His world narrowed to the two of them, stepping through the complex dance once, twice, six times.
Adhna declared victory. “This dance is done! We shall meet again for the next one after a meal and a rest.”
Flushed from both his success and Airiu’s proximity, Fingin now paled at Adhna’s comment. “The next one? There are more?”
All the Fae laughed, a cascade from a trickling brook across his ears. Tomnat said, “There are countless dances, human. We could teach you a new dance after every meal, and still you’d never learn them all. No human could hope to learn all the Faerie dances.”
This set off another round of laughter, and Fingin’s skin grew warm with embarrassment. Airiu, however, held his hand. “Pay no mind to Tomnat. She enjoys tormenting humans.” She sent a sidelong glance to the other Fae, who grinned back. “Sometimes, she goes out to the mortal world just to ruin their lives for fun.”
Ruin their lives. Had this quest ruined his life? His life had been empty. He’d fished, eaten, sold his goods, and slept. At least Bran had provided some much-needed companionship, someone to work toward supporting. Since he’d embarked on this journey, he’d nearly died several times, mourned the loss of Bran at least once, and angered several Fae. He couldn’t tell if this marked an improvement over a listless life of no purpose or not.
However, at the moment, sitting next to a lovely Fae woman with a kind heart and a quick smile, eating fruit and honey, he thought life might just have improved.
Némán cleared his throat, and the side conversations grew quiet. He began to sing as they ate, a mournful song of love lost. Fingin had never heard such a splendid voice, the warmth of the notes caressing him like a warm wool blanket on an icy night. The tears pricked behind his eyes, and he surreptitiously wiped them away, horrified that Airiu might spy them.
She smiled at him and touched his tear with a gentle finger, bringing it to her lips with a kiss.
Fingin had never understood the tales of mad love, love that started with first sight, love that burned so bright within the heart it obliterated all concerns.
Now, however, he had a glimmer.
He swallowed, trying to think of something to say, anything at all. He forgot how words worked.
Airiu bit into a red berry that might have been a strawberry, if it had grown in his old world. “Will you be in Faerie for long, Fingin?”
Still unable to speak, he shrugged.
“I hope so. Dancing with you has been lovely. I never danced with a mortal man before. You make funny faces when you make a mistake.” She giggled and smiled at him, her eyes dancing with mirth and delight.
He wanted to repeat all the mistakes he’d ever made, just to make funny faces for her.
Némán finished singing. The group sat in silence after the marvelous song. After several moments, Tomnat stood, gathering attention. “I would tell the story of tragic love, the only kind that lasts.”
Airiu let out a snort, increasing Fingin’s affection for her. Tomnat seemed somewhat jaded toward the glorious possibilities of love. He’d been of the same opinion just the day before.
Fingin studied Tomnat as she spoke her tale. Her voice carried across the clearing, strident with confidence. Curly dark hair tipped with green framed her face, and her skin glowed with the same hint of green. Her eyes flashed with intelligence and a good dose of cynicism. She reminded Fingin of his grandmother when he knew her as a human.
The reminder of his grandmother as a Faerie Queen made his hot blood grow cold again. He shrank away from the assemblage to stew in his own misery.
He needed to escape after the Faerie Queen exacted her payment for Grimnaugh’s and Adhna’s help. How ironic that their help had been for naught, as the person he wanted them to find was the Queen herself.
Why had Brigit sent him on this quest? She must realize who his grandmother had become. Brigit had been friends with his grandmother and must realize she now ruled as a Faerie Queen. The tales told of at least five different Queens across the land of Faerie, perhaps more, but not so many that Brigit would miss one.
He remembered the other part of the quest; to retrieve the magical brooch, the same brooch that allowed him to speak with Bran and other animals. His skin crawled with the notion he must take something from the Faerie Queen. He’d be lucky to escape Faerie with his life, much less with a magical artifact she surely kept close.
He glanced at Adhna, munching on a large yellow fruit. Grimnaugh had rejoined the group to eat, and he spoke in low whispers to Tomnat. The Fae woman frowned, and she glanced toward Fingin. When she realized he watched her, she flashed him a seductive smile and then laughed. Her laugh had a cruel edge to it. He glanced away, embarrassed.
How would he complete at least that part of his quest? He grasped Brigit’s charm, hoping for some inspiration.
Airiu asked, “Why do you clutch at your chest, Fingin? Have you pain?”
He released the pendant and shook his head. “No, but I have some decisions to make. Plans to make. I don’t know what to do. I was hoping for an answer.”
“Why do you touch your chest for answers?”
He chuckled, charmed by her question. “I have a charm given to me by someone I respect. I wished her wisdom might help me with my decision.”
“Perhaps I can help you in her stead.”
Asking a subject of the Faerie Queen to help him steal an object from the same Faerie Queen didn’t sound wise to him. That’s why he hadn’t told Adhna or Grimnaugh of this portion of his
