Fairy Keeper

by Amy Bearce

  After they wiped their tears and kept walking, Sierra returned to the subject. “No, seriously, won’t Jack kill you for saying those kinds of things in front of his crew? I mean, are you able to hear yourself?”

  Nell sighed. “Yeah. Not at first, but this last time was sort of like being pushed underwater by something. The words were muffled, and it was like something stood between me and my body.” She shrugged. “It’s a creepy feeling, but when it leaves, I’m peaceful. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  As they watched Queenie flit and fly in front of them, Sierra smiled. “No need to explain.”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll end up staying an enforcer,” Nell said in a quick whisper, eyes darting to Corbin. “Corbin said his parents could train me as a healer, maybe. I’m thinking something more peaceful might suit… us… better.”

  She flushed a pretty pink, and Sierra was happy for them. No jealousy soured the moment at all, for which she was thankful.

  “I think that’s great, Nell. My father, well, he’s not a great boss, and you deserve better.”

  They exchanged tentative smiles that suggested a new kind of friendship was possible, one where they might actually choose to spend time together. Perhaps instead of losing Corbin as she had feared, Sierra would gain a new friend.

  The miles passed quickly now that they were so close to their goal. Downhill travel was faster than trudging up the mountain. The weather finally became milder. Each step brought Sierra closer to her little sister. She could now allow herself to think about Phoebe again, to wonder how she was. It didn’t hurt to think of her anymore, because it was all going to be okay. Sierra allowed herself to remember all the special times she’d spent with Phoebe fishing on the dock, gathering greens in the forest, and cooking early in the morning before Jack was awake to ruin everything.

  If Sierra closed her eyes, she could picture Phoebe perfectly: the doe-brown eyes, the carrot-red hair, always with the cowlick on the right side of her brow. She was small for her age, like a little wren dipped in red paint. Her voice captivated everyone, but especially Old Sam, who crooned in joy when she sang like a little bird with her clear soprano. She was altogether too lovely and beautiful to be any part of Jack’s schemes.

  Sierra eyed her fairy, hoping Queenie wouldn’t attack Jack when she first saw him. She seemed to have received a lot of information about him and vibrated with anger whenever Sierra so much as thought his name. If Queenie killed Jack, his men could kill Phoebe in retaliation before anyone could escape with her. Then again, if all the queens would swarm again, Sierra could urge them to attack as a last ditch effort to escape if worst came to worst. The thought made her laugh, the image of Jack running for the hills with a bunch of fairies pinching and biting the seat of his pants. Maybe they’d even sting him and save her the trouble of dealing with him. She savored the image like a tasty leg of lamb and kept on walking, toward home.

  n their last night in the mountains, heaviness weighed on Sierra’s heart. She lay on her bedroll, trying to determine the cause of her sadness. She’d be home in about a week. After nearly a month, that was nothing. She should be exultant! Then she saw Micah standing guard again, leaning against a tree to her right, and her confusion coalesced, like placing her finger on the exact spot of a bruise. They were leaving the Skyclad Mountains the next day. They’d be leaving his home. He should be staying here, but his strong sense of duty demanded he come with them. She frowned at the idea of him thinking he owed her for anything. That was ridiculous. If anything, they owed him―he’d saved their lives, even though Sierra had shot him wrongly. He led them, fed them, kept them safe, and sent the dragon away.

  He touched the tree next to him like a mother might touch her child. Sierra only had faint memories of her mother, but she’d like to think her mother looked at her with the same tenderness Micah gave to the forest when he thought no one was watching.

  At least she thought he didn’t know she was watching, but then he said, “Good evening, Sierra.”

  Ignoring him seemed rude, but so did interrupting what seemed to be a private moment.

  “I’m―I’m sorry to bother you,” Sierra stammered. She rose to her feet and then walked over to him. The others were already asleep.

  Micah’s white teeth flashed in the darkness. The moon glowed above the trees, a fat round of cheese casting its pale light on his handsome features. She rather wished she couldn’t see him. Keeping her wits about her was easier that way.

