Beautiful Secrets: The Complete Trilogy

by Marie Robinson

  I tilted my head back to look at her. “How did you find this place?”

  “Master Puck found me,” she began, before a knock banged at the door of the caravan before Master Puck himself opened the door, sticking in his antlered head with a grin.

  “Great news,” the fae announced, oblivious to the moment he’d interrupted. “Mrs. Saren has convinced Master Pittock to break out the fiddles and throw a proper party!” He frowned as he saw our tear streaked faces. “It seems a party is exactly what you two need.” He looked back out into the yard before letting out a whoop. “And the wine casks have arrived. Come on, you two!”

  He left as quickly as he appeared and we let out shuddery laughs. If they were still a bit watery, we ignored it.

  She looked at me and shook her head. “You can’t go to a party dressed in jeans, daughter.” She shooed me out of the bench table. “Come on, I’ve got a dress you can wear. Let’s see if we can make that Lycan of yours blush.”

  Chapter 7

  Eleanora

  Stepping back out of my mother’s caravan was like being transported yet again to another world. When we had first arrived, it had seemed like any traditional traveler’s camp. People had been working, cooking, or mending while the children assisted or played. There had been laughter, but it was of a studious kind, the laugh you have when you’re focused on your task at hand.

  Now, though, the sky had darkened and a purple moon began to rise above the horizon. Brilliant stars shown in the inky sky, and I couldn’t recognize any constellations. My hand flew to my chest as, suddenly, a handful of the stars flew away in swirls, and I realized some weren’t stars at all. The brilliant creatures danced through the sky, as if they were ballerinas performing to the music of the crowd filling the clearing.

  Fiddles, drums, and bagpipes weren’t the only instruments in the symphony of the night. Laughter, squeals, and joy deepened the music, making it fuller, more bodied, and nearly tangible. It was addicting, the simple feeling of joy and camaraderie permeating the area. I felt myself smiling, excitement thrumming through me.

  This would not be like any of the parties with the Syndicates, where political maneuvers were being made. Or at least, none that I was concerned about. I searched out Romulus, and found the Lycan towering over a group of seated children, pantomiming a fight with Master Puck. The children squealed with laughter as Master Puck dramatically portrayed his death. The man threw his head back and howled with victory and the children applauded with zeal.

  “Avenge me, children!” Master Puck cried out over their cheers, his arms flung skyward. The cheers turned to cries of battle as suddenly they rose and threw themselves at Romulus with shrieks of laughter.

  “Wait—no—” Romulus was helpless against the onslaught of their so-called attack, and he was quickly overwhelmed as they piled onto him.

  I felt my mother’s arm come around my shoulder and I leaned into her. I doubted I’d ever get my fill of her comfort.

  “I never thought I’d see the day when children played with a lycan,” she mused, and I cocked my head as I watched him with the other fae.

  “Perhaps it’s because he’s a descendant of the first one,” I replied. “His family was given the gift by Dóite, rather than cursed.”

  “Really now?” She looked at me as if that changed many things. And perhaps, here in Tír na nÓg, it did. “It would certainly explain why the parents have no reservations of their offspring playing with him. The gift of Dóite is a boon, and even here in this realm we know of the stories of the fiercely loyal and protective Connacht clan. You have done well, daughter mine.”

  “I can’t wait for you to meet Brom and Merlin,” I said fondly. “They’re just as amazing. Though Merlin is rather rough around the edges. I sort of like that though.”

  “Ladies! You’ve decided to grace us with your presence!” Master Puck shouted as he leaped from his back to his hooves. Romulus looked towards us, three fae children sitting on his back, with a wild grin on his face.

  He gave a playful growl and shook the children off of him; they fell off with laughter and he bounded over to us.

  “All right then, mo chroi?” he asked, planting his hands on his hips. I nodded and looked to my mom, who pushed me gently towards him.

  “Let’s go find something to eat,” she instructed, and I let Romulus slip my arm around his.

  “Speaking of that,” I hazarded, “nothing untoward will happen if we eat here?”

