by Marie Hall
Galeta’s smile was nothing but teeth, “why the sun of course.” June’s eyes were wide and guileless, and Galeta wanted to laugh because it seemed that Calanthe had shared nothing of what she’d actually been doing with her friend. “Tsk, tsk,” she shook her head, “did you not know, June?”
“Know what?”
“The man who Calanthe was with was none other than the Man in the Moon.”
In a rare show of bravery June shook her head. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Siria of course,” she laughed again, Galeta couldn’t remember having this much fun in quite some time, “Siria is the sun and her hold on the moon is absolute.”
Snatching her cloak off the hook on her wall, Galeta slipped it about her shoulders. A rim of frost spread outwards from her feet on the wooden plank floor. The cloak was infused with the essence of winter, the power of The Blue lay in controlling the frost, the snow, blizzards, ice… And that power only came from the sun. Calanthe had messed with something she should never have messed with, to anger the sun was to disrupt the very fabric of their existence. Should Siria discover this treachery on her own, she would blight their glen, sending no rain, no water, in short all that they knew and loved would die. Yes, this was a treachery none could deny punishment for.
“You’re coming with me, June.”
Holding her hands up, June looked at Galeta with fear in her wide eyes. “Where, mistress?” And even as she asked it, she took a tentative step back.
“To Siria.”
And with that, and a flick of her wrist, the two sailed toward the sun to plead their case.
~*~
Being anywhere close to Siria, especially during the zenith of day, was not only blinding, but very nearly painful. The fairies had had to cloak themselves in shadow so thick that the light could barely break through. Even so, Galeta was wincing when she looked up.
All she could see of the sun was a faint golden silhouette.
“Sit,” Siria commanded with the authority of one unused to being ignored.
June was visibly trembling where they hovered above the castle parapets. The snail fairy was biting onto her lower lip so hard that soon she’d draw blood if she wasn’t careful.
Yanking June to her side, Galeta hissed in her ear. “You will do as I say, answer only when spoken to, and stop this childish trembling.” She sniffed.
June barely managed a nod. Still hanging onto her hand, Galeta led them toward a white tea table loaded with finger sandwiches and pitchers of tea.
Siria was already sitting, staring at them patiently.
Calling forth her magic, Galeta transformed the two of them from miniature to human size and pointed at the seat opposite hers for June to take.
“Sit down,” she ordered to the shell-shocked snail.
Siria’s smile was broad, effortless. She’d dimmed most of her glow so that now they could make out her features.
She was as lovely as every sonnet had ever mentioned her being. Long tendrils of golden hair tumbled over one shoulder. A gown of reddish-gold flame licked at the contours of her body.
Galeta couldn’t deny the slimy slinking of jealousy that twisted her insides up, or the curiosity that the Man in the Moon would choose to lay with such an ugly fairy over one so obviously above her in perfection.
“Sun,” she greeted coolly, “it is always so wonderful to visit.”
That was a lie, Galeta detested being closer to the sun than she need be. A fairy’s power was strong, Galeta’s stronger than them all, but their power paled in comparison to the strength of the radiant star.
“Odd,” her dulcet voice prickled the head mistress’ flesh, “but you’ve never visited before. To what do I owe this honor?” she asked, flicking her fingers at the table as if to say, ‘serve yourself’.
Taking a cucumber and cream cheese sandwich from off the tray, Galeta first nibbled on it before saying, “not that I haven’t wanted to, sun dear, but my duties as mistress often keeps me from pleasure.”
A knowing look crossed the sun’s face, but she said nothing to that, only glanced at the snail before looking back at Galeta. Making sure her cloak of shadow shielded every inch of her, because she was certain that what she was about to relate might make the sun suddenly forget the presence of two frail fairies, she smiled.
“I come with a matter of the gravest sort.”
Narrowing clear amber eyes, Siria nodded. “Go on.”
