by Godiva Glenn
She didn’t deny his statement, only ran an idle hand along the sofa arm. Fae couples rarely conceived. They could be together for centuries and produce no children. Sexuality was open and casual relationships common. His mother had to have had the worst luck in the world.
There was no law that she had to marry, but it made sense that she thought it was for the best.
“Peter wasn’t always a… tyrant. He used to be just… I don’t know. Passionate? He thought he could settle down and be a dad. He wanted to try. I watched him try,” Vevina insisted. “But it wasn’t in his nature. He was selfish, and even the best intentions could become sour…”
“I don’t need to hear. It’s enough, just to know, finally,” he murmured. “If my mother had raised me alone, I’d have been better off. A bastard duke is still a duke, and to the fae, any child is a blessing.”
“Except that Bledwen has never been steady enough to rule. She is caring and sweet, but a focused woman, she is not,” Vevina said hesitantly. “She had hoped that Peter could provide balance.”
“And she was wrong.” Kerren loved his mother dearly, but a mistake was a mistake.
“This doesn’t have any bearing on your own relationships, Kerren. You aren’t your father.”
Unless Kerren had inherited his father’s selfish nature. Unless good intentions and failed results ran in his blood.
He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have tampered with fate, Vevina. Brook may be better here—I don’t know. I think she’d shine anywhere. But me? This world isn’t for me.”
“It is! You’re just too stubborn to see past what you fear could happen. You don’t want to put down your roots.”
“You don’t understand. My life here is empty.” He swirled the glass in his hand and took another sip. “I can’t serve the Barrows and watch my life pass by.”
“You are the noblest man to rule the Barrows in a long while, and I should know since I served your bastard of a father,” Vevina said firmly. “You think we don’t need you, but we do. I’m speaking for all of your people. We want you to stay. We need your spirit to protect us.”
“Protect you from what? The chill of winter?”
“You know that the province gains from the merits of the leadership, and just as equally, suffers from the flaws. Under you, we’ve seen growth and happiness. Safety.” She came close and placed a hand on his shoulder, though he glared at her. “And that was with you barely trying. Imagine how we would fare with you at your best. Brook is your future and ours. I wasn’t trying to tamper with fate. I thought I was doing fate’s bidding.”
“Well, you’re a fool,” he muttered.
“If the end result is you coming to your senses and staying here, it’s worth being a fool. If your life is empty, you fill it with something. Moving won’t help you if you make the same choices.”
“Yet you’ve set the course for Brook to do just that—move in the hopes of something better,” he scoffed. “You should leave before Brook returns. She’ll do better to adjust without having to see you.”
Vevina squeezed his shoulder and stepped away. She seemed to want to say more, but after a quiet moment she turned and left.
Kerren lifted the crystal glass and rested its cool surface against his forehead. He didn’t want to question fate or love or chemistry. He just wanted to see Brook happy, even if that meant she lived a long life in Prism without him.
* * * *
Phones didn’t work in Prism, or at least most didn’t. Technology, in general, tended to react to the magic atmosphere in strange ways. The exception was a certain line of computers made specifically for Prism, and even then, they had limited capabilities—but they could be used for short voice calls.
Luckily, Vevina had one in her office in the home. She was always on top of all things new and couldn’t live without her handheld organizer.
Kerren pressed the power button on the computer and momentarily regretted sending her away before getting to the bottom of her matchmaking scheme. He needed to speak to the woman who had placed Brook into his employ.
The computer loaded quickly and Kerren scanned the desktop for any clues. A notification for a new email from Gerri Wilder popped up in the corner and he clicked it, immediately recalling the familiar name.
The email was checking in to see how things were moving along since Brook wasn’t answering her phone. The message had a number at the bottom, which he clicked and waited on while the computer dialed out.
“Hello?” a mature woman’s voice answered.
“Hello. Is this Mrs. Wilder?” he asked.
“Please, call me Gerri. I assume if you have this number we’re working together? Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to today?”
“Kerren Aodhán.”
“Oh, the fae duke, yes. Tell me, how is everything with Brook?”
He slouched in his chair and stared at the computer screen. “Ah… she’s fine. But I’ve got some unfortunate news for you, about the entire situation.”
“Oh dear… go on.”
“I never created a dating profile with your agency. My assistant did.”
A heavy sigh carried through the air. “I rather suspected,” Gerri admitted. “It’s quite rare that someone submits a profile quite as deeply honest as yours.”
“Yes, well. That’s problem one. Problem two is that it doesn’t seem like Brook was looking for a match either.”
“Did she say that?”
“No, not exactly. But she came as a guide—”
“Yes, yes. Brook is stubborn, but unless your assistant’s details about you were misleading, she’s your match. I just assumed that you would tell her that you wanted more than a tour guide, and the rest would handle itself.”
Kerren cleared his throat, recalling how quickly he and Brook had gone from tour to bedroom. “Well, there was certainly chemistry… but if neither of us was looking, haven’t we done this wrong?”
