Fae Flower

by Michelle R. Reid

  Uncle Fergus’s face wrinkled as he squinted at us. “You mean, a little Fae only a foot tall did that?” He pointed back at the pile of woods and broken glass, disbelief etched on his weathered face.

  I nodded.

  “How did you get out alive?” he asked, his doubt reflected on the faces of the other men around us.

  The ranch hands looked from Mama, a woman seemingly so young, then up to Uncle Fergus, easily twenty years her senior. This always happened any time there was something odd or a Fae was involved. Grandpapa clearly willed Deaglan Ranch to Papa then down to Heath. Now that Papa was gone, Mama was the head of the family until Heath was married. But that didn’t stop my aunt and uncle from trying to run over top of her.

  “I ran into a Sun Fae, and he got rid of the Red Caps,” I quickly supplied.

  “Sun Fae?” Uncle Fergus’s narrow eyes widened in alarm. He squinted at Mama, harsh lines folding on his face. “There are no Sun Fae in this area.”

  Mama shrugged, spreading her hands wide. “It’s as she said. Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean that it isn’t there.”

  Doubt was still obvious on all their faces, except Heath’s. But some were torn on what to believe. The words of Uncle Fergus, the only living son left of Grandpapa, or Mama’s and my words. The crazy, Fae-loving women in the family.

  “Either way,” Heath said, drawing everyone’s attention. “We need to clean up the road before anyone else comes by. Sean, take a couple men and get a new wagon.” My cousin nodded without hesitation, motioned to the men beside him, and rode off. “The rest of you help the women sort out the mess.” Heath pointed at the pile of wood. “It looks like there’s broken glass in there, be sure not cut yourself. Salvage any bottles that aren’t broken.”

  Despite Heath being one of the younger men in the group, the rest of them followed his direction. Even Uncle Fergus turned his horse and ambled toward the broken wagon. I loved that steady quality about him and the evenness of his voice that left no questions. It was something he’d learned from Papa, and the reason why Uncle Fergus wasn’t able to step in when Papa died. Everyone knew that Uncle Fergus was a poor businessman and would run the ranch into the ground if he were in charge.

  Heath tapped our backs with his large hands. “Come on.” He jerked his head to the road. “Let’s see if any of the tonics survived. And you can tell me more about what happened.” He took the reins of his horse and we started to walk.

  I quickly recounted what happened, then shook my head. “But I don’t know why. I’ve never met a Red Cap before, so when did I have time to insult them?” I glanced at Mama. Her face was smooth, her eyelashes hiding her eyes. I huffed, recognizing that expression. She didn’t want to talk about it. “Now you have to tell me what Claira thought of the flowers. Marabell and I put a lot of thought into those. I made sure there were enough daffodils to help with the loving feeling, since I couldn’t get any apple blossoms.”

  Marabell folded her arms and gave a smart nodded.

  Heath’s ears turned red at the mention of his fiancé’s name. “She liked the flowers,” he muttered, kicking at the tall grass.

  I grinned, enjoying his embarrassment as Marabell clapped her hands in happiness.

  Mama smiled gently. “Has she settled on the flowers she wants for the bouquet? There’s only four days left,” Mama reminded him.

  He took a deep breath then bobbed his head in a nod. “She likes the daffodils.”

  Mama nodded slowly. “That’s a good choice. They are in full bloom now and would look lovely with her dark hair.” She smiled and reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so glad this is working out for you. I can’t explain how relieved this makes me.”

  He nodded. “Thank you. Me too.”

  We got to the pile of wood. Some of the rubble had already been organized by the men, revealing the mess our precious cargo was reduced to. The smell of herbs and flowery oils hung heavy in the air as months of hard work seeped into the ground. Broken bottles winked back sunlight between wooden pieces as their precious contents colored the ground.

  I sighed and pushed some hair behind my ears. “I don’t think we’re going to save very much.”

  Chapter 4

  With most of our excess supply of tonics smashed, Mama and I had to start all over. While Heath directed the men in the disposing of the ruined wagon and last-minute ranch jobs before nightfall, Mama and I went around the back of the house to our garden.

