Xan loved being fae. She loved being connected to the world — plants, animals, insects — she could feel and see all their energies. She loved every part of her fae upbringing, except, of course, being next in line for the Seelie Court crown.
Xan waved her elongated hand at the water and the gentle ripples gave way to a path leading to the island. She didn’t part the sea, she merely froze a few inches of water, creating a crystal clear bridge from where she was to where she wanted to be. Xan stepped onto her creation, shoring up her footing before putting her whole weight on the ice, and walked the few hundred yard to the island.
The tall, blue-haired fae reached the island with grace an onlooker would deem inhuman and headed right for the biggest tree in the center of the island. An enormous weeping willow.
Not just any willow. The exterior door to the Seelie Court.
Anyone who knew the slightest bit about trees knew the island was far too small to support the invasive root structure of a regular willow, let alone the fifty-foot tall monstrosity in the middle of a tiny island.
Xandrie flicked her wrist and wiggled her fingers in a childish sort of “hello”, and a door appeared in the face of the tree, standing ten feet high. It swung open and Xan entered, trailing the spell to close the magical entrance to the land of the fae behind her. She walked down the gently sloped tunnel, not paying attention to the green glow of the fat little larvae in the walls, or the sprites zipping around her head, and in no time was in the middle of the Seelie Courtyard.
“Mistress Xandrie! You’re so late!” her friend and former attendant Eudora said, ushering her into the Hearing Chamber. “What took you so long? You aren’t changing your mind, are you? I’d love to see you take your rightful place as Queen.” The words gushed from Eudora, her pale silvery hair dancing around her head as though weightless.
Xan’s hair rose from her head as well, and she had to force her feet to stay on the ground instead of gliding a few inches above it.
All fae were more powerful inside the sidhe.
Xan laughed. “Nothing like that, Eudora. I got caught up in the bakery and had to make a last minute catering delivery.”
“You’re still doing that?”
“Yes, and I’m quite good at it, too,” Xan said to the purple-eyed girl. Eudora had been Xan’s favorite handmaiden right until she decided there was more to life than a cloistered royal one.
“I’m sure you are, Mistress,” the fae said and bowed deeply to her superior.
Xan had long ago stopped trying to change Eudora. The pomp and circumstance was far too ingrained into the tiny fae woman. She’d never agree to drop the honorific and simply call Xan, Xan. And she’d always try to convince Xandrie that her place was in the sidhe.
Because it was.
Xan didn’t mind. She knew that’s who just who Eudora was.
Eudora opened both doors to the Hearing Chamber, bowed as was custom, and stepped aside.
“Xandrine Kovak, Holder of The Pearl, Soul Daughter of Hadassah and Radburn Kovak, and Rightful Heir to the Seelie Crown,” announced a footman stationed by the door. Xan never could wrap her head around how he kept so many birth names, true names, and titles straight. She entered the room and seated herself at her parents’ dining table, across from her mother and diagonal to her father.
Her mother shook her head at her. “Xandrie, dear, you could have at least made an effort. What are you wearing?” asked the woman Xandrie got her preternatural charm from. “Is that a uniform? Are you wearing the clothes of a servant?”
“Mother, you know better,” she said as she smoothed the fabric of her polo shirt. “This uniform is for my bakery, the one I own, operate, and make a hell of a profit from.”
Her mother smiled, golden hair piled high on her head and sparkling under the charmed fairy lights. Hadassah’s hair didn’t float like everyone else’s, her attendants spent far too much time and effort making it look elaborate and coiffed to let the sidhe have its way with it.
“Don’t be so hard on her, Hadassah,” Xan’s father said, taking his wife of over two-hundred years hand. “You know she has to make her own way. And as I recall, you weren’t too dissimilar in your youth.”
“Oh, stop it Radburn. You know I have to give her a hard time. It wouldn’t be a homecoming if her parents didn’t give her a little grief. Isn’t that right Xandrine?”
