by L. K. Rigel
Greg climbed out of the limo, his wife already gone from his sight, flitted off to play with others of her kind. She had never loved him, not even a teeny, tiny bit. Didn’t love anyone. From what he could tell, as a rule the fae didn’t. Love, that is.
The spring breeze played with his hair, flirtatious and sensual, the only gentle caress he’d felt in ages. He huffed out a short, ironic laugh at himself and walked on, over the small rise covered in green grass, and on to the pantomime. He had a minuscule part to play, barely a line or two left to deliver.
IV. Lilith
“Max, you were right. They came.” Lilith watched a band of half a dozen new guests arrive. They looked like they belonged to each other, all extremely well dressed in designer clothes out of GQ or Vanity Fair. By their expressions, they considered this affair beneath themselves.
Lilith recognized two of their member right away: Jenna Sarumen and her father. Not so long ago Lilith had envied Jenna her charmed life, not knowing the truth of what she and her family were. “I hope they aren’t here to cause trouble.”
“They risk the high gods’ wrath if they do,” Max said. “They’re here by Cissa’s invitation. They can’t breach a queen’s hospitality.”
“It would seem rank has its privileges even in fae,” Lilith said. “Great gods. I know that man, the human trailing behind them.” It was Greg. He looked… pathetic. She silently thanked the high gods for having escaped him.
Cade had yet to notice the appearance of his adversary, but she wasn’t concerned. They’d decided to take as little notice of the Sarumens today as possible. Wrong place, wrong time for corporate battle. He had squatted down beside Lexi’s cot, and they were having a nonsensical conversation. As if concerned for her father’s mental well-being, Lexi’s eyebrows knitted up. She kissed her palm and pressed it against Cade’s cheek and laughed.
Watching her husband and daughter play, Lilith relaxed. “I’m sorry everyone’s disappointed Lexi hasn’t visited the faewood,” she said to Max. “But a hundred years might pass while she was there.”
“The ones who matter will visit in the human realm,” Max said. “The others will be satisfied with seeing her here at the gifting.”
“A fae gifting.” She was still uneasy about the concept.
“There’s nothing to fear.” Max said. “The fae adore children, and your daughter is of the queen’s own blood. They would never hurt her.”
The queen again. So impersonal. So distant. Lilith was pretty sure Max liked Cissa. Loved her, even.
“None of their presents will be so unwieldy as mine,” he said. “Or as tangible.”
“What do you mean, tangible?”
“I’ve heard the leprechauns are giving her a pair of grow-booties. They’re the most dangerous gift coming that I know about.”
“Grow-booties?”
“Baby booties that will never fall apart. They’ll grow as Lexi grows, and change to whatever style suits the day. Their charm—”
“Indestructibility and adaptation not being at all magical?” Lily smiled.
“To the leps, those are run-of-the-mill qualities in baby shoes. Not good enough for the queen’s only heir. The charm in Lexi’s pair is that as long as she wears them she’ll never take a wrong step or fall.”
“That sounds good. Why do you frown?”
“One person’s charm is another’s curse. If the child never falls, she’ll never learn to rise.”
“Ah, I understand you.”
“The other presents will be ephemeral and benign. Beauty, kindness, grace, good fortune, the ability to dance, to tell a good joke.”
“Nice, sparkly, fairy things,” Lily said.
“Just so.”
“Those gifts I don’t fear. But I worry about unintended consequences.” Lily stopped. “Max, when I went to Avalos for Mistcutter, I met someone there. He was unlike anyone. Not human, not any kind of fae.”
“Velyn of the fallen.”
“Yes. He said he’d known me in my past life as Igraine. It was he who told me about my and Cade’s reincarnation. I asked him if he’d ever seen heaven, and he said he’d seen the highest heaven. The highest god. Max, I believe Velyn is a fallen angel.”
Max nodded but said nothing.
“Lexi was christened last week. I never believed in such things before, but now… I do.”
“I don’t believe a christening would offend the high gods. Quite the contrary, in fact.”
“But Morning Glory told me the gifting is meant to counteract the magic in the christening. That’s how she put it.”
“Not counteract. Leave it to your mother to be overdramatic. Balance might be a better word.”
