Blood of the Fey (Morgana Trilogy)

by Alessa Ellefson

  “You can go ahead,” I say. “I can get back there on my own when I’m ready.”

  With an elegant pout, she sits on the ground by the throne instead. “Don’t tempt me,” she says. “There are thousands of Fey out there that would pounce on the chance to kill you if they could.” She lets out a sad sigh. “But if something were to happen to you now, Lugh would flay me.”

  I delicately pull the dress down over my shoulders, fearful of ripping it. The fabric is so light it barely feels like I’m wearing anything at all.

  “I feel so very naked,” I say as Blanchefleur combs my hair roughly before adjusting a diadem in it.

  “You could remove it if you want,” she says, all serious. “A lot of us like to go in our God-given attire without shame.”

  “I’ll pass,” I say.

  A tiny creature buzzes over to land in her hair, a soft light emanating from its chest like that of a lightning bug. I nearly go cross-eyed as I watch the tiny, humanlike Fey reach up to Blanchefleur’s ear.

  “A pixie,” I whisper, afraid to scare it away.

  Without realizing it, I’m leaning forward, close enough that my nose nearly touches Blanchefleur’s cheek.

  “Careful, they bite.”

  I pull away quickly as the tiny creature flies away, like a giant bumblebee. Honestly, does everything pretty here hide fangs? My stomach responds by growling so loudly it scares the cat away.

  “Let’s get going, shall we?” Blanchefleur says, directing me back to the party. Noting my hesitance, she adds, “Don’t worry. Didn’t I say Lugh is watching over you?”

  Yeah, I tell myself, and that’s what troubles me.

  Pixies whizzing in the air around us like tiny shooting stars, we make our way back to the clearing. This time, people are paying attention to me, willing, even, to invite me to dance with them.

  As we pass by the buffet, I steal a couple of pears and a dozen tarts, then munch away happily as I take in the scene.

  As the moon crests over the oak tree, the air thickens with the scent of roses and jasmine, and the music slows down to a spellbinding pace. My head starts to bob along with it, my food forgotten.

  “Would you care to join me?”

  The tall Fey prince, Lugh, is at my side, the cat in his arms. Both stare at me with pairs of identical amber eyes.

  “To dance, you mean?” I ask.

  Lugh gently lets cat down. “Keep an eye out for me, will you?” he says before the creature scurries away.

  Then, with a smile, he offers me his hand and leads me within the circle of dancers.

  Just think about where you step, I tell myself over and over again. Don’t let your eyes roam anywhere lower than his philtrum,24 and no higher than the tip of his nose.

  “So do you remember me now?” he asks, his voice sending shivers down to the very marrow of my bones.

  “Yes, charmed, charmed,” I say, fixating now on his perfectly smooth chin.

  Lugh gives a low chuckle and twirls me about. I trip, nearly losing my pretty new shoes, but he steadies me with his strong hands, and we continue as if nothing’s happened.

  “The first time we met,” he says, drawing me closer.

  I’m forced to look up or have my head crushed against his broad chest, and find myself caught in his steady gaze like a mouse by a snake, a very lovely snake at that; it’s no wonder Eve faltered. I shake myself.

  “Drowning, yes,” I say. “It was quite…wet.”

  I blush all the way down to my toes.

  “That’s usually one of its outcomes,” Lugh says.

  “But I thought…” I stop myself from saying Arthur’s name. I’ve been very good at not thinking about the git since I’ve gotten here, I’m not going to start now. “So you mean to say, you’re the one who saved me?”

  “In the flesh, if I may say so,” Lugh says with a short laugh. “Why are you so shocked?”

  I blink very fast, trying to recall that day, but the most I can pick out of my fatigued mind is the cold and darkness of the water before finding myself on the landing hill where Arthur and the others found me.

  “Why are you protecting me?” I ask. “What do you want from me?”

  “Want?” the tall Fey asks. “Cannot the pleasure of your company be sufficient?”

  Blanchefleur was right about the whole courtesan thing, I realize as my hands go clammy with apprehension.

