Queen of Sea and Stars

by Anna McKerrow

  ‘Please. Give me my child.’ Faye tried to move, but was still motionless from the chest down.

  Morgana smiled and brought the baby back down and, as Faye watched, unhooked her apron and unbuttoned the white dress underneath.

  ‘All in good time, sidhe-leth,’ she said, and held the bundle to her naked breast.

  ‘No! He isn’t yours. Please, Morgana. Please, give him to me!’ Faye cried, the blue electricity spiking and cutting into her aura. She felt as if she was being slowly torn in two.

  The faerie queen turned up the white sheet in which the baby was wrapped, so that Faye couldn’t see his face. Faye watched with the possessive horror of a new mother as her son suckled at the faerie queen’s milk.

  ‘Yes. Drink, child,’ Morgana murmured, turning away from Faye. Faye felt a tear roll down her cheek.

  ‘Why can’t I move? What have you done to me?’ she screamed at Morgana, but the faerie queen kept her back turned.

  ‘We have given you the gift of a painless delivery,’ she replied, levelly. ‘Many human women beg for it when their time comes. You should be grateful. The paralysis will wear off soon.’

  ‘You can’t… keep him from me,’ Faye panted, trying to pull herself up the bed and failing. A boy. The baby was a boy, like Finn had predicted. Did that mean it was Finn’s?

  ‘Do not be sad, Faye Morgan,’ the faerie queen said. ‘Now I have given him the milk of the faerie realm, he has my magick in him as well as yours. This will be a son of the realms as none has been before. He is the one that songs have been sung of, sidhe-leth.’

  ‘Why? Why did you bring me here?’ Faye appealed, holding her hands out for her baby. ‘And where is Finn? If this is his child, why isn’t he here?’

  Morgana held out a glass of water; Faye took it with her spare hand and drank thirstily.

  ‘I did not say that the baby was his,’ Morgana answered coolly, as Faye tipped the glass up to get the last of the water.

  ‘Is it his? Finn?’ Faye demanded, but the faerie queen smiled and shook her finger playfully in Faye’s face.

  ‘You will see soon enough,’ she chided. Frustration and fear tore at Faye again; she felt as though she was going mad. Morgana was torturing her by not letting her have the baby. She was holding her hostage, but why?

  ‘Who won? Of the two queens? Glitonea? Did you take me for her?’ Faye handed the glass back to the queen: it disappeared in her hands as if it had never existed.

  ‘Neither of them. I brought you here. You must remember I am impartial. I am not part of their petty rivalries, and my magic surpasses all magic.’ Morgana laid the baby in a cradle made of plaited green reeds a few feet away from the bed; from where she lay, Faye couldn’t see into it. Her heart and stomach lurched with grief. Every second that the baby wasn’t with her, she felt him pulling away from her; renouncing his humanity and becoming more and more faerie. If she could only reach him and feed him from her breast, he would be hers. She ached for him.

  ‘Why? Why not let whichever of them have me?’ Faye was crying, and couldn’t stop. Morgana sat down on the side of the bed and placed a cool cloth on her brow. Faye could smell lavender and something else; another, more musky herbal smell.

  ‘Try to be calm, Faye. I intervened because Finn Beatha asked me to watch over you and the child.’ Morgana’s tone was soothing, but Faye railed against it. She’d be soothed when she had her baby, and not before.

  ‘Finn?’ she took some deep breaths to try and regain her composure.

  Morgana looked grave. ‘It is best that you recover and look after the child. You are safe here.’

  ‘Where is Finn?’ Faye kept her voice low so as not to wake the baby, but she was desperate, and the baby stirred, half-woken by the urgency in her voice. ‘Why won’t you tell me if he is the baby’s father? Is he?’ She had to know.

  ‘He has been captured in battle. In the kingdom of Gorias, the faerie realm of Air,’ Morgana replied.

  ‘What?’ Faye cried; the baby stirred again, and she lowered her voice. ‘Captured? How?’

  ‘The legions of Falias. Lyr’s son, Luathas, took him in battle. He is alive, held prisoner there.’ Morgana sighed. ‘The battle has grown intense. All sides wish to control my castle.’

