Wings of Shadow (The Underground Trilogy)
Page 18
The knock sounded again, louder this time. Meghan sighed, tightened her last lid, and ran to answer the door. Orin stood outside.
“Would it be possible to meet with Kiernan?”
She gestured for him to come inside. Orin greeted Kiernan, and when he heard no response, he approached the hearth.
“I apologize for disturbing your grieving, but I have a most urgent matter to discuss with you.” Orin fidgeted while waiting for an answer.
Kiernan continued to stare into the flames.
“You see,” the elder Fae continued, “Alannah appointed you as her second-in-line successor. If both she and Avery were indisposed, she requested that you take over leadership of Solas.”
Kiernan looked up. “What kind of ruse is this? My mother despised me at first sight, and you are expecting me to believe that she listed me as her successor?”
“She was touched by your impassioned speech. My queen never ruled with her heart, but with her head. She recognized the strong leadership qualities that you displayed during the Council meeting.” Orin met Kiernan’s eyes.
“But when did she have time to give these instructions?” Meghan asked.
“Immediately before we met with Killian. Alannah was a wise woman and realized that not following his directives might have dire consequences.”
Kiernan was silent, his eyes darting between Orin and Meghan. “She really chose me? She believed I would be the best for the job, even though I have not lived in the village?”
Orin took his hand. “She must have seen you were the best chance this village has. Will you accept the position?”
Another long pause ensued. Kiernan’s expression softened. “How can I turn down the one gift Mother has given me?”
Orin clapped his hands together. “We will inform the villagers of this decision following Alannah’s funeral this evening.”
*
The Fae gathered at the site of the bonfire ceremony. Everyone was dressed in white and held bright flowers and greens. The flora and their wings provided splashes of color against the somber gathering.
The Fae faced the west, watching the sun sink lower in the sky. The pinks and oranges of the sunset reflected off the sea of white, casting color into the gathering.
A green-winged Fae placed a wooden flute to his lips and breathed out a haunting melody. In the distance, six Fae approached, carrying a wooden stretcher, decorated with flowers and bunches of fragrant herbs. As they grew closer, she could see Alannah’s body, wrapped in a white linen shroud.
Wearing white robes, Kiernan and Orin led the other four Council members to the funeral pyre. Kiernan’s expression was hard to read. He stared ahead stoically, jaw clenched and muscles taut.
The flutist continued his sad song. Finally, the wooden stretcher was placed carefully atop the funeral pyre. Kiernan, Orin, and the other pallbearers formed a single line. One by one, the Fae approached the pyre and whispered to the queen, carefully arranging their gifts to her. Each woman carried flowers, and each man held herbs and other fragrant greens. Tears flowed as they stepped away from their queen.
Meghan’s turn had come. She approached, kneeled, and whispered apologies for bringing so much trouble to the peaceful village. She knew the blame did not rest on her, but she could not forget that the Council’s decision to allow her sanctuary led to the tragedy. Meghan had carefully contemplated which flowers to bring, and finally had decided to cut hydrangea blossoms from the garden, both pink and blue. She placed the blossoms atop the pile of others—she could not even see Alannah’s shroud anymore—and stepped back.
Kiernan was the last to approach the pyre. The rich, lyrical notes of the flute continued in the dusk. He slowly walked to the queen, each step appearing forced. Once there, he gazed at the flower-covered pyre. Minutes passed, and he suddenly collapsed in front of his mother’s body and sobbed. The pain-ridden cries melded with the call of the flute, merging into a single melody. Meghan sensed the earth itself was crying at its loss.
Selena approached the pyre and took Kiernan by the hand. “My beloved Fae,” she called. “We have gathered to bid Queen Alannah, our leader, our sister, goodbye. As the light of the day dies, the light of our queen will also vanish. But we shall offer her safe passage to Anya’s lands, one last journey through the Light.”
“May her Light greet us in the dark of night,” the Fae collectively called.
Selena held a long bundle of sage and carefully lit it. She swirled the herb around herself and Kiernan, and toward the Fae. The pungent odor filled the air. Selena handed the sage to Kiernan. He looked at her, seemingly unsure, and she nodded.
Kiernan laid the sage upon the pyre, and the flames spread, slowly at first, and then with increasing speed. The Fae watched as their queen became one with the Light.
*
When the embers of the fire had burned low, Orin shared the Queen’s instructions of Kiernan’s succession, and a loud uproar broke out.
“But he is a Dark!”
“How do we know this was not planned by Killian?”
“Killian broke the treaty already. Maybe he is planning a takeover of the village!”
With each protest and concern, Kiernan looked more and more defeated. The scowl returned to his face, and he opened his mouth to speak.
