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

by Sarah Tanzmann

  Kayla slowed down once she was in the shade of the trees. The heavy pounding of her heart rushed the blood through her veins, crashing in her ears. She approached a tree that tilted sideways at a dangerous angle. Years of harsh winters and summer storms had almost torn it from its roots.

  Kayla kneeled, extending a trembling hand. Then she noticed it, at the foot of the tree, a small golden plaque.

  In Memoriam.

  Alasdair

  Husband. Father.

  With tears filling her eyes, Kayla collapsed to the ground. She held out a hand and pressed it against the plaque. Her chest tightened with another memory, when she’d stood with snow swirling around her, staring at a slab of stone with the same words on it.

  There was no body buried beneath those words. And Kayla knew there wasn’t a body buried at this tree.

  Two memorials for a man who had never died.

  The trees around Kayla rustled, but she couldn’t feel any wind. She wiped away the tears and peered past the memorial. The shrubs beside one tree quivered, and a shadow sprung from it.

  Kayla yelped, leaping to her feet.

  The shadow chirped, spread its wings, and flew off. Kayla swore. Scared by a bird! She stooped to pick up her backpack and faltered.

  Among the thicket of the trees, a pair of eyes was watching her, gleaming bright blue. They blinked and vanished.

  “Wait!” Kayla cried and made to go after the creature, when the sound of sirens cut through the air. She turned to find a cop car pulling up at the side of the road.

  In her entire life, Kayla had never hoped that her mother wouldn’t pick up the phone as much as she did in that police station. She knew her mother was about to start her shift at the hospital, but maybe she wasn’t on duty yet.

  “Is there anyone else we can call?” the officer asked, putting down the receiver, and Kayla released a sigh.

  Two hours later, Abby and her mother drove up to the station. While Rebekka signed some kind of form, Kayla and Abby waited in the car.

  “What the hell were you doing out here?” Abby asked. She frowned at Kayla. “I can’t believe you’d just run off like that without telling me!” Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes red-rimmed.

  Kayla hugged her backpack to her chest. “I wasn’t running off, Abs. I wanted to have a look. That’s all.”

  “A look at what?” Abby gestured outside the window. “There’s literally nothing here!”

  “It’s where my dad vanished,” Kayla mumbled, quiet enough she thought maybe Abby hadn’t heard.

  But she had and in an instant her frown softened. She turned around in her seat and reached out her hands toward Kayla, who took them.

  “Kay, you could’ve talked to me about this.”

  “Are you sure?” Kayla said. “And you wouldn’t have tried to tell me not to go?”

  “I—” Abby’s brown eyes flicked away. “Okay, yeah, true. But that’s just because your father… Kay, he’s gone.”

  Kayla slipped her hands out of Abby’s and leaned into her seat again, staring out the window at the police station. The door swung open and Rebekka emerged, shielding her face against the setting sun with her hand.

  She sat in the driver’s seat with a huff, started the engine, and turned on the AC without a look at either Abby or Kayla. As she shifted the car into drive, she said, “I called your mother again, Kayla, and she’s coming straight home.” Her voice was strained and distant. She pulled away from the police station, toward the interstate.

  Then she turned on the radio.

  No one spoke for the longest time. When Kayla was sure that Abby was focused enough on the road outside, she unzipped her backpack and glanced inside.

  It was still there. Her father’s watch. A crack split the glass, but otherwise it was intact, ticking away the minutes.

  If it hadn’t been for those gleaming eyes, Kayla would have never looked that way and she would have missed the watch in the underbrush. The glint of gold had caught her gaze, and she’d lunged for it seconds before the officer had stopped her.

  She looked at the watch now, the leather weathered from years lying in the dirt. She took it into her hands and turned it over, running a thumb over the inscription.

  For my son.

  It was, without a doubt, her father’s, given to him by Kayla’s grandpa many years ago. And whatever had happened to it, it hadn’t burned in the wreckage’s fire that had presumably killed her father.

  Kayla put the watch on her wrist and then tugged the sleeve of her sweater over it. With tears in her eyes, she stared out of the window, listening to the steady rhythm of the road under their wheels.

