I turned to see Simeon standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching me carefully with his wide, yellow eyes. His words snapped the final piece of the puzzle into place for me.
“These are your fay deities, aren’t they? The Twelve?”
“They are also yours, my lady,” Simeon said. “We might have left behind the rigid, organized type of worship humans are so fond of, but they are still with us…in their own ways.”
“Were they real?” I asked. “I mean…I know that some gods, in other places, they were once men…”
Simeon gave me a knowing half-smile. “I am not the oldest child of the Arden, but I am quite old. I have seen many things, both magyk and mundane, but I have never seen a god with my own eyes.” I looked at the image of the Huntress hanging above me, depicted as a young fay woman with tawny skin and short brown hair, aiming her bow while running beside a stag.
“Are there any books about them? In my own tongue?”
“Certainly.” Simeon pointed up the stairs. “Lyric…I mean, your mother was…somewhat of an aficionado on the subject. The loft was where she kept her personal collection. Would you like assistance?”
“No,” I murmured, “thank you.” He bowed, the horned owl feathers on his head twitching, then retreated. Faltering a little from nerves, I climbed the stairs, but stopped when faced with a thick black ribbon, tied from post to post across the top. Before removing it, I took a deep breath and steeled myself. Hearing about my mother, seeing the light-image of her Devil had created for me, was one thing, but this was her space. She had spent time here, been happy here, maybe even with my father. Setting my toe on the topmost stair, I gripped the banister to keep my hand from shaking. My emotions were already turbulent from the release of magyk, and I could not help being afraid. What lingering pieces of her would I find here? Strands of hair? Handwritten letters? Her scent? Would these remnants destroy me? Capsize the shoddy little raft I had built to keep myself afloat in this new life? Or would they buoy me up, lift me above the waves and keep me sailing onward?
After a moment of deep breathing, I dared to take the final step, and found myself in a cozy, low-ceilinged loft. The top of the library’s massive window let in a few golden shafts of sunlight, and there was a collection of round, tufted cushionsstrewn about the rug-covered floor. The shelves here were much shorter and held much more haphazard stacks of books and scrolls, interspersed with blown-glass orbs, uncut gemstones, and pieces of petrified wood carved into small figurines. It would have been completely welcoming, were it not for the layer of dust covering every surface. With every footfall, a tiny cloud puffed up around my boots, and the motes mixed themselves up with the thin tendrils of shadow pouring from my hands—a manifestation of the heart-wrenching grief and longing and quiet joy all tangled up inside me.
In one corner, I found a lectern with an open book perched on it. Beneath the stand was a basket, and I nearly fell to pieces when I saw a collection of small toys inside. They were crude, like anything a poor child in Nottingham might have. A cloth doll with hair made from yarn, dressed in gingham and lace scraps. A wooden horse on a wheeled platform. A rattle made from a painted turtle shell. I knelt and ran my fingers over the basket’s rim, but did not have the strength to touch any of the things inside. My shadows curled around the lectern, inching upwards like snakes and pulling my attention away from the unremarkable reminders of a life that had been torn from me. Brushing tears from my eyes, I stood and carefully swept dust off the dry pages of the displayed book.
It appeared to be an illuminated historical text, similar to the ones kept at Locksley Abbey. Gently as I could, I flipped it closed to see the title, which was blessedly written in my own language.Folk of the Arden Court.I turned a few pages at the front, then stopped on the interior title page.Histories, Songs, & Tales as recorded by Lyric, daughter of Queen Titania & King Oberon.
“You wrote this yourself,” I whispered, letting my fingers glide over her charming, looped signature. I closed the book again and pulled it from the lectern, then grabbed one of the round cushions and flipped it over, sending dust flying into my own face. Once I had finished sneezing, I placed the book on the cushion and tried to call up a small amount of my power, concentrating hard on what I wanted to do, and on what I was—Shadowspinner.
The shadows were my connection to the Arden and its elements. They did my bidding, or at least, they should. I twisted my hands, trying to imitate the way the air moved, the way it spiraled the dust in on itself in tiny whirlpools. My shadows slowly transformed from vines into faint waves and followed the same pattern. Once I had them wrapped around my torso like a ball, I shot my hands out and the shadows followed, taking the dust with them. This maneuver did not clear the entire loft, but it was enough for me to sit comfortably on the cushion, feeling pleased with myself.
