“Greetings, water fae,” said the one on the right. “I have never seen one of them, sister, have you?”
“Never. She beams too brightly. You must douse your lights, girl, or you will hurt our eyes.”
“He does not hurt our eyes,” said the first, her tone dripping with seduction. She was identical to her sister. “Beasty is a feasty for my eyes.”
Their voices were sibilant and otherworldly. I didn’t simply hear them, I felt their words skating across my skin. They were old naiads. Very old.
“I apologize,” I told them with Redvyr kneeling beside me, who stared with both fascination and wariness. “My magick responds to the power you hold. I am a willoden.”
“Tsss,” the one on the left hissed. “We know what you are. You’ve been babbling—”
“Begging us,” chimed in the other.
“To come out and speak to you.”
“But you are more than that,” said the one on the right, gliding to the middle of the pool, her eerie silver-white eyes searching me up and down. “A syrenskyn, sister. That is what she is.”
“My, oh my.” The other slithered across the water without making a ripple, both of them coming closer. “Rare water fae, aren’t you, little girl?”
“My name is Jessamine,” I said politely, not bothering to correct their insult in calling me a girl. To them, I likely was one. But naiads, especially old ones, were moody creatures that could decide I wasn’t worth talking to and vanish before I ever got around to seeking the answers I needed. “I come from Morodon.”
“And yet, here you are in our mountain home in Ghastagar Valley.”
I looked at Redvyr, confused.
“That is an old name,” he said. “We call it Ghasta Vale now, my ladies.”
They both giggled, sounding much younger than the centuries old beings I knew they must be. “He calls us ladies, sister.”
“A long time since we’ve been called that.” They tittered again.
He crouched closer. They obviously liked him more than me. “I am Redvyr, Lord of the beast fae of Vanglosa.”
The naiad on the left glided toward our side of the pool, still not touching the rim of the well. “I am Bethevier. This is my sister Lethemier. We are pleased to meet the beasty lord who brings his people to sip at our well each winter.”
“I thank you for your kindness in allowing us to drink your cool waters.” He smiled and flirted back. “It keeps my clan healthy and strong.”
They laughed again, batting their long blue lashes. They were obviously infatuated with him. I couldn’t blame them, but it was irritating. We needed answers, not to engage in this ridiculous flirtation.
I rolled my eyes then nodded toward the sisters, meaning for him to ask the questions we needed the answers to. He understood.
“My ladies, our clan has had some trouble, and I’m wondering if you might be able to help us.”
“Speak, beasty,” said Bethevier. “We may answer.”
“And we may not,” said Lethemier, narrowing her gaze.
“I understand,” he said, though he honestly didn’t.
Naiads were fickle and moody and, yes, they could be quite vicious. These two might seem receptive and even benevolent, but they radiated with power and their ancient lineage. I could sense it so easily.
“Trouble has come to our clan here in Ghasta Vale,” he told them. “Fae monsters called grimlocks have come out of Wyken Woods and attacked our clan.”
Lethemier grimaced and hissed again, revealing a row of serrated teeth. “The grimlocks do not come from Wyken Woods, beasty lord.”
“They were born far beneath Mount Gudrun.” Bethevier twirled in a circle, ending up directly below Redvyr.
I knew my geography well enough to know that Mount Gudrun was the tallest mountain in the Solgavia Mountains, where the shadow fae lived.
