“Oh, maybe a time or so.” Yalda’s chubby cheeks flushed pink. “I used to like to dance round that plant in me younger days. There’ll be plenty o’ dancin’ tonight, for sure. Maybe I can get this old codger to give me a spin.” She poked Relic in the ribs.
Esme laughed. “That I want to see.”
Thayne chuckled and offered his arm. “The sun’s just setting. Let’s go to the dining hall.”
She accepted his help and leaned against him as her stiff legs failed to cooperate.
In the center of the wide ravine, a group of male faeries laid a bonfire. Dozens of lanterns lit two stage areas on either facing hillside, and workers scurried back and forth setting up drums and other instruments.
A short walk past the common area, they entered a wide dugout filled with long planked tables and bench seats. Serving as columns, massive tree trunks and exposed roots braced the open front section, while the back had been cut from the limestone bedrock. Lanterns hanging from the ceiling cast a festive yellow glow, and a central double-sided fireplace warmed the massive room. Servers laid platters and covered dishes on the long table closest to the kitchen.
Aromas of roast meats and herbed root vegetables tempted Esme’s nose, but her stomach churned and pained with the battle underway inside her. She held her abdomen. “It smells so good, but I don’t think I have any appetite.”
“Please have a seat at my king’s table. You, too, Sire Relic and Yalda. Please join me.” Thayne gestured to a solitary table near the hearth where the stern male faery she’d seen at the healers’ cave already sat.
He stood and bowed stiffly when they approached.
Thayne helped Esme onto the bench, then took a seat beside her, with the grim faery on his other side. “Last night you asked me what it was like to be fae. Now I want to give you a more complete answer. While you presently feel ill from your clashing magic, I have a fae charm that will silence the witch inside you for a short while. Grammy Flora showed you what it’s like being a witch. I would like to show you what it’s like to be fae, to help you better know the two magics so you may wisely choose between them.”
Esme’s eyes widened as he withdrew something from his pocket. In his palm lay a silver ring wrought with delicate leaf prongs which held a pale blue opaque stone. “This belonged to my younger sister Crimson, who was born a mortal.”
The faery beside Thayne flinched and his gray eyes popped. “My King, pardon my interruption, but my role as your counsel deems it necessary for me to inform you that this action is ill-advised.”
“I do not wish to accept your advice on this matter, Grayson. If you cannot contain your opinion, please find another table.” Thayne continued to Esme, his tone softened. “While my mother was fae, far back in her lineage a mortal’s blood became mixed into the family and exhibited again in Crimson. My mother’s sibyls crafted this ring for Crimson to wear so she might experience a close approximation of life as a faery. The aragonite gem encouraged inclusion and combatted her loneliness. Sadly, the one thing it couldn’t do was give her immortality. The charm fed from mother to daughter. Although my mother has passed, I hope a little of her magic remains for you tonight, if you’re willing.”
With trembling fingers, Esme took the ring. The aragonite’s smooth surface glimmered, as if commanding her to move forward and choose fae or witch, and leave her father behind. She gave an uncertain smile, knowing Thayne intended only to help. “It seems to be alive.” While she understood and appreciated Thayne’s intent and did want to learn about the fae world, fear of the unknown gripped her muscles and turned them to bands of steel. “The effects are temporary? Only as long as I wear the ring?”
When he nodded, she slipped it onto her ring finger.
Chapter Eighteen: First Quarter Night
The moment Esme placed the ring on her finger, the battle inside her ceased. Her skin tingled softly and glowed as if lit from within. She extended her fingers, now moving freely without stiffness, and stared at a star-like brilliance that almost lifted away from the smooth, light blue aragonite.
She looked up and everything and everyone in the dining hall appeared altered. She drew a hand reflexively to her talisman and gasped. “What happened?”
“Did the ring work?” Thayne asked. “Tell me what you see? Describe how I look.”
“Like before, your eyes have purple and green streaks, but they’re much brighter. The same with your hair, the black is more iridescent. And you have braids with silver and garnets along your face. Your skin is different, still pale but like there’s light underneath, luminous. And…oh, this is so cool…you have tattoos of white frost along your neck and on your hands.”