  “You were invited.” Master Puck supplied the answer as he appeared at my mother’s side, offering his arm to her. “And the food and drink being shared tonight is being given freely. Or, if you must offer something in trade to satisfy the fae, we only ask that you promise to enjoy yourself to your best ability with no hidden conditions.”

  Romulus and I shared a look and he shrugged. “We may as well, Ella. At this point we’ve already accepted their hospitality. It would be rude to refuse, and a snubbed fae can be quite dangerous.”

  “Oh yes,” my mother agreed, nodding emphatically. “You know the tale of Sleeping Beauty?” At my nod, she continued. “The supposed evil fairy was really just a fairy the king and queen had decided not to invite. It went against expectations and traditions, which is why she cursed the child. Had they invited her, or at least apologized for the oversight when she arrived, she would have given the child a gift. Perhaps not as bountiful a blessing as the others who received an invite, but it would not have been such a devious curse.”

  “The poor child still sleeps, awaiting the ones who are meant to break the curse,” Master Puck said mournfully. “Since there were three fairies to alter the curse, and so now there must be three to break the curse.”

  “That sounds horrible! How long has she been cursed?”

  “Hundreds of years, I would wager,” Master Puck guessed. “But don’t fret. The woman sleeps and is not aware of the passage of time. And she is here in this world, so she has many friends to visit her in her dreams. She’s learned to become quite a mage actually.”

  That reminded me of my own quest to master my abilities. We had reached the side of the clearing where many tables were pushed together, laden with all sorts of food. It looked familiar enough, even if the colors were odd. What looked like a roasted chicken was a bright orange, and the vegetables were nearly glowing. Even the wine in the goblets seemed to sparkle with entire universes.

  Those gathered at the table greeted us with cheers and began passing us plates and pitchers. It was what I had always wanted, and no one seemed to even notice the scars on my face. We accepted the strange and enchanting food and passed it along down the line. Doing so, I saw that there were various sorts of fae gathered. Elves, fairies, nymphs, dwarves, and creatures I didn’t know the name of. But many of them had something in common and I realized why none cared about my scars.

  “Brookshire is a haven for those who have experienced pain.” Master Puck’s voice was soft but I heard him clearly enough. I looked across the table at him where he and my mother sat, understanding filling me. “Sometimes it is by the Children of Adam and Eve; sometimes it is by more powerful fae. But no matter the source of their injury, Brookshire has been always a home to them.”

  “Are they cast out of their own homes?” I asked, shocked. Madam Jupiter had only demanded that I remained veiled. Even she would not have cast me out of the house… or perhaps she would have had she been able to. It was unsettling.

  “Oh, not all,” Master Puck said after sipping his wine. He gestured to mine and I carefully took a sip. It was sweet and crisp, tasting of summertime, the rush of pleasure, and the brush of a lover’s hand. He grinned at my reaction before becoming somber once again. “The fae have exacting standards of beauty; it is directly correlated to their power. To become injured or scarred is to become imperfect, which means their power is now flawed. It is simply the way of our kind. So, more often than not, it is personal desire to leave which brings the fae to Brookshire. Here, they have made a fam
ily with others like themselves.”

  “They seem so happy,” I said, likely being rude as I let my gaze travel down the table. I was fascinated and enthralled. I slowly ate as I watched families laugh together and everyone jostle each other in fun.

  “You could have a place here, Eleanora,” Master Puck offered, his voice more serious than I had heard since we arrived. I felt Romulus still beside me, his cup raised halfway to his mouth. Master Puck’s eyes moved to the lycan’s before looking back at me. “You are a child of Suanach Aoife. She is a very powerful fae, and her power sings in your blood. You are not a mere mortal.”

  “Her power is what caused my scars,” I said, pushing the food around on my plate with the wooden fork. The wooden cutlery had thrown me at first, until I remembered the tales of iron harming the fae. “I came here in hopes of mastering that power, so I could safely live in the mortal world. I had hoped my mother could help me with that.”

