by M. C. Aquila
Iain wasn’t as entirely familiar with the reel as she was, but he had the grace to laugh along with the faeries who giggled when he made a misstep. But by the time they’d gone through the steps once, he was keeping up with them easily.
This dance required a lot of hand touching and arm locking, and at first Deirdre found herself stumbling anytime this happened. But soon she just laughed it off, enjoying the movement, the music, and the touch, sound, and sight of Iain. This dance was a side of him, and a side of herself, that she’d never seen before.
In the middle of a reel, Iain missed a step again but kept going, making up his own steps along the way. Giggling, Deirdre followed along with him, and together they baffled the dancing faeries around them as they, without a care, danced to their own rhythm. Iain lifted her without warning and spun her around, and she squealed in surprise.
I want to see more, she thought, her heart fluttering as she spun, guided by his hand. I want to know more and more about him—and more and more about what I’m like with him! They skipped down the main line, heading back to their first positions. When they paused for a moment before the next steps, she looked up into his eyes, breathless. For a wild moment, she felt both frozen and like stepping over and kissing him.
But then the next part of the dance began, sending them in two separate directions. And as happy as she was, she was glad he couldn’t see her flushing face.
* * *
After a few more dances, Iain stepped aside to quickly down the last of his canteen of water but found only a few drops remaining. When he glanced around for a source of water, he came face-to-face with a ruddy-cheeked, red-bearded Faun—a half-human, half-goat faery with hooves for feet. He was dressed in a green silk vest, which complemented the mane of curly copper-wire hair on his head from which spiraled goat horns grew, and he held two goblets in his hairy hands.
Iain gaped but was able to hide his shock well enough before the faery spoke in a boisterous voice. “Never seen a human here before!” the Faun said, eyeing him up and down and letting out a merry laugh. “Never seen a creature dance as you did, either! Did you misstep on purpose?”
“Well, er, no.” Iain managed a sheepish smile before the Faun held out one of the goblets to him, the bubbly, gold-colored contents sloshing but not spilling over the side. A slightly sweet smell scented the air and stung in his nose.
“You look parched, my friend. Care for a drink?” the Faun asked, beaming.
Iain shook his head. “I don’t— Well, I don’t drink alcohol.”
“You are from this island, are you not? Your accent suggests you are.” The Faun’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Some water, then? Just a taste.” Oblivious, he thrust the other goblet at Iain’s chest. This one was filled with clear liquid. The scent was faint and would probably go unnoticed by most, but the sweet tang was unmistakable to Iain.
Faery water.
“No—I-I—” Iain recoiled, stammering, hardly able to hear over the blood pounding in his ears. Panic lodged in his throat, but he managed to say calmly after coughing, “No, thank you. I only drink… water. No Faery water.”
As the Faun shrugged his furry shoulders and stepped aside, disappearing into the crowd, Iain closed his eyes and took a moment to breathe. When he opened his eyes again, a different, much grumpier ginger-bearded face was in front of him.
Iain let out a breath. “Cai,” he said, smiling in relief.
The knight held out a wooden goblet of pure, fresh river water to him, his expression curious. “You look positively thrilled to see me.” Cai chuckled. “I figured after the training I put you through today, you wouldn’t want to see my face for a while.”
“I’m glad to see your face, and I’d take training with you right now over… what just happened.”
“I figured I would come rescue you. Turns out I didn’t need to.”
“From the temptation or from the small talk?” Iain took a grateful sip of water, sighing. “I didn’t expect— It’s not hard to say no. But being faced with it, even though I don’t want it… the reminder is rough.”
The knight gave him a hard pat on the back, making Iain dribble water down his chin. “Hey, we’ll both be sober tonight. Especially with how your mother keeps glaring at me whenever I go near the ale.”
“Cheers, then.” Iain clinked his glass against Cai’s, and after taking a drink, he raised his eyebrows and asked, “Since when do you care what my mum thinks?”
