Page 3 of A Dance with the Fae (Mistress of Magic #1)

He had an aquiline face and yellow-blonde hair, long, to his shoulders. His face was beautiful in an otherworldly way, with piercing blue eyes, heavy-lidded with long lashes.

In the dream, her lover stroked her skin gently with his long fingers and murmured words in her ear that she had no memory of on waking.

In the dream, he kissed her, held her in his huge, strong arms, and then, slowly, entered her, whispering that he was going to give her a baby, that he would fill her with his seed, that she was his pretty little brood mare, that they were destined to be together.

The dreams always made her so wet and full of longing that she would wake up, gasping and frustrated.

Grandmother had also said that the Good Folk would swap a human baby for a faerie changeling, disguised so that the baby’s parents would be forever unaware.

The human parents would take care of the changeling as their own, until one day, it would be taken back into the fae realm.

Sometimes, this was done if a fae baby became ill with an affliction that could not be healed in the fae realms, or if the fae kings or queens decided that the baby needed to learn certain skills in the human world.

Though Faye had believed this as a child, she’d questioned it as she’d grown older, and this part of Grandmother’s teaching seemed a little far-fetched to her now.

Still, she had showed the grimoire to Annie, and together they’d leafed through the thick pages.

Grandmother had written down her dreams in it, as well as spells, healing she’d performed for various villagers, and accounts of her rituals at the new, full and dark moons.

Annie had always been fascinated by Faye’s witch heritage: the fact that she could trace her family back to Grainne Morgan, who had been murdered as part of the now infamous witch trials in Berwick in the sixteenth century.

Even before then, the Morgan women had been witches, Grandmother had told her.

Their blood is in yours, Faye. Never forget.

But Faye didn’t like to think about Grainne Morgan, being burned at the stake; every time she did, she could almost feel the fire licking up her own skin.

The ancestral trauma from such a thing, she had read, lived on in the generations following.

She could well believe it. She’d had nightmares as a child: of being shut in a dark, smelly room with no light or air.

She would wake up from those dreams crying and with a sensation around her wrists as if they had been chafed by rope.

How to explain the crackling panic that engulfed her when she thought about those women?

Annie was leafing through the grimoire, lit by the lamps they had brought with them onto the beach.

‘Every year, I find something new,’ she murmured. ‘There’s all kind of things in here. Look – spells for health, luck…Look at this. Faerie kings and queens.’ She showed the book to Faye, who frowned at the pages.

‘I don’t remember seeing that part before,’ she said, leaning over and staring at the thick vellum parchment.

The double page was arranged in a kind of diagram, like a family tree, with amateurish illustrations – done by Grandmother, or a Morgan woman before her, Faye guessed.

The illustrations showed royal crests and crowns on each corner of the pages.

‘In Murias, the realm of water, the king and queen are Fintanaeon, Master of the Tides, and Levantiana, Mistress of the Cup. In Falias, the realm of earth, the king and queen are Lyr, Master of Mountains, and Moronoe, Mistress of the Stone. In Gorias, the realm of air, the king and queen are Raphaeleon, Master of the Winds, and Tyronoe, Mistress of the Knife. And in Finias, realm of fire, the king and queen are Attis, Master of Flame, and Thetis, Mistress of the Staff.’

Faye read aloud, tracing her finger over the words written in a thick ink.

Each royal house’s crown symbol was different: the crown for Murias, the realm of water, was a rose gold crown with six tall spikes and an inner cap of pearls and opals.

The crown for Falias, the realm of earth, was square with four domed sides made of deep yellow gold, each holding a precious jewel in a different colour.

The crown for Gorias, the realm of air, looked as if it was made of glass, with no jewels at all but with hundreds of tall, thin, transparent spikes around a glass circlet.

And the crown for Finias, the realm of fire, was a thick black circlet without any spikes but studded with rubies in an abstract pattern.

Whoever had drawn the crowns had taken a lot of care: the whole double page was a work of art.