  I looked over to her and she gave me an understanding smile, but she dropped her eyes to her plate. “There is a way, Ella, but it is not easy. And, I admit I was not brave enough to do so. Not even to return to you and Thaddius.”

  “Is it really that bad?” Romulus asked for me as I stared at my mother. She could have returned and she’d been too cowardly? We hadn’t been worth it?”

  “Suanach Aoife’s power was caused by pain.” Master Puck sighed and reached for a carafe and refilled our goblets. “She . . . She’s not a fae like me, or even the king and queen. She gave herself over to the fire. She is the fire, now. Her desire is to consume the mortal world, in vengeance for the pain caused to her. It has only grown stronger over time. Ella”—he looked to me—“if you have a child, their struggle will be more than yours. And if they have a child, theirs even more so. The longer the fire rages without control, the brighter it burns. Left unchecked, she will consume the world.”

  “But I can master it?” I had to believe this had all been worth it. That I was more than a vessel of destruction. I looked between him and my mother and their grim expressions.

  “You can try,” she answered at last. “There is a ritual that we can perform. It will send you to Suanach Aoife herself. But the risk is great”—she reached over, grasping my hand tightly—“and no one has ever done it. Our line typically dies young. My own mother died shortly after my birth. Suanach Aoife will burn everything out of you until your very essence is revealed to her, and if she finds you wanting she will consume you with no guilt.”

  Even when there are no good choices, you still have to choose. My mother’s words. She had chosen to live, rather than risk near certain death.

  “I live here,” she continued, “because if I were to return to the mortal world I would not be able to control the fire. Here, I was able to live. To see your father when he was able to visit. To hope that one day I would see you again.”

  If I stayed here . . . I wouldn’t see Brom or Merlin ever again. Nor Bonnie, or Hei-Sook, or even Beatrice. I looked up at Romulus, whose face was etched in pain. I could never ask him to stay with me here, and he knew it. But if I stayed, I would have my mother. I would have freedom, and safety, with no Syndicates moving against me.

  I slipped my hand over Romulus’s on the table, and looked to Master Puck. “I need to try.”

  My mother closed her eyes, turning away, but not before I saw the sheen of tears. Master Puck raised his glass to me.

  “Then eat, drink, and be merry. Because tomorrow you will meet the phoenix.”

  Chapter 8

  Eleanora

  “Did you know”—Master Puck pointed at a laughing Romulus with his goblet, the wine sloshing over the side—“that I entertained this one when he was but a wee little boy?”

  “No!” I exclaimed as I turned to my lover with an amused shock.

  We had done exactly what the fae had suggested. We had eaten our fill of our host’s food, and indulged in the wine. We followed the others towards the fire which roared in the center of the area, where musicians had picked up their instruments once more. Revelers leaped around the fire with glee, spinning and twirling each other in a dizzying dance. My mother had drifted off to speak with her friends, and I had found myself eagerly listening to Master Puck’s stories.

  Romulus choked on the wine he’d been drinking, sputtering before glaring at the fae. “No,” was all he said, with a stern look at the creature.

  “Now I’m really intrigued.” I cackled, slightly drunk on the wine, at the man’s look.

  “Traitor!” he cried, but Master Puck had already grabbed my attention.

  “I like to check up on the Connacht line,” he said, leaning forward as if sharing a great secret. “And what did I find on my last trip? This young pup with his first set of dancing shoes. Of course, being the lover of mischief I am, I offered to teach him to dance.”

  I blinked as I thought about the way we’d danced together, slightly horrified of the fae dancing with Romulus as a child. Master Puck had a wicked grin on his face as he sat back in his seat.

  “Irish dancing, of course,” he clarified, and I put my hand to my head, shaking it gently.

  “That makes so much more sense,” I admitted. “So,” I turned to Romulus, who had a petulant look on his face. “You can step dance?”