  One day soon, she’d find him.

  “What were you thinking? Kayla, do you have any idea how worried I was? Something could have happened to you. Someone could have hurt you!” Her mother sat on the sofa beside her, sniffling. She was still wearing her hospital scrubs, her brown hair pulled back into a neat knot.

  Kayla ignored her. She fixed her gaze on the hallway, her eyes burning with tears. From where she was sitting, the hallway was perfectly visible. Most of the space was taken up by a tall wooden wardrobe where they kept all their winter coats. And on top of that wardrobe was a cardboard box with a name scribbled on it in fading black: Alasdair.

  One tiny, miserable box filled with some old documents, a few books, and one photo album. All that was left of Kayla’s father. Stored away, to be forgotten.

  Kayla closed one hand around her wrist of the other, feeling the watch underneath her sweater. Jaw clenched, she faced her mother, who returned her gaze with teary eyes.

  “Dad is not gone,” Kayla whispered, her voice shaking with the memory of all the arguments they’d had about this. “He’s alive.”

  “Honey…” Her mother placed a soft hand on Kayla’s. “Is that why you went there?”

  “I had to see it…” Her hand felt small and cold underneath her mother’s. She thought back to when she was little and her mother had taken her by the hand as they strolled through the woods. How it made Kayla walk with a skip in her step, hopping over protruding roots and rocks, never scared to fall down. And even if she did, her mother would always be there to catch her.

  Kayla withdrew her hand. “Dad always told me about the Fair Folk…”

  Her mother beside her stiffened, and when she spoke, her voice carried a faint tremor. “Those are just made-up stories,” she said. “It’s nothing but a superstition of his people.”

  “You act like being Scottish is a curse. What if the stories were true? What if—?”

  “Those were fairytales, Kayla. None of it was true.”

  Kayla could hear the anger simmering beneath her mother’s composure. Her hands were in her lap, grabbing the hem of her white coat.

  “Dad believed in them,” Kayla said.

  “And I don’t.” Her mother pushed back a lock of hair that had escaped her neat bun. “They do not exist and they did not take him. He is gone. And no one was responsible for his death. Except that stupid blizzard and that stupid old car.”

  “But—”

  Her mother lifted her head, revealing blotchy cheeks and tears trailing down her face. “Honey, please, you have to let him go. You’re only hurting yourself if… if you keep pretending he’s alive.”

  “I’m not pretending!” Kayla leaped to her feet, her arms trembling at her side. “I know what I saw the night he vanished. It was a sign. He’s out there somewhere.”

  “We went to his funeral…”

  “There wasn’t even a body!”

  “Because there wasn’t one left!” Fresh tears welled up in her mother’s eyes, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, failing to stifle a sob. “I’ve tried to accept that he’s gone, a-and so has Theo…”

  “He never even knew him.” Kayla clenched her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms. “Theo deserves to know his father, but—” Her voice broke off, and she forced back the tears. “But you act as if Dad never existe
d at all!”

  “Kayla… honey… you can’t hold on to a ghost,” her mother said, reaching out a hand again. “Please, I want us to be happy again, as a family.”

  Kayla glowered down at her mother, her cheeks and neck boiling. “He is not a ghost.” She pulled up the sleeve of her sweater and thrust her wrist toward her mother. “If there wasn’t a body left, how did his watch end up on the side of the road, huh?”

  Her mother’s eyes grew wide, her face as pale as her scrubs. She rose to her feet and reached out a tentative hand. “Kayla… don’t go looking for your father, please,” she said, her voice cracking. “It’s—it’s not safe. And you shouldn’t be wearing his watch.” She took another step toward Kayla.

  “I’m not taking it off. Ever.” And she would never stop looking for her father either.

  Kayla turned and ran to her room before her mother could see the tears streaming down her face.

  27

  DECEITFUL MOONLIGHT

  The scent of burning wood hung in the air, mixing with sweet buttercups and damp grass. The flames of a bonfire flickered high, brightening parts of the woods. Faeries were dancing around it, singing and clapping along to a tune that sounded from everywhere. The whole clearing amid the trees of the Whispering Woods was filled with laughter that drove away the shadows.

