?All those jewels, love poems.. that one gift of a changeling, which was rather awful...?
-The Empress speaking to Ishmerai, 21 April 2014

Her eyes snapped open. The woods of Faerie dissipated around her, fading into the walls of her room in the Dockside baronial manor. Jewell reached towards the other side of the bed, seeking comfort but finding only cool sheets. She groaned, rolling onto her back. Her left arm ached no matter how she moved. It hadn?t stopped spasming since earlier this evening. Even when she had been standing around the clinic, pacing the floor, the muscle seizures kept hitting her unexpectedly. They did so now, forcing her to curl her fingers into a fist and stretch them out again to force the muscles to relax.

Jewell pushed herself up on her right elbow, swinging her bare legs over the side of the bed as she sat up. Her blue hair clung to the back of her neck and forehead, slick with sweat. ?I need a bath,? she mumbled to herself, trying to roll her shoulders carefully to break up the knots there. Baths weren?t as enjoyable as they used to be before but at least the warm water should loosen some of the tension and wash the dream away from her. It clung to her like a foul order.

A string of curses erupted as she stood up and immediately tripped over her discarded high heels. She stumbled across the room, awkwardly bending over to rub her poor stubbed toes. When the mage lighting flickered on in the bathroom, she cringed back, covering her eyes momentarily with her hand.

She had fallen asleep fully dressed, practically collapsing onto the bed when she got back from the clinic. Now, the polka-dot romper, wrinkled from restless sleep and distressful dreams, was discarded on the floor. Goosebumps cropped up over her bare skin while she waited for the bath to fill. The water was as hot as she could get it, filling the room with steam and obscuring her face in the mirror. It hurt when she stepped into the tub, the water scalding her skin.

She needed the pain. Invited it. Only the pain could wash her clean.

?Do you think I can ever wash my hands clean of the things I have done?? She sat at the kitchen island, a bottle of wine in front of her.

It was a conversation not often repeated between them. ?Surely you have done enough good to have struck a balance.?

?What about washing clean my mind? My conscience??

?I did not realize you had one,? he joked carefully with her, stepping into the room to take a seat caddy corner to her. She looked so miserable when she finally looked up at him; in truth, Jewell really just needed to lift her head enough to empty her current glass of wine. ?What horrible deeds are you to be punished for this evening??

?Every time I close my eyes,? she slid her fingers down her face, forcing her eyes shut, ?I see them.? They blinked open rapidly. ?They?re there in the rings during the festival, fighting each other.. animals. They are holding torches in the moonless night to light our way, enchanted arms held rigidly above them. They are there with their empty eyes, serving drinks at every party, every dinner. Hunted down on steeds, dogs nipping at their heels. Children kept as pets. Adults as lovers.?

The knight?s brow creased as he tried to follow her rambling to its end. ?Are you speaking about humans??

?Yes humans,? she replied impatiently. ?The mortal victims of our world. And who is to stop us from what we do? Hmm??

?Mira, you were never party to those things unless??

?Does it really matter, Ishmerai? Does it? Those who do not attempt to stop the crimes they see are just as guilty.?

She hadn?t thought about the young man from the hunt in a long time.

She had wanted to drag him to safety. But what safety existed in Faerie? The safety of the hounds who tore out of the treeline and circled around them, barking savagely. The safety of those on The Hunt who came riding up on their horses, their beautiful faces etched with amusement.

In the end, he chose a more sure safety than her flimsy protection: death.

Her head rested against the bath pillow while she slid down as far into the water as she could. Jewell closed her eyes, and she could see him standing there as if it was yesterday. She could see the fear in his eyes, the desperation.

She could see the others too. All of those trapped in Faerie, some even bewitched by her own hand. She tried her best to forget them, but every once and awhile something dragged them all back to the surface again.

Tonight, it had been Bailey.

Only everything went wrong when he got there.

She was sitting on one of the bar stools, doodling in a little notebook. She was supposed to be crunching numbers for Beyond the Veil, but nerves had gotten the better of her. She had been flattered by Bailey's letter, but there was still the underlying suspicion she couldn't wholly banish. Not when everyone else who reeked of Faerie wanted to kill her.

