Seelie Princess (The Crown of Tír na nÓg Book 1)

by Sarah Tanzmann

  Ophira’s teal eyes pierced into her skin, and Kayla averted her gaze before she continued.

  “I’ve barely made any progress. All I do is sit around and wait for Dahlia to call me back, but she hasn’t found anything. My father is still out there and I need to do something—anything. I’m sick of waiting, of hoping, of being told to stay put.” Tears welled up in her eyes and she let them. “I want my dad.”

  She was aware she sounded like a whining toddler, but so what? In a way, she even felt like one. If she could only have her daddy back… all would be right again. She could return home to her family, making them whole again once and for all. If she didn’t find him soon, she’d miss even more time with her family and Abby.

  And if she didn’t find him at all, she’d never see any of them again.

  Ophira shifted on her throne, her wings twitching. “I understand your need to act,” she said, and her voice carried a hint of true empathy. “Yet you must refrain from it, as part of the bargain.”

  Beside the throne, Fay’s eyes were wide with panic, forcing Kayla to keep quiet; she’d already said too much. Kayla obeyed.

  “Consider this a warning. You may leave now.” With a flick of Ophira’s hand, Kayla was dismissed.

  Outside the throne room, Maeve hissed and swore. “How could you?” A pause. “What’s wrong with you?” Without waiting for a response, she stalked off, still fuming. Nooa excused himself, following Maeve.

  Maybe it was the exhaustion caused by the day’s events, but somehow Kayla couldn’t hold back a laugh. Or maybe she no longer had the energy to be upset by Maeve’s behavior.

  Fay didn’t laugh. A deep crease had formed on her brow. “You should cut her a break.”

  The laughter died in Kayla’s throat and she coughed. “What? Why? She’s the one who’s always pissed at me.”

  “She’s just scared,” Fay said.

  “Scared?” Kayla felt like laughing again, but she stopped herself when she saw Fay’s stern expression. “Why is she scared?”

  “We all are.”

  Kayla saw the tension in Fay’s shoulders, the way she clenched her jaw as though she was holding back something. Her right hand gripped her left elbow, tiny cuts gleaming red where the Dryad must have gotten her.

  Kayla shifted closer to Fay. “Why didn’t you tell Ophira the truth?”

  “I told the truth,” she said, facing Kayla with eyes solid as gemstones. “I know you ran around the court asking about the Unseelies. Someone from the market told me.”

  Cheeks burning, Kayla tugged at the strap of her pouch. “Weren’t you going to tell her about me running off?”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “But why?”

  Fay brushed Kayla’s arm with the tips of her fingers. “Hope.” She lingered on Kayla’s arm for a second and then drew back. “Don’t ever run off like that again or I might change my mind one last time.” She turned and strode down the corridor without a backward glance.

  Kayla stared after her, a chill sweeping up her arms and neck.

  22

  A QUESTION OF LOYALTY

  Fay slept poorly that night. The image of Unseelies dragging off Kayla wove in and out of her dreams. When she got up in the morning, the sun barely grazed the tops of the Glistening Rocks. She dressed, a dull pain forming in the back of her head, and left her room.

  The corridors were deserted, lending them a quiet eeriness. Her feet led her without her brain thinking about where she was going, and her hands kept stroking the flowers that grew along the walls as she went.

  “Fay!”

  She froze at the sound of her own name. When she turned around, her stomach knotted.

  It was Ophira. “I need a word,” she said as she strode up to Fay. She was wearing a simple pale green dress, her hair was loose, and the crown was missing from her head. Her expression made Fay suspect that her night had been just as sleepless as hers.

  “Your Highness,” Fay greeted her, bowing.

  “You have disobeyed my orders,” Ophira said flatly. “Why did you lie about the incident with the Dryad?”

  Perhaps Fay was too tired to be shocked. Or perhaps she’d even seen it coming. But either way, Ophira’s accusation didn’t faze her in that moment. If anything, it drained the remaining energy from her body.

  Fay resisted the urge to slump against the wall. “I did not think it was important to share.” The lie pierced her tongue, but Fay kept her composure. “The pookas’ visit appeared to be a more pressing matter. Was I mistaken?”

