It was the terrible, jagged secret that had sat inside her heart like a grenade all these months; Faye was terrified of it, lest her admission caused her to choke to death. Yet she longed to be free of its weight, the worry that choked her. Tears filled her eyes.
‘You don’t understand. I can’t tell you. She’s… cursed me, or something. If I try and tell you, it’s like I’m drowning.’
Lyr grimaced, and he sat forward, staring at Faye.
‘If she has cursed you, I can remove it.’ He leaned forward and drew a number of shapes under her chin and grunted. As soon as he did so, Faye had the strangest sensation: as if she’d been wearing a tightly collared shirt all this time, and it had been unbuttoned. ‘Hmm. That should do it.’ He sat back slightly, though he kept his eyes on her face steadily. ‘Now. Tell me.’
‘You’ve… I can tell you? I’m not sure,’ she traced a finger anxiously inside the neckline of her dress.
‘It’s gone. Trust me,’ he said. ‘You should have told me this; I could have loosed the curse before now. Now, speak.’
‘A baby. My… future child,’ Faye stammered, expecting her throat to close, for the hands to reappear around her neck. But nothing happened, and when she heard herself say it out loud, it sounded surreal. Faye laughed to hide her anxiety. ‘I mean, I said yes. I had to. But she can’t possibly make it happen… make me… pregnant. I mean, maybe if I was in Murias, but even then… what would she want with a baby?’
Lyr slammed his goblet down on the low table, jumped to his feet and turned his back on her. He exhaled slowly, as if he was trying to control his voice.
‘You offered her your child? For a human lover?’ His voice was low.
‘Yes. But I don’t have one. I might never even have a baby. And anyway, if I do, she can’t exactly come and take it. It’s stupid. I think she wanted to … I don’t know. See how far I would go, or something.’ Faye appealed. Her heart was pounding, her face was flushed.
Lyr strode over to her and slapped her face. Faye reeled with the impact, and shock brought tears to her eyes. Like the pinches and tears she made in her own skin, the slap was also a relief. The spiked metal bomb she’d been holding had gone off, and she was still alive.
‘Stupid girl! You made a bargain with the High Queen of Murias and offered her my blood! It is my blood she wants. If she has even a drop of it, she can destroy me, just as Moronoe could destroy Finn or Glitonea with a little of the blood that runs in their veins. Your child will have my blood, just as you do. It matters not what happens to the child after she gets what she wants.’
Faye held her cheek, trying not to cry. She’d thought all these weeks and months that it was Rav that willed himself to forget what had happened in Murias, but she was the one that had been protecting herself from this horrific secret.
‘I’m sorry. I was desperate, and it seemed… I don’t know. So unlikely.’ She watched Lyr warily as he paced in front of her.
‘It is entirely likely that you will be with child one day, and when that day comes, they will destroy me,’ Lyr fumed, and punched the wall as he walked past it. Faye jumped; just like in Murias, the beauty of Falias had distracted her, and she was reminded that she should always be on her guard in the faerie realms.
‘What will she do with the baby?’ Faye asked, askance. It was a theoretical, future child, but terror stabbed at her heart.
‘I do not care about the fate of the child that does not yet exist. I care about my own self-preservation, and the preservation of my realm!’ Lyr shouted, and paced the lodge. He came back to the table, poured another goblet of wine and drained it, then stared suspiciously at Faye. ‘She made no other bargain with you? Glitonea is a Mistress of Magic. I sense that if you were close to her power, it may have been irresistible for you. Yes,’ he looked deeper into Faye’s eyes; she wondered about lying for a moment, then knew it would be impossible to lie to Lyr. ‘She did offer you something else. You bargained for more than your rescue. What was it? Speak, child!’
Faye looked at her feet, distressed. She wanted to go home and forget all of this: in that moment, she thought of Rav. She’d been wrong to judge him for wanting to forget. For wanting a normal life.
‘I didn’t know you. You were… a distant concept. A father I had never known,’ she protested.
‘What did she offer you, and what did you agree to give her?’ Lyr insisted, and Faye gulped. He seemed to have grown larger, and towered over her in the lodge.
