Queen of Sea and Stars

by Anna McKerrow

  Queen of Sea and Stars

  An absolutely gripping fantasy novel of witchcraft, faeries and magic

  Anna McKerrow

  Books by Anna McKerrow

  Daughter of Light and Shadows

  Queen of Sea and Stars

  Crow Moon

  Red Witch

  Wild Fire

  AVAILABLE IN AUDIO

  Daughter of Light and Shadows (US listeners | UK listeners)

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Daughter of Light and Shadows

  Hear more from Anna

  Books by Anna McKerrow

  A Letter from Anna

  Prologue

  ‘So you see, Faye Morgan, you have nothing to bargain with, and I will not allow you to leave the land of Faerie. Unless…’ the Faerie Queen Glitonea looked appraisingly at Faye and held out her hand. ‘There might be something. But you will not like it.’

  The man slumped in Faye’s arms; faerie soldiers pounded towards them.

  ‘If this is the only way, then I’ll do what has to be done,’ Faye answered grimly. ‘Will you help us get home? If I agree to your bargain?’

  ‘Of course.’ Glitonea’s smile twinkled brightly.

  ‘What is it? What do you want in return?’ Faye took Glitonea’s hand, and the queen waved her other hand at the soldiers; they slowed as if they were running in syrup.

  ‘Something you can make but I cannot. A child.’

  Faye frowned in disbelief.

  ‘What? No! That’s… inhuman.’

  Glitonea laughed.

  ‘I am not human,’ she agreed.

  ‘Why… a child?’ Faye stammered.

  ‘I would have a sidhe-leth heir of my own. I have observed you; the power you hold from both realms. It is full of potential, but it needs teaching from birth. Lyr has his by-blows, and they give him power. I would have the same.’ Glitonea regarded Faye impassively. ‘Or, I can wave my hand and they will take you. And they will put you and your lover in the darkest place in this castle and leave you to rot there. It is your choice,’ she smiled icily. ‘And believe me, sidhe-leth, the dungeons here are very dark, and filled with horrors you cannot comprehend.’

  ‘It’s no choice!’ Faye cried. ‘Please don’t ask this of me.’

  ‘Another plea. You humans are full of wants, and yet when your pleas are answered, you do not like the solutions,’ Glitonea snapped. ‘You are human. You can have other babies; as many as you wish. You will not miss one. And I assure you that it will be well taken care of. It will live as a Prince or Princess of Murias.’ There was no compassion in Glitonea’s eyes; no understanding that a baby was anything other than a possession or a pet. ‘Choose. Quickly.’

  I managed to get Rav away from Finn, Faye reasoned, so I can make this right, too. For now, this is what has to be done.

  ‘Then the bargain is struck,’ the faerie queen smiled.

  One

  His breath was hot on her neck, and her skin was electric against his. Faye, sidhe-leth, bruadarach, neach-gaoil; his words were honey, his lips velvet on hers. Her pleasure came in spirals of golden light, deepening to red in a soft throb between her legs. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in deeper. Finn, Finn; she called out his name, kissing the golden skin of his sun-warmed chest. Please, more.

  He called her sidhe-leth: half-fae. It was an identity she was still coming to terms with.

  His body was so familiar. It fit with hers so well that Faye felt he’d been made for her; his muscular arms and strong, rangy torso with its tattoo of a kelpie, a Scottish water-horse, that reared from his waist to his neck. Kelpies were creatures from myth, yet Faye had first-hand experience of them now: she’d learnt that the faerie realms were as real – and as dangerous – as the ecstasy she enjoyed when she was with Finn Beatha, Faerie King of Murias. She’d fallen in love with him, once, but it was over now. Or, so she thought…

  Rav rolled over and draped his arm over her, waking her from her erotic dream; it was so sudden that she didn’t know where she was for a moment. Being jolted back into the ordinary world was painful; her heart yearned for Finn, and her body demanded its satisfaction.

  ‘You were calling out something. A name,’ Rav murmured sleepily. Her boyfriend. Rav, who was honest and decent and who loved her. She sighed and turned towards him, stroking his body, not wanting her pleasure to end so abruptly.

  ‘Mmmm,’ he said, still mostly asleep.

  ‘Rav. Wake up.’ Faye’s hand caressed him, lower, lower, until she reached his pyjama bottoms. His eyes flickered open a little. ‘Make love to me,’ she whispered, kissing him, the heat from Finn’s kisses radiating through her body.

  Still half-enmeshed in the dream, she’d forgotten the shadowy nature of her faerie king’s love. Faye’s waking self knew that Finn Beatha was an amoral, selfish being, concerned only with his own pleasure, but her unconscious nature remembered only the delicious pleasure he’d enchanted her with; a lassitude of erotic delight he cast over her like a silk robe. A thousand of his kisses on her skin wasn’t enough.