“Balance. My mother is a fairy. My husband’s aunt is the fairy queen. You’re not the first to tell me how the fae love children. Every morning, I wake to the fear I’ll find a changeling left in Lexi’s place. I doubt I’ll ever have balance in my life again.”
“There’s no need to fear the Dumnos fae, but the others…” Max glanced about, his gaze resting briefly on the Sarumen. “Living in the human realm, she’ll be exposed. Fae of other courts may cross her path in this realm, and you know not all fae are sweetness and light. But on one thing, let me set your mind at ease. The yew bed is imbued with a protection charm. Lexi will always sleep there safe from harm.”
“Oh, Max, thank you!” Lilith threw her arms around the gob and kissed his cheek, then said, “I’ll keep that piece of information from the vicar.”
“I take it he’s being a good sport about the whole business?”
“He’d never last in Dumnos if he wasn’t, but we didn’t tell him about today. No need to freak him out any more than necessary.”
Lilith looked uneasily at Marion and Ian, Sharon and Jimmy, and Cammy and Bella. She wished she hadn’t told any humans about today at all. The only one she really wanted here—Beverly, for Cade’s sake—hadn’t shown up.
V. Max
“Attention! Attention, everyone!” Queen Narcissus called out. “Everybody, it’s time to do presents!”
Ever since she accepted the moonstick crown in Prince Dandelion’s place, the sparkle of fun had gone out of Cissa’s eyes… until today. When Max had arrived at the lake, she was already there, flitting about, happily directing the brownies where to put the walnut shell cot, calling the butterflies to surround the Temple of Joy and Wonder, and laughing with the pixies as they played catch with the leprechauns’ hats.
When she saw Max, she’d called his name and flown to him on a breeze, smiling so brightly that he’d had to catch his breath. She had taken hold of his hands and spun him around and kissed his cheek. When she pulled away, his heart had soared.
She was wearing the emerald necklace. The one she’d stolen from his cottage so very long ago, before the days of the curse. It wasn’t close to the best thing Max had ever made, but to him it was the dearest, a symbol of what might have been.
“I know.” She’d caught him looking and fingered the stones self-consciously. “It’s not nearly as pretty as anything you’ve ever given me. But it’s special. I’m wearing it today for a reason. Just wait—you’ll see.”
And she’d flown off to break up a fight between a particularly wayward pixie and the leprechaun Horace.
As the guests arrived, Cissa had greeted them personally, all enthusiasm and fun. But with each arrival, the happiness went out of her voice and the light in her eyes dimmed. She kept searching the crowds as if hoping to find someone, but apparently the someone never came.
Cissa’s happiness, which had filled his heart with delight, eventually drained away like spilled champagne seeping into the ground. Now with brave demeanor and forced gaiety, she performed her duty, calling everyone together to witness the gifting.
The leprechauns’ booties were graciously received by the forewarned Lily.
Horace, looking fine in a sea-green jacket, white and gold waistcoat, and floppy pink satin hat, popped in at the foot of the cot and wobbled a step before he
gained his balance. No one noted his crabby red face and glowering black eyebrows. All were drawn to the tiny pair of pale pink satin shoes on his open, outstretched palm.
“They’ll never scuff or wear out, my lord.” The leprechaun addressed Cade and Lily just as Max had overheard him practicing earlier. “And, my lady, they’ll never get dirty. The shoes will adapt to the little girl’s need. At the moment, they’re lovely baby slippers. But they’ll grow and change as Lady Lexi grows and changes. One day, walking shoes. Another day hiking boots. One night diamond stiletto heels fit for her first ball.”
The humans sighed and smiled, thoughts of fairy tales writ large on their faces.
“Notice the excellent workmanship,” Horace continued. “While Lady Lexi wears our slippers, she will always be the epitome of grace and decorum.”
Morning Glory let loose a guffaw. She cried out, “Decorum, decorum, Hy Kokolorum!” and spun up into the air, tossing exploding fairy dust over the guests.
Lexi laughed. Satisfied, Horace lost his scowl and flitted over to the refreshments table.
The pixies were on their best behavior, sworn not to steal the leprechauns’ hats. So far so good, but anyone with an eye could see their resolve was weakening. They gave Lexi the ability to tell a good joke. Max grunted his approval and winked at Lily. Only a curmudgeon could object to that. He wasn’t ready to be called a curmudgeon yet.
