by Ron C. Nieto
He gave her a look of genuine innocence. “No?”
“Of course you wouldn’t.” She sighed, rubbing her eyes to try and clear her thoughts again. “Well, it is. Just so you know for future reference.”
“Would it help to know it was sixty-six years ago?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Another sigh. “If it was that long ago, I don’t think he’ll even remember.”
“Such length of time is nothing for a knight of faerie. He will remember and you must make it so that refusing to assist you is not an option. He did claim to love her, so perhaps you should remind him that a love that fades is no true love at all.”
“If he does love her, he should want to help, shouldn’t he?”
Troy gave her a rueful smile and stood up. “Lily, whether he loved her or not is not the question. I doubt he still pines after a mortal woman, and even if his love still held firm, there would be great dishonor in admitting to such longing. The game, for that is what it is, is to make it seem like belying an oath of love would be an even greater dishonor, even if such an oath was given in a moment of passion and to a lesser being.” He reached out a hand to help Lily up. “Now come. Let us make for the clearing. It is more comfortable there, and in the morrow, we will make for the Seelie court.”
Lily didn’t take his hand. She stared at him.
“Lesser being?”
“Do not take offense in truth, Lily,” he said, not dropping his hand. “Humans live fleeting lives, are blind to the reality around them, fail to remember their past, and cannot even foresee the consequences of striking poor bargains in their future. That there are a few bright, extraordinary individuals does not change the fact.”
Finally, Lily closed her fingers over his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She didn’t reply, though, because she found she didn’t know what to say. Longevity was a point, she supposed. Immortality had always been a mark of the divine. With that much experience behind them, it was logical they would find it easy to twist words and situations like expert politicians and chess players all wrapped in one sharp, quicksilver mind. To such a mind, a human must seem almost like a child. He was right, she guessed.
Still, when she followed him to the clearing she had come to think of as his home, she did feel less like a child and more like dirt.
C H A P T E R XXII
“Wake up.” His voice filtered down her subconscious and pulled her free of a dream. Its fleeting images dissolved like sandcastles under siege and she blinked her eyes open.
“If the dirt begins to feel as comfortable as my own bed, what does it say about me?” she mumbled, her voice sticky with sleep.
“That your own bed might be uncomfortable.”
“Too early to deal with that.” She groaned and sat up, stretching her back and letting the blood flow through her limbs again. “Okay, I’m ready,” she said after a moment. “Let’s cross over to wherever.”
“To the mortal realm, in fact. We shall find an opening there to take us to the Seelie court.”
He stood towering over her, one hand outstretched to help her out and her knapsack slung over one shoulder. She clasped his fingers and let him pull her to her feet.
“No direct path?”
“None that I would dare use with you.”
“First you say I’m a lesser being and now you’re ashamed of walking around with me?” She gave him a smile, and if it was a bit forced, she thought no one would notice. “I could get offended.”
Troy’s eyes snapped to hers and her expression froze in place. His gaze pinned her, like a butterfly affixed to its exposition case, and she felt just as vulnerable. Her casual words, remnants of the mood she had fallen asleep to, sounded petty in retrospect.
“I—”
He smirked. “You are not quite suited to play that particular game either, Lily. Such tartness in your tone is unbecoming, and the display of insecurity uncalled for.”
“Is it?” And the answer mattered all of a sudden.
“Yes, on both accounts. Now, if that is all?”
“Sure, let’s go. I’m, uh, I’ll try not to react like that again.”
He nodded, not adding another word, and led the way down the riverside. They slipped through an invisible opening and found themselves back in the mortal world. A chilly draft had picked up on that side and Lily shivered, wishing for something warmer to wear. When she had prepared her luggage back in Manchester, she hadn’t thought about outdoor living, and the weather wore her down with as much enthusiasm as the worry and the lack of sleep did.
But she wouldn’t complain. She wouldn’t go back. She just trudged on, following in Troy’s footsteps as he guided her across the forest. She had no idea of where they were, or what direction they had taken—Troy followed a precise, invisible path that meandered under the canopy and took turns at unpredictable intervals, and all she could do was trust him and follow.
The situation reminded her of that first time, in his haven, desperate to find the way to the riverside. There had been endless walking back then, too. She had also been unable to pinpoint for how long she put one foot in front of the other. Then, she had counted steps to have something solid to grasp in her mind. Now, she just didn’t want to know the real distance they traveled.
“You are tired,” Troy said, breaking the silence. A bird cawed somewhere, startled by the sudden noise, and the words took a moment to register with Lily.
“Yeah,” she said. Her thoughts moved sluggishly in her head, as if they were floating in maple syrup. “Guess I didn’t sleep that great.”
His hand cupped her shoulder and the pervasive coolness of his skin invaded her. She began to shake as he guided her aside and pressed down to make her sit.
“We will rest for a moment. You may nap if you wish. We will proceed once you feel recovered.”
“We don’t have time to rest,” she said, offering token resistance to his insistent pressure.