Jewell still bore the marks of the savage wolf attack as a reminder that Faeries and Fae could not be trusted.

When Bailey entered the social area of The Royal Rabble Club, she was busy drawing little hearts and flowers. She turned her head when she heard him, closing the notebook with her right hand and standing. She smiled his way, fiddling with the strap of the left arm sling she was still sporting. "Hey Bailey." When nervous, banish the awkwardness with lots of words. "You fought really well the other night. Not sure if I mentioned that."

He moved further into the bar, twisting his way around tall chairs and circular tables, until he was closer to Jewell. "M-maybe? Those events are always so busy, I feel like I never know who I have spoken to or what I have said once the evening has concluded."

She watched his progress towards her, keeping her body language casual and relaxed but her eyes narrowed just a touch. His nervous and skittish behavior, which most seemed to find endearing, set her on edge. "Oh yeah," she laughed. "It's like a crazy blur. Bit of a high. Well, if I didn't say it, you really did do a nice job. I also appreciated your letter."

There was a reason she had done well in the Faerie courts: she could lie through such a pretty smile. "And it was just great having you with the Club this season."

"Thank you." He fluffed his hair some, an unnecessary gesture designed to give him something to do with his hands. "I did promise you a token of my esteem, did I not? A gift, in other words?" It wasn't immediately obvious where such a gift might be coming from, since he held nothing in his hands. Perhaps it was somewhere in his coat?

"You did!" Flattery and the promise of a present was an easy way to disarm the Faerie. She attempted some false modesty, "That really isn't necessary, of course. I mean.. Eva was your captain and all." Her grey eyes were a bit wide and eager though. Maybe she had it wrong all season. Bailey wasn't out to get her! He was in love with her. Of course, this was entirely understandable and even softened her smile.

"You need to close your eyes though. Or else you will ruin the surprise."

She worked on her lower lip with her teeth before doing that thing kids do: closing her eyes while still trying to look through her fluttering lashes.

Bailey did not reach for his coat, no, not right away. Instead, he was muttering under his breath. "I can do this, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this."

Her lips twisted into an amused grin as he seemed to be giving himself a pep talk. Poor boy was really gone on her! Jewell could see him through lowered lashes, drawing closer to her as his hand finally reached into his jacket, pulling something free from inside. Quick and clean and nearly whisper quiet.

Her eyes snapped open when he freed her ?present?. Goosebumps cropped up all over her skin at the nearness of cold iron, even though it was still hidden by his jacket. His head cocked fractionally in the direction of the stairs to seek out the source of some noise downstairs, instinctively. In that slim moment when Bailey's attention was split, Jewell was upon him, grabbing for his arm with her only free hand. "What are you doing?" she shrieked.

Instead of pressing the advantage as she would have done and using that deadly iron against her, he surprised her with his unexpected action: he fled. He shoved her square in the chest with his left hand, dropped the weapon in his right, and spun around to run for the exit. "Oomph!" Jewell was still off-balance given her busted arm, so she stumbled back when he shoved her.

Unfortunately, he found himself running smack into one of the high-backed chairs at the table. He doubled over, staggered by the impact. Dueling in high heels had its advantages, namely that Jewell was able to regain her balance and charge after him. It didn't matter that he had dropped the weapon or that she could aggravate her injury, she tackled him just as he regained his balance.

They both went down, knocking some chairs over in the process. Her right arm swung out again and again to punch at any part of him she could get at, and he took her first punch square in the nose.

He turtled up, trying to cover his head with his arms as blood began pouring out like a fountain. The fact that he didn't fight back didn't deter her at all. She awkwardly pushed herself up so she was basically straddling him, wailing away at him one-handed and shouting. "How dare you? Who the hell do you think you are? I gave you a chance!" And then over and over again: "Who sent you? Who sent you? Who sent you!?"

"I don't know your family, Jewell. But...you should take a closer look at it. The glamour. Does it seem like any Faerie glamour you have ever encountered?" It likely didn't. The baseline magic, the way it obscured his true appearance, was there, but it was not nearly as strong as Fae glamour, and there was something...warped, almost melted, about the aura that surrounded him. It was as if some other force had beaten it and forced it into whatever shape it had wanted, and damaged it permanently. "And besides...have you ever known a Faerie who could hold cold iron?"

