The Honoured Guest

by Destiny, Aurelia

  She was suddenly terrified of him and shrank back Please don’t hurt me. She pleaded silently.

  His silver eyes narrowed angrily on her face for a long, tense moment, his golden eyes penetrating as if into her very soul, and then he very slowly relaxed.

  Ignoring her instinctive shudder, and the manner in which the mortal flinched in fear, his hand went to her face, and cupped it gently.

  “Forgive me, Maiden. The land through that portal is the home of the Seelie Court. They are a very cruel and dangerous race, especially to a mortal. They will have no mercy upon you, were you to be captured,” he explained in a low voice.

  Chelsea blinked back moisture from her eyes and swallowed. She didn’t understand this man at all! One minute he was nice and the next he was dreadful! “Okay,” she whispered back shakily.

  Nuallán nodded, leading her slowly into the meadow, ignoring the many creatures that came up to peer curiously at Chelsea. She stared back at them in the same manner, barely able to recognise the Fae, and other beings, some were easy enough and she had seen them in books of mythology. Others…well, they were scary enough that her gaze quickly flitted away from them.

  A tiny creature whizzed right by her nose, so close, that she took a startled step back, staring after it in wonder.

  As Chelsea took a step into the clearing, she felt something odd, like she had just passed through some sort of...barrier. Something unseen, and yet, a very tangible force. She blinked uncertainly and looked behind her, her brows scrunching up together in a perplexed manner. What on earth was that?!

  Her hand slipped from the Fae lord's arm when he kept walking, but he halted when he realised that she was not still beside him.

  “Is something wrong?” Nuallán asked slowly, his expression rather arrested as he stared at her closely. His silver eyes flicked from her face to the forest behind her and she saw one of his hands tighten into a fist.

  Chelsea had the distinct feeling that something momentous had just occurred and the expression on the Fae lord’s face fairly screamed that he had not expected her to notice something was amiss. She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it. Something just happened, but I’d better not tell him. After Nuallán’s overreaction with the door in the huge tree, she wasn’t inclined to question him over something that made her uneasy.

  Had she just crossed some invisible, magic barrier that they all didn’t want her to know about?

  Something about the silver-haired Fae’s body language was off and Chelsea’s brain was shouting at her to act unconcerned.

  “Ah, no. No, it's nothing. I just felt a cold breeze.” she replied easily, with a smile. She ran a distracted hand through her fiery hair, not quite meeting his golden eyes.

  It was probably nothing. Right, Chelsea?

  And maybe she had been mistaken and it had been just a breeze.

  Nuallán did not look entirely convinced, his posture still stiff, but he said nothing, merely offering his arm again politely. “Come, I must escort you to our Queen.” He murmured, stroking his index finger back the back of her hand as it rested on his arm.

  As Chelsea laid her hand over his arm, again noting the coolness of the flesh beneath the silky cloth of his robes, she looked around curiously.

  The clearing was huge and fairly flat, the birch trees surrounding it in an almost perfect circle. The grass beneath their feet was deep and green, with scattered white flowers here and there.

  The bright orange of the torches that lined around the circumference of the meadow gave off a glow that was warm and inviting and Chelsea felt the tension and fear of the night seep out of her.

  The handsome lord noticed the relaxed expression on her youthful face and he smiled warmly. “Are you feeling much improved, little one?’ he questioned. “You are our guest and this celebration is for you and our Goddess. We do not want you to be fearful of us. Please let us know if there is anything we can do to make this night more…pleasurable for you.” He finished in a low tone that felt like a caress.

  Chelsea flushed red and ducked her head. Why did he have to say it like that? She groaned in embarrassment. The red-head was certain that Nuallán knew she had a crush on him. It was blindingly obvious in the way she found herself looking back at him through her lashes, a shy smile curving her lips.

  Nuallán smiled back at her and seemed about to speak, but then his head abruptly jerked to the side and he looked towards the long table in the centre of the clearing, around which the Fae Court was seated.