  It had grown over the years, now spanning the entire length of our house and just as deep, with a low fence around it, even though the animals never bothered it. They seemed to know these plants were special. One of a kind. The only garden in the human world with Fae plants in it. They might look the same as normal plants, but each one held the magic of the Fae inside it, making these plants more potent than any human plant. That’s why our tonics were as effective as they were. A normal human plant wouldn’t produce the same results ours did.

  The garden was our pride and glory.

  Most of our dried materials were used in our last push to make as many tonics as we could before the summer market. Now that all of our surplus was gone, we didn’t have the luxury of time to make more. There was no telling when a neighbor would come to us, needing help.

  Mama rolled up the sleeves of her dress and took a pair of shears off the hook on the fence post. “Let’s get some plants drying.” She glanced up at the sun, already sinking through the trees. “If we hurry, we can get a fair amount ready before sundown.” She sighed, not immune to the daunting feeling of starting over from scratch. She handed the shears to me. “I’ll go assess the supplies we have in the house and figure out what we need to purchase tomorrow. I’ll need you to do the cutting, please. Marabell, will you look through the plants and help Kyna select which ones are ready to be picked?”

  We agreed and separated into our jobs.

  I rolled up my sleeves and dropped to my knees next to the nearest plant. I gently ran my fingers over the flowers, feeling for the sprigs that were ready to be cut. My finger touched a flower that seemed to vibrate and tingle under my skin, indicating that it was willing to help my cause. From the other side of the garden, Marabell hummed a tinkling Fae jig as she drifted through the garden.

  I had barely cut a few sprigs of dog flower when a boot crunched the ground nearby, stopping just outside the garden fence. I looked up, expecting Mama.

  A tall man stood at the edge of our garden. With the setting sun behind him and a wide brim hat on his head, it was hard to see his face. All I could tell was that he was almost as old as Uncle Fergus. Even so, I could feel his stare on my skin like oil. His long coat made him appear taller than he was and cast a long shadow over my garden.

  Marabell’s song disappeared. I didn’t have to look to know she was hiding under a plant.

  I put on a smile. “Hello. If you’re looking for a tonic, I’m afraid we’re out. You’ll have to come back later.” Preferably during the day. There was something … off about him.

  The man raised a long, bony hand and waved. “No, I already got what I needed.” It wasn’t until his coat shifted with his movements that I realized there was a Far Darrig Fae tucked into his breast pocket.

  The fading sun revealed how the little Fae’s unkempt hair was clumped together and falling into his black eyes. Its large nose seemed to point its entire face, giving it a rat-like appearance. Tiny sharp fingers gripped the lining of the pocket, and it peered over. If there was one Fae I didn’t want to see on a human, it was a Far Darrig. Nasty things, with a habit of playing pranks — usually harmful ones. They were best left alone in the forest where the other Fae could control them. Yet this man carried one in his pocket like a pet.

  It never ceased to amaze me how humans could so casually enslave Fae. Another living being. Didn’t they know how happily humans and Fae could live together? Marabell was as much a part of my family as I was — by her choice. We cared for her and she cared for
us.

  “What a fascinating garden,” the man observed. “It looks like your little Bell Fae slave does a marvelous job for you.”

  I opened my mouth to assure him that Marabell wasn’t a slave, but something stopped my tongue. Honestly, I didn’t want him to give her any more attention than he already had. “Thank you,” I said, slowly. I’d have to apologize to her later, when he was gone.

  “It’s nothing.” The man waved it off. “Pearse McReilly’s my name. I just wanted to get the name of the girl who made such wonderful tonics. They help these old bones.” He opened his palm, inviting me to answer.

  I didn’t really want to, but I finally managed a tight smile. “Kyna.” And left it as that.

  “Miss Kyna, pleasure to meet you. Well, I best be off.” He turned.

  He was already leaving? Why had he come to begin with? I stared at his back, remembering what was kept in the front pocket. “Wait!” I called out.

  He stopped and looked back.

