Age of Secrets: Druid's Brooch Series: #8

by Christy Nicholas

  The hall teemed with beings, Fae creatures of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Some so tall they almost touched the arching ceiling, a ceiling almost translucent, showing nonexistent clouds rolling across a fantasy sky. Others stood no taller than Fingin’s knee, and a few even smaller. Some appeared to be tree trunks or stone carvings, but they moved as he passed, betraying their true nature.

  An aisle formed as they approached the center dais. As the Fae pulled away from their progress, the figure upon a chair made from a living tree came into view. The chair had several tiny wrens flitting between the branches, and one rested on a large apple.

  Long black hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. Her skin shone like marble in the striking light, and her black eyes glittered with interest and shock.

  Though she appeared much younger than he’d ever seen her, Fingin didn’t doubt he stood before his grandmother. She appeared precisely as she had in his dream when he slept in Brigit’s home, what seemed so long ago.

  Beside her, almost an afterthought, sat a familiar form. The bullying Fae who had first greeted him stared from the smaller throne. His eyes fixed upon some imaginary point above their heads as if they did not deserve the honor of his regard. Behind him stood a young Fae, almost a boy, with snow-white skin and ink-black hair. This young Fae studied Fingin with eager delight.

  “Adhna? What do you bring me, Adhna? And Grimnaugh. I thought I sent you on a task.”

  Her voice resonated in Fingin’s bones, but he remembered that voice. It haunted his dreams and his recollections. The happiest memories of his childhood, and sometimes the scariest, had contained that voice.

  He wanted to step forward, to make certain she saw him, recognized him, but Adhna’s hand kept a firm grip on his shoulder. Instead, the tall Fae stepped up to answer her questions. “We have brought a traveler, Your Grace. A mortal man, here on a quest to find lost kin. We would like to request leave to assist him in his quest. Do we have your permission for us to commit our time for this purpose?”

  His grandmother, Queen Cliodhna of the Faerie Court, now deigned to notice him. He searched her eyes but found no recognition within them. His heart dropped when she didn’t acknowledge their kinship, but he knew he must say nothing. She held his life in her hands.

  “Dear Adhna. You often bring me the most intriguing gifts. But this lowly creature? Why should I allow you to waste time on this? The hound is handsome. I might keep him.”

  Fingin clenched his shoulders, unwilling to let her steal Bran.

  “We believe someone quite powerful sent the human, my Queen. Notice the charm.”

  Her eyes narrowed in sharp suspicion, and the fabric around his neck grew ice cold. He clapped his hand on the charm, and the entire assemblage gasped. Transfixed by her attention, he couldn’t move a muscle.

  “Yes, so I see. Powerful protector indeed. You may assist him, my dear Adhna. However, you know the law. He must pay for this assistance. I shall consider the wage. Perhaps I shall ask for his hound. Bring him back to me after the ball.”

  With a final cryptic stare at Adhna, she lifted a delicate hand. Her paralyzing regard shifted to the next petitioner, a spotted Fae with feline ears.

  Once her attention moved from him, the rictus in his body drained. He almost slumped to the floor in relief.

  Grimnaugh and Adhna hustled him through the milling bodies of Fae and away from the hall. Bran followed on their heels, almost tripping the taller Fae in his eagerness to escape.

  Once outside, Bran barked several times. “What did she mean? Is she going to take me? I don’t want to live in there. It smells too flowery.”

  Fingin focused on Bran to settle his own mind, petting his head. “Shh, Bran. No one is taking you against your will.”

  Grimnaugh made a noncommittal sound, and Adhna frowned. The shorter Fae said, “I don’t believe we can stop her if she wishes to keep the wolfhound. However, we can offer something else instead if she makes that her price.”

  Fingin shook his head, trying to make sense of the situation. “Can’t I just leave? That was, without doubt, my grandmother, but she didn’t even recognize me. It’s obvious my quest has failed.”

  Both Adhna and Grimnaugh shook their heads with vigor. The toadstool Fae made a rude noise. “She’s commanded us to return you after the ball. That is a command you dare not disobey, nor may we. We must deliver you upon pain of severe punishment.”