  She looked that way also with a frown. “Did someone call you, Nuallán?” she asked hesitantly, scanning faces to see if anyone was looking their way.

  Her heart skipped a beat when she realised that everyone was watching them.

  He turned his face back towards her just as swiftly. “Yes,” he replied after a moment, nodding his head. “Prince Finvara requests our presence.”

  Chelsea blinked at him in surprise, looking back and forth between her companion and the crowded table. “You heard that?” she questioned in disbelief. They were metres away and she hadn’t heard anyone call out. The Fae lord’s hearing must be incredible!

  “Most assuredly.” Nuallán drawled sardonically, his silver eyes darkly amused by her incredulity. “We Fae have enhanced senses, far superior to that of humans.”

  “Amazing!”

  She went back to scrutinizing the party - no, the feast. It became even clearer that the tree, in the very centre of the field of grass and flowers, was incredibly ancient and even huger than she had thought at first glance. It fairly towered over everyone and the forest itself. She wasn’t sure how she had not seen it from the other smaller clearing where she had awoken, or even from the waterfall where she had bathed. It must be hundreds of years old! Maybe a thousand.

  That thought boggled her mind.

  On the right side of the huge tree, there were two bonfires, set about two metres apart. The fire-pits both had what looked like a thick spear of wood that served as a spit for a roast, but nothing was rotating there yet. She wondered if it was for a boar, (or deer) or some other kind of woodland animal.

  They fire-pits were sunk into the ground inside a circle of grey stones that looked as if they had been used for this purpose many times. For decades or more. The stone was covered in grey and black ash from the extreme heat of the fire that had seared into its surface over time.

  Lying around the circumference of the stone were flowers of yellow and white, perhaps marigold and primrose, interwoven with twigs were deep purple grapes, and what appeared to actually be gold and silver apples.

  Chelsea peered closer, overcome with a deep need to eat that fruit. Her mouth was practically salivating until Nuallán noticed her preoccupation and gently turned her face away with a hand to her chin.

  “No,” he said firmly. “Mortals may not eat those apples.”

  “What are they?”

  “Do not ask, Maiden.” His tone was icy and forbidding, which shut the red-haired girl up immediately.

  Chelsea sighed and looked away from him, carefully not turning her eyes back towards the fires. There were many torches around the edge of the clearing, spaced evenly on wooden poles, but they were not truly needed, because the bright fullness of the moon that was almost right above them, was illuminating the forest with a silvery, ethereal glow. She could see everything.

  There were mostly Fae there, at least one hundred or more of them, but there were also a mix of dozens of other types of creatures. Some were stunningly beautiful and others were quite ugly. There were creatures that were tall and red and lanky, with dark penetrating eyes, that were almost as tall as a tree, and then there were tiny flying creatures, so small that she could not even make out their features.

  She was astounded by them all, creatures that had stepped right out of the mythology books, all alive and well in this forest, safe from mortals, who thought them nothing but the figment of someone’s imaginations.

  Chelsea realised that he
r awed staring was rude, when several creatures began to glare back and sneer at her. She bit her lip and looked down at her feet for a moment, as Nuallán spoke to another nobleman in the same beautiful robes of silk, but his colours in light blue and gold.

  The two Fae lords had noticed, and their warm chuckles made her even more embarrassed. She cast her eyes towards a huge long table set on the left side of the ancient tree, that went from one side of the clearing to the other. It was more than half full of the Fae Court and their exquisite clothing, jewels, and their elegance, made her feel even smaller and insignificant.

  Why do they bring a human here every year? They’re so beautiful and magical, what could they possibly want with someone like me? I don’t get it.’

  She focused on the table and the more she looked, the more she discovered. The table itself was of a dark wood that she thought might be oak, or perhaps it was made from the very trees that surrounded them. Engraved into every inch of the surface was beautiful, elegant, scrawling writing. It definitely wasn’t English, or any other language that she could think of, though she thought that perhaps some of the letters were Irish in origin. But far, far older than the current language of the country. The engravings were clearly magical, because they glowed with a faint golden light.

