by Kate Kelley
“I stay, Zuri,” a woman to her left said, a threat in her tone.
Zuri glanced at her. “Of course,” she murmured.
Lyra took a look at the other woman. She looked remarkably like Zuri, and Lyra concluded they must be sisters.
“Vale,” Frey said, inclining her head toward the other woman. Vale smiled, a true smile that reached her eyes. “My favorite troublemaker. Got any of that rum with you?”
“My time is limited, so please begin,” Zuri clipped out, lifting a goblet to her lips.
Freydis shifted on her feet before walking closer. Lyra and the rest followed, except Faun, who turned back to the dancing.
Freydis pulled her short hair, spiking it up as her eyes shifted across the decorations on the table. Lyra could sense her nervousness.
“Lyra here is, as you know, heir to the Fae throne,” Frey said finally, her gaze centering on Zuri. Lyra inwardly groaned.
Vale pinned Lyra with a stare, her dark eyes glinting with the strange green light of the mushrooms. “Yes, my dear cousin. How have you been?” she asked Lyra.
Lyra’s stomach dropped. “Um, I’m well. Thank you.” She was highly confused. She looked at Freydis for an explanation. She wasn’t sure how the woman in front of her could be her cousin.
“What are you doing taking the throne without Lyra’s official abdication?” Frey asked Zuri, jutting a hip out and crossing her arms.
Gods, diplomacy is clearly not her strong suit.
Zuri smiled tightly. “She’s half-Fae. She doesn’t count.”
Lyra swallowed, a tightening ball of shame and anger whirling in her gut. “How are we related?” Lyra asked before her courage ran out.
Zuri flicked her eyes to her. “Your mother’s sister was my mother. Clearly, we got our father’s coloring,” she said, gesturing toward Vale and herself.
So Vale and Zuri are sisters.
Freydis spoke up, all nervousness long gone. “And how did you get picked as Queen before Vale?”
Zuri snorted. “I was born first.”
Vale whipped her head toward her. “That’s highly debatable, sister.”
Twins. Interesting.
Lyra thought for a moment. “Wouldn’t your mother be next in line, not you?”
Zuri averted her gaze and sipped from her goblet. Vale’s eyes hooded dully. “She’s dead. Couldn’t handle childbirth. You know, children are rare for the Fae and twins even more rare.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Lyra muttered. She swallowed before adding, “I abdicate the throne, officially.” She glanced at Freydis whose jaw clenched.
Terrin sniffed but otherwise kept his eyes on Zuri, who smiled while Vale frowned into her goblet.
“Excellent. Now, help yourselves to all the food and wine you want. It was a pleasure meeting you.” Zuri rose but Freydis stopped her. “We’re not finished.”
Zuri pursed her lips. “Spit it out, then. For gods’ sake, woman. You aren’t even wanted back here as it is, why are you wasting my time?”
Frey sucked in a sharp breath, her hands clenching. “We have information that may be of interest to you.”
Lyra suddenly remembered the cakes she had made for them. She slid next to Terrin and opened the satchel still attached to him.
He shifted and held the flap open for her. “Why did you abdicate so quickly?” he murmured to her, his head leaning in close.
She felt around in the bag until her hand smoothed over glass. She lifted it up with both hands, then peered up at Terrin. “Because I don’t want the throne. You want me to live in Eclipsa?”
He glowered. “You could have used it as a bartering tool.”
Lyra frowned. She hadn’t thought of that. She turned back toward Zuri and Vale, presenting the jar of cakes. Zuri signaled she set it down on the table, and she did.
“Thank you, ” Zuri said blandly, “Now what’s the information?”
Lyra now felt embarrassed for the effort before a thought occurred to her. “I’m the Ursa heir as well,” Lyra blurted. Zuri flashed her eyes at her and Vale squinted.
“How?” Zuri clipped out.
“King Titus is dead and Navi isn’t a true heir. Lubena explained it to me. My great grandmother was married to King Theron and they had my grandmother but were banished from the castle when the people found out she they were Fae. I’m older than Navi by one year. Besides, she’s engaged to Prince Terrin of Gem. If she marries him, she’d give up her Queendom. Gem royalty must stay in Gem. When that happens, I’ll take the Ursa throne.”