  I reached into my pocket, hoping I still had something there from the summer market. There was only one coin hiding in the folds of material. I grabbed it out, hoping that it wasn’t a bronze piece. I held it out on my palm, the silver metal reflecting the setting sun. Even if this Fae was awful, no Fae should ever be a slave. “I’d like to buy your Far Darrig,” I said, determined to free any Fae I could. Even if it meant I had a Far Darrig on my property for a short while, until I could convince it to go away.

  All I had was a silver piece — more than enough for a Far Darrig. Most people couldn’t wait to get rid of them.

  Even so, an annoyed sound rumbled from behind his closed lips. Quickly, he cleared his throat and shook his head. “I’m afraid not, little lass.” His voice was even, almost light, as if he’d never been angry. “This is a very special thing to me.” He patted his pocket, flattening the Far Darrig with each pat. “Good night.” With that, he turned and walked away.

  I watched him go, trying to figure out if I was more disappointed that he didn’t give me the Far Darrig or more glad that he was gone.

  *****

  The next morning, I’d barely started to work in the garden when the plant next to me began to shake. I backed up a pace, wary. Tiny hands split the leaves apart and a tiny gnome emerged, large pointed ears barely holding his hat in place.

  He planted his feet, folded his arms, and glared at me.

  My eyebrows shot up. “Good morning,” I said.

  “This is my garden. Leave, human.”

  I sat back on my heels. Such a declaration wasn’t unheard of, after all, there were some very precious plants in this garden, even for Fae standards. “This is my garden,” I began, unamused. “You’re welcome to use it, as long as you are kind to everything and everyone in it. Humans and Fae alike.”

  He stomped his foot, but there was nothing he could do about it. Fae plants didn’t grow for someone they didn’t belong to, so stealing them was useless. “I said this garden was mine!” His tiny hands fisted and his face started to turn red.

  I frowned. I’d run into a lot of negative Fae lately. It was becoming annoying.

  A shadow fell over me, long and tall as someone came to stand behind me.

  Before I could react, the gnome let out a squeak of fright. He turned and dove through the herbs. A second later, he hopped over the lowest board of the fence and vanished into the cow pastures.

  Chapter 5

  Had the creepy man returned? Feeling something close to dread, I looked over my shoulder.

  Aedan stood behind me, glaring at the place where the gnome had disappeared. His bright orange hair was wind tossed, swept back from his handsome face. He wore a cream-colored tunic and pants, with a golden jacket decorated with white embroidery, all made of fine Fae Silk. A cape, dark red on the inside and cream on the back, cascaded over his shoulders and stopped at his knees.

  “Aedan,” I said in surprise, then paused. “Or is it Prince Aedan?”

  He gave me an odd look as if he never thought of that before. “My friends just call me Aedan.”

  He looked around the ranch, taking in the cows milling in their pastures and my kin on horses, rounding up the ones that needed to move. It was amazing how the sun gleamed off his hair, like real fire. His guarded expression loosened. For a moment, he looked almost boyish, fascinated with the human world around him.

  I smiled at him. “Can I be your friend, too?”

  He blinked out of his thoughts and stared at me as I sat surrounded by my plants. “I’ve never had a human friend before.”

  My smile turned into a full grin. “Then I can be your first.” I tucked one of my stray strands of hair back behind my ear. “Actually, most of my friends are Fae.” I shrugged as I ran my fingers over the flowers, feeling out the ones that were ready to be cut. “I tend to get along better with them than I do with my own kind. I mean,” I glanced at Aeden, “I get along great with everyone. But for some reason, I just feel more at ease with Fae. I know what to expect from them.”

  I turned to a flower as the bud grew warm in my hand, indicating it was willing to be cut. “Sometimes I think I am as odd of a human as everyone else seems to think I am,” I whispered. I’d never admitted that aloud before. An embarrassed blush seared my cheeks, and I peeked at Aeden. “Ah, sorry. That was just … rambling.”

  He gave a small smile and crouched down in the dirt next to me, fancy clothes and all. “No, I actually understand that. I sometimes feel the same when I’m with my mother’s people. It feels almost odd; a Sun Fae, the prince of a Frost Fae kingdom.”

