by M. C. Aquila
“Where are you going, lad?” Cai asked him in his usual gruff tone. “You shouldn’t wander in this realm alone.”
“I won’t be alone. I’m meeting up with Alvey.”
“This early, huh? Seelie faeries typically sleep in until later.” When James turned to look at Cai, the knight was smirking. “You think I’m just a stupid, clueless old man, don’t you?”
James shrugged. “You’re, um, the one who said it. Not me.”
The man scowled and called after him as James kept walking to the tree line, looking straight ahead with his head held high.
He needed to find a well.
Following the sound of dripping water led James to a large, grey, moss-covered rock protruding from the ground in a small clearing, looming like a standing stone. A circular stone well was naturally built into the rock at the base. The water was dark, nearly black in the shadow of the forest, and it was not as pure and fresh as the last well he’d encountered. He fished out the leaves floating on the surface.
Tossing his pack to the ground, he sat in front of the well and peered into the surface, focusing. The water faintly rippled, like a curtain shifting, but nothing seemed to happen.
“Cecil?” James asked in a whisper. “Do I have to—should I make, um, a command or something?”
A faint, irritated, and muffled groan reached his ears. “By the gods, what time is it?” Cecil’s usually clear voice was scratchy. “It is far too early for anyone to be awake. This had better be dire.”
The black surface of the well shimmered as Cecil removed a cloth from over the mirror on his side. The man’s long hair was tangled on his head, and he was wearing a black velvet dressing gown and holding a silver goblet.
The drooping golden eyes brightened after Cecil blinked a few times. “James!” he said happily. “I expected you to call on me today, but I did not think it would be so early. Is anything wrong?”
“It’s really, um, not that early.”
“It is when you have been out all night.” Cecil took a sip from his goblet.
“Tea?”
“Not tea.”
The man set his drink down out of sight and turned his full attention to the mirror. “You did not answer my question. Does something trouble you?”
“No—yes, maybe. I don’t know.” The boy fiddled with a loose thread in his sweater sleeve.
“Why have you contacted me, James? Be honest.”
“I just—” He jolted at the realization, saying slowly, “I just wanted to talk to you, I guess.”
Cecil’s brows rose. “Well, you must feel quite abandoned if I am the only person you can trust. I cannot say I mind you calling, even at such an ungodly hour.”
Remembering his conversation with Deirdre last night and their talk of what the creature wanted, James straightened, alert. “Anyway, I-I want to start learning magic, if you’re ready to teach me. Why, um, do you want to teach me? What do you—? Why—?”
“What do I gain from this, you ask?” Cecil smiled knowingly. “Despite being incredibly difficult to kill, I share the same desire all mortal men do: to pass on what I know and to leave behind a legacy. I wish to do so by teaching you what I’ve learned. You, specifically.” He narrowed his gaze, studying him. “But, James, is it so difficult for you to believe that anyone could simply want to share your company?”
James couldn’t form an answer as he stared blankly at the rock in front of him, shoulders stiff and hunched.
“Regardless… what did you have in mind?” Cecil asked, then added with a dismissive wave, “More Fire Crystals, I imagine?”
“Well, I was thinking about the explosive crystals I made—remember? I wanted to try something like that again.” After thinking a moment, he said, “What do you think would work best against Unseelie hounds? We, uh, ran into a pack of them on the way in.”
“Ah! I am quite familiar with those beasts. I even led the hunt myself a few times.”
James’s stomach lurched. He choked out, disgusted, “You… you led the Unseelie hunt? You chased thralls with those monsters? How could—?”
“You seem shocked by this.” Cecil’s face was a blank mask, though his features twitched briefly. “Does it truly bother you that much? You’ve known from the beginning who I serve, what I do.”
“Yes, it bothers me!”
“Why?”
