Of Starlight and Shadows

Spring Court of Faery Over a month had passed since Ro had lost her soul, her very self. Yet, she had never felt more herself. More comfortable in her own skin, her new immortal skin. Skin that never aged, wrinkled, or died. And in this new, enduring skin, Ro had stopped being the fool. Stopped believing in fairy tales, happily-ever-afters, and love. Stopped believing immortals were gods who lived forever. Stopped believing humans were the lesser beasts, the kinder monsters. And Ro’s reborn self, wrapped in soulless skin, had learned a few important lessons. She had learned a soul blinded, made its owner weak and stupidly careless with its other half - the heart. She had learned love was more about lies. She had learned truth was closer to misery than it was to freedom. She had learned loyalty came at a price. She had learned friendship was an earned occupation. And most of all, Ro had learned living without a soul was essential if one was to survive ruling a fae kingdom. During her first week as the newest sovereign of the flowery Spring Court, Ro realized governing immortals was definitely no fairy tale. The court Eriu had forced upon Ro was nothing short of organized chaos. From the moment she had stepped foot into the fiefdom’s blossoming horizons, it had been anarchy. If it wasn’t water sprites causing tavern brawls over whose wings attracted the most suitors, then it was forest pixies trapping will-o-the-wisps in glass jars and using the tiny, delicate fae to light up their treetop homes. Or the mossy winged faeries, otherwise known as greenies, whose only occupation seemed to be consuming barrels of sweet wine and pulling pranks on unsuspecting gnomes merrily digging in their gardens. Or the nixies, the persuasive river sirens who called to fishermen on the human side of the veil, luring them into Spring only to feast on their flesh after days of bedsport. And if that wasn’t enough, Ro had to deal with selkies and mermaids fighting over oceanfront property lines. It was constant mayhem. It was exhausting. It was mind-numbing. It was immortal torture. With a bit of creative negotiating, Ro might have been able to handle most of the disorder running rampant in the court on her own, but the narcissistic fae beings who considered Ro a usurper to Spring’s throne, who believed Ro was nothing more than an unworthy half-blood made immortal by their spiteful queen, road blocked her every move. The fae of Spring didn’t want equity amongst their kind. Nor did they believe in order, transparency, or efficiency. And they especially despised accountability. Most fae ignored Ro’s attempt at democracy and went on with their pranking and fighting. While others flipped her off with their exquisitely painted middle fingers and sauntered casually away as if Ro had suggested nothing at all, a few of the more daring fae went as far as leaving Ro threatening gifts - a crown of iron spikes and a choke collar fashion out of daggers - in hopes she would simply run away or, at the very least, shut-up. Hate was too mild of a word to describe how these otherworldly beings looked upon their newest princess. Hostility, abhorrence, loathing, disgust were far better descriptors. And so the fae of Spring simply bided their everlasting time, waiting for the opportunity to plunge an iron stake through Ro’s heart. But Ro was not discouraged. Not yet. She knew exactly how stubborn the fae were, how absolutely vile and pigheaded and self-absorbed. And to survive this new level of hell, Ro was going to need to be just as vile, just as ruthless. The question was - could she? On the Winter Solstice, the night Ro had given her soul to Eriu, the Queen of Faery, her life had become the living definition of Murphy’s Law - anything that could go wrong did go wrong - and then some. That night, Ro had lost not only her mortal soul, but any power Ro possessed had also fled her new, immortal body. She had nothing, not a spark of magic or an inkling of power in which to save her mother from eternal banishment or her father from being deported to the Winter Court. Ro had nothing in which to fight the powerful fae queen, nothing to use against her own, bloody grandmother - absolutely nothing. Evidently, one human soul equaled one powerless, but immortal life. It had been a devastating lesson in fae politics because now, well now, Ro was simply soulless. Without a mother, a best friend, a horse, or a cat, Ro was nothing but the magicless, soulless, half-blooded princess of Spring who sucked at her job. If Eriu hadn’t forced Ash, the former commander of Autumn’s legions, and Quinci, Finbar’s elfin sister with an attitude, to be Ro’s sidekicks, ruling Spring would have been impossible. And it had been comically evident Eriu had ordered the two females to accompany Ro to her new court out of sheer, queenly resentment, knowing they both would resent each and every moment saddled to Ro and her court of chaos. While Ash had stood stoically in front of the queen and accepted her new duties as Commander of Spring’s army, the warrior’s fists had curled and her jaw had ticked, making it clear she was anything but pleased about leaving Kai and the Court of Autumn. Quinci, on the other hand, hadn’t been nearly as calm or as subtle when receiving her new commission. A split second after hearing of her deployment to the Spring Court, the she-elf had told Eriu to feck the hell off. The queen had smiled enchantingly all the while literally zipping up Quinci’s rather depraved mouth. But Ro quickly realized how fortunate she had been in acquiring the two immortals. Not only were they extremely skilled warriors, but they were also unstoppable, arrogant, and all-together badasses at getting fae to follow rules. Although most of the court still hadn’t warmed up to Ro or her leadership, they were no longer trying to sabotage her every decision - all thanks to Ash and Quinci. From their first meeting in the Autumn Court, Ro had liked Ash and her straightforward mannerisms, which favored less talking and more doing. And now, it would seem those same traits worked on Spring’s pretentious warriors as well. Since early winter, Ash had spent her days disciplining Spring’s military troops - most of which thought shooting a bow was mainly a sport for wagering drinking bets and wielding a spear had more to do with male genitalia than protecting Spring’s borders. What had these warriors been doing in Spring all this time? Drinking and shagging? The idea wasn’t so far-fetched. It certainly matched the description in the book Ro’s grandfather had given her at thirteen about the legendary race and their rather narcissistic tendencies. It had taken weeks to train Spring’s reluctant battalions of fae archers and spear infantry, but only a single day of one-on-one combat in the ring against their new commander for Ash to earn their respect. As for Quinci, the transition from a free-roaming elf to Ro’s underling hadn’t gone so well. Since the she-elf’s attitude resembled a deadly blade, cutting and dangerous, there weren’t many who were patient enough to handle the sharp-tongued immortal. When Ro had asked Quinci what she would like to be in charge of, the elf had answered plainly, “My own, fecking life.” Ro had only nodded, understanding the trap Eriu had led each of them into with her manipulating abuse of power. After a long week exploring Spring’s taverns and finding herself the center of one-too-many brawls, Quinci had decided her talents ran more towards solitary occupations - like hunting and border patrol. And since the elf knew a bit about herbs and healing, she also lent a hand in helping Spring’s two resident healers with the apothecary as well. In the end, it had been an ironic choice, for Quinci might be a warrior-elf, but she behaved more like a smart-assed witch.