The Autumn Fairy of Ages

by Brittany Fichter

  Katy’s heart sank as she realized she’d been following a path. How foolish could she be? She hadn’t even considered the stupidity of such a choice when she’d first escaped. All she’d been able to think about was getting away.

  As soon as the sounds of wings were gone, she flew up until she could hide amongst the leaves of the nearest tree and peek through the foliage. Less than a mile away was the Autumn border.

  “There! In the tree!”

  Katy startled at the sound of the man’s voice and, in her surprise, fell from the tree. She met the ground with a horrible smack. Her chest felt as though a giant had flattened her against the forest floor as she struggled to breathe. It was almost a whole minute before she was able to draw air in properly again. She rolled onto her stomach as her back and one of her wings screamed in agony, but she did her best to ignore it as she pushed herself to her feet and began to run unevenly toward Autumn’s edge.

  “I see her!” a female voice shouted.

  Katy pushed herself even harder. She was done flying low. She would have to fly high or not fly at all. Using all of her remaining strength, Katy pushed her aching wings to carry her up above the trees. Then she shot toward Autumn, like an arrow loosed from Peter’s crossbow, biting back the pain as she went.

  “She’s going to Autumn!” someone behind her called. “Somebody stop her!”

  “You can’t go in there!” a female voice called frantically as Katy neared the boundary. “It’s forbidden!”

  Forbidden was perfect.

  Katy squeezed her shoulders in and pushed herself steadily harder until she was ready to throw up. She glanced back just enough to see a fairy only several yards back. In what was meant to be a pivot, Katy twisted and found herself speeding toward the ground with an alarming speed. The ground rushed up to meet her, and before Katy could stop, she had hit the forest floor. Pain made her wish for unconsciousness as she stared up at the hole in the orange-leafed ceiling.

  And yet, in her agony, she realized with that no one had come in after her.

  Still, preferring not to give them even a glimpse of her, she groaned as she rolled over and onto her knees, but froze before she could stand.

  A woman stood before her. Her body was draped from head to toe in white, and she wore her cloak hood pulled down over her face. She fairly glowed in the weak sun of the autumn evening and a small smile lit her lips, though her eyes were hidden. She took a slow step toward Katy.

  “You made it.” She removed her hood, and her smile grew as Katy’s mouth fell open. “I know you don’t remember me, but…I’m Aisling.”

  26

  An Unfortunate One

  Nearly half a minute of anger passed after Katy had flown off, Peter realized what he had done.

  “Katy!” He jerked around and searched for an exit from the platform, but a hand firmly grasped his shoulder.

  “Give her time.” Firin Reaghan gave him a sad smile. “When she’s ready, she’ll come back.”

  “You can’t know that.” Peter shoved the firin’s hand off his arm and strode toward the nearest set of stairs, but Firin Reaghan followed.

  “I know it as well as I know you. Every time you hurt her feelings when she was little, she would run to my yard and sit in my garden.” He gave a chuckle. “She would often squash my best cabbages.”

  Peter wanted to ignore the firin. Better yet, he wanted to use several choice words his father would not have approved of. But in spite of his anger, he knew the firin was right. He came to a stop on the balcony that overlooked the arena and gripped the railing until his hands hurt.

  “So I take it you’ve heard.”

  “Shauna told me.” The firin stopped beside him. “I’m so sorry.” He shook his head up at the sky. “For everything. I never would have recommended you come here had I known all this would happen.”

  Peter considered retorting that he had been against this trip all along, but then he reconsidered. Enough hurt had been passed between him and Katy. He didn’t need to drag the firin into it as well.

  As it was, just the memory of the way her face had crumpled at the revelation was killing him slowly inside. It was a look he had never seen on her face. Not directed at him, at least. At Emma, yes. Emma had failed Katy more times than Peter could count in her less than half-hearted attempts at parenting the little girl. But never had he seen that look directed at him. It was a look that needed no words. A look that meant he had failed.

