by Kailin Gow
The guards rushed forward, piercing the snake's tail with their swords.
“Ow!” with a howl, the snake began to morph, transforming in a sickening shimmer into Wort once more, blood running through his foot.
Red blood.
“A Pixie in disguise!” cried Rodney. “I knew no fairy could be so ugly!”
“You won't escape this time,” muttered another soldier, as they rushed to bind Wort in chains.
The commotion gave me time to catch my breath. I had always known Wort to be slimy and untrustworthy – but a Pixie – able to glamor as only Pixies could? I shuddered. How close had I been to true danger this whole time...
Wort stood proudly. “I am a royal Pixie, half-brother to Delano. I am only trying to take back what was ours.”
Delano’s half-brother? So now Pixies were glamoured as fairies in Court? Wort had come to the Summer Court from Autumn, and now they were part of Summer. I looked around. How many Pixies were glamoured as fairies in my court?
“Put him in the cell,” I said, regaining my composure. “And don't let him out of your sight!”
The crowds began to cheer once more.
“I hereby declare that I have appointed a new adviser,” I said, trying to continue as if nothing had happened. “One who is loyal and true – and will serve the interests of the Summer Court always.” I held out my hand. “The Wolf, Logan, whose service to this land is unrivaled.
Logan looked shocked, but his expression of astonishment gave way quickly to surprise. “Gosh,” he said, blushing from the tip of his ears, “Thanks, Bree.”
“We're friends, right?” Kian or no Kian, I couldn't let my friendship with Logan go.
“Of course.”
Logan bowed deep.
“Furthermore,” I said, “I wish to elevate the rank of the brave knight Rodney, who has done so much for peace. You are now Sir Rodney, Duke of the Spring Pass!”
Rodney flushed and grinned too, although through his joy I could see the echoes of his pain All the dukedoms in the world could not make up for the loss of Shasta. I understood his feelings all too well. But there was no time for that.
“From now on,” I shouted, “the Summer Court will be a place of beauty – and of harmony – and of peace.”
I felt the crown – heavy and still glimmering – set upon my head. Nothing had ever felt so right in the world.
These were my people. This was my place, now. This was my home.
Chapter 17
We decided to celebrate our victory with a feast. The crowds in the streets had been cheering until the sun of Summer had set, and the streets were filled with dancers and singers, fairies rejoicing at the end of the war at last. They had been baying for the blood of the Winter Court not a few weeks ago – but my having returned with the Spring Pass to call our own had changed all that. As far as anyone in the Summer Court was concerned, the Summer fairies had won the war!
“You must hold a celebratory ball, Your Highness!” said Micah, one of Rodney's seconds-in-command. “You don't know how long your people have waited for a celebration like this one!”
“Generations,” agreed Rodney.
And so it was decided. Although my days of travel had left me feeling much more in the mood for a long bath and many hours of sleep than for an evening of dancing, it was decided that the Victory Ball would be held in the palace that very evening, and that all the fairies of the Summer Court were to be invited. How could I deny my people this celebration? As I recalled from the days before I knew I was a fairy royal, when I was researching mythology with Logan in the high school library, fairies loved celebrations…they loved music, art, and especially dancing. Celebrations were part of my people’s heritage.
It was strange walking around the Summer Palace as if, at last, I had come to own the place. The last few times I had visited, I had visited as somebody's prisoner: either as the literal prisoner of Redleaf, or as the virtual prisoner of Wort, who had seized my power with a bowl of kelpie soup. How insane. If Logan and I were back in Gregory, we would be laughing about the insanity of kelpie soup. My human side would laugh at how everything that happened to me in Feyland had actually happened. But it did, and it was real, as real as I was walking through the palace I had always dreamed about every night since I was a little girl.
