Chapter Nine

Brook stared up at a magnificent alabaster statue of a fae queen, sword held skyward, expression defiant. The sculptor had captured such detail that every strand of her tousled hair seemed significant, and the embroidered edge of her dress looked like stitching that had been coated in perfect plaster.

“Brea was a champion in the last battle for peace,” Kerren said. He gestured to the plaque on her pedestal, words in his language which she couldn’t read. “Also, the only Queen to never choose a partner.”

“That happens? No king?”

“They always rule jointly, and it wasn’t a time where she felt she could trust anyone. A fair assessment, truly. After the peace accords were signed, her general poisoned her.”

Brook’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding. Her general? Isn’t that the one person she should’ve been able to count on?”

“That was why he poisoned her, or at least that was his claim. He loved her, and though she loved him in return, she wouldn’t marry and make him king. She kept secrets from him until the end. She placed the safety of the future of the Pure court over her own heart.”

“That doesn’t make sense. If he loved her, he wouldn’t kill her.”

Kerren shrugged. “We all handle emotions differently. His love became obsession, madness. He feared her love wasn’t true since she wouldn’t trust him. Instead of walking away, he killed her, confessed, and killed himself.”

“I hope he doesn’t have a statue,” Brook said horrified.

“No. Certainly not. Though Brea helped establish peace, the first thing that happened afterward was a succession argument. She had no husband and no direct heir. Eventually, the council appealed to the aspects for help.” Kerren placed a hand on the small of Brook’s back and guided her to a large group monument. “The aspects are the oldest fae. They birthed deities. Choosing a ruler for the Pure court was the last formal decision they made before retiring into the fade.”

“There’s a lot I didn’t understand about what you just said,” Brook admitted. “Aspects. Deities. The fade?”

“Hmm. But you want to learn, don’t you?” he asked, eyes glittering.

She grinned. Of course she did. “I brought you to a garden in the middle of the city to give you a place to feel at home. You brought me to the center of your peoples’ history.”

“Does it help? Did it work?”

Nodding, she laced her fingers with his and shifted her body closer to him. She wanted to hold him. Kiss him. But that would hurt her in the end. Squeezing his hand was as much as she could allow herself. She would enjoy him while it lasted.

“Speaking of history and magic and things I don’t understand… why did your eyes glow last night?”

Kerren smirked and glanced around as if he suspected eavesdroppers. They weren’t alone, but no one seemed close enough to hear. Then again, maybe the fae had crazy abilities.

“In some moments, my spirit is freer,” he said cryptically. “And the eyes are the windows.”

She tugged his hand and led him down a path, until they were barely in eyesight of anyone else. “Your spirit is a burning green fire?”

“Of course not.”

“Then?” she insisted.

He narrowed his eyes. “It’s a secret that isn’t really a secret.”

“Kerren,” she said flatly. “Since when do you play games like this?”

His jaw ticked and once again he looked around. Finally, he sighed and led her to a fence. Waving his hand over the copper bars, a gate appeared, and he guided her through. Another wave of his hand made the gate return to endless fence, and he walked her towards what looked like a massive hedge maze.

“Most fae have abilities. Flight, speed, mind-reading, a wild array. But the most common is shapeshifting,” he explained as he walked her into the tall bushes.

“This doesn’t sound like a secret.”

“Shifting is limited. Some can become small like demifae. Some can become birds or snakes, whatever.”

“That’s what you are? A shifter?”

His lips quirked into a sad smile. “Of the rarest sort. Unfortunately, the sight of my shifted form tends to cause unwanted attention.”

Her curiosity bubbled over, trying to imagine what he could mean. “Keep going.”

“The cu sidhe is a beast of the hunt, with lineage tracing back to the deities of death. A few fae know this is my spirit form, even fewer have seen it. It would be too proud of an action to flaunt it.”

“Death and hunting, don’t you mean it would be frightening?”

“No. The cu sidhe all took the same side during the last war, so any Pure fae would be envious or awestruck.” His eyes started to glow as he spoke. “The form is one of profound respect and heritage.”

Brook came to a stop and looked him over. She couldn’t imagine Kerren being anything but the man standing before her. “Can I see it? Your cootchy form?”

He gave her a confused look. “It’s not cootchy. It’s cu sidhe. Coo. Shee.”

“Cu sidhe,” she said carefully. “Sorry. But still, can I see it? We’re all alone and I promise not to fall to my knees like a crazed fan.”

He arched a brow. “I’m not sure promising not to get on your knees for me is incentive.”

“You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes playfully. “I’d really appreciate it. It’s not fair to tell me you have a spirit form, then leave it up to my imagination.”