  His voice was soft when he said, “You, my lady, are never a bother.”

  Things fluttered in her stomach when he spoke, a twist in her belly that wasn’t nausea but something new and different.

  Sierra gestured at the forest. “Having second thoughts?”

  An owl called from the trees behind her, and she startled. He took a step closer, as if to soothe her, but his nearness had the opposite effect.

  He listened to the owl as it hooted again, and he shook his head. “I know what I’ve decided is best.”

  “I don’t.” The words came out twisted, wrong, and she clenched her fists at the surprised hurt that flashed across his handsome face before he composed himself. She tried again. “I mean… it’s wrong taking you from your home,” she added, lamely. She stood there, shifting back and forth on her feet, thinking of how she could escape to her bedroll.

  “My home has been a sad place for me since I lost my parents and my voice. Do not fear for me. Leaving will be a good experience, a new adventure, you might say.” His voice was as deep and rich as the velvet night sky―and as soft. “Besides,” he continued, “I would like to see your home.”

  “My home?” she squeaked.

  He took yet another step closer, and it was all she could do not to retreat. She kept her back straight, but looking into his eyes made her pulse thunder. She did not think about him being a faun at all. Instead, she saw warm brown eyes shining in the moonlight, gazing down on her with what seemed to be… affection? Longing? Her brows knitted together as she tried to work out his expression.

  He touched her forehead. “I can all but see the wheels turning, Fairy Keeper. Where is your charge right now, anyway?”

  A thought was enough now to get a response from Queenie. Dream time, sleepy…

  Sierra smiled, a little bit of a goofy, lopsided grin at the fairy’s happy tone. “She’s about to fall asleep.”

  He leaned forward. “And how did you know? You denied hearing her before. I can see her from here, but your eyes are not so sharp. Why do you deny what is so obvious? You can never own your full powers until you do.”

  Ice trickled down her back. She still couldn’t admit her secret. “It was a logical guess, Micah. She was lying down when I came over here.”

  Why wouldn’t he leave her alone about it? By all the stars, it was none of his business. She didn’t ask to have some kind of weird mental and emotional connection with her fairy. Corbin might hate her for this. She’d caught him gazing at her new keeper mark several times already. She raised her hand and ran her fingertips across the raised edges of her mark, tracing the scrolling lines beneath her fingers.

  Micah nodded as he watched her. “Yes, that mark. I’ve never seen anything like it, nor heard of anything such as that from my parents. You’re special, Sierra. Remember, you are more a part of the magical world than any human since the first keeper bonded to her queen. You will be able to do things others can’t.”

  He captured her gaze with his eyes and wasn’t letting go. “Your mark is not the only reason you are special, either.”

  He reached out, there in the moonlight, and caressed her cheek. Sierra closed her eyes and leaned into his hand slightly, enough to feel unbalanced in every way possible. Her breath froze in her chest.

  He whispered, “I’m coming with you. Perhaps I am not ready to say goodbye to… my new friends.”

  She thought his lips curled into a smile, but the darkness hid his face too much to know for sure.

  �
��Okay,” was all she managed to say. Brilliant. Just brilliant. She stumbled back to her bedroll, unable to tear her eyes away from him. Even when she lay down and forced herself to close her eyes, she still saw him glowing in the moonlight, like something right out of a bard’s tale.

  As they left the dense trees the next morning, it was clear spring was on its way at last. Buds of wildflowers peeked through here and there in the brown sea of the plains. Tiny shoots of new yellow grasses speared through the dead remains of winter. The field buzzed with the rasping sounds of familiar grey leafhoppers and strange, low-flying insects that didn’t live along the coast. The grasses tickled her legs even through her pants, which had a number of tears. She glanced back at Micah and stifled a laugh.

