“Why can’t I accept food or drink from the fey?” Siofra raised the cup of water he’d just given her and took a sip. This early in the morning, the water from the stream was frigid and so refreshing after her long walk. “You just gave me this.”
“I cancelled out the magic of the stream. You don’t want to be trapped forever in between worlds. Some extremely dark creatures reside there.” He yanked a long strand of grass and slid it between his fingers until it squeaked. “Remember this…no matter how hungry or thirsty you are, do not eat or drink in the fairy realm. You’ll be stuck there forever.”
They were once again seated beside the rushing water of the stream, watching the fairy realm. “What if I want to be stuck there?”
“Don’t tease. You might not like it at all. And very important—must not stray from the path. You won’t ever find your way back.”
“Can they see me?” She gestured at a short, stubby creature that looked remarkably like stone.
“Siofra, are you listening? The rules are important.”
“You do remember I don’t like rules.”
“Even I follow the rules.”
“Fine. Must not eat. Must not drink. Must not leave the path.”
“But the path will try to trick you into a diversion.”
“What! It’s alive?”
He took her hand. “If you want to make it out of the fairy realms, you must follow the rules. The land is alive. Everything is responsive, even the paths. Fairies use whatever they must to get their way, and they aren’t above luring their prey off the path with will-o’-the-wisp.”
Siofra sank on the old fallen log. “I just want to look and have some fun.”
“Fairies love fun. Fun is the best occupation of a fairy. But fun to them will not be fun to you. The moment they know you wish to have fun, they will make your life a misery with all sorts of impossible riddles and quests.”
“I understand. Look, but don’t touch. Listen, but don’t speak.”
Lysander sighed. “If anything happens to you…”
“Why don’t you give me one of those glamour things? So no one knows who I am.”
“It wouldn’t help. You reek of humans.”
“Ohhh, like the troll stench. I could wear lavender scent. Mrs. Sgot has some essential oil.”
“Nothing masks it. The human world and the fey world are just…diametrically different.”
“Why can’t I smell you?”
His nose twitched. “I…have a glamour.”
Siofra laughed harder than she ever thought she had, grasping her stomach and lurching forward. All this time, she thought she knew him. Long, unruly black hair, long face, long chin, long nose, wide grey eyes, pale skin. And strength. So much power in his movements. In a look. And it wasn’t him.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Because I don’t care, and I’ve always cared…about everything. You’re my friend, and that’s what matters. I don’t care if you’re a troll or a dwarf or a fairy or an elf. I don’t care if you’re a unicorn! Are you a unicorn? It could get challenging if you don’t have hands…or feet.”
At that, he smiled. “I’m not a unicorn.”
“Then we have reached an accord, and someday we may actually walk over the bridge instead of merely talking about it. But not today.”
“You changed your mind?”
“Not really. I just don’t need to go today.” Siofra sat up. “You never answered. Can they see me?”
“No. I hid you.”
“Did you, now?” She grinned at him. He certainly brought out her playful side. “Whatever for? Afraid the fairy creatures will catch you playing with a human?”
“Absolutely. They’d come after you. Some of them are quite vicious.”
“That, I don’t need. Tell me about the building where everyone’s congregating. Is it special? Even though it’s small, the door appears to accommodate all sizes of individuals, and I’ve been watching it forever. Hardly anyone who goes in ever comes out.”
“The bridge may take you into the fey world, but there are numerous levels and realms. That building is a gateway. You choose a door then enter another realm…for a fee.”
“Obviously, not money,” she said. “What do they use for remuneration?”
“Fairy dust is always in high demand. Leprechaun gold. Magic beans. Certain spells. Cloaks of invisibility. Glamours. Riddles, and the like. It’s a shop as well.”
“Are you saying a person could obtain anything they need to exist in Faerie land?”
“Just because you obtain magic baubles, Siofra, doesn’t mean you have the wherewithal to utilize them. What would you do with fairy dust?”
“Fly?”
“An interesting notion. Not altogether wrong. But you’d still need to know how to use it.”
“Do you?” She leaned close, pinning him with her gaze.
“Fly? No.”
“Very funny. Do you know how to use fairy dust?”
“Very sparingly. It is powerful stuff.”
“I give up.” She flopped back against the multitude of cushions with as great an air of nonchalance as she could manage. “Tell me about your life.”
“I am not beguiled by that innocent demeanor, young lady. You are forever prying.”
“Am I ever beguiling? You should enlighten me so that I may become more accomplished.”
“Your accomplishment ferrets enough of my secrets, but you have not agreed to our pact of mutual honesty. I need tell you nothing.”
Siofra stuck out her lower lip to pout as she had seen many children do, not to mention ridiculous ingenue debutantes. “I have given you every detail of my pitiful existence, defeated your nasty troll, which should have afforded me some measure of latitude, but no, you refuse me even the most basic information. One would think you popped into existence out of my dreams.”
“Ah, you dream of me.”
He was too close to the truth for comfort, so she shoved him in the shoulder, affecting his balance. “I do remember your name flitting through my night terrors when the troll chased after me. But, truly, Lysander, do you have relatives? Brother, sister, mother? Anybody? How are you able to tear yourself away from familial duties to spend time with me?”
“Are you certain you don’t wish to traverse the bridge? I could show you a nymph, the one who runs the shop.”
“As tempting as that sounds—I am almost persuaded—I find your roots much more enthralling.”