‘That’s awesome,’ Annie cooed. ‘Look at all the work that must have gone into this. The page was stuck together, so I don’t think it’s been opened in a while.’

‘That would explain why I haven’t seen it before. I must have flicked right past it,’ Faye said as she studied the names of the fae kings and queens. ‘Isn’t it wild that someone believed in all of this enough to write it in the family grimoire?’

‘Your grannie was all about the faerie world. Maybe there’s something in it.’ Annie shrugged.

‘Maybe,’ Faye said. ‘Look. Rules for interacting with the faerie realms.’ She ran her finger down a list of commandments, written in a neat, copperplate hand.

One. Never eat or drink in the faerie realms. Taking in their food and drink, while delicious, will alter a human body forever and make it more of the fae, less of the human.

This can result in a greater susceptibility to illness and bad luck while in the human world, though it can confer great power in the worlds of faerie.

Two. Following on from One. The Rule of Balance applies between the faerie and the human worlds.

Each world depends on the other to exist, and there is a natural ebb and flow between the realms. If one realm seeks to overpower the other, chaos reigns.

If they work harmoniously together, peace reigns.

Three. Faerie powers must be propitiated by the humans assigned the task, who we call witches. To maintain peace with the faerie realms, witches must care for their places of power in nature, leave regular offerings and remain in communication with the fae.

Four. Do not ask special boons of the fae. The Rule of Balance demands payment, and if a human asks the fae for help, know that it will be given, but the price demanded in return will be high.

Five. Observe the rites of the seasons: Beltane, Samhain, the solstices and the equinoxes.

Six. Study the faerie realms and know them before entering them. Keep your wits about you at all times when in the realm of faerie. The fae realms are not like the human world; the fae do not operate as we do. Morality does not exist in the faerie realms. Tread carefully there.

Seven. Wear charms to resist faerie enchantment, or risk being lost. The fae, though they confer power to witches, are perilous and will seek to seduce, possess and impregnate witches for their own ends.

Eight. Know that the longer a human spends in the realms of faerie, the more difficult it will be to return to the mortal world.

Nine. A faerie cannot force a witch to stay in its realm, and a witch has free will.

If you enter faerie, it is because you choose to, and you can leave when you wish, as long as you have not partaken too much of the faerie food and wine, or stayed away for too long.

The fae will lie to you and tell you that you are their prisoner.

You are not. But the fae are persuasive and can make it seem that you cannot leave. Beware.

‘That’s a lot of rules, eh.’ Annie took the book from Faye.

‘Hmm. Whoever wrote that really believed in the fae,’ Faye said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe, in years gone by, they were more present. Different times.’

‘Aye, maybe,’ Annie said, and flicked further through the thick, handwritten pages, absorbed. ‘Things’ve moved on. Wouldn’t blame the faeries fer retreatin’ back tae their lands, what wi’ all the chaos humans have brought tae the world.’

‘ Impregnating witches . That’s kind of intense.’ Faye’s eyes widened. ‘Do you think that ever happened?’

‘Naw. Old legends. I’d say all that’s a code fer respect nature, ’cause she has no respect fer you .’ Annie made a face. ‘Good advice.’

‘I guess. Still, it seems kind of…like this person thought that was real.’ Faye stared out to the black night sea.

‘You don’t know who wrote that. How they saw the world would be different to how we do,’ Annie said distractedly.

She was still flicking through the pages, until she exclaimed and jabbed her finger down on the paper.

‘Ha! Knew it. Spell for love. To summon passionate love, aye, that’s what we want!

Good on ye, Grandmother Morgan.’ Annie pulled out her glasses and slid them onto her nose. ‘We’re gonna do this.’

‘Why?’ Faye replied. ‘Love is…’ She trailed off, frowning.

‘What?’ Annie poked her.

‘Disappointing. Leads to heartbreak and pain. Pointless.’ Faye shrugged, trying to seem unbothered. That was what Moddie had taught her. Never trust a man. They will break your heart. Your father broke mine. ‘I don’t want to do a spell for love.’