Only five minutes later, however, I was hurrying down the stairs again, lugging the heavy book along with me. I nearly tripped on the final step and was grateful that the dress I’d picked only came as far as my ankles. When I regained my footing, I looked up to see Simeon watching me from a nearby table, his feathered eyebrows raised.
“A little less dust blown over the railing would be appreciated, my lady,” he said dryly.
For a moment, my face burned, and I forgot why I’d come down. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”
“Not to worry,” Simeon said, gentling his tone. “What can I help you with?” I set my mother’s book on the table in front of him, then flipped to the page I’d been marking with my finger.
“Is this true?” I asked, pointing at the colorful, two-page illustration and accompanying caption. “Did the Fair Folk and humans really live together once?”
Simeon pursed his lips in a patient smile and slid into a chair. I did the same, holding my breath. The image I’d found was one of the first in the book. I hadn’t been reading so much as soaking in the feeling of closeness that my mother’s writing and drawings gave me. But when I came across this particular story, I knew I needed answers. Sir Toby sauntered over and dropped his heads into my lap, expecting ear scratches, which I delivered as I waited for Simeon to speak.
“It is true,” he said slowly. “Many,manythousands of years ago, we did live side-by-side.”
“What happened?” I asked in a hushed tone, then admitted, “I’m afraid I did not read the entire chapter…” Simeon leaned back and threaded his long fingers together beneath his chin.
“I ought to start at the beginning, then. You asked me if the Twelve were ever ‘real’. In this story, you must suppose that they are, for this is the creation myth of the Fair Folk, and of humanity. The Twelve were all brothers and sisters, molded into being by the forces of nature—the very first living things. When they were younger and more curious, they worked together to make our earth and all its wonders. They made the sea and the clouds, the sun and moon and rain, the mountains and forests and rivers. Then, they made the animals. The creativity and playfulness of youth allowed them to mold whatever beings they could imagine, who lived on instinct alone and did not stop to wonder where they came from, or who made them, or why. For a time, the Twelve were satisfied with this. They watched their creatures grow and change according to their environment, they altered the earth as they saw fit, but otherwise interfered little. Eventually, however, some of them became restless. The Huntress and her twin brother, theMinstrel, were quite…competitive. They had already made the sun and the moon, the light and the shadow, day and night, so now they wanted to challenge each other once again. Each agreed to make a new sort of creature, in their own image, and then they would see which was better suited to life.”
Simeon flipped back a few pages in the book, showing me a banner of illustrations running along the bottom of the page. I followed along as he pointed and continued the story.
“The Huntress wanted to make people who were long-lived enough to gain true wisdom. She hoped that by giving her new people many centuries to learn and grow, they would be able to guide younger generations and be true stewards of the earth. She also granted them magyk gifts, so they could adapt to or control their environments. But shedidbend the rules of the agreement somewhat, giving her creations the features of different animals or plants, so they would understand that they were not set entirely apart from the natural world.” He reached up and ran a hand over his own feathers. I couldn’t help but smile, even as a small pang shot through my chest. I was still desperate and impatient to learn whether or not I had wings of my own.
“So, the Huntress createdallthe Fair Folk?” I asked. “Not only the ones in the Arden?”
“That is correct,” Simeon said. “The Arden was simply…her favored place, where she felt most at home. Ah, but I am getting ahead of myself now. Where were we?”
“The Huntress created faeries, and her brother created…”
“Mankind, yes.” Simeon cleared his throat and continued. “The Minstrel is a god of great wit and skill. He believed his sister’s choice to grant magyk and long life to her creatures was doing them a disservice. He wanted to make a race that would need to live by their wiles, by strength and cunning, rather than by magyk. And he wanted them to appreciate the short lives he gave them. He thought everything might taste sweeter to them, knowing they had precious little time. So, he created humanity. Some, he blessed with great intelligence, others with physical prowess, and others with charm or persistence or warmth. Gifts of the spirit, rather than gifts of magyk. They were made in all shapes and sizes, like we were, but without any features common to other forms of life, because the Minstrel wanted them set apart, to know they were different and special. And so, these two new peoples were set loose upon the earth. At first, it was quite peaceable, and we used our strengths to build great cities, communities, and to care for one another.”
Simeon turned the page to show me images on a new banner—fay and humans working side-by-side to construct mud-daub houses and plant rows of crops. Dancing, feasts, winged children carrying their human companions into the air, even a wedding between a fay man and a human woman. A small fist of sadness gripped my heart and twisted as I brushed a finger over the happy couple and their wedding party.
“Whathappenedto us?” I whispered.
