She knotted the culms into an elaborate form similar to the swirls and twists Kayla had seen on the entrance to the Faery Path. Then she beckoned Kayla to lie down.
Dahlia’s green cat eyes settled on Kayla. “You ready?”
Kayla eyed the culms with a raised eyebrow. “Is this going to work?”
“Only one way to find out,” Dahlia said. As she placed the culm on Kayla’s chest, right above the heart, she murmured unfamiliar words.
Darkness enveloped Kayla and everything slipped away—the world, her own body, all her senses. The endless void was all there was. Had she died?
With a jerk, she resurfaced from the abyss and green light welcomed her. The image lingered, flickering like an old TV, but it didn’t change. It was as though it was stuck, and Kayla was stuck too, forced to dwell in the green nothingness for the rest of her life.
There was no sound. It was completely quiet, until one voice broke through. Dahlia speaking under her breath, faster and faster. With an echoing click, the scene transformed.
Kayla was no longer watching the scene; she was in it. The world was still green but dimmed, and she could see a thick canopy of branches and leaves above her, a full moon peeking through. Somebody was carrying her, and she felt the constant motion. She was much smaller than she normally was.
Kayla heard hard footfalls on packed ground, the snap of a twig, and the wind howling through the trees. She heard the breaths of someone running and carrying something heavy. Someone was singing close to her ear. The tune was sweet and feminine, and achingly familiar. She twisted her neck to look up at the woman who was carrying her—and saw her own eyes staring back.
But it wasn’t Kayla who the eyes belonged to, because the woman had sharper cheekbones and straight brown hair that tickled Kayla’s cheek. The woman stopped singing and smiled down at Kayla, a smile so bright and genuine it made even the darkest parts of the forest shine.
Kayla cooed and chuckled, kicking a tiny leg, and the woman cradled her closer to her chest. She never stopped running.
“Shh, my baby. I will not let them get you.”
Noises of their pursuers echoed through the trees: heavy footfalls, the clang of metal, furious and throaty voices.
The woman with Kayla in her arms ran even faster, thundering down a hill. The cold wind whipped the hair about her face, revealing a long cut down her cheek and a bruise at her eye.
“It will be all right,” the woman said. “No one will hurt you in the mortal world.”
She beamed another smile at Kayla, but it was marked with grief. Tears shimmered in her eyes.
And that was the last Kayla saw of the strange woman, before the memory dissolved into nothing but thin air.
Kayla flung her eyes open, gasping for breath, but her lungs wouldn’t fill. Her chest flared up with pain and she clutched at it. She felt something moist and tore away the grass culms. As she tossed them to the floor, sweet air filled her nostrils down to her lungs.
She sat up with her head spinning and her dress sticking to her skin. Her hair was plastered to her neck and face and she pulled it up into a ponytail. It somehow made it easier to breathe.
The light inside the room, which had always been gloomy, was now sharp in Kayla’s eyes. She blinked twice before she spotted Dahlia crouching on the floor beside the sofa. Her foxy ears were trembling and her eyes wide. She was breathing hard too, and sweat covered her face.
“D-Dahlia?” Kayla shifted from the sofa and slumped to the ground opposite of her. “What did you see?”
Dahlia shuddered and then cleared her throat. “The same as you,” she said. “Your mother in the woods, running.”
“That was not my mother.” Kayla rose to her feet, swaying back a little. “The spell didn’t work. Again.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and bit down on her lip to force back the tears.
“No, it worked.” Dahlia stood, walked over to the door, checked that it was closed, and came back to where Kayla was standing. “I saw it all,” she said. “The truth unraveled.”
“You—what? I don’t understand…”
Dahlia glanced toward the door. “I shouldn’t explain,” she said. “Too many ears. If the queen finds out I told you…” She rubbed her brow with two fingers, eyes closed. Then she looked back at Kayla. “But I have to… I owe your mother…”
“That was not my mother!”
“Keep your voice down and sit. There’s something I need you to see.” Dahlia crossed the room to one of her many shelves. When she returned, she was carrying something. “Say nothing. Just look at it. Please.”
Dahlia held the item out to Kayla. It was a small box made of wood, one that showed traces of age with little scratches and tiny holes. On top of the lid was a golden engraving, five letters that sent a jolt through Kayla’s body.
Keília.
She’d never seen her name spelled that way. A fist settled in her chest, squeezing tight.
Dahlia forced the box closer to Kayla. “Just look at it.”
Kayla took the box and sank onto the sofa, placing the object in her lap. With one trembling finger, she traced the inscription along every single letter. Then she slipped her finger to the side of the casket, pushed at the lid, and lifted it a few inches.
Her heart stopped pounding for the briefest moment.
“It will explain a lot. I promise,” Dahlia said.
Kayla flipped the lid open like peeling off a Band-Aid. There were only two items: a piece of folded parchment and a necklace. She took out the necklace first, placing it in her palm. Attached to a fine golden chain was a pendant, nothing like the ones she’d seen at Macy’s. Two pieces of glass were held together by a round frame, the same color as the chain, and pressed between them was a flower. Its star-like shape was familiar to Kayla, and when she counted its five petals and five stamens she was almost certain she knew what it was—if it hadn’t been for the color. The flower gleamed a brilliant purple.