  His head was high, as if he was walking through sewage and clearly choosing to ignore that fact. The cause for his aloof irritation was on his legs. All the humans decreed the knee-length kilt too strange. Pants and a homespun shirt, borrowed from Corbin, would hopefully help Micah blend in better. He wondered aloud several times how men could stand such coverings on their legs―far too restrictive―but otherwise didn’t complain. Sierra noted the shirt effectively hid the muscled torso but didn’t detract from his stupid handsomeness.

  Despite what she knew she should feel, Sierra was pleased he was coming with them. She tried not to think about why she felt so relieved. Instead she thought about what she’d tell Jack. She wondered if word of their return would reach him before they did. He had employees and spies in most villages and ports within two day’s journey of home, after all.

  It was odd to be in the plains again, after so many nights surrounded by the rocky mountain cliffs and soaring trees. Sierra felt almost naked, too exposed. The others seemed to feel the same. Their first night of camp was a strangely hunched and crowded affair in which they laid their rolls unusually close to each other and built only a tiny fire. The light shined so brightly in the open night air. They weren’t so far from the mountains to discount what the warmth and the light might lure, either.

  Spring might be on its way, but winter hadn’t completely released its grip. Frost greeted them each morning, and they creaked their way out of their bedrolls. Sometimes the queens flew with them, making joyful squeals and giggles. Other times, they roamed far, and only Sierra and Corbin’s queens remained with their little rag-tag group of four.

  Each day, Sierra’s excitement grew to be back near home. She might not love much about it, but Phoebe was waiting.

  he plains blurred by, the days speeding past. Nell’s shoulder was functional again, so their dinners finally included meat once more. Their stomachs stopped growling so often. Their moods rose every day. Now each step was a cadence in a marching song, a triumphant one in which Sierra rescued Phoebe and saved the day.

  The day Sierra could finally smell the ocean, triumph surged through her. She couldn’t believe they’d done it. Queenie zoomed by, and Sierra was so relieved she wanted to shout, so she did. Raising her fists to the blue sky, she let out a holler that made her friends laugh. She’d managed to mostly push aside the heavy price for Phoebe’s freedom that Queen would pay if they couldn’t manage to escape Jack after all. But the possibility sat on the edge of Sierra’s thoughts, like a scab she couldn’t stop picking at.

  She asked Queenie to tell the other queens to stay away from humans for now. It was the only way to keep their existence secret. The fairies would stay in the nearby forests, away from the ports. Even Corbin’s fairy Grace patted his cheek and then flew off with the group. Only Queenie remained, hidden in Sierra’s hair.

  The four of them didn’t even stop by Keeper Hannon’s house in the press for time, though Corbin swore he’d return right away once Phoebe was safe. The old keeper deserved to know his queen might be one of those who had returned. Instead, the group hiked all the way into Port Beltane. Their first night back in an inn was a luxury after so many nights on the hard ground.

  Unlike the last time they stayed there, Sierra didn’t even mind sharing a room with Nell. They had warm water for washing out their many wounds, finally. The innkeeper looked alarmed by their ragged appearance but was too afraid of Jack’s reputation to refuse them a room. People around here who didn’t treat Jack’s representatives well… didn’t do well themselves. Sierra tried to explain to the innkeeper that she had no reason to fear, but the poor woman wouldn’t listen.

  And all their scratches and wounds kept people from staring at Micah. Well, stopped the men. The young ladies seemed to do nothing but stare at him. He might have hidden his magical nature, but he couldn’t hide his gorgeousness. Sierra couldn’t really blame the girls, since she caught herself staring, too, but she hated them all. She glared at every girl who flirted with Micah and was pleased when he politely rebuffed each one.

  The whole last day of their journey, Sierra was flying. Port Mabon came and went with hardly a notice. Phoebe! Sierra would see her little sister so soon. Phoebe would be thrilled to see Queenie, too, and to meet Micah and to see Corbin. Sierra’s friendship with Nell would be shocking, but Phoebe was always quick to kindness. Sierra knew they’d get along fine.

