War of the Seasons, book one: The Human

CHAPTER NINE: Betrayal

CHAPTER NINE: Betrayal

Story awoke to an eerie silence and saw that the fire had burned down to glowing embers. She reached for the handle of her knife and found only air. Looking down, she found that she was once again dressed in the gauzy, purple gown. She was dreaming again. Her heart fluttered—that meant Morrigann was near!

Soft violin music wafted toward her from deep in the woods. She recognized her lullaby from the previous nights, but it sounded sadder somehow, more melancholy. She was on her feet and gliding toward it without even realizing she’d moved. Morrigann was waiting for her in the clearing, perched majestically on the flat center stone. He smiled sadly at her and kept playing his forlorn-sounding violin, beckoning to her with a nod of his head.

Entranced, Story made her way to his side and sat cautiously on the wide stone next to him, never taking her eyes off his perfect features. This close, she could see that his blonde hair was streaked with darker gold, shining in the moonlight. She didn’t doubt for a moment that he was related to the Faerie Prince that Eirnin had spoken of.

Morrigann bowed a final few melancholy notes, then gently placed his violin to the side before turning to face Story.

“Why did you stay away so long?” she blurted, then clapped a hand over her mouth in mortification. Unruffled by her outburst, Morrigann smiled radiantly down at her. She felt her skin grow warm, her fingers and toes tingling as if she were sitting in a sunbeam.

“Where are your pixies tonight?” she asked, more to cover her embarrassment than from true curiosity. Though she still liked the pretty little faeries and missed seeing them, despite what Eirnin had said. There was no way they would hurt a fly, much less a person.

“I’m afraid we can’t have our faerie dance tonight, Story. I’ve just discovered some grave news, and I need to talk with you about it.”

Story was so enraptured by the sound of Morrigann’s voice that she nearly missed the serious tone underlying it. “What’s wrong? You’re acting like someone died…” Her chest clenched, and it was suddenly hard to breathe. Please, not that. She couldn’t take it, not again.

Morrigann gave her a sad half-smile. “Interesting choice of words, fair one. Tell me, when the elfling was telling you about the Faerie Prince’s curse, did he bother to mention just how the curse could be lifted?”

“No, he didn’t—wait a sec… how do you know about that? Were you following me?” She leaned away from him, fists on her hips, anger flashing across her face.

Morrigann took both of her hands in his, brought them up to his mouth, and kissed her knuckles gently, silencing her protests. “Dear, sweet girl, of course the fey have been following you. The Faerie Prince is very concerned about your welfare, especially now that he knows who and what you are.”

“He is?” Story struggled to make her voice sound even, having been rendered momentarily breathless by the simple kiss to her hands. She knew that she should be more curious about the Faerie Prince’s identity, but all she could think about was Morrigann and his inviting lips.

Morrigann smiled beatifically at her. “He’s the caring sort.”

Story grinned foolishly back up at Morrigann until his words finally broke through the fog that clouded her mind. “But… if the Faerie Prince is such a caring fellow, then why did he curse the elves and leave them all to die?”

Morrigann dropped her hands, making her instantly sorry that she’d said anything.

Sighing, he turned to gaze up at the moon and ran his fingers through his golden hair, sending sparks of magic flickering off the ends. “Story, I’m afraid it’s not that simple. You must understand that the Faerie Prince is just that: the Prince of the Faeries. He has a responsibility to them, to look out for their welfare and protect them from harm. They are his family. Surely you understand how important it is to protect your family?”