I would be eating far tastier victuals than soup tonight, I promised myself, looking around at all the rooms that I could at last safely call my own. There was a ballroom shining with what looked like thousands of kinds of diamonds, hanging down in sparkling chains from the ceiling. There was a library filled with so many books that it would have taken my whole army of fairies a lifetime to read them all. There was a throne room and an antechamber and several banquet halls, each with tapestries depicting the rich history of Feyland in vibrant fairy silk and wool. And then there were my rooms – the private bedchamber of the Queen that Wort had taken to using since Redleaf's death, the study, the bathroom – with the largest, most delicious-looking marble bath I had ever seen – and the wardrobe.
As I opened the doors of the wardrobe, a flurry of fabric rushed past me. Red, blue, silver, and gold all appeared and then vanished before my eyes as a new option jostled to take its place. I lingered there a while, letting my fingers feel the smooth silk and the warm velvet, before deciding on an appropriately ceremonial gown of golden satin with a pink and orange trim – the colors of sunrise. It would represent a new beginning for the Summer Court, I decided; this would be the dawn of a golden age for our kingdom.
It had better be worth it, I thought as I put on the dress, feeling it magically fit to the contours of my body – more muscular and toned now from several weeks' riding. It had better be worth losing...
I couldn't even bear to think his name. I closed my eyes and smoothed down the folds of my dress. It was time to focus on the Ball at hand.
It was decided that Logan was to be my escort. When I appeared at the top of the stairs leading down to the Great Hall, I could see his sharp intake of breath, his slight blush.
“You look beautiful, Princess,” he said, bowing deeply.
He looked more handsome than I had ever seen him. At last finished with the work and turmoil that had characterized the last few days, he had shaved and trimmed his hair, his rugged charm smoothed out into something almost like elegance. He was not wearing the customary golden robes of the Summer Court, but rather a pelt of fur over his shoulders, the mark of a Wolf. In other times, werewolves might have been shunned in such a place of court, but he wore his tribal garb proudly.
“It is the pelt of a rival clan,” he said. “This wolf killed my grandfather, and my father avenged him. I wear it now.” Logan smiled. “I hope you don’t mind, but since your announcement, word has spread all over Feyland. There will be some of my clan here, wishing to pay tribute for this victory. And wanting to see the new Summer Queen and her adviser.”
“Logan,” I said, playfully touching his shoulder with my hand. “How can I mind? You’re part of the reason for this victory. I want to share this with you, for your loyalty, for your bravery, for always being there for me.”
“Is that why you made me your adviser,” Logan asked, his eyes hooded. “So I can always be there for you?” He paused. “You don’t have to make me the Adviser for that. I will always stick by you title or no title.” His eyes shone like stars as they expressed his joy at finally being accepted, finally finding a place by my side in Feyland.
He seemed more confident than ever, his animal prowess still clear even in his human form.
“Shall we dance?” Logan bowed deeply, and I couldn't help but curtsey as I allowed him to place his warm, strong hands around my frame and whisk me away across the floor. The music struck up a bright dance – not the fairy waltz, for I had made it clear that such a song would not be played tonight – but a lively folk dance that my feet seemed to know how to follow on their own.
We danced for what seemed like hours, and when at last the great
gong was struck and the banquet announced, we were all relieved to lighten our feet and load up our stomachs.
While servers came by with golden plates filled with roasted fairy vegetables, steaming pots of root soup, fresh warm bread, and colorful fruits from all over the Summer Kingdom; Logan pointed out the various members of the Wolf Fey, gathered in the ballroom, seated for the meal. They were in human form…men wearing the same tribal attire as Logan with a wolf pelt on the shoulder. Like Logan, they were tall, handsome, and tanned. “The Wolf Fey,” I said.
“Yes,” Logan said proudly. “I should’ve told you, Breena, but we’re not ordinary werewolves. Because we’re from Feyland, we’re touched by fey magic.”
“Are you fairies, then?” I asked.
“Originally, yes,” Logan said. “The original wolves were fairies who could transform into wolves. Having been going back and forth through the Land Beyond the Crystal River for generations upon generations, the Wolf Fey met and married too many humans to now have more human blood in them than fairy.”
“No wonder you and I have always felt this connection,” I said. “You have fairy blood and human blood, as I do.”
