The Cycle Novella (Pt.2)
As it turned out, the voyage to Tír Na nÓg, or “The Land of Youth”, the island the Fae called home, was not exactly the romantic, cotton-candy and sex-filled dream that I had pictured it would be. After filling a small leather satchel with everything I’d deemed “essential” at Dierdre’s, Bres and I had sailed northeast from the rocky coast of Kinvarra and straight out into the North Atlantic.
It was a two week journey to Tír Na nÓg, which may seem like no time at all for someone who likens sailing to being on a cruise, martini-in-hand; but the actual reality of being tossed across bitter winter waters in a nearly constant state of hypothermia was enough to make me want to swear off anything related to water for the rest of my life.
Logically, as Tír Na nÓg is practically considered to be one of the modern-day world’s best kept secrets, it would only make sense that actually getting there would be quite the challenge in and of itself. I, however, hadn’t really considered that little tidbit when I had let my stupid impulsive nature take the reins once again and agreed to come with Bres.
Those two weeks might as well have been a lifetime. The arctic winds of the open ocean had crunched down into my very marrow. No number of blankets or sweaters seemed to be enough to stave off that hungry, devouring maw of unyielding ice. The closer we got to Tír Na nÓg, the rougher the ocean became. In the last days of our voyage, I’d even had the thought that Bres’ sailboat, which had looked enormous and sturdy on the dock in Kinvarra, would be swallowed by the angry seas that tossed us around as easily as a bath toy.
The sky was dark above Tír Na nÓg when Bres had announced we were finally approaching land. It seemed odd to me, the darkness, as I had figured it couldn’t have been more than half-past two in the afternoon. The waters had finally stilled around us, as Bres’ boat slunk through the thick, milky fog that clung to my skin in an uncomfortably humid embrace. The current had calmed considerably, as if it changed its mind after fighting so hard against us. In fact, it felt as if the waters around Tír Na nÓg were actually pulling us in now, like an oblivious fish being reeled in to meet its certain death.
I stood on the bow, as still as a figurehead, with my hands braced tightly around the railings as if the still waters would decide to churn again at a moment’s notice.
I was desperately trying to see beyond the fog, for any sign of the “land” Bres claimed we were close to, when I felt a familiar wall of solid muscle press against my back. A shudder of pleasure rippled down my spine as I felt his strong jaw nuzzle into the side of my face. I pressed into the perfect curve of his taut body and breathed in the vanilla, cedarwood, and bonfire scent that somehow still clung to him despite the fact we hadn’t had a proper bath in over a fortnight.
“Where is it? Tír Na nÓg?”
Bres wrapped his thick arms around my waist like a life vest, and dipped his head, indicating that it was dead ahead.
I turned my chin towards him, confusion furrowing my brow, as I met his sea glass eyes.
“I’m serious. I can’t see anything through all this fog.”
“Ach, I’d almost forgotten, mo ghrá.”
Bres untangled himself from me and spun me around to face him.
“Wha-”
Before I could even get the question out, he leaned in and blew out a long, deep breath across my eyes. I laughed, waving a palm in front of me playfully to escape the tickling sensation his breath had stirred across my lashes. Bres didn’t laugh though, he merely stared expectantly, with one dark eyebrow lifted in question.
“Well, tell me what ye see now, Aine.”
I whirled, facing the bow, as I felt my breath hitch in the back of my throat.
As if his breath had parted the fog, there, before us I could see a massive plateau of rocky land stretched out like the white Cliffs of Dover. Still shrouded beneath the darkened sky, massive, and intricate structures as tall as mountains jutted up proudly from the terrain. A city, I realized. Tír Na nÓg was lit up like Christmas time, lights of all colors twinkled cheerfully amongst the buildings, dancing in the city’s countless windows as if to greet us.
“It’s-,” I couldn’t find the words to describe the ethereal beauty that lay before me.
“Home,” Bres breathed against my ear. Surprisingly, his voice was filled with a wonder that matched my own, despite the countless times I knew he had probably seen it.