She wouldn’t, but they didn’t need to know that.
Vale’s eyes widened and she glanced at her sister. Her hair wasn’t in locs, but braided and twisted atop her head. She wore a black gown that covered her arms. Aside from that, it was impossible to tell them apart.
“Ganymede is building an army of magical folk to take Gem,” Terrin explained. “In order to have a chance to beat him, we need to match his strength. We need magical folk on our side.”
Vale lifted a brow. “And what do we care about your little Gem Kingdom on a different plane that holds no meaning for us?”
Lyra simmered. “Because you want to be Queen, and that’s not going to happen for you here, is it?”
Vale’s jaw dropped before she clicked it shut and narrowed her eyes on Lyra. “How dare you, halfling.”
Lyra laughed. “Your insults don’t trouble me. Promise you’ll join our army and I’ll make you Queen of Ursa. Ganymede banished your kind here, remember that. This isn’t your true home. Ursa mages overthrew your kingdom when it was weakest. I’m giving you the chance to take back the original Fae kingdom.”
Vale clenched her jaw and swallowed. The twins looked at each other silently and something passed between them. An understanding. Vale stood and lifted her gown to step over the table, jumping down with bare feet to land in front of Lyra. Her smile swept her cheekbones to sharp angles and her teeth gleamed wickedly. “You’re a surprising one, cousin.”
“Do you agree?” Lyra held her breath.
Vale sucked her cheeks in the way same way Zuri had done. “Let’s see the pendant,” she said, as if on an afterthought.
Lyra blanched and her heart skipped a beat. Terrin tensed beside her. Freydis crossed her arms. Lyra knew if she didn’t, Vale wouldn’t accept. She reached inside her shirt and pulled it up and out, the gem dangling side to side from the movement.
Vale bowed her head to get closer, her eyes lit with excitement. She smoothed a thumb over the surface of the stone, as if measuring its quality. Visibly shivering, then pulled back, her eyes taking on a look full of hunger. “I accept. But I want the pendant when it’s over.”
No. Vehemence built inside of Lyra’s center and Vale laughed as if she knew what she was feeling despite Lyra’s aura shield.
“Good luck defeating Ganymede; we wish you well,” Zuri said, inclining her head. Lyra’s head spun. She clutched her pendant. She didn’t want to give it up. It had been passed down for centuries in her family. It belonged to her.
Something Terrin had once said echoed through her mind then. About making personal sacrifices for the greater good. Despair plunged her into its icy depths. She felt her lips move.
“Alright,” she said quietly.
Vale tilted her head, a glint in her eye. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“I said alright,” Lyra said, her voice cracking.
Vale smiled and opened her arms wide. “Congratulations. Now, come sit and drink with us. We’ll discuss the details.”
She led them near a bonfire, to groups of mushrooms formed in a circle, bouncing slightly on the velvety tops as they took their seats. Faun reappeared and took a hasty seat by Terrin, her soft red hair rippling prettily on one side of her face. Her coloring reminded Lyra of Navi. Maybe that’s why Lyra had an irrational dislike of her.
Zuri and Vale leaned in together, murmuring back and forth with quick glances at Lyra and Terrin. Lyra fidgeted under their int
ense looks. She turned away from them to face Terrin who sat on a mushroom to her right. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as she studied the fire.
“What do you think? Think we can trust them to follow through?” Lyra asked, watching the way the firelight played on his face. The music continued in lively tunes, distracting Lyra from the seriousness of their mission. Terrin didn’t look at her.
“You did what you had to do for the good of Gem. I must thank you,” he replied in even tones.
Lyra’s face heated. “You’re welcome.”
“Is Ursa a risk to your kingdom?” Vale asked Terrin, finally facing them.
Terrin sat up straight and crossed his legs at his ankles in a casual manner. “Not that I know of, but I can’t know for sure. I have taken great lengths to remain an ally to Ursa Kingdom, despite questionable dabblings on the Princess’s part.”
“What dabblings?” Zuri asked sharply.
