by Hannah West
“Don’t cut them,” Mercer said. “The fair folk won’t take kindly to that.”
“Fair folk?” the other three of us echoed.
“Fay,” he said. “Fairies.”
A bubbling laugh with a touch of malevolence danced through the wood. One of the vines slithered around my neck. My every instinct told me to rip it away, but Mercer said, “Stay calm. If we don’t put on a show, they’ll get bored and set us free. I think.”
A clean whistle bit through the birdsongs. Far from perturbed by the sentient vines, the horse circled around and trotted back the way he’d come. When a vine decided to slide across my eyes, I couldn’t take it any longer. I thrashed violently.
“Mercer Fye.” At the sound of the melodic but thistly male voice, the creeping vines relented. “You’re punctual.”
VEN when the vines fell slack, disencumbering myself turned out to be no easy feat. The skirmish ripped off the bandage covering my stitched wound, which started it throbbing again.
Finally, I wriggled my lower half free of the entrapment and turned my attention to our host. He was a tall man, even taller than Mercer, and slender, with tapered ears and cunning eyes the color of murky green lake water. His long hair was ash blond in the shadows and gold as honey in the light, and the veins that corded his sinewy frame were deep green rather than blue or purple. He wore a loose-woven rugged green tunic and robe.
“Forgive me, friend. I do not know your name as you know mine.” Mercer took a wary step that positioned him between the newcomer and the rest of us.
“Theslyn,” the stranger replied, petting the horse’s muzzle. The animal leaned into his touch. “I’m here to welcome you. But the mortal will not be allowed to enter without drinking the nectar. And you all must bathe.”
“Where are we?” I asked. My voice seemed loud.
“You’ll never be able to find it again, so the name matters not.”
“The hidden fay dwelling,” Mercer answered. “Wenryn.”
With the edge of a smile on his face, Theslyn turned and started forward.
“Are we in danger?” I whispered to Mercer as we followed him.
“The fay are complicated creatures, but they’re not treacherous. We’re not in physical danger.”
“What other kind of danger is there?”
“I would urge you to relax, Lady Braiosa,” Theslyn said. “The nectar works best when one is receptive to it.”
“I’m merely confused,” I replied. “The fay are supposed to be extinct. I know many descendants, fairies who perform simple charms, but…”
“We fair folk have our ways of lingering in the ancient places.”
“But…why are you showing yourselves to us?”
“We are flowers that bloom in the night,” he said over his shoulder. “For only the stars to see.”
Mercer’s eyes narrowed to slits.
“Did my grandmother come here? Juniper Braiosa?” I asked.
“The more questions you ask, the less they’ll tell you,” Mercer said in a low voice.
We came upon a meadow bordered by gigantic trees. The other five horses that had escaped from the blights grazed alongside speckled deer.
“Have you happened to see a large deerhound?” I asked Theslyn, considering for the first time that Calanthe might have been set loose rather than stolen. “Gray, female?”
“I regret to say no,” he responded, but he didn’t sound invested in her fate. “Did you lose her?”
“She was taken, I think,” I said darkly.
“It’s clear you’ve seen difficult times. Here, you have no choice but to lay aside your burdens.”
Mercer’s eyes shot to mine. It wasn’t exactly a warning look along the lines of Let’s take him down and get the blazes out of here, but it communicated a level of distrust, which made me restless as we drew near a stream.
Theslyn approached a twisted tree with a wooden spout tucked into one of its many folds. Beneath the spout sat a wide wooden bowl filled with a sticky orange liquid. He dipped a dainty ladle shaped like a leaf into the tree nectar and turned his clever eyes on Kadri. A hard green hope ripened in the back of my mind. Could this ancient magic do as much for her as a Healer?
He brought the ladle to Kadri and, without even the dawn of a question on her lips, she let him tip the nectar into her mouth. She drank deeply, gripping the handle to serve herself at her own pace, until Theslyn laughed and said, “Don’t be hasty, my delicious darling. A little will restore the color to your cheeks. But too much will poison you with happiness, which you will miss after you leave. The ache inside would be too great to bear.”
