Page 53 of A Dance with the Fae (Mistress of Magic #1)
‘Don’t go.’ Rav reached out for her as she eased him into her bed. ‘Please, Faye. I don’t trust Finn.’
‘It’s okay. I’ll be all right.’ She pulled her old patchwork quilt over him and handed him a herbal tea – a sedative. Valerian and hops would make him sleep, and sleep was what he needed right now. In the distance, she could hear the thump and roar of the festival like a storm off the horizon.
She sat on the edge of the bed and held his hand, waiting for the tea to take effect. They had been back for a day, but Faye couldn’t leave it any longer.
‘I have to go. I have to face him alone.’
‘I should come with you. You can’t go alone.
He’s too powerful.’ Rav flinched as he moved in bed, trying to get comfortable.
Faye had cleaned the cuts on his back as best she could, but some of them were deep.
Rav’s knees were a mess and his hands were covered in cuts and bruises.
She also suspected that he had broken some ribs.
‘Just sleep,’ she whispered, and put her other hand on his brow. Rav frowned. ‘This is between me and Finn,’ she added.
She had walked him back to her house rather than take him anywhere close to his; that close to the faerie road felt like a risk: would Finn take him again? Levantiana had helped them escape, but Finn had seen them in the ballroom.
Faye felt a stab of grief for Moddie, but she pushed it to one side in her heart.
Moddie had died, and was still dead. Whether she remained in Murias in spirit or whether Finn would leave her imprisoned in the labyrinth, Faye couldn’t guess.
She resolved to return to free Moddie; she shivered as she remembered the leaves snaking down her mother’s throat.
Rav’s breathing fell into a deep rhythm, and she gently released her hand from his, waiting a few more minutes to make sure he was really knocked out. She looked out of the window to see the sun setting over the ocean, making the island off the shore a brooding silhouette.
She had saved Rav, but had agreed to an infernal bargain in the process; it was exactly like the old stories.
At Midwinter one of the faerie kingdoms of Murias, Falias, Gorias or Finias takes a child, and at Midsummer, a willing woman.
The child must be under a year old, so that it can be raised in the Crystal Castle with no memory of its mortal parents, and the woman must be fair, and willing to join the faerie dance for evermore.
In thanks, the faerie king and faerie queen will bless the land and grant boons to the villagers of Abercolme for their generous offerings.
Thinking about it now, Faye shuddered. She had never thought much about having a child herself, but, if she did, she would be damned before she gave it up to live in Murias.
Rav started to snore. Faye got up quietly and pulled her coat on properly, then padded downstairs in her socks.
She would find a way out of the bargain with Levantiana when the time came; the important thing was that she had saved Rav from a terrible fate.
Downstairs in the shop, the last of the day’s light glanced through the plate-glass windows; it was late, past nine, but this was the longest day of the year, after all. Midsummer.
She had to confront Finn. There was a reason Dal Riada were performing at Abercolme Rocks; Finn wasn’t just there for the adulation, she was sure. Midsummer was the time the faeries abducted women, to nurse their faerie babies or to live as human lovers, never to return.
Was this what Finn had in mind? Before, she would have dismissed the idea.
But now, it seemed all too real. The men and women who lay unconscious on the floor of the great hall, imprisoned in Murias, had come from somewhere.
And Faye had experienced Dal Riada’s own special brand of enchantment for herself.
She looked around her at the shelves and then behind the counter, at the neatly labelled glass jars Moddie had arranged and which Faye refilled as faithfully as her mother had.
What could help her? What would count as strong enough magic against a faerie king who was able to entrance whole rooms of people with his enchantments?
A faerie king who made her forget everything except him and the deep desire that thrummed in every part of her body when he was near?
If she was to stop him, Faye had to resist his power.
Moddie had given her the charm, but she needed something more.
She stared at the jars, feeling the pulse of the music in the ground under her feet, pulling her to the abandoned castle.
Not yet, not yet, I’m not ready , she thought, trying to push against Finn’s call, but her faerie blood was responding to his demand.
She could feel that familiar lassitude begin to cover her; instinctively, her hands went to her throat, feeling the seductive ghost of the opals against her skin.
‘No, no, NO!’ she shouted aloud. Moddie had taught her, when she was older and could understand more about magic, sometimes the best way to banish energy was to just shout at it to go away or be gone , as loudly and definitely as you could.
Whatever spell Finn was casting right now – and she had no doubt that he was – he wasn’t going to weave her into it as neatly as he had before.
She was a different woman now; she had used the faerie magic, or, at least, some of it.
She had connected to her ancestors, been given their gifts and their powers.
And, she could summon the power of water at will.
Her gaze alighted on the protective charm that hung over the door: a piece of string onto which were tied nine hagstones – pebbles with naturally occurring holes through them.
Both the charm and the bells that hung next to it and jangled every time someone came in kept bad intentions and bad doings away, Grandmother said.
And, if you looked through the holes, you could see faeries and see through faerie enchantments.
Faye unhooked it and took it down gently, putting it in her pocket.
It felt wrong leaving the shop and Rav unguarded and taking the charm with her, but her instinct told her that this was the right thing to do, and Faye found that it was usually best to obey her instincts, especially when it came to magic.
Last, she took the wand. That seemed the most powerful of the tools at hand.
She locked the door behind her and set off down the street.
The village was deserted; everyone was at the concert, which meant that everyone in Abercolme was currently under Finn Beatha’s spell.
She quickened her steps and broke into a run as the thump of the music grew louder and more insistent, as the sun set over the ocean, covering Abercolme in darkness.