Seelie Princess (The Crown of Tír na nÓg Book 1), Page 4

  “You are,” Maeve said. “Or at least you could be. Why won’t you go through with the ceremony? You’d make an amazing queen one day.”

  Fay sighed. “You’re just saying that because I’d make you a knight. Forget it. I’m not doing the ceremony.” She slumped onto her bed beside Maeve, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I won’t have to, not anymore.”

  Quick as an arrow, Maeve slapped Fay on the arm.

  Fay cried out. “What was that for?” She scooted away from Maeve so she could evade any other punches flying her way.

  “You tell us what you’re up to right this second,” Maeve said, glaring at Fay. “Or so Dôn help me—” She lifted her fist one more time.

  “Calm down! I’ll tell you.” And so she told them about her trip to Chicago and the girl. She left out the part about how she’d almost kissed the girl, which really hadn’t been part of her plan at all. While she talked, she fidgeted with the ring on her left hand, staring at the gold band engraved with a wreath of leaves.

  She could still feel Maeve’s scrutinizing gaze. Her friend had a way of looking at people that made even the strongest knights quiver with fear.

  “And that girl,” Maeve said once Fay had finished, “she’s supposed to bring peace to Tír na nÓg?”

  “That’s what Ophira believes.”

  Nooa nodded along. “I mean, if that boar was after her… we all know who it belongs to.” He shuddered.

  “So let them have her! I don’t see how a human girl can change anything about our situation,” Maeve said. “We can’t make peace with them. I say we uncover their hiding place and storm their—”

  “No!” Now Fay slapped Maeve’s arm, but much gentler. “Do you want another war? If you’re eager to prove yourself to the queen, this is not the way to do it.”

  “Kidnapping some human girl and hoping she’ll fix it isn’t the right way, either.” Maeve pierced Fay with a menacing glare that sent Fay to her feet. “We don’t need a mortal to make this right. Fay, you could be the true Seelie Princess. You could—”

  A hot flush shot up Fay’s neck and face. “I won’t do it!”

  Maeve moaned, but before she could say another word, Nooa was by her side, clasping her hand in his.

  “Stop fighting, the both of you!” He was paler than usual, his gray eyes wide. “Maeve, you know what will happen if Fay accepts Ophira’s offer. She told us what she would have to give up—”

  “But there’s so much to gain.”

  “—and we respect that. If it were me, I would not want to do it either.”

  Maeve glared at Nooa, but already her shoulders had relaxed. She slipped her hand from his grip and turned to face Fay again. “I hope the queen’s right about this girl.”

  Fay decided not to argue.

  “That is much better,” Nooa said, grinning. He always hated it when people around him were fighting. It was what rooted Fay and Maeve and forced them to calm down in the thick of an argument. Even though they had their differences, they never stayed mad at each other for long—for Nooa’s sake. Sometimes Fay wondered if Maeve would be friends with her if she hadn’t befriended Nooa first.

  “Now, should we head out?” he asked.

  “I have to keep an eye on the girl, but I’ll see you later. At the revel?”

  “I cannot wait for it.” Nooa hugged Fay tight, the kind of hug she’d come to love. Maeve gave her a curt nod; she wasn’t much of a hugger. And then they were both gone, leaving Fay to her solitude.

  She sank onto her bed, looking over at her nightstand. It was a delicate piece of furniture, crafted by hand from the wood of the trees growing in the Whispering Woods, and it had beautiful gilded knobs. She pulled the top drawer open with a jerk. Her heart grew heavy every time her eyes fell on the contents. Not looking closely, she grabbed the dagger she’d put on the nightstand and placed it beside its brother. The one she’d taken with her had an ivory handle engraved with golden vines, while the other that rested in the drawer was ebony, lacking any engraving or adornment. Beside it, faded by the years and creased at the edges, was a photograph.

  On most days, when Fay opened the drawer to take out or put back her weapon, she ignored it. But not today. It was as if the green eyes of the woman in the picture were keeping her riveted to the spot. She was smiling, her pale blond hair ruffled by the wind, and she was leaning against a speckled man who wore an expression of pure bliss.