“Valory,” Mercer said, beckoning me forward. “You’re next.”
“You three will be given some later,” Theslyn said. “It will cloud your minds, and your minds must be keen.”
“For what?” I asked.
“I’m afraid we must be going,” Mercer said firmly, clasping Kadri’s hand to pull her along. She looked thoughtful and dazed. The blush in her cheeks rushed back like a blooming flower.
“I’m afraid you can’t be going,” Theslyn said. Other green-clad figures stepped out from the trees, all of them tall with tapered ears and ash-blond hair. I thought of Ellen, who was a tad plump and rather short, like the other fairy descendants I knew. Those with enough pronounced magic wielded wands made of wood from the forest. These full-blooded fairies looked nothing like them and carried no wands, and that alone unnerved me. As they were surrounding us, the disparity made me feel nothing short of threatened.
But Mercer didn’t seem prepared to resist. He only frowned.
“Rynna, they’re all yours,” Theslyn said.
A woman with waist-length hair and freckles stepped forward. The netted green garment that clung to her body was even more artfully arranged to hide the essentials than the pink-and-silver confection Glisette had worn to the banquet in Beyrian. Her veins were green like Theslyn’s, though slightly fainter, and there was something feline about her features. She approached Kadri and swept my friend’s dark hair behind her shoulder. “The sickness is still within her,” she said, pressing her thumb fearlessly to the unhealed sore. “She’ll need more nectar, or Malyrra will expel her.”
“Malyrra?” I said, unable to resist despite Mercer’s warning. “My grandmother went looking for Malyrra. Did she come here? Juniper Braiosa?”
“You know what will happen if I give her more,” Theslyn said to Rynna with an arch of a fair brow, ignoring me.
“And I know what will happen if you don’t,” Rynna said. Her green eyes were as sharp as skewers.
“What will happen?” I asked.
“The same thing that’s already happening,” Theslyn answered. “She’ll die. The nectar will save her, but at a cost.”
I bit my lip as Theslyn slid the ladle through the nectar again. He gave it to Rynna, who brought it to Kadri’s lips. Unlike Theslyn, Rynna didn’t take the ladle until Kadri had emptied it. The sore on her neck became nothing but a scar.
A dense brick of fear in my chest cracked, crumbled to grains, and blew away. But there were still enough bricks inside me to build a wall. What had happened to Grandmum? Did she make it to the fay dwelling? Was she here now?
Rynna gave the cup back to Theslyn and began unlacing the neck of Kadri’s tunic. “What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Undressing her to bathe,” Rynna answered.
Kadri giggled and stumbled sideways a step. Rynna righted her with traces of an amused smile. This drunken, tittering version of her brought out by the nectar only made me miss the healthy and sharp Kadri even more. But at least it would wear off…the blight disease wouldn’t have.
Rynna slipped off Kadri’s tunic. Mercer had the manners to look away, but as another fay woman approached to work off his clothes, I nearly lost my own sense of decorum. “Can I go downstream?” he asked.
“Human men are so high-minded,” the woman replied, beckoning him along in answer to his request. “
So protective and possessive of the womenfolk. It’s part of what makes you fun to play with, that bashful nature….”
“Lyssa…” Rynna warned, leading Kadri into the stream. “Malyrra wants to see them. You can play with them after.”
Glisette set down Kadri’s bow and quiver and undressed herself, more excited to bathe than she was nervous to lay down weapons and disrobe around strangers. She stepped into the stream without needing to be ushered. Meanwhile, Rynna handed Kadri off to Theslyn and approached me. “Come try the water, my dark little duckling,” she said, cupping my face as she towered over me. Her scent was flowery and earthy and ancient. I sent a glance to the untended weapon beside me. “The weapons will be yours again when you leave,” she added.
Resigned, I began unlacing my tunic with my right hand. Rynna noticed the wound on my left but said nothing and let me be. When I stepped into the water, which was just cool enough to refresh but not shock, I surrendered completely, using an aromatic leaf to scrub myself clean. Seeing me peel back the bandage to look at my swollen, leaking wound, Rynna returned to force it under the water, scrubbing it vigorously, as though the stitches didn’t exist, or as though she didn’t care that they did. I bit back a cry and snatched away, slipping on the mossy rocks underfoot.