‘She said I could help them. To be a weapon against you when the time came, in the war. It wouldn’t hurt me. I agreed to that.’
Lyr swore under his breath and kicked the table over. ‘And what did she give you in return?’ he growled. ‘The life of some other worthless human lover?’
Not worthless. The man I love, Faye thought. The same protective urge that had taken her back into Murias to rescue Rav reawakened, and made her angry. How dare this faerie king lecture her, when he’d done precisely nothing to help her know any better about surviving in the faerie realms? She’d been desperate there: under threats she’d little way of countering. Lyr could have known her when she was a child. He could have taught her the power that she sought now, belatedly – the power that was her birthright.
‘She taught me the magic of Murias.’ Faye met Lyr’s stare and refused to drop it. ‘I refused to be Finn Beatha’s whore. I wanted to go back and forth in the faerie realm as I wished, so she gave me some of her wisdom. And, yes. I promised what she wanted. I would do it again to save the man I love, and save myself,’ she heard her voice grow louder, like his. ‘I don’t owe you anything, Lyr of Falias. I don’t expect you to be a father to me now; it’s too late. But you owe me the respect you should give one of your family, at the very least,’
She turned to go, but he gripped her arm.
‘Stay,’ he commanded, but she pulled her arm free.
‘You can’t command me,’ she spat, and strode out of the lodge and into the village.
Twenty-One
Lyr had brought Faye to Falias, and she had no idea how to get home. Still, she stalked through the village, scowling. Lyr had treated her like an errant daughter, and it rankled. Yes, he was technically her father, but he hadn’t been a father in any of the important ways. He hadn’t helped her with her homework, or read her bedtime stories, or taken her to the park. He wasn’t there when she was ill, and he wasn’t there when Moddie died, leaving Faye to run the shop on her own. Last, he’d denied her faerie heritage. Lyr was a father in blood only and, clearly, blood was all he cared about.
She heard him behind her and increased her pace, but she was no match for him. Lyr strode past her easily and stopped her with one hand on her shoulder. She shook it off.
‘Leave me alone,’ she muttered.
‘No, Faye. I apologise for my anger. We do not know each other and it was inappropriate,’ he rumbled. ‘Please. Come back and we will talk. I was angry, I did not expect it… to have gone this far. I can get you into Murias to find your friend. I have no love for Finn and Glitonea, so it will be my pleasure to deny them a human follower. And…’ he broke off, and looked away. ‘There is much magic to be learnt here, too, child. As a daughter of Falias it is your birthright.’
‘Maybe I don’t want to learn your magic,’ she scoffed, but she was lying. Being back in the fae realm – even one as different as this to Murias – was intoxicating. The power of the fae ran in her veins, and this place shone with an immanent glow of power. The faerie part of her felt at home here; the faerie part of her wanted to know it intimately. Perhaps he’d read her mind just now. Perhaps he felt the sorrow she did when she thought about everything he could have taught her: all the power he could have helped her to gain, without her having to resort to dangerous bargains with the Queen of Murias.
‘That is your choice,’ Lyr said quietly. Faye shrugged.
‘You haven’t told me what you want from me yet.’ She spoke clearly into the strange air, watching three fae
children play a game, dropping sticks into a gurgling stream that wound between the houses. It could have been her; perhaps she could have lived half her life here, in Falias, learning the crafts of the fae; listening to Lyr’s deep rumble as he laughed, as he showed her which crystals could be found where in the faerie forest. Half here, and half in Abercolme, like a true sidhe-leth.
But that had been denied her, by Lyr as well as Moddie and Grandmother, in their way.
‘Come back to the dwelling and I will tell you what I require,’ Lyr answered, testily.
‘No. Tell me now,’ she insisted, and stood her ground. The faerie king glared at her. ‘I told you my secret. Now you know. You know everything. Tell me.’
‘And I rid you of the curse, do not forget.’ He breathed out testily and gave her a searching look. ‘Fine. Then, what I require as your side of the bargain is a human woman to bear my child. You will know of someone, I’m sure. Fear not, they will not be mistreated, and I am a generous king to those who please me. In times past, I would go into your world and find my own lovers; find strong women to bear my children. But now, with the war, I am tired.’