“Xandrie is fine, mom,” Xan reminded. Though her mother would never agree to call her by the diminutive she’d gotten in the earth realm — Xan. She had gotten her mother to settle on Xandrie, with some reminding. “And I could do without it.”
Hadassah Kovak, current Queen of the Seelie Court bristled at her daughter’s words. The game she played was an old one, and Xan knew all the rules.
Fae social politics were a nightmare sometimes.
Xan let it go and picked at the three a.m. meal before her.
Because in the Seelie Court all matters of importance were dealt with over a meal. The more food, the more important the issue.
“I suppose you haven’t changed your mind this time, have you darling?” asked Xan’s father as he put a slice of melon between his lips.
“No, I haven’t,” said Xan.
“Then let’s not waste any time. Make the speech, and let’s get on with the meal.”
“Radburn!” Her mother’s shocked expression make Xan’s fork stall mid-bite.
“Yes, dear?” he said in the same tone he’d used for two hundred years. Loving and long-suffering.
“You know things are different now,” she said.
“Are they? It’s the same as it’s always been, my love. The Unseelie Court wants a strengthened alliance by marrying their son to our daughter. Our daughter wants no part of that, not that I blame her. I wouldn’t want to be married off to some stranger for political reasons either.”
“Oh, Radburn, you Unseelie devil!” Hadassah smiled as her husband poked fun at their own arranged marriage.
Anyone could tell that Radburn wasn’t of the Seelie Court. His dark hair and broad build said only one thing, dark fae. The alliance Xandrie’s grandparents had formed by marrying her mother and father had been a tenuous one, and both Seelie and Unseelie Courts wanted to reinforce it with a second generation marriage.
“Radburn,” Hadassah said, aiming for a sobering tone but missing by a hair’s breadth. “Things have escalated. They need Xandrie more than ever now.”
Xan’s father hushed her mother. “Xandrie, do you want to meet him?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then it’s settled. Proceed with the renouncement ceremony.”
As Xan stood and recited the same words she’d recited countless times, every ten years since, well, since fifty years ago, she realized how lucky she was to have such understanding parents. The rest of the Seelie court couldn’t comprehend why the King and Queen let their only heir gallivant around in the human realm while neglecting her duties to the sidhe. But, since they were the King and Queen, there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. Except the occasional sideways glance whenever Xandrie did come home.
The words that weren’t just words but a spell in an ancient, long forgotten tongue, tumbled from Xan’s lips, returning all the power of the sidhe to her parents. If Xandrie had been a few minutes later the power would have gone to her, the rightful heir, giving her no choice but to take her place as the sidhe’s next ruler.
Xan finished the spell and her parents shivered as their powers were reinforced, sparkling down from the very walls of the sidhe. “You know I respect your choices, Xandrie, but you really don’t know what you’re missing,” said her mother as she shivered once more. “As connected as you are now, imagine it ten, even twenty-fold. Plus, there’s that little extra bit of power we get just for shimmering.
Xan sighed. It would be nice to be able to shimmer from Theron’s to the bakery in the beat of a heart. She’d get more sleep, and still have more time to come up with new menu items. But Xan re
ally liked driving. And she definitely didn’t think teleportation was worth giving up her whole life for.
“I’ll stick with cars, mom,” she said and sat back at the table.
“Well, know that we support whatever decision you make,” her father said. “But we won’t live forever, Xan. Eventually, you will have to come to terms with the fact that you are royal and you will have to rule the Seelie Court.”
“I know dad, I know.”
Just then, Xan had the strangest sensation of something tugging on her middle. Like someone was pulling at her bellybutton.
“What’s wrong, dear?” her mother asked as Xan’s face twisted into a grimace.
Damnit. I thought we were past this bullshit.
“I hate to cut this short, but I have to deal with something. Would you mind shimmering me to the center of town?”
4
Zora
Zora had no idea what to do about her energy situation, but having people around helped her think. Not that she blamed Jane or Xan for leaving after she rained broken glass on their heads.
