The Secret of the Dread Forest: The Faire Folk Trilogy

by Gillian Summers

  Soon, Keelie replied.

  Now! Dad’s mental voice blared into her mind. Keelie immediately shut him out. She didn’t want Dad talking to her telepathically. He’d been doing it more and more ever since they’d arrived at the Dread Forest, and she was afraid that he’d look into her mind as well. What if he saw what had happened with Sean? She’d been such a fool, telling him that she loved him, that she’d missed him.

  Keelie, come to the gathering! You promised you would be here and your Grandmother is unhappy. If you want to fit in with the elves you need to meet them halfway. They’ve come to see you.

  Why couldn’t he get a cell phone and text her like normal people did? And she wasn’t talking about one of those elf phones that used the trees as cell phone towers, either.

  She tuned him out. She didn’t care if Grandmother was unhappy. Keliatiel Heartwood seemed to be glad to have her son back, but she ignored Keelie except when Zeke was around. It was as if she didn’t know what to do about her odd, half-human grandchild.

  Keelie started walking back to the path, working to keep Ariel steady on her arm, placing her feet carefully so that she didn’t slide on the pine needles. She wondered where the boy had gone, still amazed that the Dread hadn’t freaked him out this far into the forest. Maybe she shouldn’t tell Dad or the others either. The boy might need their help, but they might overreact if they heard that a human had been here.

  As she reached the wide, sandy path that led to the elven village, she glanced back wistfully at the gloomy forest. If the boy wasn’t hurt, she wished he’d stuck around to talk a little. She was lonely. Her best friend Laurie had spent a couple of weeks with her at the last Ren Faire, in New York, but Laurie was back home in L.A. now. Their older friend Raven was in college in New York City, taking a heavy class load so that she could finish early and rush back to Canooga Springs, New York. Keelie felt totally alone.

  She hadn’t even seen Sean until today. Lord Niriel was in charge of the jousters, and he insisted on them maintaining a rigorous training routine even in the off-season. Sean had either been busy working out with the elven jousters yesterday or avoiding her. But Keelie had been willing to wait to spend time with him. She’d been busy with Ariel and Alora, the acorn who’d been given over to Keelie’s care by the Wildewood Forest’s queen. In a matter of days, the acorn had quickly grown into a seedling, and now it was a treeling. It was a total brat, too. Keelie bet that was why Dad was so insistent that she go to the party. Alora was probably throwing a tantrum.

  She trudged back along the path, slowing as she saw the distinctive stone-and-timber buildings that made up the elven village. She was dreading the next few hours, and maybe the whole winter ahead. A small breeze ruffled Ariel’s feathers and the hawk lifted her head to catch the cool air. Keelie was glad that, at least, Ariel had flown. It was a rare occurrence, although now it could be a daily escape for both of them. Maybe Ariel would sleep soundly tonight, dreaming of swooping down on unsuspecting field mice.

  Skirting her father’s house, Keelie went to the workshop in the back where she’d built a temporary mews for Ariel out of chicken wire and boards. Once she had settled the hawk, she examined the door for holes and stared, puzzled, at the smoothly-joined boards that formed the entrance. No way could Ariel have gotten out by herself, and she was sure she hadn’t left the door open.

  She climbed the three worn, shallow, stone steps to the house and entered the kitchen—a broad room with a stacked stone hearth at one end and an array of copper pots hanging in the center over a scarred timber table. She hurried through to the hallway that led to the paneled foyer, and then up the curving stairs to her bedroom.

  So far, her bedroom had been the best part of her new life in the Dread Forest. Dad must have had folks working on it at the beginning of the summer, back when she’d first moved in with him at the High Mountain Faire in Colorado. A canopied bed dominated the room, its posts made from twisted wisteria vines that held back billowing curtains of spangled blue and purple gauze. A cherry dresser was set up on one wall, each drawer knob a carved golden apple, and above it was a large round mirror, the frame carved with realistic-looking apple branches. She loved to run her hand over the smooth, glossy wood, which sent her images of its long-ago days on a Virginia hillside, when puffy clouds and passing deer were the only movement.

