‘No offence, but that’s not really how I wanted this to go – me the patient, you the wise woman. I really… I really want you, Faye, okay? Like I’ve never experienced with anyone else. I have this completely obsessive, unwholesome passion for you. I mean, it’s embarrassing, saying that. But that’s how I feel. And I hate it, because I’m not in control of myself around you. That’s the one thing I can depend on. I control things, because that’s how I feel safe.’ He gave her a sideways glance, half angry, half sad. ‘I don’t want you to cure me. I want you to want me as much as I want you. And I don’t think you do.’
He stood up and walked to the window to look out over the beach.
‘It’s okay if you want to leave.’ Rav’s voice was jagged; he was trying to keep control, but it wasn’t quite working.
‘I don’t want to leave,’ Faye followed him and, shyly, wrapped her arms around his waist. ‘I want to be here. With you,’ she murmured.
They stood as they were, with Faye hugging Rav, for long moments. Eventually, he turned around, taking her hands in his.
‘Sorry,’ he kissed her gently. ‘I don’t know why I told you all that. I mean, I would have eventually… I just didn’t mean to, right now.’
‘I’m glad you did.’ She kissed him back. Something had gone from between them; the tension that Faye had felt, the lustful power that had tried to make him her servant. She was herself again, and she was seeing him as he was, perhaps for the first time.
Rav bent down to pick something up from the floor; it was the opal ring Finn had given her, and as soon as she saw it, she felt a rush of revulsion and desire. No, no, she wanted to say, to refuse it, but she found herself offering her hand to him. She didn’t want it; they had created a moment between them, a realness; Rav and she had connected, heart to heart. She didn’t want to be reminded of Murias and Finn now.
‘Oh. It must have fallen off,’ she heard Rav say innocently, but, like before, Faye was unable to say what she wanted to; her body betrayed her, and she watched in dismay as Rav slipped the ring on her thumb.
There was a sudden rush, as if she was being thrust through the air at uncomfortable speed. She had the sense of breathlessness, and the blue diamond air surrounded her. Again, like before, she was panicking, falling, but now she couldn’t wake up.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘You kissed the human man.’
Faye opened her eyes to find herself inside Finn Beatha’s bedroom and was immediately on her guard.
‘You kissed him. Made love with him. On my land. That is not the behaviour I expect from my sidhe-leth,’ he stared at her harshly, his voice ringing out even among the walls hung with their ornate tapestries. Today he wore something akin to a suit of armour, though it was still finely detailed with the Celtic spirals and intricate knotwork that was everywhere else in the castle, chased into the edges of the golden breastplate which accurately followed the contours of his muscled chest.
‘I… I…’ Faye’s voice wavered; she felt choked by Finn’s sudden change of temper. His intoxicating charm seemed like it belonged to another person; now, he was cold and inaccessible. ‘How did I get here? I don’t remember walking the faerie road or coming through the labyrinth.’
‘Now that you are mine, I can summon you as and when I wish,’ he said dismissively, looking her over and not answering her question. ‘Though I appreciate you arriving so flushed with pleasure.’ Finn grimaced, and his tone was sarcastic. ‘Perhaps I shall keep you naked here, at my bidding.’
‘You can’t…’ Faye wanted to argue, knew that he was wrong, but she was unable to bring the words to her lips. She recognised the delicious haze of fae descending on her, like too many glasses of wine with Annie after-hours in the shop, under the full moon, or luxuriating in an erotic dream, not wanting to wake up but knowing that the real world tugged at the edges of it, waiting for her to return.
‘I can and, if it pleases me, I will,’ Finn snapped. ‘How dare you take another lover? Am I not enough for you? Am I not everything you desire?’ he turned his back on her and paced the room sulkily, prowling like a cat. ‘You are not the only lover I could have, sidhe-leth. Many others would willingly take your place.’
Faye couldn’t respond: the same tightness restricted her throat, and she knew now for sure that it was Finn’s enchantment that bound her words. In her right mind, she would have argued back, told him that it was over. That he had no right to treat her like this. But her thoughts were disconnected and vague. She felt tears of frustration springing to her eyes.