She brought the necklace up to her eyes, examining every detail. But no matter which way she twisted and turned it, whether she held it against her palm or the light, the flower seemed unharmed, as if someone had plucked it minutes ago.
“Why would you give me this?” she asked. “Did my dad…?”
“There’s a letter too.”
Kayla placed the necklace back into the box and took out the folded paper. Its rough surface reminded her of the pages of an ancient book that had been perused a thousand times, and it crackled like burning wood as she unfolded it. The handwriting was neat, every letter placed there with purpose.
My fair Keília,
I hope that you may never read this letter, for if you do, it means you have returned to the Fair Folk. I need you to know that your father and I have tried relentlessly to keep you safe. But after so much running and hiding, we have decided that the time has come. You could never be as safe with us as you will be in the mortal world.
The family we picked to raise you is a fine family, as far as humans are concerned. Your father and I have arranged that they take good care of you. I have also assured that your faerie nature will be hidden from everyone you meet— from this or any other world. Both you and your human caretakers are being protected. An old friend of mine made sure of that. I pray she was also the one who delivered this letter, for she is the only person—other than your father—who I entrust with being the bearer of such news.
If you are reading this letter, Keília, know that the Fair Folk is not all kind. You may be one of them, but not all of them are benign. Some only mean you harm. I hope (oh, I do hope) that by the time you read this you have grown into a beautiful young woman and the dangers of our past are no longer yours.
Keep the necklace close and it will guide you through the darkest nights. Take care, my little pumpkin. We will always watch over you.
Your loving mother
Amhrán
When Kayla had finished reading the letter, she read it again, and again. Then she clasp
ed it to her chest. The room had grown stifling and the dank smell mingled with that of leftover tea leaves made her want to throw up.
“Do you have questions?” Dahlia asked. It sounded as if she was far away.
Kayla stared at the faerie cat who sat across from her, hands folded in her lap. There was now a teapot and two cups on the table. Dahlia had filled a cup with steaming liquid and placed it in front of Kayla, who wrinkled her nose at it.
“I know this is a lot to take in,” Dahlia said, “but—”
“It doesn’t make any sense!” Kayla leaped to her feet, holding the letter at arm’s length. “I am human,” she said. “I am Eileen and Alasdair Whittemore’s daughter!” Her fingers closed around the letter and the paper crackled.
Dahlia rose to her feet, palms stretched toward Kayla. “Please keep your voice down. The knights can’t hear. I can only imagine how you feel, but listen to me.”
Kayla shook her head. “No, you listen to me! This isn’t true. My dad would’ve never lied to me.” Her eyes stung with tears. “H-He is my f-father…” She collapsed back onto the sofa, sobbing. Dahlia sank down beside her and pulled Kayla to her chest.
“Shh,” Dahlia murmured, stroking Kayla’s back. “This doesn’t have to change how you feel about them.”
Dahlia’s arms were strong and Kayla relaxed into the embrace, letting her tears flow freely. “Eileen and Alasdair are my parents. And Theo… h-he’s my b-brother…”
“But there is another part of your family,” Dahlia said, hugging her tighter. “And I made a promise to your mother. To tell you the truth, if you ever came for help.”
Kayla pulled away from Dahlia and looked at her through bleary eyes. “But it can’t be true.” She sniffled. “I’m not a faerie. Look at me!”
“I see you more clearly now than the day we met.” Dahlia lifted a hand, brushing back Kayla’s hair. “Tír na nÓg has already changed you. Your eyes have darkened and are tinged with purple now. And your ears have sharpened.”
Kayla reached up a hand to touch her ear and found it slightly tapered at the top. “How—?”
“I told you there’s a strong magic on you,” Dahlia said. “It blocked your faerie gene, like a powerful Glamor, and you never showed your tapered ears or colorful eyes. But the spell has weakened, and it has become clearer with every time I saw you.”
Kayla placed her right hand on the wrist of her left one, resting it on her dad’s watch. “But… I’m not a faerie, Dahlia! I can lie and I can touch cold iron and I—” But as she said it, there was that prickle on her wrist again. She wriggled the wristband of her watch back an inch and found irritated red skin underneath.
“As I’ve mentioned,” Dahlia explained, “everything faerie about you has been locked away for years. But it’s breaking through the enchantment. There’s no denying the truth now.”
Kayla released her grip on the watch, resisting the urge to rip it off her wrist and ease the itch. She would never part with it.
Then her gaze wandered over to the box resting on the table. “My birth mother…” This was all so wrong. Somewhere out there was a woman who Kayla had never met, but they shared the same blood. She cleared her throat and started again. “Amhrán gave this to you?”
“Years ago, she came to see me and asked me for help. I was to place a protection on you and your new family. She also gave me that casket for safekeeping.”
Kayla wiped a few tears from her cheek with the back of her hand. “Why are you giving me this only now?” she asked, anger seeping into her voice.