  The room’s sole window had an extra-wide sill, which was where she’d put Alora, the acorn treeling, in her pot. The sill was vacant now, since Alora was visiting the aunties—three ancient oaks huddled together at the opposite edge of the village green. Keelie was glad, because she’d had enough of the treeling’s babyish demands.

  She quickly changed out of her jeans and T-shirt and tossed on the bat-sleeved velveteen medieval dress her grandmother had given her to wear tonight. Its skirts flared out from a tight bodice, but there were no buttons or zippers. It was cut so that you had to wiggle into it, and then adjust it until it fit. She clasped a jeweled belt with a silver buckle adorned with acorns and oak leaves around her hips, and she was ready to go. There was nothing that could be done about her wild, curly brown hair without a strenuous flat-ironing session, and she didn’t have time. Who cared, anyway?

  There was nothing she could do to make the elves think she was beautiful, or that she was one of them. She tossed aside the wimpy leather slippers that matched the outfit and put on the expensive custom boots Lady Annie had made for her at the Wildewood Renaissance Faire in New York.

  Her grandmother’s house was at the end of a short path that skirted the broad green common area. If any human ever saw this place, they would believe it was part of a theme park. She could picture it now: Medieval Land, complete with picturesque cottages and small strongholds, handsome elf lords, awful, wicked grandmother elves, and traitorous jousters who made you think they loved you and then left you—

  She stopped and took a deep breath. This would not do at all. She was going to march into the party and own it. She would not look bitter or betrayed. She would smile and try not to bite anyone, no matter what they said. When she felt in control again, she walked quickly to the front of the well-lit house. She could hear the buzzing of many voices through the open windows.

  Keliatiel Heartwood’s house was two stories tall and made of light grey stone, its jutting upper story supported by heavy dark timbers. The path that led to the front door was bordered with fragrant herbs, and in the side yard bee skeps stood on tables, angled so that bee flight paths didn’t intersect the walking trail.

  Keelie stepped onto the stone stoop and placed her hand hesitantly on the glass doorknob. She took a deep breath, then staggered backwards, heart hammering, as the door flew inwards and she recognized the tall, elegant elfin the opening.

  “Greetings, Keliel Heartwood. I expect you thought you’d never see me again.” His deep, beautiful voice was like poisonous moss, velvety and lethal.

  It was Lord Elianard, the unicorn killer himself.

  two

  “Lord Elianard!” Keelie stepped back, putting distance between herself and the elf lord. There was major-league bad history between them. “What are you doing here?”

  “Your grandmother did me the honor of inviting me to your gathering,” Elianard said. “I could not refuse.” He held the door open and waited for Keelie to enter.

  Revolted, she remembered him draining the life force from Einhorn, the unicorn guardian of the forest above the Wildewood Faire, using a powerful amulet that Einhorn later gave to Keelie for safekeeping. Even after Elianard failed to kill the unicorn, he’d shown no remorse, claiming that everything he’d done was for the benefit of the elves. She would be safer staying outside.

  “Child, where have you been?” a stern voice said. It was Grandmother Keliatiel, the Lady of the Forest, the honcho elfin charge of all the trees and magic in the Dread Forest. The older woman stood beside Elianard, the same haughty expression on both their faces. The two elves glanced at one another knowingly, as if they’d been discuss
ing Keelie. She wondered how her grandmother could bear to be so close to him. Didn’t she care? Keelie knew that Dad had told Keliatiel about what had happened in the Wildewood.

  A wave of anger washing over her, Keelie stepped back, unwilling to submit to their superior attitudes. She quelled the urge to run, although it was appealing to think of getting away from her grandmother. And away from Elianard. She could camp in the Dread Forest with Ariel and Alora. As uncomfortable as it would be, it would be better than sticking around with these hypocrites. Keelie breathed deeply, sucking in the cool evening air, easing the anger that surged through her.

  Something warm and furry rubbed up against her ankle, and calm filled her as claws snagged her soft leather boot. Then a very loud and comforting purring surrounded her, cushioning her in a bubble of warm, caramel sound. Knot had arrived. Keelie glanced down to see the oversized, pumpkin-colored cat sitting between her and Grandmother Keliatiel.

