Thirty-two
The hum of fairy wings sounded a little softer than the chirp of cicadas. The tiny orbs of light flitted outside Father’s cottage. He opened the windows, and their sound increased, bringing back memories of better years long past. There were times I wished I’d never left my fairy world.
This evening brought me closer to finding my godson, for which I was grateful. I’d suspected my father of being a dark practitioner. Instead, I found him a lonely man unable to express his emotions, a man who loved his wife but couldn’t find a way to tell her.
I fidgeted with the box. He’d told me to discover its magical word when the time was right. When would that be, exactly?
The fire burned to a smolder. It radiated soft, ocher light around Father’s living chambers, sending its glow to the bookshelves, the table filled with our empty teacups, and to Father, who slung a robe of dark blue around his shoulders. “I’m to attend dinner in the high lord’s palace. You’re welcome to accompany me.”
Another dinner invitation. How many of these had I avoided? Coming up with excuses was getting tedious, but making them had become a habit I didn’t know how to break. “I’m sure the high lord wouldn’t want me to interfere.”
“You aren’t elven royalty. It’s doubtful the high lord would notice your presence.”
Gee, thanks, Dad.
“I’ve extended my welcome to you on numerous occasions, yet you refuse me. Have I wronged you?”
I sighed. Here we go. Having a heart-to-heart with my father was something I’d avoided my entire life, and with good reason. I remembered the look on his face at the Wult gathering after I’d burst through the enchanted doors. My presence to him was like a curse, a reminder of his time spent with a human woman who no longer cared for him, who didn’t even remember him. I didn’t want to shame him by appearing by his side at an elven gathering.
“You haven’t wronged me,” I said.
“Then why do you avoid me?”
“Me?” I asked, stunned. I remembered the lonely evenings I’d spent as a child in the dragon caves. Though I loved the dragons like family, I wished I could’ve talked with someone like me. Father had visited only on occasion, and never for very long. How could he claim such a thing?
“I realize I’ve been distant,” he explained. “But it’s not our way to be overly affectionate. I hoped to teach you of the elven ways through my example.”
I didn’t know how to react. Anger burned in the place where I’d stored my feelings of inadequacy. “In the first place, you left me to be raised by dragons so you wouldn’t have to bother with me. You taught me nothing of the elven ways. In fact, I’ve learned to hate them. I know more of dragons and humans than I do of your kind. If you think I’ve avoided you, it’s only because I had a very excellent teacher. How many nights did I lay awake in the dragon caves with tears in my eyes, wondering why my father never came to visit?”
He took a step back, his face unreadable. If I’d struck a chord, it didn’t show. “Is this what you believe? That I abandoned you to the dragons because you were a bother?”
“I’ve never been given a better explanation.”
He sat across from me. The fire sputtered. The flames flickered over the hardened features of my father’s face. “You’ve never been told the circumstances of your birth for good reason,” he said finally, his voice hushed.
“What circumstances?”
“It would be wrong of me to tell you. There are many secrets I have already divulged. I will not reveal another. Suffice it to say, it would have been dangerous for me to have you in my presence. You were never a burden, and I have never been ashamed of you.”
“Dangerous how?”
“Dangerous to your life, and to mine as well.”
I crossed my arms. I’d never heard of this. How could I be certain he wasn’t coming up with another excuse?
“How do I know you aren’t lying?”
“In this case, you’ll have to trust me.”
“Trust is earned.”
“Indeed. You will have to let go of you misconceptions of me. I am not a bad man, though I am not perfect, either. I know I have made mistakes. My tendency to protect the truth is one of them, though I keep my secrets for good reason. Will you forgive me, Olive?”
This put me at an impasse. On the one hand, I could believe him and forgive him for all his shortcomings that resulted in the screwy mess I called my life. On the other hand, I made sure I knew him first before exonerating him from his crimes.
“I’ll join you for dinner,” I conceded. “But you can’t expect anything more.”