  ‘But none of them can. You’re more powerful than all of them,’ Faye whispered. ‘Please. My baby…’ she held out her arms. ‘Please let me hold him,’ the desperation was turning now; Faye felt a wall of despair coming for her. What if she never got to hold her child?

  ‘In good time. Finn Beatha did you a good deed, Faye Morgan. I was surprised, but it seems he has… feelings for you. Perhaps. But more importantly, there is a prophecy that some of them have interpreted – they think there is a way for me to be overthrown.’ Morgana smiled, untroubled. ‘Finn Beatha believes in this prophecy. He believes that your child will be the one to take my castle.’

  ‘But that doesn’t make sense. If he thinks that, why did he ask you to protect us? And why would you protect the child that will one day destroy you? Don’t you believe the prophecy?’ Faye hugged her arms in an attempt at comfort, but the grief for the child just a few feet away was overpowering. ‘Please. Please, Morgana. My baby. Please give him to me,’ she begged again, but the queen of the Crystal Castle of the Moon ignored Faye, and wrapped her long hands in each other.

  ‘I believe it. How it transpires, I cannot predict. I play my part in the weaving and unravelling of life. I am of the Moon, and the Moon is changeable. It waxes and wanes. Your son has drunk of my power. That may mean that he will challenge me, one day, for power. Or it may mean that my milk has protected me from him. We will see. But I chose to take control of the prophecy of my ending. I chose not to let it be decided by Moronoe or Glitonea.’

  ‘Can I see him? Finn?’

  ‘He is in Gorias.’

  ‘Does that mean yes or no?’

  ‘It means that is where he is.’

  Faye felt as though Morgana’s every answer was a stream of mystery and obstruction.

  ‘You’re not telling me anything. And what do I do next, anyway? Stay here forever?’

  ‘You cannot stay here for long. But I can protect you in the human world.’ A soft sensation of pins and needles had started in Faye’s toes, and she wiggled one set carefully. Her body was starting to awaken. Morgana couldn’t keep her from her baby much longer.

  Morgana turned the cold cloth on the forehead over. ‘Every one of the faerie realms seeks this child. I will protect you both until he becomes old enough to walk into his power.’

  ‘How?’ Faye stared at the woven reed cradle. How could anyone so small and helpless hold such power over the entire faerie realm?

  ‘How is not your concern,’ Morgana sighed.

  ‘And Finn? Will he… will he come back?’ Faye’s emotions were a jumble. Part of her was elated that Finn had been captured. He had caused Aisha’s death and the deaths of other humans. Finn was amoral, dangerous, selfish. But a deep, instinctive part of her grieved for him. Even if he wasn’t the father. He had been her lover, and – indirectly – he had saved her child on the beach.

  ‘It is unclear,’ Morgana said as a wave of tiredness overtook Faye. She felt her eyes closing, and Morgana’s gentle touch lifting the cloth away. ‘But I have never known Finn Beatha to lose his grip on the things he wants. He wants you, and he will want your child.’

  The faerie queen stood up and went to the crib. Faye watched her fearfully, dread rising in her gut as Morgana bent over and reached her black, scaly long-fingered hands into it.

  ‘Please don’t hurt him.’ Faye felt the tears come again; she was helpless. She still couldn’t move.

  ‘I would not hurt him,’ Morgana said, reprovingly, as she laid the swaddled baby in Faye’s outstretched arms at last. ‘I will protect him, and you.’

  ‘Oh, thank goodness.’ Faye held the baby to her, and relief flooded her still-paralysed body.

  ‘He will need a name before long,’ Morga
na warned. ‘It is unlucky to be without a name, especially in the faerie realms.’

  Fifty-Four

  It was the baby’s name day, and Faye had taken him for a walk in the sling she’d finally worked out how to use, hoping to get him to have a nap before everyone arrived for the garden party she and Gabriel had planned for the afternoon. Gabriel had ushered her out of the shop before turning the “Open” sign to “Closed”; he was setting up the buffet and putting up the decorations while she was gone.

  As Faye walked through the village, people stopped her to coo over the baby and ask how he was getting on, or how she was feeling – some even asked after Gabriel, who was becoming quite the celebrity in Abercolme. Having baby Alasdair had apparently changed Faye in the eyes of the Abercolme villagers: from suspicious witch to acceptable mother. Faye realised in speaking to some of her neighbours – some, that she hadn’t exchanged words with for years – that she’d suddenly been admitted into a club she’d never known existed: as a parent, she now had something in common with every other parent on the planet.