The wisps popped in, three together, and in unison whispered their gift. “Little Lady Lexi will hear lovely birdsong whenever she desires.”
“How lovely,” Lily said.
The brownies gave the ability to feel good cheer and find happiness in all things. While they were still accepting Cade and Lily’s thanks, someone in the back ostentatiously cleared his throat.
“If I may be so bold.” Stepping forward, Prince Logan of the Edmos fae pushed a couple of leprechauns out of his way. He gave Cade and Lily a short bow while leering sideways at Queen Narcissus.
Max stood up on his toes and surveyed the crowd. Where was Dandelion? Together they could haul the wanker out of here. Seriously, it might be worth unleashing a spell to get rid of the Scots tosser.
“The Edmos fae give Lady Lexi grace and charm,” the fairy said. “Though the little lady may never need the extra boost if she takes after her lovely aunt.”
Great-aunt, bounder. Max didn’t like this guy at all. He was ready to do something about it when a fairy of the Tuatha Dé Danaan leaped forward, joined by another, then another, nudging the Edmos fop out of the way. This could go well… or not. The three Irish were joined by three more, and Max shifted his focus, on the alert.
Then the Irish fairies broke into a raucous céilí dance. The Dumnos fae shouted approval and quickly produced fiddle, drum, fife, and flute and more to accompany the wild gyrations of the Tuatha Dé Danaan.
“Yeeah!”
“Whooo!”
Her other gifts already in working order, Lexi erupted in belly laughs to tickle the heart of the grumpiest goblin, and Max’s foot tapped in time to the tune. The dance ended abruptly, and amid the whistles and applause the strangest-looking of the dancers approached Lexi’s cot.
“If you remember Ireland when you dance, darling girl, we wouldn’t mind at all at all, for a light step to match your sweet light heart is our gift to you.” He bowed low to the child, and she patted his blond curls.
The six dancers turned as one and bent the knee to Cissa. “Good-bye, your majesty,” said their leader, and with respectful nods and twinkles in their eyes they popped out.
When the fairy dust cleared, in the vacated spot, a woozy fairy stumbled and very nearly fell, but righted himself at the last moment.
“Hmph,” Max grunted and glared at the treesap.
The human who looked like Lydia Pengrith—but wasn’t—cried, “It’s you!”
“Oh, dear.” Cissa was suddenly at Max’s side, her eyes huge and her hand on his shoulder, as if she would draw strength from him. “I didn’t think Aubrey would have the nerve to show up today.”
Max wanted to reassure her, cover her lovely fingers with his own gnarly digits, and pat her hand tenderly. But he couldn’t defile such loveliness.
Aubrey belched.
VI. Cissa
Warily, Cissa watched Aubrey steady himself against Lexi’s cot. He was cleaned up and dressed in his favorite garb: white linen artist’s blouse open to his navel, skintight black satin trousers, black boots with silver buckles. His hair was wild as always, but held to a kind of spiky coherence. Still, she didn’t trust him.
She scanned the enraptured crowd, all gathered close. There was no one at the temple, no one at the sacred lake. Sacred Lake. That’s what Dandelion called it these days. No doubt he’d learned the name from Beverly. Through the millennia, the lake had gone by several names.
Sacred Lake.
Nine Hazel Lake.
Lake of the Lady.
Cissa liked Lake of the Lady best. Sacred Lake sounded silly. Something a human would call it, born of some sad longing for the divine. Why could they not see? The divine was everywhere. Everything was sacred.
Even Aubrey, the treesap.
She played with her necklace, more depressed than she cared to admit. Her plan had worked, but it hadn’t succeeded. All the courts had sent delegations, but her prince was nowhere among them. It felt like her spell had worked, but he wasn’t here. She caught Max glancing her way, and they shared a look of commiseration as Aubrey launched into his act.
The rogue fairy turned slowly and dramatically surveyed the guests. His violet eyes glistened with Aubrey-style mischief. Dangerous mischief.
Cissa stomped her foot at his even being here. Horrified, she watched as the Edmos fae pointed and laughed and poked each other’s ribs. The London fae watched in stony, superior silence. If they weren’t still waiting to deliver their gift, she was sure they’d leave now in disgust.