I’d been about to comment on the shining gold of the Byzantine-style onion domes I saw perched atop the tallest towers in the city, when Bres gripped me by the elbows and spun me to face him once again with seriousness creasing the lines around his full mouth.
“Aine, I’ve no’ told ye everything about me.”
I pressed a palm up to Bres’ now-scruffy cheek, “It’s okay, we have all the time in the world now-,”
He stopped me short, “When we get there, there is still something we need to do. It’s important for us to be together, ye understand?”
I nodded, still confused, but waited for him to go on.
“Do ye love me, Aine?”
I hesitated. Did I love Bres? I mean, if I was being completely honest with myself, no. It had only been a month and some change since we’d met. But, I suppose, since he was the father of my unborn child, and I really liked him, and he was my supposed soulmate... I could love him. Eventually, though. I wasn’t sure love worked that fast. At least, not for me.
The intensity of his gaze suddenly felt cold and reptilian upon my face. Almost as if he had stepped into my mind and pulled the answer from it before the words could form on my tongue to break the news.
“We must see the Queen of Tír Na nÓg when we arrive, Aine. I am-” he struggled to find the right words, “-well, as the Prince of my realm I can no’ be with a halfling if ye do no’ …” He struggled again, the words coming out as thick as molasses on his tongue, “She will no’ let will no’ let us be together... if ye do no’ say ye love me.”
There was an edge to his voice, an edge I’d only heard him use with Dierdre. Almost like… disgust. He must really hate her, the Queen.
Did Bres love me, though? I searched his eyes, looking for any traces of hurt, but only found two flat, emotionless shards of ice staring back at me. Well, I did kind of reject him… So, considering everything, I guess he’s handling it pretty well.
“I really like you Bres, it’s just… everything has happened so fast… and I mean, I could… like I could love you eventually… but-” I stopped, sensing the familiar hot flush of embarrassment creep across my freckled cheeks. Thanks a lot, word-vomit.
Bres blew out a wary, tired sigh, “I dinnae say ye had to love me, mo ghrá. I said ye have to tell her ye love me.”
I took him in. The tousled blue-black curls. The sure, confident set of his shoulders. The hard line of his jaw. The considerate, gentleness that had, thankfully, returned to his sea glass eyes.
I still wanted to ask about the prince part (would that make me a princess?) but I decided by the grim expression on his face, I could save that one for later.
“What will happen if she can tell I’m lying?” I said, a hint of fear for what might happen to Bres, to me, making my voice as wobbly as jello-salad.
His large rough palm smoothed down my tangle of blonde hair, before moving to cup my chin.
“She will no’ find out, Aine. As a halfling, ye still have the ability to lie. But, as soon as we touch the shore, ye will soon find out that ye will be one of the few on the island who can do so.”
My eyes widened in shock, “You can’t lie?”
Bres chuckled at my sudden burst of enthusiasm, “No, I can no’ lie on Tír Na nÓg. I’ll also look a wee bit different, so don’t be surprised when ye see me ears.”
I couldn’t help myself. I burst out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Bres frowned, which only made me laugh harder.
“I-I’m sorry,” I wheezed, finally able to speak. “It’s not funny, but... I just pictured those big elf ears that Santa’s helpers have... but on you.”
“They’re no’ big!” Bres said, a little too defensively.
I snorted, “Well, well. I didn’t know how big of an insecurity it was for you.”
Bres grimaced at the lame joke and ruffled my hair playfully.
“Alright, alright… I promise, when I see them, I won’t make a big deal.”
“That’s enough out of ye, lass!” Bres bellowed, with a wicked smile as his fingers quickly found that oh-so-sensitive spot beneath my arms and tickled mercilessly.
We were both breathing heavily (Bres from laughter, me from crying) when he finally conceded and said, “Okay, mo ghrá, help me dock this boat, and remember what I said.”
I nodded, still slightly afraid of this all-powerful Fae Queen. I could lie, though. I would lie. I would do it for Bres. I would do it for us, and our family.
