Page 26 of A Kiss from the Fae (Mistress of Magic #2)

Excerpt from Grainne Morgan’s diary

I have been teaching myself the magic from the grimoire. It is strange, unlike anything I have done before, but deep and profound.

Where once the villagers celebrated the shortest day by burning the Yule log, symbolic of the warmth of the hearth to be taken through the coldest months, now they celebrate the Christian holiday.

I do not have strong feelings about it, and indeed Ethel and Marian celebrate Christmas now, but I was taught the old ways and keep them.

Rather than conduct a ceremony on the beach this year, as the winter has been so hard, I lit a fire at home alone and propitiated Old Hornie and Queenie there.

Surprisingly, I was visited by Gwyn. I would not normally expect this, but he materialised during the ritual, and we made love. It was very beautiful.

I find my heart being turned towards him, and I am at a loss as to why this is happening. I have always kept the old ways strictly and avoided entanglements. Why now?

He tells me he loves me. I know that the fae do not love in the way that we do, but he seems sincere. I do not know what this means.

Faye stalked through the village scowling.

Lyr had treated her like an errant daughter, and it rankled.

Yes, he was technically her father, but he hadn’t been a father in any of the important ways.

He hadn’t helped her with her homework, or read her bedtime stories, or taken her to the park.

He wasn’t there when she was ill, and he wasn’t there when Moddie died, leaving Faye to run the shop on her own.

Lyr was a father in blood only, and clearly, blood was all he cared about.

She heard him behind her and increased her pace, but she was no match for him. Lyr strode past her easily and stopped her with one hand on her shoulder. She shook it off.

‘Leave me alone,’ she muttered.

‘No, Faye. I apologise for my anger. We do not know each other, and it was inappropriate,’ he rumbled.

‘Please. Come back and we will talk. I was angry. I did not expect it…to have gone this far. I can get you into Murias to find your friend. I have no love for Finn or Levantiana, so it will be my pleasure to deny them a human follower. And…’ He broke off and looked away.

‘There is much magic to be learned here, too, child. As a daughter of Falias it is your birthright.’

‘Maybe I don’t want to learn your magic,’ she scoffed, but she was lying.

Being back in the fae realm – even one as different to Murias as this – was intoxicating.

The power of the fae ran in her veins, and this place shone with an immanent glow of power.

The faerie part of her felt at home here; the faerie part of her wanted to know it intimately.

Perhaps he’d read her mind just now. Perhaps he felt the sorrow she did when she thought about everything he could have taught her: all the power he could have helped her to gain, without her having to resort to dangerous bargains with the Queen of Murias.

‘That is your choice,’ Lyr said quietly.

Faye shrugged. ‘You haven’t told me what you want from me yet.

’ She spoke clearly into the strange air, watching three fae children play a game, dropping sticks into a gurgling stream that wound between the houses.

It could have been her; perhaps she could have lived half her life here in Falias, learning the crafts of the fae; listening to Lyr’s deep rumble as he laughed, as he showed her which crystals could be found where in the faerie forest. Half here, and half in Abercolme, like a true sidhe-leth.

But that had been denied her, by Lyr as well as Moddie and Grandmother, in their way.

‘Come back to the dwelling, and I will tell you what I require,’ Lyr answered testily.

‘No. Tell me now,’ she insisted, and stood her ground. The faerie king glared at her. ‘I told you my secret. Now, you know. You know everything. Tell me.’

‘And I rid you of the curse, do not forget.’ He breathed out and gave her a searching look.

‘Fine. Then what I require as your side of the bargain is a human woman to bear my children and be my mate. You will know of someone, I’m sure.

Fear not, they will not be mistreated, and I am a generous king to those who please me.

In times past, I would go into your world and find my own lovers, find strong women to bear my children.

But the war has weakened me. I need a mate to revive my ardour. ’

‘No!’ Faye exclaimed, horrified. How could Lyr ask her to deceive another woman, to assign her to the same fate as herself?

‘You asked what my side of the bargain was. That is it.’

‘It’s intolerable. I won’t do it,’ she spat. ‘I can’t believe you’d ask me.’

‘It is what I want,’ he repeated. ‘Just bring me the woman.’

‘I’ll do no such thing,’ Faye replied. She felt exhausted; it was all too much.

Her feelings about Lyr. Her childhood memories.

The exhaustion of the curse. She hadn’t known Levantiana’s twisted intentions for her baby-yet-to-be when she’d made their bargain.

She wouldn’t be sucked into such an agreement again.

‘The woman will be treated with every care and luxury my realm allows.’ Lyr shook his head.

‘I told you: of all the realms, mine is the one most intimately associated with your kind, and I am fond of humans beyond all the other faerie kings and queens.’ Lyr stepped aside to let the children run past, whooping and shouting excitedly in their game.

‘You have to tell me what you want the woman for,’ Faye insisted.

‘As you wish,’ he sighed. ‘A human woman will revive me. As the faerie magic enlivens humans when they are here, the balance between our races means that we also feed on human energy. And, I need a new heir. I have my full-blood faerie son, Luathas. He will soon command my faerie legions in battle. But it is too risky to have him in the field, so I would have a half-fae child, a boy, who I could substitute for him. If he is half human, he will have the physical endurance and strength of a human as well as his fae abilities. He just needs to be dark, like Luathas and me.’

‘No!’ Faye cried. ‘It’s just not right.’ She was disappointed – in Lyr and all of them. None of them had an honest reason for wanting any contact with humans; every time, it was to get something they wanted. And they seemed to have no conscience about it at all.