Logan nodded. “Of course I didn’t know that about you when we were five. I just knew you were the prettiest little girl I’ve ever seen and the nicest one. I just know that whenever we were together, it made me happy.”
I smiled at Logan, feeling closer than ever. His devotion warmed me. I was lucky to have him as a friend. Luckier still to have his love.
I caught a glimpse of Rodney glancing outside the ballroom out the window into the dark starry night. I could only guess what he was thinking of, and whom he was thinking of – Shasta. Since they were lovers, could they be communicating right now with their minds, sharing talks of impassioned love? Kian had said this was possible between lovers as long as the love was there, and it was returned. I couldn’t think of him now…it was too painful.
Rodney saw me looking at him and immediately smiled back. Despite his love for Shasta, he was a loyal Summer denizen. At least his family was here. I smiled as I saw Rose come up to him with a plate of food. An alchemist-in-training, a girl of my age. I was intrigued. From what Rose told me about Kelpie soup, the Summer Court would do well to have an alchemist in Court. Rose glanced over at me and smiled, and then she blushed as she glanced quickly to my side.
Logan sat at my side as server-fairies appeared, bowing as they poured us jug after jug of wine and brought out course after course, until our tables were laden with plates. Looking like the Wolf Prince, he had never looked more handsome, glowing with confidence and happiness.
“More wine, Your Highness?” asked one maid, with a familiar face. I laughed as I nodded her to go ahead, and she filled my goblet and Logan's before traipsing off.
We drank deeply. This was a different fairy wine to the one we had been drinking earlier – it was darker, stronger, with the harsh bittersweet taste of chocolate and thorny blackberries.
“More, please!” Logan said, downing the last of his goblet. “Let's get that maid back – where is she?”
I furrowed my brow looking for her, but I couldn't find her anywhere in the crowd.
Suddenly her face appeared to me again in my mind's eye. I had seen her before – but where? A memory flitted across my brain – a room, a chamber, Wort's leering grin, a bowl of kelpie soup...
Where had she gone?
I rose, but there was no sign of her. Suddenly, the room began to spin, and I felt my body begin to tremble and shake. I felt flushed.
“Are you okay?” Logan caught me, wrapping me in his arms.
When I turned to face him, it was as if I was seeing him for the first time. His eyes were darker, more piercing, filled with the animalistic longing I had for so long sensed in him. His cheekbones were sharp; his jaw was passionate. He was so handsome, so masculine. I had always thought he was gorgeous, but now he was brimming with sensuality rippling through his muscles, the way he smelled so intoxicatingly of musk.
“I'm fine,” I answered. Yet as we sat I could feel that Logan kept his arms around me, and I found that my hand, too, was resting upon his knee.
I stopped. There was something I had been worried about a moment earlier – something about a maid, a face I had seen before, something that had worried me...but I had forgotten it now. The room was still spinning, but all that mattered was the beating of my heart, faster and faster now, and the beating of Logan's heart – echoing in my ears, and the electric touch that connected us.
“Logan?” I whispered.
“Breena!” He looked at me, his eyes more full of longing and desire than I had ever seen them. How had I ignored them for so long? How could any girl resist his powerful might, his charms?
I wanted him. My heart thundered within me and my breath grew shallow; I could feel his hands linger upon my knee, brushing lightly higher upon my thigh.
The music was still playing loudly; diners were beginning to get up and dance, taking part in a second round of revelry, but all I could hear was the twinned sound of our two heartbeats, our two desires.
Wasn't there something I was forgetting? A memory – as far away as an echo of a dream – leaped out at me: a vision of a boy with blue eyes and black hair, a prince with shimmering armor and a promise of eternal love. But such a vision seemed to be little more than smoke from a long-gone fire, a ghostly gossamer that appeared and then vanished before my mind could properly adjust. No, there was nothing else, nothing that mattered except the pulsing, pounding force within me, my desire for Logan – my love.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Logan murmured, his voice making the hairs on my neck stand on edge.