  “Can he step dance?” Master Puck didn’t allow Romulus to answer as he leaped to his hooves and struck a pose. “Master Romulus is the best step dancer to grace the Connacht line in generations.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake.” The man groaned into his hands before looking up at me, pleadingly. “Don’t ask me to dance.”

  I pouted.

  “Come, my protege, let us have a battle,” the fae challenged. It seemed others had heard him as well and a cheer went around the crowd.

  “I don’t have the proper shoes,” Romulus tried to argue. But a small fae, a brownie I think, snapped her long spindly fingers and Romulus’s boots were replaced with shoes with soft leather toes with shiny metal on the bottom. The lycan stared at his new shoes with resigned defeat.

  I was immensely proud of myself for not letting my laughter escape, but I couldn’t help the smile on my face. Then again, I’d been smiling nearly constantly since the beginning of this party so hopefully he wouldn’t take offense.

  Already, a dance floor was being conjured just in front of the musicians, and the children were gathering, excitement clear on their faces.

  Romulus looked at me forlornly. “Promise to still respect me in the morning?”

  I threw my head back with laughter and shooed him towards the dance floor where Master Puck was now waiting. “Only if you win!”

  Romulus pulled off his sweater and handed it to me but stopped at Master Puck’s tsking.

  “I’ve not a shirt on, lad,” he said, cocking his head to the side before giving me a wink. “It’s not fair if you’re wearing yours as well. Give these lasses a show.”

  Romulus pursed his lips like he was going to make a fuss, but pulled his shirt off too—tossing it at me as the women howled and whistled at him. When I gave an enthusiastic whistle, he rolled his eyes at me, shaking his head the entire time he walked to the dance floor.

  My mother took the seat beside me and we watched with eager glee as the two dancers stood across the platform from each other.

  I leaned towards my mother. “What about Master Puck’s shoes?”

  She leaned back as she answered. “His hooves work well enough. You’ll see.”

  Master Puck nodded towards the fiddlers—one elf with a long scar down his face, a dryad with autumn leaves for hair, and a jolly-looking gnome whose fiddle was nearly the same size as him.

  As one, they brought their bows to the strings and the crowd fell into a hushed silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire to the side. The light from the flames danced across the two competitors, and damn if I didn’t appreciate Romulus’s beauty. From the other appreciative looks, I wasn’t the only one finding the lycan’s broad muscular chest gaze-wort
hy.

  The lycan and fae stared at each other with a seriousness I recalled from the challenge circle during the masquerade ball. I felt my heart beat harder with each moment of silence, and the entire atmosphere grew tense as we all waited with anticipation.

  The drag of the bow across the fiddle strings rent the air, slicing the anticipation and launching them into the battle. Romulus and Master Puck stood ramrod straight, but their arms were held out to their sides as if considering embracing each other. Puck inclined his head towards Romulus, and when the fiddlers began the jig in earnest, Romulus leaped upwards.

  He came down just as the musicians changed notes, as if he’d timed it perfectly, and his feet flew beneath him. His upper body stayed stiffly upright as he kicked his legs out, his knees flying towards his chest before his feet came back down, stomping the metal plates against the wooden floor. It was mesmerizing to watch and it seemed as if the lycan’s feet moved of their own volition, whipping back and forth with dizzying speed. He began to move towards Puck, who crossed his arms in amusement, dancing faster and harder until he finished with a loud stomp and threw his arms out in a flourish.

  I cheered along with the rest of us, clapping hard as Puck nodded in acknowledgement of Romulus’s skill. I clasped my hands together under my chin as I watched the fae for his response.

  Rather than leaping upward, the fae spun in a circle, his hooves clattering against the wooden floor in a chaotic but hypnotizing beat. He danced forward towards Romulus, forcing the lycan back towards his original side of the floor.

  Romulus, however, didn’t let his challenge stand ground for long as he began dancing once more.

  It was astounding, the sounds of their feet clacking against the wood with such precision and skill. Even the music trailed off and we were left only with the sound of their step dancing. They moved around each other, their kicks and steps so seemingly random I feared they’d hit one another.