‘Then I cannot help you rescue your friend from Murias.’ Lyr frowned. ‘And you have seen what happens to the lovers of the fae there.’

‘Then I’ll find another way.’

‘You will do what you will, Faye Morgan,’ Lyr replied wearily.

‘Remember my offer. It is the only way you can return without acquiescing to Finn Beatha and undoing everything you have done so far.’ Lyr took a wooden wand from his leather belt and drew a circle on the dry earth floor.

Inside it, he scratched a symbol, something Faye didn’t recognise.

‘Lest you forget your friend,’ he said, and blew on the dust.

The dirt made way for something else; for a moment, a hole tunnelled down through the earth.

Faye glimpsed roots and stone and strata of old earth.

Immediately, it was replaced with something like a mirror or a glass, though it seemed to grow within the space like a translucent mushroom.

In it, it was hard to make out what she saw; the picture was distorted, as if she looked through a magnifying glass or circus mirror.

The room she was looking into was dark, the edge of the picture faded and rounded into blackness. Dim yellow light flickered against shapes in the shadow.

‘Aisha?’ Faye squatted down and peered into the magic mirror, if that was what it was. ‘Is that Aisha? Where is she? It’s dark. I can’t see anything.’

‘Look closer.’ Lyr’s voice was dispassionate.

Whatever the room was, she hadn’t seen anything like it when she’d been in Murias. Gone were the golden balustrades and luxurious, heavy tapestries; in this room, there were no faerie musicians playing a merry jig.

Four figures slumped against rough stone walls. A small fireplace of sorts in the corner illuminated rusty chains that shackled their wrists to the rock with a dim orange glow. One figure turned its face up, as if reaching for light or oxygen, and Faye recognised her friend.

‘Oh my god.’

Horror choked Faye. She wanted to look away but couldn’t. Aisha’s skin stretched tight over her cheekbones, and her usually bright, intelligent eyes were dull. The skin around one eye was bruised, and her shiny black hair was matted and dirty.

‘Where is she? Why…I saw her, and she was at least still in the reel.’ Faye looked aghast at Lyr who kicked dirt onto the strange mirror and traced a different symbol in the dirt.

As soon as it had appeared, it faded back into mud again.

Faye fell to her knees and scratched at the ground, but Lyr put a warm hand on her shoulder.

‘It is gone, daughter. Earth magic, no more, no less.’

‘But… what I saw… That was real?’

‘Yes.’ Lyr tried to take her hand, but she shook it free. ‘I merely showed you the truth, Faye. It is not my doing.’

‘But she’s… Aisha, she’s… trapped there. Suffering.’

‘You knew she was in Murias. This cannot come as a surprise.’

‘I know, but…’ Faye felt shocked tears run down her cheeks. ‘I…I thought at least she…he…I thought he wanted her. And she went willingly.’

‘You of all people know that Finn Beatha’s lovers enjoy his favour at his whim.

’ Lyr’s tone was neutral; he didn’t seem to judge the other faerie king, but recount it as fact.

‘You escaped the extremes of Murias as you are half faerie. But you know that the human lovers of the fae of Murias are not so lucky.’

Faye had no response. She knew Lyr was right. She’d seen the faerie reel, seen the broken bodies under it. She’d known that would be Aisha’s fate, sooner or later.

‘I suppose I…I didn’t want to believe it.

’ Faye’s heart felt like lead. It was all her fault; her fault from the day that she, Annie and Aisha did that love spell on the floor of her shop.

It had worked – too well. In less than a year, reality had spun on its axis.

Everything had changed. Annie had found love with Susie and Faye with Rav.

But Aisha had walked willingly into faerie, and now she was dying there for a fascination she mistook for love.

‘How…how long will she survive there? If I…before I get to her?’ Faye stammered. She wanted to go back through that glassy surface, to grab Aisha and pull her through, but she knew she couldn’t.

‘In human time? It is hard to say. A few months, perhaps.’

Faye’s heart was a stone falling into a still, black sea.

‘My offer still stands.’ Lyr’s voice was low and soft, but Faye heard the steel under it. ‘Find me a human woman to bear my heir, and I will help you bring your friend home.’

‘I want to go home.’ Faye needed time to think. Though time is one thing that Aisha doesn’t have , she reminded herself. You think you have the luxury of time, but Aisha is dying. Because of you.

‘Then go.’ Lyr sighed and held something out in his hand. ‘Take this. A gift, from me to you.’ He handed her a black crystal wand, very like those she’d seen on the table making up the powerful grids.

‘What is it?’ She took it and turned it over in her hand; as soon as her skin made contact, the crystal vibrated, thrumming with warmth. She let out a surprised cry. It was heavy and smooth as glass, but it felt alive.

‘It is made of obsidian – volcanic glass: a magic of fire and earth combined. A part of my realm, daughter. Something of your home, to be with you. Should you need me, or need the power of Falias, draw the sigil of the earth realm with it and it will transport you here. Just its presence will keep you safe.’

Faye held it to her heart and felt a strange reassurance emanating from it.

‘I will be here, daughter.’ Lyr waved his hand and the mists swirled around her again: gold and green and brown. She felt the same dissonance of being and not being all at once.

‘Remember your heritage, Faye. Remember who you are. You are the daughter of Lyr of Falias.’ His voice echoed in her mind as she closed her eyes. ‘And remember my offer, daughter. While you rail against what you know must be done, your friend grows weaker.’