  Possibly even worse than receiving that look from her was the truth he was now trying to suppress. Admitting that the chancels knew what they were talking about wasn’t even an option. No. He refused. There had to be another way. After all, wouldn’t the rebels have told him if he’d needed to know?

  “Peter?” Firin Reaghan touched Peter’s shoulders.

  “I just don’t understand why Atharo would allow this.” Peter shook his head as he looked out over the empty rows. “Any of it.”

  “I don’t either, Peter. But I wish I did.”

  “Prince Peter.”

  They turned to see a red-haired fairy calling them from several benches down. It was the same fairy Katy had been talking to on the day she’d returned to meet him in the garden. Not as tall as Peter, but still tall by most standards, he looked to be no more than twenty and two at most. Freckles touched every part of his pale face.

  The fairy gave a short bow. “Maybe I have a word?”

  Peter looked at Firin Reaghan, who nodded.

  “Come, Malachi,” the firin called. Malachi appeared from behind a bench. He yawned and rubbed his eyes before going to meet the firin. Once they were gone, the red-haired fairy gestured toward the stairs he had appeared from.

  “What is this about?” Peter asked as they began to descend the steps.

  “You don’t know me, but I’m Jagan, Donella’s assistant.”

  “I’ve seen you around.”

  Jagan nodded. “From what I’ve seen of you, I’ve gathered that you appreciate frankness. So if it’s permissible, I’m going to be frank.”

  “Please,” Peter said as they left the stairs and started down a winding path that led through a garden with hedges twice the height of Peter’s head. “I would appreciate nothing more.”

  “I anticipated that you wouldn’t agree with the chancels’ decision.”

  “Donella must have chosen you for your intellect.” Peter glanced at the fairy’s face. “Did she send you?”

  Jagan ignored the jab. Instead, he folded his hands behind his back as they entered the hedge. “No. I came of my own accord.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I believe there’s something I think you should know about Donella before you assume her intentions are cruel.”

  “You won’t change my mind, but I’m listening.” It was better than sitting for hours and waiting for Katy to return so he could beg her forgiveness.

  “Donella is my mentor, but she’s more like a mother than anything else.”

  Peter glanced at Jagan in surprise. Mother and Donella were not two terms that he had expected to be spoken in the same sentence.

  “My family died when I was young, and Donella took me in. Since then, she’s worked hard to train me to ensure I have a future even after she passes, particularly as my clan would be less than happy to see me.” His voice hardened slightly. “Before she found me, though, she gave up the same thing she’s asking of you.”

  “So she said.”

  They came to a split in the path, and Jagan indicated that they should turn right. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that Donella and Shauna of the Fourth Isle are not the closest of friends.”

  “That did occur to me.”

  “Their history is well-known enough among those who frequent chancel meetings that I don’t feel as though I’m gossiping when I tell you that there’s a reason for their lack of warmth.”

  That Donella could be resented by more than one person didn’t surprise Peter greatly.

  “Donella had ju
st gotten her first seat on the chancel, as had a young fairy named Teyrnon.” Jagan’s steps slowed as they walked, but his eyes never lost their focus on the path’s end, at which stood a little wooden gate. “He was also Shauna's mother’s brother.”

  Peter couldn’t remember seeing anyone referred to as Shauna’s uncle during his time in the sessions.

  “His gift was unusual in that it dealt with the sea. Most fairies have land-based gifts, but Teyrnon could influence the waves. Unfortunately, the year they were supposed to wed was a year the isles had suffered greatly from typhoons. Teyrnon was from the Fourth Isle, as Shauna's entire family is.”

  The path opened up, and though they were still surrounded by tall hedges, a little patch of grass and several fruit trees stood around a raised bench. It would have been nice had Peter not been in such a foul mood.

  Jagan stopped and picked an apple from one of the trees. He handed it to Peter, then picked another for himself. “The Lower Chancel was tasked with finding fairies that might quell or at least dull the effects of the storms. After the chancels and asked him to help, Teyrnon spoke with Donella, wondering whether or not he should answer the chancels’ call and sacrifice himself to save the isles.”

