The music continued to play, turning to a melancholy song that spoke of love lost without the need for words. Tears sprung to her lashes, as she thought of Edric, lost and alone somewhere in the Fair Folk's domain. Where are you? She wondered. She continued along, searching for the source of the song, which reeled her in. The grass beneath her feet was thick and soft. She took off her shoes in order to wiggle her toes in it. She reached for one of the flowers to caress the velvety pillows but she did not notice the equally large thorns behind them.
She pricked her thumb upon one, and a single crimson drop of blood bloomed upon it.
She hissed and sucked on her thumb. Suddenly the flute music ceased. She'd accidentally revealed herself to the player.
From around a bush of flowers, the fae man appeared, once more in the visage of a handsome man. I should have known he was the one luring me here. What a fool I was to not see it for the trick it was.
"What are you doing in my throne room?" he asked.
Brenna blinked surprised. "You're the king?" she gasped and quickly covered her mouth. She had not offended just any of the Fair Folk, but the King of the Thorns.
"Was it not obvious when you first met me?" he asked, a single brow raised.
Brenna looked at her feet, as she bowed into a deep curtsy. "I apologize your majesty, I did not know."
The Thorn King did not reply, and she dared to look up at him. Only to find he was staring at her with the most peculiar expression on his face. She suddenly felt very exposed, and wrapped her arms around her. If he was the King of the Thorn Dwellers then she was in much more danger than she thought. I called him a liar. A warm blush flooded her features.
"Now you fear me?" he asked.
She couldn't look him in the eyes. "I did not know it was you, I apologize for my impertinence."
"There is no need, you are my guest."
"I should leave you." She turned to leave, intent on continuing her search for Edric.
"What led you to this place?"
She paused, her back to him, perhaps if she looked into his eyes she'd fall under his spell. But despite her fear of him, she answered him honestly, "I heard your music. It was beautiful."
He held up the flute looking at it as if he had just remembered it was there.
"Do you like music?"
She half turned toward him, it felt rude to keep her back to him, and nodded slowly. There was no harm in admitting so. But her lips spoke freer than they should have. "I've never heard a song quite like that. What is it called?"
He laughed softly. "It has no name, I was just playing what I felt."
There was a deep sadness in his eyes, and she found herself drawn to it. She took a step closer. "How can you be sad?"
He turned toward a pair of thrones, they were formed out of the same thorny bush as the rest of the room. Only one of them was in bloom. The other remained empty, the flowers withered and gone.
He strolled over toward them and rested his hand on the one which lacked any bloom. "I was thinking of the past," he said staring at the empty chair.
"You lost someone?" She took a guess, though it might have been rude to do so.
"My wife, the Queen of Thorns."
Brenna's eyes flickered toward the empty throne.
"I am sorry." She should not have asked. "I apologize, I shouldn't pry."
His green eyes were focused on her searching her face. "I hope you're coming here means you've changed your mind about dinner."
Brenna couldn't seem to take her eyes off of his face, without meaning to she had moved closer to him and the throne. She shouldn't be wasting time here, she should be looking for Edric.
"I should go," even looking away didn't break his spell on her. His melancholy expression was burned into her, and she wanted so badly to take away his sadness. As she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist halting her in place.
"Please, don't."
Every inch of her body felt as if it was alive, the hairs on the back of her neck filled with electricity. Just his touch seemed to set her ablaze.
She turned toward him and once again he was watching her.
"Join me, it would be an honor to have one of the children of Thornwood at my table."
She gulped but she couldn't seem to tell him no.
She nodded.
"Lovely."
It should have meant he was pleased, but the way his hungry eyes stared into hers, she wondered if he meant her.
***
The halls were a tangled mess of twists and turns. The only light came from the occasional globe which cast faint yellow light along the walls and created long shadows that appeared to watch him as he passed by. Some turns led to a dead end, others to bottomless drops or stairs that stopped at a ceiling with no trap door to be seen. No matter which way he turned, he was redirected downward, deeper into the caverns where there were fewer and fewer globes to light his way and he was forced to find his way by running his hands along the jagged rock walls.
A song floated up from the depths of the tunnel. His instinct was to ignore it but he was lost, even if he tried to turn around, he was not sure he could find his way back out. The sound led him down a twisting corridor that stopped along an adjoining cavern surrounded by high whiles and craggy rocks. Moonlight filter through a hole in the ceiling. If the walls had not been covered in sharp rocks, likely to tear apart his flesh if he dared tried grab hold of them, it could have been an escape route. The full moon shone through the ceiling and illuminated a pool in the center of the cavern. The water was perfectly still and incredibly dark, so dark all light seemed to be absorbed and all that remained was the outline of the moon.
At the edge of the pool, a woman ran her fingers through her long silver hair as she sang a song, the words in a language he did not recognize. The hem of her dress fell into the pool absorbing the color of the water and bleeding up to a pale gray. When he took a step closer, he knocked a rock lose. It tumbled down a set of stone steps and broke the water's surface. For a moment, he saw Brenna's face flash across the water's surface, but as quick as he saw it, it faded away.