June started shaking even harder. A distraction that set Galeta’s teeth on edge. Kicking her shin hard enough to make the snail sit up and shout “Ouch”, Galeta lifted a brow and nodded.
“We’ve news of the Moon.”
Siria went absolutely still and Galeta had the terrible sensation that the calm was merely a façade that hid the fury behind it. Few knew, or were old enough to remember, the love affair Siria and Jericho had once shared. Not only did Galeta know, but she also knew that Siria’s strange attachment to the man bordered on obsession.
“What of him?” Her voice was cold and cutting, lacking the warmth of earlier. “I heard he traveled to your glen last month, and that he… vanished,” she laughed with a sound that lacked mirth, “at some point. I hope he did not cause you trouble.”
Turning to June, Galeta quirked her brow. Let the snail deal with the sun’s wrath.
Realizing she’d been cued, June jerked in her seat. She’d not deigned to touch any of the food or drink, her hands fiddled on her lap.
“He…”
She swallowed hard, and if Galeta was capable of feeling sympathy she might have given a damn, but she did not. The snail had hidden Calanthe’s escapades, making her at the very least an accomplice in the filthy matter.
“Oh, spit it out!” Galeta sneered, at her breaking point with the nervous fairy.
“He and Calanthe had a tryst,” June whispered miserably, hanging her head so low her jaw scraped her chest.
And just as Galeta suspected, the veneer of Siria’s patience melted in the heat of her anger. Fire erupted from her pores, turning her into a living pillar of flame.
“Tryst?” she shrieked, rocking the very foundation beneath their feet.
Few things bothered The Blue, but she must admit that this was one of them. Poor June hadn’t cloaked herself in near enough shadow in time, her pale skin turned an immediate shade of blistering red.
Whimpering, she tugged at the shadow so tight that she was little more than a barely visible blur within the darkness.
Swallowing a bite of the sandwich which now tasted of sand, Galeta waited until the fire of Siria’s flame had exhausted itself.
After what felt like hours, the sun took a deep breath. “I knew he’d done something, but he’s always so secretive. My crows saw him disappear, I knew it, that worthless, vile…” She bit her tongue and Galeta knew she wasn’t actually talking to them.
Finally Siria turned a gimlet eye on her. “I want the fairy’s head.”
Grabbing a scone, and spreading honeyed butter onto it, gave Galeta time to think of her reply. As much as she might wish to give Calanthe over to Siria, it wasn’t within her power to grant. To do such a thing would force The Ten to strip her of her title. No, but there were other ways to exact revenge.
“I cannot kill her, nor can you.”
Siria hissed. “Do not tell me what I can and cannot do. Either give me the fairy, or I shall curse your land.” The sun’s laughter was biting. “But you knew that, didn’t you? I’ve heard all about you, Blue, the way you covet power. How you stomp your enemies beneath your slippered foot.” She snorted. “What has this fairy done to you to expose her in such a way?”
Calanthe was reckless and wild, but more than that, Calanthe had power. And she didn’t mean in the physical sense only, fairies fell under the roses spell, that June had broken faith with her was a rarity. Part of the reason why Galeta had never been able to punish Calanthe as she so richly deserved was that none would ever speak out against her. Becau
se what Galeta saw as reckless, they saw as endearing. What others saw as naïve, Galeta understood to be ruthless cunning masked as something more benevolent.
Since her birth, Calanthe had lulled hundreds under her spell. Why even the Moon itself had fallen prey to her charms. It was time for the child to learn a lesson and that was that in this life there were consequences to ones actions.
June moaned.
“The reasons are my own. Whether she deserves it, you know that she does. A fairy is never to know a man, it is treason. The mere fact that she knew your man,” she let that word dangle for a bit, just to drive her point home, “is unpardonable.”
Siria’s nostrils flared as her fingers dug into the table. Clearly Galeta had hit a nerve, she swallowed the smile that threatened to expose her giddiness.
“That she does,” Siria nodded. “And that one,” she glanced at June from the corner of her eye, “can she be trusted?”