The gypsy finished sweeping up the glass, double checked the locks, and headed back to her condo.
Except that’s not where she ended up. She found herself, quite by accident heading for Annie’s house.
“Come in, Zora,” Annie said in the doorway of the tiny cottage she shared with her partner Jade. Who also happened to be Zora’s business partner at the bar.
Annie’s eyes were foggy and unfocused, just as Zora expected. But she hadn’t expected Annie to answer the door half naked.
Lavender-blonde hair grazed her skin just before the curve of her more than ample breasts. Annie wore a flowing, long skirt low on her hips and nothing else. Her rounded belly and white skirt gave her a hippie/fertility goddess vibe.
“Gods Annie, aren’t you cold? Where’s Jade? She left The Laughing Cat hours ago,” Zora asked as she entered the homey, if not over-decorated cottage. The gypsy took in the decor, mostly as a way to keep her gaze off Annie’s nude torso. Every surface had at least one crystal. Most had multiple. Tumbled stones, geodes, and agate slices all glittered in the moonlight soaked room.
Annie’s collection had grown since Zora’s last visit.
“Jade went to get some herbs for me, and why would I be cold, Zora?”
It was a genuine question. Annie didn’t know she was shirtless.
Zora couldn’t help but notice the couple had added a window seat to the front-facing bay window. Despite the quality and the gorgeous upholstery, the space was far too small to hold such a large piece. It threw the balance of the whole living area off.
From a design perspective, it was a beautiful eyesore.
Annie’s calico cat, hissed and gargoyled itself in the corner of the room as Zora entered the space fully.
“Callie knows you don’t like her,” Annie said and gave the cat a calming pet. “I thought you might stop by,” she said when the cat had relaxed out of her habitual gargoyle position.
“Did you? I didn’t even know I was coming until I ended up here,” said Zora.
“That’s the way it works, isn’t it?” Annie stared serenely into the distance before continuing. “Jade mentioned you’d been having a hard time with you energy since Amari...” Annie let her words trail away.
Most people did.
No one finished the “now that Amari was dead” thought. At least, not while Zora was within earshot.
Zora didn’t remark on it. “I was hoping you could concoct some kind of potion for me. You did such a great job with the grief tea that I thought you could do something for this other thing.”
Annie’s eyes fogged over midway through Zora’s sentence but cleared when it was her turn to speak. “That’s not the way it works, I’m afraid. But I’ll take a look to be sure.” Annie lifted the bench of the window seat and pulled out her grimoire. The book was ancient, bound in worn leather with pages so well used and discolored, they made a crinkly sound as the witch touched them. Annie settled into the corner of the seat and had thumbed through half a dozen pages before Zora joined her.
Annie’s features were backlit by moonglow, giving her an angelic, soft focused look. As she searched for whatever spell or talisman her ancient book held, Zora wondered what Annie had been like before.
Had she pursued Jade? What had Annie done for a living? How long had she and Jade been a couple before Annie was...”
“It’s nice to see you, Zora. What can I do for you?” Annie asked, grimoire closed and in her lap.
The witch’s eyes bounced from Zora to the book in her lap and in only moments, she’d pieced together what was happening based on context. “I’m sorry,” Annie said. “You’re here for an anti-mojo spell.”
Zora nodded.
“Sorry,” she muttered again and re-opened her grimoire. “It’s better when Jade’s around. She keeps me here,” she said, pointing to the ground for emphasis.
Zora wanted to tell her she never had to apologize. Annie had been through so much, and Zora never wanted her to feel self-conscious about any of the side-effects.
But as much as she tried, everything she came up with seemed inadequate and empty, so she remained silent.
Just like the words everyone had said to her the past three months. How sorry they were for her loss, what a wonderful, kind person Amari had been, and how it was such a terrible tragedy. Zora knew they were well-intentioned, but the words quickly became meaningless and numbing to her ears.