After we’d docked the boat and gathered up our meager belongings, I quickly found that the journey up to Tír Na nÓg would be about as easy as the boat ride here.
The eerily silent, but obviously well-kept dock, was connected to a set of roughhewn steps at its end that were buried into the cliff face, seemingly stretching up forever.
“Is there another way up?” I asked hopefully.
Bres shot me a withering glance. I take that as a no, then.
The night air was cool, and a ghostly breeze whistled through the hollowed-out stone as we climbed for what felt like hours. I had to stop several times to catch my breath before we reached the top. Each time, I’d had to remind myself not to look out from where we stood on the precarious set of un-railed stairs. Even though I’d always enjoyed rollercoasters, heights of any kind other than those at theme parks had always terrified me. It was kind of like how I really liked ketchup, but hated tomatoes. It didn’t make sense, but it still didn’t keep me from feeling as if my stomach had dropped to my toes every time, I got a peek at how far up we’d climbed.
“So… if you’re a… prince of your realm… why do you have to… report to this Queen,” I called in panting breaths ahead to Bres who had maintained a steady pace of about twelve steps ahead the whole way up.
“Because she is the Queen of all of Tír Na nÓg, Aine. Our lands are broken into eight realms we call the Wandering Courts. Grian, Gealach, Mearcair, Véineas, Mars, Iúpatar, Satarn, and Plútón. She rules over them all.”
Planets, I realized. Their courts or realms, or whatever they called them were named after planets.
“Which one are you prince of? And why planets?”
I could almost hear Bres’ eyes roll, “The planets just mark the elemental power and traits we inherit from birth. I am the Prince of Mearcair.”
My legs were sandbags. I almost thought I’d have to start using my arms to lift them up the worn steps. Even though I could tell Bres was starting to get annoyed with the interrogation, I didn’t care. I needed a distraction from the white-hot knife of exertion that was currently slicing through my thighs.
“So, Prince of Mearcair means…?” I prodded.
Despite Bres’ body being in tip-top condition, I could hear him beginning to pant. Good. At least, I wouldn’t have to feel so bad about how out of shape I was now.
“It… means… I can wield earth. I can make it do what I want.”
I stumbled a bit in surprise, “What like magic?”
“Yes, like magic. I can cause earthquakes, and grow plants, speak to animals…”
“You can… speak to animals?”
Bres grumbled a bit at my disbelief, “Among other things, yes.”
“If you can do all of that, then what can the Queen do?”
Suddenly, I could hear the familiar sounds of a bustling city above. Tír Na nÓg. We were here, at last.
A jolt of adrenaline cracked through my spine like a whip. My weary legs suddenly felt like feathers and I shot into a jog, catching up to Bres just as he’d reached the very last step.
“Remember what I said, Aine. Fae are no’ keen on outsiders, don’t draw any unnecessary attention to yerself,” Bres whispered, tugging the thin hood of the too-big cloak I’d borrowed from him over my head.
I didn’t know why he’d have to whisper in a place as busy or as loud as Tír Na nÓg, but I nodded once and stepped onto the cobblestone path that led into the city.
Bres followed, and as I looked back a faint glimmer seemed to wrap around his body before rippling away into the cool night air. I blinked. Once. Twice. Holy shit. His ears were huge! Well, not massive like a Christmas elf per se, but way larger than any regular humans’ ears. And pointy. So pointy! They were almost like party hats. His face seemed different too. Not his features but… something else. His face was sharper, harder than it had been when he was in his “human” form. Still beautiful but...almost…cruel in a way.
Bres didn’t give me time to poke fun at his party hat ears, quickly grabbing my hand and leading me into the depths of the ancient Fae city.
In a way, it was almost European. The intricate gothic architecture and the carefully placed alcoves that no doubt led into shops and homes. But, like Bres, there was also something distinctly different about this place. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but as he led us through the crush of beautiful bodies that filled every inch of the streets, I could feel a black oiliness begin to grow in the pit of my stomach. Nerves, Aine. It’s just nerves.