Her legs folded without her permission and she sat down, her back propped against a tree trunk. She frowned up at Troy, who knelt in front of her.
“That wasn’t you,” she said. She didn’t ask.
“Forcing you to the floor? No, it was not. I fear it was your own doing.” The corner of his lips curled up and his eyes glinted. Lily squinted at him.
“But you find it amusing.”
“How could I not?”
She sighed, leaned her head back against the tree, and closed her eyes. “I guess you’re right. I must look like a pathetic rescuer at this point.”
She heard ruffling and a moment later Troy sat by her side, his shoulder jostling hers as he settled down.
“Sometimes,” he said, “the only way to save time is to spend a little time.”
“Meaning, I’ll be useless if I don’t get myself together now.”
“Just so. Rest for a moment, Lily.”
A shiver ran down her spine when he said her name. For a second, she thought he would command her but he didn’t. It didn’t matter. Exhaustion wore her down regardless.
When her eyes were almost closed, she heard his voice drifting down.
“To answer your previous jibe,” he said, “you will recall I mentioned a few bright, extraordinary individuals.”
She didn’t reply. But her nap proved to be more restful than the whole of the previous night had been, and when she awoke, she realized her head had slipped to rest on his shoulder.
C H A P T E R XXIII
“I see a glimmer,” Lily said.
“The opening of the path. You are improving at detecting them.”
“You sat us to nap at their doorstep?”
“I kept vigil. It appeared to be the best place if we wanted to cross while fresh.”
Lily groaned. She wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep if she had known where they were—which, she suspected, was the reason he hadn’t told her.
“If I’m getting better at seeing them, how come I still can’t see the openings to your rivers
ide clearing?”
“I am more skilled at hiding them. Now, come. Let us not tarry more.” Toy grinned, a note of pride entering the gesture.
He held out his hand and they crossed over together, the world shifting on its axis and warping around them. An instant of pressure pressed in from all angles, squeezing the air of Lily’s lungs.
Then they were gone from one world and stood in another.
Trees tall enough to dwarf a man and remind him of his insignificance surrounded them. It was something Lily had read about, but she had always thought it was a poetic license. Or a description of a tropical forest. Either way, she hadn’t expected to see them, to walk below their canopy, to feel such an inconsequential thing in comparison.
Each trunk was as wide as the pillars supporting the high vaults of a cathedral and they grew straight and tall, so tall. She had to crane her neck back to see the lowest branches. The bark was a warm bronze tone in contrast with a grass so green it seemed like they were traversing a forest of gold and emeralds. Sun rays somehow filtered through the thick foliage here and there, dappling the ground in honey, and when she breathed, she caught a scent sweet and vibrant permeating the warm breeze. She thought it was the smell of life, although the idea sounded silly even in her own head.
“This is incredible,” she whispered, afraid to speak too loud. It would be rude, like chattering or shouting in a sanctuary back in her side of the world. “It’s pure beauty. I don’t ever want to forget this place.”
“You shall not,” Troy said. He had also stopped just after emerging from the path, most likely knowing that she would be arrested by the sights. “The sight of this place will accompany you forever and the true memories you make here will never fade. A gift or a curse from the land, take it as you will.”
“I think it’s a gift,” Lily said, still looking around and drinking their surroundings in. “I guess not very many people get to see this place, and I’m glad I have, and won’t forget.” Finally, she turned to him, grinning.
He didn’t share her wonder. She wouldn’t say she was very good at reading him when he wore his blank facade, but still she thought he looked nervous. There was no trace of mischievous smiles, and his eyes, so intense and observant, skittered all over, darting from shadow to shadow to pool of light. The line of his shoulders and back was relaxed, perhaps too relaxed, and the fingers of his right hand drummed an arrhythmic tune on his thigh.
“Is everything okay?”
“As much as can be expected, I suppose,” he said, barely sparing her a glance. “I must confess I miss the welcoming party.”
“There’s going to be a ball?”
“A ball?” At that, Troy did look at her in curiosity. “Why would they go to such trouble?”
“Well, you just said ‘the party.’”
“Lily.” He sighed. “The party of guards.”
She winced. “Oh, that kind of party. Sure. It makes more sense. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I dare say nothing at all beyond appreciating the views.”
“You weren’t supposed to answer that particular comment,” she said, trying to suppress a laugh at his matter-of-fact tone. “But you’re right. I’ll try to keep more focused through the next discovery.”
“We shall see how you fare.” His gaze flickered at a spot behind her and she tried very hard not to whirl around. Instead, she turned and schooled her features to mimic Troy’s amused, unrevealing expression to the best of her abilities.
Her mask wasn’t good to begin with and it shattered into a thousand pieces when she saw what had caught his attention.
There were four of them, so similar they could have been brothers. Each was tall and slender, standing at least a head taller than her meager height, but it wasn’t height which made them imposing—it was their exquisite grace, their nimbleness that made them surreal, like wingless angels come to earth. They were all blond, different shades of wheat and gold and sunlight, and their eyes shone sapphire blue and silver gray.
