“You are late.”
Autumn, a sister I was not allowed to claim as such, paced the curving pathway rimmed with colorful flowers. Her choppy stride, tensed shoulders and clenched jaw told me fury rode her hard, frustration chewing away at her soul the way other poisons destroyed in bits and pieces. If I didn’t rein her in soon, she’d be noticed and sent away.
I placed a hand on her solid shoulder. In her true form, Fionna had been delicate and unusually lovely. Now, as Autumn, she was shorter and stockier, working as a servant for one of the High Seelie families I’d abhorred. Our minds were as sharp as ever despite the common fae appearances our father, King Finvarra, had created for us. Average in every outward aspect.
I’d also lost inches in height, my face rounder and my nose fleshier as well. My hands were broad and strong, the hands of a field worker, yet my fingers were long, enabling them to move quickly on a keyboard.
Fiona shook off my hand and paced between the flowering trees.
“Settle down. You are irritating me,” I snapped.
“Do you think I care about your discomfort?”
“You will attract attention,” I whispered between gritted teeth.
“Father knows where we are at all times.”
“The attention of others.”
“His magic ensures no one else will recognize us.” She opened her arms and turned in place, something she used to do as a teenager.
Autumn wasn’t an easy companion, but then neither was I. We lived under constant surveillance by a dangerous ruler able to poke at our minds at his pleasure. Our father was not a cruel master, but he did not trust us. Would never trust us. Had no reason to trust us.
We had been responsible for the long-term damage done to Faerie and many of its residents. I would not trust us either, but then I’d never trusted anyone.
I sighed and turned aside. Father should have ended us when he had the chance. No matter the shell, the essence of a creature couldn’t be hidden for long. Did he really believe his first-born daughter would change her stripes after he stripped away her crown, her power, and her beauty?
A group of demi-fey darted past, unaware an enemy they thought dead or banished stood beside their beautifully cultivated gardens. We were free to walk among the citizens we’d hurt the most. That is, if you could call yourself free when a kingly conscience could burrow into your inner thoughts whenever it pleased him.
Father had taken everything from us but enough power to survive, changed our forms and locked us in a dungeon for two cycles of the moon. It could have been worse, although Autumn would never see it that way. When he’d gotten around to releasing us, the king transported my sister and me to Skye Sidhe where we were given jobs and told to work for our meals. Forced to live as common fae citizens with little power, we would learn the hard way of the harm we’d done.
I enjoyed the fields and forests, the lochs and cliff-bordered seacoasts. Even the work. My sister did nothing but complain.
Skye had broken from the Court of Faerie, only much earlier than Cascade. Lord Rey ruled Skye Sidhe with an iron fist and a practical spirit, not a council of elders. Father had allowed Lord Rey and Skye’s citizens to remain apart, as long as they understood who was truly in charge. Lord Rey wasn’t pleased by King Finvarra’s return, but he’d relented. He had no choice. He would bow to the king or his sidhe would be absorbed by the court.
Father enjoyed doling out ultimatums.
His rules for Fionna and I were simple: We were to obey Father’s instructions and support Faerie by expending our own blood, sweat and tears, staying as far from the Cuvier clan and Caelen and his brood as possible. If we did not obey, he would send us to the misty land of Tir Na NOg, there to fade like the others of our kind.
Father would sometimes come to visit us in Skye, speaking of Fionna’s child Zerian, and of my son, Charles. I’d swallowed down the information, living for those moments. My son was powerful and would lead our armies against the demons. No father could feel more pride than I.
Unlike the Archdemon Naberia, Father had not been able to kill his children, despite the harm we’d done. And now, because of the upcoming war, Father had actually made the decision to bring us to Cascade. His explanation for this action covered only half the truth. He wanted us nearby where he could keep an eye on us, but Lord Rey was still refusing to enter his people into the battle and Father didn’t trust him.
Two of the school’s students sprinted past us, young females who were excited to test their new skills in battle.
One waved… “Greetings, Winter.” …then ran to catch up to her friend.
Only two beings in Cascade knew me as the former Lord Kennet, the king, our father, and Fionna. Yet I knew almost everyone. As Kennet, I’d spent many years of my adult life in Cascade, until I moved back to court. Father changed my shape, my aura, my magic, but he did not wipe out my memories. Now I live each day remembering every being I tortured, raped, or locked in a cage.