  Gabriel would never be totally free from the grip of Murias. Faye had no idea how he had managed to evade Glitonea’s grasp at the beach that day, but she suspected Morgana had a hand in protecting him. Some of his old sparkle had returned. He had started talking about returning to London and to Fortune’s, but he wasn’t in a hurry: he pretended that he was staying for Faye, to help her with the baby, which may have been partly true – Gabriel was surprisingly good with Alasdair and could often get him to sleep when Faye couldn’t. The Abercolme air had brought colour back to Gabriel’s cheeks, and he was beginning to sleep better. Whole weeks passed when there were no nightmares at all. He had offered to be gone for the name day, suggesting that no-one wanted a recovering addict at a party, but Faye had told him off. He was family now.

  Annie’s busy filming schedule at Coven of Love had an autumn break, and she and Susie were coming to stay; Faye had also invited Ruby and some of her friends from the village: Muriel from the bakery was bringing a huge cake she’d made Alasdair, and the minister had offered to do the naming ceremony, much to Faye’s surprise and insistence that it wasn’t a christening. But Faye thought it would be nice to have everyone together in the old Morgan house. It would feel like the house had a family again, and Faye needed family. So did Alasdair.

  The autumn sun glowed golden orange on Faye’s auburn curls as she walked; she shielded Alasdair’s face from it with her hand, but relished its warmth on her shoulders. Following one of the small roads that led to the beach, she walked under the yellow, gold and russet leaves that fell from the trees like autumn confetti.

  After passing out in the Crystal Castle, Faye had awoken in her own bed with Alasdair lying on her chest. Both of them had been bathed, dressed and cared for; Faye was completely healed from the birth, and felt strong and clear-headed. Alasdair seemed none the worse for being delivered on a beach, and fed happily when she breastfed him.

  There was no other message or sign from Morgana other than Faye and the baby were well, and nothing bad had happened to them. However she was protecting Faye and Alasdair from the faerie queens, Morgana’s magic seemed to be working. There was no hint of threat or danger anywhere; Faye had no dreams, sudden visions or communications that suggested Glitonea or Moronoe could reach her. Faye was so busy, and so preoccupied with Alasdair, that she had little time to worry about it. For the moment, as long as they were safe, that was enough.

  Black Sands Beach spread out in front of Faye; the horizon shone gold with the afternoon sun. There was no-one else there, as ever. Faye walked to the tide, kicked off her sandals, and stood in the cold water. It seemed a different place to the beach where the queens had warred over her; where she’d crouched and prayed for help, knocked over by pain. But it was the same place, and Faye bent her head respectfully to the water and the sand. These lines between the elements were the places of magic, and she’d never forget their power.

  Alasdair squawked a little; he would only go off to sleep with constant movement and often grew impatient when she stood still, so Faye walked along the tideline, stopping short of the house that was once Rav’s. She was surprised to see a SOLD sign outside it. Her thoughts turned to him, and the sonogram picture she’d seen at his flat. Mallory was pregnant, but was it Rav’s baby, or Lyr’s? And if it was Lyr’s child, would it spend its life in Falias, being trained to be Luathas’s expendable double, or would Lyr have another fate planned for it?

  Faye hoped, for Mallory’s sake, that the baby was Rav’s. They could have a normal life together, in that case, and the baby could grow up a normal child. Faye might have disliked Mallory, but she knew the pain of having your baby stolen by the fae – even if, in her case, it had only seemed that way for a short while – and she wouldn’t wish it on anyone. She realised that she wished them well. Perhaps they could be happy together.

  Faye turned away from that side of the beach and strode through the rocks just before the point where grass met sand, humming a lullaby to Alasdair. Please sleep, little one, she crooned to him. Sleep, my darling. Alasdair’s eyes started to flutter closed.

  Thank goodness, she thought, retracing her steps along the beach. If she kept going for another forty minutes or so, that would be enough to get the baby through another couple of hours of a party. She couldn’t wait to see Annie and Ruby, and she knew it would be good for Gabriel too.

