In the Eye of the Beholder
Camille A. Grant
Nothing was as it seemed. At least, Briony hoped she was right and that was true because, if not, she and Twinx were totally screwed.
Barely breathing, Briony shifted slightly, away from the dozen spearpoints levelled at her throat. The gaunt barrow-wights holding them towered over her, empty eyes menacing. A bead of sweat dripped down Briony’s back, between her quavering, gossamer wings.
She stole a glance at her first mate, cowering on the floor amidst the wreckage of a massive, crystal chandelier, surrounded by another dozen wights. Twinx’s amethyst-colored arms were crossed over her head, protecting her long, pointed ears. Darker purple patches blotched her skin, blood showing where crystal shards had cut her. How Twinx had managed to smash the chandelier so spectacularly was beyond Briony. But, Twinx had a knack for that sort of thing.
Briony sighed. And the day had started off so well—sunny and calm, with the nicest sea breeze. If only Twinx hadn’t found that damn bottle; if only the pixie hadn’t broken the blasted thing and discovered the message inside, taking it upon herself to deliver it as penance.
Thuu-whuuunk.
“Ahhhh!”
Hearing Twinx’s cry, Briony whipped around. But it was only a barrow-wight dropping its spear. Of course, thwunk was an odd sound for a falling spear. And barrow-wights were notoriously not clumsy.
Watching the wight retrieve its weapon, Briony caught sight of it again—a flicker of blurriness—something not quite there but pretending to be.
“Āberan…” she whispered the Seelie command.
Before her, illusion warred with truth. Briony flapped her wings gently, and the illusion vanished, dissipating like smoke.
There were no barrow-wights. Standing before her, brandishing a filthy feather duster, was a pockmarked goblin, balanced precariously on the shoulders of another, larger goblin. Near her right elbow was another pair of mismatched stacked goblins, armed with a bedraggled mop. Across the chamber, Twinx, too, was only being “menaced” by a mere handful of goblins brandishing household implements.
Briony raised an eyebrow. The goblins, sensing something wrong, clutched at the air around them, as though hoping to recreate the illusion by happenstance. Rolling her eyes, Briony flexed her wings and took flight.
Realizing themselves exposed, the goblins started shouting in their own garbled language. Hearing the commotion, Twinx tentatively lowered her arms, daring a look as Briony landed beside her.
“Monty!?!” Briony shouted. “I recognize your shoddy illusion-work!”
With a sharp pop, a tall, slender Fae appeared out of thin air.
Twinx gasped. Briony frowned. Monty was, annoyingly, even more handsome than when last they’d met. His vest hugged his trim figure, revealing well-toned arms; his coppery hair looked lightly tousled, but Briony knew it had been styled carefully. And his mismatched eyes— one light, one dark—shone with secret mischief.
Monty’s jaw dropped. “Briony?”
“What in the thirteen hells are you playing at?” she snapped.
“Me? This is my kingdom. You’re trespassing.”
“You’re a goblin king now?” Briony scoffed. “That the best you could do after your father cast you out?”
Monty flashed her a charming smile, but she knew she’d struck a nerve.
“You know each other?” Twinx asked.
“Oh, we were betrothed once,” Monty drawled. “It’s a very romantic story—”
“If you call arranged political marriages romantic,” Briony growled, repressing the urge to punch Monty in the face.
“And who might you be?” Monty asked Twinx, oozing charm.
“I’m Twinx.” The pixie raised herself to all three foot two inches of her full height. “Captain Briony’s first mate.”
“Are you?” Monty’s obvious delight made Briony’s skin crawl. “The hat—of course. You’ve finally taken up your grandfather’s ridiculous crusade. The dread pirate… Malchi?”
“The gentleman pirate Gwalchmai,” Briony corrected.
“Where’s the rest of your crew?”
“What happened to the Unseelie Court?” Briony asked, refusing to give him the satisfaction of answering that particular question.
Monty’s brow furrowed.
“It used to be here,” Briony prompted.
“Oh, they moved. Didn’t want to be so close to goblin territory. They find them—” Monty glanced towards the goblins trying, rather haplessly, to tidy the broken chandelier, “—well, you know. Personally, I find them charming.”