‘No!’ Faye exclaimed; she was horrified. How could Lyr ask her to deceive another woman, to assign her to the same fate as Faye?
‘You asked what my side of the bargain was. That is it.’
‘It’s intolerable. I won’t do it,’ she spat. ‘I can’t believe you’d ask me.’
‘It is what I want,’ he repeated.
‘I’ve heard you have many half-fae children,’ she retorted. ‘Why do you need another?’
‘There is a purpose for this child, but that is not your concern,’ Lyr dismissed her question. ‘Just bring me the woman, and I will do the rest.’
‘No. Until you tell me the fate that awaits the child, I’ll do no such thing,’ Faye replied; she felt exhausted; it was all too much. Her feelings about Lyr. Her childhood memories. The exhaustion of the curse. She hadn’t known Glitonea’s twisted intentions for her baby-yet-to-be when she’d made their bargain: she wouldn’t be sucked into such an agreement again. ‘And, anyway, whatever you want a baby for, it’s unconscionable for me to agree. You can’t spirit babies away to your realms, away from their mothers. It’s just not right.’
‘The child will be treated with every care and luxury my realm allows.’ Lyr shook his head. ‘I would never hurt a child, human, half-human or otherwise. Of all the realms, mine is the one most intimately associated with your kind, and I am fond of humans beyond all the other faerie Kings and Queens.’ Lyr stepped aside to let the children run past, whooping and shouting excitedly in their game.
‘You have to tell me what you want the child for,’ Faye insisted.
‘As you wish,’ he sighed. ‘I have an heir, my full-blood faerie son, Luathas. He will soon command my faerie legions in battle. But it is too risky to have him in the field, so I would have a half-fae child, a boy, who I could substitute for him. If he is half human, he will have the physical endurance and strength of a human as well as his fae abilities. He just needs to be dark, like Luathas and me.’
‘No!’ Faye cried. ‘It’s just not right.’ She was disappointed – in Lyr and all of them. None of them had an honest reason for wanting any contact with humans; every time, it was to get something they wanted. And they seemed to have no conscience about it at all.
‘Then I cannot help you rescue your friend from Murias.’ Lyr frowned. ‘And you have seen what happens to the lovers of the fae there.’
‘Then I’ll find another way.’ Faye wanted to go home. To pull the duvet over her head and sleep for a thousand years.
‘You will do what you will, Faye Morgan,’ Lyr replied wearily. ‘Remember my offer. It is the only way you can return without acquiescing to Finn Beatha, and undoing everything you have done so far.’ Lyr took a wooden wand from his leather belt and drew a circle on the dry earth floor. Inside it, he scratched a symbol, something Faye didn’t recognise. ‘Lest you forget your friend,’ he said, and blew on the dust.
The dirt made way for something else; for a moment, a hole tunnelled down through the earth; Faye glimpsed roots and stone, and strata of old earth. Immediately, it was replaced with something like a mirror or a glass, though it seemed to grow within the space like a translucent mushroom. In it, it was hard to make out what she saw; the picture was distorted, as if she looked through a magnifying glass or circus mirror.
The room she was looking into was dark, the edge of the picture faded and rounded into blackness. Dim yellow light flickered against shapes in the shadow.
‘Aisha?’ Faye squatted down and peered into the magic mirror, if that was what it was. ‘Is that Aisha? Where is she? It’s dark. I can’t see anything.’
‘Look closer.’ Lyr’s voice was dispassionate; like Finn and his sister, the Faerie Queen Glitonea, her faerie king father claimed to have great fondness for humans, but he was immune to their cares and sufferings as much as his cousins. Nonetheless, she squinted to make out what she was seeing.
Whatever the room was, she hadn’t seen anything like it when she’d been in Murias. Gone were the golden balustrades and luxurious, heavy tapestries; in this room, there were no faerie musicians playing a merry jig.
Four figures slumped against rough stone walls; a small fireplace of sorts in the corner illuminated rusty chains that shackled their wrists to the rock with a dim orange glow. At the moment that Faye looked, one figure turned its face up, as if reaching for light or oxygen, and Faye recognised her friend’s face.
