Daughter of Light and Shadows

by Anna McKerrow

  Faye made it to the bathroom in time, and knelt by the toilet, retching until there was nothing left to come up. She slumped against the wall, the luxurious rugs under her legs, and tried to steady her breathing. Slowly, she got up, went to the sink and poured some water from a crystal jug into her hand and gulped repeatedly until she felt a little clearer.

  She was a mess. Her face was pale, smudged with food and stained with wine. She was bruised from dancing in the faerie reel, which went on and on and on, never stopping – she and Finn had dipped in and out of the dancing, but many of the dancers never stopped, and she wondered at how they managed it.

  Suddenly, Faye missed home. How long had she really been gone, in the time of the human world? Weeks? Months? It was hard to know, but she hadn’t cared, until now. What would Annie think? What about the shop? And Rav. Rav. She covered her face with her hands as she felt her humanity, her body, fight back against the drunkenness Murias had seduced her with. She was sick again.

  It was a purge of everything she had swallowed without question; of all the desire she had spent here. A sudden, vivid memory of making love to Finn in his bed while a host of faeries watched, laughed and pleasured themselves, came back to her, and she stared at her reflection in the mirror in shock. What had she done? Finn hadn’t made her do it, she was fairly sure of that. She had done as she desired; deep down, she knew that exhibitionist desire. Finn had warned her that the realm of faerie was where humans came to explore their shadowy urges. And yet she had not expected it of herself.

  Angrily, she grasped the gold and jewels that thrilled against her skin, and ripped them away, scattering the opals over the bathroom floor. She stood, one hand on the wall for support, as she was weak, trying not to regret doing it. It was beautiful, and she had loved being beautiful wearing it. She tore off the wrist cuffs which suddenly felt restrictive, like the collar she remembered one of the young men wearing; the consort of the frog queen. Had he really come willingly? Had she, lulled with whatever it was in the air here – the smell of roses, the taint of magic – that made her head swim and her desire take over?

  She threw the cuffs at the wall and started to cry. She felt the shame for what she was cover her like mud. For what she had done. This wasn’t who she was. Faye Morgan, daughter of Modron Morgan, granddaughter to generations of strong, practical, magical Morgan women. Had they come to Murias like this? Had they lost themselves in lust and excess? And yet, even though she was miserable, she also started to feel more awake than she had since she had first entered Murias.. Anger gave her clarity; perhaps anger was a tool that could be used against faerie enchantment.

  Faye remembered Annie talking about how she made herself cry onstage: all ye got to do is think aboot somethin’ really sad before ye go on, Like, really get yourself goin’. She could do the same thing. In memory, Faye reached back to the few times she had been really furious and tried to place herself back in the moment.

  ‘What are you doing, sidhe-leth?’

  Finn Beatha stood in the doorway to the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. He was naked, his hair tousled, but otherwise as golden and beautiful as he had ever been; not dirty and bruised as she was. ‘Come back to bed.’

  ‘No. I’m leaving. Going home.’ She stood defiantly, trying to look stronger than she felt. ‘I’ve had enough. It… the party… it went too far. I wasn’t myself.’

  ‘On the contrary, Faye. You were more yourself than you have ever been. You have started to reclaim your fae nature,’ he smiled lazily, watching her. ‘And, may I say, it suits you. You were entrancing. Every fae wanted you for their own consort.’

  She pushed past him, back into the bedroom.

  ‘How dare you treat me like some kind of… sex slave! You can’t buy me off with jewels. I’m not your whore, Finn. I’m not… not anyone’s whore—’

  He followed her; Faye felt his bare chest press lightly against her back and shoulders.

  ‘Never my whore, Faye Morgan. Only ever my willing lover,’ he murmured.

  She was horribly confused. Finn’s touch aroused her; it was unfailing, electric. Yet the fleeting memories of the last few days’ revelries fuelled her anger and shame. She had believed this was a place of magic, of beauty. She had come here willingly. But she felt sick, exhausted, and now that the permissive haze of faerie had started to slip, she could see cracks in its beautiful veneer.

