by Vanessa Skye
He holds out an elbow, and I link my arm through his as we walk out of my room and onto the arched bridge once more.
The trees twinkle in the night, and I step forward to take a closer look. The sparkling isn’t coming from the lanterns I saw earlier but from tiny fireflies buzzing around the branches. The result is beautiful, and I now understand how apt the expression fairy lights is.
I swallow the lump in my throat as the magical feeling of this place tugs at the memories of Mom’s stories and threaten to overwhelm me.
We walk over various bridges linking the homes and buildings together, with me death-gripping Baird’s arm as I wobble my way over the suspended rope platforms.
Soon enough, the loud hum of laughter and chatter draws near, and we stop in the open doorway of the arched double doors.
I can’t help but grin the moment we step inside the large room filled with fae, of all ages, each decked out in their finest. An endless supply of lanterns bounce a rainbow of stars in every imaginable color all over the room, pulling my gaze with them—from walls and ceiling to glittering clothes and laughing faces.
As the fae mingle, eating bites of food covering every inch of tabletop and drinking wine from shining silver goblets, I watch them carefully. While some of them look like Baird and me—human in appearance—others look like creatures out of Greek mythology.
Many of what I assume are wind fae have long folded wings, the white feathers almost touching the floor as they walk. I can only guess, but judging by the sheer size, their wings must spread at least twice as wide as the fae are tall. They also have colored down-like feathers instead of eyebrows and eyelashes. Their alien beauty takes my breath away.
Others have long strands of ivy and vines instead of hair twisting, tumbling, and dragging across the wooden floor behind them as they move. One fae uses his long vines to snag a pewter goblet off a tray being carried by a beautiful woman then smiles at her and winks.
There are others with warm brown eyes like Rhiannon’s and long mud-packed dreadlocks woven with shiny crystals. They must be earth fae.
I realize these creatures are noticing me noticing them when more gazes meet my own as I move from face to face. I remember Baird’s order not to stare and look away, shutting my mouth with a pop, but not before I spot a group of fae with long, twisted gray horns and gold cat-like eyes peering at me curiously.
The most amazing of them all are what I assume are the water fae. They have gill slits on either side of their necks, long silvery-white, reed-like hair, and blue and green scales scattered across their temples and cheekbones. Their clothes appear to be made of fashioned together fish, shark, and crocodile skins, but I can’t help wondering if they have scales on the rest of their bodies.
In the middle of the four long tables, stands the most amazing blond woman I have ever seen contorting her graceful body in an exotic dance as a group of fae play music on elegant, yet unfamiliar, instruments behind her. She is so stunning she makes the Kerrs, Jolies, and Ambrosios back home look homely.
One by one, each member of her enthralled audience falls silent as they catch sight of Baird and me standing in the doorway, until even the dancer stills and the music ceases. The room is quiet but for the sizzling crackle of the fire.
With all eyes on us, I feel incredibly self-conscious, and a flush makes its way across my chest, up my neck, and covers my cheeks.
Rhiannon rushes forward. “Welcome, honored guests! How fine you both look this evening.” She turns to the hushed fae. “Friends! Please welcome Baird and his daughter, Alys, of the southern peoples.”
Cries of welcome and beannachtaí echo around the room.
“Please, join me at the table of my family,” she says, waving the way.
We walk to the center table, closest to the performers, and a few males whistle quietly as I pass.
The dancer shoots a hard, unfriendly glare my way, and I wonder what I could have possibly done from the door to here to offend her.
The music begins again, but the blonde doesn’t continue dancing. Instead, she stalks out of the hall with her nose in the air.
Fae jostle each other as they make room and the low hum of talking resumes once more. Eventually, after much shoving and bickering, space clears next to Rhiannon.
I sit closest to her, and Baird settles on my right. To Rhiannon’s left are two male fae—one grown and the other about my age.
“May I introduce my beloved husband, Avery, and our son, Breandán.”
They both rise and bow their heads in greeting, and we do the same.
