by Kailin Gow
My face was shining with tears; her face was wet against mine as she embraced me.
“I don't know where my place is.”
“What?” Logan's voice broke the silence. “So – you're not coming home, Breena?” I could hear the pain in his voice.
My mother continued. “I want you to know your father.” She took my hand and placed it in Frank's. “I want you to love your father. I want you to know that he loves you – that he has always loved you – as much as I loved you.”
“You mean that?” I turned to Frank, and in the pain on his face I could see that my outburst had affected him strongly.
“I do,” he said. “But – I understand, Breena, if you do not wish to be my daughter right away. It has been a long time, after all.” He smiled, weakly. “But will you settle for ‘friend’ for now?”
I considered, then gave a brief nod.
“I want to stay,” I said.
“I understand,” said my father. “But please forgive me – although I know in my heart that your mother has made the right, the bravest decision, that she could make – if I do not accept it without bitterness, without pain. I will say this to you, Breena. Your mother is one of the strongest women I know. And she has made the decision that I would have alas have been unable to make.”
My mother's lips began to tremble.
“Do you guys...want a second?” I asked, lamely.
My mother shot me a grateful smile.
“Come on, Logan,” I said. “Let's take a walk.” I turned to the Winter Knights. “Could I ask you all to scout the path ahead?”
Looking somewhat grateful to be extricated from the awkwardness of the situation, the Winter Knights gladly left us alone – two couples, saying goodbye.
I took Logan down the path to a nearby clearing.
“I guess this is goodbye for us, too,” I said.
Logan shuffled in the dirt. “Bree...”
“I'll always care for you very much, Logan.” I began. “And I'll always love you, but...” Not like that, I wanted to say.
He cut me off, his mouth spreading into a smile I could not bear to wipe off his face. “You love me?”
“Logan, please...”
“I can visit you all the time, if that's what you want.” He gathered me into his arms. “It's easy for Wolves, you know. We go back and forth! I can take messages between you and your mother. You can visit your mother! You can visit me!”
“Logan, please!”
I pushed him away – just hard enough to break his concentration. He sighed and smiled up at me. “You know, Breena,” he said. “I've always loved you.”
I didn't want to hear this.
“Since you – since we – were little – the first time we met. You were in the woods, crying – like a little fairy child, even then. Some girls had been picking on you. Saying you looked funny – because you looked like a fairy. Purple eyes, porcelain skin. An unearthly glow that doesn't look like it belongs on the Clarisses of this world. Yeah, it's true – you were funny looking. You were different-looking. And you know why, Bree?”
“Why?” My heart began to break for him.
“Because you were prettier than all of them.”
“Logan...”
“I'll come back and forth all the time – to visit you. To keep watch on you – and on your mother. And I guess I'll have to fight off Clariss' advances on my own. I'll tell them I've got my eyes on someone else – somewhere far away.”
He leaned in to kiss me. I wanted his arms around me – I wanted his friendly embrace. But I knew I didn't want this. I moved my head, just slightly, and his kiss landed on my cheek instead.
“Bree...”
He understood at last.
I took his hand and squeezed it. Like my mother, I thought, I had to make the hard decisions sometimes. And I didn't want to hurt Logan any more than I had to. I wanted him to move on, to find another girl to love in the way I loved Kian. What we had was special – it would always be ours – but it was different. It wasn't romantic. It was deeper than that.
“I will always love you, Logan,” I said again. “You will always be my best friend.”
“Friend.” said Logan.
“Yes.”
He withdrew. “I understand,” he said.
I reached out, hugging him tightly.
“Goodbye, Logan,” I said. “I want us to meet again – and often.”
“As friends,” he said bitterly.
“As best friends,” I said.
Between the trees in the clearing, I could see my mother and my father sharing one last, final, embrace. I knew what they had would never make them happy – nevertheless, in the strength and power of that one kiss, I knew that I would rather experience decades of that unhappiness than give up on finding the true love I wanted, the love that I saw in Kian's eyes when we danced...
“This isn't just a brush-off, then,” said Logan, with self-deprecating laughter.
“Never,” I said. “I'll be back all the time – or you will. We can cook together in the Fairy kitchens.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
At last he hugged me back.
“It'll take some time,” he said. “Before things stop being awkward.”
“I know,” I said. “But I'm willing to wait.”
We hugged one last time and then joined my mother and father, who were looking at each other with the full measure of years of love.
It was time to set off with my father. It was time to set off towards a new life. I smiled at my father, giving my mother a hug filled with love and pain. I would miss her, I knew, although I knew I would see her again. I was ready.
Chapter 17
“All set, then?” my father asked me. He put a gruff hand on my shoulder – moving slowly and awkwardly, as if he was not quite sure of himself. I knew now that he was feeling as uncomfortable as I was – he was as confused as I was about how to act, how to behave around me. Somehow the knowledge made me feel a little bit better. I wasn't the only one who wasn't sure just what to feel. We mounted our horses and began to ride off, this time not towards the Crystal River but rather towards the Summer Court and the palace of the Summer Queen.