  “Maybe I saw something in you that was worth saving,” he adds as he whisks me around the tree again.

  “Oh, OK,” I say. Maybe it’s the dance and the lack of food, but I feel more and more light-headed and am having a hard time staying suspicious.

  “You’re putting the rest of the company to shame,” Lugh says, squishing down any further thought of life preservation I was entertaining. “And the dress matches your violet eyes.”

  I giggle. At least this Prince Charming has a defect if he can’t tell the color of my eyes from this close—or could fallen angels be color blind like dogs?

  “There’s really no need to flatter me,” I say with a smile. “Besides, I already know how your people feel about me.”

  “And how is that?”

  I lift my chin so the poultice around my jugular shows clearly.

  “Ah, that,” he says. “They just lost a sister a moon ago or so, and they’re blaming your colleagues for it. Please forgive them. In their grief, they forgot their basic manners. Besides, you were wearing clothes that don’t make people here feel at ease. But that’s all well now, isn’t it?”

  One of the musicians, a young man with a long black-and-white Mohawk that reaches down to his rump, blows a lively trill with his flute, and the Fey orchestra picks up the tempo. We spin around the circle so fast I’m afraid I’m going to be flung out, but Lugh keeps me anchored, and I laugh with delight.

  All my cares and worries seem to have disintegrated into thousands of particles. All that matters now is that I’m alive, amongst these beautiful if somewhat unusual people. And maybe it’s because of this disparate group of Fey that my history doesn’t matter—except for the minor detail of having trained with knights.

  “So what happened?” Lugh asks as we pass a gnome skipping by, his bonnet askew.

  “With what?” I ask.

  “Well, it seems every time I see you, you’re in trouble,” he says. “What happened to you today that you made your way to our world?”

  The words jar me back to reality in a most unpleasant way.

  “Maybe,” he says, drawing me close, “it means you should stay with us. It’ll be easier for me to keep an eye on you then.”

  Though the tone is light, I sense that he’s being serious. I tense up. Is this how people get caught in the Fey’s meshes? By being promised a worry-free life, filled with light and sweets and dance and beauty? But that’s what Father Tristan’s warned us against. These are not angels, but devils, cast out of heaven like Lucifer. And everyone knows he was the hottest of the lot before he was sent to Hell.

  Besides, I’ve seen what these pretty Fey people can do.

  Lugh senses my inner conflict and pulls back, a look of sadness in his eyes.

  “I heard you faced a banshee,” he says. “If you stayed here, you could be safe. We could keep you away from the Sons of Darkness.”

  At his words, I stop dancing altogether as memories of the cadaverous creature bring shivers down my back.

  “This is only an invitation,” Lugh says quickly. “I would be sad to see you leave, but if that is your wish, there’s nothing I can do about it. All you have to do is find a fairy circle, and you’ll be back where you want.”

  I feel the knots in my shoulders untie. I’m free to do as I want, which is more than I can say about the way they’re treating me back at school.

  “So all I need is to step through that ring of mushrooms?” I ask.

  Lugh chuckles. “Mushrooms, stones, trees, it doesn’t matter which. Nature is nature, and a circle’s a circle. All you need to do is visualiz
e where you wish to go.”

  My eyes widen. “You mean to say those things are like portals?”

  Lugh nods.

  I whistle. “Fancy way of transportation. Wish the rest of the world knew how to use them.”

  With a tight smile, Lugh makes me spin around. I laugh.

  “How could Father Tristan ever think you’re demons?” I say. “That’s so obviously not the case. You’ve fed me, clothed me, let me join in the fun, all with no strings—or chains—attached.”

  “And what makes you believe we’re not demons?” he asks.

  I open my mouth to answer, then pause. “Is this a trick question?”

  “We’re all from the same source,” he says, lifting me up over a badger with a fancy yellow bow around its neck. “We’re all… brothers and sisters, in a sense.”

  “So you mean to say that you’re part of the Devil’s cohort, trying to tempt humans into doing evil things and possessing our souls for… for your final battle against the Heavens?”