  It wasn’t often that she allowed herself to think of Finn – she felt, somehow, that it was dangerous, reaching out to him with her mind – but she couldn’t avoid it, being on the beach. It would always be a place synonymous with him.

  Her and Finn’s connection was so strong that he’d been able to visit her in dreams and appear to her in the human world, but now, as she thought of him, she felt a curious nothingness, a slackness at the end of the line. Where are you? she thought, fiercely, but there was no reply.

  Faye closed her eyes, continuing to walk, holding her sandals in one hand, feeling the wet sand between her toes. She didn’t want Finn, but she wanted some kind of closure from him. That he wouldn’t bother her, but, most importantly, that he would leave Alasdair alone. She believed in Morgana’s protection, but nothing had so far protected her from Finn Beatha.

  Finn? Speak to me she appealed again in her mind, and a sudden vision came to her.

  Finn Beatha sat in a dark cell, shadows masking the ethereal beauty of his face. His knees were steepled, and he hugged himself in the dark.

  Faye opened her eyes, startled; her sudden stop jarred Alasdair, who fretted for a few moments until she had begun walking again, and returned to sleep. Faye had never seen Finn look so small, so miserable; he had never been anything but tall, imperious, beautiful; he was a faerie king, a powerful being. She semi-closed her eyes again to try to return to the vision, but it had gone, and she had to keep her eyes open to walk, otherwise Alasdair would wake up.

  He was imprisoned in Gorias. He was suffering, and being kept against his will.

  He deserves everything he gets for murdering Aisha, Faye thought, balling her fists up with the anger and grief of her friend’s death. And the others. See how you like it, she raged. Something had happened in the war he was fighting, and he was losing. She didn’t care which side won or lost: all Faye cared about now was keeping Alasdair safe. They may think he’s the child of a prophecy, and they can fight each other for him for a thousand years, but they will never have my child she vowed, her heart full of such fierce love for Alasdair that it felt as if it would consume her. If Finn had to suffer to keep Alasdair from harm – or, even if Finn’s imprisonment had no effect on anything – so be it. In fact, as long as Alasdair was protected, Faye didn’t care about the faerie realms at all. Her own half-fae nature was nothing compared to being his mother.

  After she had walked home the long way, letting Alasdair sleep, she returned home to find that Annie, Ruby and Susie had all arrived, and there was no opportunity to tell anyone about her vis
ion. Even if she had had the chance, she realised she wouldn’t say anything: this was Alasdair’s day, and she wouldn’t ruin it by talking about Finn. Everyone was in the back garden, drinking champagne; Susie handed her a glass.

  ‘We started without you.’ She kissed Faye on the cheek. ‘It’s so good to see you, Faye. And this must be Alasdair!’ She held out her finger and the baby grasped it and held it firmly.

  ‘You too!’ Faye gazed around at the garden. Gabriel had been busy: the trees were draped in bunting and white paper garlands, a trestle table bulged with food and drink and music played in the background.

  Annie enveloped Faye and Alasdair in a bear hug until the baby squealed, and she reluctantly let go.

  ‘Aye, he’s a bonny wee thing!’ she exclaimed, tickling Alasdair under the chin. Recovered from his squashing, he gummed a smile at Annie. ‘An’ what a smile, eh?’ She beamed at him, and cast a concerned eye over Faye. ‘Ye alright, sweetheart? How’s he treatin’ ye, the wee bairn?’

  ‘I’m fine, I’m fine!’ Faye felt tears in her eyes and wiped them away. They were happy tears; she’d missed Annie so much. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

  ‘Stop it, ye’ll make me start,’ Annie chided.

  ‘Gabriel’s been a huge help.’ Faye smiled at Ruby and Gabriel hugging; they’d clearly missed each other.

  ‘He’s looking a lot better.’ Susie nodded. ‘You were kind to let him stay. It’s clearly done him the world of good.’

  ‘Honestly, it’s as good for me as him. I think if he hadn’t appeared on the beach that day, I dunno… I don’t think I’d have coped alone.’ Faye kissed Alasdair’s head as he fussed a little. ‘Gabriel was in a real state when he got here. But he seems to have turned a corner.’

  ‘Aye, well, the air’s good up here.’ Annie looked away, pretending to study the buffet.