“The magic’s working.” When he smiled, the glow under his alabaster skin heightened, in sharp contrast with his black leather jacket and pants. “For now, you have The Sight and see our world as it truly is without glamour.” Translucent black wings tucked close to his shoulder blades. She’d felt them around her when they kissed, though she’d never seen them. Could he fly? Before she could ask him, the question was overwhelmed by new wonders in every direction.
The plain black, gray, and winter white clothing of the fae was replaced with remarkable costumes that, upon closer inspection, were actual extensions of their bodies. Many of the younger women wore ice crystal body jewelry in an array of blue and white hues. Frost patterns, like sparkling embroidery, threaded along collars, cuffs, and hems, then continued onto the faeries’ skin.
Details of the dining area appeared different. Elaborate carvings of holly leaves and berries now festooned the root and trunk columns. The hanging lanterns rotated and emitted sparkling light. Previously rough plank tables shone with richly polished luster. The platters of food brimmed with greater abundance: roast fowl, tureens of creamed soups, golden loaves, dozens of berry pastries and cakes.
Esme sat in awe at the transformation and beauty of the fae world.
From across the table, Yalda startled Esme with a touched on her hand. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” The matronly faery’s chubby cheeks flushed a delicate rosebud pink and her eyes shone like stars. Silver frost flowers trimmed her white pinafore apron.
Esme nodded, dumbfounded. “I had no idea.” She noticed her own hand that Yalda had touched. The fae ring shone with a star on fingers that had lengthened, delicate and graceful. She looked down and discovered she wore a beautiful dress of frost lace, tight in the bodice and spilling into a flared skirt. Her hair, adorned with sparkling ice crystals, had grown more than a foot, spiraling to her waist.
Relic let out a peel of his tinkling laughter, with soft undernotes of crystal wind chimes that Esme had loved since childhood. Like his wife, his cheery face radiated with more color, touched with the ruddy shade of ripe raspberries.
“Esmeralda, welcome to First Quarter Night,” a female voice said from the far end of the king’s table. A woman Esme struggled to remember seemed to recognize her. “I’m Marzanna, the hostess at the pizza place when you and our king had dinner the other night.”
“Oh, yes.” Esme’s eyes widened. Vines of frosted leaves curled around the faery’s curvaceous body as if growing from her skin. Small transparent wings, tipped with frost, fluttered like chiffon. Once past the surprise of Marzanna’s appearance, Esme recognized several in the crowd who she’d seen working in town, never having any clue they were fae.
A crowd of a few hundred flew or walked into the dining hall, some so fantastical that Esme stared.
Thayne touched her hand. “Let’s fill our plates.” He rose and offered her his arm.
Almost too excited to be hungry, Esme took small samples of everything.
“Be sure to get a big helpin’ of me wife’s quail pie.” Relic motioned to a row of golden-crusted meat pies, and Esme accepted the large slice he offered.
Back at their table a server poured a pale liquid into pewter goblets, and Thayne held up a hand. “Only a third full for our guest. She may find our wine too strong.”
&nb
sp; Esme swirled the glass under her nose. A smooth mint bouquet made her long for a beautiful frozen forest pond that seemed familiar, yet she couldn’t remember visiting. Detailed in her mind’s eye, its stillness was protected on all sides by high hills and thick mist. She chanced a tiny sip and skated across the ice, and the chill in the air tickled her cheeks. With a gasp she set the goblet down, unsure what to think of the strange drink or how it would affect her.
Thayne leaned close. “What did it taste like?”
She thought for a moment. “Like mint and cold and magic.”
He chuckled. “As it should taste. Like the magic of winter.”
She cautiously forked a bite of Yalda’s pie. “Does the food here have that much magic?”
“No, but it’s amazing, nonetheless,” he replied with a grin.
The crust of the pie flaked and melted in her mouth. The sagey quail meat warmed her throat and eased the persistent soreness. She sampled each new dish and found most to her liking, but kept returning to the meat pie, finishing her entire piece.