  He blinked up at the elven elders, then thrust a leg straight up in the air and started to wash his backside with his pink tongue. Her so-called guardian and a major pain in the backside; Knot didn’t pussyfoot around.

  Grandmother Keliatiel looked away, her nose wrinkled in disdain, and her heavy gaze settled back on Keelie. She felt trapped by her grandmother’s piercing green stare, and crossed her arms over chest, not that the gesture would protect her.

  Keelie! Dad’s mental shout made her brain hurt.

  “Dad, I’m here,” she said aloud. Keliatiel and Elianard exchanged another glance. They hadn’t heard her father’s call.

  A moment later, Dad pushed Elianard aside and stepped outside. He looked like an elven prince tonight, with his light brown hair tied back so that his pointed ears swept up in graceful arcs, and he wore a long green riding tunic and hose, with boots that wrapped his slender legs in soft green to his knees. He enveloped her in a hug. “You took too long,” he whispered.

  Dad’s strong arms made her feel safe and protected. She wished that all the others would disappear, that it could be just the two of them, as it had been in Colorado and New York. Their relationship was too new and too precious to share.

  Grandmother’s gaze turned frosty. “Zekeliel, the child is wild enough without rewarding her for her abhorrent behavior.”

  Dad’s arms stiffened, and he dropped them to his sides. “She is my daughter, Mother, and I will raise her as I see fit.”

  Elianard made a tsk, tsk sound. “It’s exactly as I told you.”

  “It’s worse,” Grandmother said. “But now is not the time or place to discuss this matter. We have guests, and Keliel has rudely kept them waiting at her own welcome gathering.”

  Indignant, Keelie straightened, ready to tell her grandmother exactly what she’d learned here, when Dad placed his arm around her shoulder.

  “She’s right,” he whispered. “Let’s go inside and greet your guests.”

  Knot finally stopped his impromptu bath and walked in the door after them.

  Grandmother Keliatiel pushed a foot into his path.

  “Stop, fairy. You are not invited.”

  Knot ignored her and sauntered past her, his tail held high. The kitty tail message was clear—kiss this.

  Grandmother Keliatiel sighed. “Let us end this tiresome evening.”

  For once, Keelie couldn’t agree with her grandmother more.

  Inside the house, the scent of cinnamon was layered through savory food smells. Keelie’s stomach growled as she stepped into the tall-ceilinged great room of her grandmother’s home. This was where her father grew up, she realized. Every inch of space was crowded with the gathered elves, who ate and drank, their raised voices mingled with the sound of a flute playing softly somewhere by the main hallway on the other side of the room.

  Keelie smiled stiffly at the suspicious and curious looks directed her way. She was an outsider here, worse than a stranger. A human. A half-human, anyway.

  The guests held earthenware mugs and plates, reminding Keelie of the pottery she’d seen for sale at Renaissance Faires. She couldn’t believe that she actually felt a pang of homesickness for her father’s ridiculous curlicued wooden camper, perched on the back of his old pickup truck. Events were pretty grim if she was missing the Swiss Miss Chalet. She wanted to grab her Dad and run away to check out California’s Ren Faires, far from here.

  Instead, she walked forward, trying to summon the fortitude to get her through this. Maybe she’d find Knot and hang out with him. Okay, now she knew she was desperate.

  A familiar-looking elderly woman with long, straight silver hair was regarding her with a steady, unsmiling gaze. Keelie stared back. She could be rude, too. The woman winked, and then Keelie laughed.

  “Do you remember me, child?”

  “I do, but—”

  “We met in the Wildewood. The Emergency Response Team?”

  “Oh, yeah. The rescue rangers. I remember now. Etila…”

  “Etilafael.”

  “Right, thanks.” The elf woman had been wearing her hair in a severe knot when she’d led a team of elven healers through the disease-ravaged Wildewood, but Keelie remembered her words: I expect great things from you.