Not drawing attention to myself was easier said than done. At first, I tried to keep my head down and focus on the immaculate cobblestone beneath my stained boots. So clean for a big city like this! But I kept getting this niggling feeling of temptation that made it hard to keep my eyes trained down for very long. Three seconds, I decided. I would count to a minute and then I could look up for three seconds. It seemed like a reasonable rule. Not too suspicious, just a normal Fae girl walking along the streets of Tír Na nÓg with her Fae boyfriend, just like everyone else.
Well, it would’ve been a good rule, if only I had the self-control. The first time I’d looked up, I found myself completely and utterly entranced by the place. Little lightening bugs or… No! Little tiny people that I could only describe as pixies flitted around playfully above the street like fluorescent hummingbirds.
Vendors, similar to those in Kinvarra, touted their wares in loud jovial tones, only, here I couldn’t recognize anything they seemed to be selling. Crystals and jewels and herbs I’d never heard of seemed to be commonplace market items here.
I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but an enchanting folk tune filled with the rhythmic melody of flutes and fiddles spilled across the city, urging my feet to step along to the beat. I felt Bres’ hand tighten around mine as he tugged my ever-slowing body a bit faster. I didn’t want to see the Queen. I wanted to stay here. I wanted to dance and shop and play.
“Keep moving, Aine,” Bres said gruffly, wrenching me through another crowd of tightly wedged bodies.
Bastard. I didn’t know what the rush was about. My heart began to pound in time with that lovely music. Stay, stay, stay, it seemed to say through every beat in my chest.
“Bres, can’t we just-” I said drowsily, yawning a bit as I forgot what I’d been about to ask.
“No, Aine,” Bres said sternly from ahead. “Ye must resist it, it is the magic of Tír Na nÓg, trying to lure ye in.”
I grumbled defiantly, still feeling as if I was in a daze. Everything here was so beautiful. Everyone here was so beautiful. They wouldn’t hurt me. No one that beautiful would hurt anybody.
“Damn ye, Aine,” Bres cursed beneath his breath.
We were stopped suddenly, amidst a crowd that had formed around a street performer perched atop a platform. She was dressed in robes the color of cherry pie, with white, starlight hair that fell to her waist in thick waves. She seemed to be calling for a volunteer, I went to raise my free hand but felt the cold iron of Bres’ unrelenting grip clamp down on me.
“Hey! I was gonna-” I protested.
Bres slapped his other palm across my mouth, dragging me into the nearest alleyway. It was dank and shadowy here, silent except for the incessant drip of an unseen pipe. It immediately made me long for that beautiful, warm, lavender-scented street once again.
“Eat this, now,” Bres commanded harshly.
I shook my head, sticking out my lower lip in a childish pout.
Bres, it seemed, was not having it. In less than a second I felt my head being forced back and my mouth thrust open by his thick, meaty fingers. I’d had half the mind to bite him, had it not been for the mouthful of salt that followed and choked me completely. I tried to spit it back out, but I’d definitely swallowed at least half a handful of the acrid stuff before it was all said and done.
“Bres! What the hell!” I shouted, still coughing and trying to scrape my tongue with my sleeve to get that awful taste out of my mouth.
“I’m sorry, Aine. It had to be done. I overestimated yer ability to be able to resist Tír Na nÓg, since yer half-Fae but…”
“Excuse me?” I hissed, pushing away his extended palm.
Bres reached his hand towards me again, “The Fae world is very different than yer world, Aine. I am no’ proud to say it but...long ago, humans were used by Fae for entertainment.”
He shook his head in something that seemed like shame, causing a cluster of perfect blue-black curls to fall loose across his brow.
“Our songs would make them dance until they died, and our food would make them pliable and willing to do anything we asked of them. That is why Dierdre says we are dangerous. We were. It is no’ like that anymore but… the temptation and danger for humans is still here, regardless. Salt is your only real protection here.”
I spat again, unable to get the last bitter traces of salt from my tongue.
“So, you’re saying… Fae used to kidnap humans and keep them around for entertainment?”