  Halfway between dream and reality, Faye’s desire for Rav merged with her desire for Finn, but perhaps most of all, the desire to forget. Faye craved the lulling effect of being in the faerie kingdom of Murias; she wanted the abandonment of knowing nothing but desire and its satisfaction. She didn’t want to have to struggle with the two sides of herself: half-faerie and half human, light and shadow. She’d tried, and failed, to reconcile one to the other. How much easier it would be to forget everything, and be only breath and pleasure, now, now, now.

  She made Rav lie under her, and straddled him in the light of early morning which was beginning to cast twisted shadows in the bedroom. He moaned softly when she took him inside her, and began to move rhythmically, pursuing her climax. Rav reached for her breasts; she leaned forward. The spiralling pleasure that had begun in the dream returned, and the need for satisfaction roared in her body. She closed her eyes, and Finn’s perfect face appeared before her eyes; when her hands stroked Rav’s chest, it was Finn’s toned, well-muscled flesh they remembered.

  Her pleasure grew and grew, and the erotic dream of faerie returned. Faye remembered the silk dresses she wore there, cut to the waist, exposing her breasts; she remembered the feel of the m
aterial on her skin. And she remembered the night of the masked ball, when, delirious from the faerie food and wine and from the desire that flowed in her veins, she and Finn had made love in front of an audience of fae creatures. At the time, it had seemed as though their pleasure fed their audience, and vice-versa.

  As Faye felt her climax come, she was only half in the ordinary world. Half of her was in Murias, making love to Finn, who could exploit every feeling of pleasure in her – with his breath, with his tongue, with his fingers and with the ardour that seemed never to come to an end.

  As Rav started to cry out in pleasure, her orgasm rocked her.

  Yet it was Finn Beatha she cried out for in her mind, and had to bite her lip to stop herself screaming for; it was for Finn that she ground her hips as she came, hard and deep and hot. It was her faerie lover that was with her, his hot mouth on hers. Rav was just a body, a substitute, in that moment.

  ‘You have not forgotten me.’ Finn was there, behind her eyes; perhaps she’d conjured him in her lovemaking. The faerie king had forbidden her from ever returning to Murias, the faerie realm of water, because of her betrayal; because she chose a human lover over him. And yet, he was here, wanting her.

  ‘No,’ she breathed; the sheets became his skin, smooth against hers. Falling deeper by the second, she buried her head in them, seeking Finn’s perfect body; his smell, which was of the sea.

  ‘You are mine,’ he breathed, as she came to him in dream, and as she reached for his lips with hers like a thirsty traveller at a well. ‘You are mine, sidhe-leth; our bond is too deep to be denied.’

  Two

  ‘I know it’s not the same as the one you lost. But… I dunno. It’s something to remember your mum by.’

  Rav pushed the small black velvet box carefully across the luxurious damask tablecloth to where Faye Morgan sat opposite him. Golden autumn sun streamed through the tall windows in the hotel where they had come for afternoon tea, making the silverware sparkle and the gold at the edge of Faye’s plate catch her eye.

  ‘What is it?’ She frowned curiously at him, putting down the delicate bone china cup half-full of Assam tea. Next to her, a three-tiered cake stand held delicate confections in a variety of luxurious flavours: violet cream, chocolate tuille, mini lemon meringue cheesecakes. Along one wall, a collection of gold-edged vintage mirrors reflected the room, and Faye in it. It made her slightly uncomfortable, catching her own eye as she talked to Rav, who had his back to them.

  ‘Just a little something. For you.’ Rav smiled over the rim of his teacup at her, his dark brown eyes warm with amusement, though shadows lurked under them: he looked tired. ‘Go on, open it.’ He was dressed smartly: a dark blue shirt and black tailored trousers; his shirt had gold cufflinks.

  ‘You don’t need to buy me presents. You’ve already been so generous.’ They had still only known each other less than a year, so she didn’t think this was a proposal, but it struck her suddenly that it could be. They were at the fanciest hotel in London, which Rav had suggested they come to, seemingly, on the spur of the moment as they were meandering around the nearby exclusive shops. When she was getting dressed in the morning, she’d gone to put on her old jeans and a comfortable t-shirt, but he’d suggested she wear the full-skirted floral dress she’d brought down to London with her from Abercolme.

  How would she feel if there was an engagement ring inside? Faye opened the little box, her heart hammering a little.

  Inside the box, there was a gold ring, but it wasn’t a diamond solitaire. Faye felt immediately relieved and, then, immediately guilty for it. But it was way too soon. Not that she didn’t adore Rav; she did. But, this early in their relationship, it would have been awkward for him to propose now. There was still so much they had to learn about each other.

  She took out the ring. It was a gold pentagram set in a circle, similar to the silver one she used to wear, that belonged to her mother, Modron Morgan, though she was always Moddie to Faye and everyone else. But Faye had lost the ring.

  ‘Oh, Rav. It’s so beautiful,’ Faye breathed and slipped it onto the ring finger of her right hand, where she’d worn Moddie’s for the eight years after her death. The indentation of Moddie’s ring was still there. The new band was thicker than the old one, and slightly smaller, so it pinched a little. ‘Thank you.’