He nodded. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but if he was disappointed, it didn’t show. “Very well. Tonight you shall feast. On the morrow, you must travel to the pixies.”
I stuffed the box in my pocket. Father led me out the door. Though I felt I’d made the right decision, a feeling of guilt gnawed at me. Would I ever be close to my father?
We followed a narrow footpath overshadowed by the huge, cypress-like trees. I spied several fairy homes in the swaying green boughs, their twinkling lights shining through bits of pinecone shingles and acorn tops.
If you’d taken me to the moon and then dropped me back on the world, I would know instantly which reality I’d entered simply by listening. The insects of Earth chirp with life, with energy, but not with magic. In Faythander, magic envelops the trees, the grass, and every living organism. It gives them music unique from anything Earth can produce, a melodic hum that strikes a chord deep within the soul. It was so beautiful that when visitors from Earth crossed back home, the forgotten memories shattered them to the core, almost like experiencing death.
I realized how lucky I was to remember both worlds.
We turned off the path and onto a wide, cobbled street that led us under the city wall. Sounds of voices echoed around us as we entered the city’s inner courtyard. Elves filled the street. In the moonlight, children darted past us, wearing bright oranges and reds and pinks. Their parents waited under the awnings, their clothing more simple and drab.
Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, elves went through a transformation that changed them from bright-eyed creatures who danced in the moonlight to secretive automatons who hid in the shadows. I hoped I never became one.
Bill Clinton suggested I take time to dance in the moonlight just so I wouldn’t become one of the drones.
The children grabbed hands and spun in a circle. A little girl noticed me. She giggled, an infectious sound that made me pause, and then she waved to me. I left my father’s side and grabbed her hand.
“What are you doing?” Father asked me. He stepped back as I almost tripped him. A gentle night breeze blew past, warming me. The elven children clenched my hands. Their faces were giddy, their cheeks rosy with the invigoration. They laughed, and though everything in the world seemed to weigh me down, I forgot it all, and I laughed, too.
When they finally broke apart, I crossed back to my father, who stood with the other elven parents under the awning. His eyes narrowed. “You’ve made a spectacle of yourself.”
“Yes, I know. But it’s better than the alternative.” I wouldn’t become one of those drones. I refused.
He raised an eyebrow, then led me toward the city’s main spire. His robes whooshed quietly. I wiped beads of sweat from my forehead, wishing I could have danced a little longer. How was it that children could so easily forget all their worries and live in the moment? I swore that someday that would be my life. Someday, I would live in a place where I could simply live and not worry about anything else. A tiny, nagging Albert told me it would never happen, but I tried my best to ignore him.
We passed shops and wide, sprawling libraries, most of them already closed for the evening. On my infrequent visits to Lauressa, I’d always found the place fascinating, with its tall towers and wide arches connecting them. Everywhere I looked I found order, a completely mapped-out space that only an idiot could get lost in. (And yes, I�
�d gotten lost on almost every visit.) This time at least, I could follow my father through the well-marked and brightly lit passages.
A crowd gathered as we arrived at the palace. We stood in line until we made it through the gate and into the main citadel. Shiny copper-colored tiles covered the large, open spaces inside the castle. Marble statues of past elven royalty decorated the rooms. Vines that reminded me of ivy grew along the walls, giving the palace a feeling of serenity. Pools of water ran along the floor and dropped into shallow waterfalls. The architect had kept the acoustics in mind when designing this place. Everywhere you went, you were sure to hear the calming sound of flowing water.
As we approached the main hall, smells of baked bread and spiced sauces greeted us. My mouth watered, and I realized how little I’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours.
At the end of a long hallway, twin oaken doors stood ajar. A steady flow of elves passed through. Most wore robes of dark, depressing colors and long hemlines.
