‘It is true. And it is very important. You are important: to the future of Murias, and the future of all the faerie realms. You have a special magic in you, Faye, that I doubt you know exists,’ he murmured. ‘And we can make each other whole, if we let ourselves trust each other: human and faerie, in balance, as we should always have been.’
‘There was something in my Grandmother’s grimoire about the rule of balance,’ she said groggily.
‘The Rule of Balance applies between the faerie and the human worlds. Each world depends on the other to exist, and there is a natural ebb and flow between the realms. If one realm seeks to overpower the other, chaos reigns. If they work harmoniously together, peace reigns.’ He quoted it exactly as she remembered reading it. ‘This rule is the most important of all. And it is, sadly, a balance that has been lost.’ He sighed, and circled his fingertip lazily around her right nipple. ‘This iscausing great conflict between the faerie realms. A war is here, because of it. A war that humans know nothing of, but that cannot be kept from your mortal lands for much longer.’
‘A war?’ she asked sleepily. Though somewhere inside her she was deeply troubled by what he was saying, she was struggling to stay awake.
‘Yes, my sweetsidhe-leth. A war that you must help us end.’ She felt him kiss her gently. ‘But that is for another day. Sleep now, my love.’
She started to dream as he was still talking. Images flitted in her mind’s eye, nonsensical combinations of faerie creatures, cartwheeling, dancing, twirling. Faeries fighting, with long swords, terrible, savage weapons.
‘I will adore you, Faye Morgan, if you do me the same kindness,’ he whispered. ‘Give me the whole of yourself and I will give you the world. I will give you everything that my kingdom can command.’
But in her dream, Faye was at sea on board a boat built for war, and Finn’s voice was the sound of screams in the water.
18
She woke up on what she thought was the third day, feeling sick.
After the first time she and Finn had made love, she had fallen deeply asleep, only to wake still in his bed.
She had been unable to leave it since then. A deep desire for Finn, like an addiction, filled her totally. All she could think about was him – pleasuring him, and being pleasured. She had not thought of home at all in that time. It was like being in a dream. Perhaps it was a dream; she still didn’t know.
On the second day, Finn had commanded that they be served with faerie wine and deliciously sweet, luscious faerie fruits. They were nothing like anything found in the human world, but Faye had found herself ravenous, and had taken her fill of them. Finn had watched approvingly.Eat, eat, my sweet one, he had purred delightedly as she had reached hungrily for one thing, and then the next, slurping from an ornate golden goblet of a rich, purple-hued wine. He had fed her, like a pet, and she had let him.
Whatever the faerie fruits were, they had kept her and Finn awake – feasting and making love – for what felt like a long time. But they had not been alone.
Flashes of memory, of contorted faces, twining limbs, of bodies and lips, slid in and out of her mind. Faye felt a wave of revulsion as the realisation hit her of what they had done – what she had done, willingly. She couldn’t remember how many of them had entered Finn’s chamber, but she knew that he had tied her ankles and wrists to the bed with long, supple golden chains, and had been teasing her again, making her beg him for her pleasure, when they arrived.
Our visitors wish to watch the sidhe-leth and the faerie king, he had said with amusement, and lowered his head to her dripping wet pussy. In front of the faerie host, he had licked her again, unhurriedly, as she felt shame and mortification mix with a dark and wicked desire to be watched.
But now, a sudden, searing headache came over her, and her mouth was completely dry. She closed her eyes and felt her stomach heave.
Faye made it to the bathroom in time and retched until there was nothing left to come up. She slumped against the wall, the luxurious rugs under her legs, and tried to steady her breathing. Slowly, she got up, went to the sink and poured some water from a pink crystal jug into her hand and gulped repeatedly until she felt a little clearer.
She was a mess. Her face was pale, smudged with food and stained with wine. Her wrists and ankles were bruised.
How long had she really been here, in the time of the human world? She covered her face with her hands as she felt her humanity, her body, fight back against the drunkenness Murias had seduced her with. She was sick again.
It was a purge of everything she had swallowed without question. A sudden, vivid memory of making love to Finn in his bed while a host of faeries watched, laughed and pleasured themselves came back to her, and she stared at her reflection in the mirror in shock. What had she done? Finn hadn’t made herdo it, she was fairly sure of that. She had done as she desired; deep down, she knew that.
She started to cry. She felt the shame for what she had done. This wasn’t who she was. Faye Morgan, daughter of Modron Morgan, granddaughter to generations of strong, practical, magical Morgan women. Had they come to Murias like this? Had they lost themselves in lust and excess?
And yet, even though she was miserable, she also started to feel more awake than she had since she had first entered Murias. Anger gave her clarity; perhaps anger was a tool that could be used against faerie enchantment.
Faye remembered Annie talking about how she made herself cry on stage:All ye got to do is think aboot somethin’ really sad before ye go on. Like, really get yourself goin’.She could do the same thing. Faye reached into her memory to the few times she had been really furious and tried to place herself back in the moment.
‘What are you doing,sidhe-leth?’
Finn Beatha stood in the doorway to the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. He was naked, his hair tousled, but otherwise as golden and beautiful as he had ever been; not dirty and bruised as she was. ‘Come back to bed.’
‘No. I’m leaving. Going home.’ She stood defiantly, trying to look stronger than she felt. ‘That was…what we did – I was not myself. I was drunk, or something.’
‘On the contrary, Faye. You were more yourself than you have ever been. You have started to reclaim your fae nature.’ He smiled lazily, watching her.
‘What does that mean?’ she spat, furious.
‘The fae are lustful by nature. It is part of who we are. Part of who you are. My faerie creatures enjoy watching their king and his consort make love. It feeds them.’