Gerri’s laugh rang as clear as a bell. “Wonderful. You know, I expect this sort of nonsense from wolves and bears and such, but I thought a duke of the fae would see clearer.”
“Pardon?”
The rustling of paper being moved and crinkled came across the line, then Gerri asked, “Do you ever travel?”
“Yes. Quite often, actually.”
“Would you consider yourself to be charming and intellectual, yet capable of being at home at either a fancy dinner party or relaxing with a beer?” she continued as if reading from something.
Kerren tilted his head side to side in consideration. “Prism doesn’t have Earth-style beer, but I suppose yes.”
“And are you so desperately lonely that you’d leave your life behind, come to a city you’ve never heard of on a planet you’ve never been to, and hire a dating agency to find your true love?”
“But I didn’t—”
“Are we talking, or not, dear?” she asked seriously.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose, even though I did not hire you, that is disturbingly accurate.”
“If you didn’t want to hire me, you wouldn’t have contacted me to tell me about this so-called mix-up. Be honest. You wanted to make sure Brook was your match, not correct me for sending you someone you didn’t want,” she chided.
“Are all Americans so blunt?” he muttered not meaning for her to hear.
“Delightfully so,” she replied. “I can’t force you to do anything, clearly. But even though I detest being tricked, the match was still a match.”
“I see.”
“I don’t know what you two are up to, but please tell Brook she can call me anytime.”
“Of course. Thank you Mrs—I mean, thank you, Gerri.”
“Mmhmm. You be good.”
The line went quiet and the call clicked off. Gerri’s certainty shook him, except for one thing. Maybe desperation wasn’t the best foundation to form a relationship on.
Chapter Eleven
The sun was setting by the time Brook made
her way back to Kerren’s manor. It hadn’t been her intention to be away all day, but after leaving the Queen’s garden she’d gone for a walk to think about what little they’d discussed.
She searched through the quiet house looking for Kerren, eventually finding him in the backyard. Strange lights hovered in the air around him, and once she got closer she realized they were small fae.
Her hands covered her mouth to catch her gasp, in case they’d be scared away. Still, Kerren turned and noticed her.
“There you are.” He stood and walked to meet her. “I was worried until I was told you weren’t alone.”
“Right,” she said, still staring at the glowing fae. “One of the guards followed me around to keep me from getting too lost. He wouldn’t share his name. Awkward, really, but that doesn’t matter. Fairies?”
He glanced to where she stared. “Pixies. Precocious demifae, and easy to invite over. When they have sweets, they become quite celebratory.”
“They’re tiny… do they talk?”
He nodded and placed a hand on her back, guiding her forward. “They do, but perhaps not tonight. When I sprinkled the honey crystals, I wasn’t considering the frost globes on the other side of the garden.”
“What are those?”
“Fae fruit that tends to over-ripen and ferment on the vine.”
“They’re drunk?” she asked with a half-laugh.
“Drunk and hyper. Fun to watch right now while they’re dancing, but soon enough my yard is going to be hosting a demifae orgy.” He sighed and shook his head. “Sorry. It seemed like a promising idea this morning.”
Brook chuckled softly, watching the pixies dance as if the night breeze was a melody. “You brought them here to see me?”
“I thought you would enjoy their company. And I’m certain if they weren’t in their current state they’d want to meet you.”
“I appreciate it.”
They stood and observed the tiny fae in quiet for a few moments, but as Kerren had predicted, dancing soon turned to groping.
“Ready for dinner?” Kerren asked.
The day had felt long already, and though normally stress made her eat, she’d felt almost too anxious to be hungry. Almost.
“I’m curious to see what sort of dinner you have here.” As the words left her mouth, her stomach growled. “Okay, I guess I’m hungrier than I thought. It seems like I haven’t eaten enough since I got here.”
“Don’t worry. It’s a temporary side-effect of traveling through the portal. Something about the time change, I think.” The kitchen lit as he stepped in and opened the cupboard.
Though most of Prism seemed less than modern, it still surprised Brook to see how magic could replace technology in a nearly seamless manner. Until now, she hadn’t realized that there was no light switch in this room—or any of the rooms.
Instead, candles lined the walls and sat on tables, ready to flicker on at the appearance of people. They gave more light than traditional candles and burned a soft white rather than dim yellow.
Much like the self-heating and pampering tub, she wondered if this magic was standard or a luxury.
“Does everyone live like this?” she asked.
“How do you mean?” He didn’t look up from his task of slicing a large loaf of bread and arranging the pieces on a plate.
“The candles and the overall… ease of magic.” She sat on a stool and watched him.
He opened a small jar containing what appeared to be an orange spread and placed it on the plate before pushing it towards her. “Something to snack on while I cook,” he explained, then leaned on the counter with furrowed brows. “Yes and no. There is a cost for magic. Not financial but… something intangible. Being fae, it simply happens and makes sense to me. It’s different for all the different fae. Brownies, for example, always have spotless homes that feel comfortable.”
“That sounds nice,” Brook said and scooped a piece of bread through the spread.
