The unfamiliar, p.1
The Unfamiliar, page 1
THE UNFAMILIAR
By
Lilla Glass
Copyright © 2024 Lilla Glass
Edited by Tee Tate.
Cover Design by MiblArt.
All stock photos licensed appropriately.
Published in the United States by City Owl Press.
www.cityowlpress.com
For information on subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher at info@cityowlpress.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior consent and permission of the publisher.
Contents
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Author’s Note
The Unfamiliar
Prologue
1. The Smothering Shadows
2. Skin Deep
3. Healing Hurts
4. A Lofty View
5. Hollow Oaths
6. Phantom Pains
7. The Meaning in the Madness
8. Missing a Beat
9. Reflections
10. Deceptive Depths
11. One Precious Thing More
12. An Unstable Alliance
13. Lessons Learned
14. Equal Opposites
15. When Worlds Collide
16. Where the Heart Is
17. A Passing Phase
18. Give and Take
19. A Chrysalis Cracks
20. Sorrow like Sickness
21. Last Light
22. Sutures and Shears
23. The Dark Side of Dreaming
24. Strong Supports
25. Stretching the Seconds
26. Preparations
27. Tempting Fate
28. The Procession of Autumn
29. Anti-heroics
30. Hold Fast
31. End of an Era
32. Preludes and Codas
33. Sweet Sorrow
34. Rainfall
35. Ever a Thief
36. Another Option
Epilogue
Sneak Peek of The Other Side of the Mirror
Find Your Next Read
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Glossary of Fae
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Publisher
Additional Titles
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To anyone who feels lost,
few wonders have ever been found
by clinging to well-trodden paths.
Author’s Note
The legends speak of faerie reels—intricate blends of song and dance so entrancing that any mortal who overhears one will be enchanted until the end of their days, perhaps longer. I cannot claim this tale is nearly so captivating (though that is every author’s secret hope; we are tricksters, all), but I must warn you that, like most music, it could not have been composed without striking a few minor chords. Please consult the following list before the performance begins.
The Unfamiliar contains depictions of: violence, death, grief, childhood abuse and neglect, strong language and sexual references, alcohol and substance use, infidelity, and domestic assault.
The Unfamiliar
“Though faerie reels flow rhythmically, they’re challenging to learn,
Just when you think you’ve caught the beat, the tempo takes a turn.”
Prologue
The darkness reeked of blood and fetid flesh. Kaster inhaled it like rosemary perfume, desperate to remind himself he was not yet among the rotting. He no longer trusted the grit of the bars or the cruel laughter that keened beyond them. He doubted the drum of his pulse and the weight of his limbs.
Death was the one true reminder of life. It could not mock what it had already claimed.
Judging from his hollow stomach and the splintered remains of his fingernails, he’d been steeping in shadows for no less than three days, lulled to a stupor by the revels of his captors and the soft scrape of the vines that writhed around his cage. Enough rainwater had trickled through the tendrils to keep him breathing, but not enough to soothe his sandpaper tongue. The fruit the monsters left him had moldered untouched.
Others had been fed to the living walls in that time. Kaster had flinched at their screams, grieved at their prayers, commiserated with their curses. It had been a while since he’d heard so much as a cough, but they were surely still out there, tongues pinched between their teeth as they strained their ears for the cries of imprisoned loved ones.
Creator knows what Kaster would have given to hear Nella’s voice again, no matter the context. Sorrow was selfish in that respect.
Not for the first time, he considered shoving an arm through the bars and rooting around until a thorn found an artery. A terse slice in the right direction would bring his misery to an end. Before he could muster the will, a vine shifted, allowing a sliver of light into the darkness. Though sickly green and faint as an afterthought, it served as a vague reminder of the world beyond the wall. Echoes of summer strolls and moonlit dances lent him strength enough to swear. If there existed a concept crueler than hope, he’d yet to make its acquaintance.
Kaster braced for the vines to swallow the glow as they had countless times before. To his astonishment, the sliver grew to a gash, spilling sallow light and laughter. A legion of spidery hands stretched forward, grasped the bars, and jarred his cage from the shadows.
Incandescent lichens spattered the bramble hallway, limning the caprine horns and tapered ears of his captors with a ghastly pall. They were not the fair and noble fae-folk of Rhysien lore, but a feral mockery of the myths, nearly human from the waist up with coarse fur covering them from haunches to hooves. Scarlet sigils painted their bare skin—some glistening wet, others dry and flaking—and bits of bone, still flecked with flesh, had been braided into their hair.