The ball of shadow tucked further into itself.
“She doesn’t have a choice,” Galeta finally let loose the smile, “do you, June? Speak of this, and I swear I shall strip your wings.”
And that was a threat the wee fairy knew Galeta would keep, it was a punishment she’d happily meted out many times before.
“I’ll keep my mouth shut, ma’am.”
“And The Ten?” Siria quirked a blond brow. “Won’t they need to vote on her punishment?”
It didn’t surprise Galeta that Siria knew so much of her world, or the power structure behind it. The sun knew all.
“They’ll learn all… in due time.” She smirked. “Better to ask forgiveness later than permission first.”
“You said you would not harm her,” June finally found her spine, speaking up forcefully for the first time since arriving here.
“No,” Galeta shook her head, “if you recall I never agreed to that, you heard what you wanted to hear, June, and should I hear that you’ve warned her, well…” she stared at her dagger-like claws, “you should not enjoy the outcome.”
Siria’s smile spread like sun-warmed honey. “Jericho’s confinement ends in two weeks. I suspect he shall try to return to her. This then is what we shall do…”
And after they’d made their plans and Galeta and June flew back to their glen, The Blue laughed because the plan was so positively devilish that it put many of Galeta’s initial ideas to shame. Scorning the sun had been a very, very bad idea.
The flower fairy would never know what hit her.
And after tomorrow, no fairy would ever dare to compromise Galeta’s rules again.
Chapter 7
“Bloody hell,” Genevieve squeaked and then jerked when she realized what had flown out of her mouth around the children. “I mean,” she clamped a hand over her lips and Danika merely shook her head with amusement.
The children’s mouths were agog, but not at Genevieve, rather at the scene depicted before them. And once the scene disappeared they began peering around their shoulders with watchful, fearful eyes, as if speaking of The Blue in such an ugly manner might manifest the mistress shrew herself.
Danika laughed. “Do not worry children, The Blue cannot harm you here. I’m simply relaying a story, a true tale that she cannot deny as there are many witnesses still alive to attest to its veracity.”
“But June,” the primrose wailed, “how could she do that to Calanthe?”
Sighing loudly, Danika tossed up her hands. “I’ve thought long and hard on that question for ages, at first it used to make me very angry. That a love so pure, so true was besmirched as it was. Because by the time June blabbed about it the two had known they could never meet up again, so why tell?”
She looked at her rapt audience, but rather than answer all eyes stay glued to her face. Danika smiled softly.
“I suppose she told because she felt like she had no other recourse. In the end, as much as I wish it wasn’t so, Calanthe had broken fairy law.”
The tiger lily’s jaw jutted out. “But how can falling in love be a crime?”
“A question I’m sure Calanthe asked herself many times,” Danika sighed. “I’m sure if Calanthe were here she’d say it wasn’t June’s fault after all.”
“But that was her friend, and she betrayed her trust,” a bell-like voice she hadn’t heard before piped up from somewhere in the back.
“Yes, she sort of did. But think for a moment. How many times did Calanthe put her into a terrible predicament? And how often did June beg her to stop? And how many times did Calanthe listen to her? Hmm?”
The children’s eyes were still angry, some of them even shone with gathering moisture. Danika hadn’t meant to make them cry. The purpose of this tale was to keep it alive in the hearts of the new generation. That perhaps they could learn from this sad tale and never repeat it in their own lives, that the pain of one might prevent the pain of another. But she wasn’t so sure the children were gleaning that truth from the tale.
“The truth is children, as much as I feel for Calanthe, what she did was reckless and foolish.”
“Now you sound like Galeta,” Genevieve hissed the accusal.
“Heaven forbid,” Danika rolled her eyes theatrically. “Though I hate the cow with a thousand loathings,” she shuddered, “in a way, she was right. Calanthe thought only of herself, she never took into account how her deception hurt her friend. Because the fact was June was honor bound to tell, it wasn’t her fault.”