We followed them through and entered a domed room. This space was evidence of elven architecture at its finest. The golden dome rose gracefully into the sky, allowing sunlight to pass through during the day and stray moonbeams to illuminate it at night. Fairies fluttered through the air. I noticed tiny fairy houses built artfully into the twelve pillars that surrounded the room. A circular table sat atop a raised dais in the center of the space. Long rectangular tables fanned out from the table in the middle, creating a sunbeam pattern with the table in the middle as the sun and the other tables as the sunrays.
The sun motif was evident throughout the room. Gold sunbursts had been worked into the tiles on the floor, into patterns on the marble and gold-leafed pillars, and all the way up to the top of the dome, where a sunburst glowed from its apex.
Father took a seat near the back, where a pillar overshadowed us, and where we were less likely to be noticed. Smart move on his part, as I’d already embarrassed him once this evening. Wouldn’t want it to happen a second time.
As we sat, servers appeared. They carried trays of food that they placed at each table. Each dish held a different representation of elven agriculture—a basket with breads made from stone-milled elven wheat, a saucer with candied fruit so sweet it made me pucker, sautéed vegetables, and plates of honey-glazed cakes.
I tried to remember the last time I’d eaten a genuine elven meal and came up short. Like everything they created, their food was perfection. I wondered how they managed to stay thin.
“There’s quite a gathering tonight,” Father remarked as he handed me a plate piled with food.
“Are there usually this many people at these dinners?”
“No, I’ve never seen such a crowd. I wonder if the high lord intends to make an announcement.”
We ate our food quietly. Heaven didn’t taste this good. I had the urge to eat as much and as fast as I possibly could, but I restrained myself, instead taking time to savor each bite.
From the doorway, a crowd of elves dressed in silver and white robes appeared, contrasting with the drab colors of the throng. The high lord I recognized by his headdress. He wore a round velvet cap. Layers of sheer fabric covered his wispy strands of white hair, leaving only his face uncovered. Silver thread had been woven into the fabric, creating a pattern of leaves and vines. The high lord’s family crest, a golden Gryphon, was stitched onto his robes and headdress.
The elven lord walked with an air of authority, although I noticed his shoulders were more stooped. He was old, even by elven standards.
We rose as the high lord stepped atop the dais. He waved at the crowd and smiled, though it looked strained. He offered a few solemn words of greeting, told us to enjoy the meal, and then sat.
“He’s late,” Father remarked as we took our seats. “This is very unusual.”
I glanced at the high lord, noticing he only took a small portion of food that he nibbled with arthritic fingers. “Is he well?” I asked Father quietly.
“Yes, he’s quite well.” Father snuck a quick look at the ruler and then turned back to me. “For someone of his age.”
The other elves took their seats around us. The VIPs filed in behind the ruler. They sat at the table in the center. I hadn’t paid much attention to them at first, but as the last few gathered in, my gaze snagged on the tall brute at the back, walking with a waif of an elven angel at his arm.
Kull had cleaned up. He wore dark leather pants, a tailored vest, and his slightly damp hair glowed in the fairies’ light. His hand was pressed to Euralysia’s back in a possessive way, as if to say, she’s mine, folks, keep your distance or I’ll break your skulls. She whispered something into his ear, and he smiled at her, a genuine, boyish grin that lit up his whole face. He’d never smiled at me like that before. And that’s when I realized what a delusion I’d lived in. Kull the Skullsplitter wasn’t for me. He never had been.
I pushed my plate away as hunger escaped me.
Ugh. I hadn’t expected this.
Kull and his bride-to-be took their seats at the round table near the high lord. Euralysia pushed her braided hair off her shoulder. She wore an artfully cut gown that left her neck and slim shoulders bare. The pearl-white fabric looked mirror smooth as it cascaded to the ground.
The first time I’d seen her, I’d gotten the impression she was a practitioner, a very powerful one. That feeling only increased as I looked on her tonight. Her beauty made a poor mask for her power, though I knew Kull couldn’t see it.
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