  Adhna nodded. “You do not wish to incur the Queen’s wrath. We must avoid her fury at all costs. Once did I brave her displeasure, and never again shall I risk such a strait.”

  “What did you do?”

  “That, young man, is something I cannot tell you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  From that point on, Adhna took Fingin under his wing to teach him how to dance. Grimnaugh took his leave, having his own preparations to make.

  As he stumbled a fifth time, Fingin whined. “Must I dance, Adhna?”

  “This is the Faerie Queen’s ball. Not only must you dance, you must dance well.”

  “How do we know I have to be there? She said after the ball, didn’t she?”

  Adhna narrowed his eyes. “We don’t. However, not to attend would be an insult. Do you wish to insult her?”

  Fingin let out a deep breath. “Show me the steps again. I’ll try not to step on your feet.”

  The complex interaction of dancers hadn’t been easy to learn with only two dancers, so Adhna recruited help once he’d taught the basic moves. Six more Fae arrived to help complete their set.

  “Please greet Gnathnad, Tomnat, Uasal, and Airiu.” Four females nodded in unison, their hair varying from white-blond to midnight dark. The last one, a young woman with a mischievous grin, winked at him. He flushed and glanced away.

  “Here, we have Cúán and Némán.” The two dark-haired men also nodded, but with grimmer expressions.

  They paired off into four sets. He paired Fingin with Airiu, and she flashed him another smile before they began. With slow claps, Adhna called out their movements.

  To his relief, he barely fumbled the complex steps in the first pass. However, just as they finished, he tripped over Airiu’s feet and fell on his side with a surprised grunt. Bran, who had been watching from the sides, let out a yip which Fingin could swear sounded more like a laugh.

  Airiu helped him to his feet.

  “Just let me guide you where you need to move. I know this dance well.”

  He shook his head. “While I don’t doubt you are an expert, you might not be with me at the ball. I must learn this for myself.”

  Her blue eyes flashed. “Would you deny my help, then?”

  He caught his breath, terrified of insulting yet another Fae. “By no means! I welcome your teaching, fair Airiu.”

  The Fae woman’s smile returned, and his heart beat faster. He wanted to keep her smiling.

  His world narrowed to the two of them, stepping through the complex dance once, twice, six times.

  Adhna declared victory. “This dance is done! We shall meet again for the next one after a meal and a rest.”

  Flushed from both his success and Airiu’s proximity, Fingin now paled at Adhna’s comment. “The next one? There are more?”

  All the Fae laughed, a cascade from a trickling brook across his ears. Tomnat said, “There are countless dances, human. We could teach you a new dance after every meal, and still you’d never learn them all. No human could hope to learn all the Faerie dances.”

  This set off another round of laughter, and Fingin’s skin grew warm with embarrassment. Airiu, however, held his hand. “Pay no mind to Tomnat. She enjoys tormenting humans.” She sent a sidelong glance to the other Fae, who grinned back. “Sometimes, she goes out to the mortal world just to ruin their lives for fun.”

  Ruin their lives. Had this quest ruined his life? His life had been empty. He’d fished, eaten, sold his goods, and slept. At least Bran had provided some much-needed companionship, someone to work toward
supporting. Since he’d embarked on this journey, he’d nearly died several times, mourned the loss of Bran at least once, and angered several Fae. He couldn’t tell if this marked an improvement over a listless life of no purpose or not.

  However, at the moment, sitting next to a lovely Fae woman with a kind heart and a quick smile, eating fruit and honey, he thought life might just have improved.

  Némán cleared his throat, and the side conversations grew quiet. He began to sing as they ate, a mournful song of love lost. Fingin had never heard such a splendid voice, the warmth of the notes caressing him like a warm wool blanket on an icy night. The tears pricked behind his eyes, and he surreptitiously wiped them away, horrified that Airiu might spy them.

  She smiled at him and touched his tear with a gentle finger, bringing it to her lips with a kiss.

  Fingin had never understood the tales of mad love, love that started with first sight, love that burned so bright within the heart it obliterated all concerns.

  Now, however, he had a glimmer.