Avery wears a metal circlet like mine, but even without it, I would know he is a war fae simply by all the angry scars covering his face and the parts of his body I can see.
We all sit while plates piled high are placed in front of us. Wine is poured into our waiting goblets and large portions of sizzling, juicy meat are offered.
My stomach growls, reminding me exactly how long it’s been since my last shared bite with Baird.
“The gown is made for you, Alys. You must keep it,” Rhiannon says as we eat.
“It’s so beautiful, thank you, but I can’t possibly keep it,” I reply and pick up the lovely goblet in front of me. The oily colors coating the pitted glass shimmer and shine in the lantern light as I take a sip of wine with a bit of trepidation. A light and fruity flavor washes over my tongue tasting nothing like the heavy sour stuff I once tried with Mom.
“I insist. No other fae will wear it half as well. It’s yours.”
Avery leans past his wife and raises his voice over the din. “Friend Baird, your daughter is indeed a great beauty. Perhaps she will be the one to finally convince our reluctant king to marry.”
Baird nods and smiles weakly. “Perhaps.”
“And she of war, no less! If this does not induce Nuadha to take a bride, then only Danu knows what will.”
Everyone in earshot laughs, but talk of marriage makes me feel sick. Or it could be the fourth plate of food. I sit back, stuffed to the brim, and wish for a bit more room in my snug gown while I look around the hall, making accidental eye contact with more than a few fae staring at me with open appraisal.
Flushing at the scrutiny, I look away from them all. I’m used to hostile attention like the dancer gave me. The sexual glances of men, however, make me uncomfortable.
“Alys, we are in luck,” Baird says between sips of wine. “We have the great fortune to be seated next to one of the king’s generals. Please, meet Aiden.”
The fae sitting on Baird’s other side lowers his head and smiles. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, Alys.”
He is gorgeous, with green eyes similar to mine, long black hair pulled back, and a metallic band around his head. His arm and shoulder muscles bulge underneath his russet-colored silk tunic, and I can’t help but stare. He, too, is scarred on his body, but apart from one twisted pink scar along his cheek, his face is utterly perfect.
“Hell—uh, be-beannachtaí.”
“Aiden has kindly offered us passage to Éire,” Baird says. “This saves us trying to negotiate our way onto a ship this late in the season. We leave at dawn.”
“Thank you.” I smile at the general.
“Not only that, but as he is of war, he will continue your training.”
I bob my head once to let Baird know I understand.
“It will be my pleasure to do so,” Aiden says with a nod. “I rarely have the chance to instruct such a beautiful student. I will be greatly interested to see what you can do.”
I blush and look at my hands twisting in my lap.
“As I understand, your weapons were stolen?” Aiden asks Baird.
“They were. However, Rhiannon has been kind enough to replace them. The Talentless were many in number, and sadly, the two of us were no match for their ambush.”
“Under my instruction, your faeling will blossom. Such an atrocity will never happen again.”
“Aiden?” a female voice as smooth as honey asks.
; I look up and see the stunning blonde dancer with lovely light green eyes and high cheekbones standing at Aiden’s side and smelling of everything good in the world—vanilla, chocolate, and jasmine.
“Perhaps you would care to dance with me now, as you promised?” she asks, swaying slightly and showing off her slim curves in the snug white gown before stroking a finger across the handsome general’s smooth cheek.
“Later, Aife. I am getting to know my latest traveling companions. Please, meet Baird and Alys,” he says.
Aife barely acknowledges our existence with a dark glance flicked in our general direction and mutters something sounding like Beannachtaí with complete disinterest.
“Aife is the most in-demand performer in all of Tír na nÓg,” Aiden says. “You are fortunate to have arrived here this night.”
Flashing him a stunning smile, Aife glows at his words. “You sure you won’t dance?” She pokes out a full rosy bottom lip and glides a hand over the long thick braids wrapped around her head before following the intricately knotted hair to the end and pulling everyone’s focus to her perfect backside.