He turned and met her eyes, a speculative expression in his that were the colour of a tumultuous sea: his gaze had the power to drown or rescue her.
‘I have not stopped thinking about you since the last time you were here. You know I want you; you are unlike a mortal woman, Faye. You and I are destined to be together.’ He paused. ‘You liked the jewel I gave you, I trust?’ He approached her slowly, still prowling, still guarded.
Befuddled, she nodded, looking at the ring. Had it brought her here, somehow? As she looked down at her hand, a long, many-stranded rose gold and opal necklace appeared around her neck, spreading out to her shoulders and down, framing her breasts, the lowest opal resting just above her navel. Bracelets of the same rose gold, made of many interlocking spirals, made elegant cuffs on her wrists and ankles, and a brief triangle made of tiny rose-gold chains and silky pearlescent fabric, embroidered with opals appeared between her legs. She held out her arm and marvelled at the beauty of the design and, as the jewels nestled against her skin, the familiar lassitude of enchantment slipped over her like a robe. She fought it, though it was like trying to hold back a tide. She made herself remember her discomfiture at being transported here without warning; worse, being vulnerable like this, at the mercy of a man dressed for battle. She dimly remembered him mentioning a conflict of some kind, last time she was here; Finn hadn’t told her anything more than it was with another of the kingdoms – she couldn’t remember which one – and that faerie battles for territory were commonplace. She wondered if he had come straight from a battle, or was intending to go to it when she had arrived.
‘See how generous I am, even to my faithless lover?’ His voice was cool and steady, but anger still blazed in his eyes. ‘And yet you betrayed me.’ His tone was sharp and pointed; icy where once it had been honey. ‘When I gave you everything.’
‘I’m sorry, I…’ She hardly knew what she was saying. Was she really sorry? She wondered at herself for a moment. She had felt right with Rav. But Abercolme already felt a million miles and a lifetime away from this moment. No! You’re not sorry! She screamed at herself, but the words were coming out and she couldn’t stop them: she was under Finn’s spell, and said what he wanted her to say.
‘Sorry is not enough!’ Finn screamed suddenly, picking up one of the small golden bedside tables and flinging it across the room. ‘Sorry is a human word! There are no apologies in faerie. There is love, and there is not. There is desire, and there is no desire. We do not have a single word that makes things right with no effort at all! Sorry is a lie. I do not want your sorrow. I want your love.’
Faye recoiled from his sudden anger. She knew that faeries were no strangers to lies, but she said nothing. She waited for his anger to pass, her gaze flitting from his face to his clenched fists until they relaxed.
‘Promise that you will never see him again.’ He stood facing her, and traced his fingertip on her cheek. His voice was calm again, and he kissed her cheek softly, as if she had imagined his outburst. Like it had never happened.
Faye looked up into his ocean-tossed eyes. She knew what had happened, and a part of her felt alarm; there was a warning here, and she knew she should take it. Finn was dangerous; his temper was explosive. But the power of Murias was too strong, and Finn, so close to her, was bright as the sun. And if the sun cast shadows, she knew that he called hers out: teased her darkness out from where her human-ness gripped it tight, refusing to let it see the light.
‘I promise,’ she whispered, knowing that he was compelling her, but also that there was something deep inside her that wanted to say yes, too. ‘I am yours.’
‘So be it. I will allow one mistake, Faye. But only one.’ He was gentle now, and Faye wondered how she could ever have been startled by his anger. He had been hurt. He was emotional. He loved her.
‘The lovers of faerie kings are richly rewarded for their adoration.’ Finn Beatha smiled widely and turned her around so that she could look at herself in the mirror.
‘They’re beautiful,’ she murmured, touching the opals. Finn’s hand closed over hers, and he traced her own hand over her breasts, her waist and her bottom. She leaned back into him, and felt his arousal against her.
‘You are beautiful,’ he breathed into her ear, and Faye was willingly lost.
‘Come.’ He held out his hand to her and, at his touch, she felt the seductive, sleepy wave of faerie break over her, wrapping her in its seawater bliss. ‘The faerie ball awaits.’
‘So you weren’t… aren’t…?’ She indicated his armour. ‘You look like you’re ready for battle.’