  She didn’t know what else to say; emotion choked her throat. She still missed her mother terribly; to lose Moddie when Faye was eighteen, when she still needed her so much, had been awfully hard. And though she was older now, Faye still felt the emptiness in her life where Moddie should be: someone to tell her stories about her childhood, to know Faye’s oldest hurts, and be there to comfort them.

  ‘I know how much you miss her. So I had it made for you. I hope it’s okay that it’s gold and not silver.’ He frowned, seeming worried that she wouldn’t like it. ‘I don’t want it to be wrong. I mean, I don’t know if silver’s supposed to be special for, you know, witchy stuff…’ He trailed off, anxiously.

  Faye felt the tears well up and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand: she didn’t want to cry, especially in such a grand place. She missed Moddie, but had her best friend Annie, and now she had Rav. It was such a relief to be able to have someone else to trust. And she was beginning to trust him: slowly, daily, she let a little more of him into her heart.

  She was a witch, from a family of witches, as long as anyone could remember. Perhaps that was the reason why she had made so few friends and, though she’d had a few one-night stands, had no boyfriends before Rav. She was forever an outsider, a woman of power who had, herself, always been afraid of it.

  But the main reason was that she didn’t trust anyone with her heart; her father had left her and Moddie when she was a baby, and Moddie had died. She’d lost Grandmother before Moddie, at whose knee she’d spent so many hours, listening to her tales of faeries and the old Scottish legends: of winter hag goddesses up in the snow-covered mountains and of selkie women who married human men but returned to the cold, clear ocean as seals. She was afraid of love; of loving someone that would leave her, yet again.

  And, after the Faerie King Finn Beatha, she was afraid of loving the wrong man; someone who would take what he wanted without any care for her.

  She thought she could trust Rav. Her head knew it, but her heart was taking its time to let him in.

  Faye got up, walked around the table and gave him a hug and a kiss. ‘I love this. It’s so kind of you, Rav. And, no, it’s really no problem that it’s gold.’ She laughed a little, making herself be jolly, banishing the sadness as she was so used to doing: away in a little box, to be ignored or looked at later when she was alone. ‘Believe me, I don’t have a problem with being given expensive jewellery. Moddie couldn’t ever afford anything other than silver, that’s all.’ She laid her forehead on his and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Rav looked pleased, and returned the hug.

  Her head against his, Faye opened her eyes to her reflection in the mirrors opposite. Some had the silvered appearance of old mirrors that had, perhaps, hung in decadent ballrooms or the powder rooms of grand houses. For a sudden moment, eyes that weren’t hers stared back at her, and she blinked; a shadow passed over the silvered glass, and a faint voice called her name. Faye Morgan, sidhe-leth. Faye, Faye.

  It was nothing. A trick of the light, she told herself. Your imagination.

  She didn’t want the faeries here; she wanted nothing more to do with them. She’d left her shop, Mistress of Magic, and come to London to get away from the memories. You can’t haunt me here. Faye closed her eyes and murmured a protection spell. She slipped her hand into her pocket and rubbed the small mirror which she’d inscribed with a banishing sigil. Be gone, be gone, she thought fiercely.

  ‘You’ve really been spoiling me, since we got here.’ Faye took her seat again, cleared her throat and took a scone from the bottom tray of the cake stand, spreading it with jam and thick clotted
cream. ‘I could eat cakes and tea for every meal, I think.’ She made herself enjoy its soft creaminess, seeking the grounding comfort of food. She knew that eating and drinking was one of the best ways to protect yourself against magic; to remind yourself, and the spirits that might choose to plague you, that you were blood and bone, heavy, resistant to their touch.

  There had been other dreams, not only of Finn. Nightmares in which faeries dandled a baby she knew was hers in front of her, refusing her clutching hands.

  ‘If you want to come here every afternoon for cakes and tea, I’ll leave them my credit card details.’ Rav smiled. ‘They could reserve the Faye Morgan table for you. Near to the window and within earshot of the piano, but not too close,’

  Faye was staring at the mirrors and hadn’t been listening. ‘I’m sorry. What was that?’ She made herself return to the room.

  ‘I was saying, you can come here any time you like. Are you okay, Faye?’ Rav’s gaze flickered to the mirrors and back at her.

  ‘Of course. I could be a lady who lunches. No. A lady who teas. It wouldn’t be very healthy, though, would it?’ She made herself sound chatty, smiled reassuringly at him. She didn’t want him thinking she was mad, or that she was tortured with nightmares of making a bargain with the faeries. In the old folk tales, mothers left their ailing babies out for the faeries to take. Sometimes they would leave a fae child for the human mother to raise while they took the human child to live happily in the fae realm. It was an old exchange, fae for human, a symbol of the once-close relationship between the two realms. No-one believed in it any more, of course. But in her nightmares, faeries stole a child she didn’t yet have.