  Fay traced her finger over the image of the woman. “Mom… Did I make the right decision?” Her gaze drifted from the woman in the picture to the man. Fay swallowed hard, trying to ignore the gnawing hole in her chest, the sinking feeling in her stomach. She shoved the picture back into the drawer and shut it with a final thud.

  6

  TEMPTING OFFER

  Daddy, tell me another story. I want to hear about the faeries again.

  Not tonight, honey. I have to go…

  No, Daddy. Please don’t leave me…

  Sunlight flooded the room, dancing across Kayla’s eyelids. She shifted, hugging a soft sheet tight to her chest. The air smelled of lavender and sage. It was quiet, no TV burbling in the next room, no cars whizzing by outside. No sounds of the city.

  Kayla flung her eyes open and pushed up into a sitting position with shaking arms.

  This wasn’t her room.

  It had no shelves groaning under the weight of too many books, no picture of her best friend on the bedside table, and no map of the world pinned to the back of the door. Instead, the morning sun sparked off a golden floor, and wildflowers covered the walls. The furniture was made of some glass-like material—the bed she was in, the vanity table on the opposite wall, the wardrobe.

  This definitely wasn’t her room. And the place outside the window definitely wasn’t Chicago.

  Kayla shrugged off the sheets and rose from the bed. The floor beneath her bare feet was smooth and warm. She shuffled over to the ceiling-to-floor window that stretched across the entire front of the room. The sun, creeping over the mountains’ peak in the distance, was like a sharp needle to her eyes. She blinked away the dark spots, until the landscape came back into focus. Green hills, tiny wooden houses parted by a clear river, people hurrying up and down the small alleys.

  Holding her breath, Kayla reached out one hand and pressed her palm against the window. Kayla stepped back with a frown, and as she bowed her head, she noticed the black dress she was wearing.

  “Abby!”

  She spun around, hoping her friend would materialize at the mention of her name. But the room was empty. Kayla was alone. And she had no recollection of where she was or how she’d gotten here.

  Her eyes fell on the two doors in the room. Maybe she’d find answers behind one of them. Squaring her shoulders, she took a step forward, but she wasn’t even close to either of the doors when one of them swung open.

  A woman in a white dress stood on the threshold. She had rose-blond hair that she wore in a braid and eyes that shimmered like brass in the sunlight. They widened in surprise.

  “Oh, you are awake!”

  As she crossed the threshold, Kayla staggered back a few steps. The woman stopped. “Do not be afraid. I am not here to hurt you.” She placed a hand to her chest. “My name is Deirdre.”

  Kayla scanned Deirdre’s face and noticed the sharp tips of her ears, which brought memories crashing back.

  Ava.

  The boar.

  Breathing like she’d run a marathon, Kayla collapsed on the bed. She glanced down at her left arm. Nothing but a fine red line had remained of the incident with the boar. “What happened? Where am I?”

  “The Citadel,” Deirdre said with a smile. When Kayla raised an eyebrow at her, she continued, “We are in the heart of the Seelie Court, capital of Tír na nÓg.”

  “Tír na nÓg?” Kayla’s mind was racing. “It’s true, then? Tír na nÓg, it exists…” A sudden lightness filled her chest. Her father’s stories had been true.

  Kayla leaped fr
om the bed. “Where’s my bag? The acorn…” She swayed, overwhelmed by a sudden dizziness.

  Deirdre was by her side in an instant, gently pushing her down on the bed again. She reached for the jug on the nightstand and filled a gilded goblet. “Here, have some water.” She held the goblet out to Kayla, who took it and downed the contents in one big gulp.

  “How are you feeling?” Deirdre asked.

  “I’m fine,” Kayla snapped. She sighed and raked a hand through her tangled hair. “Why am I here?”

  “I cannot answer that question,” Deirdre said. “But if you are well enough, the queen will see you now.”

  Kayla nearly dropped the goblet. “The queen?” Maybe this was one of her daydreams again, of meeting one of the faeries her father had always told her about. Or it was finally a first step toward finding him.