‘The battle is over, for now,’ he replied curtly.
‘But… what’s it about? Why are you at war with… the other realm?’ She wanted to know, but Finn looked away, smiling.
‘No talk of war now, sidhe-leth. It is not a matter for you. Listen to the music. Don’t you care to dance?’
‘Like this?’ Faye was almost naked, and she hugged her arms around herself, vulnerable. It was one thing to be here with Finn, but quite another for the whole of Murias to see her dressed only in the intricate rose-gold chains. ‘I… can’t I get dressed? For a ball?’ She remembered the lavish clothes that had appeared for her here, last time.
He smiled, and kissed her. ‘You are the king’s lover. In the faerie kingdom of Murias, sidhe-leth, I am all-powerful. And you…’ He kissed her neck, watching her in the mirror, ‘You are the object of my desire. And I desire them to see you as I do. More beautiful than the stars on the night sea. You may wear whatever you please. What do you want?’ He caressed her naked breasts softly.
‘Something magical,’ she replied, and a sudden delight in her own body bloomed like a dark blood-red rose. She remembered the sensation of being watched as she had made love with Rav on the beach; the intoxication of eyes being on her as she claimed her pleasure. ‘I want them to see me. Want me as you do.’
He clicked his fingers softly, and Faye felt the softest kiss of silk caress her skin.
‘Then you shall have it,’ he murmured.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When they descended the golden spiral staircase, the music stopped and the faerie court stared silently at its king and his lover.
Faye looked down at herself, suddenly self-conscious. A coral-pink gown made of a slightly iridescent, translucent silky material was open to the waist to show off her elaborate necklace and naked breasts. Jewelled straps looped loosely over her shoulders, glittering with opals, pearls and diamonds, and a plain rose gold circlet sat on her forehead, covering her third eye. Her auburn-red hair had been braided around the circlet, and the rest of her hair was a mass of wild curls that spilled over her shoulders. The skirt of the dress swept the ground at the back but was open to the waist at the front, showing her thighs and the triangle of jewelled thong that sat comfortably against her flesh. A light breeze blew the gauzy material against Faye’s skin, and she was aroused by the sensation of the silk – and Finn’s hand – on her back. She wore flat slippers that seemed to be woven from a soft gold material that was nonetheless spongy and strong when she walked, and protected her feet from the cold marble and sometimes sharp shell floors of the castle.
Finn took her hand and bowed before the upturned faces of the court; Faye took his lead and bowed too.
‘May I present the king’s consort, Miss Faye Morgan,’ Finn announced to the hall, his voice loud and commanding, then turned to Faye and, kneeling before her, took her hand and kissed it. ‘This ball is in her honour,’ he said, smiling up at her, and Faye’s heart thrummed with ecstatic joy.
The crowd cheered, and Faye bowed to them. As they descended the stairs, the music started again and Faye felt her toes twitch. It was enchanted music; it made her want to dance and scream and laugh wildly; to pinch and bite and kiss.
As soon as they reached the floor, Finn’s arm grasped her around the waist and he swung her into the throng. He still wore the uniform he had worn in his room; the light from a thousand or more candles glowed gold on his epaulettes and buttons. His eyes were wild, like hers must be too, she thought; joining the dancers was like going under a magical wave, and not needing air.
Large golden bowls of water alight with floating candles sat on top of numerous golden pillars around the edge of the wide hall; as they danced, Faye felt the fragranced air on her skin like kisses. Hanging from the ceiling above were strange decorations; some she recognised, like seashells and starfish, and brightly coloured coral that seemed to grow out of the ceiling. But there were other things, too; things made from knotted string and hair and bones that hung here and there, and that she didn’t like to look too closely at.
The dancers were much as they had been before; varied as the faeries she had seen on the faerie road and in the labyrinth. Some were tall, willowy women, dressed in leaves, that bowed regally as Faye and Finn passed them. Some were short, fat faeries with ragged wings and dusty, moth wing-like garments. Faye glimpsed the beautiful woman with the legs of a goat under her long green dress; she remembered seeing her, or a faerie very like her, in the labyrinth.