  Although Rhydian hadn’t wanted her to come, Kayla had followed him from the Citadel to the outskirts of the Whispering Woods. Once there, Rhydian left Kayla and went to make out with Maeve. Kayla weaved through the crowd and was soon handed a drink by a handsome faerie boy. She accepted it and took a generous sip. No need to stay away from faerie drinks anymore. She was bound to this court anyway, in more ways than she had known.

  The revel was apparently for the younger faeries. Kayla spotted Nooa in the crowd, playing a flute and stomping his feet in the dirt. Rhydian and Maeve stuck to each other like two strips of duct tape. And further back, Fay was laughing with Oilibhéar over a drink.

  Kayla downed her own drink. Another faerie boy, with spiked blue hair and sharp, high cheekbones, offered her his hand. “Would you care for a dance?” he asked.

  “Actually, yes.” Kayla tossed her empty cup to the ground and let the mysterious faerie boy lead her into the crowd, whirling and spinning.

  Her feet moved to the music as if they’d never done anything else, and her cheeks flushed. She sang along to the music, loud enough for everyone to hear. It didn’t matter; none of it did. Somehow, she ended up dancing with a girl whose dress was far too short and whose hands were all over Kayla’s body.

  Kayla gazed around, at those beautiful creatures with fair faces and pointed ears. Apart from the occasional horned head, green hair, or dark skin, most faeries weren’t that different from her. But she knew now that actually she wasn’t that different from them.

  As she watched a girl sway past her, Kayla thought of Dahlia’s words. Just because there are two courts of faeries doesn’t mean one of them is benevolent and the other isn’t. But she couldn’t see any evil in them. She had seen evil in the trickster faeries, though…

  Kayla’s mind latched onto another string of words Dahlia had said. If the queen finds out I told you… Wasn’t it Ophira’s intention to help Kayla find her father? But Dahlia hadn’t found her dad. Instead, she had revealed something else, something that the queen wasn’t supposed to know.

  Kayla shook her head to force out her confusing thoughts. She drank more faerie wine, ate some mushrooms and nuts, and danced. Her head was light, but not as light as her body, and her feet never ached. As the moon climbed higher into the sky, Kayla never stopped moving, until it was no longer the girl with the short dress dancing with her—it was Fay.

  “What’re you doin’?” Kayla said, slurring her words.

  Fay’s hand settled low on Kayla’s hip, warm through the gossamer fabric of her dress. She closed her other hand around Kayla’s wrist. “Taking you home.”

  A choked giggle escaped Kayla’s throat. “Home? Where even is that?” She staggered forward a step, bumping into Fay.

  “Maybe a walk for some fresh air would be the better option.”

  And before Kayla could even protest, they had turned their backs on the revel and were walking further into the woods. The thick trees swallowed the music and laughter, and the moon cast an eerie glow through the canopy of leaves.

  “But the Whishpering Wuuds are dansherous.” Kayla’s tongue wasn’t working the way she wanted it to, and she couldn’t control her own laughter.

  “Not where we’re going,” Fay said.

  Somewhere close by a twig snapped, and Kayla turned her head toward the source. She saw two figures leaning against a tree, partially hidden in the shadow of another, but it was still obvious they were kissing. One of the figures moved his head down to the other person’s neck and even in the dim light Kayla recognized Nooa’s dark hair and iron-gray eyes; they widened in shock.

  “What is it?” the other person asked, drawing away from Nooa and following his gaze. All the color drained from Oilibhéar’s face.

  “Don’t mind us,” Kayla called. Fay turned back around too. When she saw her friend standing inches away from Oilibhéar, with disheveled hair and dilated pupils, her jaw dropped for a moment.

  But she regained her composure at once. “She’s right,” she said. “Don’t mind us. We won’t tell.” With a wink at an astounded Nooa and an embarrassed Oilibhéar, she tugged at Kayla’s hand. “Now, time to sober up!”