Her expression is so heartbreaking that even I’m tempted to dance with her.
“Later, Aife.” Aiden pats her hand. “However, Breandán is unable to keep his eyes off you. Perhaps it would be appropriate to indulge the son of your host?”
She flounces off to ask Rhiannon’s son to dance, but not before shooting another dagger-filled scowl my way.
“She doesn’t like me very much,” I mutter to Baird, as Aiden turns to the fae on his other side.
“She is of music and used to being the center of attention. She does not like sharing the room with a woman more beautiful than her, and you are not even of music.” He snorts. “It is best to think of music fae as you might a human toddler. They can entrance you if they so desire, and make you love them fiercely, but if they do not get their way, they will throw a tantrum.”
Feeling overwhelmed by everything that’s happened today, and certain Baird is half-lit given the more beautiful comment, I mutter some excuses and head toward a side door for some fresh air. I feel the stares of multiple sets of eyes on me as I squeeze between tables but pay them no mind. Fortunately, Aife is nowhere to be seen, so I am spared her glares.
Stepping onto a large planked verandah wrapped around a nearby massive tree, I take a few deep breaths and enjoy being alone in the cool air that is such a contrast to the thick meaty air inside.
Then, I look up and gasp. This high in the treetops, the night sky is finally visible. It is unlike any I’ve seen before. Millions of stars—large, small, and everything in between—twinkle above me in the endless indigo darkness, making it appear almost crowded. The stars radiate a rainbow beyond the simple white I am used to seeing. Among the glimmering stars, puffy clouds float past misted with hints of subtle color—as though some god airbrushed them just so, fading one shade gently into the next—creating a scene so alive, it defies description.
I realize I’m looking at what must be the Milky Way and possibly other nebula we couldn’t see through the thick layer of pollution at home. It’s as though the scenery and natural phenomenon on Earth only live up to about one fifth of its potential. Here, everything is animated and flourishing. The difference is staggering.
Lost to the amazing, but strange, sights around me, I have no idea how long I wander around the verandah in circles, spellbound.
That spell is broken by the sound of raised voices coming from below.
I peer over the thick vine railing and see, about twenty feet under me, a group of four fae about my age, including Aife and Breandán, crowded around a huddled figure. I’m too far away to make out what they are saying, but judging by the nasty tone, it is not a friendly conversation.
The figure whimpers as the fae tease and sneer.
I gasp, recognizing the serving girl Rowan.
The fae teens have her backed against the vines, cowering with each comment they make, until she ends up on her knees trying to hide within the leaves to get away from them. The fall beyond the railing is certain death for anyone who is not a wind fae.
Anger stabs through me, and before I can think about it, I bound over the railing and fall to the level below, landing so lightly on the balls of my feet that no one hears me. The rational part of me registers and marvels at my gracefulness, but I’m only listening to the angry side as the pressure builds in my head, and I creep up behind them.
“Push her over the edge,” Aife says, nudging Breandán forward with her shoulder.
I don’t know why I ever thought she was pretty at all. The sweet-as-honey voice I heard upstairs is long gone, and her face is twisted with bitterness and hate, turning her once-gorgeous features into a perverse Halloween masked version of her former self. It reminds me of Matt’s sneer.
“She is just a Talentless. No one will miss her.”
Breandán is staring at Aife with a look of total adoration written on every inch of him, and I have no doubt he will do anything she says. I remember Baird saying manipulation was one of the music fae’s strengths, and Aife obviously has it in spades. Why she would use her talents to terrorize a serving girl is beyond me.
Poor Rowan is shaking, clutching onto the vines behind her so tightly her knuckles are white. “P-please don’t…”
“Do it!”
As soon as the order leaves her lips, the scent around Aife shifts. Pine overpowers her sweet vanilla and chocolate aroma. The sharp, intense resin stench is so strong that I detect it from ten feet away.
Egged on by Aife and the other two fae watching like drooling dogs waiting for the kill, Breandán stalks toward a crying Rowan.
