To Owe a Favor

Our eyes are locked together. My mouth gapes open in shock and fear, meanwhile the Warrior Fae has a deceitfully calm look on his face.

“I’m sorry!” I blurt out in their native language, trying to play the innocent card.

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” His words are guttural.

My mouth is too dry to answer as he uses his sheer height to tower over me. I try to take a step back but he grabs my waist and holds me to my spot.

“I think you are going to owe me a favor, human,” he raises his eyebrow in challenge.

I raise my arms and push at his chest, “Let me go. I don’t owe you any favor, you deserved a tea cup to the head. I thought it would knock some sense into you.” There goes my mouth again.

He chuckles deeply, “What happened to feeling sorry for me?” I glare at him while he squeezes my waist with his hands before letting me go, “There’s one of two ways this can go, human. One; you owe me a favor that I can redeem at any time or place. Or two; the High King can deal with you himself since you have attacked his Royal Warrior.”

“I didn’t attack-”

“Yes. You did, human,” he takes a step back, continuing to stare at me, “So what will it be?”

I stare at the floor for a moment. The floors are polished and allow me to see my reflection. Owing a favor to the Fae could result in any sort of punishment, payment, or humiliation. But, offending the High King and facing his wrath could be worse.

I sigh, “I’ll owe you.”

The Royal Warrior tilts my chin up with the tips of his fingers, teasing me, “What was that?”

“I said,” I take a pause so my voice won’t raise, “I will owe you a favor.”

“Your choice,” he grabs below my jaw quickly with his thumb and forefinger at the base. The palm of his hand placed directly on my throat.

The mark of a favor creates a burning sensation. After being marked by the Fae, the tattoo-like pattern won’t be removed until after I complete the favor.

Despite the uncomfortable position I grab his forearm with my own hand and dig my short fingernails into his arm. Hoping to cause him as much pain as I can feel right now.

The Royal Warrior lets me go slowly, our eyes locked in a battle for dominance.

“You couldn’t have placed the mark on my wrist or something,” I spit my words out as I rub my throat gently to soothe the pain.

“I could have. But that wouldn’t be as noticeable.”

“What a fairy,” I flip him my finger before storming out of the Fae coffee shop. I didn't want to cuss out a warrior completely, but using the feminine word for Fae surely had to annoy him.

I would rather face every symptom of the flu than deal with the stares from my parents the second I walk into our house.

My mom gapes openly and my dad laughs, “What the hell did you do Lilianna?”

“I went to the fae coffee shop,” I groan and throw myself onto the living room couch.

“And came back with the mark of a warrior!” my mom shouts and pats my back harshly from over the back of the couch. I can't tell if she is excited or disappointed with my interaction.

“It wasn’t my fault! They gave me a healing herb and a courage herb and then a Royal Warrior came in-”

My dad begins to wheeze as he laughs, “You owe a favor to a Royal Warrior?”

I groan into the couch cushions, “I threw my cup at his head and he got mad! It wasn’t my fault!”

I can hear my mom try to shush dad before consoling me, “It’s okay Lily. Once you complete the favor, the mark will disappear. Just be careful not to accept any lifelong committments.”

“But it’s so obvious mom. Everyone is going to know that I pissed off a warrior.”

My mom gives me a sympathetic smile while my dad chimes in, “A Royal Warrior.”

I chuck a couch pillow at his head, but can’t stop myself from laughing too. I sit up from the couch, “Well, I guess it could be worse. My other option was to face the High King.”

“Your father and I have always wanted to see the High King,” Mom sighs and Dad nods wishfully behind her, “We’ve studied the fae for ten years, and have never seen the King or his sons in person.”

I stand with a sigh, there goes the sympathy from my parents as they geek out over the magical fae species.

“I should change,” I squeeze my damp clothing, “A shower will hopefully wash this away.”

I touch my throat tenderly and receive sympathetic smiles from my parents as I walk upstairs to my room.

Once inside, I ditch my clothes by the door and walk into my bathroom to access the damage of the mark.

The mark spans the entirety of my throat; the outline of dark green wings flares out from one side of my neck to the next, and the golden mark of a Royal Warrior is stamped over the top. I should've known he wasn't just some warrior by the mark on his wings.

I quickly turn on the bath to take a long soak, and with the few minutes it will take to fill the tub, I grab my make-up bag and dump the contents onto the sink counter.

With concealer in hand, I dab a heavy dose over the top of the mark and am pleasantly surprised when the dark green wings don't peak through the concealer.

I barely finish covering the mark completely when pain begins to run over my throat. I let out a soft scream as the heat from the mark feels a flame being placed directly under the skin of my neck.

I turn around to the bathtub that is still filling with water, and quickly scratch off the concealer with my fingernails.

The water muddies with concealer, but as sooner as the mark is uncovered the pain ebbs and I can breathe in a steady pattern again.

I'm still crouched next to the bathtub when the bathroom door suddenly opens and the fae warrior walks in, "Learn your lesson?"

With a squeal, I grab my towel from the rack and wrap the cloth around myself, giving the warrior an eyeful in the process.

“What the fuck fairy! Get out!” I push against his shoulder with my hand, and he grabs my arm in one quick motion

The warrior rolls his eyes, “It’s part of the mark, human. Try to cover up my mark and not only will I know, but I will make you feel pain.”

“I was just trying to take a bath. Now isn’t the best time Warrior to be expressing your control over me.” I cross my arms over my chest as soon as he releases my arm.

“You were trying to conceal the mark, human,” he leans against the bathroom counter and picks up the concealer, “But that’s not why I’m here.”

I snatch my concealer away from his hands, and busy myself putting my make-up away, “Then why?”

He turns to look at me from the mirror, “I have a favor.”