  Finn touched her shoulder lightly then walked around the bed to the table where a breakfast had been left. He poured a green liquid into the two goblets and offered her one. Too late, Faye remembered that humans were never supposed to eat and drink in fairyland, or they would be lost there for ever.

  ‘I didn’t think humans could eat or drink in the faerie world. Perhaps I shouldn’t have.’ Her head echoed with their talking; everything was too bright. She wanted to close her eyes. Her anger sat at the bottom of her stomach, not gone, but waiting.

  ‘Ah.’ He smiled and sat beside her on the bed, biting into an apple. ‘But that rule doesn’t apply to you, sidhe-leth.’

  ‘Why not?’ she asked, tiredly, watching him.

  ‘I thought you knew. You are half-fae. Sidhe-leth. That is what that means.’

  Faye gaped at him, open mouthed. ‘What?’

  ‘You are half one of us, half-human. Your father was of the faerie realm.’

  ‘My… my father? But I never knew him. He left us,’ she stammered. ‘He was just some guy. Mum said… he didn’t want to be tied down. He was violent towards her, I think. He wasn’t… a…’ She broke off and stared at Finn, who took another bite of the apple and shrugged.

  ‘This is how you came so easily into the faerie world, Faye. You would have found your way here much sooner was it not for the fear your forebears instilled in you. Your ancestors were burnt for consorting with us, for learning our gifts.’

  ‘But why didn’t they tell me? Moddie and Grandmother?’ She felt sick again, but this time Faye didn’t know if it was the shock or her hangover from faerie.

  ‘I suppose they wanted to protect you. But connection to us is how you gain real power. Your great-grandmothers had real power; they lived alongside us. Learned our ways, honoured our lands. They made the appropriate sacrifices: a baby at Midwinter, a woman at Midsummer.’

  ‘I always thought that was symbolic, the sacrifices.’

  Midsummer, Midsummer, Midsummer delight; go to the faeries on Midsummer night

  Take thee a maiden, take thee a wife –

  Take thee a bairn for the rest of its life –

  Midsummer, Midsummer, Midsummer delight; go to the faeries on Midsummer night.

  The old song echoed in her mind, and Faye shivered. She’d never even considered, as a child on the beach with Grandmother, that the old song might have some truth in it.

  Finn shrugged again and wiped the apple juice from his chin.

  ‘Different times take different meanings. The babies, sometimes people would leave us an ailing one in the woods. It would die if it stayed in your world. We could take it and raise it in the faerie kingdom, then use it to strengthen our stock when it was old enough.’

  ‘Stock?’ Faye wrapped herself in a silky throw from the end of the bed; an unconscious gesture to somehow protect herself from the truth. Because it was the truth; she knew it, instinctively. She was half-faerie, and Moddie and Grandmother had never told her. To protect her, most likely, which was understandable. But at the same time, Faye was angry. She had always felt different, unusual, slightly out of things, but she never knew why. And they had denied her that part of herself all this time.

  ‘Sometimes the faerie realm sickens without good stock from the outside to make us strong. And we need to be strong, especially when we are at war.’

  ‘And the women? Taken to be lovers, like me?’ Her heart sank at the thought that Finn might have brought other women just like her to his bed; it was easy for him to enchant a human woman. They were weak and pliable, unresisting. Like she had been. Like she was. />
  Her hand went to the intricate necklace of opals before remembering she had destroyed it. Who else wore it? What other lips has he kissed, what other women has he pleasured like me? Am I no different to them? She refused to meet his eyes and hugged in her knees to her chest. She wanted to cry. She was not a queen, just the latest in a long line of women plucked from her world to please a bored king. No: not just a woman. Something else; a new identity that she would have to explore. She was half-fae – different to Finn, different to Rav. What was she? Who was she?

  ‘Sometimes.’ He lifted her chin and kissed her softly; he tasted of apple. ‘Sometimes they wet-nursed our children. That is the way of it, Faye. Time is different here. I have known many human women, but I am not old; though in your time I have ruled Murias for many years. Sometimes those women have borne children, half-fae, like you.’

  She sat up, her heart beating wildly.