  “Yes, I will take you to see her at once, but before I do, you must understand the rules of our people. They are simple and must be adhered to in all instances or the queen will not look kindly upon you.” Deirdre’s expression grew serious. “Do not use the words ‘thank you,’ do not make requests, and do not apologize.”

  Before Kayla could ask any more questions, Deirdre went to open the door for her and Kayla followed with another look back at the hills beyond the window.

  When they stepped out of the room, Kayla did a double-take. It was as if she’d been dropped into a fairytale. The whole interior of the building—the Citadel, Deirdre had called it—was forged from gold. As was the armor of the two knights standing guard outside Kayla’s door. Countless flower arrangements decorated the hallway, somehow growing out of the walls. A soft tune carried through the air, like chiming bells, strange and haunting, and the scent of grass, apples, and wild violets tickled Kayla’s nose.

  Deirdre left with a curt bow and the knights guided Kayla down the hallway and up a winding staircase. They stopped in front of a heavy oak door with gold-leaf trim, which was opened by another knight positioned there.

  Kayla entered the room with careful steps. It was a wide, open space with an expansive window, a vacant throne on a podium, and a massive wooden table loaded with all kinds of food—fruits, vegetables, nuts, and even some mushrooms. Three people sat at the table in high-backed chairs.

  Her heart stuttered at the sight of one of them. Ava had changed. Her hair was braided and held back by a thin floral crown with green blossoms. Instead of a black dress, she wore a green one that had a pattern of overlapping leaves and was tight around her chest. She wasn’t looking at Kayla.

  Ava sat between a young silver-haired man in armor and a woman with shining golden hair. The pointy tips of her ears stuck out from her locks, right underneath the crown that rested on her head. The golden piece of jewelry was like a wreath of leaves, with a green gemstone embedded in its center. Something moved behind the surface of the stone, like whirling smoke.

  Kayla withdrew her gaze.

  The woman stood and strode toward Kayla. Her white gown, embroidered with green and gold shapes and flowers, rustled as she moved. She opened her arms wide, as though she wanted to embrace Kayla, and a set of wings spread out from her back. They were gossamer, almost translucent in the bright sunlight, and laced with spidery lines of vivid green.

  “I am Ophira,” she said. Her smile was radiant like the sun, powerful enough to scorch everything in her wake. “Queen of the Seelie Court and all of Tír na nÓg.” She gestured at the chair on the opposite side of the table. Then she settled back down on her own chair.

  Kayla took the seat, eyes fixed on the queen. A red-haired knight stood right behind Ophira. He was barely a teenager, and his armor was at least a size too big.

  “Have something to eat,” Ophira said. “You must be starving!” She nudged a plate toward Kayla. On it were some mushrooms and a peculiar pink fruit.

  Kayla glanced at the selection. She could hear her mother’s voice, telling her to never accept food from a stranger. It was something Kayla had repeated to her brother many times. But Deirdre’s words rang in her ears. Not accepting the food could insult the queen and that might be even worse. So she picked up the pink fruit and took a small bite. It tasted deliciously sweet, the perfect blend between a raspberry and a crisp apple.

  A woman materialized at the table and poured drinks. Kayla glanced from her goblet to the queen, and she was reminded of how terrified she’d been the first time she had to talk in front of the entire class. Back then, her knees had shaken so much she was afraid they’d buckle. She fought back the quiver in her knees now.

  Her head held high, she met the queen’s gaze head-on and spoke as calmly as possible. “Where’s my father?”

  Ophira smiled, tight-lipped. “I have some questions first.” She turned to the man beside her. “Chancellor Pwyll, show our guest what we found.”

  “Certainly,” he said. Kayla followed the movements of his hands as he retrieved something from his side, which he placed on the table.

  “My bag!” Kayla lunged for it, but Pwyll pulled it back.

  “You cannot have it yet,” he said. He unzipped the bag and took out the acorn, twisting it between his fingers. “Why is this in your possession?”