  “What is your sense of the forest?” Etilafael was asking her. “Have you met the great trees of the Grove? The ones called the aunties?”

  “I have met them, and they are caring for my treeling, Alora. I talked to a fir on the ridge earlier. He showed me the development at the base of the mountain.”

  Etilafael frowned. “Unfortunate, that. The mayor of the human town has allowed construction to encroach on our forest borders.”

  “Do the elves own the forest? I mean, legally?”

  Just then Lord Niriel, Sean’s father, joined them, handsome in robes embroidered with the silver branch emblem of the jousting company he led. He bowed to Etilafael.

  Keelie forced herself to relax. She wouldn’t show everyone how upset she was over Sean.

  Lord Niriel didn’t seem to notice that anything was wrong. “Keelie, I wish to welcome you formally to the Dread Forest. I see you’ve made the acquaintance of Lady Etilafael, the Council Head.”

  Keelie glanced quickly at her new friend. The head of the Council?

  Lady Etilafael winked at her again. “We were talking about the mayor’s project in the clearing. Keliel wondered if we owned the Dread Forest land.”

  Lord Niriel’s face darkened. He turned to Keelie. “Elves have lived here for hundreds of years, long before men sliced up the land and sold it to each other. But we take care of our own. We own this forest, and many others. Each elven tribe is tied to their forest, and will die for it. We cannot be apart from our forest home for long.”

  “Then how does my dad travel to all the Ren Faires? How do you do it, Lord Niriel?” Keelie knew they spent the entire summer going from faire to faire.

  “Months are as days to us, you see. A summer is not a long time.”

  The passage of time was another thing that made her different from the elves. For her, a summer was a long time. How many would she have in her life? Eighty? Ninety? If she was lucky.

  Dad appeared at her side with an empty plate. He bowed to Etilafael and Niriel, then gave the plate to Keelie. “I bet you’re hungry.”

  She nodded. “A little.” She curtseyed to the two elves, which felt natural in her long gown. She hoped Grandmother was watching.

  Dad led her to the buffet table. She was grateful for his rescue, although talking about the forest had taken her mind off of Sean. The minute Dad had mentioned hunger she’d realized she was starving, but she wanted a huge order of spicy, tangy chicken wings and a bowl of creamy sauce to dip them in, not the rabbit food that was artfully arranged on platters on the table.

  “When we get home, you can have a little something else.”

  He’d gotten to know her well since they were reunited in Colorado. She was certain he hadn’t read her thoughts, since she’d been shielding her mind. As for his ability to communicate with
her mentally, well, she had to work extra hard to block that. She’d been using the little tektite amulet Sir Davey had given her, which guarded against most types of unwanted mental communication.

  “I hope Alora is still with the aunties. She wasn’t in my room. Not that I’m complaining.”

  “Yes, she’s safe with them. She’s a great responsibility, I agree.” He smiled and nodded at a group of chatting ladies as he led her toward the buffet table. “You are doing an excellent job of caring for her.”

  She was glad Alora was with the aunties, but there went her excuse to bail out early.

  With Dad at her side, Keelie was greeted with guarded hellos. Other elves nodded their heads in formal acknowledgement, and she returned the courtesy. Earlier today, Grandmother had given her a dusty book to read on elven culture, full of descriptions of formal gestures. The minute she passed the elves, their talk returned to the upcoming harvest festival as if she’d never existed.

  She spotted Sean and her heart started to beat with rapid hummingbird pulses. What would she do if he looked at her? She would not cry.

  But she felt tears thicken her throat, and she took a deep breath and bit into a celery stick, examining it closely as she chewed.

  From the edges of her vision she saw that Sean was walking toward her, smiling. He shone in the lamplight. Tall, blond, and handsome, he had been one of the jousters at her first Ren Faire, the kind of guy all the girls noticed. And he’d noticed her, Keelie.

  He’d wanted to spend time with her.

  He strode up to her, weaving in between elves until he was smiling down at her. The edges of his smile trembled a little, as if he were faking it. She wanted to run away.

  “Welcome to the Dread Forest.” A few hours ago, those words would have seemed like a promise.