Bride of Fae (Tethers) (8 page)

“Hey, watch it!” he said as Max absently trod on his toes.

The goblin grumbled something that might have been
sorry
and plopped down on the tree stump. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched Cissa with something like exasperated admiration. Yes, Dandelion decided. Max was in love.

Poor treesap.

Dandelion watched Cissa preen and considered how this affected his future. Possible outcomes shifted like patterns in a kaleidoscope.
The fairy cup.
He would have to claim his rightful place now.

Worth it if he could pull the Dumnos fae back from the dark.
As king he could deal more easily with Idris’s cold iron project. All he needed to do was complete the ritual on Faeview’s rooftop. Chant the words, dance the dance, and drink the special wine from the special cup.

Dandelion wine was necessary for the ritual. Sifae named him for the flower to make clear her desire he succeed her on the moonstick throne. But how long did dandelion wine take to ferment?

And what about Idris? This would mean the end of the regency, and Idris would not give up power lightly. That thought seemed to race through the circle. Every fairy, pixie, sprite, brownie, and leprechaun stopped talking and turned toward the regent expectantly. The only sound was the fire pit’s crackling and the cry of a distant screetch owl, a call that should remind everyone why they were there and make them anxious to get going on the troop.

No one moved.

Idris smiled. “Princess Narcissus, you amaze me.”

The circle erupted with applause and whistles. Dandelion didn’t believe Idris’s sincerity for one second.

Cissa seemed oblivious to how hard Idris was working to control his emotions. Flush with victory, she extended her translucent red wings through slits in her bodysuit and lifted into the air.

Morning Glory picked up the cloak and ran the fabric sensuously over her cheek. Her see-through bodysuit was exquisite, made by leprechauns, but beside the glimmermist it looked ordinary, like something human-made.

“That’s what it is,” Max said. He watched Cissa fly over the fae’s heads to show off the cup. “She expects the glimmermist to protect her from Idris.”

“Won’t it?” Dandelion said, alarmed. He’d been counting on the same thing.
“Nothing can get through Glimmermist, not even a dart of cold iron.”

“Ordinarily, I’d say yes,” Max said. “Glimmermist protects against all wyrds and spells. Pixie, sprite, fairy. Goblin spells too, more’s the pity. But your magic worked on me despite my shirt. It came from the same batch of glimmermist as the things Cissa stole
—took. Let me check something.”

Max tossed a spell at Cissa, flicking his fingers. A brownie on the ground below her shrieked as her braids flew up in the air and came undone.

“So it’s not the glimmermist. Cissa’s is working,” Max said. “The spell ricocheted off her.” He narrowed his already beady eyes. “What’s going on with you, my prince? Why does your magic confound the glimmermist?”

“I don’t know,” Dandelion said. “Honestly. If I’d known you were wearing it, I wouldn’t have
bothered trying to spell you.”

“So we have two mysteries,” Max said.

“Why can I penetrate the glimmermist,” Dandelion said.

“And where did the princess find that cup?”

“I take it the cup wasn’t with the goblins then,” Dandelion said. “Cissa didn’t take it when she took the glimmermist.”

“Don’t be daft. Why would we hide it?
Where
would we hide it?”

“
Elyse’s Bower isn’t what you think it is.”
Dandelion quoted Max’s words back to him. “Idris sealed it. And it’s full of cold steel. Even if there was a way to break the seal, no one could stand to go inside.”

“It’s possible the cup was in the bower if Idris hid it himself,” Max said. “But I tell you
this: If any goblin in Dumnos had known the cup’s whereabouts, you’d have been king long before this day.”

“It’s a miracle!” Idris
leapt onto a fallen tree and tore the moonstick crown from his head. He sat down cross-legged with the crown beside him as the fae gathered around, sitting on the ground or low tree branches. He snapped his fingers.

With a pop and flash the serving pixie reappeared bearing a leather winesack.

“Since the high gods made me regent, I have longed for this day.”

He took the winesack from the pixie. Graceful. No hint of regret that his rule was about to end.

“I still remember the horrible night when events left us without our queen, and our crown prince was not yet of age. The fae of Dumnos honored me, asking me to serve as regent—a sacrifice I was glad to make. But from that day, I don’t mind telling you now, I have prepared for this one.”

He held the winesack up by its strap. It was decorated with a golden dandelion
carved into the leather.

“The hearth pixies have had a standing order to keep a cask of fresh dandelion wine ever at the ready.”

“To Idris!” a leprechaun cried.

“To Idris!”

If it vexed him that they didn’t shout
King Idris
, he didn’t show it. He said, “At long last, thanks to Princess Narcissus, we will have our true king.”

Cissa floated down near Dandelion and Max. As her feet touched ground and her wings retracted, she stole a quick glance at the goblin and blushed. Dandelion was pretty sure Max saw the blush but pretended not to notice. That goblin had class.

“Come, princess.” Idris patted the space next to him on the fallen tree, eyeing the cup eagerly. “Tell us all how you did it.”

Cissa turned to Dandelion. He ignored the cup and squeezed her in a bear hug. “You’re the craziest fairy I ever knew,” he said quietly in her ear. “Brave. But crazy. Don’t you ever put yourself in danger like that again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, brother.” She pulled the glimmermist away from her thigh and let it snap back. “I was perfectly safe.” She placed the cup in his hands.

Waves of well-being washed over him. At the same time, he felt more powerful, alert. And he felt something else, a new awareness. He felt as if he had a purpose.