The woman's song faded to one lingering note that hung on the ear. Eyes dark as the pool without bottom set in a deceptively youthful face. Around her neck river rocks had been strung together. And upon her brow a white stone glimmered in the light of the moon.
"Have you come with questions, dreamer?" she asked.
"What is this place?" he did not remove his foot from the threshold, there was a current on the air, a tension that pricked at his skin and told him he should turn around and run before it was too late.
"This is an old place of secrets. Care to look?" she gestured to the pool.
"I think I should be going." He had been foolish to come even this close. Perhaps his luck would be better, if he went up to the original chamber, if he could find it.
Before he had taken more than a step she said, "You are trying to find something you have lost."
He turned back around. "How do you know that?"
"The dreamer's pool told me," she said nodding toward the smooth surface of the pool. There was not even a ripple to indicate it had been disturbed just moments before. He crept closer, even though it felt mad to do so. When he was at the surface of the pool he stared down into the water, he saw nothing but his own reflection. The woman in gray rested a hand on his shoulder.
"You need to get closer, to see." She guided him to his knees. It felt like madness, but he did it anyway.
Squinting at the water, he saw nothing but darkness. When nothing happened, he looked up to the woman but she was no longer next to him, a flash of silver caught his eye. Beneath the surface, dark eyes stared up at him. When he opened his mouth to shout, bubbles came out instead. He was no longer on the edge of the pool but in the dark water, enveloped by darkness. He sank down and down, deeper and deeper. His breath ached in his lung desperate for release.
He could not hold his breath any longer and he let it go, prepared t
o let the darkness take him. But as air rushed out, no water took its place. He was in a one-room cottage. Herbs dried on the rafters and a fire burned on one side, a pot over its flames boiled over.
A woman with wide hips and a threadbare gown stirred at the contents of the pot. Her hair, tied back in a single braid down her back, was liberally streaked with gray. She turned around, and her wrinkled and weather-worn face seemed familiar to him. Though he could not say where he knew her from.
"Edric," she hollered.
"Do I know you?" he asked.
But she ignored him and shouted his name again, just then a man stumbled into the room, his clothes were shabby and stained. His beard was unkempt as was his greasy hair. He carried a bottle in his calloused hand which he set down hard on the room's only table. That cannot be me. He peered into the man's face, and tried to explain away the shape of the eyes, and the color that was so similar to his own, but so much more defeated. He saw a lifetime of hardship reflected in that gaze. What is this, some fae trick?
"I'm here, woman. What do you want from me?"
"Dinner is ready," she said gruffly and ladled gray gruel into a bowl for him.
"What is this slop?"
"The same slop we had yesterday and the day before."
"Well can't you make something better, Brenna?"
Horror gripped him hard. This had to be a nightmare. This could not be a glimpse of the future. These two miserable souls, haggard and old, could not be Brenna and him. Where were their half a dozen children, their cozy farm, and all the other things they dreamed of?
"Maybe if you put down the bottle and got work, we would be able to afford meat, every now and again."
He scoffed. "You're a nag. Where would you be without me."
She shook her head and turned away. He could tell this was an old argument. When he looked at this woman, he saw a shadow of Brenna. Life had not treated her kindly, her soft hands were hard, cracked and calloused, her face was red and chapped, the skin around her jowls hung low. When they had spoken of their future together, they talked about the plans they had, the love their house would be filled with. Was this the real future?
"I never wanted this for you," he whispered to her. And she looked up at him with tears in her discouraged eyes.
"You should have left me be. My father knew better, you were beneath me. We had no means to take care of ourselves from the beginning, and I was too naive to see it. If you had given me up, I wouldn't have lost the baby. And as I got uglier you got colder. You never loved me, you only wanted what was between my legs. I would have been happier without you."
He stumbled backward too ashamed to face the horrifying truth. Brenna was used to the finer things, her perfect pale hands were not made for hard work. Would a life as he had lived turn her twisted and hideous? Would his desire for her run cold as a result?
He ran from her, out the little cottage and into the dark. When he stepped out, he returned to the shore of the dreaming pool, where the woman in gray was sitting, her petite hands folded in her lap as she regarded him.
"You dreamed?"
"I did." He rubbed his face trying to wash away the image of Brenna's dejected face. "Is this true."
She gave him a noncommittal shrug. His hands shook. That was the end of their plot to run away, a lifetime of misery? What have I done?
***
Brenna was escorted back to her room, where a bevy of uncanny creatures awaited to dress her. They were of varying sizes, and wore an odd assortment of clothes from dresses woven from spider's silk to pants and shirts patched together with leaves.
"Your skin is so pale and beautiful," a fae woman with hair the color of poppies cooed as she caressed Brenna's arm holding it up to examine it in the light.
"And your hair is soft," said a tiny creature who wore an acorn for a hat and sat upon Brenna's shoulder braiding the strands together.
"Thank you," she stammered, though she was accustomed to being dressed, it felt strange to have so many unfamiliar hands upon her at once.