Mason looked down at the knife in his hand then towards Jewell.

"I know you're not a Faerie," she snapped hastily. "You would have killed yourself carrying around that stupid knife and sword of yours." Her fingers, stained with Bailey's blood, fiddled with a loose thread of the arm sling as she looked away from him. "I think I know what you are," she added more quietly. She hadn't encountered many of his kind.. not outside of Faerie. And within Faerie, it was different.

She shook her head. She didn?t want to think about that! Her eyes narrowed at him. "Which would make you a perfect assassin from my family! They loooooove sending others to do their dirty work, don't they? Without me around, they just found some little human to twist and do it for them. That's what you are, right? Or were?"

He attempted to stand. "Mason, have you ever heard the stories about children spirited away from their cribs by evil spirits? Or folks who go on walks during the full moon, or during extremely foggy nights, and never return to their homes?"

She didn't interrupt as he spoke to Mason instead. The talk of children stolen from their beds by evil spirits drained all the color from her face. Jewell turned half away from him, foot tapping on the floor as she stared up at the ceiling. She took a few deep breaths in through her nose, trying to steady her suddenly racing heart.

Mason nodded. "Sure, fairy tales."

"True tales." She corrected Mason quietly.

His look cut to Jewell and slowly turned back to Bailey. "You're a stolen one?"

She glanced aside at Bailey too before quickly looking back up at the ceiling.

There was uncharacteristic venom in his voice, even through the wheezing of his ruined nose and his usual high-pitched tone. "Yes. Her kind did that to me." He pointed, and then quickly turned the finger away. He shrunk into himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "Before I could even really remember. There are a number of us here in the city, hiding in the shadows...I would guess no more than one or two hundred. They do not seem to like the fact that I returned to the city, and did not immediately come to visit them in the Courts. They seem to think I am a turncoat, a traitor who would sell them all out to Them. I was given a choice -- take a bullet in the head from them, or kill you."

She smiled when she looked back at him. It hid the shame nicely. And the panic. There was that too. Just how many people wanted her dead? "Should have gone for the bullet. It would have been quicker," she quipped rather cruelly. There wasn't much spite or energy behind the words though. Jewell sounded tired.

"Come away, O human child. To the waters and the wild. With a faery, hand in hand, for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand." Mason spoke the lines quietly. Almost to himself as he heard the story unfold. "And who is this Court that thinks they can command you to do this? "

"I-I do not want to die." The words came out raspy, and he immediately turned his gaze at the floor so that neither of them could see him start to cry again. It seemed a Herculean feat to him to lift his head and face Mason, eyes already turning puffy to match the bruises spreading across his cheeks and jaw. "They have changed in the years since I left this city. It used to be...what is the word I am looking for? Joining them was voluntary -- they provided protection, guidance, education, information, assistance to those of us in the community, but they did not demand we join. It would appear, now, that those who do not join are made examples of. They have spies! They have been watching me for months now, before they told me to do this and then afterwards, tracking my progress. That bullet is coming for my head."

There was a long pause, as he tried to compose himself and steeled himself to face his fear head on. "I did not want to kill you, Jewell. I just...want to be left alone by Them. I know it means nothing, but I am sorry."

She sighed a bit impatiently as he started to cry again, but she could only keep up the tough girl act for so long. "Yeah yeah.. you and me both, kid. Life would be much easier without Them."

"Cool!" Mason moved behind the bar and got a damp towel for Bailey. He tossed it over to him as he came around the bar. "So how are you going to protect him Jewel?" He said it as if it was the only logical path to be taken.

"WHAT!?" it was rather high-pitched and squeaky. "Protect him? What about me? You heard him! Now there's probably an extra 200 people out for my head on top of you don't even know who." The protest was more whiny than angry.

"You're the Empress." He moved closer to Jewell.

"It's just a stupid title Tara gave me," she objected lamely.

"It's your duty. You know it is. I'm not saying you personally took him or anyone??