  The trees widened into a field of flowers, rimmed by all kinds of shrubs and bushes. Water was cascading down a ledge, splashing into a pond that glimmered silver in the moonlight. Slick moss clung to the stone and colorful mushrooms popped out of cracks in the hard surface.

  “Did y’know ‘bout N—” Kayla hiccoughed, and her stomach churned. “Oh god, no.” She pressed a hand to her mouth and sank onto the damp grass. Its coolness was soothing against her bare arms and legs.

  Apart from birds chirping in the distance, the entire world was quiet. The exact opposite of the turmoil raging inside Kayla. Every thought moved too fast for her to get a hold on them. It was as if watching a movie that was sped up and where the music was way too loud. And her stomach ached. She lay down on her back, squeezing her eyes shut.

  And then it was just her and spinning earth. She didn’t know where Fay had gone. She didn’t even know if they were still in the same universe. Kayla had left her own body, floating above herself lying in the grass. The worst part was she didn’t even care. The honeysuckle wine had drawn all sense of reason from her and had taken all her worries with it.

  “Kayla? Kayla!”

  Had she drifted off to sleep? There was no way of telling, because suddenly there was no difference between sleeping and being alive. Kayla could’ve even died and not felt anything, but she was still breathing.

  She flung her eyes open and found Fay leaning over her with a culm of grass clasped in her hand. A single droplet clung to its tip, glinting in the moonlight.

  “You need to drink this,” Fay told her.

  Kayla’s eyes flicked from Fay to the moon in the sky and back to Fay again. Maybe it was the dim light or the alcohol, but Fay looked different, more unearthly than she ever had. Her skin shimmered with a golden glow underneath.

  The culm hovered over Kayla’s mouth, but the drop didn’t fall. Not wanting to take any more risks, Kayla responded through gritted teeth, “I think I had ‘nuff for the night.”

  “It’ll make you feel better.”

  Her stomach twisted in pain, and Kayla couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “That’s just a drop of dew.”

  The world might have stopped moving, but Fay hadn’t. Sense told Kayla that she was still leaning over her, with the culm in her hand, but that wasn’t the way she saw it. It was just her face, her beautiful face marked with worry, hovering in the air.

  The tips of her gold ringlets grazed her collarbone. Her eyes, dark and green and eerie like the forest, stared down at
Kayla, and her pink lips were parted and—

  Kayla reached up a hand, placed it in the nape of Fay’s neck, and pulled her down. Their mouths collided, hard at first. Fay strained against Kayla’s firm hold, but her lips didn’t leave Kayla’s, and then they were kissing, really kissing.

  A sharp, tingling sensation started from Kayla’s lips down her body, engulfing every single nerve, and her heart pounded faster than it ever had. Kayla feared it might jump right out of her chest.

  But it didn’t. Because Fay’s body was now on hers, warm and comforting, and holding all the pieces together, and Fay’s hand was in Kayla’s hair. Fay was propped up on her other arm and Kayla felt her tremble as their tongues brushed.

  While the universe had no longer existed minutes ago, it was now filled with only one thing: Fay. The taste of her lips. Her damp grass scent that blended with the woods. Soft, cool skin under Kayla’s fingertips.

  Kayla wanted to open her eyes, to find out if this was just a dream, but she was afraid it was. She pressed her lips harder on Fay’s, desperate to stay like this for as long as possible.

  But Fay pulled away, and her lips were replaced by something cold and wet. The dewdrop trickled into Kayla’s mouth before she could comprehend what was happening. It tasted how Kayla imagined a rainbow would, sweet and clear.

  Kayla leaped to her feet, sending Fay into retreat. The feeling of betrayal was bitter in her mouth. “What the—? Did you just kiss me? To trick me?”

  “You kissed me.” Fay tugged a lock behind her ear, revealing flushed cheeks. “Besides, you’re already much better.”

  I’m not, Kayla wanted to yell, but the moment she thought those words, she realized her head was no longer clouded by the alcohol. It was as if the daze caused by the drink had… evaporated and the memory of it was all that remained. With it gone, Kayla’s head began playing the images she’d tried to keep out.