  ‘Does that mean… am I… are you… my…?’ She felt sick at the thought, but stupid not to have realised immediately what he could have meant.

  ‘No, I am not your blood.’ Finn made her look at him, serious now. ‘That would not be the way of a king. Your mother loved another.’

  ‘Who?’ Faye stood up, holding the wrap around her like a cloak. ‘I demand to know who my father is. It’s my right.’

  ‘I will not hold that information from you if you seek it. His name is Lyr. He is the King of Falias, the Faerie Realm of Earth. He rules that kingdom with his sister, the Faerie Queen Moronoe.’

  ‘Lyr.’ Faye was still incredulous. ‘Moddie didn’t love him. He threatened to kill her.’

  ‘That is as may be. Still, he is your father.’

  ‘Falias. The realm you are at war with now?’ Faye remembered the name now, and Finn nodded.

  ‘Yes,’

  ‘Why are you at war with them?’

  He sighed.

  ‘Territory. The boundaries of faerie realms have shifted.’

  Faye thought for a moment.

  ‘Why is Moddie here? Her spirit, I mean. I saw her here.’ Faye was trying not to feel as though her whole being was being unpicked and re-woven, like how grandmother used to roll up an old jumper of her own and re-knit it for Faye. The elements were the same, but the shape was totally different.

  ‘I allowed your mother to come here in spirit,’ he answered smoothly.

  ‘Do you allow many humans to come here after they die?’

  He looked away, avoiding her gaze.

  ‘No,’ he answered, after a pause.

  ‘Then why Moddie?’ Faye sought his eyes, understanding all at once. ‘Oh. That’s why. Her connection to him. She gave you something in return. Something she knew about him, perhaps.’

  He smiled thinly.

  ‘A bargain was struck. The details are between my sister, Glitonea, and Modron Morgan. No-one else.’

  Faye got up and paced around. Her head was pounding but now that the veil of illusion had slipped from her a little, she wanted to use her lucidity while she could.

  ‘Why did she want to come here?’ she demanded. ‘She’s my mother. I have a right to know.’

  Finn spread his palms open in a gesture that implied he was being honest; Faye doubted that he was telling her the full truth. He was a faerie king; faeries were not prone to truth, as a rule.

  ‘Murias is the realm of emotion, of water, magic, what you humans call mysticism. Modron Morgan was a witch in life, though she never fully realised her powers, in the same way as you have not so far. She wanted the power of faerie. She learned it here.’

  ‘What is the power of faerie?’ Faye demanded, feeling her heart lift. If Moddie learned it, then so can I.

  Finn frowned.

  ‘It is secret. Not for humans.’

  ‘I am not fully human,’ she replied crisply. ‘You taught Moddie.’

  ‘I did not teach her. The faerie queens are the keepers of the magic.’ Finn turned away from her, his voice peevish.

  ‘Glitonea?’ Faye continued to push him.

  ‘In Murias – she is the Mistress of the Cup.’ Finn was evasive.

  ‘Will she teach me? I am half-fae,’ Faye repeated. To have the faerie magic would give her the power she lacked in Murias. With it, perhaps Finn wouldn’t be able to take advantage of her human weaknesses.

  ‘No!’ Finn shouted, turning to her. There was an uncomfortable silence. ‘No, sidhe-leth,’ he repeated. ‘Your mother was a special case. And she had passed from your realm already. We cannot teach the faerie magic to anyone that resides in the human world. It is forbidden.’

  ‘Well then, will I see her again?’ Faye’s heart sank; she had made her peace with Moddie’s death. When we pass over, we are busy elsewhere, Grandmother had taught her, though she had never specified where. We can teach others on the inner planes; we can come into another body for another life; we can heal, we can spend time with our loved ones. All is possible once we have passed, but that person as you knew them, when they are gone from this world, they’re gone for good. But seeing Moddie again had thrown Faye completely – all those months and years of grief were unpicked, like wool being wound back from a blanket. Now, she longed for her mother, and it hurt.

