Chapter 3 : Oh Captain, My Captain
If you turn right down the women’s bath, open the secret passage the servants sometimes used for midnight rendezvous, make a sharp left before the corridor ends, and lift the edge of the painting, you can get to Captain Mal’s quarters in an instant.
Of course, this was only a secret me and Mal knew.
“Elle?” Mal still had his leathers on, plate mail wasted on him thanks to his predisposed need for transformation. The leather was the blackened skin of a doppelganger, a corrupted variant of homunculus that had succeeded in killing and consuming its magically-inclined sire, and so it had all the abilities to shrink and grow with its owner. I remember when Mal had been given the armor straight from King Tiberius’s hand, he’d never been so proud. “What in the Void—”
I’d already overused my wings today, and tomorrow I’d regret it, but I didn’t care. I needed him now, to feel the security, the comfort, that only Mal—sweet, silly, rough-around-the-edges Mal—could give me. I half-flew, half-threw myself the rest of the way to him, burying my face into his middle, and finally let go.
It was quiet in the dead-end of the captain’s quarters. Most of the guardsmen were gone, either to the encampment outside of last-minute practice or off to clamor outside Knight-Commander Shepard’s office to see what marks they’d gotten during the recital.
It was all anyone was talking about, soldier or not, and so that left Mal’s edge of the world desolate save for us. I was thankful, if there was ever a time I didn’t need to be the center of attention, to be the much gawked-at mongrel Doxy Girl, it was now.
“What happened, Elle? Did someone say something to you?” Mal’s claws raked through my hair to scratch around my scalp as I sobbed, gentle as a lamb. “It must have been something awful to make you so—Shit!” His hold on me tightened, a low growl making his chest vibrate against my cheek. “It was His Royal Highness again, wasn’t it?”
“The man’s a cunt!” Anger waged absolute war with the fissure of hurt in my breast, making my words stick together in mangled barbs that tore at my throat. I gripped where his hatchets rested on his lithe hips, tightening to knuckle-white so I’d have something else to focus on. Pain to stem the childish tears. “An absolute ass!”
“Easy, now, Ellie. He’s still our prince...even if he is a prat…” Mal flicked my ear playfully, nowhere near the sensitive tip, but hard enough that I glared at him. He smiled, a snaggletooth grimace, one canine always poked out past his lips thanks to permanent transformation. “There we are! There’s my little shit starter! My fuckin’ rabble-rouser! My classless little Bramble-Berry!”
I snapped my teeth at him, careful not to break the skin, as the lanky bastard roped me into a noogie. I twisted against his noose of a forearm, laughing away the hurt. Mal’s brand of medicine was always better than my go-to, it’s why I’d always come back to him. His scarred knuckles were merciless, however, as I kicked my feet and yanked, trying to find purchase in his embrace.
Foolishly, perhaps.
Mal was the average height of a human man, and average on par with most Fae as well, but being doxy-borne made me just shy of under five feet by a quarter of a foot. This also meant that the height discrepancy between us made me keenly aware of where the small of my back was cupping as the brute leaned over me to noogie me more.
The gesture may have been friendly and boarded on brotherly love, contrary to what the Prince or the Court whispered, but my mind kept going down filthy avenues. He wasn’t hard, not by a mile. Mal wasn’t a human man who’d get excited by the prospect of nudity. He wouldn’t last long in the Faewild if he did…
Mal was just… well-endowed. Blushingly so.
Which made his innocent little request all the filthier as he husked, “Wanna finish this inside?”
I want to lie and say it was the aftershocks of being wrapped up in Prince Regulus’ glamour for so long. The bonny Prince’s unique brand of magic had taken a similar root to his Aunt Mab, the Great Lady of the Night Hunt, and was based on the dark art of seduction. Or obsession, if he was feeling particularly spiteful. But…
I couldn’t tell a lie. Lately, I’d begun to see Mal in another light, one that had nothing to do with friendly rivalry or guardsman comradery. Despite what others of the Court said behind his back, Mal was an attractive man…if by human standards. Unlike me, however, he was popular despite his human form, as there wasn’t a Fae around who didn’t want to seat themselves upon the knotted cock of a Hound of the Wild Hunt.
“Perhaps I could finish my bath first.” I squeezed him, and keenly missed the warmth of Mal’s body when he released me with a laugh. Self-consciousness nipped at my heels, my wings giving a buzzing flutter, as I smoothed back the mess of my dark hair. “Do you still have those—”
“—cookies you’re infatuated with?” Mal barked, lopsided smile lupine. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, love, go wash yer ass fresh from whatever shit you rolled in, and I’ll make you a piping cup and a plate of them Sandies.”
“So what’s with you and the shit—I mean, Prince?” My lips curved as I gulped down some more poppy tea, feeling the relaxing heat of the draught warming me from my lips to my toes. I gently set aside the chipped teacup, snatching another warm Sandie to pop in my mouth. Caramel, toffee, and nutmeg-cinnamon shortbread—sinful enough that it made my bare toes curl. “What’s he got on you?”
“Nothing,” Mal hummed into the sugar-laden tragedy he called tea, thick brows betraying his nonchalance. I tossed a cookie at his fat head. “It’s true! The little bastard has had it out for me since day one!”
“You mean when he cut off your pigtails…” I tapped my fingers along the rough chip in my cup, giving my hands something to do other than ghost through locks that weren’t there. “When you humiliated him in front of his father…”
I hadn’t even meant to best him in fencing that day!
I’d been bored, Shepard—Well, she’d been obscenely overprotective of me as a girl once the healers found me lacking in magic, and swore me from any rough-housing (even with Mal once he learned to shift).