After those at the king’s table began the procession through the desserts, Captain Shade approached their table. Goblet in one hand, he braced himself with the other. “Misssses Meralda, how’re ya likin’ our First Quarter’s Night?” The endings of his words slurred. His narrowed-brimmed hat, festooned tonight with a hatband of ribboned gray smoke, hung low over one eye. Wings of the same smoke jutted at odd angles through the back of his jacket that had been buttoned wrong.
“It’s wonderful. I never knew it was like this.”
He lifted his glass and took a deep drink. “You gotta have some more wine ta really see. Don’tcha, Cobweb?” He spun around as if looking for the faery who wasn’t present. “Cobweb, come ’ere.”
A spritely, short faery zipped to the king’s table and bowed her head, goblet also in hand. Her hair of long silver threads floated in all directions, as if charged with static. “My King, and Esmeralda, Sire Relic, and Yalda, how nice to see you all on this lovely, wintry First Quarter Night filled with fine food and spearmint wine, which I thank our king for authorizing us to enjoy before Solstice, and thank you, Miss Esmeralda for bringing the season’s change to us early.” Her animated movements caused her hair to twitch and catch the light like dew-covered spider’s webs. Esme understood how the faery had received her name.
A whirlwind of sound, like hundreds of flutes, swept into the dining area.
“Time to dance.” Shade tugged Cobweb’s arm toward the door.
Heartened by their happy state, Esme took another and larger swallow of the spearmint wine. Would the next taste give the same result as before? Did it affect the winter fae like it did her? Her mouth exploded with the peace of a sunny winter’s day. She cupped a hand to her lips, and, for a second, was afraid to swallow until giggles rose up her windpipe and bubbled through the liquid passing down.
Esme floated on Thayne’s arm to the bonfire where music captured her feet and set them in motion. Together they swept in circles around the crackling blaze. Flutes, both shrill and mellow, blended with drums and percussion sounds she’d never heard.
Lazy snowflakes, large as dinner plates, drifted through the air. Fae children caught them and traded amongst each other.
In the arms of a partner, Halcyon whirled past. Her layered gown, which Esme had admired before, now included edgings of white crystals and a diaphanous train that lifted into the air with each turn the couple made. What would it be like to work as a fae healer with access to all this magic? Under the effects of the wine, the thought slipped away when Thayne spun her under his arm.
It seemed as if the spin ended at Holly Cabin with the pink of dawn kissing the horizon. They stood on her front porch with Dove rubbing against her bare ankles.
Thayne took her hands into his. The northern lights in his pupils ebbed. “Though I’m sorry this night had to end, Crimson’s ring did as I’d hoped and showed you what our world is like. Keep the ring and take it off when you’re ready. I think you need some time alone with the sensation of fae. You have a decision to make, between fae and witch. At least now you know one from the other to make a wise choice.” His words said one thing, but his quivering expression quite another. He didn’t want her to choose life as a witch.
Esme glanced away, unable to answer the look in his eyes. She wanted to please him, but it was important she decide what was right for herself. How would she learn a whole new life as a faery? Everything in his world overwhelmed her. And it seemed unlikely she was a winter faery. What with the malevolent wayward power that threatened so forcefully to kill her, she seemed aligned with the Autumn Court. The Winter Court was strange enough. She’d never be able to accept the life of the Autumn Court. Did Thayne expect her to let go of her witch blood without knowing what court she belonged to? She shivered. The risk was huge. She could end up part of the Autumn Court and without connection to Thayne, her father, or her mother. And Grammy was gone. A heavy weight pressed against Esme’s chest, and her breathing grew shallow.
Thayne’s hands slid from hers.
The movement snapped her focus to the present moment, and she reached her arms around his shoulders. Not wanting to think about the decision she faced, she pressed her lips against his, wishing the kiss could last forever.
He met her kiss with passion, pulling her to him with both arms and wings that sheltered her from the world. Did he read her fears?
Her senses expanded into realms she’d glimpsed when they’d kissed before. She hungered to see more, know more. A soft blanket of snow cushioned her feet in a forest where no harm could come to her if she were his.