In the days after her partner's death, everyone she knew had brought food to her condo, put on their somber faces, and said pretty much the same things in the same way.
There came a point where a person could only take so much, and Zora refused to do the same to Annie.
Annie looked at Zora over the top of her grimoire, the question clear in her eyes, but only for half a breath before she’d put the pieces together again. “Anti-mojo spell. Got it. Sorry.” Annie put her nose back in the book.
Zora smiled at the witch with a broken memory and refused to feel sorry for her. Zora hated the weight of other’s pity.
“Ah!” Here it is! Annie flipped between two pages. “Oh, sorry,” Annie said.
“What do you mean? Won’t it work? You could change it somehow to make it work, right? I’m really struggling here, Annie.”
“I know. I’m sorry to get your hopes up but I got mixed up.” Annie looked at the floor, clearly embarrassed. “I just found a potion I’d been looking for a few days ago... the days run together for me. But honestly, I’ve been through the book backward and forward twice. There’s nothing in here to dampen your innate magic.” Annie took Zora’s hands in hers. “It’s a floodgate that’s been opened. Nothing I do could close it. You have to figure it out yourself.”
Zora wilted in the window seat, her angelic friend staring off into the darkness of the moonlight night.
“Thank you for trying,” she said to Annie, who pulled herself out of the reverie of the night and nodded. “I’m going to get going now. Tell Jade I said hi.”
“I will,” Annie promised.
Zora left the over-decorated cottage, got in her car and turned over the engine, but not before she caught a glimpse of Annie waving from the front bay window.
“She probably doesn’t know if I’m coming or going,” Zora said as she waved back at the broken woman.
As she backed out of the parking pad, Zora had the strangest sensation, like something tugging at her middle.
“Oh shit. Not this again.
5
Jane
The thing about working morning shifts in a coffee shop was that Jane had to start working while it was still dark out. Not just dark. Night. It was still night time to most, but Jane unlocked the shop and started all the morning preparation in the dead of night, with zero sleep.
The other thing about working in a coffee shop — it’s a coffee shop, so despite her lack of sleep, Jane was always well-caffeinated.
An ho
ur and a half later, after finishing all the prep work her most reliable barista walked in, and the first customers started trickling in. Most ordered no frills coffee and simple breakfasts items. The early risers never had super complicated orders. But around six to seven a.m., the frappuccinos and extra hots and the all around annoying customers started showing up.
“Hey, could I get a black coffee,” said remarkably nice voice. A mirage, a reprieve from the paragraph-long orders Jane had fielded for the past hour.
“Sure thing, that’s—”
“Oh my goddess, Jane is that you?!”
Jane looked up from her order screen, meeting the woman’s gaze for the first time.
Oh fuck.
“Olivia. How nice to see you, what are you doing in The Circle?” Jane said with false, barista cheeriness.
“Never mind about me! What’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you since...” the woman let the thought trail off.
“Since you kicked me out of the coven for dealing false prophecies.”
Olivia blushed and looked down, her vintage A-line dress bobbing as she did. “I wasn’t going to say that exactly.”
“Why not? It’s what happened. I conned the whole coven and you did what you thought was right. I don’t blame you for it.”
Olivia smiled, her eyes crinkling in the corner as she did. She flipped the hair at her shoulders, gave the pin-up style victory rolls a perfunctory smooth and continued. “Have you found a new coven? You were quite the talented green witch.”
“No, I’ve kinda been off the map for the last few years. I’ve gotten pretty rusty.”
“Well, that’ll never do. You must get your talents in order. You were very good, Jane. It’d be a shame if it all went to waste.”
Jane nodded. She wouldn’t share the atrocities of her past with this woman. Not today. And not in public.
Olivia leaned in a bit closer. Too close for Jane’s comfort. “There’s something very different about you. I can’t quite put my finger on it.” The witch’s eyes flashed from watery blue to cobalt as she accessed what she called her “second sight”
The Garrison (The Circle Series Book 3) Page 2