A growl rumbles deep within me. “Is this what you do for fun?”
They all whip around. Judging by the wide eyes and shocked expressions, they’re shocked that they have a witness.
Aife recovers first. “What do you care? This is no concern of yours, ugly stranger.”
They turn their focus back to their victim, and Breandán steps toward Rowan once more with his hands twisted into claws.
The horror in Rowan’s eyes when she looks at me is so profound and desperate it causes tears to gather in mine. I recognize her fear. It’s the same feeling I carried with me nearly every day for close to four years. The terror, the powerlessness, and the shame all hit me at once.
No more.
“You know what I hate? Bullies,” I whisper.
Aife turns, ready to have another go at me. “Who do y—”
I raise my hand, palm up, and release a tiny grain of my power.
The others, curious what stopped her nasty retort, I’m sure, glance at Aife then me.
Her jaw drops and her eyes widen, and one by one, they each take a large step back.
A blue and white fireball churns and glows in my hand, the colors dancing and arcing as if dying to be set free. The heat it emits is potent, but it doesn’t burn me.
I stalk forward a few short steps, until I’m standing beside Rowan, while the group scatters in every direction that leads away from me.
I turn and face the mob. “If you want to kill an innocent girl for sport, you will have to go through me. Who’s first?” I ask and stretch my arm out in front of me.
They all take another step back.
“It’s a trick,” Aife whispers. “It has to be.”
“Care to find out?” I ask, enlarging the fireball by half. It spins wildly, barely contained.
They all flinch as they feel the heat on their faces.
Now the terror is in their eyes, and I can’t hide my smirk. “You’re all so brave until you come up against someone who can obliterate you in a second. Be careful who you pick on,” I whisper and narrow my eyes.
They all nod fervently.
Two figures step out of the shadows behind the mob, slinking silently forward in the semi-darkness.
One rushes me and grabs my arm.
Baird.
“Put it out, n
ow, Alys!”
I clench my fist and the fireball pops like a bubble.
Aiden turns on Breandán and Aife, grabbing the napes of the other two males. “What is going on here?” While he is only slightly taller than the boys, there is no doubt who is stronger, and they wince in his hard grasp. “Tell me!” he yells.
I take one step toward them. “I’ll tell you. These four were going murder an innocent girl, simply because they are bullies and she’s different! So I made them stop.”
Aiden looks at me with one raised brow. “So you did, Alys.” He focuses his attention back on the group, glaring at each of them in turn with his penetrating gaze. Finally, he stares at Aife. “Release them. Now.”
“Bu—”
“I said now!”
There’s no ignoring Aiden’s order, and Aife lowers her eyes.
A few seconds later, the three boys rub their faces, and shake their heads to rid themselves of Aife’s overwhelming control. All of them avoid her gaze.
Rhiannon races into the middle of the gathering crowd. “What is happening here?”
“It seems some teasing of the Talentless got out of control, and Alys had to intervene,” Aiden says. “No permanent damage was done.”
Rhiannon studies the downcast teenagers and then looks at Rowan, who is clearly still terrified with tears streaming down her face as she crouches on the floor, before turning back to the others. “Do you find it satisfying to hurt someone who poses no threat to you?” she asks the three teenaged boys.
They all shake their heads.
“Is this how you have been raised?”
They shake their heads again.
“I’m afraid they were manipulated by the beautiful Aife,” Aiden says. “For what reasons, I cannot say.”
Rhiannon glares at Aife. “Gather your belongings and leave this forest immediately. If you step foot on this land again, you will be welcomed with an arrow through your evil heart.”
Aife hesitates and glances at Aiden as if he’s in charge.
“I do not give second chances. Go!” Rhiannon yells, pointing toward the darkness.
Aife flees, disappearing into the night.
“And you…” Rhiannon faces her son. “Is this how a future leader behaves? Taking advantage of the downtrodden because a pretty fae wants you to? You have brought great shame upon yourself and this community this night. I never thought you to be so weak-minded!”