  Ophira’s blue-green eyes narrowed on Fay, calm like the sea before a storm. “We should discuss this somewhere else.” She turned and led the way down the hall and up the stairs. They passed the throne room, and Fay wondered where they were going. She knew Ophira’s personal quarters were on this level, but she allowed no one, except the maids, in there.

  At last, they stopped in front of a wooden door that was bolted the old-fashioned way, with a lock and key. Ophira retrieved the key from a fold in her nightgown, which made Fay think that Ophira had planned this encounter. She unlocked the door and swung it open.

  It was dim inside, the light of dawn blocked by thick curtains. When Ophira entered the room, a single Faery Light sprung to life. It cast a semi-circle, illuminating pieces of furniture. A vast bed, much like the one in all the other rooms, a dresser, a tall mirror, and a wardrobe.

  Fay looked closer and saw that it wasn’t a wardrobe. Maybe it had been one day, but now it was a heap of collapsed wood, splintered and broken. Once a beautiful piece of handcrafted furniture, reduced to firewood.

  “This was Titania’s room,” Ophira said.

  Fay spun back around. Ophira had shut the door and sat on the edge of the bed, her face in the shadows. But by the way she was sitting there, her body tensed and ready to bolt, Fay could tell she wasn’t in here a lot.

  “When we were little, I would often sneak in here at night and we would hide under the covers, telling each other stories and laughing until our stomachs hurt. Once, a maid came in because she had heard us and took us straight to father and mother. But Father, all he did was smile. His two daughters, who could not be more different, enjoyed being with each other so much that we broke the rules.”

  Ophira’s heartbreak rooted Fay to the spot. Whenever someone mentioned her sister, Ophira would react in a controlled manner, holding back whatever emotion she felt toward Titania. Now sorrow and longing tinged her voice.

  It became even more pronounced when she continued, “No one who saw us in battle could ever imagine we were so close growing up. Inseparable and unquestioningly devoted to each other. If one of us got into trouble, the other would take the blame.” Ophira sighed. “I am not sure where it went wrong. Titania never spoke of feeling unloved by our father or being mistreated by the people of the court. Perhaps if she had confided in me, it would have never gotten to this. But something inside of her snapped, and all she held toward me from then on was envy and hatred.”

  Ophira rose to her feet and as she did, the Faery Light revealed the tears shimmering in her eyes. Without looking at Fay, she strode past her, toward the remains of the wardrobe. “Titania ruined everything our father had worked for,” she said, the sorrow from before dissipated. “Yes, some said he was a ruthless leader, but he was a good king. A visionary of our lands. His father before him had coerced the pookas into submission and my father strove to find a more balanced solution. It was not simple, but he was making progress. Until Titania turned on him.”

  She placed a hand on the wooden wreck, tight enough to make the boards groan under her grip. “Blinded by her envy, Titania tore our people apart and drove an even deeper wedge between Seelies and pookas. I lost my mother to war and my sister to hatred. And Titania took who was left for me to love by force.” Her grip on the wood loosened, and she looked up, toward the court hidden behind the curtains. “All the pain she caused… for something I never wanted in the first place.”

  Fay had
heard many stories about Titania’s betrayal, but none ever spoke of what consequences it had for Ophira, other than having lost her father. With Titania gone and King Arawn murdered, the responsibility of a whole kingdom, one that had been shattered into pieces, was forced onto Ophira. Fay had only ever known her as Queen Ophira, but she tried to picture her before all that happened, when Ophira had been a princess. Even that was a title that Fay was scared to bear.

  Ophira never had a choice, but Fay wasn’t sure if she had one either.

  “The burden of the crown was one I would have given up gladly,” Ophira said, her head drooping. “But, with time, I realized that I was born with this burden. It was mine from the second I came into this world and it will be mine until I die. I could not pass it on. Who else would carry it? My father was gone and my sister had proved she was unworthy.” She finally faced Fay, who wished she wouldn’t. “You cannot pass on this burden, Fay. It is part of who you are.”