  Lugh shrugs. “Would that be so far-fetched?”

  I stop dead in my tracks, and a young Fey boy crashes into me. Lugh tries to get me going again, but I don’t let myself be swayed.

  “In that,” he says at last, “we’re more like you than you may think. Not everyone wants to use and abuse humans, just like not every human wants to enslave and destroy us. Our powers were God-given, there’s no denying that, like everything else in this world. And with abuse, comes retribution. I can understand that. But we’re not all bad, though God chose to turn His back on us, leaving us to our own devices in a hostile land. Isn’t it natural for beings to fight for their survival?”

  I gesture toward the clearing with a wide sweep of my hand. “This doesn’t exactly strike me as survival,” I say.

  “Just because you’ve seen a small part of our world doesn’t mean you know the whole picture,” Lugh says. He takes a deep breath, then draws me in, so close I can feel the heat emanating from his body. “The question is, do you think we’re bad?”

  I lose myself in his intense gaze again, unable to look or move away. But I find I don’t want to. His hand cups my cheek, then slowly follows the curve of my neck, traces my collarbone, and comes to rest on my left shoulder, over my old scar, leaving me feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. His face draws nearer to mine, his lips so close I can almost feel them. I close my eyes, tilt my head up—

  Something slams into my back, and I fall forward, my lips meeting Lugh’s. The world seems to stop as my heartbeat drowns out all other sound. I feel like I’m drowning again, but in a pleasant way this time.

  “Get away from her!” someone says, jerking me backward.

  “Arthur, what are you doing here?” I whisper harshly.

  Tightening his grip around my wrist, Arthur drags me after him.

  Lugh cuts us off, frowning. “Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere,” I say, trying for the umpteenth time to free myself.

  Arthur quickly scans the tense crowd. “I just wanted to ask her for a dance,” he says through clenched teeth.

  “That’s no way to treat a lady,” Lugh says. “I thought you people at least knew that much.”

  Arthur stiffens, releases me, then gives me a small bow. “Would the lady care to dance with me?” His voice is pleasant, but his eyes have a say-no-and-I’m-going-to-make-your-life-miserable quality to them.

  With an inward sigh, I place my hand in his, give an apologetic glance toward Lugh, and let Arthur lead me away. The music resumes at a much slower pace, which gives him plenty of leeway to glare at me.

  “What?” I ask, petulant.

  Arthur keeps his mouth shut tight. Neither the beauty of the place nor the entrancing music seem to mollify him. He looks more like a panther, ready to spring the moment the cage door’s open.

  “Why did you run away again?” he finally asks, barely containing his anger.

  “First of all, there is no again,” I say. “Second of all, tell me which prisoner wouldn’t want to be free?”

  Arthur scowls. “You’re not a prisoner.”

  “But having to tell everyone of my whereabouts is being free?” I retort.

  “There’s a good reason for that,” he says. “You always get in trouble. Look where you’ve ended up now, right in the lion’s den.”

  “The only one doing the biting here is you,” I say, dipping into a low curtsy.

  I hurry away, but Arthur keeps close to me. I stop at the buffet tables and grab a goblet of apple cider.

  “Don’t drink that!” he says. “It’s what they want. It’s how they’re going to keep you here!”

  Making sure he’s watching, I slowly drink the savory liquid, enjoying every single gulp, and his look of horror even more.

  “You little fool,” he says, darting glances left and right. “As if coming here hadn’t been hard enough.”

  I put the goblet back down, considering taking another cupful. The cider here is heady, and I can already feel its effects in the delicious warmth and fogginess pervading my body.

  “You know,” I say, pouring myself some more cider, “that is a good point. How did you get here? Especially with all your”—I point at his protective gear—“servant thingies.”

  Arthur puts my cup back on the table before I can take another swig.

  “I told you not to drink that,” he says.

  I lick my lips, eyes focused on my drink. “You haven’t answered me.”

  “I felt your ring,” he says, checking our surroundings. “We need to get out of here, before the night’s over.”