Orin stopped him. “Alannah was a wise woman. Look at how many years she served as our queen. We must trust that her decision was made with the same sage wisdom that we had grown to expect from her.”
“But a Dark—”
“Plus, we should acknowledge the bloodlines. With Alannah gone, and Avery not available, the position naturally falls to Kiernan. We must trust this is all happening for a reason.”
Selena rose. “Anya has always guided us. I imagine that if Kiernan is meant to rule, she will send us a sign. Until then, ‘tis important that we trust Alannah’s wisdom.”
*
It was Meghan’s final day in the village. She would leave that evening on the train to London, spend the night in a cheap Heathrow room, and fly home in the morning. The thought of leaving made her wince. She was going to miss the village, Selena, Wish, Kiernan, and Avery very much. Now that she knew magic existed in the world, she would have difficulty returning to an ordinary life.
She and Kiernan roamed the countryside surrounding the village and reached a winding, bubbling creek. A gentle drizzle fell, creating a sea of ripples along the water’s surface. Kiernan held her hand as they walked, and she clung to his, not wanting to let go. The warmth of him felt so good, she didn’t even notice the misty rain. They had come here, outside of the village, to say their goodbyes.
Leaving the village boundaries had been deemed safe. While she no longer was filled with anxiety about Lord Killian, she didn’t feel any relief. At what cost had her peace come?
Two days had passed since Orin informed Kiernan that he would be appointed successor. She thought about the changes she had seen. He had been busy meeting with Council members, getting to know the people of the village, and having long discussions with Selena. His anger seemed to have diffused.
She snuggled against him. “I’m glad you haven’t been so angry on my last few days here. I’ve missed you this week.”
“It isn’t that I’m not angry. I just remembered with whom I am really angry. My fight is with my father, not the villagers.” He pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her waist.
“I’m tired of talking about him. We only have a few hours.” She held him tightly.
“You could stay.”
She was tempted—so tempted—but she needed to be strong. “It wouldn’t work. I need to go to school. I promised myself that I would go to college. The semester starts next month. I have to go home.” She wasn’t sure if she was reminding Kiernan or herself.
“You could visit.” He gave her a how-can-you-resist-me look.
Meghan didn’t want to make promises. “I’ll try, but school’s expensive.”
She closed her eyes and nes
tled her head against him. He held her tighter.
“I will miss you…” she began, as he said, “I am going to miss you.”
She turned up her face, felt the raindrops falling on her cheeks and eyelids, and then, the soft pressure of his lips on hers.
A ray of sun beamed through the clouds, shining down on them. They both looked to the sky. Meghan spotted it first. A full rainbow appeared, its hues painting the sky with color.
As Kiernan took a few steps in the sunshine, she drew in her breath sharply.
“Kiernan, is this the first time that you have been in the sun since the battle?”
His face wrinkled. “Well, I was outside yesterday, but the rains have arrived. It poured most of the day. Why?”
“Turn around… look!” she urged. All she could think of was the Green Man’s message: There can be no shadows without Light.
As Kiernan looked back, he gasped. In the shadows cast by the sunlight, two large wings protruded from his body. She ran her hands along his back and sides, and felt nothing. But in the shadow of his body, wings—large and beautiful—could clearly be seen. Wings of Shadow.
A Fairy’s Journal
I wish I was
I wish I might
To be a fairy
Might at night
I wish I was
I wish I could
To be a fairy
Bright at Spring
Right now I’m not
I wish I could
But soon I’ll be
I’ll be a very
Pretty fairy.
Cheyenne, age 5
This book is dedicated to all who keep alive the spirit of the Fae.
It is never too late to wish for magic.
Acknowledgements
There are so many people who contributed to the creation of this novel. I could have never completed this endeavor without their support, feedback, and creativity.
Enormous hugs and thanks to…
My sister and mother, for the gift of my first Kindle. Without it, Kiernan and Meghan would still be waltzing around my imagination.
My daughter, who inspired me to embark on this novel-writing adventure.
My critique partner, Michelle, whose feedback, ideas, and suggestions were invaluable in shaping my story.
Nita and Logan, beta-reading superstars!
Josh, for his imaginative genius with the naming of the novel.
The Red Adept editing team, who polished and smoothed until my novel glistened.
Renu Sharma, for the amazing cover. I am convinced she infuses a pinch of magic into every cover she creates!
My niece, Cheyenne, for the joy of watching my love of faeries spread to new generations.
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About the Author
When Anna Kyss is not writing new adventures, she can often be found exploring magical places. If she wanders into the right destination, stories are whispered by the wind or mumbled through the cracks of ancient buildings.
Visit Anna’s blog at:
http://www.annakyss.com
Email her at:
annakyss@gmail.com