“That’s some cup,” Max said, staring at him strangely. “It must hold powerful magic.”

Cissa flew over to Idris.
Beside him on the fallen tree, she began her story. “Queen Sifae and our father were killed in the human realm,” she began. “So I searched there for the cup. I went to Igdrasil.”

Her listeners gasped. Igdrasil, the world tree, was sacred to wyrders and bad luck to fairies.

“Weren’t you afraid?” Glory said. “What if the wyrding woman saw you?”

More than a few furtive glances were cast in Aubrey’s reaction. The wyrding woman Glory spoke of was
his daughter Elyse.

“I
was
afraid,” Cissa said. “But I had my tether.” She touched her choker, woven of red cord with a jewel of bright-cut Dumnos steel at her throat. “I could get home without a portal if I needed to.” She beamed gratitude at Idris. “Thanks to our regent.”

Laying it on a bit thick
, Dandelion thought.

All Dumnos fairies had the special chokers that tethered them to fae when in the human realm. Idris had asked the goblins to cut the jewels from steel
forged of Dumnos iron, and he’d ordered the wisps to weave the cords. But he wasn’t the only one who deserved credit.

“And thanks to Goldenrod too!” Cissa added.

Goldenrod took a bow. He’d discovered the jewels’ transporting power by accident one day when he was stuck in the human realm far from a portal. He stumbled into a coven of wyrders practicing with salt and bread. His hand had instinctively gone to his throat and he’d nervously pressed the jewel he wore there against his pulse. Within seconds, he was back in the faewood.

From then, it was a new day in fairy freedom. Sadly, the jewels didn’t work on brownies or sprites or pixies or goblins. It gave fairies another justification for thinking themselves a better class of fae.

“The spirit in the tree spoke to me,” Cissa continued. “She answered my plea.”

“What did she say?” two sprites asked at the same time.

“What did she want in return?” a leprechaun said.

“I’m sorry.” Cissa demurely lowered her eyelashes. Now Dandelion knew
for sure she was putting on a show. “The spirit of Igdrasil swore me to secrecy.”

No one argued. Magical gifts usually came with conditions.

“Again, Princess Narcissus, you amaze us all,” Idris said. “Prince Dandelion, how fortunate you are to have such a brave sister.”

“My brother belongs on the moonstick throne,” Cissa said. “I’ll do what I can to make it happen.”

Brave, yes. Foolish, definitely. And on the verge of gloating. “Indeed,” Dandelion said. He blew Cissa a kiss and a look of warning to go with it.

“Claim your reward, princess,” Idris said. “A wish granted. Anything in my power.”

“Thank you, my liege.” Cissa said
my liege
with no trace of irony. “But another time. This is Dandelion’s night.”

“Quite right.” Idris hopped off the tree, leaving the crown behind as if already forgotten. “Prince Dandelion, as the princess says, this is your night. You must lead the trooping fae. Dance atop Faeview, drink the wine, and say the words. When you return, the moonstick crown will rest on your head, and all of Dumnos will be gratified to call you king.” He handed the winesack to Aubrey. “As will I.”

“To King Dandelion!” Max punched his fist into the air. The fae began to form the troop line, and the musicians struck up a festive marching tune.

Aubrey slung the winesack over his shoulder.
With a questioning look, he barely inclined his head toward the goblin. Idris shook his head. The exchange again piqued Dandelion’s curiosity. Idris seemed to believe Max was his creature, but Dandelion was convinced the goblin hated the regent.

“Max, come along,” Dandelion said, though he knew
what the response would be. “You can make sure Cissa behaves.”

“Not possible, my prince,” Max said as Aubrey joined them. “But I’ll be with you in spirit. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can do for our guest.” He indicated the human woman who hadn’t moved since she passed out.

“Idris will take care of that,” Aubrey said. “Shall we go?”

“That?”
Dandelion said. “Such contempt for humans, and yet you loved one.”

“Not really your business
, is it?” Aubrey glanced at the fairy cup in Dandelion’s hands. “My prince.”

Over by the fire pit, Cissa held out her hand to Morning Glory. “Give it back, sweetie.” Reluctantly Glory handed over the cloak. Cissa flitted over to Max and draped the glimmermist over his shoulders. She gave his rough hands a squeeze, then kissed her finger and touched it to his lips. “I’ll keep the bodysuit, if you don’t mind.”

Poor Max. The guy was besotted.

“Well?” Cissa lifted off, flashing a smile at Dandelion. “Are you ready?”

Dandelion slipped the cup into his hidey pouch and extended his wings. The cup became formless in the pouch and as light as air, yet he could feel it calling to him to perform the ritual.

“Let’s go.”

T
HE RIGHTFUL KING AND
his exasperating sister flew to the head of the troop line with Morning Glory and that sod Aubrey following behind. The trooping fae streamed out of the faewood, and a part of Max wanted to go too.

Odd. He was no trooping fae, but a word from Cissa and he would have joined them tonight. The way she’d responded to his kiss, he could almost believe she had real feelings for him. But
that was Cissa. She was just playing with him.

“Never mind them, gob,” Idris said. He jabbed at the human woman a few times with his foot, but she didn’t move. “This one’s finished, I’m afraid.” He lifted her arm and let it fall. With a dismissive wave he said, “Back where you came from.”

The lump of human disappeared. It was fifty-fifty whether anyone who knew her still lived. At all events, those who found her on their threshold would discover either an exhausted woman with swollen bloody stumps where feet had been or a dead body.