I used to feel they’d gotten what they’d deserved, but after feeling the whip on my back in the fields of Skye, I wasn’t so certain. That didn’t mean there weren’t people I wished to kill here in Cascade. It only meant I had to be much more patient.
“Jacqueline’s bratty students didn’t even acknowledge my presence.”
“You’re no longer the queen, dear sister. You are a servant.”
Fionna had been a terrible queen, leaving some fae to starve, others to waste away from the draining of life-giving magic. She’d kidnapped and tortured an ally and planned to marry off her daughter to an unwilling nephew. I’d been complicit, hoping to lure Jacqueline to my bed with the condition that it was the only way to save her mate’s life, but I would never have turned Faerie into a wasteland.
Despite the devastation he found, Father did not torture or enslave us, as Fionna would have done to him if she’d had the power. As I might have done in my former incarnation as Lord Kennet.
My transformation and the changes in our realm have given me reason to hope. Jacqueline is back in my life, as is Charles to a small degree. Faerie is blooming in more ways than the most obvious ones. Our king and Charles have restored Faerie using waves of elemental power, power that has strengthened more than just the land.
Fionna finally stopped her pacing. “I must go.” She lifted her head in defiance, expecting an argument. I didn’t disappoint her.
“You shall not.”
“I will never be content with our current lot in life. Content to hover at the edges as others threaten to destroy what we built together.”
“Firstly, I had very little to do with the state you left Faerie in. That was all you, dear sister. Much of our land was diseased and dying. It’s healthy again, no thanks to you.”
“Or you.”
“True. But at least I admit it.” I folded my arms and leaned against the waist high stone wall dividing the path from the rose garden.
“I am determined. My plan is sound.”
“You are taking a great risk. Few return from that journey.”
“I would rather die fighting for my home than giving English lessons to fae who with a little effort could learn the ugly language themselves.”
“The king will know you’ve gone,” I argued.
“But not where.”
“No. Not where.”
“Come with me, brother.”
At her words, I faced the direction of the school Jacqueline founded to train common fae females so they might fight in the great war to come. To protect themselves and their families. The warrior training had progressed well. A brilliant idea conceived by a beautiful mind. In turn I’d approached Lady Dinestri and suggested someone arrange the same training for the common males at court and in Cascade. They’d also never had the opportunities of the High Seelie Fae.
“I have work here in Cascade.”
“Every time you set foot in that building, you risk everything.”
“I have no choice. There is much to amend.”
“Your son will never forgive you,” she snapped, her acerbic personality rising to the surface.
“I do not imagine so, but I have been given a second chance at redemption, as have you. In either case, my path is clear.”
“And do you still desire Jacqueline?”
A twinge of sadness twisted its claws in my chest. Cheetah claws most likely. “No hope on that front.”
“You actually crave her forgiveness? You gave her a powerful child. Your heir. She should worship at your feet.”
I laughed, something I didn’t do often. “I don’t believe she sees my actions in quite the same way.”
As Lord Kennet I’d wanted an heir no matter the cost to Charlie’s mother, but my goals and my dreams transformed with my own transformation, narrowing to a pair of lavender eyes streaked with orange and ringed with green.
My son’s health and happiness were the only things keeping me in Cascade. Working with Jacqueline afforded me the opportunity to catch glimpses of him, even to speak with him on occasion. I’d thought what I’d wanted was an heir. But what I’d discovered was how much I yearned to be a father to my son.
Autumn smiled, her face brightening. She was not the incredible beauty she had once been, but to most eyes she was still lovely. Especially now that Faerie was restored. What Father had forgotten was with the rebirth of Faerie’s strength her people had gained in power as well.
With a great effort on our part, Fionna and I had stored and spun what little magic we could access, adding camouflaging spells of our own. We appeared as he made us, behaved as he expected. Stayed as far from his eyes as possible.
But Fionna still craved power, where what I craved more than anything was much more difficult to achieve.
“Farewell, Winter. I leave tonight.” My sister nodded in the formal way.
“Good journey, Autumn.”
I returned the nod and walked toward the school office, picking up my pace. At first my meager magic had been devastating, particularly the inability to take the lines to travel anywhere. But I’d grown used to walking, to taking the time to observe my surroundings for no other reason than to appreciate the beauty and the effort that went into Faerie’s creation. As I left the garden and took the stairs to the school entrance, I wondered idly if my sister understood that if her mission were successful, it would probably be the death of me.