“It’s possible she’s working for Ganymede, though we can’t know for sure. She had her lady’s maid spy on Lyra for information.”
“What did Ganymede want of Lyra?” Vale asked, eyebrow raised.
“Well, he needed me to open the portal, for one thing. He killed my entire maternal line starting with my great grandmother, and also killed my father. He wants me for something else too, but we don’t know what that is yet,” Lyra said matter of factly. Zuri and Vale watched her with assessing stares.
“If Ursa isn’t a threat to you, ask them for their army. That will leave us with less to contend with when we overthrow them,” Vale said, sipping her wine and smacking her lips.
Terrin cocked his head as if thinking about her plan. “If we take the portal straight to Ursa now, I could convince Navi. I’ve been communicating with her for a few weeks. She knows that if I ask for her army, she can’t refuse or she risks calling off the engagement, which in itself is an act of war. Either way, we will be fighting them. Once you overthrow their castle, we will need you to join us for the fight.”
“We promise not to mention your alliance with us,” Vale said promptly.
“I’m not sure Navi will see it as a coincidence,” Terrin said doubtfully.
“Why not? The portal is open. Any manner of creature could slip through and cause havoc for the humans. The Fae taking back their rightful kingdom isn’t so surprising,” Vale said shrugging.
“I suppose not,” Terrin admitted, brushing a thumb over his bottom lip. “How many men do you have?”
“And women,” Vale retorted impishly, “We have two thousand, give or take.”
Terrin’s eyebrows quirked up. “Two thousand willing to fight for a kingdom they know nothing about?”
Freydis smirked. “That’s what happens when you have a loyal people. And when you let women do things.”
Terrin inclined his head toward her. “When should we advance?” he asked Vale.
Vale was swaying to the music, her head hung back. “Stay the night. Celebrate with us. Tomorrow we’ll attack.”
Terrin sat up straight and glanced at Lyra. “I’m not sure--”
“Bah! You’re safe here, human and halfling. Have fun for once,” she said. Both her and her sister then pierced them with matching glares that told them they had better stay or feel their wrath. Zuri clapped her hands and a shirtless Fae man came to them at once with a platter of goblets. Terrin and Lyra each took one, exchanging cautious glances. Freydis shook her head and pulled out her flask and Faun already had a flute of bubbly spirits in hand. Lyra swirled her drink, sticking her nose in and inhaling the aroma. Tang of dark berries and smooth scent of vanilla. She took a sip, the surprisingly light flavor coating her tongue. When she looked up, Zuri and Vale were gone.
They must have jumped.
Lyra wished she could jump like a real Faerie. She could see where that power would come in handy. Instead she was half-Fae, half human, and none better for it. Lyra took a gulp of the berry wine and turned to Terrin, who drained his glass and picked up another off a nearby platter.
“Where are we to stay?” Lyra asked.
Terrin shrugged and drained his second glass before reaching for another. “Probably that tree house,” he replied. Faun stepped up behind him, twirling her a strand of red hair, her eyes taking him in with blatant adoration. She giggled before she even spoke. Lyra kept herself from rolling her eyes.
“So, you’re a Prince?” she asked him. Terrin looked at her then, his gaze steady over the rim of his goblet. He took a sip and trailed his eyes over her, starting from her head and ending at her feet. Faun flushed all over, from the tips of her pointy ears to the tops of her cleavage--even her arms turned pink under his gaze. Lyra would have laughed if she weren’t so annoyed.
Terrin smiled at her, flashing his teeth. “I am,” he said in a thick, rough cadence. Faun practically swooned.
Oh he’s laying it on thick tonight.
Lyra had seen enough and stood up to wander. She weaved through a mass of sweaty, romping Fae, jaunting her way through partners and friends and family and lovers, until she was on the other side of the mass of Fae near the edge of the forest. She leaned against a younger tree, watching them laugh and dance and tell stories with lighted eyes. Their auras were bright with excitement. Games were well underway, intense gambles causing packed crowds to form around the players crouched in the grass. Lyra smiled at them.