  Fay clenched her jaw. “I was not born with that burden.”

  “Your circumstances might have been different,” Ophira said. “But it is your legacy too.” She came closer to Fay, unfolding her wings and spreading them wide open. Fay had seen this move before, whenever Ophira tried to intimidate the leader of the pookas. Unfortunately, Fay realized, it worked.

  Fay staggered back a step.

  “When you came into this world, I welcomed you with open arms,” Ophira said, her voice sounding hollow. “After all, I had gotten back a piece of my family I never knew I even had. But I was honest with you, from the beginning, and you knew what kind of responsibility you would have if you stayed.”

  “I know what I agreed to…” Fay swallowed against the sour taste in her mouth. She felt cold all over, as though someone had emptied an ice bucket above her head. “But I never agreed to becoming your heir.”

  Ophira was now towering over Fay, her wings trembling. Her eyes were no longer calm but had turned into a thunderous storm. “You vowed to protect your people at all costs. And I told you, repeatedly, the importance of keeping Kayla bound to this court. I trusted you, but how can I trust you now?”

  “I-I did not mean to be disloyal,” Fay stammered.

  Ophira’s lips curled back into a sneer, and Fay flinched. “Lie one more time and you will never set foot into my kingdom again.”

  With a swoosh of her nightgown and a flurry of her wings, Ophira stormed from the room.

  Fay moved through the Faery Path in a daze, her feet leading her as her mind spun with thoughts. Once back in Chicago, she stumbled through the city with her arms hugged tight to her chest and her head bowed against the wind. It was much colder than the last time.

  When she looked up, she was staring at the ugly front of a one-story house. Graffiti smirched its walls, one window was broken and haphazardly repaired with a simple wooden board across it, and the lawn had long ago died, with nothing but debris and litter strewn over it.

  It had been her home once. Yet when she looked at it now, it was like watching a movie and she wasn’t in it.

  She sank to the curb and sat for a while. Once or twice the front door opened and she flinched, but it wasn’t him. And even if it had been, he wouldn’t be able to see through her Glamor.

  Fay gritted her teeth. This wasn’t her life anymore, and she wasn’t the girl who used to live behind those greasy, broken walls. And the day she’d left this life behind, she decided to never be that girl again. She needed to move on, to become somebody else.

  But who was she?

  A liar and a failure.

  Hot tears filled her eyes and she squeezed them shut. The scar on her back throbbed with the pain of an old memory. But the knife slicing into her skin hadn’t hurt as much as his words.

  “It should have been you!” he’d cried over and over, until the world around Fay had gone blank. She was sure she would die; part of her hoped she would. And maybe in a way, she had died, because after that everything had changed.

  Only her mother’s last words kept her coming back.

  As Fay sat on that curb, she twisted the ring on her left hand. She could have painted a perfect image of the ring even with her eyes closed. With a finger, she traced the golden band, feeling the deep engraving. A wreath of leaves.

  Among the sounds of cars rushing by, Fay heard a pair of footsteps. She opened her eyes, held her breath.

  It was him.

  He came walking down the street, toward the house. His dark hair was neatly trimmed and he wore a clean pair of pants and jacket for a change. And he had shaved too.

  Fay released her breath. He looked so… ordinary. Like the day he’d come home from work and surprised Fay and her mother with a weekend trip to the countryside. She could still remember the crackle of the campfire, the sweet smell of marshmallows, and the laughter of her mother, hugging Fay tight to her side.

  The memory vanished with a snap. As her father drew nearer, Fay tensed, clenching her hands into fists. But he didn’t even look her way. He strode up to the house, unlocked the front door, and vanished inside.

  Fay stared at the house until her jaw hurt from the tension. Then, she left without another look back.

  When Fay returned to the Citadel, she found Nooa waiting outside her room. He was alone, and part of Fay was relieved that Maeve hadn’t come along. Nooa greeted her with a smile, but without saying a word, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the drawing room of her bedroom.

