Page 16 of A Kiss from the Fae (Mistress of Magic #2)

Excerpt from Grainne Morgan’s diary

At the darkest ebb of the year, as we enter darkness, the children go guising as usual and complain that I have only dried apple to offer them. They get more ungrateful by the year.

The villagers – adults – know that this is the dark time when the division between the worlds is thin, and we must protect ourselves from the fae who roam freely around the village, streaming in from the faerie road to conduct chaos and play tricks on us poor humans.

Many stay inside and daub white crosses on their doors to keep the fae away, which works, on the whole, as the fae have no love for the cross.

For those that venture out of doors, many a nose is tweaked on Samhain; many a skirt lifted and a man pushed over; possessions stolen and food turned bad if left out.

The very unlucky and unwary, not wearing any kind of charm to protect them, may be interfered with against their will. It is a wild night.

The witches are the wise ones tasked with maintaining the magical balance between the worlds, and we are the ones with the knowledge of the correct rituals and observances.

The Samhain ritual is a fire ritual as is Bealtaine, also held at the beach, also with a frenzied dance afterwards.

Yet, there is none of the debauched fucking of May; the villagers cluster fearfully around the fire as we appeal to Old Hornie and Queenie for their protection and toss in items belonging to loved ones who have passed away.

The dead are close tonight. Ethel acted as seer and conveyed messages from the dead to the living.

Marian is growing heavy with child, but she is still able to conduct the Samhain ceremony with us. She has become uncommunicative and stealthy, angered with me because I refused her entry to Murias. She does not realise that I have saved her life.

‘You couldn’t keep away, I see.’

Faye opened her eyes groggily, coughing.

She had inhaled water on her way to Murias – if indeed that was where she was – and felt half-drowned.

The journey on the kelpie had been disorienting; they had entered a vast ocean through the roof of Annie’s house, and Faye had clung on to the kelpie’s mane for dear life as it had run, spiralled and chased its way through the water.

Murias, Murias , she had thought. Take me to Aisha.

She’d tried to keep her thoughts as clear as possible in the event that the kelpie would obey her wishes.

Then, after an indeterminate amount of time, the kelpie had disappeared, and she found herself splayed, naked, on a thick rug.

Finn Beatha sat on a golden chair watching her. A cruel smile played around his mouth.

‘Where are we?’ Faye spluttered, sitting up.

‘Where is Aisha? Why am I naked?’ She tried to cover herself with her hands.

The rug was thick and patterned in Celtic spirals of gold and blue, but she could see that wherever she was, she seemed to be within a large tent; the rug was at the centre, but grass surrounded the perimeter of the room.

‘Come to take your friend back, have you? Ha. She would not thank you for it.’ Finn chuckled.

‘And I think you have forgotten the proper address for me. You call me My Lord and Master, remember?’ He raised an eyebrow as he regarded her naked body.

‘You are just as comely as you were, sidhe-leth . How I have missed those generous curves and soft skin.’ His eyes glazed over as he looked at her.

‘You are not my lord and master. I refuse to call you that,’ Faye retorted. ‘Give me Aisha. You have enchanted her and the rest of the people you took from Abercolme. They will die if they stay here.’ She looked around, frowning. ‘Where is here , anyway?’

‘You see that we are not in the castle of Murias, dear Faye. What a clever little thing you are.’ He smiled, and she balked at the sarcasm in his tone.

‘If you had wanted to visit Murias, I told you that you were now welcome there if you pledged yourself to me. I have no time for lovers’ quarrels,’ he added airily.

‘We didn’t have a lover’s quarrel.’ Faye tried hard to maintain an even tone though she was furious. How dare Finn Beatha speak to her as if she was some kind of idiot, or his property? She was neither, and she had made that very clear.

‘Didn’t we?’ He sighed theatrically. ‘We were lovers, and we quarrelled. I don’t see the distinction.’

‘I do. Where are we then if we aren’t in Murias?

’ Faye asked, not wanting to get enmeshed in an argument with Finn Beatha, or for him to enchant her with his words.

If they weren’t in Murias, Faye wondered whether the same lassitude would affect her; previously, being in the fae kingdom had had a lulling, intoxicating effect on her, making her forget the human world.

‘You find me on the battlefield, dear Faye,’ Finn said, standing up and pacing the perimeter of the tent, his hands clasped behind his back.

‘We are at war, as you know. The battle takes much of my time now.’ He opened the flap door of the tent and gestured outside.

‘See for yourself what you could end, if you choose to.’ He raised an imperious eyebrow.

Faye stood up and walked over to where he stood. Warily, she hid half behind the tent door – cautious of being seen naked – and peered out at the scene beyond.

She could see that Finn’s tent stood with two others on the side of a mountain. Banners for Murias and Gorias fluttered in the breeze, carrying their royal symbols. Behind them, the rock face glittered with jewels, reflecting the light of a low red sun on the horizon.

Below the rock edge, a vast valley stretched between two mountain ranges. Far in the distance, another vast mountain met the darkening sky, and between them raged a battle.