  I blinked at him. “Your mother is Frost Fae?” I had been picturing a beautiful Fae with golden hair and eyes as fiery as Aedan’s.

  He smiled with pride. “Queen Aysla. She’s the most beautiful Fae in the world. Like a diamond sparkling in the sun, radiating light as she walks.”

  My head tilted to the side, confused. It was possible for a Snow Fae and Sun Fae to have kids together? Well, I guess a Fae is a Fae. Apparently, it didn’t matter to them, so it shouldn’t matter to me.

  He looked at the flower under my fingers and blinked. Quickly, he reached out and ran his fingers over the Faeweed leaves. “This is a Sun Fae plant. I’ve never seen it outside of Lasair,” he muttered in surprise. “And it’s still alive. How did you get it?” He looked around the rest of the garden, as though seeing the plants for the first time. “Most of these are Fae plants.”

  I never knew Faeweed was a Sun Fae plant.

  “Our garden is open to all Fae. Anyone willing to come here is welcome to all our plants, they just have to bring something — usually a flower — to trade,” I explained. “But some, like the Faeweed, Mama has had since before I was born.”

  Aeden nodded slowly and glanced at the simple log building that made my house. “And I’m sure the magic around your house was acquired the same way? I see gnome, Bell Fae, Pixie, and even a Dark Fae’s magic. It’s quite the fortress.”

  I turned and stared at it too. Fortress? What was he talking about? It looked the same as it had my whole life. A simple rectangle structure with a small living space in the middle, my parents’ bedroom on one side and mine and Heath’s on the other. There was nothing magical about it at all.

  I frowned and looked back at Aeden. “Why are you here?” I asked. Was he looking for more payment?

  “To understand my father,” he muttered quietly, as if he was talking to himself.

  My head tilted to the side. “What? What would I know about your father?”

  His lips curved up as he gave a half laugh and shook his head. “I’m also here about this.” He reached into the folds of his Fae cloak and pulled out the tonic I’d given him yesterday. He held it up in the sunlight, making the liquid inside gleam. It was half empty now — he’d actually used it. “It’s a Sun Fae recipe. Where did you get it?”

  So that was Sun Fae too. I looked at the ground, a small ache forming in my chest. “It’s Mama’s recipe. She’s always said it was specia
l. I’m the only other one who knows how to make it. And the only one allowed to tend our plants.”

  Growing up, I’d asked why she didn’t teach more people. She always shook her head and simply said that other humans couldn’t do it. It’s something I never questioned before. What Mama said was truth. But why would she keep so many things from me?

  Aedan frowned long and hard. Slowly, his gaze drifted over my face, down to my hands then back to my eyes, just like Mama’s. “I see,” he muttered. “You look a lot like your mother.”

  I smiled with pride. “We even share the same birthday. Just twenty-one years apart.”

  He nodded, mildly interested.

  “And your father is the Sun Fae king? What’s he like?” I was burning to ask how Mama knew his father, but it felt wrong to pry into Mama’s business behind her back.

  “He’s like the sun,” Aedan said softly. “So strong and bright, brimming with power. Steady and fair, as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.” He frowned at the plants and ran the tips of his long fingers lightly down the stem of the closest plant. “He’s a mystery to me,” he admitted, spinning the tonic bottle around in his fingers. “One I want to solve.”

  “I’m starting to think Mama is too.” My brows pulled together as I mused over the last day. “I’ve never questioned her. She’s always right, and I still believe that. But why did she tell me that Sun Fae are dangerous, when you seem so nice?”

  Aedan gave a wry smile and nodded. “I was always told that humans are only interested in Fae as slaves.” He looked around the ranch. “But I don’t see any slaves here.”

  “Ah.” I scratched my head, suddenly embarrassed. “Well, um, that is true for the most part.” He looked at me, his eyes suddenly guarded and sharp. My head tipped to the side, mouth wrinkling with distaste. “Most humans are like that. But our ranch doesn’t keep slaves. It’s been forbidden since Grandpapa was head of the family. My papa upheld that belief. Now my brother, Heath, is about to fully inherit the farm, and he doesn’t support the idea of Fae as slaves either. After all, we both grew up with Marabell.”