Grabbing his pack, James produced the Unseelie Fae book from inside and thrust it toward the well for him to see, his knuckles blanching from the tightness of his grasp. “Because… because you did all this first. You did all this research, and it’s good research. It’s brilliant, actually! It’s helped me, and I’m sure it’s helped others too. So why would you stop doing this research to work for the Winter Court?”
When Cecil said nothing, James continued speaking in a heated rush. “You said you weren’t on anyone’s side but ours. Then why won’t you help me? Why won’t you let my mum go? Why am I even talking to you if you won’t fix any of this?”
“Because I am teaching you magic, as we discussed,” Cecil said, calm and impassive. “And believe me, if I could simply free your mother, I would do so at your request. But magic—”
“I know, I know.” James interrupted him. “You said magic doesn’t work like that. But you also said you can will it to do anything if your intent is strong enough. But if I can’t use magic to protect my family, then what’s the point?”
Cecil took a huge swallow from his goblet before setting it back down. “Of course you can use magic to protect and defend people now. But what you cannot do is bend magic to give you back what you’ve lost. That is what you are asking me to do—to return your mother’s freedom without the proper sacrifice needed. The only person who could do that is your father, for he is the one who made the original bargain. And honestly, I do not see that happening.”
The man sighed and carded his fingers through his hair, pushing it from his face, looking tired from more than merely waking early. The golden eyes flicked up to meet the boy’s fierce gaze.
“We lose things all the time, James.” Cecil’s faint smile was somber. “We lose people, loved ones. And we cannot get them back, no matter how much we want to. Not even with magic. But we can learn new things, exchange old for new. Magic can give us that power.”
“What do you mean?”
“Many years ago, I had a sister—a sister by blood. I lost her. And we both lost our little brother.” Cecil sat down on the floor in front of the mirror so they were face-to-face. “I did not replace my sister with Vera—my little fiddler is quite different from her. But I got a chance at a new, perhaps better family.”
James lowered his head. “I think I understand, uh, what you mean.”
“Magic cannot undo what your father did to you,” Cecil continued. “It cannot change that your mother left you and perhaps suffered in your place. But it could help free her now, and you can learn from me to do it. We can exchange the same way magic can, if you will allow it.”
“I want to,” James admitted, “but I shouldn’t be talking to you after what you’ve done.”
Cecil shook his head. “You are trying to define me again. You are limiting your thinking and yourself. You are smarter than that.”
Disappointment was like a knife held to the boy’s neck—sharp and cold and making it difficult to swallow. “When I read this, I don’t see the Cait Sidhe or… or the Master in the pages. I just see”—he gestured helplessly to the visage of the man in the reflection, who looked entirely human and normal—“Cecil Morris, the researcher and the author of this book.”
“And what do you see in Cecil Morris?”
James dug his fingers of his free hand into his knees, willing his voice to steady. “Someone who could be my friend, I guess.”
As he recoiled from the mirror, Cecil’s mask slipped from his face and would have shattered on the ground if it were made of something tangible. Then his mouth formed a small, earnest smile.
“While I am c
ertain we could have been absolutely the best of chums, I’m afraid you might’ve found Cecil Morris the researcher quite dull.” He laughed, adding, “Before I started researching Fae and magic, gambling was my main pursuit. But when I got my first taste of real magic…” He closed his eyes, sighing with pleasure as if reliving the sensation. “I threw myself into research, traveling all over and visiting ancient sites, translating ancient tomes. For the first time in my life, I was passionate about something. I wanted to learn everything.”
James leaned forward with interest. “I know the feeling.”
“Of course you do!” Cecil slapped his hands against his knees with glee. “And of course your desire to learn transformed to a desire to experience, as mine did. That desire is what drove me to become the Cait Sidhe.”
“And how did that happen?”
Cecil leaped to his feet and out of sight. There was a clattering of objects and a few creative swears before he returned, holding a dark crystal in his hands. He said, “I taught you to use crystals to channel and contain magic and intent, remember?”
“Yes.”
“That is not the only way to do it. I discovered how to absorb the magic I needed into myself, absorbing its energy into mine.” The golden eyes gleamed slyly. “That is how I am able to do this without any ingredients or spells.”