Briony repressed an eye roll. “Do you know where they moved to?”
“You’re Seelie. You won’t get past the gate.”
“We have to try!” Twinx cried. “We’re on an epic quest!”
Briony could have kicked her.
“Oh?” Monty’s eyes narrowed, flashing mischievously.
* * *
It took the promise of half their expected reward to get Monty to agree to guide them. Which Briony only pretended to protest—giving Monty half of nothing wasn’t exactly a hardship. They were on a penance quest, not a pirate outing. The fact that Briony didn’t tell Monty—and that she conveniently stopped Twinx from doing so—didn’t give her conscience any qualms.
Still, passing through the labyrinthine stone tunnels of the Unseelie Court just after nightfall, flanked by true barrow-wights, Briony was more uneasy than she’d been in a long time. Ahead of her, Twinx’s long ears lay back almost flat against her head, a sure sign that she, too, was worried. Even Monty was uncharacteristically reserved, his mismatched eyes roving endlessly, every one of his muscles taut.
Eventually, they passed beneath a great marble archway, entering the central audience chamber. To say the room was garish was an understatement. The walls were hung with lavish tapestries, the floors tiled in dizzying gold patterns, the whole chamber crammed with treasure tables and display cases full to bursting—its sole purpose to flaunt the Unseelie’s unrivalled opulence.
“Montague? Finally come crawling to beg father’s forgiveness?” Maeve, high princess of the Unseelie Court, swept into the chamber dressed in crimson silk. “You.” Maeve’s grey eyes lit on Briony, flashing malevolently.
“I’m not here for myself,” Briony insisted, swallowing anxiously.
Twinx’s ears twitched as she tentatively stepped towards Maeve.
“What possible business can a pixie have with me?” Maeve’s voice dripped condescension. Briony had forgotten how much she hated Monty’s half-sister.
Twinx held out her hands, offering a small, intricately carved chest topped with a rolled parchment.
“This letter was sent to you, o, great princess, in an enchanted bottle, along with this gift.” Twinx lifted the chest higher, for emphasis. “But, in my carelessness, I broke the bottle, becoming honor bound to complete its quest.”
Looking bored, Maeve took the parchment. Unrolling it, she began to read.
“Briony?” Monty hissed.
“If I’d said, you wouldn’t have helped,” Briony hissed back.
Monty groaned.
“Kawataro is in love with me?” Maeve cackled cruelly, with no trace of actual mirth. The sound raised the hairs on the back of Briony’s neck.
“He sent you this token of his affection.” Swelling proudly, Twinx held the carved chest higher. Briony knew how much it meant to her—both the chest and its contents had been in her possession a whole day and she hadn’t broken either one.
Carelessly dropping the parchment, Maeve took the chest and opened it, lifting out a delicate necklace crafted of exquisite seashells. Shimmering with pearlescence, it was as beautiful as any ornamentation Briony had seen.
“Ugh.” Maeve tossed the necklace away. Hitting the ground, it shattered.
Letting out a strangled cry, Twinx darted forward, knocking into a table, sending several Unseelie “treasures” clattering across the floor. Briony lunched after her friend, knocking into another table, sending its contents flying as well.
“Menaces the both of you.” Maeve rolled her eyes.
Briony hurriedly replaced the fallen items, hoping to placate Maeve’s wrath.
“Montague, even for you, this is a low bar.” The Unseelie princess swept from the room without a backwards glance.
“Twinx?” Briony moved to the pixie’s side.
Twinx stared down at the ruined shell fragments. “That bottle was the only thing I ever broke that I thought I could make right…” She sniffled, rubbing her sleeve across her face.
Monty approached, kneeling down to Twinx’s level. He whirled his arms, muttering softly. The shattered fragments sprang into the air, knitting themselves back together until the necklace came to rest in his outstretched hands, entirely restored. He offered it to Twinx.
“It’s just an illusion, to make me feel better.” Twinx sniffled.
“Not this time,” Monty said, gently lifting the necklace over Twinx’s head, laying it around her neck.
Eyes wide, Twinx touched the shells. “I’m not worthy of something so… precious,” the pixie hiccoughed.