Without a word, he yanked off his shirt and handed it to her, then stepped out of his boots and pants. As usual, he wore nothing underneath, a habit that absolutely delighted her. By the time he’d kicked his boots out of the way, his eyes were entirely consumed with the green fire she’d seen the night before.

She took a step back, not afraid but unsure of what to expect. He paced for a moment, then his form shimmered. The odor of soot filled the air and a whooshing giant flame encased him for a split-second before dying away and leaving a massive, shaggy, green hound-like creature where Kerren once stood. The glowing emerald eyes stared at her, and she stumbled further back, knees weak from the shock of witnessing his change.

“Kerren?”

He padded to her and circled her, sniffing the air. She reached out tentatively and stroked his head. He whined and shook his coat as he turned away. A strange bald patch decorated his left flank and she tried to make it out. It appeared to be a brand, like a crude twist of vines.

She started to ask about it but changed her mind. The mark could have been intentional, but she couldn’t imagine what purpose. More likely it was an old injury.

He walked away, and with another flash of fire was returned to his fae form. He took his shirt from her shaking hands and offered her a smile.

“You may be the only human in the last hundred or so years to have seen a cu sidhe,” he commented.

“That’s…” She shook her head. “Wow.”

“As I said, few know that I have this ability.”

“Your secret is safe with me, of course,” she promised.

* * * *

A tall fae woman with jet black hair to her knees led Brook through the winding garden and to a white gazebo in the clearing. Queen Catriona sat waiting, and upon seeing Brook’s approach, held out her hand in a welcoming gesture.

“There you are. I was worried that Kerren had forgotten all protocol. I’m sure most have forgotten when high tea is held.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Your Majesty,” Brook said while seating herself across from Catriona. She kept a smile on her face, but inside she was panicking and wondering if there was a certain way to speak to a queen.

“I’m sure you must be excited, as are we all, truly. It’s been quite some time since we introduced another human to the court. The last was long before my time,” Catriona said.

Her voice had the same gentle accent as Kerren’s, something that made each word sound more musical and formal, and her eyes had a familiar warmth in their green depths.

Brook smoothed her hands nervously over her skirt and admired Catriona’s gown. It was like many of the dresses she’d seen on the other fae women, simple in cut and style, except that Catriona’s had long draping sleeves embroidered with the same swirling emblem she’d seen on the floor of the throne room.

Catriona lifted the teapot and poured Brook a small amount, then pushed a tray of various condiments that appeared to be sweeteners like honey. Her sleeves shifted color in the light, from deep violet to olive green and gold.

“What has Kerren explained to you, dear?”

“Not too much. He showed me around the Barrows.” Brook picked a random honey and stirred it into her tea, causing the scent of spices and flowers to waft in the air, tickling her nose. “I had some concern… I have a job and responsibilities on Earth. It’s not so easy for a working human to just up and leave,” she said carefully.

“Lorelei will take care of that. You should look forward, not back.”

“But my job…”

“I’m sure whatever you did on Earth was beneath you,” the Queen countered politely.

Brook straightened in her chair. “What I did on Earth was something I’d earned through arduous work, regardless of how it may appear to the outside world.”

“Yes. And Prism is in need of such a clever mind as yours. Do you think your talents would go to waste?”

“I’ve just never been a fan of handouts,” Brook said firmly.

The Queen arched a brow and took a slow sip of her tea. Placing her cup down on its saucer, she pulled a tray of cookies from the side of the table to the center. They looked scrumptious, but Brook wasn’t going to be distracted from her goal.

“Ms. Donovan, I have never been one to tolerate ‘handouts’ and I wonder if perhaps you are taking for granted the debt we owe you. You saved a life.”

“Any human would have—” Brook bit her tongue. “Okay, many humans would have done the same.”

“Perhaps. But it was you.” Catriona looked Brook over. “In my long life, I’ve gotten adept at reading people. You are a firecracker, yes? You are here, arguing with me over something written in fae law. Gutsy.”

“I wasn’t really arguing, Your Majesty” Brook offered, worried she’d come across too harsh. Catriona wasn’t just any fae, but it was hard to know exactly how blunt she could be.

“Splitting hairs, dear. And speaking of hair, that gorgeous mane of yours is likely to start a new trend, if not your daring fashion,” Catriona said with a mischievous grin. She patted her own golden blonde hair, which was braided at the sides and sat in a high bun decorated with tiny gems. “The life you can have here will be far more fascinating than what Earth could have offered, and just by looking at you, it seems this is fate. Don’t tell me you didn’t hate your job. Don’t tell me you didn’t wish for something new and exciting to come along.”

“That’s not the point. I didn’t choose this.”

