The smell was deep, earthy, clean. It wasn’t as sweet as the scent from the Pole’s, but muskier. And beneath that was the yeasty smell of bread dough—again not as sweet as the smells of bread she was accustomed to. She felt as at home with these smells as with those at home.
Other fairies flitted around them. Where last time she couldn’t discern them from other flashes of light, this time they were very clear. She didn’t know whether it was because Trystin was enchanting her again, or because she was more relaxed about that side of her that she usually guarded so closely.
Each tree was a distinct looking home. The leaves, created from precious gems, moved lightly against one another, chiming softly but clearly enough to guide one to a specific tree. The patterns of the music played distinctly in her ears. Even if she hadn’t been looking, she would have known when they came to Trystin’s home. She remembered it from her last visit in spite of the fact that she hadn’t even recognized what the leaves were doing then—at least not consciously.
They passed Trystin’s tree, continuing deeper into the forest. Some of the fairies in their light form kept pace with them. Kara wondered if she should be alarmed. She wasn’t and wondered if Trystin had placed some kind of calming spell on her. Upon entering a clearing, Trystin alighted on a glistening patch of snow. Kara landed behind him, folding her wings.
“What do you know about fairies?” he asked.
Kara raised a brow at the abrupt question. “Not much, I suppose. I know they live in the forest, fly, can disappear into a little ball of light, and have larger, more pointed ears than elves.” Her eyes flicked to his pointed ears. “They hold some magic, though not as much as elves, and definitely not as much as the Big Guy.”
Trystin smiled indulgently. “It’s sad, really, how neglected your education has been, Kara.”
She frowned and stepped back. “Don’t be rude.”
He flitted over, landing next to her. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I don’t mean to be condescending. I’ve just never met anyone who knows so little about what they are and what they’re capable of.”
“Yeah? And how many half-elf, half-fairies have you met?” When he didn’t answer, her gaze sharpened on him. “Trystin?”
He looked at her for long moments as if deciding what to reveal. Finally, he said, “One.”
Kara’s eyes widened. “You’ve met . . . there’s another?” She glanced back toward the dense trees. “Here?”
Trystin shook his head. “No. Not here. And I’m not going to tell you where, either, no matter how many times you ask. Like you, he has a warped sense of needing to hide. His secret isn’t mine to tell.”
Kara’s mind turned to the elves she’d met since arriving in the north. Would she recognize a fellow Halfling? She tried hard—really hard—to hide what she was and came across as pretty normal, she thought. Until she’d been exposed in the South, she was perceived to be the same as everyone else. So if the one Trystin spoke of lived at the North Pole, she doubted she’d ever know who it was unless he were revealed as well.
“Is he . . . was he . . . raised by elves?”
Trystin blew out a breath. “No, he was raised by fairies. Not here,” he added when she opened her mouth to ask. “That’s all the information you’re getting from me, Kara.”
“Okay, fine,” she said. “I won’t ask. And I’m ready to be taught. How did you do that mind thing to me?”
Trystin laughed, the dulcet tones bringing a certain sapphire-eyed elf to mind. Sheesh, Seb even followed her here.
“It was much more than a simple ‘mind thing’,” Trystin said. “And it isn’t where we begin. We begin with a history lesson.”
Kara sighed. History had never been one of her favorite subjects when she was in school, although she admitted to liking it better than math. It would be just her luck that the mind trick would somehow turn out to be math related.
“Fairies have existed since the dawn of time,” Trystin said, settling down onto a log. He brought his long legs against his body, wrapping his muscular arms over his knees. Kara sat next to him, careful not to get too close. He studied her, his lips tugging up at the corners. “But they didn’t always have the ability to do the things they do now. Like transforming.”
Kara looked at some of the fairies who fluttered around them as dots of light. “How long have they been able to become . . .” She waved a hand indicating her body, “. . . like this?