  When the group finally crossed into Tuathail and hiked over the small rise to Jack’s land, Sierra’s heart stuttered with a combination of excitement and fear. The house looked smaller than when she left, though she supposed it was the same. Grey mud bricks crumbled around the corners between the logs, and the fence sagged along the yard. A few more earthquakes must have rocked its foundation, because the far corner of the house now slanted at a precarious angle.

  She paused for a moment, her mind’s eye full of soaring mountains, ragged cliffs, wide open meadows. This building looked too frail and small to be the prison she always believed it to be.

  Then her father stepped out of the door. At first, Sierra would have sworn she had shrunk two feet, back to the child who feared him so. He looked thinner than she remembered, but his walk remained powerful. His cold eyes made her shoulders tighten, and his snake-like gracefulness still sent shivers of fear down her back. She shook her head and remembered that her covert plans to escape soon with Phoebe meant he didn’t have a hold on them anymore. They would be free.

  Sierra beamed, a smile that made Jack blink, and she ran the rest of the way down the path, with Queenie now flying at her shoulder.

  “We did it!” Sierra called, struggling to keep her surging triumphant feelings hidden. If she seemed like she was bragging, he might cause problems. All she wanted was to see Phoebe. His plans to send her away in a year didn’t matter at all now. Sierra would have Phoebe far from him long before he could send her to Bentwood.

  Jack glanced at the queen as he approached Sierra. Queenie’s wings shimmered in the golden light, and Jack offered Sierra a quick, tight smile when he stopped right in front of her.

  “I’m sure you’ll be able to get the new hatch set up today,” he said.

  Today? This wasn’t the response Sierra expected, but she supposed he was anxious to start making money.

  “Is Phoebe inside?” she asked, wondering why Phoebe hadn’t run out to greet her. Sierra craned her neck to peer around her father. “Phoebes?”

  Micah, Nell, and Corbin were still several paces back. Sierra’s father caught Nell’s eye and waved her forward. She glanced at Corbin but immediately followed Jack’s orders. Sierra pressed her lips together. Perhaps Nell was thinking twice about finding another occupation even though she was with Corbin. Sierra couldn’t even blame her. Jack was a hard man to cross.

  “Sir?” Nell asked, ready, shoulders straight and tall.

  “You’re two days late,” he said.

  Nell’s brow furrowed, and it looked like she was counting to herself.

  Between Sierra’s passing out and Nell’s near-coma state, missing time would have been easy. Maybe they’d all been unconscious after the fairy attack longer than they had known. They might really be too late, Sierra realized, panicking. Coldness filled her stomach. Her throat was
closing up. “What are you saying, Jack?”

  “Your sister is already gone. The deal is done, Sierra. Mr. Bentwood collected her and took her to Port Iona two days ago. She should be arriving there right about now, in fact.”

  His eyes were thunderous, as if he somehow blamed her for the early loss of his youngest child. Fury flamed inside Sierra, and she took a step toward him, her hands fisted. She was ready to pound him into the ground, and it was written all over her face.

  “Really?” was all he said, voice soft, but his hand slid to his hip. Before she could blink, the silver flash of a knife was at her throat. “Never threaten me, daughter. Ever.”

  Then he lowered the knife and stepped back. Nell shifted her feet.

  “I realize the news about Phoebe comes as a shock and you are not in your right mind. Go now to your hatch, and we’ll not speak of this again.”

  He clearly thought he was being magnanimous, Sierra thought. Showing her mercy.

  This time when the rage and grief flowed, she let it surge through her like an unbroken, wild horse. Her hand snapped out without her conscious thought. The back of her hand connected to his face with a resounding crack, exactly as he had done to her too many times to count. It was extremely satisfying. Nell froze. Sierra barely noticed Micah or Corbin coming up behind her. Her blood thrummed with the deep desire for revenge against the man who sold his daughter to keep himself in money.

  “You’ll regret this. I’ll see to it,” Sierra promised, and the threat was loud in the warm morning sun. She meant every single word.

  He gave one shout of laughter, but it wasn’t funny at all. It was chilling. He wiped away a trickle of blood dripping from his split lip. She hoped it stung.