How to Make a Sinner Sleep

61 | fear; one curved wing

There was a loud voice that Kaden couldn't hear or understand, but thought sounded annoying, even if he couldn't discern their tone. Shouting and yelling angrily, Kaden clicked his tongue, rousing his escaping mind.

The pair of pale green eyes cracked open a sliver, dazed.

Somebody was standing there—not the illusionary fairy, but a person, solid and real. Hands fisted into the flowing cloth, they yanked the fairy away without holding back.

Kaden staggered, but refused to fall to the ground.

To admit to weakness before an enemy and a stranger would be foolish. Collapsing could mean death. He couldn't die yet. He couldn't.

The human—Kaden assumed to be—hurried over, a hat far too large sitting sideways on their head, a pair of familiar eyes set in an unfamiliar face. Rounded in surprise, worry filling their gaze.

"What's wrong with you?" hissed the man. "It's common knowledge to fight back! A faerie can't have that much claim over you, even if it's that sort of faerie unless you let them!"

They scolded him until they were breathless, panting.

Kaden's vision finally cleared, and he jerked away from their hold. The corners of his lips dipped into a suspicious scowl. "Who are you to tell me so?"

The man straightened, dressed in a suit that resembled a magician's wear, hair combed back and conflict sewn across their face. A second later, they smoothened out their emotions and relaxed.

It happened so naturally, Kaden almost wondered if he'd imagined the worry, the evident concern. And perhaps he did, with his delusions always surrounding.

One day, would he stop knowing whether something was real or fake?

The man stretched his arms wide, a playful tilt to his lips. "See, it wouldn't do any good for my reputation if a person I welcomed to my meetings died so easily. I'm rather fond of you all, and you're rather necessary for my gossip-seeking ears."

Kaden swept the bead of blood that trickled down his neck, distantly looking at the red smear on his fingertips. "Sir Organizer," he drawled, voice hoarse. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

'Why are you here?' was the question unasked.

"I am here and there, and nowhere, and everywhere. I am wherever I wish to be, and I am whoever I wish to become." The man tipped his hat. "Do you owe me a favour now, considering I saved your life?"

"I'll grant the world a favour by reaping your life."

"Ah, I'm pained by your cruelty."

"What are you doing here?"

The man's lip quirked. "I'd assumed that was a question you weren't going to ask."

Kaden lifted his chin, eyes narrowed into slits. "And I'd assumed that it was a question you'd answer, whether I asked it or not. I don't need your vague nonsense."

Then, recalling the faerie, he spun around. There, sitting cross-legged and cheerfully braiding their long hair into delicate, careful braids, smiled the illusion. Noticing Kaden's stare, their smile widened.

"I apologize," their voice sang, a violent jingle in his ears. "I was a little hungry."

The Organizer nodded in understanding. "No worries, we all become beasts when hungry. Nothing to apologize for, only a fool would allow himself to be so defenseless."

The faerie sighed, resting their cheek against their palm. "Indeed, it startled me. Who can resist a prey that doesn't run away?"

"Precisely. Therefore, even if you'd eaten him, you needn't apologize. A fairy as ethereal as you should never feel sorry."