by Faith Ellis
Chapter 5 Andryad
Standing to get a better view, I see the shadow is far too large to be a person, and though there are trees, this isn't a forest harboring large animals, so it can’t be a bear. No, even if my brain can't acknowledge it, my heart knows that figure is the massive black horse. The one from my dreams. The scent finally resonates in my brain: pine and smoke. Where do I know the smell from? Piercing emerald eyes meet mine. I blink, and it's gone, disappearing like a tendril of smoke.
"Hey!" I call out, but nothing, no one answers back. Panic spills through my limbs, raising the hairs on my neck and shouting for me to run, flashing signs of
danger.
They planned to have me kill you. Isn't that what the prince told me?
Wrapping my arms around my body, I move quickly in the opposite direction where the shadow stood, tak- ing a detour for home.
I mumble to myself, "It's almost time to help set the table for dinner anyways. I better get home."
The truth is, my blood is rushing in my ears, and I can't shake the eerie feeling curling in my core or the nauseousness, sour in my stomach. Anticipation radi- ates in my body as though something big is about to happen. But what? After crossing through the woods, my feet hit the pavement, and my breathing levels out as I follow the sidewalk to the Kents' just a few blocks away. The sun sets quickly, and streetlights start to douse the asphalt in a hazy yellow glow. I find myself constantly glancing behind me, and a few times my ears hear another set of feet softly padding behind me, but when I look, there is no one there. My eyes dart back and forth between shadowy corners until finally, I speed up, racing the rest of the way, my feet pound- ing in a near-sprint against the pavement.
Dinner is simple and quiet. There isn't much in the fridge. Using some bread, Velveeta slices, and my lim- ited culinary skills, I manage to make Halsey and me grilled cheese sandwiches. I end up burning one side of my own slightly and cut up some apple slices. Hal eats noisily as she rambles on between mouthfuls.
"Where are Meredith and Kevin?"
"They went into the city for a special date together." "Oh" is Hal's only response. "So Tonya told her mom that I stole her Barbie. You know, her favorite one that
has her own car?"
I am only paying half attention. "Did you?"
The cheese glops out of Hal’s sandwich as she bites into it before answering, "No! I think she hid it."
"Why would she do that?" My eyes narrow straight at Hal; she has my regard now.
She shrugs. "Attention? She has a baby brother. She is always after attention since he came along."
I sigh. "Surely you can understand if that's the case, Hal. Tonya has these great parents, but now she has to adjust to sharing their love with this new addition. Do you understand why maybe she's feeling jealous?"
"Yeah, but I thought we were friends." She pouts. "You still are. Just give her some time to adjust and
let her know you're here for her, ‘kay?"
She nods vigorously as she dives in for an apple slice, crunching loudly.
After dinner, I clear the dishes, washing and drying them myself, and tell Hal she can watch an hour of television since the Kents won't be home until later. Being a parental figure is not something I want, but my heart hurts that Halsey doesn’t have one, really, and every young girl needs a guide through life. But my ability to be a positive influence for her concerns me. How can I teach her to grow into her own person if I don't even know who I am?
As I sit her down in front of a Spongebob rerun, my head starts deeply aching in the front, making me ill. Anytime I cook on that stove, I feel awful. I drag my- self up to my room, curling up on my bed with a book. The quiet in the room helps, and soon I turn off the lamp in an effort to soothe the pain I still feel. The dull sound of the television barely reaches my ears. I close my eyes and allow my body to relax and grow heavy.
The sun shines unusually bright, making the tall grass appear a deep, lush green and reflecting off the clear stream. My head no longer throbs, and I feel much better than I did earlier today, more energized and stronger. Many places in Faery almost make me feel good. Maybe it's the peacefulness, the magical feel that envelopes every inch of it. If I could stay here for- ever, I would.
