Chapter Twenty-Eight: Zerian

Finvarra summoned me to the ritual, as he did the rest of his line. I stood at the rear of the chamber, uncomfortable around the group of tall High Seelie who would give their blood this day. They were gathered in small groups, some chatting, some listening, most of them relaxed and smiling. They’d removed their tunics, leaving only shirts, leggings and boots. Some carried knives; others had left all weapons behind.

Charles was beside our grandfather, garbed only in loose-fitting black pants, trying his best to look confident. I hoped no one else noticed the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. I would have these warriors see him truly—as the young warrior who today risks his life for the people and the land of Faerie.

For whether he knew it or not, he was risking his life by performing the dangerous ritual. His blood is mixed as mine is, and if the realm does not accept his magic, he could die a slow and painful death. I doubted that one of these perfect seelie had warned him of that particular fact. Someone should.

I lifted my chin and ignored the others’ stares, striding forward and practically elbowing my way to the front. “Charles,” I said, nodding.

“Princess.” He returned my nod with a smile, his graceful hands slowly relaxing at his sides.

I would not blurt out my fears in front of everyone, but I could skirt around the issue. “I am certain all of Faerie appreciates what you are about to do. You are very brave to…to…”

“They’ve warned me, but don’t worry. The realm has already accepted me. I felt its approval when I first landed on solid ground after spinning in the vortex. I think the healer aspect of my nature calls to its pain. I believe I can help.”

Aedus’ daughter Linn moved closer, wrapping her arms around Charles’ shoulders and kissing him on the cheek as if they were more than cousins. Perhaps they were. He was certainly a male worthy of a High Seelie princess.

And I was a spy, a villain—sent to Faerie to gather three drops of his blood to bind him to my realm forever.

Charles kissed Linn on the forehead and stepped away. “I haven’t seen you in ages, cousin. You are more beautiful than ever.”

Linn did not blush as she was used to such compliments. “Thank you, Charlie. You’ve certainly changed as well.” She’d perused his bare chest and shoulders, like the seelie females usually did. Vixens, every one of them.

She turned toward me with an expression one might designate as dangerous. But I did not fear this child. Her lavender eyes sparkled with gold, a sign of her anger. “Zerian.” She waited for me to nod first, but I would not. I was after all, a princess in my own right, one more highly ranked than she was.

“Jacqueline.” Using her full name kept the conversation formal, which ensured a certain level of politeness. I smiled a half smile, but it was obvious a new tension had sprung between us. In the end, neither of us nodded.

Realizing at last I would not play her game, she twisted her body toward Charles once more, placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing it gently. She was taller even than Kaera, at least six foot two, and as beautiful as her mother, Philladre. They looked extremely well together, but Charles was not responding as she’d hoped. He was looking at me.

“I wish you well today, Charles.” The warmth in my brief smile was only for him, and before I turned away, I saw that he’d caught and returned it in kind. My heart warming, I kept my gaze focused on my chosen place at the rear wall where no one would pay me any more attention.

Each member of Finvarra’s line queued up, and when it was time, cut their own palms with their own daggers, signifying that the blood was given freely and without coercion. Each allowed their blood to drip into a crystal goblet, speaking the ritual words in the most ancient form of the Fae language.

 

In peace, we offer our heart’s blood and our most precious child in the hope that we might restore trust, bring forth life and create Balance where Balance has been destroyed. We ask that you accept our tribute as penance, and bring magic back to all who have suffered.

 

The cut crystal goblet glowed more brightly with each drop, depending on the power of the fae who offered it, its light spreading multicolored patterns on the plain white walls of the room reserved for rituals. Caelen, Dinestri, Jorenn, Argon, Aedus, Philladre, Linn, Liam, the list went on, all present except for Fionna and Kennet. When it was my turn the goblet glowed a deeper shade, then flared with a sudden intensity, unlike any before me. Grandfather smiled. My blood had been accepted.

The seelie who had finished donating were singing softly, a song whose words of rebirth and growth, health and vitality. The room hummed with life magic and unity. It was glorious but my hidden purpose cut into my soul like a knife through butter. How could I stand among these beings who sang of life and truth when what I was forced to do involved lies and the loss of freedom.

Hypocrites, my father would call them, but it was impossible not to be seduced by their harmonious tones and uplifting words. The music of this land had called to me from the moment I set foot here, and in secret; I’d learned to play many of the fae songs, leaving behind the songs of my unhappy childhood. Music had always lightened my heart, but here it brought me hope.

When they came to the end of the line, only Charles and the King remained. Grandfather was bare-chested like Charles, looking almost as young. Caelen, Aedus and Fionna took after the king in looks, but Kennet had not. Yet you could see a resemblance between Charles and Finvarra in the intensity of their energy and the seductive power of their charisma. They were both magnificent, brimming with power and bursting with energy.

When the bowl was full they moved the ritual outside, the singing taking on a stronger volume. Charles was asked to lie face up on the grass, his arms stretched out near his hips, palms up. Liam knelt by his right shoulder, cradling Charles’ face between his two hands. “Close your eyes, Charlie. I’m here to see you through to the end.”

Finvarra knelt by his left. “I’ll bring you home again, young warrior, whole and healthy.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Charlie’s consciousness was already drifting with the music, his heartbeat taking on the same rhythm. And he was smiling, buzzing with the combined magic of the group, his aura glowing gold and green and orange, a uniquely beautiful bloodline that took my breath away. I was so enraptured, I almost didn’t see the ancient blade until it cut across the young male’s chest.

He screamed and tried to escape, but Liam, Aedus, Brina and Caelen held him in place. I’d seen this ritual once before. Each time the High Seelie had survived. But this time, the donor was not a pureblood.

Finvarra allowed Charles’ exposed heart to pump his lifeblood into the earth, into the Realm, to feed the ancient Magicks of Faerie. Finvarra walked in a slow circle around his grandson, pouring the mixed blood on the ground, making a loop. The young prince disappeared the moment the loop was closed.

We were silent. Waiting for the Realm to return him whole or to destroy him.