“Always,” Trystin said. “We weren’t always able to shrink into balls of light like we can now. That was learned as a defense mechanism. Fairies aren’t exactly warriors. We’re peaceful, kind, loving. We also love to play and laugh and cause mischief—fun mischief. Fairies were targeted for their differences but didn’t know how to fight back, so instead we adapted.”
“How?” she breathed.
“A group of fairies sought out a warlock with powerful magic to learn how to control and expound on their weaker magic. It was risky—at that time, warlocks and fairies were mortal enemies. However, this warlock took pity on them because of the amount of persecution they were under and taught them. Not everything, which is why we still have less magic than other creatures, but enough to learn defense.”
“And you’re saying I have this ability?”
“Of course. Combined with your elven magic, you have far more power than any of us here. You just haven’t been taught how to use it.”
She looked around her again at the other fairies. “When I came here before, they just looked like light, and blended in with the leaves. Now, I can tell each of them apart. I can see . . . features, I guess. None of them look alike at all.”
“Fairy sight.”
“What?”
“You are recognizing your fairy sight. You probably don’t realize that everything you see is different than what others see—brighter, clearer. Because you’ve always had it so there wasn’t a reason to question it.”
“But last time I was here . . .”
“Last time I suppressed your magic. That’s why you couldn’t leave when you wanted, and why you couldn’t see us.”
“I saw you,” she said.
“Yes, but only in this form once we entered the forest. You saw me in my other form, outside the forest, before your panic had completely set in.”
“So you used magic on me.” It sounded accusatory, and Kara supposed it was. She didn’t like being manipulated.
“I did.” He shrugged, not sounding apologetic at all. “I was surprised I could. It’s how I knew you weren’t aware of what you can do. If you were, my magic wouldn’t have worked on you. As it was, it was difficult. Like I said, your elven magic makes you more powerful than me.”
“How do I change my form?”
Trystin rose and pulled her up from the log to stand in front of him. “You have to harness your magic. Close your eyes and look deep within. Feel it. Let it flow.”
Feeling foolish, Kara did as he said. She couldn’t sense anything different. She was about to peek when something shifted inside her. Curious, she kept her eyes closed and tried to discover what it was. Something there, in the middle of her stomach, warm and swirling. Something she had felt a time or two before but attributed to too many sweets. Concentrating, she knew it hadn’t been that at all. It was . . . different. Not quite right, and yet completely right.
The energy grew as she focused on it, growing larger, until it encompassed her entire being and it was as though she were surrounded by light. Thinking the other fairies had come closer, she opened her eyes. They hadn’t, and yet the light was nearly blinding. She swung toward Trystin, who was beaming at her.
“You did it!” he said, punching a fist in the air.
“I did?” Her voice wasn’t normal, it sounded small and high pitched. She glanced down and saw her feet were high above the ground. Her wings flapped behind her, holding her suspended at eye level with Trystin. “I’m small?”
“You look like a firefly—to anyone who doesn’t have fairy sight
, that is.”
Kara grinned. “How do I get back to normal?”
“Same way.”
Kara closed her eyes, feeling for the swirling warmth. When she found it she imagined it in reverse. The sensation of being flooded in light dissipated and when she opened her eyes, she was still flying but was back to her normal size. She laughed in exultation, trying the trick a few more times.
Finally, she asked, “What’s next?”
“That’s it for today,” Trystin said. “The day is gone.”
Kara looked up even though she couldn’t see the sky through the trees.
“Come back next week,” he said with a wink. “I’ll teach you the mind thing.”
Chapter Eleven
“I came by your place the other day,” Seb said on Monday as he bit into a sweet tomato sandwich. Kara glanced up at him. He glared at his food. “I waited for a while but you never came. You weren’t with Pearl.”
“No,” she confirmed. “I haven’t seen her since Friday.”
“Were you . . . with someone else?”
Kara tilted her head. She knew she had to be way off when she thought she heard jealousy in his voice. Or was it guilt? Had he followed her? Panic lit up her stomach and she set her own raspberry honey sandwich down.