Lacking a proper nursemaid forced her to lump me in with the waiting maids as they attended Prince Regulus with his lessons. The royal dick had been in a sour mood since breakfast with his cousins in the Light Court and had demanded the maids keep him plied with sweet cakes to satisfy him, as the mashed rushed off to tidy up the training grounds to house his little catering table.
And, like always, Prince Regulus had begun to take it out his frustrations on the squires in the form of sparring.
Unfairly so.
Not one of the squires had all the magical skills a full-blooded Sidhe had, and a royal at that! I remember Regulus laughing, the cruel chitter of a remorseless brat, as he tossed around a goblin boy in the air with his telepathy. He hadn’t known sigils yet—hadn’t made a covenant with the Flame—so all Prince Regulus had were his innate gifts. It was easier and far safer to deny him his pleasures then.
I’d rammed into his back, hard, using the strength of my wings to knock Prince Regulus shined boots over ass. With his concentration broken, one of the boblin boys had dropped back to the ground, and Regulus had set his sights on me. He’d ordered me to pick up the sword if I dared.
And I did.
The fight was over quickly, the prince—like everyone else—had underestimated me, the stupid little doxy girl. But, I couldn’t blame Regulus. Why would he of all people be privy to the years of secret training I begged out of Mal growing up? For my winnings, I’d earned the eye of Shepard who’d seen most of the battle after the squires had fled the room to get adult help.
I’d also earned the Prince’s eternal ire when his father, the King, had followed Shepard fearing the worst and watched his heir get the stuffing knocked out of him with a wooden sword. It was to his father’s booming laughs that the Prince struck his revenge, and cut off my braids with that dagger of his that his uncle had gifted him.
After all, if I had wanted to play soldier so much, what use did I have for long flowing hair?
Fuck, my blood boiled just thinking about it!
“He deserved it!” I poured more tea and added a shot of nightshade whiskey on top of it, wings all a flutter as I worked.
I’d been a laughing stock for a week with that unseemly page cut, the bangs too short. I looked like a dunce! I hadn’t even tried growing it out again, in fear of the bastard doing worse! After that, by order of the King himself, Regulus and I were to be confidants. What better way for the future king to know of his people than by keeping a girl roughly his age a companion? The audacity!
“Ruck didn’t even come back to his apprenticeship. He’d just returned to Goblin Hollow and went back to being a goldsmith. I heard he’s married now with a daughter, so I suppose he’s fine…But still!”
“Aren’t you drinking a bit much, Ellie?” But that didn’t stop him from snagging the whiskey and pressing the neck to his lips as he propped his feet upon the table like a savage! “You know the Prince will still be here come tonight and tomorrow! And the next day after that, and the next day after that, and the—”
“Don’t remind me, unless you want me to finish the bottle,” I said darkly past a mouthful of the bitter drink. “Oh! That reminds me! Here—” I placed down the coin I’d wrestled out of Thibaut this afternoon. “—It’s not the whole amount, but it’s enough to buy—”
“Stop.” Mal held up a palm, swinging leather-clad legs to the floor. “Ellie, I am not taking your money—”
“But you like her,” I insisted, grabbing his palm and placing the small purse in it. “Mal, don’t you want to settle down? Have a family? Live a good life?”
“You think Golnesa would have me? Have you seen her?” Briefly, the dryad appeared in my mind’s eye, lyre in hand as she played in one of Everwood’s many meadows. “You think she’d want anything to do with a flea-bitten dog? One that has a human half?”
“Mal—”
“No, I’m as much an outcast as you, Ellie. Just because we fuck, doesn’t mean if I ask for her hand, she’ll give it.” His next pull from the bottle was longer—bitter—before he wiped his mouth with his forearm.
“Besides, where does that leave you? Alone on the front lines? No one to watch your back? Do you have a death wish, Ellie?” He rolled his eyes, but his words made my heart stutter hopefully. “No, we’re in this together. Me and you. You and I. So, stop trying to get me to retire! In fact, you should be telling Ma this! You know she’s old as dirt and twice as—”
“Why, what lovely children I’ve raised.” Knight-Commander Zahara Shepard, in full regalia always, stood at the door in picture-perfect parade rest. Her red cloak was cast to one side to make room for her helmet that rested under her thickly muscled arm. “Please, by all means, do not stop on my account!”
“Commander Shepard!”
“Ma!” Mal lept from his chair, knocking over the table, tea set, cups, creamer, and sugar bowls all in one go. Most of it crashed to the floor in a sticky mess except the whiskey which was still in Mal’s grip. Which Commander Shepard was looking at with an amused smirk. Mal blanched, trying to slick back his raven hair, and tuck his tunic back into his trousers. The bottle he hid behind his back. “I mean—Knight-Commander! How may we assist?”
“Well for starters, Captain,” Commander Shepard breezed into the room without so much at a glance at the chaotic nature of her son’s room, “you might want to control your ears.”
Mal’s hands shot up to cup over the rough triangles of wolf ears that had popped out with his anxiety. I giggled, hiding it in a cough, which unfortunately brought the Commander’s gaze to me.
Suddenly I didn’t feel so smart in one of Mal’s oversized spare tunics I had belted to make a semi-permissible dress. “Why that’s an interesting form of attire, Knight…have I interrupted something?”
“No, ma’am!” I saluted, praying that the belt held and I wouldn’t pop out the front of the shirt. “There has been no intimate fraternizing.”
“I meant the drinking, Ellie…”
“Oh.” The shame, I could never undo the shame I felt. This would stay with me forever. “…th-then, no ma’am…”
“At ease, children,” Shepard soothed, plucking the bottle from Mal’s hand. “And get tidied up. I’ve completed the draws to see who will compete in The Quartering to become the next King’s Guard.”