A rock overlooks a sparkling stream in front of me. My jeans and tee from earlier are rumpled, since I fell asleep on my bed. I smooth them out a little and roll up my jeans at the ankles, slipping off my Bobs as I stroll through the grass to the rock. I dare not get too close to the banks of the stream. In previous waters, I saw some of the creatures that lurk beneath the de- ceivingly beautiful surface. Foul-tempered kelpies and spirited silkies, to name just a couple. A fishy scent rises from the water, filling my nose.
"I know what kind of creatures you house, you de- ceitful little river," I mutter to myself as I lie down on my belly on top of the rock. "I'll keep my distance, thank you very much."
The grass ruffles as a soft breeze sways over me, rustling the leaves on the trees in the distance and bending their branches in an elegant ballet. Hills clut- ter my vision, and thorns barricade the tree line—a pic- ture of beauty, yet threatening somehow, a warning.
My T-shirt is streaked with chalky dirt where I lay on the rock. The stream is no longer in my line of sight at this angle, but the murmur still fills my ears as it rip-
ples over stones, and every once in a while, there is a little splash, some creature bouncing about. Bristling, I feel a presence, a shift in the wind again. The kind of feeling that makes your hairs rise and your heartbeat quicken with anticipation. This feeling I know well; it is the same presence I felt the other night when the horse arrived. Without getting up or turning around, I loudly ask, "Are you the same from the dream last night?"
“You know I am," a deep, sultry voice responds from somewhere on the ground behind me. At the same time, a familiar woodsy scent wafts around, teasing my nose. "And every dream—as you call them—before that."
My elbows dig painfully into the rock as I push my- self off, running my hands vigorously over my shirt to work off the loose, gravelly dusting. When I turn and stand, there he is: Aiden. He's taller than I remember. His chest and shoulders are broad and layered in all- black leathers, with a sword tied at one hip. His dark hair is still tied back, and his eyes sparkle in the light reflecting from the stream, making them look similar to emeralds. My heart skips as I tilt my head up to meet his eyes. "What do you mean by ‘you call them’? What would you call them? What do you even know about them? You are a figment of my subconscious."
"Princess, everything I say makes perfect sense," he replies arrogantly, with a nonchalant wave of his hand, the corners of his mouth pulling into a grin. "And be- sides, I know everything." He leans down and toward
me, his body radiating heat that mine becomes far too aware of. The blood rushes in my veins, and my pulse races at an alarming speed, one which I am sure will cause me to faint.
My brow arches. "Princess?" I reposition myself to feel taller, more confident, and take a step back, though I don't actually feel confident. "You keep call- ing me princess as if it is a title. The redcap, he said something about a princess too. Who is this princess?" Aiden's eyes soften a little, and he regards me calmly before responding.
"You don't remember anything." It isn't a question. He tilts his head slightly, appearing more alluring as the angle sharpens his features in the sunlight.
"Remember what? I remember last night's dream." Pointing an accusing finger in his direction, I lift my chin. "You were going to kill me. I remember that much. Are you here to finish the job?" I crouch a little, ready to pounce. He has a weapon, and I don't. Whatever that fire is inside of me has a mind of its own, so my best option will likely be to bolt and hope I am far faster.
He sighs. "No, not at all. That is the last thing I would do." He raises his arms toward me as if he might touch me, pull me to him. Then he drops them, recon- sidering. "I am trying to keep you safe, actually. Two very different things
." I raise my eyebrows.
"Safe from what? Other than you, obviously."
"Whatever do you—"
I roll my eyes in annoyance and shift to shield them from the setting sun. "You told me last night that they planned for you kill me. How can someone meant to kill me keep me safe?"
Aiden moves one hand to rest on his sword at his hip. The other he uses to rub the back of his neck. My breath catches, and I take another step back. "No, princess, you do not—you don't understand, but that isn't your fault. I did this. I'm sorry." Aiden's eyes flicker with something like pain, and he moves to stand closer to me, both palms turned up in submission. "The longer you are consciously away from Faeryland, the less you will remember. I need to bring you back, but I'm not confident about the risk."
