Page 10 of A Kiss from the Fae (Mistress of Magic #2)

Instead of the familiar, thick trunks of the oaks, with Hampstead Heath beyond them, a new forest stretched out around her.

It was beautiful, glowing, but the trees were unlike any she had seen before, and the colours – greens, golds, reds, even blues – were so vivid that Faye had to blink to become accustomed to them.

She was struck by a strong sense of hyperreality.

Immediately, she knew she was in the faerie realm.

To her right flowed a merry stream with a bridge over it. The bridge was in the shape of a woman’s body, with her toes and fingertips the points where soft grass met the banks of the stream. The bridge was carved from wood and varnished in a golden brown, gleaming in the strange light.

The walkway over her back was unsupported by a rail, and the bridge was narrow. No bridge in the fae worlds, it seemed, was an easy one to cross, and all of them required fearlessness. Faye’s breath caught in her throat.

Was this the way to the faerie forest, the entry to Falias, the faerie kingdom of earth?

Had this place somehow interceded on Morgana Le Fae’s power?

Its presence had banished her from the circle; someone hadn’t wanted her to deliver her message to Faye.

What had the faerie queen been trying to tell Faye?

She felt rattled by the experience, her heart beating with panic.

Beyond the bridge there was a tall black gate leading into the forest; again, the gate itself was formed of the carvings of two women embracing.

The hinges of the gate were at the heels, bottoms and elbows of the figures, whose bodies were entwined in an eternal kiss.

As Faye watched, the gate swung open as if to show her what lay beyond.

Her panic quieting, Faye walked over the bridge and to the gate.

She stood at the entrance to the deeper forest and stared in, but roots and vines wrapped themselves around her feet and ankles, and she could go no further.

She could see the exposed black roots of the trees beyond, and the black soil that glowed with jewels: amber, citrine, jet and emerald sparkled in the ground like pebbles on a beach, and huge unpolished chunks sat like menhirs among the densely packed trees.

The air smelled of lemons, but underneath there was the taint of copper: of blood and earth.

Stop, traveller. Only one pure in her desire may enter the Queendom of Moronoe, Mistress of Earthly Delights a chorus of voices sang out.

Have knowledge of where you tread. Know thyself and admit thy deepest desires.

Faye’s awareness flickered back to the circle, but she was only vaguely conscious of the rest of them.

She tried to return to the ordinary world, tried switching her awareness completely, but the faerie forest was too strong.

She could hear soft laughter; the cries of delight attracted her, drew her in, lighting a flame of desire in her belly.

I want…I want… She tried to say what she felt, but she was too confused.

Stop this, I don’t want it. Return Morgana Le Fae to me. She had a message for me.

The laughter seemed to come from the lumps of crystal, from the deep black hollow slits in the trees. Many would like the pleasure of your company , came the answer. We await you.

Faye realised she was stamping her feet as if to free them from the roots.

There was a flash of golden light, and a deep voice rumbled through the trees like a persistent echo in a mountain range, like the sound of the earth shifting under her feet.

A different voice to the laughing one; the husky woman’s voice that had called her into something dark, somewhere she desired to go but didn’t know why.

Daughter.

The scene changed, and Faye was standing back in the circle, but the faerie one that overlapped the ordinary world. She could see the Hampstead Heath oak grove, but she stood within another circle, one with gold-green trees ringed with light.

Daughter. The call came again and a splintered shard of loss in Faye’s heart twisted uncomfortably.

The other children in Abercolme had fathers.

Cheerful ones that cracked jokes; quiet fathers that helped them with difficult homework; fathers that shouted; fat ones, thin ones, fathers that smelled of whisky.

She had been left out; she’d experienced none of those things.

Being called daughter , suddenly, by someone she didn’t know, was more hurtful than she expected.

This voice was a man’s, loud and deep.

A figure strode through the trees, a gold light pooling around him in the night.

For a brief second, Faye thought it was Finn, and she recoiled, her awareness returning to the ordinary world. He was tall and graceful in the same way as Finn was, and his outline was similar: strong shoulders, a regal bearing.

Yet, when Faye saw his face, it wasn’t one she’d seen before.

This man was dark where Finn was blonde and blue-eyed.

His hair was black and his skin was brown like sun-baked soil; he wore a short, shaggy beard.

His features were as perfect as Finn’s, but his jaw under the beard was squarer, his face broader.

He was dressed in a black tunic, pinned at the shoulder with a yellow-gold stone brooch, with black trousers underneath; he wore sandals of dull copper leather and a belt of the same, which featured a seven-pointed star on the buckle.

Lyr of the faerie kingdom of Falias stepped into the circle and the glow around him, like an aura of gold, lit up the whole clearing. He bowed his head respectfully to Faye.

‘I come for my daughter on this night of equal power between our realms of earth and magic, light and dark, day and night,’ he said, his voice as deep as the earth. He held out his hand. ‘Come. We have much to say to each other.’