“Oh, I don’t. She’s just got that scary-Mum energy, like she might whallop my head with a wooden spoon. Keeps me on my toes.”
As he took a moment to recover, Iain kept looking back at Deirdre as she talked happily with some of the Noble Faeries. Roshan and Cardea had approached her when, out of the evening shadows, Lonan appeared and addressed him.
“Iain Callaghan.” The raven-haired faery’s smile was thin. “I see you have been enjoying the festivities tonight. These faery celebrations can last well into the night, and they can dance for hours without pause.” He glanced away from Iain, commenting, “Ah, I see Deirdre is off again. Her mother used to love dancing as well.”
After looking straight ahead first, not catching a glimpse of her ginger hair in the crowds on the bridge, Iain glanced up as Lonan pointed a slim finger at the night sky.
Roshan had taken Deirdre’s hand, while Cardea danced with Nikias, and led her into the line of faeries. As they joined, the music shifted to something calmer. All the faeries formed couples in a dance that took them into the air, weaving smooth circles and loops around the arc of lanterns.
As Deirdre screamed and then laughed as they leaped up into the air, Iain couldn’t help but chuckle. After Roshan summoned a smooth jet of water, which looped up and under their feet, they followed the other faeries’ steps under, around, and over the lanterns. The streams of water stayed solid but sent up a splash with each step. The dance flew by in dazzling flashes of light, colors, water, and movement, and Iain was mesmerized.
She’s so amazing.
“’Tis quite different from the dance you shared,” Lonan said, jolting Iain out of his smiling stupor. “Would you ask Deirdre to give up the splendor of our realm for a human existence with you?”
Iain flinched, prying his eyes away from Deirdre’s dancing form to meet the faery’s narrowed gaze. “That isn’t what I’m doing,” he said firmly. “I would never try to stand in the way of what Deirdre wants. We were just… dancing.”
Gesturing to the sky, Lonan said, “No. That is just dancing. I saw how you looked at her.” When Iain was silent, flushing, the faery went on, “Let her fit in inside the realm, Iain. Let her outgrow you. Faeries and humans seldom coexist, and your place is not here.”
Iain studied the faery closely. Lonan was watching Deirdre dance, his fingers twitching as if ready to summon magic at a moment’s notice to catch her if she stumbled. She was still the little infant he had lost and been waiting to return. He’s not prejudiced against humans or anything. He’s just a dad who wants what’s best for his daughter.
Bowing his head, Iain said after a slow breath, “I understand. When I vouched for her, I promised I would do everything I could to make sure she gets her magic back and fits in here. I just want what’s best for her and what she chooses.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Lonan placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed a little too firmly. “You are free to dance the night away, now that we’ve come to an understanding.”
Chapter Seventeen
James stood on one of the intersecting bridges, studying the lights and lanterns glowing against the darkened sky with his head tilted up. Faeries brushed into him and narrowly avoided knocking him into the river, and they would have hardly noticed him at all if not for Alvey loudly greeting the passing Fae from her chair beside him.
As he studied the lights and the magic around him, taking in all the sights, sounds, and scents, he felt far away from the conversation he had with Mum earlier and her words about the Master, the Cait Si
dhe.
Alvey’s face was flushed, her fingers white from gripping her chair’s wheels, and her teeth were gritted in a forced, tense smile. Leaning down to be heard over the buzz of chatter and music and laughter around them, James asked, “Um, are you okay, Alvey? You seem a little… angry?”
The half elf let out an equally forced laugh to match her smile and tossed her hair with a shake of her head. “Angry?” she asked in a shrill voice. “Why should I be angered by festivities held in honor of my safe return?”
“That’s, uh, what I was wondering.”
“’Tis because”—Alvey took a deep breath, twisting to face him—“they are not celebrating me or my accomplishments outside the realm or my ingenuity with this charm I created.” Slamming her fist on her armrest, she continued in a sickly sweet, falsely cheery tone, “’Tis because they consider it a miracle that I still live! They celebrate my still breathing, being that I am half human!”