  It was a spectacular effect, though the table was covered in platters and bowls of food. There were goblets and plates of pure gold, with rubies and emeralds and other precious stones inset into the goblets. Candleholders of gold also lit up the surface of the table and gave it a welcome glow.

  The wooden surface was covered with platters of fruits and nuts and flowers, with beautiful decorations of multi-coloured flowers, ferns, and grapes adorned the centres. The plates were overflowing with food that she could smell even from meters away and made her stomach grumble. She hoped that she would be allowed to eat soon!

  Other creatures stood around the table, there were so many of them that Chelsea felt intimidated.

  The atmosphere was relaxed and cheerful, with conversations and laughter everywhere she turned; a sense of excitement in the air. The stars glittered above now that the trees didn’t block them and the moon shone right down upon them, lighting up the area as if it were almost daylight.

  It looked like a scene out of a gorgeous renaissance painting.

  “Come.” Nuallán finally finished his conversation with the other Fae lord. He took her hand gently and pulled it over his forearm, then led her towards a man standing near the roots of the ancient tree, who was speaking with several men dressed in elaborate robes.

  She had begun to see the difference between normal Fae and those that were of noble birth, thanks to the lord’s helpful low tone addressed only to her, as they strode through the crowd. He pointed out the different creatures that she had not already learned of, and offered her comfort when she looked nervous, being surrounded by so many.

  The Fae man they were approaching, had his back to her and was clad in robes of gold, black and red, his silver hair tumbling almost past his waist. He was very tall, at least six foot five, and he wore a crown of gold leaves and wood into which purple and pink flowers were woven.

  “Say nothing unless addressed,” Nuallán advised her under his breath. “He is a prince of royal blood. You must show him the greatest of respect.” He released her hand, raised his voice and gave a low, respectful bow. “Prince Finvara, our most honoured guest has arrived.”

  The prince pivoted smoothly and Chelsea saw his face with its high cheekbones, sensual lips and strong jaw. He was as beautiful as were all the others of his kind; his eyes showed intelligence, and the shoulders under his clothing betrayed his muscled form. He was clearly a warrior. His long hair was as silvery, as all the other Fae she had seen, and she wondered if pale hair and skin was the norm for them.

  The prince had eyes of gold, whereas Nuallán, and the women who had bathed her, had eyes of silver. How odd. Was it a sign of rank?

  “So I see. You have done well, Lord Nuallán,” Finvara remarked in a silky tone, his gaze intent on her face. The gaze raked down over Chelsea and then he slowly smiled as if pleased by what he saw. “Welcome, Maiden.”

  Nuallán bowed low, spoke in a quiet tone and then withdrew, after giving her a slightly undefinable look.

  She watched him go, a little bewildered that he had been so gentle and polite to her before, but had now left without even a word to her. She had not known him long, but she had trusted him. “Wait…” she called, her hand held out beseechingly, but he did not turn.

  He just abandoned me.

  Finvara’s hand slid beneath her own, icy touch making her shiver, his fingers wrapped about her hand as he raised her palm to his lips. “Lord Nuallán has duties to attend to. I will keep you company, fair one.” His golden eyes were teasing.

  Chelsea blushed and withdrew her hand, hiding it in the folds of her dress. He was so handsome! Even more so than the lord. Were there any ugly men or women here? She felt so inadequate around them.

  The prince chuckled and extended his arm towards her, waiting for her to slip her hand in the crook of his elbow, before walking slowly, moving further into the clearing toward the huge long table, where most of the Court sat talking and laughing.

  The atmosphere was so carefree and joyous that she slowly relaxed, listening, as Finvara pointed out each flying creature, and those who appeared as part of the river and trees, naming them to her. She felt eyes watching, but tried not to let it bother her. After all, she was the only human there. They probably only saw her kind once a year.