  ‘Murias is wide and far-reaching, Faye. Do not expect to see her again,’ Finn’s voice was soft, but she sensed the firmness of his resolve.

  ‘Why not?’ Her voice was quiet.

  ‘She should not have appeared to you. There are rules,’ Finn replied grimly.

  Faye felt exhaustion take her over, and she crumpled on to the bed.

  ‘I want to go home,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so tired.’ It was a physical tiredness, but the revived grief for Moddie filled her with a heaviness she remembered all too well.

  ‘You are free to go whenever you desire,’ Finn motioned towards the heavy door. ‘You are not my prisoner.’ He caught her arm. ‘But you must promise to love only me from now on, sidhe-leth. Otherwise the magic between us will decline. It will not be so easy for you to be here, in the faerie kingdom, without my love. I will treat you as a queen if you honour me as your king. But if my lover loves another, then I will punish him. And you too—’ The threat against Rav was clear. Faye pulled her arm away from Finn’s grasp.

  ‘I can promise no such thing until you treat me as queens should be treated.’ She turned to face him. ‘Queens rule. They pass judgement. Queens understand the realm they command. How can I be your queen if I’ve done none of these things?’

  His smile vanished and his fine-featured face took on a watchful look.

  ‘I mean that I will treat you as a queen should be treated. I will adore you. With my lips, my hands, everything of myself,’ he ran his finger up her arm, and she shivered at the electricity that flashed through her body at his touch. ‘But I cannot wed you as you do in your world. Such a thing does not exist in Murias, or any of the faerie kingdoms. And you cannot ever be the real queen of this realm. Glitonea is High Queen of Murias, and there is no-one else who could be. You know this.’

  ‘I don’t want to be your bride,’ Faye snapped. She was picking him up on his use of the word; but inwardly she was surprised at the suggestion. She also knew that if he touched her again, if his hands held her breasts, if his full, sulky lips found hers again, she might be submerged again in the erotic lassitude that had kept her here this long. ‘I don’t feel comfortable here any more. I need to leave. To think,’ she insisted.

  Finn picked up a golden vase and threw it against the wall, near to Faye; some of the tall reeds and white water lilies in it caught at her skin like a rebuke, and the water inside exploded on the wall.

  ‘There is nothing to think about!’ he roared; his eyes bulged in sudden fury, and Faye stepped back, her arms over her head as he kicked one of the delicate bedside tables over: it was made of crystal, and shattered on the floor. ‘You have no idea! None! How fortunate you are, what I have done to bring you here! Do you think all this – the feasting, the celebrations, the fine clothes –
do you think this is how every mortal woman is treated in Murias?’ He strode over to her and caught at her hands, but she pulled them away.

  ‘Don’t touch me.’ Faye was trying to keep her voice calm and controlled: she felt that if she shouted back, the situation would worsen. She felt as though she was trying to calm a wild horse. She was terrified, but the only way out of this was to pacify the faery king. Moddie, Grandmother, give me strength, please help me, she prayed silently, trying to regain her strength, to have something to protect her. She tried to visualise the shop, her safe place, but she couldn’t concentrate.

  ‘Time to think! You don’t know what you are thinking, Faye Morgan. Few mortals are ever chosen to be the King’s consort, to come and go with freedom from his kingdom. You are special, and I offered you more than anyone. I… I loved you. I love you.’ Finn’s eyes were desperate. Does he really believe that he loves me? Faye wondered, and, with the anger that arose in her belly – how dare he threaten me, how dare he intimidate me like this – some of the illusion that had kept her here fell away. She saw him for what he was under the cold, powerful, desirous facade: spoilt, insecure, unable to control his emotions.

  ‘Go back to your realm. Think. I will be here, waiting. But I will not wait forever, sidhe-leth. I will not have my heart broken a second time.’ Finn shrugged on his clothes and walked out, banging the door behind him.

  The black thread that she had felt, weaving itself into the fabric of her awareness, was thick now, and woven with danger. Now that her head was clearer, she was worried for Rav. Even if she never kissed him again, even if nothing ever happened again between them, he was in danger. Finn was jealous, and she had seen the shadow under his golden magic.