More disturbing than the hunters were their trophies. The captives that hadn’t been caged now dangled from the walls like cattle carcasses, pierced through by sickle-sharp thorns. Some had been picked nearly to the bone; others, stripped of clothing and in many cases skin. A few still twitched and trembled, lips gaping around silent screams.
Bile burned Kaster’s throat as he scanned the bodies for a swatch of floral linen, a lock of sandy brown hair. A few familiar faces numbered among the broken, but Nella’s wasn’t one of them. Not that it mattered. If the creatures hadn’t yet killed her, it meant only that she was buried in a wall somewhere, waiting for her captors to return and…and…
Just what did they have planned for them, anyway?
Kaster probed the gloom as the monsters jostled him through the halls of their writhing fortress, finding only stray bones and heaps of offal. The corridor wound on for some time before a golden glow drowned the green, and the creatures hefted him into a massive hollow churning with their horrid kin. The throng parted to let them through, and several onlookers jabbed wooden pikes through the bars, cackling madly when Kaster danced to dodge them. The rest followed him with unsettling oval eyes.
A wide patch of earth had been left open at the crowd’s center, its russet clay marbled with a red far deeper, more damning. After dropping the cage unceremoniously to the mire, three pairs of hooves trotted off to join their peers. One creature lingered behind, its fingers and teeth stained crimson. “You should feel honored,” it said, sliding a key into the cage door. “Not many are afforded this opportunity.”
Kaster would take any opportunity offered him. The moment the lock clicked, he rammed the bars with his shoulder, knocking the bastard off balance. Rage propelled him from his confines, but days of disuse stiffened his limbs. He landed only a few strikes before several monsters rushed to intervene. In subduing Kaster, they nearly tore his arms from their sockets.
“Now, now. None of that.”
The voice was neither rich nor commanding, but it brought the brutes to heel. They shoved Kaster behind them and melted into the press, ears twitching toward a throne of thorns on the far side of the hollow. Upon it lounged another beast, elbow perched on a bramble armrest and a sharp cheekbone resting between their thumb and forefinger. The creature was neither male nor female, but a bizarrely beautiful blend of both, with burnished bronze horns that curled outward in chaotic spirals and a collar of autumn leaves draped over their torso. A long ebony spear rested across their lap, topped with a horned skull that matched their face for size and shape.
Kaster could only assume this was the beasts’ ruler. The fae monarchs of folklore were twice as regal if not half as entrancing, but thrones and scepters—however sylvan—spoke with a certain auspicious tone. Strange how a legend could prove so false and so true in the same stroke.
“It’s poor manners to damage a prop before the play begins.” The ruler clucked their tongue. “There are toys aplenty for you to break, and our trove grows greater with every moonrise. Let us not act as scavengers when the hunt has never been more blessed. And as for you…” Their keen ochre eyes flicked to Kaster, and a smile strained their rot-black lips. “Right idea. Wrong target.”
The crowd’s attention shifted as a second copper cage was carried into the hollow. Shadows rendered the captive a huddled silhouette until a monster jarred the door open and flung them into the clearing. Firelight spilled over sandy tresses, glinting off strands of copper and gold. Kaster’s heart plunged to his stomach.
Her cornflower dress was torn and tattered, the skin beneath it mottled plum, but when her sapphire eyes met his, all other hues faded. The same spark that had consumed him when they’d first locked eyes from across a Beltane bonfire sent Kaster sprinting forward, heels slipping on the mire. Nella met him halfway and twined her arms around his waist, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. He breathed in what little rosemary still clung to her skin, and for one second—one blissful, ignorant second—he was overcome with joy.
Then he heard the laughter.
It started as snickers, soft and serpentine, then spread through the hollow, swelling to a storm. Kaster went cold. Nella stumbled back. A pair of blackwood short-spears landed in the clay between them.
“Life is a resource reserved for only the strongest of a species.” The ruler’s voice carried over the clamor. “It is hoarded by violent hands, bought with the blood of the weak, short on supply, and ever in demand.” They leaned forward, fingers steepled beneath a wisp of a beard. “You both want it, and I am willing to offer it. To whichever of you proves most worthy.”
A stone formed in Kaster’s empty gut as he and Nella glanced down at the spears. Nella hesitated. Kaster did not.
The moment his fingers wrapped around blackwood, he barreled toward the crowd. He stood no chance of fighting his way to safety, but he could drag a few fae bastards to the grave with him.
The monsters scrambled back from his strikes before pressing in, sneering and shouting. A set of square teeth found his wrist. The spear tore free. Horns rammed his torso, sending him sprawling. Pain branched through his ribcage like lightning, and the landing stole what remained of his breath.
Each cough tasted of copper. Each gasp felt like shattered glass.