Bres sighed, almost ashamed, “Yes, Aine. Among other things, yes.”
Among other things. It seemed to be his favorite phrase today, and I was quickly growing tired of hearing it.
Begrudgingly, mostly because I had no other option, I took Bres’ hand. Yes, I decided, he would be explaining a lot to me later. After we get this damned Queen thing out of the way.
“Fine, let’s go do this and go home.” Wherever home was now.
The closer we got to the Queen’s palace the more crowded it seemed to become on the streets. I’d given up on apologizing to every person I’d accidentally slammed into trying to keep up with Bres’ long strides. The buildings even seemed to be getting more and more luxurious if that was even possible. Every doorway and arch of each building was covered in bright gold metal plating and set with massive gemstones that sparkled too brightly to be faux imitations.
My eyes watered at the startling array of opulent, rich colors that paraded through the streets. Apparently, the height of Fae fashion was to be as loud and ostentatious as possible. It almost reminded me of the Parisian fashion of the 1800’s we'd studied my sophomore year in world history.
Wildly intricate dresses and suits full of chiffon, lace, and heavy embroidery were draped across nearly everyone we passed. Gaudy hats of enormous height towered atop the heads of the already impossibly tall Fae, giving everyone here an air of incomparable wealth and status. I felt hideously under-dressed in Bres’ simple cloak, my favorite, albeit, ripped-to-hell jeans, and chunky-knit sweater. I didn’t have to force my eyes down now; my mortification did all the work for me.
I only knew that we had reached the Queen’s palace when I felt my boots sink into a plush material that was as thick as sponge instead of the familiar hardness of the cobblestones. The carpet before us was the deepest purple I’d ever seen, almost black like the coat of a panther. It was easily the softest thing I’d ever stepped foot on, and I’d immediately had the urge to curl up into a ball and fall asleep right there.
The palace itself was beyond words, after going up two flights of those memory foam stairs I found myself standing before the largest doors I’d ever seen. Gilded in a gold so marvelous it looked molten, the massive doors of the entryway seemed like they had been made to fit three elephants that were carrying giraffes on their backs. Carved into their faces were scenes of wars I did not recognize. Proud looking Fae males with fine armor were perched atop the backs of countless great beasts that had no doubt been slain by their victorious hand. Above them all, resting delicately atop a marvelous throne in the clouds was a sensual-looking woman of about thirty. It had been carved so beautifully; I’d almost believed it was a photograph at first. Her face was noble and although I’d not seen her yet, I’d know that she was undoubtedly the Queen.
Six guards dressed in exquisitely tailored livery in the same over-ripe plum hue of the carpet stepped forth from the doors to greet us. Why did everyone look so damned young here?
Like, I get that it’s called the “Land of Youth” or whatever, but I hadn’t thought it was going to be a literal description of all of the people that lived here. I’d yet to see one person over the age of thirty-five since we’d arrived. The guards seemed little older than eighteen at most.
The one who I’d assumed to be in charge, mostly due to the taller height of his ridiculous poufy hat approached us before realizing it was Bres and dropped into a low bow.
“Open the doors!” he commanded his counterparts in a brogue accent similar to Bres' before dipping into a low bow again and saying, “Excuse me, yer highness. I did no’ recognize ye in those clothes.”
I scoffed at the obvious snub but Bres remained stoic, nodding coolly at the boy before leading me into the palace.
The inside of the palace was even more pretentious than the doors, if that was even possible. The carpet from the stairs cut straight through the polished white marble floors and stopped at an enormous jewel-encrusted dais. Fat columns of white and gold flecked marble that matched the floors stood alongside the carpet, obviously directing any who entered straight towards the clear focal point of the room. The Queen's throne. Which I had to admit, did in fact, resemble the heavenly throne depicted on the palace entrance. Despite the heavy carpet that muffled our footsteps, I felt as if each thud of my plain, worn boots was echoed through the cavernous hall.