  “How did he know it would be a sacrifice?” Peter asked.

  “The storms were so violent that year, everyone knew that if he went out and faced the approaching storms, there would be little chance of him coming back.”

  “What did she say?”

  Jagan paused and turned to Peter. “Before you think Donella cold-hearted, you must remember that her dedication to the isles has always been greater than her dedication to even her own self. She’s been the reason our isles have not dissolved into pits of civil war. She took an oath to protect them before she could even think of protecting her own feelings.”

  “Meaning she told him to go,” Peter said.

  Jagan nodded at the ground. “They lost Teyrnon,” he said quietly, “but the isles were saved.”

  “Does she miss him?” Peter asked, in spite of himself.

  “She did for a long time. But she says she eventually learned that losing him had changed her for the better. It taught her to make decisions with her head instead of her heart. And now,” Jagan said, fixing his sharp eyes on Peter as they came to a stop at the gate, “you have a similar decision to make as well.”

  Peter stood taller. “You want me to let Katy go.”

  “I’m asking you to let her go.”

  “She’s a big girl. If that’s what she wants, it’s her decision to make.” Peter prayed Jagan wouldn’t see how much even making this suggestion scared him.

  Jagan folded his arms as well. “As much as she may want to, she’s too loyal to even look in any direction but yours without your express permission to do so.”

  Peter wondered how much Jagan tried to get her to look elsewhere.

  Jagan shrugged. “The choice is yours. You can choose to pursue a marriage with her, but to what purpose? You know you cannot sire a child with her.” The ghost of a smile touched his lips as he emphasized the word you. “Something that will bring unrest to your isle down the road, as well as thinning the potency of the rhin blood in the king’s line, as your heir’s blood, whomever he may be, will assuredly be less pure than yours. You also would deprive her of the joy of motherhood, and you would set your marriage on the path of discord. Or…” Jagan put his hand on the gate’s lock. “You can let her go now.”

  “And what would I gain by breaking the promise I made to her?” Peter folded his arms, but his towering height didn’t seem to faze Jagan in the slightest. Then he paused. “What’s that sound?” The hedges on both sides of the gate were still twice as tall as he was and muffled some of the sound coming from behind them. “Do you hear singing?”

  “Please answer the question, Prince Peter,” Jagan said. “Will you free her to live to her full potential? Or will you attempt to chain her to the past while collapsing her future as well?”

  Peter had shivered at the mention of depriving Katy of motherhood, but the confidence on Jagan’s face was too infuriating to allow any sign of hesitancy. “I’ve chosen to ignore Atharo before, and that’s never gone well for me. So when I promised to love Katy and to love my people, with his help, I plan to do just that.”

  “If that’s your choice.” Jagan shrugged. “It’s an unfortunate one.” He peered around Peter. “You can stop sneaking about now. I’m done with him.”

  Malachi peeked out from behind a tree, looking sheepish. He walked slowly up to Peter, staring at the ground as he went.

  “You were supposed to stay with Firin Reaghan,” Peter said as Jagan flew away.

  “I know.”

  “Malachi.” Peter bent down. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry.” Malachi finally raised his eyes up to meet Peter’s. They were filled with tears. Before Peter could ask why, Malachi raised his hand, and a cloud of yellow dust filled Peter’s mouth, nose, and throat.

  Peter stumbled back, choking. But even when he began to breathe once more, the world tilted around him. The ground tilted and smacked him in the side of the face. Peter fought to stand, but he couldn’t tell which direction was up. As he struggled, the gate beside them opened. Inside, he could just make out a circle of fae.

  Their hands were stretched up toward the sky, and from their fingers flowed a rainbow of gifts. Ice, sunlight, water, wind, and rain were just a few of the talents Peter could see as they pressed them up into one glowing sphere suspended in the air. They were chanting as they raised their gifts up high, a haunting melody, deep and slow.

  Panic filled him as he realized his resistance meant he wasn’t just missing Katy’s return. If they had their way, he would never see her again.