  I push Arthur’s hand away and quaff the warm drink down, my free hand on his chest to prevent him from stealing it away from me again. When I’m done, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Funny, I hadn’t noticed before how vivid all the colors are, nor how everyone seems so soft and pleasant. Even Arthur.

  I keep my hand on his chest, more to keep steady than to push him away. “You sh-should stop staring at me like that,” I say. My mouth feels cottony, and I have a hard time forming words properly. “I’m not g-going anywhere with you till you tell me how you got h-here.”

  I’m not quite sure what Arthur’s playing at, swaying back and forth before me like that, looking angry. He really should stop being so stuck-up.

  “I had to let the sylph go,” Arthur says.

  I notice then the simple silver band on his pinkie, the one I’d had to leave behind to come here. But the ogham is gone. I feel a slight pang of sadness; that had been my Fey, the first one who’d responded to my call.

  “It was that or let you be here alone without protection,” he adds.

  “Thief,” I say, punching him in the shoulder before stumbling away.

  Arthur catches up with me before I walk into a wide, spiky animal.

  “I’m fine,” I say, veering around the massive hedgehog-like creature. “Why does everyone feel like I need protection? You, and then Lugh, and then Dean, and then you. Is it cause you think I’m gonna set the world on fire or something? I’m really not that bad, even if you think I’ve murdered all those people. I mean, I’ve even cleaned the toilets for two weeks without complaining. You should all take care of yourselves instead. You’re the ones who are dropping like flies, not me.”

  Arthur slaps his hand over my mouth, then drives me back into a tree.

  “Don’t talk about that here,” he says, hovering over me, his body tense.

  My heart’s going a gazillion beats a minute. I’m pinned against the tree like Christ to his cross, with no room to struggle.

  “So maybe that one Fey was nice to you,” he says, trying to reason with me. “But do you know them all here? What if one of them…” His nostrils flare with anger as he takes in the bandage around my neck. “Hell, Morgan, what if one of them had been the killer?”

  I stop squirming.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he says. “Of course I never believed you were behind those deaths. You’re not tale
nted enough. You saw the banshee, didn’t you? You nearly died because of her! And now you come here, of all places? How could I not worry about you?”

  He closes his eyes as if this long diatribe has wiped him out. I notice for the first time how pale he’s gotten since our last training session together, ages ago, dark circles rimming his eyes.

  “There, there,” I say, patting him awkwardly. Nothing tonight, not even he, can make me feel bad anymore. “It’s going to be OK.”

  The music stops abruptly, and people start screaming. Through the rapidly thinning crowd, I see the tables laden with food topple to the ground with a big crash, crystal plates and cups breaking into a scintillating rain. All that yummy food, wasted!

  I want to rush over, but Arthur holds me back. Emerging from the forest’s shadows is a large group of Fey, but these aren’t the happy-go-lucky ones who have been partying in the clearing. These have a more feral look about them, like they’re waiting for the smallest excuse to draw blood.

  I involuntarily shrink away, my happy feeling gone. Their ranks part to let a large black horse through. The colt rears back, dripping wet, then lands amid the feast’s wreckage.

  The prince of the Tuatha Dé is suddenly there, a lone figure before so many hostile Fey. Yet his stance is easy and confident.

  “That’s quite an entrance there, Mordred,” Lugh says.

  A youth jumps off from the horse’s back and hands the reins over to a woman whose curves would put Jennifer to shame. His jet-black hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, giving us ample view of his stern face and bare torso, which are both a strange shade of blue. He can’t be older than either me or Arthur, yet he strides up to Lugh with all the confidence of a monarch.

  “Who is that?” I ask Arthur. Apart from a troll, and perhaps an ogre, among the new faces, I’ve already exhausted my slim knowledge of Fey creatures.

  “Don’t know,” Arthur whispers. “Just stay away from them, and try not to get noticed.”

  The youth continues to move along, past Lugh, inspecting the crowd, searching every creature’s face like he’s looking deep into their souls. And maybe he is, I realize with a shiver as he draws nearer.