  Kayla slumped down on her chair. She glared at Ava, who wouldn’t meet her eye. Next to the queen, who held herself with a certain air of superiority, Ava looked almost small and out of place.

  “This is a faerie message,” Pwyll said. “Are you aware of that?”

  “I thought it might be, but I don’t know who sent it.”

  Pwyll opened the acorn and pulled out the note. “You have no idea who this emblem belongs to then?” Beside him, Ophira gazed at Kayla with open curiosity.

  “No, I’ve never seen it before,” Kayla said. “Have you?”

  Pwyll and Ophira exchanged a glance. “You see,” Ophira said, “no faerie of mine would use this emblem on a message. And we are concerned about this. Why would a faerie send you a message about your father if you are not acquaintances?”

  “My father…” Kayla cleared her throat. “Faeries took him years ago. I’ve been hoping to hear from him ever since.”

  “Is that so?” Ophira asked. “Still, it is very unusual for a faerie to send a message to a human. What connection do you share with our world? You seem to have some knowledge of our existence.”

  “I wouldn’t call it knowledge. My father used to tell me stories. About faeries. He always believed that you existed. That might be why they took him…”

  “It was none of my faeries who laid hands on him,” Ophira said. “We do not harm any mortal simply for believing in us. Their fascination of our folk flatters us.”

  “So my father isn’t with you?” It stung to have hit a dead end so soon. This was the first clue she’d gotten in years; it had to lead to something.

  “He is not. But…” The queen paused, folding her hands on top of the table. “I would be inclined to offer you my help.”

  “You would?” Kayla leaned forward in her chair. “I’d be so grateful...”

  “Oh, it is not gratitude I seek.” Ophira said. “It is like a dry leaf in the wind…” She lifted one hand, swooping it upward. “And once it is carried away, it will not remember the wind that picked it up. No, I have no interest in such transience. My deed is worth remembering.”

  Kayla sank back onto her chair. “I won’t ever forget your help in finding my father. I promise.”

  “Ah, promises are as shallow. I propose a bargain.”

  “A bargain?”

  “The queen will offer you help,” Pwyll said, “and in return, you pledge your allegiance to her.”

  “I don’t understand.” Kayla looked from Pwyll to the queen.

  “The return is denied to those who are ignorant,” Ophira explained. “One’s blood is the return.”

  Kayla’s gaze flicked to Ava, who was paler than before.

  “To find your father,” Ophira said, “you must leave your old life behind. You cannot go back to your former dwelling
until the end of our bargain has been met.”

  “My former dwelling?”

  “The place you call home. Your family. You must stay away from them until you have reunited with your father.”

  “I can’t just leave them like that. They’ll worry about me.” Kayla hadn’t told her mother she made it to Abby’s safely. She felt a pang of guilt, one that she shoved to the back of her mind. “Can I tell them I’m okay?”

  “You may send them one message through me, but you must not tell them where you are.”

  Kayla swallowed. Abby would be so mad at her if she left even for a day. More than during their fight two years ago. And her brother needed her to tell him stories about their father. If Kayla wasn’t there to do it, no one would. But it shouldn’t be her telling those stories in the first place. It should be their father.

  “And I can go back home once I find my dad?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And if I don’t find him?”

  Ophira pulled down her eyebrows, almost as if she pitied Kayla. “You will be bound to this realm until the end of your life.”

  A slight chill froze the pit of Kayla’s stomach. “And I won’t see my family again… ever?” She knew the answer even before Ophira’s slight nod. “What you’re asking is too much. My family… I can’t leave them. I can’t…”

  Ophira stiffened, and Kayla remembered the second rule of faeries: Do not make requests.

  “You do not wish to find your father, then?” Ophira asked.

  “No, I want to, but…”

  “I do not offer such things lightly,” Ophira said. “If you stay, I will find the answers you are looking for. However, I expect you to follow my orders. We have been fooled by dishonest, ruthless humans before and we no longer give our aid without recompense. This is the price you must pay.”

  Kayla bit her lip. “How can I trust your words?”

  “A faerie always speaks the truth,” Ophira said. “To lie is an offense against all we hold dear.”