winked.
Og patted Brendan on the back, almost knocking him off his feet. “Good on ya, lad.”
BLT flitted out of the crowd. She didn’t speak. She merely tugged on his earlobe with both hands and zipped away.
Brendan was almost at the rock when Finbar reached out and took his arm. The old man pulled him close in a rough embrace. Brendan was surprised at this show of emotion. The Exile barely spoke to anyone. A hug was quite out of character.
“Good luck, lad,” the old Exile whispered in his ear. Finbar let him go and melted back into the crowd before Brendan could react.
Brendan’s eyes turned to Pukh. The Lord of Tir na nOg stood beside the rock, smiling enigmatically. Brendan didn’t return the smile, keeping his face as straight and determined as he could. This only seemed to tickle Pukh more, broadening his grin. Brendan started forward again, covering the last few metres to the rock and stepping up beside Ariel. Ariel nodded, acknowledging his arrival.
“Brendan Morn.” Ariel spoke loud enough for all in the Faerground to hear. “You have been called forth to be Proven.” He turned to Pukh, Kitsune, and Deirdre. “Who will judge Brendan Morn?”
Pukh stepped forward and smiled his irritating cocky smile. “I will. Lord Pukh of Tir na nOg.”
Deirdre stepped up beside Pukh and said, “I will judge him. Deirdre D’Anaan: Weaver and head of the Clan of D’Anaan.”
Kitsune Kai waved a hand dismissively, blowing a pink bubble and popping it loudly as she studied her nails. “Let’s get on with it.”
“Very well,” Ariel said gravely. “Let the Proving begin.”
Ariel stepped down from the rock, leaving Brendan feeling horribly exposed and alone. He looked out at the sea of faces and felt faint. They all had the same eager look in their eyes. Brendan imagined that this was what convicted criminals felt like when they stepped out onto the gallows. His eye was drawn to a flicker of movement at the edge of the crowd. He saw Kim returning. She met his gaze and shook her head, shrugging. Kim hadn’t managed to catch Delia and the others. Brendan supposed that was a good sign. Perhaps they were gone, out of reach of any reprisal. He had to hope that was true.
His aunt Deirdre handed her harp to one of the attendants and mounted the stone, graceful and sure despite the long gown she wore. Brendan mentally crossed his fingers that she might go easy on him. Then he remembered how she’d terrorized his dreams when he first found out about his true heritage. Brendan glumly braced himself for the worst.
Before she turned to face the throng awaiting her Challenge, her eyes met Brendan’s. His aunt always made him a little uncomfortable. She was a powerful personality, and he sensed that she had to work to keep hidden a strong current of emotion that flowed close to the surface. It made her hard to be around. Brendan had often interpreted this as disapproval or anger. Today, in her eyes, he saw that emotion clearly as deep, irrevocable sadness and loss. He longed to reach out to her, here in front of everyone.
She turned away and addressed the crowd in her clear, powerful voice.
“This Proving was never necessary in my mind. I know this is my sister’s son. He has her eyes, her smile, and most importantly, her kind spirit. Bir-Gidha lives in him. He is my only link to her. I merely wish to show you how I know.”
With that, she began to sing.^ 62
Her song was light and plaintive, a lonely little melody that twisted around Brendan’s heart and tugged at it, trying to unravel it.
He couldn’t understand the words, if they were words at all. They were sounds, merely, nonsense but fraught with meaning. He found himself joining in.
Any fear of embarrassment was absent. He matched her note for note, instinctively following her lead and then soaring away on his own into harmonies that came as naturally as breathing.
At some point in their duet, Brendan reached over and grasped her hand. The connection crumbled his final reserve of self-consciousness. He sang with abandon now, lost in the ecstasy of the sound they were creating together. He had never felt so free. He closed his eyes and revelled in the glorious feeling of being alive and completely involved in this single moment.
He had no idea how long their song went on, but finally the melody wound down and dwindled into silence.
Brendan opened his eyes. The entire Faerie throng stared in wonder. There were tears on some faces. Kim had moved through the crowd and stood directly below him, her face shining.
Brendan turned to his aunt. She was smiling at him.
“This is my nephew, Brendan. He sings with his mother’s voice. I am satisfied.”
The crowd erupted into applause and wild cheering as she wrapped him in her arms. Brendan hugged her back, breathing in the lavender of her golden hair.
“I’m proud of you,” Deirdre whispered in his ear. “And she would be, too.”
Brendan felt an ache in his throat as he let Deirdre go. He’d never understood how painful it must have been for Deirdre to see him, the image of her lost sister, knowing that Brendan’s birth had taken her away. This was a proving for them both. He smiled at her and she returned the smile. With a final squeeze of Brendan’s hand, Aunt Deirdre stepped down.
And Kitsune Kai stepped forward.
Brendan had no idea how she managed to stay upright on her stylish shoes. Without the shoes, she would have stood well under five feet. Even with them, she had to crane her neck to look up at Brendan perched on the rock.
“Okay,” Kitsune said, planting her hands on her hips. “You want to prove to me that you are one of us? It won’t be easy!” She glared up at him, her dark eyes tinted pink by the lenses of her sunglasses. She seemed to be expecting an answer.
Brendan shrugged. “Okay.”
“Yeah, you’re right it’s okay! I say so. I am Kitsune Kai, the Number One Fox Spirit. I am going to test you. Are you ready, Brendan?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Kai narrowed her eyes. She snapped her elegant fingers. “Kappa! Fetch the tea!”
One of her bodyguards jogged forward carefully carrying a porcelain cup in his hands. The liquid inside steamed. The cup was filled almost to the brim. She accepted the tea and the Kappa bowed, retreating to join his fellow. She turned, holding the cup, and with a flick of her tiny feet that was almost too fast to see, she removed her shoes. They tumbled through the air into the hands of her Kappa servants.
“Tea?” she asked Brendan, holding the cup out to him.
Brendan shrugged. “I guess?”
“Do not guess!” she snapped. “Do you like tea or not?”
Puzzled, Brendan nodded his head. He took the cup. She bowed to him. He returned the bow.
“Okay,” she said. “Your test, Brendan, son of Briach and Bir-Gidha, is to hold the teacup and not spill a drop. Do you understand?”
“I think so, yes.”
She locked his eyes with her steady black gaze. For an instant, he could see how ancient this creature before him was. In her eyes was a feral flicker of hunger, a cold animal stare.
“Sounds easy, no?”
“If I’ve learned anything from becoming a Faerie, I’ve learned this: if it sounds easy, it will probably be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”
She smiled, revealing sharp, white teeth. “Ha! That’s good! You’re not as stupid as you look. Don’t spill a drop.” With that, she leapt at him with a wild scream. He clumsily ducked her attack and staggered backwards. He looked down at the cup and was relieved to see that it hadn’t spilled. Then he looked up in time to dodge a punch aimed at his nose.
Uh-oh! Brendan cried in his mind, ducking as fast as he could. The punch went high and he felt the familiar sizzle in his blood as he forced his body into warp mode.
He held the cup in both hands and did his best to keep ahead of the wild Fox Spirit who was trying to smack