  He swallowed, trying to think of something to say, anything at all. He forgot how words worked.

  Airiu bit into a red berry that might have been a strawberry, if it had grown in his old world. “Will you be in Faerie for long, Fingin?”

  Still unable to speak, he shrugged.

  “I hope so. Dancing with you has been lovely. I never danced with a mortal man before. You make funny faces when you make a mistake.” She giggled and smiled at him, her eyes dancing with mirth and delight.

  He wanted to repeat all the mistakes he’d ever made, just to make funny faces for her.

  Némán finished singing. The group sat in silence after the marvelous song. After several moments, Tomnat stood, gathering attention. “I would tell the story of tragic love, the only kind that lasts.”

  Airiu let out a snort, increasing Fingin’s affection for her. Tomnat seemed somewhat jaded toward the glorious possibilities of love. He’d been of the same opinion just the day before.

  Fingin studied Tomnat as she spoke her tale. Her voice carried across the clearing, strident with confidence. Curly dark hair tipped with green framed her face, and her skin glowed with the same hint of green. Her eyes flashed with intelligence and a good dose of cynicism. She reminded Fingin of his grandmother when he knew her as a human.

  The reminder of his grandmother as a Faerie Queen made his hot blood grow cold again. He shrank away from the assemblage to stew in his own misery.

  He needed to escape after the Faerie Queen exacted her payment for Grimnaugh’s and Adhna’s help. How ironic that their help had been for naught, as the person he wanted them to find was the Queen herself.

  Why had Brigit sent him on this quest? She must realize who his grandmother had become. Brigit had been friends with his grandmother and must realize she now ruled as a Faerie Queen. The tales told of at least five different Queens across the land of Faerie, perhaps more, but not so many that Brigit would miss one.

  He remembered the other part of the quest; to retrieve the magical brooch, the same brooch that allowed him to speak with Bran and other animals. His skin crawled with the notion he must take something from the Faerie Queen. He’d be lucky to escape Faerie with his life, much less with a magical artifact she surely kept close.

  He glanced at Adhna, munching on a large yellow fruit. Grimnaugh had rejoined the group to eat, and he spoke in low whispers to Tomnat. The Fae woman frowned, and she glanced toward Fingin. When she realized he watched her, she flashed him a seductive smile and then laughed. Her laugh had a cruel edge to it. He glanced away, embarrassed.

  How would he complete at least that part of his quest? He grasped Brigit’s charm, hoping for some inspiration.

  Airiu asked, “Why do you clutch at your chest, Fingin? Have you pain?”

  He released the pendant and shook his head. “No, but I have some decisions to make. Plans to make. I don’t know what to do. I was hoping for an answer.”

  “Why do you touch your chest for answers?”

  He chuckled, charmed by her question. “I have a charm given to me by someone I respect. I wished her wisdom might help me with my decision.”

  “Perhaps I can help you in her stead.”

  Asking a subject of the Faerie Queen to help him steal an object from the same Faerie Queen didn’t sound wise to him. That’s why he hadn’t told Adhna or Grimnaugh of this portion of his quest. To answer Airiu, he shook his head. “I need to figure this out for myself, but I thank you for offering. That’s kind of you.”

  However, once he completed his mission and satisfied Brigit’s quest, he meant to speak to Airiu at some length about her plans. Perhaps they included him. Perhaps he’d found someone he’d be happy with.

  * * *

  The not-quite-butterflies that swarmed outside Adhna’s cottage seemed to have taken residence within Fingin’s stomach. Bran whined. “Are you certain I can’t come to the ball? I’d rather stay with you. I don’t like some of those Fae. They smell strange.”

  “I’m certain. Grimnaugh thinks if the Faerie Queen doesn’t see you again, she’ll forget her desire to keep you. I don’t want to take that chance. You’re much safer here, in Adhna’s home. Promise me you’ll stay here?”

  Bran shifted from foot to foot. A bee buzzed around his head, and he snapped at it, but the bee flew away too fast to catch.