“You have to be clean, and that’s infected,” she insisted, but she massaged my hand with more care now. “I’m sorry,” she added. “It’s been a long time since I felt pain.”
She gave me light brown linen undergarments and an open-weave green dress that clung to my body like a nightgown. I tried to wriggle down the jagged front hem, which ended at my thighs while the back cascaded to my bare ankles.
I joined the other three, who had been lent variations of the same materials, and we followed Theslyn upstream into a haven bursting with flowers. Knotted trees formed hollow, earthy dwellings with curtains of vines strung across their entrances. Fern-green eyes watched us from every nook and shadow, and the grass was as soft as fur between my bare toes.
“You look nothing like the fairies I know,” I said to Theslyn.
“Fay and humankind were not always fond of each other,” Theslyn replied. I found myself glancing at Mercer, who wore a frigid expression. “Each side frowned upon copulation between fay and humans, but ours less so. Those of us who dabbled learned to choose the humans whose traits would cover our tracks: short, rotund, plain. That way, our mixed offspring did not face the danger of being murdered or abandoned in the woods when humans suspected fairy blood. Over time, the fairy magic became diluted enough that humans began to accept the species they knew to be ‘fairies’ and forgot those of us who lurk in the deep wood.”
I thought of the captive redheaded fairy the Moth King had sent to Ambrosine. Tilmorn had said she was full-blooded, but I wondered if that had been a lie.
Rynna stepped out from a cavern at the base of one of the ancient trees. “Malyrra will see them now,” she said. “But leave the foreign girl with me. She can barely stay upright.”
Kadri hiccupped in response, and again I noticed the genesis of a smile on Rynna’s face. I didn’t like it. I couldn’t decide whether the expression was amused or predatory.
“I’ll go with her,” Glisette muttered before following Rynna. “I think you two are the guests of honor.”
“They’ll be fine,” Mercer whispered, nudging me along as Theslyn beckoned us into the maw of the tree, where steps led to a mossy pedestal that looked a bit like a throne.
On the throne sat Malyrra, whose hair was as white as winter snow on a clear day, her skin the color of the tree that sheltered her. One of her eyes was dewdrop-blue, the other burnished gold. She didn’t look like an old woman, but by the dignity of her presence I knew she was centuries older than what even the oldest elicromancer I personally knew would call young.
“Malyrra survived Emlyn Valmarys’s first reign,” Theslyn said. “We fairies change with every season, and from day to night, like nature itself. When he laid waste to the fields and forests, it confounded her faculties. She can only live in the trees and close to the earth, where her body and spirit do not have to fight as hard to adapt to changing conditions.”
A warm, pleasant breeze swirled in the mouth of the cavern. Both of Malyrra’s eyes flickered green before turning blue and gold once more, though this time on opposite sides. Old folklore did say fairies changed with the seasons, their skin darkening in the summer while their eyes became the color of a bluebell. In autumn their hair turned fiery red, and some people still teased redheaded children, calling them the fruits of the fairy autumn harvest celebrations. Pulling their hair was said to bring good luck.
Malyrra shifted on her throne and spoke in the old tongue.
“I will speak for her,” Theslyn said. “She doesn’t know your language.”
“Does she know my grandmother?” I asked, desperate for answers.
Malyrra spoke again, and Theslyn translated. “She came here recently,” he said. “We told her what her kind had awoken. And then she left without drinking the nectar. She did not say where she was going.”
“Why did she come to you?” I asked. “How did she know you were here?”
“The elders of Darmeska can be trusted,” Theslyn answered on his own. “They know enough of our history to respect our secrets and ways. Your questions, though, will tire Malyrra.”
I sealed my lips. Malyrra began again, her tone hollow and dark.
“‘Emlyn Valmarys was my grandson,’” Theslyn translated.
Mercer and I turned to each other in awe.
