Faye was appalled by the idea of being watched at all, never mind the chilling idea that her and Finn’s sexual activities in some way fed their onlookers. Fed how?
‘And, may I say, it suits you. You were entrancing. Every fae wanted you for their own consort,’ he added.
She pushed past him, back into the bedroom.
‘How dare you treat me like some kind of…sex slave! I’m not your whore, Finn. I’m not…not anyone’s whore?—’
He followed her; Faye felt his bare chest press lightly against her back and shoulders.
‘Never my whore, Faye Morgan. Only ever my willing lover,’ he murmured in her ear.
She was horribly confused. Finn’s touch aroused her; it was unfailing, electric. Yet, the fleeting memories of the last few days’ revelries fuelled her anger. She had believed this was a place of magic, of beauty. She had come here willingly. But she felt sick, exhausted, and now that the permissive haze of faerie had started to slip, she could see cracks in its beautiful veneer.
Finn touched her shoulder lightly, then walked around the bed to the table where a breakfast had been left. He poured a green liquid into the two goblets and offered her one. Too late, Faye remembered that humans were never supposed to eat and drink in the faerie realms: to do so risked sacrificing their health in the human world.
‘I didn’t think humans should eat or drink in the faerie world. Perhaps I shouldn’t have.’ Her head echoed; everything was too bright. She wanted to close her eyes. Her anger sat at the bottom of her stomach, not gone, but waiting.
‘Ah.’ He smiled and sat beside her on the bed, biting into a fruit that was somewhere between an apple and a persimmon. ‘But that rule doesn’t apply to you,sidhe-leth.’
‘Why not?’ she asked tiredly.
‘I thought you knew. You are half fae.Sidhe-leth.I have told you this already.’ He chewed the fruit, watching her keenly.
‘I still don’t believe it.’ She sat on the bed.
‘You are half one of us, half human. Your father was of the faerie realm,’ he added.
Faye gaped at him, open mouthed. ‘What?’
‘Your father was a faerie king,’ he said, sitting next to her and taking her hand.
‘My…my father? But I never knew him. He left us,’ she stammered. ‘He was just some guy. Mum said…he didn’t want to be tied down. He was violent towards her, I think. He wasn’t…a…’ She broke off and stared at Finn, who took another bite of the fruit and shrugged. ‘Does that mean…am I…are you…my…?’ She felt sick at the thought, but stupid not to have realised immediately what he could have meant.
‘No, I am not your blood.’ Finn made her look at him, serious now. ‘That would not be the way of a king. Your mother loved another.’
‘Who?’ Faye stood up. ‘I demand to know who my father is. It’s my right.’
‘I will not hold that information from you if you seek it. His name is Lyr. He is the King of Falias, the faerie realm of earth. He rules that kingdom with his sister, the Faerie Queen Moronoe.’
‘Lyr.’ Faye remembered Moddie drawing his name in the sand. ‘He threatened to kill my mother.’
‘That is as may be. Still, he is your father. This is how you came so easily into the faerie world, Faye. You would have found your way here much sooner were it not for the fear your forebears instilled in you. Your ancestors were burned for consorting with us, for learning our gifts. And, since your grandmother has passed, you and your mother have lapsed inyour responsibilities. You have not honoured us in the way that we demand.’
Faye thought of Grainne Morgan, burned at the stake, spirited away by the Good Folk at the last minute, so that she could avoid the torture of her final moments.
‘Indeed. Grainne Morgan was knowledgeable in our ways,’ Finn said, as if he was reading her thoughts. Perhaps he was; Faye had no idea if that was something he could do. ‘That is why she was saved. Even though Grainne faced persecution for her work, she never failed us. Grainne kept the old ways, made us offerings, observed the seasonal rites. Grainne and the Morgans before her – and the others like her – kept the balance. You do not.’
‘But why didn’t they tell me about being half faerie? Moddie and Grandmother?’ Faye felt sick again.
‘I suppose they wanted to protect you. But connection to us is how you gain real power. Your great-grandmothers had real power; they lived alongside us. Learned our ways, honoured our lands. They made the appropriate sacrifices: a baby at Midwinter, a woman at Midsummer.’
‘I always thought that was symbolic, the sacrifices. You’re not saying that was real?’ Faye stared at Finn incredulously.
‘Midsummer, Midsummer, Midsummer delight;
go to the faeries on Midsummer night
Take thee a maiden, take thee a wife –