  Though he was still on the ground, Peter’s hand immediately went to the hilt of his sword. A roaring filled his ears as his vision went red, and a guttural cry of rage ripped its way from somewhere deep inside him. His sword glowed green as the circle of fairies began to converge.

  27

  Monster

  Peter awoke with a roar, strapped to the back of a cart. And, he realized as he looked down, not only was he strapped down, but frozen as well. Ice covered his ankles, knees, waist, and chest. Flames of tongue burned on the edges of his cart. They didn’t eat through the wood as they burned, just remained at the edges, but they refused to be extinguished even when the wind came up. His sword was gone.

  He was on the arena floor once again, but this time he was surrounded by dozens of guards. Someone had angled the back of the cart up so he could face the chancel in its covered pavilion. The arena was full as well. This time, however, fear and unrest were nearly tangible. No one cheered or shouted. The only sounds were hushed conversations that created a low buzz.

  Once again, Peter’s muscles were sore, and he felt as though he’d just fought an entire battle on his own. He hadn’t even been so tired after fighting Tearlach on the night of Katy’s manifestation. His head throbbed as he tried to remember how he had gotten there and why he was strapped down like a horse that needed to be broken.

  And where was Katy?

  “Where is he?”

  Everyone turned to see Donella fly into the arena like an eagle diving after a fish. Gone was her calm, collected demeanor. Silver hair stuck out in every direction, and her cheeks were flushed red. She landed in front of Peter and stuck a finger inches from his face.

  “My nephew is lying in on a bed covered in blood!” she shouted. “My nephew, who is only fourteen years of age!”

  Peter blinked at her in confusion.

  “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Then before Peter could answer, she turned and addressed the chancels. “I have just come from visiting twelve of my own in the infirmary, including my nephew. And they are covered in blood like you have never seen on anyone living! Never,” her voice echoed through the arena, “have I seen anything like this. And never in the history of the isles has a rhin made open
war on—”

  “Donella,” called out a deep voice.

  “What?” She whipped around to face the pavilion. In the shadow of the pavilion cover, William stood.

  “This is a trial, not an execution. Before you pronounce his guilt, we must try him.” William looked hard at Ethemu, who was slumped in his chair. “Isn’t that right, Orator?”

  Ethemu glared at the other king for a moment from beneath his bushy eyebrows, but finally he rolled his eyes and slumped down in his chair. “Read the charges.”

  If looks could kill, Donella would have had Peter dead on the spot. But she did finally fly back up to the pavilion and throw herself in her chair beside Ethemu’s where she continued to glare at Peter as a court clerk stepped forward and began to read from a scroll.

  “It is reported that Prince Peter of the Third Isle came upon twelve fae who were participating in a peaceful circle of prayer when the rhin of the Third Isle is said to have attacked them. During the attack, more fae and humans joined in the skirmish in order to subdue the prince, but fifteen suffered injuries for which they are now being treated.” The aid took a breath before continuing. “Based on this evidence, Prince Peter of the Third Isle is hereby charged with attempted murder of twelve fae and three humans.”

  Peter mind felt blank as he searched for memory of the incident. Had he tried to kill fairies? Or anyone for that matter? But why would he do such a thing?

  Then, as he searched the pavilion for any sign of a sympathetic gaze, he spotted Malachi. The boy’s face was pinched and looked as though it had been drained of all color. And then Peter remembered.

  His fight with Katy.

  Jagan’s attempt to change his mind.

  The circle of fairies behind the gate.

  With burning clarity, he remembered it all. The sensation of watching his body from above. The showers of rain, snow, ice, and fire that the fairies had rained down upon him, every droplet of water and sulfur. He remembered the beast inside as it raged. It had taken all of his willpower to reign it in at all. They had taunted him, calling to him about all the ways they would take Katy and erase even his name from her memory. Even as he remembered, the animal inside him longed for the taste of blood. How any had escaped death from his sword could only have been a gift of Atharo.