“You’re fat worthier than my sister was.”
Brushing away a tear, Twinx tentatively smiled.
* * *
Two hours later, Briony, Twinx, and Monty sat in the back corner of nearby tavern, drinking away their memories of the Unseelie Court.
Cliiinn—CRAAAASHHHHH!
“Oh no!” Twinx cried, disappearing under the table.
“It’s fine. It was empty,” Briony said.
Twinx reappeared, ears curling in embarrassment.
“Have you always been so prone to breaking things, my dear?” Monty asked, not unkindly.
Twinx’s ears twitched. “A hedgewitch cursed my mam…”
“Ugh, hedgewitches.” Monty rolled his eyes.
Twinx brightened. “Should I get another bottle?”
Monty nodded emphatically.
“Just maybe ask the barkeep to bring it over himself,” Briony suggested, winking.
Grinning, Twinx dashed to the bar.
Briony turned to Monty. “What are you up to?”
Monty chuckled. “I like her.”
Briony threw him a look.
“She reminds me of you when we were younger.”
Briony snorted.
“She still believes that all beings are essentially good at heart.”
Briony glanced at Twinx, chattering animatedly with the barkeep, already well on her way to making a new friend.
“I’m not sure I ever had that,” Monty mused. “But you did. I’m sorry you’ve lost it.”
“Says the man responsible.”
“Partly responsible.”
“Mostly.”
Monty shrugged, acquiescing.
“Though you’re not completely innocent yourself,” he challenged. Moving too quickly for her to react, he reached into her right hip pocket and withdrew a large hunk of rock.
“You found my whetstone. Very impressive.” Briony rolled her eyes, reaching for the rock. But Monty transferred it to his other hand, holding it just out of her reach. Briony’s breath hitched.
“Āberan,” Monty whispered, breaking her enchantment as she’d broken his. Sitting in his palm was a perfectly round jewel of a thousand colors, shining with starlight from within.
Grabbing him, Briony shoved his arm under the table, trying to hide the jewel worth more than a kingdom’s ransom. “I forgot you could do that.”
“My mother was a Seelie. Like you, I have their tricks,” Monty teased.
“How did you know?”
“Maeve might have been fooled, but I knew you were up to something when you bumped that table. Clumsiness isn’t your style.” Under the table, one of his fingers brushed against hers. Briony wasn’t sure if it was intentional. “You didn’t happen upon me by accident, did you? You needed me—to be your way in.”
There was an unspoken challenge in his eyes. Briony matched it with one of her own.
“I knew it!” He grinned wolfishly. “Pirates don’t do anything for nothing—not even the so called ‘gentlemen’ ones who steal from the rich to give to the poor.”
Knowing he was trying to get a rise out of her, she refused to take the bait.
“My family will come looking for this. It’s one of their most prized possessions,” he said, with more than a hint of warning. “Let me help you.”
“What’s in it for you?”
Monty shrugged. “Adventure? Glory?”
Briony rolled her eyes.
“Would you believe I want to help you?”
“Try again.”
Monty sighed, bravado dissipating. “You may loathe my family, but I loathe them more.”
***
Monty was right, of course. Maeve herself came looking for the jewel later that very night. But, upon entering that particular tavern, all she saw was a ragtag assortment of weary travelers, not a one worth her interest. Especially not the three goblins sitting in the back corner, surrounded by an uncommonly large number of broken liquor bottles. Maeve was certain that, even for goblins, those three were far from the brightest. She and her barrow-wight bodyguards left almost as soon as they’d come never suspecting, in that back tavern corner, nothing was as it seemed.
Camille A. Grant
Camille A. Grant is an aspiring novelist and long-time lover of all things fantasy fiction. Originally from Texas, she briefly pursued a career as an actor in New York before moving abroad to follow her passion for writing instead. She holds a joint MA in Literature and Creative Studies and a PhD in Creative Writing from Aberystwyth University in mid-Wales. Part of her heart still remains in that beautiful coastal town with castle ruins overlooking the sea and magic hanging in the air. But, currently, she resides in Los Angeles with her elderly gentleman of a cat named Noah.