The humans gasped in wonder and admiration. It was true, Cissa had to admit. Even in his reduced state, Aubrey exuded an irresistible magnetic sensuality.
What is he doing here? Scandalized whispers rippled over the lawns among the Dumnos fae. Idris’s lapdog; has he no shame?
He reached again for the cot’s side, unsteady on his feet. He winked at Max, but the gob would have none of it. Under his breath Max muttered, “Treesap.” The oath warmed Cissa’s heart.
Everyone was on their toes, leaning forward, a little afraid and a lot curious. Aubrey gave the child an elaborate bow but seemed to get stuck in the bent-over position. Cissa nearly started forward to deal with him when he managed to right himself again.
“Li’ Lady Lethie.” His tongue seemed too big for his mouth. “Ev’body’s bes’ bluv’d.”
“He’s drunk!” A sprite popped in and perched on Max’s other shoulder. “Queen Narcissus is going to be so mad!” The sprite clapped his hands with glee.
Cissa was mad. Furious. Why hadn’t Dandelion come? She squeezed Max’s shoulder, grateful that he was there. He’d handle Aubrey if the fairy went too far.
“Ev’body gave you some swell stuff, eh, Lethie?” Aubrey said to the baby. “I have a gif’ too. ’smuch… so much better. You’re gonna lof it.”
Uh-oh.
Lexi was spellbound. Not literally—it was highly unlikely Aubrey had the wherewithal in his state to accomplish that. But she was fascinated by him, no denying it. Her eyes were bright with interest, and she giggled one of those darling baby chortles that delighted Cissa’s fae heart. As if they were kindred spirits, the child locked gazes with the drunken treesap, as Max would say.
“I give you… freedom,” Aubrey said. “Wonder! A sense of adventure. Curiosity. Joie de vivre!”
Well. Cissa let out a sigh of relief and heard it echoed by Max—and Goldy, who had come to stand on her other side, and Morning Glory beside Goldy.
“That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” Goldy said. “Wonder, curiosity?”
“Curiosity.” Cissa fingered the emeralds a
t her throat. She pictured her prince charming and remembered the sizzle of his kiss. “Not so bad.”
Lexi held on to the side of her cot and bounced, gazing adoringly at the very bad fairy.
“Voilà!” Aubrey bowed to Lord and Lady Bausiney and shot a sideways look at Cissa. “Don’t spill any fairy dust over me, my queen.” He stood erect. “I’m leaving. Going back to the Blue Vale. Yes, tha’s where I’ve been all this time. In Goblinville. Sleeping in cold mushroom patches and warm doorways, hoping for a ladygob’s tender mercy.”
He winked at Max. Max grunted.
“Aye, shudder all you like, ya great hypocrites,” Aubrey went on. “There’s more love in the ugliest ladygob than ever there was chairdee in the most booful fairy.”
He blew a kiss to the guest of honor. “Haf a good life, little Lady Lexi. Enjoy your gifs.”
He popped out.
His residue took a few seconds to dissipate, and then there was no sign he’d ever been there. No sign but one.
“Sun and moon, what did he do to her?” A human woman with peacock feathers in her hair pointed at Lexi. Gasps rippled through all the guests, human and fae.
The child let go with another big belly laugh. Her eyes were bright, glittering—and unmistakably violet. As violet as Aubrey’s. Cissa didn’t know what it meant, but it scared her.
“Enough!” A cool female voice sliced through all the speculative mumbling. With the crisp sound of a fan expertly unfolded, Jenna of the Sarumen sprouted her wings and flew to the cot in a whoosh.
Cissa caught her breath. The Sarumen’s wings were thrilling to see, dark and metallic gray-green, oozing of power.
Jenna spread her fingers, her hands over Lexi’s head. “The gift of the Sarumen,” she said. “We relieve you, sweet Lady Lexi, of the pain and suffering of childhood. By summer’s end you’ll reach childhood’s end and be a lady full grown.”
“No!”
“Take it back!”
Cries came from all who loved the little girl. Lily and Cade, Max, Goldy, Morning Glory, the humans, all the Dumnos fae. Cissa even heard the word no charge out of her own mouth.
Thirteen! She realized this was the thirteenth gift, bound to go wrong. She hated that number! They should have stopped at twelve.