  Finvara stopped near the head of the table and escorted her to a veiled woman sitting on a beautiful throne of dark wood, dressed spectacularly in robes of white, gold, and purple, dripping in jewels and flowers. The veil went from the top of her head down to her breasts, brushing the décolletage of her gorgeous robes. Her silver hair pooled down over her shoulders and waist, right down to the ground. She wore an elaborate crown woven of gold and rubies, resting over her hair above the veil.

  “Oh, most glorious Queen, I have brought this year’s honoured guest for our feast.” Finvara bowed low and spoke with an adoring tone in their language.

  He then turned, and pushing Chelsea down with his hand on her shoulder, forced her to her knees. She stumbled and fell hard, biting back a gasp as she felt rocks beneath the thin layers of her silken robe. She felt eyes upon her and shivered, lowering her head instinctively. Soft laughing rang out from behind her, making her feel even more out of her element.

  Were they laughing at her?

  She felt so stupid kneeling there in the dirt like some animal!

  She wasn’t sure what it was about the queen, but she felt the stare as if it were a live-wire. It made her shiver in something like fear and she wondered why she was having this reaction.

  Not much could be seen through the veil, barring the faint outline of a high cheekbone, ruby red lips, and the tip of a fine nose. Chelsea had a sense that the woman was incredibly beautiful and wished that she could see her face better.

  Why did queen Mab cover her features like that?

  She stayed on her knees for several minutes as the prince spoke, but the queen strangely said absolutely nothing.

  Finally, Chelsea was brought to her feet and she sighed in relief and embarrassment as she met the amused stares of several Fae at the table. Some of the expressions appeared to be rather malicious, and others secretive, as if there was some great joke of which she were not a part.

  She was led back down the table and Finvara pulled out a spare chair next to another Fae lady, sliding it in behind her as she sat down.

  He sank gracefully into a high backed chair beside her and slid a golden goblet across the wooden table, already filled with red wine. “Drink,” he urged.

  She peered into the depths and sniffed at the goblet as she raised it to her lips. “What is it?”

  “Mulled wine made from the finest berries.”

  “But - I'm under-age!” she blurt
ed out.

  Finvara’s brows drew in slightly, as if he didn't understand. An Elf flew near to his ear and whispered something and the prince laughed aloud. “I see! You need have no concern, Maiden - the rules of your Realm do not apply here. At fifteen winters you have lived long enough to have been hand-fasted and bear children.”

  Chelsea stared at him in an appalled manner. Hand-fasted? Did he mean married? And with kids? She hesitated, but didn't want to appear naïve and offend the prince, so she quickly put the goblet to her mouth and gulped down the wine. It burned all the way down, warm as no wine should be, but it was the most delicious thing that she had ever tasted.

  The people around her laughed in amusement as she gasped and spluttered and flushed in humiliation. She began to feel a little woozy from what she assumed was the alcohol, because she'd never had any before.

  “My name,” Chelsea told him shyly, remembering Nuallán’s reaction. “Is Chelsea.”

  There was the faintest tightening about his eyes, but then Finvara nodded. “A pretty name,” he remarked. “Most fetching.”

  An ugly little creature, hunched and gnarled, approached with a platter of fruits and nuts resting on one shoulder. He placed it near her on the table, sliding it onto the wood and then withdrew without meeting her gaze. Others of the same kind brought more platters to fill the table.

  Chelsea noticed that no-one reached for the fruit, or other food, and continued speaking as if disinterested. The scent from the food made her mouth water, it was that delicious. She hesitantly picked up some grapes and ate one, moaning at the delicious taste. The grapes were the best that she'd ever had!

  She noticed that Finvara was watching her with a disconcerting stare, gaze flickering from the fruit in her hands to her mouth. “Aren't you hungry, Prince Finvara?”

  “Famished,” he fairly growled back hungrily, eyes on her mouth as she licked up the juices left by the grapes. When she flushed and eyed him in surprise at his tone, he looked away. “But we will all be permitted to partake later this night.”