Such troubling thoughts plagued my mind even as I settled into this paradise of a bed, certain I would never fall asleep. Yet sleep I did, though I dimly recall reaching out in the middle of the night, for the touch of a warm body that was not there.
I awoke with the indulgent feeling of having rested as much as I wanted, a sensation that generally preceded Eamon’s rod against my back. I shot upright, sick with guilt, my heart pounding.
Eamon was not here.
No one, either fae or mortal, would raise their hand against me again.
Or so you hope.For rulers have enemies, and Queen Una had lost her life.
I stared stupidly at the garlands draped from the ceiling, which came together in an elegant canopy. My bedposts were slender willows, hung about with flowering vines and the dancing lights of tarrans and pixies too small to fully behold. The coverlet, which someone must have draped across my slumbering body, seemed at first a solid green, but on second glance revealed all the colors of the forest; leaves shimmering in shades of green and gold.
And on the coverlet lay a hand, pale and smooth, slender fingers uncalloused as if they had never worked a day in their life. My hand, so unlike the hands of Bess-I-had-seemed, ruddy and calloused, hard worn from a life full of work. I raised it before me to marvel at, turning it this way and that in the eerie green light.
There came a sound of bells ringing, and a gentle rapping at the door.
“Your Majesty,” someone called out in dulcet tones. “Breakfast is served.”
Breakfast is served. And I not the one who must prepare it!I giggled at the thought, until I heard the creak of the doors opening.
I had not yet dressed.
“One moment, please.” My gaze flew desperately around the room, looking for something with which to cover myself. I was not among family, who knew me from head to foot, nor yet in the shepherd’s cottage—and he knew me that well from touch. I might well rule in Faery, but those I ruled were yet strangers, unfit to see me in my present state of dress. In a panic, I grabbed the coverlet and wrapped it around me; to my surprise, it grew sleeves and gathered around my middle.That seems convenient.A vine slithered serpent-like from around a bedpost and transformed itself into a cord of shimmering green silk. I tied it around my waist like a girdle and, in my wonder, almost forgot to call out, “Come in!”
My heart skipped a beat as I wondered if to call out thus had been wise. The daughter of a possibly murdered queen, and I had just invited an unknown stranger into my room. Immediately I wished I could recall my words, but it was too late.
The door opened, and in marched two small green fae, little taller than a four-year-old child. Their skin grew hairy enough to cover the essentials, or else their clothing was very snug; they wore curling slippers, or else had peculiarly shaped toes. Between the two of them, they carried a silver tray, which they set upon my nightstand, and uncovered to reveal the most luxurious repast I had ever seen. Venison, tender and glistening, dripped with succulent juice. Eggs so large I could barely fit both hands around them, no doubt from birds I had never heard of before. Fruit tumbled out as from the cornucopia of Fortuna: crimson apples, pears ripening at my touch, a spiky fruit cut in half to reveal juicy yellow flesh. And a loaf of bread glazed with honey, made from the finely ground flour only nobles are accustomed to eating.
“Am I expecting guests?” I laughed aloud, even while inside I wondered,Is this safe to eat?
The two small fae stood and stared at me, hands clasped behind them. Their dark eyes were as large as coins and did not blink.
“Never mind the hobs, Your Majesty,” said the same melodious voice as before. “They are not like to answer you in any case.” And an ethereally beautiful woman swept into the room.
Do not gawk,I reminded myself. But I could not help it. This newcomer made Glenna Baker look like a toothless hag. Tall and slender, she wore a long green gown and her rippling hair, the shade of pale butter, fell unbound to her hips. Her features were delicate but sharp, her clear eyes the shade of new leaves.
Something about her spoke trust, comfort, and safety, something I did not wish to doubt. And yet I must try her the only way I could think of.
“Do you intend me any harm?”
No offense showed on her exquisite face; she merely inclined her head and took a deep, ladylike courtesy. “By oak and ash, by willow and broom, I wish only to serve, and will defend you to the end of my days.”
The air grew thick, as with a mist almost turning into rain, redolent with the scent of daffodils, thick and green. Ease settled upon me, and a sensation that indeed I could trust her true. As well, something about her seemed uncannily familiar, but it took a moment to register what. “Pardon my staring,” I said, “but are you related to the knight Lyel?”
She smiled and set a bluebell face-down upon the table. “Our kinship is close, yes. As he is your knight, I am to be your chatelaine. In the future, you should ring”—and here, she lifted the bluebell and actually rang it—“if you have need for me.”
I picked up the bluebell and shook it; indeed, it did chime like an actual bell. I stared open-mouthed at my chatelaine.
Her eyes twinkled. “Since I am already here, a simple ‘Lileas’ will suffice.”
“Lileas, then.” I lowered the bluebell, feeling sheepish. “How long did I sleep? It felt like I slept the day away.”
She gave a delicate laugh as she began to carve into the venison with a silver knife. “As if that were possible.”
I cocked my head. ’Twas possible. I’d known Tavish to do it after he downed too much of Sorcha’s ale. Yet I sensed Lileas meant something more.
Elegantly she served the meat upon a plate shaped like an enormous leaf, then paused. “The day does not begin until you awaken, Your Majesty,” she explained. “Nor is it truly nightfall until you lay your head to rest. You are Faery, and Faery is you.”
I stared at her, my eyes narrowing.You are Faery, and Faery is you.I did not understand what she meant. “Outside, I saw neither sun nor moon. There is no dawn to announce day’s arrival.”