She wondered what it would have been like to live among them--to grow up as a real Fae. Maybe she wouldn’t be in any of this mess if she’d been allowed to live among them. But that never would have happened--before her death, her mother was one of the last Fae living on earth. She hadn’t the Fae to go back to; she really had no choice but to live among the humans.
Ganymede could have banished her here instead of killing her, but then he would’ve eventually drained her power anyway, using her as a familiar.
But maybe if her great grandmother hadn’t married King Theron….well, then she supposed she wouldn’t be here anyway, so what did it matter?
A surge of rage swam through her, heady and strong as it mixed with the wine she consumed. She felt it, hot and ready to release. If Ganymede showed up now, she wouldn’t be afraid. She’d try her hardest to kill the bastard.
Gods, how will we kill him? Someone with that much power…
A blip shook the air next to her and she struck out, her elbow connecting with a breastbone. The person who owned the breastbone wheezed and let out a strangled sound while Lyra rounded on them, aura ready.
“Fecking hell, lass!” A deep voice caused her pause. The man clutched his chest. His dark, choppy hair fell in front of one of his eyes. He was the Fae man who’d grinned at her earlier on their way in.
“Gods, I’m sorry,” Lyra grumbled. “Maybe don’t jump on unsuspecting women in places she’s not familiar with while we’re in the middle of a war.”
“Ah, hell, you’re right. I apologize,” he feigned sincerity by placing a hand on his heart, “I forget how weak human women are.” His accent was thick and it took Lyra a moment to understand his words. She rolled her eyes and contemplated the big tree house. It was tempting to go find a room, lock herself in, and go sleep.
“Is that why you’re talking to me?” she retorted, “Women of your own kind too strong for you?”
The man let his head fall back and he barked out a laugh. Lyra almost smiled in spite of herself.
“You’re funny. I guess you have that going for ye, even if your ears are odd little stumpy things.” He reached for her ear, his fingers brushing against her hair, but she dodged his touch.
He stopped, his eyes hooded in shadow.
His face was angular, his cheekbones sharp, his chin strong and pointed. He was shirtless, as were all the other Fae men there, and he had a lean, muscular build. He wasn’t a man Lyra would notice at first glance, but he was very handsome, she decided.
“But you’re half Fae, isn’t that right, lass?” he asked, quirking his head. His eyes trailed over he
r body and Lyra looked away.
“I am, but I have to warn you, if you’re looking for a wife I don’t think I’m up for the task. I’ve been engaged and bonded to two different men in the last three months, and neither relationship ended well.”
The man laughed again in the same manner, and this time Lyra felt her muscles ease and her lips curl upward.
He sobered and held out his hand, a twinkle in his eye. “You’re more than meets the eye. Come dance with me.”
Lyra’s eyes flicked to the dancers around the bonfires, their quick footwork and spins making her dizzy just from watching. “I’m not much of a dancer,” she muttered.
He came in close and grabbed her hand. “What’s your name?” he asked, his breath like cool wine on her skin.
She peered up at him and realized his eyes were golden. The color startled her for a moment, so pure, not unlike Frey’s. “I’m Lyra,” she said, suddenly shy.
He smiled, and two dimples marked his cheeks. She hadn’t noticed them before. “The Faerie dahmsa isn’t so bad, lass. It’s a few learned steps, and once you know them, you follow your partner’s lead and listen to the music. Simple as that.”
Lyra smiled coyly up at him. “Oh, that simple, is it? Listen, I’m not a great dancer in the human realm. I don’t go to balls or mingle with people who know how to dance. At least, not until recently, and not unless forced. I never properly learned because I’m not a lady. What makes you think I’ll be able to dance with you Fae?”
The man’s eyes glowed brighter. “Because you’re not a lady.”
He tugged on her hand until she relented and followed, and when they drew near the bonfire of sweaty, jouncing Fae, Lyra was already caught up in the melody of the music. She always was a sucker for good music. It was almost all drums, the beats reverberating in her chest and changing her heart beat. She swayed her hips, noticing with surprise that some of the Fae women were shirtless like the men, flower garlands the only adornment on their top halves, their hair flowing down their bare, backs and low skirts in every forest color sashaying with the undulating pulsations of the drum beats.