“Kaster!” A pair of trembling hands clasped one of his own. When he opened his eyes, Nella’s face danced above him in triplicate. “Can you sit up?”
It hurt like hell, but he managed it. The moment her faces melted back into one, he cupped it with his palm, forcing the bitter truth to his lips. “The fae can’t lie, right?” Each syllable sparked pain in his side. “If we play by their rules, then one of us…one of us can…”
Nella squared her shoulders. Her eyes were bloodshot from weeping, but there were no tears in them now. Tender though she could be, no one had ever mistaken her for weak. “They want a show,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare go easy on me.”
She tore away without another word. By the time Kaster rose and reclaimed his spear, she was armed and standing at the ready. She could easily have struck while he was down, but it wasn’t in her nature. This would be a fair fight. They owed each other that much.
Seconds ticked past in silence as Kaster bolstered his resolve, attempting to reimagine his closest friend as a foe. Nella’s trembling jaw set, a sure sign she was doing the same. Their reticence was met with impatient murmurs. Several monsters hurled taunts and curses into the makeshift arena. A few lobbed actual stones. If the horde didn’t get a spectacle, and soon, they would claim both combatants’ hearts as consolation.
Kaster gave a curt nod. Nella returned it, and they both rushed forward.
Their spears clashed like swords, sending tremors to Kaster’s elbows. He twisted his weapon but failed to disarm her. Her strike missed his neck by a hair’s breadth. Their every move was cautious and halting—a little too slow, a little too soft—and the result was more a dance than a battle, like the one they’d shared at their wedding feast. Nervous and giddy, they’d both tried to follow the other’s lead only to wind up tumbling to the grass. What a vision she’d been, all giggles and lace and white satin ribbons.
Kaster clung to that memory as his spear sliced across her shoulder. Blood wept from the wound, staining her sleeve an unforgiving crimson. The ache that blossomed in his chest was brighter than that of his broken rib. Nella’s startled cry set the rabble to cheering. She recovered quickly, flipped her spear, and rammed the butt into Kaster’s side. His vision burst with violent sparks that guttered into shadow.
The impact of his head against the ground startled him lucid as Nella crawled atop him, pinning him in place with her knee. For a disoriented moment, he thought she meant to kiss him. How many times had they tangled like this, clothed only in candlelight?
The crowd’s cruel heckles jarred him back to the present. He’d lost his weapon in the fall, but Nella’s was still clutched close to her chest. The victory was hers, if she’d only take it.
“I…I can’t,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. The pink swell beneath her lashes made her eyes shine that much brighter.
“It’s alright, love.” Kaster forced a feeble smile even as terror spread through his veins. “I’ve had two years more than you already, and you’ve made these last four the best they could be. Just make it quick. Please.”
Nella drew a shaky breath, whispering an apology as she raised her spear overhead. Kaster closed his eyes, picturing the life they might have built in a kinder world, the life they’d been planning over their morning porridge for years. Children, gardens, a little stucco cottage by the seaside. Resigning it all to dream, he let himself go lax.
He didn’t feel himself prying the stone from the clay. Didn’t fight its weight as his arm struck forward. But he felt her skull cave. Heard it crack like porcelain.
How heavy he became, as her weight rolled away. How empty. He should have been crying, cursing, condemning himself as another in a world of demons, but he lacked the strength for sorrow and the clarity for contrition. Cluttered as his mind was, it held room for only one coherent thought…
I won.
Promises of fresh air and sunlight drew him to his feet. He was careful not to look Nella’s way as he wiped her blood from his fingers, lest a twitch ruin the moment. He needed to believe it had been quick and painless. That she’d died believing he loved her more than himself.
The roar of the throng was distant, dull. An ashen pall had fallen over the hollow, but with every blink, a color returned. Warmth oozed from flickering torches. Clay squelched beneath his soles. Soon, he was lucid enough to catch the musings of the monsters.
“A spear to the gut would do the trick!”
“I say we stick him on the wall and watch him wriggle!”
“How many bones do you suppose we can snap before the screams stop?”
Panic hit Kaster like a flash flood, scouring away what remained of his daze. He turned pleading eyes to the bramble throne, where the ruler welcomed suggestions with enthusiastic waves. “B-but…but you have to let me go!” he shouted, rousing fire in his ribcage. “Your kind can’t lie! Y-you said I could live if…if I—”
“I never lie.” The ruler jabbed a finger his direction. “You’re breathing aren’t you? Blinking like a halfwit? I know for a fact your heart’s still pumping; I can hear its pathetic stutter from here. Just what do you believe you are owed, mortal?” They cocked their head, a smug grin slithering across their face. “I said I’d let you live. I never said how long.”