‘Oh, my god.’
Horror choked Faye. She wanted to look away but couldn’t: Aisha’s skin stretched tight over her cheekbones, and her usually bright, intelligent eyes were dull. The skin around one eye was bruised, and her shiny black hair was matted and dirty.
‘Where is she? Why… Finn took her to be his lover.’ Faye looked aghast at Lyr, who kicked dirt onto the strange mirror and traced a different symbol in the dirt; as soon as it had appeared, it faded back into mud again. Faye fell to her knees and scratched at the ground, but Lyr put a warm hand on her shoulder.
‘It is gone, daughter. Earth magic, no more, no less.’
‘But… what I saw? That was real?’
‘Yes.’ Lyr tried to take her hand, but she shook it free. ‘I merely showed you the truth, Faye. It is not my doing.’
‘But she’s… Aisha, she’s… trapped there. Suffering.’
‘You knew she was in Murias. This cannot come as a surprise.’
‘I know, but…’ Faye felt shocked tears run down her cheeks. ‘I… I thought at least she… he… I thought he wanted her. And she went willingly.’
‘You of all people know that Finn Beatha’s lovers enjoy his favour at his whim.’ Lyr’s tone was neutral; he didn’t seem to judge the other faerie king, but recount it as fact. ‘You escaped the extremes of Murias, as you are half-faerie. But you know that the human loves of the fae of Murias are not so lucky.’
Faye had no response; she knew Lyr was right, and she also knew she’d been denying the truth to herself. She had known. She’d seen the faerie reel, seen the broken bodies under it. She’d known that was Aisha’s fate sooner or later.
‘I suppose I… I didn’t want to believe it.’ Faye’s heart felt like lead. It was all her fault; her fault from the day that she, Annie and Aisha did that love spell on the floor of her shop; it had worked – too well. In less than a year, reality had spun on its axis. Everything had changed. Annie had found love with Suze and Faye with Rav. But Aisha had walked willingly into faerie, and now she was dying there for a fascination she mistook for love.
‘How… how long will she survive there? If I… before I get to her?’ Faye stammered. She was in shock; she wanted to go back through that glassy surface, to grab Aisha and pull her through, but she knew she couldn’t.
‘In human time? It is hard to say. A few months, perhaps. Half a year at the most.’
Faye’s heart was a stone falling into a sti
ll, black loch.
‘My offer still stands.’ Lyr’s voice was low and soft, but Faye heard the steel under it. ‘Find me a human woman to bear my child and I will help you bring your friend home.’
‘I want to go home.’ Faye needed time to think; though time is one thing that Aisha doesn’t have, she reminded herself. You think you have the luxury of time, but Aisha is dying. Because of you.
‘Then go,’ Lyr sighed, and held something out in his hand. ‘Take this. A gift, from me to you.’ He handed her a black crystal wand, very like those she’d seen on the table, making up the powerful grids. Was this the same, or something different?
‘What is it?’ She took it and turned it over in her hand; as soon as her skin made contact, the crystal vibrated, thrumming with warmth. She let out a surprised cry. It was heavy and smooth as glass, but it felt alive.
‘It is made of obsidian – volcanic glass: a magic of fire and earth combined. A part of my realm, daughter. Something of your home, to be with you. Should you need me, or need the power of Falias, use it, hold it to make you feel connected to the earth; it will keep you safe.’
Faye held it to her heart, and felt a strange reassurance emanating from it.
‘I will be here, daughter.’ Lyr waved his hand and the mists swirled around her again: gold and green and brown. She felt the same dissonance of being and not-being, all at once.
‘Remember your heritage, Faye. Remember who you are. You are the daughter of Lyr of Falias,’ his voice echoed in her mind as she closed her eyes. ‘And remember my offer, daughter. While you rail against what you know must be done, your friend grows weaker.’
In her heart, she knew that the horror she’d seen was true, not an illusion created by Lyr for his own ends – him showing her the vision was manipulation enough. But some truths were too hard to face dead on, and her mind sought madly for ways to rationalise it, ways to mask it and make it reasonable. Yet there were none.
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