I looked up to find more victorious depictions of war painstakingly painted across every inch of the domed ceiling above. It felt almost as if I was entering the gates of heaven to meet God himself. Still, despite being surrounded by luxury, the slithering oily beast of fear that had found a home in my belly hadn’t quite left yet. I found my palms begin to break into a cold anxious sweat as I met the eyes of the Queen of Tír Na nÓg.
I supposed the angelic depiction of her throne hadn’t been too far of a stretch after all. She was unequivocally celestial. Her beauty quite literally knocked the breath out of me. I’d forgotten how to breathe momentarily as my eyes locked with those heavily lashed amethyst orbs. The carving on the doors of her palace really did her no justice at all. I had the fleeting thought that, if I had been in her place, I would have sentenced the artist who carved it to death for such an awful rendering. She was a living meteor. Her hair was so deep and rich, it seemed almost impossible to determine exactly was shade it was, like a tapestry of endless colors woven together to create one solid masterpiece that blazed and shifted hues as her delicate chin shifted to examine us. Her very skin seemed to soak up the light around her, glowing from within like a distant star.
I’d been so absorbed in gawking at her impossible beauty that I’d not even noticed the eight thrones that we set in the dais steps below her, all filled, save one, with men and women of equally otherworldly beauty. Hot tears pricked my eyes. I wiped at them furiously before they could fall. Shame once again made my face glow, but it truly was difficult not to be moved by the beauty before me.
Bres sank to a knee before the woman, and I quickly followed suit.
“My dear Bres, so lovely to see you and your... companion,” she sang, her voice as hauntingly exquisite as the trill of a thousand songbirds. She had no trace of an accent, as the others did. It somehow made her even more frightening than before.
“My Queen,” Bres said, finally rising to meet her eyes.
She let out a delightful little giggle, clearly amused by something funny I hadn’t caught.“Oh, Bres, I do believe we’re past formalities, don’t you?” Her gaze was feline and almost… seductive. Yes, definitely seductive. Her deep mulberry eyes roamed across Bres hungrily, lingering far too long to be mistaken for anything other than lust.
Bres dipped his head again, “My apologies, Morrígan.”
She chuckled once again before clapping her slim palms together sharply, “That’s the Bres I know. Now, just what have you brought for me today?”
Bres wrapped an arm around my waist pulling me close to his side protectively, “This, is Aine.”
Queen Morrígan lounged lazily on an elbow, looking bored as she examined her perfect almond-shaped nails, “Yes, yes, I know. Your halfling. But how am I even supposed to get a good look at the little thing with you covering her up like that?”
Um, hello? I am literally right here, I wanted to shout. Thankfully though, my impulses knew that this probably wasn’t the best time to let loose.
Bres retracted his arm and gave me an encouraging little push on the small of my back to get closer to the throne. Shit, shit, shit. I was NOT ready for this.
I bent down into an awkward little curtsy, freezing mid-way as I horrifyingly realized my hood was still on. I snatched it off, hoping they hadn’t seen it, even though I definitely knew they had, and fumbled my way through the last half of my pathetic bow before rising again. I kept my eyes trained to the floor, knowing that if I met her eyes again I might just vomit.
The Queen laughed again, clearly taking some horrific delight in my humiliation.
“A clumsy, plain little thing, isn’t she? Are you quite sure she’s a halfling? One would think she would’ve inherited at least some desirable qualities from her father.”
My eyes snapped up to meet hers then, my temper finally bubbling over at the mention of my father.
“You know nothing of my father, you Fae bitch!” I spat, balling up my fists at my side as I tried desperately to contain my rage. I felt about as dignified as a rabid dog then, and realized I was probably already meeting their very low expectations of a halfling like me. I briefly wondered if I would be sentenced to death for calling her a Fae bitch. Hopefully, it would be something quick and dramatic like the guillotine. If I was going to die here I wanted everyone to remember, like how everyone remembered Marie Antionette.
A rich laugh rang out from a man seated at the throne to her left. His blue eyes so deep they almost seemed black, twinkled with mischief. At least someone thinks I’m okay.