“No. You earned it. Isn’t that better?”

Brook’s polite smile faltered. Kerren was right. The other fae couldn’t comprehend how her ‘award’ might not be what every human desired.

“I know that look,” Catriona said with a sigh. “Free will and all that, yes?”

“Yes,” Brook said enthusiastically.

“If you’d been invited to live on Prism, would you have said yes?”

Brook nodded and stirred her tea some more. She didn’t know how to say it to the Queen, but tea was literally not her cup of tea. There was nothing pleasant about drowned dead leaves.

“Probably,” she admitted.

“Your entire internal conflict is based on not having a choice. But it looks like the world chose for you, because you weren’t going to make an effort to get what you wanted. How long have you stayed with that job of yours, the one you hate?”

“About three years too long,” Brook confessed.

“And the rest of your dreams? How long have you been settling for less than you deserved?”

The words struck too close for Brook to dodge. She had been squelching her interest in staying in Prism because it wasn’t her choice, but there was no denying that she could easily make the best of things and be happy.

Except that entire part about Kerren not being in Prism much longer.

“Could there be a compromise?”

“That depends. What compromise do you have in mind?”

“Kerren seemed to think you’d just… bestow things on me. A home. A job. I’d like to be involved in seeing what I’d be comfortable with. I’m not exactly used to a life of luxury.”

“We can’t have our human nobility living in squalor,” the Queen pointed out. “Of course, we could negotiate the details… but I must admit I have a job in mind.”

“Which is?”

“Well, I was going to wait bu—”

A large dark form crashed through the nearest hedge and skidded to a stop. Its dark green paws padded around the grass while Brook stared in horror. She couldn’t imagine why Kerren would crash her tea with the Queen, but there was no way he wasn’t going to be in serious trouble.

The burn on his flank seemed more pronounced, as if his fur had gotten shorter, but regardless, she wasn’t forgetting the cu sidhe form any time soon.

“Kerren,” she hissed. “What are you doing?”

“Kerren?” the Queen asked, standing. She scanned the empty courtyard. “I don’t see him.”

The hound retreated to hide behind the corner of the pavilion, and she heard the roar of a flame burning and instantsly.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t informed that my wife would have company,” a deep voice said sheepishly.

Brook looked away at realizing the naked man behind the railing was not Kerren. Catriona clucked her tongue. “Two hundred and he acts like he’s fifty.”

“Oh, but, you…” Brook sputtered. “I’m sorry Your Majesty.”

“No, no. In this instance, the fault is all mine, and I offer my sincerest apologies,” he insisted, appearing beside the Queen. He’d donned a robe and appeared at ease with his informal attire.

“Why were you speaking of Kerren?” Catriona asked.

“The…” Brook stared at the ground. “The cu sidhe.”

“Ah. Yes, Kerren… that’s right. I always forget he has the hunter spirit. Not many of us left,” the King said with a deep expression. “A symbol of the old days.”

“Yes, and I suppose the burn is part of the spirit then. I was worried Kerren had an injury,” she said breathing a sigh of relief.

“Burn?” Artur asked curiously.

“The patch… the twist. On your flank. It’s just like Kerren’s. I thought maybe he’d been in a fight.”

Catriona laughed softly. “Oh. Dear, I’m sure you’re mistaken. Every shifter carries their clan mark…” she narrowed her eyes at her husband. “Though usually it is kept well hidden. It is a sign of honor, but then again, it singles the individual out.”

“There are no wars, Catriona. There is no longer a need to hide the clan ties or royal blessing,” he reasoned.

“I’m quite certain Kerren had that same one, though. Is he of your clan?”

Catriona’s smile faltered, and she glanced to Artur. “No. Distant cousins on his mother’s side, but he should have the mark of the Barrows.”

“The Barrows mark is a circle, though. His was that same twist…” Brook peered off into the distance, trying to recall it again. “Yes, and I thought perhaps it was from a strange magical duel… my imagination can be wild.”

“In any case, you’re mistaken,” Artur said sternly. He turned to Brook with a serious line to his brow. “If you don’t mind, I think high tea may be over.”

“Oh…” Brook glanced at her untouched drink. She had come close to forcing it down, so she wasn’t sad about that, but she still had more questions for the Queen.

“We’ll reschedule,” the Queen said, glancing at her husband.

“Of course,” Brook said, rising from her seat. “Thank you for having me, Your Majesties.”

The same maid from earlier appeared out of nowhere and gestured for Brook to follow her. As she walked beside the quiet fae, she tried to recall Kerren’s form again.

She’d seen the vines, but perhaps they were right. His fur was long and shaggy. Maybe it had been parted oddly in that spot. There was no other explanation.