“I was with Trystin.” She figured if he’d followed, he would know that. Would he have seen her wings?
“Mm,” he grumbled.
Not sure what he meant by the sound, she asked, “Is that okay?”
His eyes flicked to her for the first time since he’d began questioning her. He held her gaze, and as usual she felt herself drowning in the sapphire depths. This was getting ridiculous. Surely by now she should be used to his beauty—seriously.
“Of course.” He almost sounded relieved, but still there was an edge in his voice. “I just . . . it’s not usual for you to wander off on your own.”
“And how would you know what’s normal for me? How often have you seen me outside of work?”
He dropped his chin, causing a lock of black hair to fall across his forehead. She was tempted to reach up and brush it back, and had to clench her fingers into a fist to restrain herself. Ridiculous!
“Not often,” he conceded.
An uncomfortable silence reigned until Kara asked, “Why?”
His eyes came back to her. “Why what?”
“Why did you come by?”
“Oh, um . . .” He cleared his throat, shuffled his feet. Kara’s brows drew together in confusion. If there was one thing Seb wasn’t, it was unsure of himself. “I just thought, maybe, you know, we could go get a pizza or something.”
Kara’s brows shot upward. “A pizza? Together? I thought we weren’t, you know . . .” she dropped her eyes now. “That we had no plan to get . . . involved.”
“Oh, it’s not that,” Seb hastened to explain. “I thought we could go, as friends.”
“Are we?” Kara asked, meeting his gaze. “Friends, I mean?”
“Well, yeah, I . . . aren’t we?”
Kara was surprised her smile didn’t consume her right then. “I like to think so.”
Seb seemed riveted by her. “You should do that more often.” He waved a hand in her general direction.
Kara frowned. “Do what?”
“Smile.”
Kara laughed. “Like you have room to talk. You’re a big grump.”
“A grump?” His eyes widened. “You think I’m a grump?”
Kara grinned. “Yeah, I do.”
He opened his mouth as if to argue, but then closed it and shook his head. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. Sheesh, even a tiny smile was enough to send her heart skittering. “Sorry,” he said. “I know I’m a little private.”
“A little?” she scoffed.
He shrugged. “A lot. But I have my reasons.”
“Like what?”
He popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth and chewed before answering. “We all have secrets, right?”
Kara couldn’t argue with that. She turned her attention to her napkin which she twisted in her hands. “Not most elves. Most elves are an open book.”
“Are you?” he asked.
She stopped twisting the napkin and dropped it on his plate, which she then stacked with hers and placed back on the tray. She shrugged. “I’m as open as you are.”
Seb grinned openly at that and Kara allowed herself three guilty seconds of melting at the sight before she turned away.
“So what did you do with Trystin?” And the edge was back in his tone.
“Nothing. We just talked.”
“About what?” he persisted.
“About you, mostly,” she said. His mouth dropped open and she laughed. “Really, Seb? You’re not the center of my world, you know. We just talked about stuff, nothing specific.”
He studied her then nodded once. “You’re one of the few I have, you know.”
Kara felt like this whole conversation was all about catching up, as if Seb was constantly one step ahead of her. Maybe she needed more caffeine . . . or less sugar. She was slow today.
“One of the few what?” she asked cautiously, not sure she really wanted to know.
“Friends.” As he said the word, a look came into his eyes, one she couldn’t really name exactly, but which looked suspiciously like vulnerability. Then the shutters dropped and he was simply looking at her with his gorgeous blue eyes.
After a moment she nodded. “Good, I’m glad,” she said. “You’re one of the few friends I have as well.”
His mouth tightened into an almost-smile and he nodded as if satisfied. “Well, let’s get back to work then.”
And . . . fun conversation over. Kara sighed. She had a feeling this could be an exhausting friendship.