“More than okay,” a deep husky voice sounded in my head. “No one around here has had the nerve to speak like that to her in ages.”
My spine stiffened. Oh my god, Bres was right. I was going crazy here.
Morrígan smiled, a warm half-smile that did not reach the frigidity of her calculating amethyst eyes.
“I know enough to know you’ve inherited his temper, dear Aine.”
I cringed at the sound of my name on her perfectly carved lips and retreated back a step closer to Bres’ side.
The Queen regarded me for a moment longer before asking, “We’re not here today to reminisce and exchange pleasantries though, are we? Perhaps another day.”
I stood numbly, unsure if I was supposed to answer. All I wanted was to get the hell out of here.
“Aye,” Bres said from behind, thankfully, answering for me.
“Well, Aine, do you love Bres as he claims?”
I willed my voice into becoming even and steady as I met her gaze once again, “Yes, I do. I love Bres.”
It was hard not to flinch as her gaze roamed across my body, as if she was sniffing for a whiff of the lie on me.
“Liar,” that dark taunting voice sounded in my head again.
My eyes flicked to the man beside Morrígan again, questioning. He was smiling, languid and teasing.
My brow furrowed slightly. “Are you speaking to me or am I seriously losing it here?”
“You’re going to lose a whole lot more if you keep looking at me. At least tilt your chin up and give her some of that attitude from earlier, you’ll be more convincing.”
Shit he was talking to me. In my head. What the hell? Why hadn’t Bres warned me about Fae with this kind of power?
“Stop the internal monologue and do as I said Aine. Do you want to leave here alive or not?”
Shit. He was right. I turned my gaze back to Queen Morrígan and held my chin up high, narrowing my eyes with as much defiance as I could possibly muster. I even placed a hand on my hip for extra dramatic effect, hoping it would work as well as it had on my parents whenever I’d try to get them to let me do something that I really had no business doing.
The Queens icy gaze did not break but she finally relaxed a bit back into her outrageously luxe throne.
“Alright, Aine, I believe you,” her eyes flicked to Bres, “And you my dear Prince of Mearcair, your sanctions are hereby formally lifted. You may take your halfling to your lands and freely do as you please.”
Wait. What the hell? Sanctions? Lifted? Was I just some kind of stupid halfling scapegoat to get Bres out of trouble? What is going on here?
I swiveled back towards Bres, question lining my face as I silently begged him for an answer.
He wasn’t looking at me though, he was looking at her. His Queen, chest all inflated with victory as if he had somehow just won some insane bet that he thought he was definitely going to lose.
“Ah, I guess he didn’t tell you everything then did he, Aine?”
My attention snapped back to the mysterious man; his icy shock of chin-length hair bobbed a bit as he relaxed his dimpled chin against his long slender fingers.
Bres finally stepped forth and snaked a muscular arm out to catch my waist as we turned to depart.
“Ah, now I was not quite finished,” Queen Morrígan trilled playfully, “I will keep true to all of those promises if Aine can show me that she loves you.”
The Queen smiled an oily black smile, casting her gaze around the room as her expression was matched and met with nods of approval from the princes and princesses seated beside her.
She mirrored their nods, seeming quite satisfied with this new little twist she’d decided to add.
“Yes, I believe a series of three trials would truly prove your love for Bres to me, Aine. Not to worry, they will be easy enough for a halfling, of course. And we will make a big celebration out of it. We Fae just adore celebrations.”
More murmurs and nods of approval rang out from her courtiers.
I looked up at Bres, willing him to put a stop to all this. To say no, I would not be participating in any trials let alone three! I’m pregnant for god sakes!
To my continued horrification, Bres seemed to be in total agreement with this bullshit.
“It seems only fair, my Queen,” Bres said calmly, squeezing my waist in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture.
“Perfect! We’ll get started on the planning today! You two will stay here in the palace of course, one trial a week should be fair. Oh, I do love having you back, dear Bres!”
Morrígan cooed in a saccharine sweet voice that made me feel sick all over again.
Jesus. What the hell had I gotten myself into now?