“But surely it made the betrayal more painful?” The primrose asked.
“I am sure that it did. If there’d been anyone who would betray Calanthe, I’m sure she never thought it would be her friend.”
“So what happened then?” The tiger lily prompted. “To Calanthe and to June and Jericho?”
This was the part of the tale Danika always dreaded the telling of. It was so pointless, so awful what Galeta had done that it never failed to bring tears to Danika’s eyes.
Voice wavering with clogged tears, Danika sniffed, taking a moment to gather herself.
“Calanthe lost everything…”
~*~
The next month was brutal. Harder than even the first. Worst of it was, Jericho was fairly certain Siria had no idea what he’d done.
Yes, he’d told Calanthe he wouldn’t come back for her, but that was before, when he thought they’d been caught. When the murder of crows had tailed his every move and made him know it was over.
But each day Siria came to him, and each day she was all smiles and more pleasant than she had been in ages.
In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time they’d gotten along so well. But tonight he was free, and the moment he could, he would return to Calanthe’s side. Somehow, someway, they would have to make it work.
To think last month that he could simply have her, and put her away. Never touch her again, look upon her face as the passion inched across it had been utter madness.
He was lost for his fairy and the temptation was simply too great.
Already he’d showered and shaved and dressed in whatever clothing he could grab. He wasn’t altogether certain it matched, black trousers and his red button shirt, it made him appear as if he meant to visit the Red Queen’s court, but no matter. Calanthe would understand he was in a rush to get to her and nothing else mattered at the moment.
Standing on the balustrade he counted down the seconds as the weakening rays of sunlight gave way to the gathering tendrils of darkness.
“Jericho,” Siria’s dulcet voice caressed his back.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. He’d come this far, he couldn’t afford to show his panic or his need to get back to Calanthe as soon as possible. Expelling a sigh, he twirled on his heel. “Siria. It is good to see you.”
A delicate blade of a brow lifted. “Is it?” Humor laced her words.
Cocking his head because he’d not seen this teasing side of her for some time, his smile was hesitant. Just a ghostly stretch of lips. “It is tonight,” he admitted freely. For
the past fortnight their relationship had grown civil, almost to the point where he could begin to move on and let go of the past.
Her words weren’t so sharp or bitter. There were no threats veiled behind sugary words.
Feeling a need to convey his sense of relief over it, he strode to her side and clapped a hand on her bare shoulder.
She was dressed as provocatively as any other night. Tonight her hair was her gown and it billowed in golden, shimmering waves down the length of her, the ends of it scraped her ankles.
But unlike other times when she used her allure to try and beguile him, tonight she seemed thoughtful, maybe even a little distracted as she kept staring over his shoulder.
“Siria, I tell you the truth. I am relieved that we can finally be friends. The strain of our relationship these past years has always weighed heavily on my conscious.”
Amber eyes flicked to his. “Mine as well, Jericho.” She sighed and a gentle breeze lifted the scent of sun soaked honey and tea off her body. Steely determination glinted back at him. “Come to have tea with me tonight. Please, Jericho.”
Every month she asked and every month he’d always said no. But if she was putting forth the effort, shouldn’t he at least do the same? For the next three hundred years she was the only day in and day out companion he would know. Was it possible that they could finally lay their feud to rest?
The more he thought on it, the more the idea held merit. If they could just talk, without all the nonsense of past hurts laying between them, then perhaps he could eventually come around to telling her of Calanthe.
Of course Calanthe had her own problems in their relationship, but one bridge at a time.
Twisting his lips, he glanced over his shoulder. For the possibility of a future with his fairy, he could spare an hour.
Lifting his hand, he held it out for her. “Come then, let us tea.”
Her smile was as radiant as her suddenly glowing body. But on this night, the sun held no sway over him. His glow also manifested, together they were the yin and yang of the cosmos and for this night, they both held court.
In no time they’d entered her half of the castle.