Dahlia leaned back, one of her foxy ears pricking. “Because my memories were corrupted too,” she said. “What I just did, it opened both of our minds. I remember now that I placed that Glamor-like spell on you years ago. Your mother came to see me when you were only a baby and she begged me to hide you from the faerie world. This included hiding you from myself.”
Kayla lowered her head. “Who’s my birth father?” A tiny voice inside her head answered that question without hesitation. Alasdair was her father. He was her dad. He had raised her, he had loved her, and… he had lied to her.
“I don’t know,” Dahlia said. “He wasn’t with her when she came to visit me.”
“Do you know where they are? Are they… alive?”
“The day your mother gave me that letter was the last time I saw her. I haven’t heard from her since.”
“But you saw her now, didn’t you? In my mind?”
Dahlia frowned. “Your bond to them is somehow disrupted. I couldn’t locate them.” She glanced at the door. Everything was quiet beyond it.
“What about my dad, then?” Kayla asked with a pang in her chest. “My adoptive father, I mean. Did you find him?”
“I wish I could tell you.” Dahlia took Kayla’s hand into hers. “But you do not share the same blood and therefore I cannot find him…”
Kayla withdrew her hands from Dahlia. “The queen said you’d find him for me…”
“But I can’t,” Dahlia said. “I’m sharing this information with you instead. You must know your parents did everything to keep you safe, far away from the faeries. The Fair Folk only means to cause you harm, and your parents were clever enough to realize that before everything was too late.”
“Why would they want to keep me away from the Seelie faeries?” Kayla asked. “Apparently it’s where they came from.”
“You think it’s only the Unseelies that are dangerous, but that’s just because it’s what the Seelies told you. That the Unseelies are malicious and mean. That they are cold-blooded and slaughter innocent creatures.”
“Because they did,” Kayla said through gritted teeth.
“I’m not saying they aren’t all those things. But Kayla, the world isn’t divided into black and white, good and evil. Just because there are two courts of faeries doesn’t mean one of them is benevolent and the other isn’t. They both belong to the Fair Folk.”
“But what should I do?” Kayla asked, hearing the despair in her own voice. “What other choice do I have than to go back? I still haven’t found my dad… I can’t give up on him now…” Even if he wasn’t her real father, he was the only one she’d ever known and loved.
Dahlia never got to answer her question. Without warning, Rhydian strode into the room, and for a moment Kayla feared that he had listened to their conversation.
“We must return to the Seelie Court at once,” he said.
Kayla looked from Rhydian to the letter clasped in her hands to Dahlia. She had so many questions; she couldn’t leave. But Rhydian’s gaze rested on her, unwavering, and so she placed the letter back into the box.
“You should keep it,” Dahlia said. “Those are some excellent herbs,” she added with a wink.
“Thank you.” Kayla forced the words through her tensed jaw. She stuffed the box into her pouch and they left the Windy Flower.
Walking the streets of Chicago, Kayla’s heart no longer ached for her home. She didn’t even know where that was anymore.
III
PART THREE
“My father, my father, and can you not hear
The promise the elf-king breathes in my ear?”
“Be calm, stay calm, my child, lie low:
In withered leaves the night-winds blow.”
“The Erl King” - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
26
THREE YEARS AGO…
Kayla relaxed back into her seat. Her clothes stuck to her sweaty skin and the AC of the bus caused goosebumps all over her arms and legs. She rested her head against the cool window, watching the landscape rush by.
After the skyscrapers and concrete walls of the city, the vastness of the countryside was startling. They passed large stretches of meadows, the grass turned brittle by the scorching sun, and every once in a while Kayla caught glimpses of smaller cities.
She took out her phone and checked the location one more time. She sent another silent thanks to Ms. Pinderhughes, who’d helped Kayla find the place
. Without her, Kayla would still be looking.
Kayla plugged in her earphones and watched the world rush by the window.
When the driver announced her stop, Kayla woke from her daze and grabbed her backpack and jacket. The bus hissed to a stop and Kayla got off, hiding her face behind her black hair.
She hurried away from the bus stop, glancing left and right. Department stores, cafés, and diners lined the street, which was deserted in the hot afternoon sun. A few cars whizzed past Kayla, not paying attention to the girl now checking her phone for directions.
Unfortunately, with the bus only stopping within the city, it meant she’d have to walk for a while. Shouldering her backpack, she started off down the street.
After trudging along in the boiling heat, Kayla began to think that maybe she should have waited for another day. But she was done waiting. From now on, it was only forward.
She stopped twice to take a sip of water and check directions again. Not a lot of people crossed her path. Most of them seemed to be inside, in the confines of their cool houses. Kayla wiped the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her sweater, which she’d put on despite the heat to shield her skin from sunburn.
Though her skin rarely took on any color.
Finally, she left the city limits on the highway leading to the interstate. Her mother had always warned her against walking on highways. She used to say those roads were made for cars, not humans. But in this part of the country, the roads were empty of both cars and humans.
After another few miles, trees appeared on the horizon. Kayla stopped, chills crawling up her neck and face. Then she set into motion again, walking in quick strides. Her feet no longer ached and her throat no longer cried for water. Nothing mattered except that small stretch of forest beside the road.
Seelie Princess (The Crown of Tír na nÓg Book 1) Page 21