“‘His mother was a fairy,’” Theslyn went on, speaking over her as he translated. “‘His father was an elicromancer. The union of an elicromancer and a fairy was entirely unheard of…the power that child would wield could destroy kingdoms. But my daughter fell in love with an elicromancer. Even we fairies, who do not judge, tried to stop her. She hid her pregnancy for several moons, then made herself scarce in the woods and gave birth alone. She brought the child to our dwelling here and was never seen again. Perhaps she knew what she had done. The father was executed by his own kind.’”
Malyrra paused and resituated herself. I sensed a deep ache in her bones, in her very marrow.
“‘We knew we could not keep the child,” Theslyn continued. “‘We do not have many rules. We live within the framework of nature. We respect it. But otherwise, we are a whim-driven folk. We knew that if we could find an elicromancer who would accept Emlyn and hide his secret, he could be trained and learn to restrain his power. We found a man and woman, elicromancers who agreed to take him and raise him as their own in seclusion, to keep him away from the source of all elicrin power and help him practice control.
“‘But not so many years later, the rumors penetrated the woods. We heard of a man who called himself Lord of Elicromancers, a man who indiscriminately murdered creatures of every species. A dark feeling pierced my soul. I knew that it was Emlyn.
“‘Elicromancers and mortals made many attempts to vanquish him. They did not succeed until they struck the bargain with sea witches. The time-walker arrived and rescued the one the elicromancers had chosen to sacrifice.’” Her shifting eyes landed on Mercer. “‘She made a sacrifice out of the elicromancer leader, disemboweled him, tied his innards in knots as he suffered. To complete the contract, the time-walker had to penetrate Emlyn’s lair. We hid in the wilds to protect our own, but she found us and sought our help.
“‘We sent three of our own as fairy slaves to be traded for reward. The time-walker posed as a traitor to her elicromancer kind. Together they won him over, and the fairy “slaves” prepared a feast, disguising the innards as food for Emlyn and his men. The sea witch magic took hold immediately, and Emlyn and his servants became like stone, trapped around their banquet table. Their mountain court became a tomb.’”
My mouth dropped as Theslyn and Malyrra spoke. Callista had done what needed to be done—what we’d asked of her and far more. Malyrra’s voice seemed to scratch o
ver the text of my history books, scrawling horrid details in the margins of the pages that boasted of my forebears’ heroics.
“‘Afterward, elicromancers cleared mortals’ memories of Emlyn’s atrocities. They hid the contract in his lair and set traps to thwart anyone who sought it. I vowed that, should Emlyn ever rise again, my people would help end his reign forever. And that is why we have taken you in, and your grandmother before you. You are welcome here. It is a safe place, for the time being, and our nectar heals wounds inside and out.’”
Once she finished speaking in Old Nisseran, Malyrra’s eyes fluttered closed. Theslyn touched the back of her hand with his long, slender fingers. “She needs rest now.”
“Thank you for helping us,” I said, with a slight bow. Mercer said nothing and left the tree dwelling without another word.
“Make yourselves at home,” Theslyn said to me, watching Mercer with an impassive expression. “Eat and drink anything you wish, and go anywhere you like. But don’t drink too much of the tree nectar or you will regret it.”
“Thank you,” I repeated, and followed Mercer into the sunlight, my thoughts reeling. The fairies were minding their own business, some picking fruits as others arranged them on massive platters. Some wove clothing, and some carried laundry from the streams and hung it on branches to dry. They were busy, but also unhurried, free of worry or strain.
“You might have shown her a touch of respect,” I said, catching up to Mercer. “She wants to help us.”
“Her kind retreated to safety while Valmarys tortured and killed thousands of innocent people, even though he was one of them. They hid in their haven while the rest of us kept fighting to keep this realm from perishing at his hand, while others designed a plan to take him down. The fay are selfish and capricious and have no sense of responsibility.”
“I think they do, but…just different from ours,” I said. “If their calling is to maintain a place like this—to refuse to let darkness and human ambition and evil touch this little pocket of the world—who’s to say that’s not a noble cause? It’s certainly proved useful for us. And they helped Callista…finish things,” I added euphemistically.