‘What are the names of all these creatures?’ she whispered to Finn.
‘The Faerie Court of Water is legion,’ he replied, spinning her around until she was dizzy. ‘There are dream-weavers, sprites, nixies, river maidens, topsy-turveys. There are frog queens and kings, undines. Many more that have not been given names by humans.’
Out of breath from exertion, Faye stopped dancing; the crowd continued to revolve around them. She spotted the frog queen, a naked, otherworldly beauty dressed only in an elaborate crown of pearls, with webbed feet and glistening green and brown spotted legs. The queen danced delicately yet unrelentingly fast with a slim young man who wore a baroque face mask that was as jewelled as her necklace, and a jewelled band around his neck that suggested a collar. He was human, Faye was almost sure; other than the mask and collar, his chest was bare, and he wore loose trousers in a dark green material. His chest puffed in and out rapidly with the effort of keeping up with the faerie.
Faye recognised Finn’s sister, the Faerie Queen of Murias, Glitonea, approaching; she and Finn gave the same nod to each other that Faye remembered from before, and that same something passed between them: like calls to like, deep calls to deep, Grandmother used to say, and it was just that: of all the fae, they were something of their own. She danced again with the same young man – barely more than twenty, Faye guessed – who seemed frailer than before, but who still gazed at the faerie queen as if she was the gleaming spark at the centre of all things, and he couldn’t believe his luck that he was the one holding onto her brightness. He too wore a mask this time, as did many of the faeries; Faye supposed that this was a masked ball.
Unlike last time, when she had been new to Murias and Finn had danced her past his sister without stopping to do more than nod, now Faye could focus on Glitonea in greater detail. Compelling in the same way that Finn was, the faerie queen was fair, tall, well-muscled and strong. She had the same high cheekbones and ravishing, penetrating gaze as her brother.
Finn smiled and bowed to the frog queen and her partner as they passed. Just before the frog queen grasped him by the shoulders and leaped into the centre of the crowd, laughing, the young man’s outstretched hand glanced onto Faye’s palm, and his eyes, in the slits in the mask, met hers.
As soon as they touched, Faye felt a jolt of pain all the way through her body, like being cut in two. She
pulled her hand away. Panic filled her; the eyes that had held hers, she could swear, were full of pain. Was there an entreaty there, a cry for help? But before she could say anything, or hold onto him, the frog queen had dragged him deeper into the crowd.
‘Who… who was that? With the frog queen?’ He smiled, stroked her face and took her hand. His touch calmed her immediately.
‘Her consort, just as you are mine,’ he replied, simply. ‘Do not worry. They come here willingly, like you,’
‘But… I think he was asking for help. I felt… pain when he touched me.’
‘I doubt that. The frog queen is a generous lover. He will not go unsated or underfed, sidhe-leth. Remember that the realm of faerie is not like the human world. Pleasure and pain are both sensation, and in faerie, we do not discriminate.’ He smiled down at her. ‘You know yourself that the desire you deny in the human realm can be free here. Humans come here to embrace their shadows as much as the desires that live in more plain sight. We do not judge; neither should you.’
Faye frowned. Under and among her intoxication at being in Murias she sensed a black thread of doubt weaving itself silently; she felt the tug of its shadowy teeth, and felt uneasy.
As if he read her mind, Finn measured her eyes with his.
‘You know so little of us. Stay. Absorb our ways, our culture. Until you know us, you cannot understand,’ he cautioned, and she nodded. He was right, and the call of faerie tugged at her hair and sang in her blood.
‘Now. Will we have some wine?’ Finn smiled, and Faye realised that she was thirsty.
Chapter Twenty-Five
She woke up on what she thought was the third day after the masked ball, which had turned into a continual party fuelled by faerie wine and the sweet and deliciously sour faerie foods for which she had no name. Whatever the faerie fruits were, they had kept her and Finn awake – dancing, feasting and making love – for what felt like a long time. Flashes of memory, of contorted faces, twining limbs, of bodies and lips, slid in and out of her mind; she had a sudden, searing headache and her mouth was completely dry. She closed her eyes and felt her stomach heave. She was going to be sick.
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