“I'm all set,” I said softly. Even so, I couldn't help but turn my neck around to see what my mother and Logan were doing, to see one last glimpse of them before I traveled with my father into a life as new and as strange as anything I could have imagined. They were standing there, looking at me, waving slowly. I knew that they would keep their eyes upon me until my father and I both disappeared into the horizon. The knowledge made me feel safe, made me feel warm. I was loved, I tried to remind myself.
“Do...” my voice trailed off. “Do you think it will be a long time before I see them again?” I tried not to betray my worry. I wanted my father to think I was brave.
“Maybe,” said my father. “And maybe not. But either way – you will know that they love you. And you will know that – if you need them, if you call for them – they will be there. It will be your choice, Breena.”
“Is it difficult – going back and forth?”
“Wolves do it easily. For fairies it is more complicated. It requires a form of magic not natural to us. But I don't think that is the real reason.”
“What is the real reason?”
“Feyland is a strange place. It has a hold on us – on all of us. We fight wars over it. We make it our home. We write poems and songs about it. And leaving – psychologically – it is hard.”
“But you left,” I said, “when you went to go meet my mother.”
“Yes, I did,” said my father. “I had a dream, you see. A dream of adventure. I wanted to see what lay beyond the Crystal River.”
“And what lay beyond the Crystal River?”
“Your mother,” he smiled. “And your mother...she made all the treasures of Feyland look like pebbles and dust in comparison with her. With her beauty – her goodness – her strength. You k
now – I have been watching over you, Bree. As best as I can. I go in disguise among my own kingdom – but I also went to yours. I didn't want you to see me. I didn't want you to know me. I would glamour as a man in a cafe, as a local police officer, as another child in your school. But I would go to watch you – just to make sure you were all right. To make sure you were happy.”
“You did?” I felt my heart beat faster at the news.
“Of course!” cried my father. “You may not have been my legitimate child in the eyes of the gossips at the court – but you were always, always, mind you, my daughter.”
The horses continued onwards.
“Tell me,” I said to my father. “Tell me about the Summer Court. What it was like. What it is like.”
My father laughed. “The magic of Summer,” he said, “is unlike anything else. Imagine life, fertility, laughter, joy, ripening fruits and the smell of fresh bread baking in the morning. That is Summer magic. We are a joyful people, zestful, full of life.” His smile faded a bit. “At least, we were. Before the war. Now...now, the situation is more complicated, Breena.”
“I see,” I looked down.
“Originally, we were known for fertility magic. As you might imagine.”
“I suppose.”
“But when love and – yes, Breena, sex – became seen as taboo in our kingdom, in the aftermath of many wars and many troubles before the time of my grandfather – then suddenly our magic found itself lacking in the very area that was most associated with our power. Fertility. Women grew barren. Generations died out. We knew, deep down, that much of it had to do with our rejection of love – we heard tell of love-marriages and elopements in the mountains and the provinces, far away from the cities and the court, and of the children born of these unions, but even among the husbands and wives who loved each other in the Fairy cities there were often few children, for their love was controlled – measured – bounded by fear.”
“But the alternative...” I remembered what Kian had told me about the dangers of mixing love and magic.
“Yes, the alternative,” my father sighed. “Duels in the streets. Young boys in love self-immolating because the fire in their hearts lit fire to their clothes – unintentionally. Married couples having spats that turned deadly. Uncontrolled passion. That was when my grandfather signed the Edict of Tree Hill – Tree Hill is about five miles south of here. Denouncing passion and love as dangerous tools.”
“And the Winter Court?”
“The Winter Court has a longer tradition than ours of...coldness. They have been a disciplined society. A far more intellectual society than ours, in many ways. I admit this freely. Their magic is stronger because their scholars are more learned, their libraries are fuller. Their technology is more advanced. They needed no Edict. It was only when we realized that their...dispassion would allow them more political power that we had to sign it ourselves.”
“But you weren't at war, then?”
“Not this time,” said my father. “But we have always been at war, stopped by the occasional peace treaty or cease-fire. There are alliances. There are even friendships. But they always come to an end eventually.”
“But you're all fairies!” I said.
“Look at your world,” said my father, gravely. “You're all humans.”
That stopped me.
“Our cultures are incompatible. Our ways are not their ways.”
“That's stupid!” I said, hotly. “That's why the Pixies are gaining power, isn't it? Because the Fairies divided aren't strong enough to fend them off?”
“I suppose so,” said my father.
“You know – I was kidnapped by the Pixies – twice! They plan to try to marry one of the Fairy princesses – to produce a line of hybrid heirs, to entice one side or the other to side with the Pixies, and in turn give heirs of pixie blood the power over all Feyland!”
My father's face turned dark.
“Your mother told me what you have suffered,” he said. “And I am truly sorry that you have suffered it. Feyland is a dangerous place, my darling Breena. That is why, you know. That is why we have worked so hard to protect you from it, your mother and I. That is why I could not reveal myself to you – not really. And that is also why, I must say, that your mother did not tell you about Feyland.”