  Fingin picked at the edge of his new clothing, a length of fabric which wrapped around his hips and over his shoulder. Despite the brass pins which held it in place, he remained worried it would fall if he moved. The warm sunset colors blended into his skin. Airiu had told him he looked lovely, so he didn’t argue with the choice.

  Grimnaugh examined him from head to bare feet, making clicking noises as he went. “She has an idea, I can feel it. She will ask you for something big, and you must accept it. If not… well, I’m not sure what she’ll do. I am sure you won’t like it.”

  The walk to the palace seemed much shorter than it had the first time. Fingin’s nervousness grew as the towers loomed closer, the shadows becoming more ominous than before. Even the glittering pearlescence seemed to be a warning, a portentous flicker of certain doom.

  What would the Queen ask him for? In the back of his mind, he harbored the idea that his grandmother might recognize him at the last minute, and draw him into her arms for a familial hug. Another, more rational part scoffed at this idea. His grandmother had never been the nurturing type, given to long hugs and maudlin, sentimental gestures.

  The Fae they passed made no secret of staring at him. A mortal man, amongst the ethereal Fae, was a true novelty, even without his hound by his side. Each one dressed in superb finery, impossible costumes of shifting colors, translucent material, or soaring sculptures.

  One Fae, the one with black skin and white fur stripes, had donned an outfit with opposite stripes in varying shades of gray, from pale eggshell to deep stormcloud. Each shade swirled within its stripe, making Fingin dizzy as he watched it.

  The summer scent of flowers grew intense, almost overpowering. Flowers, fresh-cut grass, cloves, and ginger.

  Another Fae appeared, and Fingin recognized the bark-skinned bully who’d beaten him when he first arrived. This one glared at him, but Adhna kept a firm grip on Fingin’s shoulder and sent a warning glance at the other. With a disgusted noise, the bully stomped away behind a group of chatting onlookers.

  The center dais housed the thrones, but no Faerie Queen or Consort sat upon them. Fingin let out a breath of relief, though his fate was merely delayed, not reprieved. Adhna nodded to several Fae as they passed, but did not mingle or chat. Grimnaugh took leave of them and disappeared amongst the crowd.

  The general buzz of conversation shifted when Fingin passed them, the questioning tones increasing with the laughter. He did his best to ignore the obvious mocking tones. With every giggle or chuckle, he remembered his brothers’ taunting voices and the physical pain which always followed. He wished he’d been able to bring Bran
. The charm around his neck felt icy against his skin. He resisted the urge to grasp it for comfort.

  Silence flowed across the hall, and all eyes turned to the far end, where the Queen stood for all to see. She appeared resplendent in what appeared to be a structure of white ice and icicles, sparkling snow, and gossamer webs.

  Her Consort, the bark-skinned bully Fae, held her arm, escorted her across the translucent floor.

  How she moved without breaking the fine threads, Fingin couldn’t tell. She glimmered and glistened as she sauntered to her throne. Her midnight-black curls stood out in sharp contrast against the pure white, and her black eyes glittered against her pale skin.

  As her gaze cast around the room, they halted when they found Fingin. A small half-smile played across her berry-red lips. The bully Fae sat next to her on the second throne and glared at him, menace clear in his gaze.

  She clapped her hands twice, and all the Fae backed away, forming an empty aisle before her. Somewhere, musicians played ethereal music, sweet and compelling. Several Fae stepped forward to make their sets. Adhna shoved him forward. “Go. You must dance in the first dance. See, there is Tomnat. She’ll be your partner.”

  The brown-haired Fae woman matched him in height. As he placed his hands on hers for the opening set, she smiled. “Airiu said she liked you, human. Such a pity.”

  Before he could ask her to explain her comment, they launched into the dance, swirling and twirling amongst the Fae. He mostly kept up, only stumbling once or twice between the graceful Fae. The flowing fabric of his outfit merged with others as they turned, the swish of contact a pleasant counterpoint to the Fae music.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Airiu’s ebony hair, flowing against her back as she danced with a tall, thin Fae with spots. She winked at him as they passed, an ephemeral promise he kept close to his heart. Perhaps, after the ball, after the Queen made her payment known, he’d be permitted to talk with Airiu more. She might even be interested in talking to him.