My brow furrows. " What are you talking about? Faery isn’t real, it’s a figment of my subconscious, my imagination." I step a little closer to Aiden. "Just to be clear, you're not trying to kill me?"
He shakes his head. His ponytail falls over one shoulder. "No, but I had to do something, or they would have."
"Who are they?"
“The Second Court, Queen Mable, any of her follow- ers, really."
My voice lowers as if speaking to Halsey, soft but stern, and I point a finger at him. "You need to tell me what's going on. You're not making any sense." My desire to understand drives a brazenness within me. "You know something about me, about this place. I've
dreamed of this place every night since I can remem- ber. Why? Start talking, princey, or I will walk away."
Aiden gazes over my head and takes a deep breath before looking at me again. His eyes are kind, but some- thing else hovers behind those gems. He says quietly, hurriedly, "Okay, An. Months ago, I had to place you under a spell. One that kept your memories of the past hidden, one that glamoured you into this." His hands gesture over my body. "A human."
"A spell?" I eye him suspiciously. "What is ‘glam- oured’?”
"Yes, a spell to protect you." He exhales. "Glamour can make something look like something it's not. For you, it makes you look human and hides your true self. From the time you were born, Princess Andryad, daughter of the Erlking, heir to the First Half Seasons Court, our lands knew you were special. Powerful. The future of Faeryland."
My mind races with the effort of understanding what Aiden is talking about. I fear my head will ache all over again.
He shifts his weight on his feet. "The queen of the Second Half Seasons Court, Mable, felt threatened by your powers and your beauty. She was nervous about your reign and what it would mean for both courts, for her reign. So she devised a plan. To outsiders, the plan was to form an alliance between the First and Second Courts. But her closest fae aristocrats knew the truth. Her true motive was to destroy you. Kill you. And to do so, she would need to get close to you. Through me."
He stops to catch a breath before continuing. "I was raised, from the moment of your birth, to one day marry you. And, ultimately, kill you. I wasn't aware of this until the end. And I…" Aiden falters and looks away, far over the stream.
I throw open my arms, exasperated with the sus- pense. "You what?"
Aiden clears his throat uncomfortably. He shrugs but goes on. "I saw you. Met you. Fell in love with you. We fell in love with each other." My cheeks grow warm. "I couldn't do it, what she asked of me. But I knew if I didn't, my mother would do worse. I had to hide you, protect you, no matter what. So I glamoured you and performed the only spell I could think of."
"Yes, the spell. What is the spell? You said there's a risk in bringing me back."
"Yes, the spell keeps you glamoured, erases your memories so you could blend in and wouldn't think to come back here. But now they know. They know what I did and that you're in the mortal realm, and they're looking for you. They'll know you as soon as they see your eyes—some might even smell it on you. I need to bring you back to Faeryland to keep you safe and teach you more about using your powers. So that together, we can fight and defeat Queen Mable."
I huff and hold up both hands. "Wait, let me get this right: my dreams are a reality?"
"Not exactly. Many of your dreams about Faery have been repressed memories of yours, but other creatures within Faery can interact with you."
"So why have you been in them?"
"I am able to transport back and forth into your memories." His eyes dart away. "Since other creatures could interact, I wanted to make sure I was with you to protect you. It was simply a precaution."
"Yeah, well, it feels more like an invasion. So why would I need to come back, anyway? Can't I stay and take a chance?"
"The spell is wearing off. Over the past few months, it's prevented faery Folk from being able to find you, and it's held the glamour to conceal your fae appear- ance. It was a-once-in-a-lifetime spell. The blood price is too high. I cannot use it again without forfeiting my life. If you already knew how to hone your powers, I would have no issue with sacrificing myself, but you need me to teach you. And if the fae find you now, especially in the mortal world, you will be vulnerable, and they will kill you."
"The risk—you mentioned something about a risk with coming back."
