Isle of the Faeries

A Drink Among Friends

Kean

      I turn to see who it is Marissa is sneering at just in time to catch the mingled look of horror, confusion and betrayal on Breena's face as she turns to flee. She was standing close enough, she must have heard Marissa's lewd implications. I want to go after her, there is no way she can outdistance me, all I have to do is jump on Cinis and go after her. But Marissa's talons are biting into my arm trying to both get my attention and hold me in place. I force my face into a stony expression as I face her once more so as not to show my disgust for her or my longing to chase after the curly haired girl.

      "Who was that?" she whined, "What did she think she was doing on my property and why did she ride in on your horse?"

      I don't answer her; I simply shrug off her grip and lead Cinis into the barn. Of course she follows firing off questions that I ignore completely, I do not care what she has to say and to be honest I never really have. She leans against the open stall door as I untack Cinis still chattering and grating on my nerves. As if he senses my unease and its source Cinis faster than I can counter swings his hind end toward the door and kicks out at her. She gasps and stumbles back out of his reach, however it was just a warning kick, Cinis would never have missed if he didn't intend to.

      "That is why I will never allow you to ride him," I tell her cutting of her tirade, "he doesn't like you." Marissa had a dangerous habit of not taking Cinis or Avi or any Fey creature seriously, she never treated them with respect and rubbed them the wrong way.

      I tune out her newest rant and rub Cinis down wallowing in my own self-pity. I now remembered the reason I have never had close friends; it is not because I am entirely antisocial nor is it because I don't like anyone, it is because of Ciná. The less important people I have in my life the less he can threaten me with them, the less he can hurt. I have Cinis who has long been my only true weak flank but seeing as he is an Aughisky and I can exert a fair amount of control over his life I have been able to keep him – therefore myself – safe quite easily. However inviting a human into my life with any depth has long been off limits, I cannot control where they go or who they see, I cannot protect them from my secrets and mistakes.

      For the last ten years or so I have been perfectly content to live my life this way pushing everyone out, until a curious, curly haired sprite of a girl as bold and curious as the ocean is deep crashed into my life questioning everything and accepting me. In the last month and a half I have smiled more than I have in years, I never realized how lonely I have been until there was someone there to fill all the silence inside me. I let my guard down, I let myself enjoy her company, even seeking it out day after day, week after week. I told her more and more about myself answering dangerous questions and showing her things most humans have long since forgotten. And by answering her questions and spending so much time with her, by smiling I have made her a target. I have drawn the red rings on her chest myself without even realizing it and while doing so I grew closer to her, I grew to care.

      Now I am in deeper water than ever before barely able to keep my head above it. There is an invisible dagger hanging above her head and she doesn't even know it; but Ciná does. He knows, he has been watching. I have been so caught up in Breena that I have forgotten the ways of the Eldest Flame. As his name suggests he is a fire elemental, the fire elemental and that is how he has been watching us; the flames. How many times has he spied through them; at the funeral pyre, the numerous drift wood fires left by tourists on the beach, the fire pit Bree uses to burn old wood, at the races bonfire just days ago even. My fists clench when I think of just how much he's seen, how much he's heard, how close he has been to her.

      That is why I have to stay away from her now, it is a desperate hope but it is all I have. Perhaps if I stay away from her he will think we have had a fight, he will think I no longer care for her; then he will not use her against me.

      When I finally turn Cinis loose and get to put away my tack I realize much to my relief that Marissa has given up on me for now.

_

      The night finds me in a shadowed corner of the Iron Bells with a drink I my hand and guilt in my gut trying to tune out the loud revelers and drink myself into forgetfulness. Though I do not make a habit of drinking myself stupid it is not the first time I have done so, in fact it was one night of drinking myself into a stupor that led to some bad decisions concerning Marissa. Tonight however the alcohol is only upsetting my nerve nauseas stomach.

      Just as I am lifting the drink to my lips I am cuffed across the back of my head causing me to slosh beer down my front. Annoyed and in no mood to be dealing with people I slam down the mug, shove back my chair and spin around only to find myself face to face with a seriously ticked off Thomas Dunkin. I have never seen Dunkin angry before, in the month or so that I have known him he has always been unwaveringly cheerful. But now his lips are pressed in a thin line, his eyebrows furrowed low over his narrowed eyes and his voice is positively venomous when he say, "We need to speak, now be seated," he pushes me roughly back into my chair and lowers himself into the one across from me.

      I am stunned, "What do we need to talk about exactly?"

      "I don't know perhaps the poor girl that I picked up at the end of Allard's driveway looking devastated and terribly confused," he bites out.

      I can feel the blood drain from my face, Breena, the look on her face as she turned to flee flashes across my mind's eye. It is better I tell myself and address Dunkin with an impassive face and blithe tone, "What about her?"

      I see his teeth grind together as he tries to calm himself. "What have you done?"

      I take a sip of my beer and instantly regret it because of how difficult it is to swallow past the lump in my throat, but I manage. "I didn't do anything," I tell him calmly.

      The tendons in his neck stand out and his hand slaps down on the table, a crack forming where he hit, "We both know you have secrets, though the nature of them I do not entirely know. Regardless you cannot drag others into your problems then turn your back when they get hurt, I want to know what happened? I want to know what you did?" his voice is quiet but acidic.

      My eyes trace the crack under his palm and roll his words around in my head, something is off. I take another sip to buy me time as I puzzle it out; his voice. Gone is his London accent and modern word usage, his voice has become more lilting and melodic, his sentence structure and delivery older and proper and no man could break a table with a single slap of his hand. I look at his face and let my mind relax, like wood rising out of a pond I can see it, his glamour work is clever and intricate, hard to trace and unravel. His hazel eyes are actually swirling with vibrant green brighter than any leaf, his cheek bones high and sculpted too perfect to be human and his ears are long and pointed at the tip.

      I pour some salt out of the shaker and into my hand and blow it at him, his nose scrunches in discomfort and he is quick to brush it away but otherwise he is unaffected, he is powerful. "What are you?" I ask quietly letting a dangerous edge seep into my voice and abandoning my lazy tone.

      He grins without humor, "Just figured it out have we? And here I thought you were the great Keeper of your generation, so much power, so much promise yet oh so lonely," his tone is mocking he is angry with me but not for my discovery.

      "You are cunning with your magic," I begin with flattery, "I have never looked close enough to see it but now that I do I still do not recognize it and there is little that I have not encountered."

      "There is more than you think that you have yet to see, much of it evil," he tells me. "However I do not paint those I encounter with despair and fear, quite the contrary I am kinder than most, my kind live by morals closer to those of humans than most," he leans back in his chair and spreads his arms wide, "I am an Elf, one of the Elven Court on the Island of the West."