away, but the weight of the dress felt like an anchor, pinning me to the spot and I knew that it would be useless to try and run.
Vincent stepped forward, giving me no option than to press up against the tree.
“Are you still finding it difficult to breathe, my darling?”
I shook my head as he reached out a hand and pulled at the ribbon lacing of my bustier. The silk slipped out of its bow wi th an impossibly loud slither. As he pulled the blood- red lacing towards him, he twirled it around his finger, drawing me closer. He raised his unbound hand to loosen the fabric and slip it under my top. The image of a boa constrictor slid through my mind. He leant forward to kiss me and I turned my head away, desperate for our lips not to connect. He let out a soft giggle before nuzzling his lips and nose into the valley of my neck. His lips planted small kisses along the edge of the bones.
A co ld nausea stirred in my stomach. I wanted to scream but I knew if I did, I would be silenced.
In his arrogance he mistook my shudder for one of pleasure and whispered in my ear, “You like that don’t you, sweetheart? Let me kiss you. Let me feel what the inside of your mouth feels like.”
A sob welled up from inside my chest and , realising that I was not as willing as he had hoped, he let g o of the lace and used his free hand to grab my chin, pulling it towards him. “I said, let me in.”
When I refused to part my lips, he pulled away and brought the back of his hand down in a stinging slap across my cheek. The sight of my tears seemed to impassion him more and he threw his weight against me, pushing his lips onto mine and covering my nose so that I had no option but to open my mouth to breathe.
He startled as the clock bell struck midnight. It was enough for him to take a step back and unpin me from the tree. He laughed at his foolishness. It was a laugh stained with cruelty and one that meant business would continue. But as he laughed, something was happening to me. It was a pushing sensation against the back of my dress and the sound of silk splitting.
Suddenly Vincent stopped laughing and his jaw fell in disbelief. He took a step back from me and I could tell that he was suddenly afraid, very afraid. As I advanced towards him, he stepped further and further back until eventually our positions were reversed and he was now captive held against the tree.
“Oh, my God!” he exclaimed. “You’ve got … you’ve got … wings. You’re a …” he swallowed hard as if the word had got stuck in his throat, “… a fae.”
Fear welled in his eyes like tears. The cracking, splintering sound of wood came from under him. I cocked my head in curiosity, watched as his hand slipped into the solid trunk of the tree as if it were as welcoming as cream. Noticing the point of my attention he tried to move his hand , and when he couldn’t he looked down to find himself fastened tight ; his hand had been swallowed by the tree right up to his wrist. He turned, twisted, tried to free his hand from the wood , but it wouldn’t budge. As he concentrated on freeing his hand, he failed to notice that his shoulder and arm had suffered a similar fate.
He started to sob and then scream. I watched in wonderment as second by second he slid into the tree. Eventually, all that was left was the tip of his shiny black shoe. Moments later , that too was gone.
*
I moved deeper into the woods, leaving behind the palace, my mother , and my fia ncée. My wings fluttered like soft, soughing gauze behind me, and even though I was yet to see them, I knew they were fear inspiring and beautiful. All at once I understood my mother’s hatred of me. She had known all along that I was not her child but a changeling: the very embodiment of nature and her power. The very thing my mother despised most in the world. So many questions were answered with the eruption of my wings. I suddenly understood why the natural world so strongly called to me, why I was
Vincent stepped forward, giving me no option than to press up against the tree.
“Are you still finding it difficult to breathe, my darling?”
I shook my head as he reached out a hand and pulled at the ribbon lacing of my bustier. The silk slipped out of its bow wi th an impossibly loud slither. As he pulled the blood- red lacing towards him, he twirled it around his finger, drawing me closer. He raised his unbound hand to loosen the fabric and slip it under my top. The image of a boa constrictor slid through my mind. He leant forward to kiss me and I turned my head away, desperate for our lips not to connect. He let out a soft giggle before nuzzling his lips and nose into the valley of my neck. His lips planted small kisses along the edge of the bones.
A co ld nausea stirred in my stomach. I wanted to scream but I knew if I did, I would be silenced.
In his arrogance he mistook my shudder for one of pleasure and whispered in my ear, “You like that don’t you, sweetheart? Let me kiss you. Let me feel what the inside of your mouth feels like.”
A sob welled up from inside my chest and , realising that I was not as willing as he had hoped, he let g o of the lace and used his free hand to grab my chin, pulling it towards him. “I said, let me in.”
When I refused to part my lips, he pulled away and brought the back of his hand down in a stinging slap across my cheek. The sight of my tears seemed to impassion him more and he threw his weight against me, pushing his lips onto mine and covering my nose so that I had no option but to open my mouth to breathe.
He startled as the clock bell struck midnight. It was enough for him to take a step back and unpin me from the tree. He laughed at his foolishness. It was a laugh stained with cruelty and one that meant business would continue. But as he laughed, something was happening to me. It was a pushing sensation against the back of my dress and the sound of silk splitting.
Suddenly Vincent stopped laughing and his jaw fell in disbelief. He took a step back from me and I could tell that he was suddenly afraid, very afraid. As I advanced towards him, he stepped further and further back until eventually our positions were reversed and he was now captive held against the tree.
“Oh, my God!” he exclaimed. “You’ve got … you’ve got … wings. You’re a …” he swallowed hard as if the word had got stuck in his throat, “… a fae.”
Fear welled in his eyes like tears. The cracking, splintering sound of wood came from under him. I cocked my head in curiosity, watched as his hand slipped into the solid trunk of the tree as if it were as welcoming as cream. Noticing the point of my attention he tried to move his hand , and when he couldn’t he looked down to find himself fastened tight ; his hand had been swallowed by the tree right up to his wrist. He turned, twisted, tried to free his hand from the wood , but it wouldn’t budge. As he concentrated on freeing his hand, he failed to notice that his shoulder and arm had suffered a similar fate.
He started to sob and then scream. I watched in wonderment as second by second he slid into the tree. Eventually, all that was left was the tip of his shiny black shoe. Moments later , that too was gone.
*
I moved deeper into the woods, leaving behind the palace, my mother , and my fia ncée. My wings fluttered like soft, soughing gauze behind me, and even though I was yet to see them, I knew they were fear inspiring and beautiful. All at once I understood my mother’s hatred of me. She had known all along that I was not her child but a changeling: the very embodiment of nature and her power. The very thing my mother despised most in the world. So many questions were answered with the eruption of my wings. I suddenly understood why the natural world so strongly called to me, why I was
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