A pair of fae women held up a dress for her. The gown was made of a thin fabric, that was pale as moonlight. It glimmered softly under the multi-colored lights that hung from the ceiling of her chamber. Brenna reached out to touch the fabric, it fell over her hand like water and felt as light as air.
"It's stunning," Brenna said in a hushed voice.
The fae woman with lilac eyes said, "The King had it made for the Queen of thorns before—"
"Hush!" said the second who resembled a bird, complete with a pointy beak for a mouth. They both looked at Brenna and then away, as if they'd said something they weren't supposed to.
"What happened to her?" she asked, she could not help her curiosity. Despite what seemed to be an obvious ploy to get her to ask questions.
"She died," said the tiny sprite on her shoulder. "She took ill like many of our kind, the king lost his wife and children all together."
The fae creatures looked down away from Brenna. A heavy silence fell over the room. Brenna wrapped arms around her. Not certain what to say, maybe they had all lost loved ones to this illness.
"I'm so sorry to hear that."
"Don't mind that," said the fae woman with poppy-colored hair. "It's in the past now. The King will find a new Queen and we will all be happy again."
She assisted Brenna out of her plain wool dress, while Brenna thought about the sad look she had seen in the King's eyes. He must have loved his wife dearly to continue to mourn her.
They slid the gown over her head. It glided over her skin, and clung to her curves in flattering ways. When she shimmied slightly, it flowed around her fluttering in the light breeze. There was a tingle of magic in the fabric, I shouldn't be wearing this. What am I thinking? She'd been so distracted by their story, she hadn't even realized.
She was about to tell the fae folk as much but before she could voice a protest, they were hurrying her out the door.
"The king is waiting," they said.
"You don't want to keep him waiting."
The creatures shared conspiratorial smiles as she was led down the hall and into a large chamber with a ceiling so high up she could not see where it was. Darkness loomed above, while globes of glowing light floated on the air bobbing up and down casting multi-colored light onto the ground.
To one end of the room, musicians played music like she had never heard before. The very air vibrated with magic and Brenna found herself whipping her head around to take it all in, giddy at the very sight. It was as if her grandmother's stories had come to life before her eyes. This was the Thorn King's court.
At the center of the room was a long table, or rather several tables made up of flat boulders, logs with sheered tops, and the stump of a very large tree. An assortment of dishes had been laid out on platters made from shells, bowls of woven grass and goblets made of horns. The guests that sat around the table were just as strange as the table settings. She spotted a man with antlers on his head and the bottom half of his body that of a deer. Across from him a woman glistened in shimmering gold fabric, skin so dark it looked like ebony night and eyes that twinkled like the stars in the sky. Scattered among them were creatures which resembled the king, knotted hands, wooden skin and hair like vines.
When Brenna entered the room, the chatter stopped and the music faded leaving behind a deafening silence as all eyes were trained on her.
The Thorn King, at the head of the table, stood. His green eyes focused on her alone. He strode toward her, a smile spreading across his face.
"Brenna," he said huskily, "that dress, it looks more beautiful on you than I could have imagined."
She could not help the blush that spread across her face. As she looked away, she replied, "Thank you, your majesty."
"Please join me," he touched her gently upon the elbow with one hand gesturing to the chair beside his with the other. Once again, she felt that electric feeling spread through her entire body. What was it about him that made her feel so a
live?
She kept her gaze at the floor, to hide her blush as she took a seat. Her chair was made of tangled vines the arms and legs made of branches. As she sat down, she felt the gazes of the ethereal creatures upon her. She should have feared their feral gazes, the undercurrent of tension made her skin prickle but to be truthful, she liked the looks, their admiration. At Thornwood Abbey, she loved to sing and to entertain others.
And what was she to them but entertainment? Her arrival was a distraction from their usual lives. Though she imagined their lives were much more exciting than her own. She felt no malice from these creatures, only curiosity, which made her heart beat faster as she took her seat at the king's side. This is more adventure than I could have ever hoped for.
He leaned over to fill her glass, it was a kind gesture, surely he had servants who could do so.
"You look beautiful," he said.
"You've said that already," she teased as she looked up to make his gaze, she saw a hunger reflected in them. He wanted her.
"It needed to be said again."
The thought of such a powerful creature desiring her, gave her a thrill. She laughed throwing her head back as she tossed her hair over her shoulders, "You wield flattery like a weapon." She leaned closer to him.
He leaned in toward her, "Only because it is effective."
As he leaned toward her, she saw a flash of silver around his throat. She reached for it without thinking, the locket lay in the palm of her hand, hanging around the throat of the Thorn King. It could not be a coincidence, this was the locket she'd given Edric.
"Where did you get this?"
The Thorn King pulled away slightly and the locket fell from Brenna's hand.
"It was the price he paid for his freedom." He fixed her with his gaze, daring her to refute it.
This was a trick, it had to be, Edric said he'd never let it go.
"You're lying."
The mood changed, as there was a subtle shift in the king's gaze. "Why would I lie to you, Brenna?" the way he said her name, it was almost like a caress.
Fairy Ring Page 3