Lysander heaved a sigh, scuffing his odd boots together as if bracing himself for some arduous journey. “My father is a cold, dangerous man, very controlling, with little regard for my comfort or anyone else’s. He uses anyone at his disposal in his continuous games for supremacy. I was a pawn, so I left. My mother had long since ceased to be of use to him, though she remains at court because she likes…pomp and circumstance.”
“I know many debutantes and mothers with that same shortcoming. Did she not shield you from his sport?”
“When I was younger. Much younger.” His arm swept toward the other realm, now hidden from view. “There are many such fey, like me, who grow weary of the indiscretions and manipulations of the courts. We operate in and out of the courts, as suits our needs. We may not be privy to their secrets as the favored ones, but neither are we subject to their scheming.”
“The fey courts sound as bad as the ton, or worse. I understand why you don’t wish me to make my petition.”
“Having been raised as a human, you could not truly understand the manipulations of the fey courts.”
“I thought you said the fey couldn’t lie.”
“And therein lies the danger, Siofra. Their truth is a double-edged sword.”
His cold tone and somber expression brought a shiver down her spine. Was she naïve to believe that the information of her ancestry would bring her joy?
She closed her eyes. “What did you do before you met me?”
“You will find it amusing. For want of a better term, I believe you would call me a sheriff, but the fey call me the Steward.”
Her eyes shot open and she bolted upright. “That is fascinating.” She grabbed his forearm. “Tell me. Tell me everything. Do you hunt down criminals?”
“You remember the troll…I told you that he had been banished. I placed the banishment on him.”
“Ahh, that is why you have magic. Were you given special abilities to accomplish your duties?”
Lysander nodded. “I have more than the fair share of magical abilities in order to circumvent the mischievous antics of the fey. They don’t always use the sense God gave an acorn.”
“An acorn has sense?”
“It never deviates from its aim to be a mighty oak tree.”
“How poetic.” She reached for her cup and took a drink. “Tell me of another criminal you captured.”
“Aren’t you bloodthirsty today!”
“Nonsense. I just cannot imagine what constitutes foul behavior for the fey. You make much of it…and of the danger to my welfare. I’m still curious.”
“Have you never read fairy tales? There is an element of truth to those fables.”
“They are a staple of living in this area. I don’t think there’s one I haven’t read.”
“Fine,” he said, “I will tell you a tale. Once upon a time, there lived a fey prince of the Unseelie court.”
Siofra clapped her hands together. “I love it already.”
“At an early age, he was promised to a young princess of the Seelie court. Their union was in hopes of bringing a stop to the endless bickering between the two courts. When he discovered the Unseelie king plotting behind his back to use the marriage for yet another of his schemes, he confessed all to the Seelie queen. She immediately sent her daughter into hiding, shielding her from even the young prince, to his sorrow.”
Siofra moaned, biting her bottom lip. “How horrible. And you are now tasked with locating her. Or, did you?”
“That was decades ago.”
“I don’t love it. That is a terrible story.”
“But such an apt example of the vagaries of the fey.”
Siofra grabbed the edge of the blanket and wrapped it around herself, feeling the need for comfort. She understood the competition and desire for recognition. It happened daily amidst the ton, and someone might exult in someone else’s faux pas, but such skirmishes rarely led to someone’s death now that dueling was illegal. Lysander was correct. She did not understand the fairy world, nor did she understand magic. What if the family she discovered were as horrifying as the troll?
She glanced at Lysander. Since relating that sad tale, his eyes hadn’t left her. He might be different from any man she’d ever known, but he had a sense of honor unlike anyone she knew. He owed her, a complete stranger, nothing, yet he’d always seen to her welfare above his own. What if the family she discovered were as wondrous as he?
“Tell me about this nymph of the shop. Is she kept in a basin of water?”
Lysander canted his head to the side and laughed. Had she ever seen him laugh with such abandon? He seemed much less dangerous.
“What? What have I said?”
“The picture you suggest is ludicrous. There are many types of nymphs. She is a tree nymph, which is why the shop can adjust itself to the size of any clientele. She has an accord with the tree in which the shop was formed. Are you certain you don’t wish to visit today?”
“Are you saying the tree is alive? It communicates with the nymph? And it’s a shop?”
“Her name is Daire.”
“The tree has a name?”
“Siofra…are you being deliberately obtuse? It’s an oak, a daire, so the nymph’s name is Daire. I think you’d like her.”
“Really?” She shoved off the ground and wiped her gloved hands on the seat of her trousers. “Because it doesn’t sound like you know what you think. First, you told me to stay away, and now you want me to visit. You’re very confusing. I guess you’re right about the fey…they drive one mad.” And perhaps she felt a trifle envious of this nymph.
She stalked off, leaving an open-mouthed Lysander still sitting on the blanket. Before she even reached the path, he popped up in front of her, causing her to run into him. “Lysander, what are you doing?”
His hands covered hers as he supported her against his chest. “I can admit when I’m wrong.” His deep voice floated across her ears like a soothing warm honey. “You have shown yourself adept in dangerous situations. You deserve the opportunity to see…another way of life.”
She stared into his dark eyes. Why couldn’t she think about anything other than how silky she found his lilting voice. She could positively drop like a limp cravat. “Are you using magic on me?”
“Whyever would you ask that?”
Because she found him entirely too beguiling. She jerked her hands out from under his. “Answer the question. Are you attempting to manipulate me with magic?”
“Absolutely not. Perhaps what I’m saying is more appealing than you realize,” he whispered against her ear then vanished into nothing.
Beast. She nearly toppled over.