With a grand flourish, the sleeve of his robes swishing, Cecil raised his free hand into the air, and suddenly the room was filled with dancing lights, similar to the ones Roshan had cast the night they had arrived to the Summer Court.
“Channeling magic into your being is what will make you a true threat, a force. No more clumsy fumbling with crystals and flint.” The lights disappeared as Cecil lowered his hand. “Shall we continue your lessons then?”
James opened his mouth to answer but hesitated.
As if sensing his discomfort and knowing what it meant, the man said gently, “These exchanges between us will stay between Cecil Morris and James Callaghan. No Winter Court, no Summer Court, and no Cait Sidhe. It is just between us chums. Do we have a deal?”
“Deal.” James’s dampened spirits lifted. “How do I start?”
“Firstly, you will need to find a creature, object, or area containing strong, innate magic you wish to channel. Think of the Blackthorn tree we used the last time. Once you have something, come back here or to any other well, and we shall begin.”
James gasped as the sound of an owl screeching floated through the forest. “I think I’m being spied on—you have to go!” he said in a hushed, urgent tone. “And I’m going to meet up with my, um— Well, there’s this half elf, and she’s really… I dunno—but I’ll come back later when I’ve found something with magic in it.”
“Say no more.”
He vanished, leaving James’s solitary reflection in the dark well. One of the owl faeries flew into sight on a branch a few yards away and tilted its head at the boy. When he frowned at it, eyes narrowed, the faery tapped one of its taloned feet on the branch impatiently. It took off in flight only to land again a few feet away, wanting James to follow it.
The creature led him right to Alvey, where she was waiting in her chair with her arms folded. When he approached, a stream of sunlight glinted off her pale skin and hair, making it glow warmly, and his pulse quickened at the memory of their kiss. But then he braced himself for Alvey to say the whole evening had been a mistake.
He wasn’t Alvey’s first choice. He was just there maybe. And he didn’t know if he could handle another rejection like Deirdre’s last night.
“What, pray tell, were you doing in the woods alone this morning?” Alvey asked, her nose in the air. “You were alone, were you not?” James panicked, but she continued, her fingers gripping her armrests, “You were not spending time with some empty-headed nymph girl, were you?”
“Definitely not!” He bit back a smile, adding, “You know, they’re, um, probably not that great anyway. I don’t even want to meet a nymph anymore. I mean… You’re a lot, um, nicer and prettier and stuff. And you probably wouldn’t try to drown me, so… there’s another bonus!”
The half elf did not quite manage to hide her own smile.
* * *
“I told you to follow me and stay close!” Alvey snapped as she heard James, yet again, traipsing through the forest in the opposite direction of her family’s dwelling. The last time, he had nearly disturbed a nest of gnomes. Before then, he had followed a will-o’-the-wisp, surely to be lost forever.
He sighed, catching up to her and pushing her chair again. “But… but there are these brilliant mushroom faeries, and they’re carrying insects back to their den—”
“You have not eaten yet, aye?” Alvey rode right over his explanation.
“Not yet.”
“Very well, you may dine with my mother and me. She was woken this morning by foul dreams.” Alvey gulped at the memory of her waking with a startled cry and sobbing inconsolably. “But now she has recollected herself.”
“You sure it’s all right?” James asked, a bit hesitant. “Not that, um, I don’t want to meet her or anything…”
“She is far less temperamental when she is not under stress.” Alvey smiled in his direction. “Aside from her dreams, this is a good morning for her. I shall like you to see her as she truly is.”
Over the years, Alvey had sorted her mother’s actions into two categories: her true, alert, and collected self and her wounded, disoriented shadow. Although her father tried to help her reconcile those two disparate sides, it was easier to believe that the mother who got lost in waking dreams and disconnected from reality was a different person.
My true mother is better than that. And she would never let anything come between her and her family…
James gasped beside her and asked, “Is this your house? It’s, um, the first one I’ve seen here.”