‘Oh, come on. Don’t be such a stick in the mud.

’ Annie held her torch up to the book again.

‘Says here that the first step is to make dolls. The object of your desire is to be rendered as dutifully as possible, with the hair and fingernails if it is to represent one person in particular .’ Annie read it aloud in her actress voice, as if she were a television announcer from the 1950s.

‘Wow. D’ye think Grandmother Morgan was out and about, picking toenails out of people’s bins, aye?

Not for me. But it says here ye can just make one up that represents your ideal partner.

I’d be well up for that. Why not? We could ask Aisha to do it with us, she’s single. ’

Aisha worked part-time at the shop with Faye.

‘I don’t know. I’m not sure I want that.

It’s…I dunno. More trouble than it’s worth,’ Faye protested.

But the truth was that even though she had been raised to fear love – even though Moddie had schooled her in all the ways that a man would betray her and break her heart – Faye was lonely. And her heart yearned for love.

‘Course ye do. You’re always moonin’ around like a lost faerie, Faye. Look at ye. Made for romantic hair-whippin’ in the wind, moonlit seaside rendezvous.’ Annie shone her torch into Faye’s face. ‘Look at that face, aye. If no one takes ye soon, I’m going to try and convert ye to a lesbian.’

Faye shrugged. ‘No offence, but I don’t think I’d be a very good one.’

‘Aye well, don’t rule it out. But the spell?

Come on, Faye. What d’you have to lose? I know you’re shy.

I know ye don’t want to get hurt. You’re afraid.

But it doesn’t have to be earth-shattering, okay?

Ye could just have a little fun. Ye need some fun, sweetheart.

’ Annie put her gloved hand on Faye’s shoulder and looked into her eyes in the dim light of the torch.

Their campfire was burning low, and the coals were only a dim glow in the dark.

‘I am having fun. I’m here with you on a sub-zero beach, waiting for the sunrise. Honestly. Who else is doing this?’ Faye argued, but she knew Annie was right. And that Annie normally got what she wanted, one way or another.

‘Promise me, sweetheart. You need this. I bloody need it, too.’

‘You get a new girlfriend every other week.’ Faye rolled her eyes.

‘I know, I know. But I want someone I really like. That I can trust.’ Annie looked at Faye out of the corner of her eye. ‘Not just to sleep with. I want someone to love.’

‘Are you being serious?’

‘Aye. Why not?’ Annie looked away wistfully at the black sea. ‘I’ve only been in love once, and that was a long time ago.’

Faye narrowed her eyes at her friend; she was an actress, so she could roll out the drama if she wanted to. But Faye knew her well enough to know when she was being real or not, and she thought that in this case she was.

‘Fine, fine. We’ll do it. Anything to stop this emotional blackmail.

’ Faye took the grimoire from her friend.

Grandmother’s handwriting was so familiar; neat copperplate, spidery with time.

She felt the tears spring to her eyes as the memory of the woman she had loved so much came back, breathing and vivid. ‘Let’s see what we’ll need.’

As she peered at the book, Faye noticed the light had changed, and she could see the page better. She looked up and saw the first faint rays of the sunrise reaching out over the horizon, and nudged Annie.

‘Come on. We’ll look at this later,’ she said, holding out her hand for her friend.

They walked down the beach together, foil blankets tied around their shoulders like magicians’ capes.

‘Happy solstice.’ Annie hugged her and they stared up at the sun, blanketed by dawn-pink clouds, glinting on the grey-green sea.

‘May all our wishes come true this year. Make a wish on the new sun.’ She raised her flask to the sun and closed her eyes.

Perhaps Annie really was wishing for someone she could love.

Faye held up her own flask and made her own wish on the new sun before taking a drink and pouring a small libation of the wine into the sand by her feet.

She had, in previous years, wished for her health and for the shop to be successful.

She was about to do the same again, but as she closed her eyes and felt the faraway warmth of the new sun caress her skin, a sense of bravery overtook her.

I too wish for love. True love to come to me , she thought, and was surprised at how much she truly meant it.