crops to whither and the ewes to die. So Syn straightened her shoulders and pretended she was one of the beautiful, brave heroines her mother used to tell her about and walked into the woods.
It took less time to find the fairy stones than she'd expected. She forced herself not pause, slipping between two of the plinths and walking to the center of the ring. Nothing happened immediately and she counted ten heartbeats before putting her bag down and sitting on the grass. When nothing continued to happen, she rummaged in her bag, pulled out a book and began to read.
Less than an hour later she had lost all her light and she gave up, tucking the book away again. She wondered how long she was expected to wait and if she was going to end up sleeping out here. Summer it might be, but the nights still had a chill to them and she much preferred having a roof overhead.
There was a soft sound off to her right, at the edge of the stones, and she peered into the darkness until a large black wolf detached from the shadows. Syn slowly got to her feet, watching the creature as it padded towards her. It got close enough to stretched its head out and sniff her hand. It sneezed and shook its head, then turned and walked back to the edge of the stones before turning back to look at her expectantly.
Oddly, it never occurred to her that it might be a normal wolf and certainly the glance back confirmed it. She bent and plucked up her bag, then followed the animals back into the trees. The deeper they got into the woods, the harder it was to make out the wolf among the real shadows and she hurried to keep up with it.
After a few minutes of walking, she noticed they were on a path of some sort, not beaten earth, but cobbled stone. Syn had never been this far into the woods, she was fairly certain no one had in many years. Certainly no one had been maintaining and clearing cobbles.
The path widened into a proper road and the trees thinned out so that moonlight lit her way. The wolf had taken a spot next to her, an oddly comforting warmth at her hip. They came around a turn and suddenly before her was a castle.
Once when Syn was a little girl, her aunt and mother had taken her to the city for a week. On the way home they'd gone off the road a bit to have a picnic and ended up in the ruins of an ancient castle. Syn had spent the afternoon running through the rubble, crawling up the crumbling stairs and pretending to be a princess. The castle that stood before her now made the one from her little girl imagination look like a small shack.
She had stopped in her tracks and the wolf carefully pressed on the back of her legs like of of the shepherd dogs trying to get a stubborn lamb to fall in line.
"He's in there, huh?" she asked aloud. She had resisted talking to the dog before now, a little bit afraid it would answer.
To her relief, it didn't speak, but leaned on her again.
She let him push her a few steps. "Are you coming with me?"
It fell in line next to her and gently closed its teeth around her hand, giving it a tug. Hoping that meant yes, she hitched her bag higher and walked up to the heavy, carved wooden door.
The door swung open when she reached it and she forced herself to keep going, right into the brightly lit entryway. Once she was clear of it, the door swung shut again with a decisive thunk.
Syn turned in a circle, taking in the foyer. The floor was marble, black and heavily veined, polished to a mirror shine. The walls were papered with a heavy green damask, threaded with gold geometric patterns. A staircase was on her right, curving up to a second floor shrouded in shadow. To the left and just in front of her were more doors, four in total. They were all tall, the lintels way above her head, and looked like they might be too heavy for her to move. Everything was lit by sconces lining the walls and a huge chandelier dangling above her head.
The wolf was still at her side and she was about to ask where she was supposed to go now when a voice came from the top of the stairs.
"He actually sent someone."
The tone was dry, sardonic bordering on bored. It had an unfamiliar accent, plummy and rich, sending a little shiver down her spine.
Syn looked up the long stair to see a pair of shiny black shoes descending. Above the shoes were perfectly pressed black slacks. The black motif continued to his jacket and shirt. A pale, long fingered hand ran lightly down the gleaming bannister.
She forced her gaze to his face. He was handsome, with an aristocratic nose and high, sharp cheek bones. His mouth was wide and generous, curled into a faint, mocking smile. His hair was too long for aristocratic fashion, slightly curling at the ends. His eyes were a bright, shocking blue.
She had expected him to be ethereally beautiful, the way the fae were in the stories. So attractive that those who looked at them were immediately bewitched, eager and enthusiastic slaves. She hadn't exactly wanted to be enchanted, but it might have made whatever was to happen next easier. But while he was perhaps the most attractive man she had ever met, he was not unearthly so.
"It's not a good idea to renege on a deal with the Fae," she replied, proud of how calm and steady her voice was.
His mouth twisted into something that wasn't quite a smile but something meaner and darker. "No. I suppose it isn't."
He had reached the bottom of the stairs and slowly walked towards her, his shiny shoes tapping against the shiny marble. He walked a circle around her, motions smooth and deadly, like a hunting cat. Syn forced herself to stand still, not turn to keep an eye on him. She followed his progress by the tap of his shoes. "So," he said when he'd reached her front again. "How did you end up in this unfortunate circumstance? Bad luck? Punishment for some heinous crime?"
"I'm the daughter of the man who came to you," she told him, meeting his gaze. "The bargainer pays the price."
His head tipped back and he seemed to consider her more thoughtfully. She wondered if she had surprised him somehow.
Without warning, he turned on his heel and started back up the stairs. About a third of the way up he waved a hand. "Come on. I'll show you your room."
The wolf didn't even have to nudge her. She hurried up the first dozen steps, until she was three or four behind him, and followed him to the second floor. Sconces lit as they passed, without him so much as waving a hand at them.
The second floor was as grand as the first, a long, wide hall way lined with doors on one side and paintings on another. The walls were the rich gleaming wood of the doors, making the portals blend in if not for the dark metal knobs. The floor was carpeted in dense green pile, so thick her boots sank in and left impressions that lasted a few seconds after she lifted her foot.
He lead her to the left and she tried to count the doors or memorize the paintings they passed so she had a hope to find her way back, but it seemed as if she'd missed a few doors, or that the paintings repeated themselves. The door he opened for her was indistinguishable from all the others. He stepped back and gestured for her to enter.
The room was huge, as large as the main room in her father's house. One wall was dedicated to a massive bed with an intricately carved head and foot board. Opposite the bed was a fireplace flanked by two doors. Directly before her was a window with a window seat she could likely lie flat on and sleep.
"This is to be my room," she asked in disbelief.
"You were hoping for a a dank cell?"
The sarcasm stung a bit because given the dearth of information she had about this deal, what else was she to expect?
So there might have been a touch of sarcasm in her own voice when she retorted, "You are far too generous, my lord."
He smirked. Smirked. Then he inclined his head regally and left her, closing the door behind him.