We rose quickly and stumbled through the throng – the bright dancers, the grinning drummers, the raising after raising of goblets of wine – our hands intertwined as we raced through the palace, in search of somewhere we could be alone, somewhere we could give in...
“Here!” I whispered, as we reached my bedchamber. In haste we unlocked the door; in even faster haste we locked it again. No sooner had the key turned in the bolt than Logan was kissing me, letting his desire spread through me, consuming me, overpowering me. And I wanted him too, my desire for him so strong that I felt it must have existed always – a desire that tasted strongly of chocolate, and thorny blackberries, and wine.
“I love you, Breena,” Logan murmured. “I've always loved you. I've wanted you for so long, so much.”
“I love you too,” I was saying, swooning into him, spinning down onto the bed with the room spinning all around me.
And then Logan was on the bed too, beside me, his body warm and pulsing beside me, his heat overpowering me, his mouth fused to mine.
And as we kissed, and he slipped the satin from my shoulders, I felt within me a cry of pain, a telepathic stab of agony that coursed through me and made me shudder – an image of a prince in a silver castle, tearing at his hair, crying out to the cold and unlistening wind.
But I did not know him. I did not remember him. A distant memory. And so I put the image out of my mind, and closed my eyes, and let the magic of the night overtake me.
Chapter 18
That night I slept soundly, but in my sleep there was a dream – a fitful dream of men and women I did not know, or could only just remember, and when I woke up I woke up screaming and gasping for breath, and even Logan could not comfort me. That night, and for many nights after that, I dreamed again and again of that strange boy who flitted across my thoughts. As time passed I remembered who he was – he was Prince Kian, and we had known each other once, or had we? He and I had worked together to broker peace. Had we been involved? I couldn't remember – or perhaps we had been, but somehow whenever my mind tried to reach him, to remember what it was about Prince Kian that gave me these nightmares, the thoughts would vanish, the way shadows vanish at the very presence of light. I tried to talk to Logan about these dreams, these strange thoughts – these memories that seemed so impo
rtant and yet so gossamer, so constantly out of my reach – but it was no use. He had no more memory than I did of these strange events. In any case, I had much to think about, and the upcoming Peace Treaty Summit with the Crown Prince, his mother the Snow Queen of the Winter Court more than preoccupied my thoughts.
Wort was now in the Summer Prison with the rest of the dissenters, whom Logan and I had weeded out, awaiting his trial and final magical banishment from Feyland altogether. Logan and Rodney had together begun training the army for new strategies – abandoning war in favor of a stronger defense strategy and more attention paid to the Pixie lands. If Wort and Delano were anything to go by, the Pixies were our greatest enemies now.
And yet, for all the joy that the Peace Treaty brought to me and my Court, my greatest happiness was the time I spent with Logan. We were in the Summer Gardens, the one with an intricate maze built of summer rose bushes of every shade, walking hand in hand when he turned to me under the white blossoms of the fragrant orange trees, got on one knee, and presented me with a ring forged from gold and diamonds. In the center were diamonds cut into small clusters that formed a crescent moon…the symbol of the Wolf Fey. For wolves from Feyland were touched by fey magic.
“Breena,” Logan said. “I’ve loved you for all my life. I’ve never loved anyone or anything more than I love you. We have been together for so long, and I know you as well as I know myself. You are part of me, and I am part of you. Without you, I would not be complete.” Logan’s lips quivered with emotion. “Please say you will marry me, Breena.”
My hands trembled as Logan placed the ring on my finger, and I stared into his big dark eyes, filled with longing and love. I could not think of anyone I loved more. There had always been Logan, only him. “Yes,” I said, reaching up to kiss him. “I love you so much!” His eyes shone with such love and happiness as his face bent down to kiss me.
We had announced our relationship to the Court publicly within a few days, announcing a Royal Engagement that sent the people of Feyland into a state of shock and scandal. No Fairy Queen had ever married a Werewolf before – and yet so overjoyed were the fairies by their latest victory against the Winter Court that I could have married a Pixie himself and been able to get away with it. It is a new age – the fairies cried. There is peace now! Things are different!