“It truly is. You could sit in a Brownie’s living room and it will simply feel like home and have all the comforts of a home. They don’t need to buy food. It’s always around. They don’t need blankets because the temperature is always right, but any blankets they offer you will be the softest you’ve ever held.”
“Wow.” She tried to imagine such a thing. “I’d like to experience that someday.”
“I’m sure you will. The Barrows has a large Brownie population, and they love guests. Just be sure to bring them gifts. Company should always bring gifts to Brownies unless the visit wasn’t intended. Which happens—they are likely to welcome you in straight off the streets,” he said with a laugh.
He’d pulled some vegetables from below the counter and now chopped them. The fae versions of onions, carrots, and cabbage, from what she could guess. She took a bite of her bread and was pleasantly surprised. The dip tasted sweet yet cheesy.
“Oh my goodness,” she marveled.
“I thought you’d like that. This spread’s recipe has been in my family since the beginning of time—or so they say.”
“You made it?”
“I did. I enjoy cooking.” He minced a small brown root and set the knife down. “It’s even more enjoyable when I’m with someone who appreciates it.”
“I certainly appreciate food, and you make a sexy chef,” she agreed. “But what about humans with no magic?”
Tearing the leaves of a strange teal plant, he shrugged. “I’m actually not sure. But as nobility, you’ll have servants, and their magic will infuse to wherever you live. Like an impression.”
“I don’t want servants,” she said with a slight frown. “I can take care of myself.”
“Some fae live to serve, Brook. It’s not a position without perks and respect.” He tossed everything into a pot and sprinkled various seasonings into it. “But if you’d like, simply promote someone to be your assistant, as I did. Vevina was bound to my family through a blood-debt incurred long before I was born, but I hated the idea of a life-long servant.”
“Blood-debt?” Brook asked. “So she’s your servant forever?”
“Assistant. And yes, for her life. Before you ask, I can’t revoke it—that would be disrespectful to her entire lineage.”
“The fae are strange.”
He grinned. “To you. But Vevina’s magic is what soothed you in the tub, for example. Though I suspect she left a quite intentional imprint there. She lives for bubble baths.”
A flicker of sadness crossed his expression, and unless she was mistaken, the lights momentarily dimmed. She didn’t know how long Vevina had served him, but she suspected most of his life. It was hard to imagine how he felt, but she knew there was little she could do to help. What was between them could only be solved by them.
“What sort of fae is Vevina?”
“She’s part naiad, part other things… but her story isn’t mine to tell.”
Brook leaned forward, head tilting in curiosity. “You’ve told me about others, though.”
“I have. Vevina though… aside from the fact that she tells it better, if I tell you what she is you’ll have endless questions.”
“Ah.”
“What did the Queen say?” he asked.
“Not much, actually. But what she did say made me realize that my protests about moving to Prism are… silly.”
“I wouldn’t call wanting to live your own life silly,” he disagreed.
He turned and filled the pot with water, then set it over the fire.
“I left my phone in your hotel room,” she said, stirring the bread through the creamy spread. “And I haven’t missed it. I woke up this morning and something was missing… the dread of having to sit at a desk for ten hours while being unappreciated and underpaid. I have wanted to make a million changes to my life, and I have the opportunity now. I’m over how I got here, and I’m eager to take advantage of it.”
He smiled and stirred the pot with a long-handled wooden spoon. “You make Prism seem… fresh.
I suppose growing up here, it doesn’t have the same sparkle to me.”
“The grass is always greener on the other side,” Brook commented.
“What’s that?”
“A saying. The grass is always greener… It’s easy to look at someone else’s life or something you don’t have, and it will seem better than your life or what you have.”
He appeared thoughtful and set the spoon down on the counter before moving to the island where she sat. He tore off a small piece of bread and ate it, watching her intently.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, feeling self-conscious.
“I’m relieved that you will be fine here. I couldn’t have left knowing you were going to be miserable for eternity.”
Her heart tumbled. For a while, she’d forgotten their impending separation. “You’re eager to explore Earth some more? You’ll need a new guide.”
He nodded. His eyes had lost their sparkle, and he seemed lost in thought.
“I wish you’d stay,” she said softly.
“I’m not sure if it would be wise for me to. It could be like you say, that I’m imagining that things would be better somewhere else simply because I’m not there. Or it could be like your situation, where I need to go where I have the opportunity to create a better life.”
She knew what he meant, though the thought of being apart filled her with a hollow sensation. Her feelings for Kerren were clear in her heart, and she suspected he knew and felt the same way.
But is that enough for him to change his dreams? If I tell him what I want and ask him to stay, is it smart or is it selfish?
“Dinner’s ready,” he announced.
* * * *
Brook rolled over and stared at the gauzy curtains hiding the moon and stars. The bed in Kerren’s guest room was easily as large and comfortable as his own bed, and he’d revealed that it was once his room growing up. Still, it felt lonely here. The house was massive but empty.
She couldn’t imagine how he stood it, and it gave her insight as to why he’d leave. What was the point of the magic lights and pixies and fancy furniture without people? Surely Kerren had friends? More family?