When she paused to suck in air, James said with a shrug, “I never really liked attention either. Not even on birthdays. I mean, it was one of the only times I could ask for new books or… or socks. I liked that part. But celebrating always felt weird. And now…” His expression slackened. “Now that kind of attention would just, uh, feel even worse.”
“Because you were sold as a thrall, and your worth and life was decided for you before you were born?”
He was winded like Alvey had punched him in the gut. “Well, uh, yes. That’s exactly the reason, thanks.”
“You are welcome.” The half elf waved her hand dismissively. “James, that is a ridiculous reason not to celebrate. Besides, I am certain there are”—her face flushed deeper—“many people who are glad you were born.”
Grabbing Alvey’s chair, James started pushing her across the bridge, toward the shore of the river. “C’mon, Alvey,” he said. “There are… there are too many people here. I need some space. And we have research to conduct.”
After James explained he needed to find something with innate magic inside of it, they headed away from the river and into the forest. Alvey directed him toward bioluminescent mushrooms nearby that faeries imbued with Flora Magic, following their scent. As they continued, she kept reaching up to her neck and brushing her fingers over the crystal charm she had created.
“Are you sensing any magic nearby?” he asked.
“Aye.” Her smile was wry as she tilted her face toward him. “I sense the Time Rapids in the distance, to the north of the forest.”
“The same rapids you got lost in?” When she nodded, he asked, hesitant, “How much do you know about the Time Magic and how it works? What do the rapids do, exactly? I mean time is kind of relative, isn’t it?”
“Relative? I suppose time can pass without us knowing.” Alvey spoke in a detached way, but her chin quivered just so, her voice wavering a fraction with it. “Time can age us to dust. It can forget us and make us forgotten to the world in turn. The Time Rapids work in the same way.”
James shivered, unnerved and excited at once. “But time does good things too, right?” he asked. “It’s supposed to… heal all wounds and stuff.”
“’Tis true, I suppose. Though do you speak from experience?”
He grunted in response, then asked quickly, “Would we—would I be able to see them if we followed where you sense the rapids?”
“’Tis possible.” The half elf flicked her fringe out of her eyes, gesturing to the sealed eyelids. “Of course, I could not sense or see the Time Magic when I fell under its sway. But perhaps you could study it.”
An awful sinking, falling feeling struck him as he recalled, distantly horrified, that the Cait Sidhe had been the one to take Alvey’s eyes from her. There was a slim chance it had been a different Cait Sidhe than Cecil. But Cecil would scoff at his weak, scrambling justification.
He would probably say I’m too smart and grown-up for that kind of thinking. He would say a good researcher always seeks the truth. I need to face the truth, no matter how confused it makes me.
They reached a grove of trees upon which grew colonies of bioluminescent fungi that lit up the area. The mushrooms varied in size from as small as a fingernail to the size of James’s fist, and they glowed a faint bluish-green color, like a crashing wave catching the sunlight, and gave off an earthy, warm scent.
James went to pick some eagerly but hesitated, remembering what Deirdre had said about magic and what it was meant to do. When he asked if it was all right to pick some, Alvey explained the purpose of the mushrooms was to light a path through the forest, so it was fine to take a few with them.
As they traveled, Fae-created lights danced in the distance through the forest. The brightest were twin yellow orbs floating nearby and looking for a split second like a pair of golden eyes peering at them. James glanced away.
“Alvey?” he asked hesitantly as they ventured north, toward the Time Rapids. “You know how I told you I was learning magic, and you asked who was teaching me?” He held his breath.
“Aye,” Alvey said, sounding smug, holding the picked mushrooms in her hands and lighting the way. “I recall you claimed you could have learned it on your own, which is highly—”
“Well, the Cait Sidhe is the one teaching me!” he shouted in a rush.