Faye could see the livery of four different fighting forces in the troops below.

They all wore armour, but the fae themselves varied as they had at the faerie reel in Murias.

There were trolls, winged faeries, dragon-like creatures, giants wielding huge hammers, merfolk, kelpies, beings that seemed to be on fire, fae made of moving crystal. Faye had names for only a few of them.

‘That is nothing to do with me,’ she said combatively.

‘You know that is untrue, dear Faye. The prophecy tells us that a half-fae maiden will end the war by taking control of the Crystal Castle of the Moon. The longer that you tarry and ignore your true calling – as Mistress of Magic, Mistress of the Crystal Castle, and my mistress, my whore, my devoted slut and concubine – the more losses we will incur. Think of the lives lost, sidhe-leth .’

His voice was like honey, and Faye felt herself slipping under his spell.

‘That’s completely unfair. You can’t … extort me to sleep with you,’ Faye exclaimed. ‘This war is nothing to do with me!’

‘Oh, but it is. If the Morgan women had not lapsed in their duties, the fae realms would have had no reason to go to war. The other kingdoms would not have lost trust in humans. The balance has been lost.’ Finn raised an eyebrow. ‘This is not news to you.’

‘No, but…’

‘But you didn’t believe me, until now?’ He came to stand beside her and looked out at the battlefield. ‘Regard the horror of war. Consider yourself lucky to stand here with me and gaze upon it and not stand inside the mêlée.’

Finn rested his hand on her naked hip; his touch was electric.

‘This will all end if you just say the word,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘Consent to be mine.’

‘No.’ She turned away, horrified, but he caught her around her waist and pulled her back towards him.

‘Faye. I need you. I missed you. I want you,’ he murmured, his breath hot on her neck.

He brushed her hair away from the nape of her neck and kissed it tenderly.

Despite her intentions to stay detached, to stay focused on finding Aisha and bringing her home, Faye felt her blood respond.

She gasped, feeling the deep, pleasurable lull of faerie overtake her.

‘ Faye. Bruadarach, neach-gaoil ,’ he murmured as his fingers traced the hollow of her back and then the curve of her bottom. She knew now that it meant: Lover, love of my dreams. Dream lover.

They had come together in dreams so many times. And it had been so good; unearthly, profound, kingdom-transcendingly incredible.

His hand slipped between her thighs and stroked them gently.

She turned to him, unable to control the desire that his touch sparked in her.

She could feel a line of sensation from his fingers on her thighs to the deepest, most secret part of her that ached for him, ached to expand its sweetness and drown her in pleasure.

‘That’s it, my pretty little one. That’s it.

’ He breathed in her ear as his fingertips brushed her wetness softly.

She gasped at the sensation that his touch created; like a mesh of pinpricks of delight pulsating from the softness of her pussy, out to her thighs, up to her stomach and deep inside her.

She knew that she was dripping wet for him; she wanted – no, needed – him deep inside her.

‘Tell me what you want. What you need,’ he murmured as he held her firmly, his fingers making slow circles over her clit.

The honeyed pleasure built and built maddeningly, and she could think of nothing else.

She buried her face in his chest and breathed him in.

There was no smell like Finn: like sea salt, woodsmoke and sex.

‘I…I want…’ She wanted him, there and then, in that moment. Her desire was so strong. I want to be devoured by you. Possessed by you. I want to be your slave, your plaything, your whore. The words were on her lips, waiting to be uttered.

But there was something else she wanted.

Finn’s power was considerable; the erotic bond between them was deep.

But Faye could also feel the faerie magic coursing through her, and that too was intoxicating.

The wild freedom of riding on the kelpie’s back; the mastery of water; her ability to transport herself here at will.

The magic had worked. She felt invincible.

No. Don’t let him draw you in.

Something in her consciousness snapped Faye out of her reverie.

Remember Aisha.

It was Annie’s voice. Whether it was really there or a part of Faye’s brain that knew she needed a wake-up call, it succeeded.

Faye extricated herself from Finn’s grasp, and her hands went to the kelpie pendant she wore around her neck. Now that she was back in Murias, it had reappeared and was a tangible thing, not merely a memory and an energetic resonance.

‘You cannot keep me here!’ she cried, and though she didn’t have the wand, she remembered the sigil.

She drew it in the air with her finger and chanted the words: A rèir an tròcair mhòir, Glòir agus cumhachd do Rìgh agus do Bhanrigh Mhurias, mar a bha e aig an toiseach, agus a-nis, agus gu bràth. Kelpie, come to my aid. Bring me home.

‘Faye! No!’ Finn shouted, the anger steely in his voice, but she knew he could not stop her.

The black kelpie rose from the water inside a golden cauldron at the centre of the tent, and Faye jumped upon its back.

‘I will not be tricked! I will find Aisha and bring her home,’ she vowed as the kelpie reared up on its long, black, scaly tail.

‘So be it, sidhe-leth .’ Finn’s expression changed, and she saw fury in his eyes. ‘Do not say that I did not give you every chance to do this without pain.’