“But...eventually...”
“We realized we could not hide your destiny from you any longer. Your mother told me that you began having the dreams, feeling the inexorable push towards our land. Had you not been brought here by that Prince, you would certainly have been brought here by your own will, your own accord. You would have followed your dreams.”
“And now?” I asked him. The sun hung heavily in the sky; the Summer Court palace could be seen in the distance.
“And now, you must follow your destiny. And you will one day rule the Fairy Court.”
I shuddered.
Chapter 18
My father and I continued traveling for some while longer. The Knights rode behind us at a respectful distance, allowing us to talk in relative privacy. He told me about the history of the Summer Court, of the great and beautiful things that our ancestors had done for the Fairy realm, about the cloud-capped towers and gorgeous visions of Feyland in its heyday that even the most panoramic vistas of the current incarnation could not match. We began to bond – slowly – in our own way. We spoke a bit of painting, and my father told me of his love of the art, and when he spoke of lovingly applying the paint to the canvas, or tenderly brushing the walls of a cave with his paintbrush, his words resonated within me, and I found myself leaning into him, appreciating his words, understanding him. As much as I hated to admit it, we had a connection. He was my father, after all, and we shared a fairy blood and a fairy nature. He talked to me of magic – something I had never been able to truly share with my mother – and explained to me how it worked. I showed him what I had taught myself to do in the Pixie dungeons when first trying to escape from Delano, transfiguring and reshaping objects, and some of the techniques for gathering energy that Kian had taught me when we trained together at the Winter Lodge.
“Very good!” cried my father. “You are a natural. I can tell you are my daughter by your skill alone.”
And I couldn't help blushing.
When we had reached the Cliffs of Gorgon, the last major landmark before reaching the Summer Palace, we heard a loud, shrieking bugle.
For a moment I thought perhaps that it was the Summer Knights, heralding our arrival. But the sound was eerier than that. It was a high-pitched, frenetic sound that meant only one thing, and one thing only. Attack.
Out of nowhere, there appeared a flock of blue and silver, swords and shields – like a flurry of predatory birds seized upon them. I knew the insignia – it was the same wintry crest I had seen only days before in the court of the Winter Queen. But these were not the kindly knights I recognized from the ball. These were seasoned men of war, embittered – scars on their faces and in their hearts. And at the head of the crowd I recognized their leader.
It was Flynn.
I had seen Flynn first when I was a prisoner of Kian. Kian had been kind to me, treating me with the respect and duty due to a diplomatic hostage. But Flynn was filled with a hatred of my kind – the Summer Kingdom – and had longed to bring my corpse on display to the Winter Queen, unaware of the Queen's friendship with my mother.
“The Summer King!” Flynn spat, drawing his sword! “I did not see you at the ball.”
Our knights drew their swords, and a flurry of gold and red velvet met the steely cool tones of the Winter weapons.
“I came only for my daughter,” said my father. “In peace.”
“Foxflame.” The word was filled with contempt. “Your life will be the prize I have always sought.”
“No!” I cried.
“The Prince may be weak for his little Summer Princess – but I am not weak!”
All around us, we heard the clank and clash of silver – knights battli
ng each other to the death. My heart began beating faster.
“Let us pass!” my father roared. “We come in peace!”
I drew a sword from my belt and held it up before my face, my hands trembling only slightly as I sought to defend myself.
“Peace, Summer? Is that what you call it? Peace?”
Flynn rushed at us, his sword slashing wildly.
“Was it peace when you killed my brothers – one by one – and left me the last of my kin to stand at my mother's side at their funerals?”
My father parried with a single blow.
“Was it peace when you ravaged my village, and burned my childhood home down to the ground?”
Another knight rushed at my father and engaged him in hand-to-hand combat. Flynn was left alone, rounding on me.
“We meet again, Princess.”
I blocked his thrust; the sword shook in his hand and Flynn looked up at me in surprise.
“So the bitch can fight!” he said, sneering at me.
I was able to defend myself for a few moments – enough time to dismount and scramble to my feet, but in truth it was Flynn who was the better fighter. It was clear that he was one of the prizes of the Winter Court, and from his powerful demeanor it was easy enough to see why. He overpowered me easily, knocking the sword from my hand.
I heard it clatter on the ground, and the sound was like a death knell in my heart. Terror squeezed my soul.
“No, Breena!” I heard my father cry, his voice contorting in an anguished howl.
Flynn raised his sword above me, poising, readying, aiming to strike, like a snake before its prey.
“No!” another voice cried out – a voice I recognized, and another sword came down against Flynn.
My heart leaped within my chest. It was Kian!
“You shall not have her!” Kian raged against Flynn, his proud, lithe body moving with the grace and agility of a snow leopard. “You shall not touch her!”
I saw Rodney fighting, too, felling one Winter Knight after another. I could see the pain in his eyes as he did so – the questioning. I knew what he was wondering. Was this one a friend to Shasta? Did this one know her – or love her? And yet it was his duty to fight, and so Rodney fought on.