Seb and Kara made their way across the hard snow toward the engineering building. Like all the buildings in the North Pole, it was painted a bright color—sunshine yellow in this case—with lots of minute details. However, this particular building was different in that it was not a traditionally shaped building, but rather spiral, rising from the ground in ever increasing size. At the top floor, a rotating platform gave the elves who worked there a view of the entire village.
Seb and Kara entered the building, stepping on the elf mover that took them up the spiral. Many times elves walked up the spiral as it moved, but with an unspoken agreement Seb and Kara stood in place and let the building do the work, enjoying the scenery. It wasn’t often either of them had occasion to come into this particular place.
Once the mover reached the top, they stepped off, and peered at the directory. “Here,” Seb pointed, spying the name of their engineer and heading down a long hall. Kara followed him until they reached a door marked “Bayorn”. Kara felt a little nauseous from the spinning building and was grateful she didn’t have to work here on a regular basis.
Bayorn was a surprisingly young elf, probably not much older that Kara or Seb. He had dark blue hair with dusky red eyes, a striking combination. He smiled openly at Seb, his smile growing interested when Seb introduced him to Kara.
“Ah, the lovely Kara I’ve heard so much about.”
Words that struck fear into Kara more than intrigue. She swallowed, keeping a smile pasted on her face. “What have you heard?” she asked.
“You seem to be quite the mysterious new transplant from the South,” Bayorn said. Leaning toward her, his voice lowered. “Many of the young males are smitten with you. I can see why. It’s rare to see the combination of amethyst in one’s hair and eyes both. You’re an arresting beauty.”
Kara blushed, and Seb cleared his throat. “Not that I don’t appreciate the rundown of my partner’s charms,” he said tightly, “but we are on limited time and need to go over these plans with you, Bayorn.”
“Call me Bay.” His eyes never left Kara. She shifted uncomfortably beneath his scrutiny, hyper-aware of her wings folded against her back. “Come in lovely Kara, and bring your jealous partner with you.
”
Bay stood back from the doorway to allow them entry, and Kara dared risk a peek at Seb. His face was thunderous with narrowed eyes and clenched jaw. She grinned. She didn’t like Bay’s flirting, but she enjoyed seeing Seb out of his element.
“I’m not jeal—” he gritted to her as she swept past, ignoring him. She heard him say only slightly more clearly and with the tiniest bit less menace to Bay, “I’m not jealous.”
“Okay,” Bay conceded, his voice indicating his disbelief.
Bay’s office overlooked the village, which moved slowly past as they continued to rotate. A tray of pastries and another of tea sat on the table in the center of three overstuffed couches covered in snow-white fur. Kara sat on one, and almost laughed when Seb quickly moved to sit next to her. He didn’t need to; there were enough couches for them all. But clearly he didn’t want Bay to have the ability to share a couch with her. In spite of enjoying his strange discomfiture, she was grateful. The further she could keep people away from her who took an actual interest in her the better.
After they each took a pastry and a cup of tea, Bay moved the tray onto a nearby counter to make room for Seb to spread the plans across the table. The handsome elf flipped silently between the pages as she and Seb ate. Kara bit into the flaky, creamy concoction and lost all resolve to try to lower her sugar intake to prevent being so slow when conversing with Seb.
Finally Bay raised his gaze to them—or rather, to her. Excitement lit his red eyes, changing them from garnet to ruby. “This is fantastic. It’s a brilliant concept. Did you come up with this?”
Kara glanced at Seb. “Well, not alone. We both came up with it.”
“Brilliant,” he repeated, keeping his gaze fastened on her.
“Will it work?” Seb asked gruffly. He leaned forward, trying to draw Bay’s attention.
Bay reluctantly dragged his eyes from Kara, and she felt relieved. “I think so,” he said. “For the most part anyway. There are a few things we’ll have to tweak a bit to make it completely stable, but I think this building might even be grander than the one we sit in. Imagine it: my first building will be the best one around!” His eyes drifted back to Kara and Seb muttered something.
A Fantasy Christmas Page 7
