Dapple raised his head from the turf of grass. He flicked his tail and snorted. What had he now done?
“Not you,” Trisha amended, pointing around and nowhere at all. “It’s my magic.”
Her horse resumed his grazing, and Trisha exhaled before lifting the flute to her mouth, reminding herself why she’d come. To seek the company of an irreverent fairy full of mischief. To hear Rilka’s carefree laughter and learn what had transpired since they last talked. A few tentative notes left her flute. Their echo was tinny and off-tune, warbling like a bird that had not quite yet learned to sing.
Trisha frowned and puffed out a breath. Was it truly too much to ask for her instruments to obey her? First, the lyre refused to play right, and now this blasted flute.
She stroked the instrument. It trembled faintly, as if sulking. What if the lyre resisted her later tonight as well? What if she lost control of her magic like last night?
Refusing to give in to her doubt, she lifted the woodwind instrument back to her lips. The sounds stumbled and elevated as the flute willed, muddled and off-key, but she didn’t force it. Instead, she took her time, familiarizing herself with its touch, almost crude compared to the polished curves of her lyre and its cool, starlight-spun string.
Focus, she reminded herself.
Slowly, the flute warmed under her breath. Soft trills and whistles grew clearer. Note by note, the flute’s resistance eased until it sounded just like wind blowing through reeds. The melody twirled into the air, higher and higher. Trisha blew her message with the notes.
Rilka. I’m here.
When the last sound wisped away, she lowered the flute, waiting. Dapple grazed nearby, an edge of dark trees rimming the clearing. The markers at its edge—black obsidians gleamedin the twilight like uncut jewels. Beyond them lay the dark forest, its leaves shuffling in the soft breeze. Her eyes lingered there, a sensation of something or someone lurking just beyond her vision, watching her.
“Dapple,” she raised her voice without breaking eye contact with the waiting trees. “Don’t stray far.”
A stir in the air was her warning, and then a low, sinuous voice broke the stillness. “And where do you fear he’d stray?”
Trisha swallowed, heart jolting in her chest. She scrambled to her feet. “Shi’as. What an unpleasant surprise.”
Above her, the white-scaled snake flashed a fanged smile. His amber-lit eyes shone with an uncanny light as his serpentine body descended, coil by coil, only a breath away. Too close with his sharp fangs and his knowing, black-slitted eyes.
“IthoughtI recognized your tune.” Shi’as’ forked tongue licked the air as he locked his predatory eyes onto the small instrument. “Your flute’s screeching broke my slumber, but expecting more from you would be too much to ask. After all, youneverdid hold respect for your elders.”
A shiver ran through the giant serpent, and the white scales rippled, slotting into each other like a jigsaw as he repositioned himself. The ancient fae lifted his muscular neck, and his tapered head approached. Dark, jagged horns glinted in the twilight like curved blades.
“Sucha tragedy to brave its jarring tunes, but one must take pleasure where it’s found.” His deep laughter shook the ground.
Trisha flicked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and met the snake’s stare without a flinch. “You’re wasting my time, Shi’as. I have no need for your insults.”
“Insults?” he repeated. “Youwoundme. I’dnevermock my favorite mortal, not even when she fails to hold a tune.” He slithered closer, the air shivering. “It seems you’ve forgottenmy teaching during your time under the mortal sun’s light. All those arduously carved lessons.What a loss. It’s a good thing I found you.”
Trisha’s stomach dropped. “I’m not here for your twisted lessons.” She clenched the flute. “The last one you gave me was quite enough.”
Shi’as breathed as he circled her, the white coils bending the grass. “Tell me, Trisha. How have you fared since I showed you the truth and you decided to abandon us?” He flicked his tongue. It quivered as though he were tasting her essence. “Did youfinallyfind them, your negligent parents? Discovered the reason they abandoned you?”
“Not your business,” she muttered, trying to avoid his slit eyes. But she found herself unable to move, those daggerlike pupils holding her in place. They pierced her, and all she could do was hold them at arms’ length. Cold sweat broke through as she fought against the pressure building in her skull. The gleam of Shi’as’ amber eyes brightened. He chuckled.
“Why, Trisha. Failing despite all my advice,” he purred, retreating into a massive, looped pile of scale and skin. “Tsk, tsk. Such a crushing devastation.”
“I haven’t failed,” she snapped.
“You haven’t?Then, what a wonderful thing, to finally know the truth behind your abandonment. You must share it with me, my mortal.”
Trisha forced herself to break eye contact. As she did, the alien presence in her mind eased.
“I… I cannot,” she whispered. The words tasted like ash. “I haven’t found them yet.”
“And? Was itthatbad, admitting the truth?” Shi’as’ words were like broken glass, tearing into her soul. “You know better than to keep secrets from me by now, don’t you?”
She forced the pain and hurt to the bottom of her mind, sodeep he couldn’t sense them. “If you’re so vested in the truth, why don’t you tell me where to go? You told me I’d find answers in the mortal world, Shi’as.”
He rumbled a deep sound, a laugh. “That’snothow it works, Trisha. How else can I ensure you learn?”