Those jewel-like eyes were fixed on them, all four pairs, and a shiver shook her so badly she had to bite the inside of her cheek to control the knee-jerk impulse of hiding.
It was the party Troy had mentioned, and Lily thought it odd that Seelie fay, who associated with the summer court and displayed the warm tones of the earth so brilliantly, would have eyes as cold as theirs.
One of them took the lead with two gliding steps. His movement made no sound and the forest floor lay undisturbed beneath his soft leather boots. If she hadn’t been staring at him, she wouldn’t have realized he had moved at all.
“Kelpie,” he said. “What a most unexpected visit. If I recall, you claimed to despise life at court. What then is so important to bring you back to us?”
The words themselves were bland but the tone had been measured with jovial notes underneath. It spoke of nothing but pleasant surprise. However, there had been a core of steel twisted around the whole message, sharp as a blade and just as hard. That part spoke of contempt over someone who had to swallow his own words and come begging for help. And there was yet another nuance, some flicker hidden in those cold eyes that conveyed a sense of amusement over someone who was forced to do something unpleasant for them.
They were different from him, just as Troy had claimed. Even different from Glaistig. They were beautiful, so very beautiful, but like snakes and other poisonous animals of her human world, the more gorgeous, the greater the danger.
“Even those who claim not to have the stomach for a feast are bound to appreciate small morsels,” Troy said. “How could I not return to visit my gracious friends in their chosen abode from time to time?”
Troy’s voice was still his, calm and carrying nothing by honesty, but Lily noticed the change in his speech patterns, in the rhythm of his words. He was playing the game too, and behind his polite words stood two clear insults. He had just told the other faerie he despised court because he couldn’t stomach courtiers like him and had also called him out on his poor manners as a host all in one fell swoop.
Lily allowed herself a small smile even though the party leader remained unruffled.
“Would that you visited more often you would not feel the need to find unfitting pets to relieve your solitary tediousness.”
Troy’s hand cupped the back of Lily’s head, his cool fingers digging under her hair and massaging her scalp. A show of possession, like a child warning another not to toy with this particular doll, but also a warning and a sign of support for her. Lily bit her lip, swallowing the words that had nearly escaped her and would have made a mess of the situation, and wondered when he had learned to read her intentions so well.
And when did I become so able to understand his silent messages?
The movement drew the leader’s eyes to her, made him pay closer attention.
“She is lucid,” he said with a blink that might have been surprise.
“She is, and I assure you she fits me well,” Troy said in her stead.
The leader’s features, still and perfect like a statue up to that point, relaxed enough to offer a hint of a smile, just a tilting upward of the corner of his lips. Something had transpired, but Lily wasn’t sure what. She couldn’t tell what the last bout had been about or who had won it. She only saw the moment the tiny gesture indicated a break.
“I see,” the leader of the fay said. “Come. Allow us to offer hospitality before we are shown to be ungrateful for your visit. I will personally show you to your quarters and ensure you find refreshment after your travels.”
He turned on his heel and a tiny pressure from Troy’s hand told Lily to follow. The other three fay parted for their leader and then fell into step, flanking their sides and bringing up the rear guard in perfect diamond formation. They wore leather, fine linen and silk, and no weapon was in sight, but still, they were clearly soldiers. Or knights, Lily supposed. Except that she had no idea what sort of chivalry code they would follow and wasn’t willing to bet it in
volved saving damsels in distress for the sheer joy of it.
She took an involuntary step closer to Troy as they were herded along.
At first she hadn’t noticed, but now she saw the huge trees didn’t grow at random. It wasn’t a normal forest, not even in those very basic details, and while she couldn’t see the pattern they formed, she could catch glimpses of it here and there. The distances between trunks were arranged just so to encourage you to follow one particular way, creating winding avenues intertwining at some points. They were following one such path and Lily itched with the need to wander off and see where the other paths might lead to. Did each of them lead to a different opening like the one they had come through? Like a labyrinth with the Seelie court at its heart, connected to everywhere in the human world at once.
Then they arrived at their destination. The trees fell away and they found themselves in front of a pure-white cliff with an entrance carved in the side, wide enough for five people to cross it at the same time and of proportionate height.
For some reason, Lily had thought the Seelie court would be an open clearing, easier to flee. When they entered the hall, a spike of fear shot up her spine and she had to force herself to breathe slowly. The construction was monumental, all open space and straight lines and a ceiling soaring high above, illuminated by light warm as the sun. Even when their escort fell behind and the party leader guided them off onto a side passage, the vaulted ceiling was higher than the corridors of a human palace or museum. Still, she had to fight a sense of encroaching claustrophobia.
At last they stopped in front of a heavy oak door set into the stone wall and their guide made a sweeping gesture.
“Your accommodations. I trust they will be to your liking.”
“I am sure you would not offer us anything less than acceptable,” Troy replied with a small smirk.
“Of course.” The other offered a tight-lipped smile and left the same way they had come.