Silence fell over them, and even the insects and birds seemed to quiet around them as the pounding of his heart in James’s ears drowned out all other sounds. He stopped pushing the chair, frozen, waiting for the Alvey to explode at him or warn him like everyone else had.
Alvey was pensive, resting her elbow on her armrest and her chin on her hand. Her brow furrowed as she asked, “This would be the same Cait Sidhe who took my eyes, as your mother claimed he holds Puck captive.”
“Y-yes.”
“Why does he desire to teach you magic?”
“He… he said he just wants to pass on what he’s learned to someone. He doesn’t have any children or any family left to teach, I guess.”
Finally, after thinking for a few moments, Alvey turned her face to James. “On the night I lost my eyes, I had wandered off from the Wild Hunt on my steed. That is when I met this Cait Sidhe. He did not simply take my eyes from me—he tricked me out of them in a wager. A game. And at that age, I was inexperienced and proud enough to play by his rules.”
I should hate him. And I do hate the Cait Sidhe, the person who took Alvey’s eyes and who tormented Mum. But Cecil Morris…
“Regardless, James…,” she went on calmly, “you could use this. You could use him, as he used me, to learn important information while you are learning magic from him. ’Tis like you are spying on our enemy.”
“But… but,” James stammered, “he’s never even talked about the Winter Court or the war before. I don’t know if I can learn anything. I could try, I guess.”
“I ask that you share what you learn about magic with me, as we agreed earlier. And if he wants you to learn anything that could harm you, I should be able to tell.” Flushing, she added, “I am brilliant, after all, as I overheard you say to my mother.”
“You’re not… angry with me?”
“I am not like Deirdre,” Alvey said with a chuckle, tossing her hair. “And I am able to see this situation in a logical manner. Though keep your wits about you. He is very clever. Alas, you are quite clever too.”
James’s face warmed.
They reached a break in the line of trees where a rocky field lay beyond. The sky was open, dark, and full of blinking stars. There was an odd sensation in the air, like it was alive with something. There was no wind blowing, no sounds.
“The Time Rapids are this way, thereabouts,” Alvey said, pointing directly ahead of them to the field. “Keep your eyes open, and you should see things shifting or changing here and there. That is the mark of the Time Rapids.”
When James took an eager step away from her, he started as Alvey grabbed his hand. “Be careful, and do not get too close. I would… I would hate for anything to happen to you.”
The half elf let go of his hand like it had scorched her, flicking her fringe to hide her face. “Aye, but do not let that fact go to your head.”
Still snickering, James took cautious steps forward into the field. The ground was jagged with rocks and covered with green moss, creating swirling patterns in the earth. In the center of the field was a boulder with another spiral of moss on the side of it—it was made of black stone.
At first, as James studied the area, he felt like his eyes were playing tricks on him. The moss a few feet ahead of him shifted like in the wind, but there was no breeze. Then, in a flash, it changed from green to a dull, dying brown and back again. The Time Magic was aging and reviving the moss in a loop.
James took a step back, his eyes wide and a huge smile on his face. The field was not a field—it was like a riverbed, and the Time Rapids were flowing through it like water, weaving over and around the flora there. “I wonder if I could catch some of it—like some of the moss the magic has touched or a rock…”
He trailed off, noticing that, out of all the moss and plants and rocks the magic was touching, there was one spot that remained unchanged and unmoved: a line of rock on the large, dark boulder.
“Alvey,” James called over his shoulder, “are there some places or natural elements Time Magic can’t affect? Like how faeries have an aversion to iron.”
“Nay. ’Tis not possible—or at least no faery has ever spoken of such a thing.”
“Well, the Time Rapids are avoiding this one piece of rock. At least it looks like that’s what it’s doing.” He shrugged his pack off his shoulders, setting it on the ground. “I’m going to take a sample to study.”
“Nay, wait!” Her voice grew shrill. “Wait for the rapids to clear. If you step into them now, you could be stuck as I was.”