  At the center of that room stood a low wooden table, surrounded by seating cushions, and a small stone fountain burbled in the corner. Vines and ivy crawled up and down the walls, and tiny insects buzzed through the air. The whole room was a slice of nature inside the Citadel and Fay had never understood how that was possible. Things in Tír na nÓg often seemed implausible, but Fay had learned that everything happened for a reason.

  Everyone and everything—no matter how small—played an important role.

  Nooa settled on a cushion, beckoning to the one beside him. Fay sat, facing Nooa. His shock of black hair looked even darker in here and his iron-gray eyes flashed back at Fay. “Are you really all right?” he asked.

  With any other person, Fay would have averted her gaze and mumbled that she was fine. A little white lie that stung her tongue. She would rather face the pain of lying than admit the truth.

  But Nooa was different. Nooa cared deeply. “Is it Kayla?”

  Fay blinked back tears. “I thought it was the right thing to do… I can’t become the Seelie Princess. It’s just…” She bit her lip, stifling a sob.

  Nooa pulled Fay into his arms and she let him. She buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling his scent that always reminded her of freshly cut wood. He hugged her close. “I get it, Fay. I do,” he said in a soft murmur. “I would never give up my family or my memories of them. Not even if it made me the king of Tír na nÓg.”

  Fay’s eyes burned as she forced back more tears. She thought of the day she met Nooa. When she came through the Faery Path for the first time, she was wearing a shabby sweater and old jeans, her hair matted and in tangles. The scar on her back was still red, but it hurt a lot less than all the tiny scars on the inside. Back then, Fay didn’t have to hold her tears back; she’d run out of tears to shed. She was a hollow corpse stumbling through the world in a trance.

  And then she met Nooa, who brought back the light. From the first second, he’d been kind and caring. He was a wonderful listener, but he knew when to give her some space. And for the first time since her mother had died, someone gave her a hug and a shoulder to cry on.

  They sat in silence for a while. Then Fay pulled away from Nooa, clearing her throat.

  “When I came here,” she said, “I never thought I’d have to carry the burden of a whole kingdom. But there’s no turning back. This is my home now.”

  Nooa offered a brief smile. “Maeve and I will always carry that burden with you.”

  “I want to tell Kayla the truth,” she said, sniffling. “Deceiving someon
e like this… it’s not who I am.”

  “But if Ophira is right and Kayla truly is the key to uniting our people, then would it not be worth the cost?” Nooa took his flute between two fingers, twiddling it absentmindedly. “You know, sacrificing the wellbeing of one for the sake of many. Or something like that.”

  Fay fidgeted with the frayed corner of the cushion. “Would you be willing to sacrifice my wellbeing? Or that of Maeve?”

  “Of course not! You guys are like family and I love you—oh! Oh, Fay…” Nooa placed his hand on top of Fay’s to stop her from fidgeting. “Are you sure? You have not known her for long.”

  Fay pulled her hand away from him and ran it through her hair. “I don’t know. It might pass, but…” She released a trembling sigh. “There’s something about her that’s just… I don’t know…”

  “No, I get it. You care about her.”

  Eyes filling with tears again, Fay nodded. For a second, the tightness that had weighed down on her chest for days lifted. Alone with Nooa, she’d finally been able to give free rein to her emotions. But once she left that room, she’d have to bundle them all up again. Shove them to the back of her mind. Because if she caved in, if she let her feelings get the upper hand, she could no longer keep it all bottled up.

  She needed this moment to last longer. “Ophira threatened to banish me,” Fay said. “If I tell Kayla the truth. But… but I can’t go back.”

  Nooa hugged her tight, running a hand up and down her back. “Ophira would never do such a thing,” he said, though Fay noticed a small quiver in his voice. “You are her family and she loves you. We are all scared now, and we make stupid decisions because of it. And simply because you can lie does not mean you have to.”

  “I went to see him,” she said, and her voice sounded hollow and strange.

  “You did? Did he—?”

  Fay shook her head. “No, I was Glamored. But I can’t go back, Nooa. I couldn’t bear it.” She stopped holding back her tears and let them flow down her cheeks. “And that is worth a lie, right?”