“Aye.” Alvey rolled faster toward their large, gazebo-like dwelling. “Noble faeries have no permanent dwelling, for they sleep wherever they find themselves. However, having some shelter is necessary for me and for my mother at times.”
“Alvey, who is this?” Sybil’s voice rang out clearly, not from the gazebo but from the woods on the other side. Alvey could smell the apples and fresh-baked bread she carried.
“’Tis James, one of the humans who came here with me,” Alvey replied as they entered the gazebo, meeting her there. “Did you go to one of the orchards? I said I would.”
“But ’tis a fine morning, and I did not wish to miss it,” her mother said, placing her basket of food on the low table; faeries lounged on cushions when they ate together. She cleared the table of dust and dirt with a wave of Wind Magic, mixed with Light Magic to remove any bacteria, then placed the food directly on the wooden top. “Fetch the cups and tea leaves, would you, Alvey?”
“Fine.” She sensed James standing stiffly behind her, smelling a little sweaty. “Go ahead and sit then. We shall eat soon.”
“Um, okay. Anywhere in particular, or…?”
“Wherever you like.” Alvey headed to a low cabinet carved into the wall.
Although the tea cabinet was heavily perfumed with a mix of scents, Alvey had no problem finding which tea was where. She selected a spicy blend to go with the apples, grabbed the cups, and returned to the table, lowering her chair and sliding onto the cushions near James.
“Where do you come from, James?” Sybil asked as she drew water from an enormous barrel with magic, boiled it midair with Fire Magic, and portioned it into the stone cups.
“N-Neo-London,” he replied, clearly distracted by the skilled but casual display of magic. Alvey couldn’t help but grin proudly, wishing she could see the look on his face.
“And what brought you to the realm?” Sybil broke the warm, fragrant grainy bread and passed it out with an apple. Alvey tensed, willing James not to mention Deirdre.
“I, well… My brother wanted to talk with the king and queen, I guess.”
“And what was your reason?
” Sybil’s voice was sharp.
Alvey clenched her fists. “Honestly, Mother, there is no need to interrogate him so.”
“It’s all right,” James said, clearing his throat. “I-I wanted to see the realm for myself. I’ve always been interested in magic, and it’s kind of connected to me already…”
“You speak of your mark, identifying you as a thrall.” Sybil took a small bite of apple. “And your mother, I believe… there was a similar sign on her, as I recall.”
Alvey raised her eyebrows, surprised her mother could remember such a small detail from the Court’s session the other morning. A pang of guilt hit her. I suppose she was more aware in that moment than I gave her credit for.
“I did want to know more about that, yes,” James replied, his voice lowering, as if he was hanging his head.
“Then I am sorry to tell you our powers are limited when it comes to the binds humans find themselves in. We cannot even save those poor, wretched souls the Unseelie hounds hunt.” She sighed, then sniffed. “The tea is ready. Remove the leaves now.”
As they did so, James asked, “Does this mean, um, the Summer Court is weaker than the Winter Court?” He sucked in his breath and added, “Not that it’s… I mean, maybe it’s just not any more powerful, or…”
“Seelies and Unseelies have differing strengths and weaknesses,” Sybil replied. “But we are all limited by the rules of magic. This includes the rules of magical deals.”
Seeming to accept this, James asked, “Does the Summer Court make deals? How many?”
“Did you know he was this inquisitive, Alvey?” Sybil asked, a smile in her voice.
Alvey sipped her tea, then said, “In the past, he was wont to ask five or more questions at a time, not merely two.”
James shifted beside her. “Could a deal made with the Summer Court override a deal made with an Unseelie, um, power?”
“One deal cannot cancel out another. I am sorry, James, but oddly enough, the solution to magical deals are often… not necessarily magical. I believe you humans have the story of a gold-spinning faery, whose deal with a woman was broken by simply guessing his name? Such is the way it goes.
