I am called Bess, youngest daughter of Eamon Grieve. But it is not who I am. I am the cuckoo’s child, given to Mairi Grieve, who served our late, beloved Queen Una as midwife.
No. Not given to Mairi Grieve.Takenby Mairi Grieve.
I pictured her standing in the doorway of the old cruck house, shouting at the fae outside: “Ye will not take what I have claimed!” And later, her whisper, “I was only trying to protect a child.”
Which child? Whose?
Una’s daughter had a mortal father. So had Amadan said. The babe would have been half mortal like I was.
Had she survived.
Mortals can lie.
A quiet assurance welled forth from my inner core.
The Lord of the Hunt spoke like thunder receding in the distance. “Can you answer, changeling? Do you at last know your true nature?”
I must reply. There was no other salvation for Thomas, or for me.
“I was raised by a mortal midwife, Mairi Grieve. She was brought to Faery to deliver the daughter of the queen.” A queen who died, but bore a living daughter, who would claim the throne of Faery in time.
It appeared that time was now.
“I am that daughter,” I said in quiet wonder.
All at once, in a terrifying creak of armor, the cadaverous Huntsmen dropped to their knees. The forest filled with a radiant green light and in a single voice, horrifying and glorious, they spoke.
“My queen.”
Samhain
I cannot, not for pity, notfor the affection I once showed Thomas Shepherd, spare his descendant and let Faery die.
I must make these mortals understand. And so, I show them Faery. Let them know what will be lost forever if I do not take Tam Lin’s life. For Janet’s benefit mostly, I make the Veil invisible so all of Faery is in clear view. Not shadows on the walls, not glimpsed in the distance through the hollow of a tree, not leaking into Carterhaugh when the Veil grows thin. But Faery itself, in all its enchantment and splendor, all the magic of creation retained in one place.
How powerful a sight it was. Still is. Whenever I return from my travels to the mortal realm, I feel like I have been caught in a long and dreary sleep, and wake to wonder yet again.
Janet’s mouth drops open, and her eyes grow wide. She steps forward, though she cannot cross the barrier, and reaches out a hand, as on the other side of a prison wall. I wonder whether her mortal senses fully encompass it, if she feels the presence of the dryads in the trees and the sylphs who slide their way in and out of the forest. Can she hear the nixies who join their laughter to the lapping of the stream?
I can, and I feel suddenly homesick, for a place I only left hours before.
Janet stares spellbound at the twisting spires of my distant palace, purple as dusk, grey as a shepherd’s eyes, deep and soft as the shadows right before one falls asleep. She turns to look at me. “This is Faery? Really Faery, not just a glamour you have conjured forth?”
I should feel insulted, but I only nod, smiling benevolently. “This is what I am working to save. This is what will be lost if I do not take Tam Lin’s life.” Silently I add,This is Faery and Faery is me.
The sweet and spicy scents of eglantine and primrose waft forth, wrapping around us both as Janet takes a deep breath. The bushes rustle, then part, and a tiny rabbit hops out, perfectly ordinary except for the fact it is green.
Phouka,I think with a smile.
From behind a nearby birch tree a shy ghillie dubh peeks out. We catch a glimpse of his dark hair and the mossy suit he wears before he vanishes.
“It is everything I imagined it was,” Janet says.
Tam Lin puts a hand on her shoulder, frowning. “It is not like that for us.”
Janet breaks free of the spell, faces him with a frown.
“They dance us mortals to exhaustion, pull us out of our own time and send us back after all we knew is dead,” Tam Lin says.