His hands moved along the curve of her back and held her hips tight against his. His tongue probed her mouth, as if also desperately seeking something.
She pushed into him, wanting him and his world. She drank in new smells she’d never known: sugary sweet snowflakes, buttery melting frost trickling down cupped leaves, and tangy crick water that rippled over smooth stones.
With the music of each image, Thayne’s energy sang, louder and faster, mingling with her own senses. His need to define his independence almost overwhelmed her own, then altered into a hypnotic harmony.
He broke away and stepped back, only their fingertips touching. “I have to stop. It’s unfair to you. You must decide without my influence.” Through their tenuous touch, she felt both his yearning and his regret.
“Thank you…for everything,” she murmured, unable to sort out what had happened between them during the kiss.
A sad grin lifted one corner of his lips. “Normally I cast a charm and blow the lavender from the pot in your bedroom window across the house at night to help you sleep. Now that we know it blocks your realization of powers, I will refrain. There will be pain again like you felt before.”
“Is there any way, before I decide, to know what type of fae I might be?” she asked. “Other than my father or mother telling me, which may not be possible?”
Thayne lowered his head. “I’m afraid not. If it could be known, Cryptic would have found out.”
“Making a choice without knowing that scares me. I’m so grateful you showed me the Winter Court tonight, but I don’t know what the other courts are like. What if I choose fae over witch and end up in the Autumn Court? Can faeries change courts?”
He gave a slow nod. “They can, although the two minor courts will exact reprisal, far worse with the Autumn Court than the Spring.”
“What might be expected?”
“A fine or work penance to the Spring Court.” His voice dropped to an almost inaudible utterance. “In the other, physical mutilation.”
She bit her lip. “Do you have any guess what sort of fae magic I have?”
He looked to the hedge, as if checking on his guards. She expected it was an excuse to avoid eye contact. “The clues I’ve seen indicate either my court or Raclaw’s.” He twisted a large garnet ring around his finger. His chest heaved and he continued. “What I’ve witn
essed seems to point toward the Autumn Court. I really wish I knew with certainty. More than anything. But I don’t.”
“If I choose fae and end up in that court, will you help me change to yours?”
“I will do anything I can to help you, with that or if Raclaw makes another attempt on your black amber. Or with the Burnhard criminal case.” He offered a weak smile. “I need to go. If you are in need, call out to the Winter Court patrols in the hedge. I will be notified and come at once.” He kissed her on the cheek and slipped quickly back into the forest.
The hedge where he vanished lay silent, as if nothing unusual had happened that night. Had it been real? Esme looked at her hand for the ring. Still there, points of light from the aragonite mesmerized her.
Dove meowed at the door.
Facing the potential dangers, Esme shivered. Everything had seemed so safe while she was at the Winter Court. Sibeal’s threat, if Esme didn’t drop her involvement in the potential murder case, haunted her as she opened the door and went into the bedroom.
She hadn’t slept but didn’t feel tired. In the dresser mirror, she caught sight of herself and gasped. With every motion her dress, hair, and even her skin glittered. Her complexion glowed with inner white light, and her cheeks were the exact pink of Grammy’s rambling roses. Her image was beautiful. She stepped sideways to prove it wasn’t a trick of magic. The image moved with her. Only her eyes looked the same, the cobalt-blue eyes of her father. Would that soon be all that remained of her connection to him? She looked down, wishing there was another way.
A thin ray of sunlight streamed through the window and jogged her thoughts. She checked her cell phone for messages from Rowe or Logan but found none. She’d been out of touch over the Thanksgiving holiday and First Quarter Night at the Winter Court and hoped they’d found a lead.
The phone’s display reminded her it was Saturday. The market would open in three hours. Right after Thanksgiving, it was the most important shopping day of the year. Panic shot through her. Her mind raced. Was gaining respect as a hedge witch healer in the coven still her goal? Her father had forced a decision on her. Which way did she want to go? She wasn’t ready to decide. Even if she could choose between fae and witch, how would she expel one out of her? Without answers to looming questions, keeping to her established path seemed the logical choice for now.
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