Casually, he rests a hand on his hip. "I'm uncertain of the side effects when I lift the spell. I don't know if your memories will come back immediately or, to be quite honest, if they'll come back at all."
Thoughts circle in my head, running together and causing me to feel lightheaded and overwhelmed. The sun is now uncomfortably bright. "That's great. These dreams are just—these—this isn't real." My head shakes vigorously to empty the doubt that bleeds in as
I turn to walk away, past him, but Aiden grabs both of my shoulders to forces me to face him.
His voice is deep and thick with emotion. "Andryad, this is not a joke. It's not a dream." His grip is tight but not enough to hurt. "This is real. I cannot lose you. I have watched you and protected you these past months, but lately, I don't know if I'm enough to keep you safe." He loosens his hold, and I watch him closely. "I need to teach you things in order for you to protect yourself. To claim your birthright and rule Faeryland." I stand quietly, looking at the ground for a long time.
"Uh-huh." I search his emerald eyes. "If it's real, as you say, then prove it." My arms fold over my chest, waiting.
Aiden regards me solemnly, then nods. "Okay. You weren't meant to be in the mortal world. Fae can travel through the veil from Faery to the human realm, but we cannot make a life there. We are a part of Faery. Liv- ing without it is like living without food or water—we would die. It will make you sick."
My eyes scan the space between us, thinking about the past few days. The pounding in my head that never seems to cease until I find myself here, dreaming. I re- call the ever-present fatigue I’ve experienced over the past few weeks, creeping up more and more.
"You've already experienced some of this, haven't you?" Jewel-toned eyes scan over me as if they were searching for some injury, proof.
"It's just a headache."
"Have you always had headaches?"
"Well, no, not exactly. They started a few days ago, but they don’t seem to go away until I'm asleep." My voice sounds small to my ears.
"Unless you're here in Faery, you mean?"
"That's more likely to be a coincidence." My back stiffens.
He tilts his head, thinking, still staring at me. "Very well. Lie to me."
"Excuse me?"
"Fae cannot lie. Albeit, we can manipulate, we can keep secrets, but we cannot tell a blatant lie. So lie to me."
"Um, sure. Let's see." My brow gathers in thought. What lie do you tell a stranger? "I don't have parents that love me." Everything freezes. My mouth drops open, and heat builds in me at the smirk of pure, arro- gant satisfaction painted on Aiden's face.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"No, that's not what I meant, I meant to say—"
Aiden holds up his hand to stop me. "I know exactly what you meant to say, but see, telling me you
do have parents that love you would be an outright lie. And you're fae, so naturally, you can’t say that to me."
Gears turn inside my brain. I swear smoke is exiting my ears at how hard I struggle to understand. Maybe, for one moment, I consider he is telling the truth. My life, what I do remember of it, has been a constant struggle of acceptance, being around people whom I couldn't reach and connect with. The recent headaches, the times where I hadn't wanted to let
Meredith in on my private life or share about what I do with my time but was unable to keep the truth from her when she asked. What other explanation could there be?
Aiden reaches toward me, lifting a hand near my neck. "May I?"
I swallow hard. My throat is dry, and my blood heats at his closeness, but I nod uncertainly and brace to run if he tries something stupid. Instead, his finger tugs at the neckline of my T-shirt, pulling it down just a smidge to reveal the tiny opal lodged in my skin. A smile plays on his lips. "When royal fae claim their partner, the females are endowed with a betrothal stone, a sign of commitment from their betrothed. Opals represent loyalty and faithfulness. And when touched by the betrothed, they shine bright."
Aiden brushes his finger gently against the stone. A small shock of electricity runs from the stone and feels as though it spirals straight to my heart. The stone is suddenly engulfed in a bright, brilliant golden glow that reflects in his eyes. My jaw hangs open in amaze- ment, both at the sight and the feelings but mostly at what he told me and how it stirs something deep inside of me, tells me somehow that what he said is true.