‘You’re not welcome here,’ she repeated. ‘And how dare you interrupt this ritual? These people didn’t ask you here. I didn’t ask you here. Be gone!’ Faye shouted as loudly as she could and removed the banishing sigil from her pocket; she had it on her at all times except when she was asleep, and that was only because she slept naked – if she’d suddenly started wearing pyjamas or something with a pocket, Rav would have thought it was odd. She held it up in front of Lyr’s face, but he smiled, took it from her fingers and placed it gently back in her pocket.
‘You do not need protection from me. I have told you, I am your father,’ he repeated. ‘Don’t you want to know why I am here, daughter?’ He stepped forward to take her hand. ‘Aren’t you at all curious about me after all this time?’
‘No. Leave me alone.’
Lyr regarded her dispassionately.
‘I’m not your child, and I’m not part of the faerie realm any more,’ she cried. ‘Please, just leave me in peace!’
‘As you wish, daughter.’ Lyr stepped away from her. ‘But know that Falias is your home as much as this world is, and that it awaits you. As I do.’
He nodded to the circle and walked away into the trees, his golden light dimming until blackness replaced it, and Faye felt she was blind.
9
Excerpt from Grainne Morgan’s diary
1 October 1588
Gwyn Beatha came to me on the beach and we talked. He is a very beautiful being, and many is the time that I have submitted to him in the old tradition and enjoyed it. Tonight, he spoke to me honestly for the first time. We discussed Marian and the baby. He said that he must take it now that it has been conceived, and she is too far past the time where the tea can be ministered. I had to agree, but I managed to get him not to take Marian. She is a silly child, but she does not deserve the fate of the faerie reel for her stupidity; also, I am training her, and I do not wish the training to be for naught.
When we had parleyed, Gwyn offered to take me to Murias to visit his castle. I have never been there before, so I cautiously assented after he assured me that no ill would come to me there and I would be merely a visitor, returning when I wished.
It was more beautiful than I could have imagined. I refused the food and wine, and instead had the king take me to his library, which my mother had told me about. A vast space filled with ancient volumes, some made of seawater, some made of glass, some just songs in the air. I was so moved by the experience that I cried. I was not allowed to read any of them, but he held me to his chest and crooned soothing words to me. I will never, ever forget this day.
‘Faye, this is everybody. Everybody, meet Faye Morgan.’
The restaurant was crowded and noisy, and Faye could feel herself contract against its busyness; the jostling, shouting and laughing stabbed at her – a cloud of pins. She’d never loved crowds, being used to quiet, coastal Abercolme, where the soft song of the sea lulled her dreams.
Still, Rav held her hand and she squeezed his wide palm affectionately. These were his friends; London was his city. She could see from the way his face glowed that he was happy to be home.
And who could blame him? Faye waved a shy hello at the men and women clustered around the long table, drinking, talking and laughing. Yet, Rav still wasn’t back to his usual self. He had refused to go to hospital after she’d rescued him from Murias. The whole episode had made a confident man anxious, and she could detect some of the frayed seams under the smooth image he liked to present.
Faye still had nightmares about the emaciated bodies that the faerie dancers had trampled on in the castle of Murias. It was a slow, horrible death. She had managed to rescue Rav, but he had deep wounds that would take months to heal.
Normal, she reminded herself as she smiled around her.Remember, this is normal life. These people don’t knowanything about deadly faerie dances and wild kelpies.As far as she knew,Rav hadn’t told them the real story.
Faye had said nothing when she had returned from the Mabon ritual the day before. Rav had asked her how it had gone:did you have a nice time with your new friends?As if she’d gone for a play date with some preschoolers and not an occult ritual in the woods. And she had lied and saidyes, it was nice, thank you, but she was tired and needed an early night. He hadn’t asked her anything more. Half of Faye wanted to tell him all about it, but she knew that Rav was trying to move past his experiences of being in the faerie realms. She knew that he didn’t want to hear about it. So, she said nothing. And the act of saying nothing made her feel resentful.
Rav introduced her to the people sitting around them: his tall, bearded business partner Roni and his wife, Sumi; a man with round John Lennon glasses and untidy blonde hair, wearing a faded music T-shirt and a torn cardigan called Jeremy; and next to him, a finely featured woman with blonde hair to her waist dressed entirely in black, who Rav introduced as Mallory.
‘It’s so great to meet you finally! I’ve heard such a lot about you!’ Sumi grabbed Faye’s hand across the table. She was deliciously full-figured, and her dress, a wrap-over in a green and blue palm leaf print against a pink background, caressed her curves. ‘I’m so glad Rav’s found someone. He’s a workaholic. He needs a woman in his life.’ Her smile was infectious and warm, and Faye liked her immediately.
‘I’m glad I found him,’ Faye said, smiling.
‘So, tell us about this amazing shop of yours! Rav told us – and, by us, I mean he told Roni, and Roni told me.’ She smiled affectionately at her husband, a tall, portly black man with a beard who was laughing with Rav. ‘He told us you’re a witch! And your place, it’s been in the family for generations, I think?’
The table quieted and turned to stare at her; Faye would have preferred the noise to everyone looking at her.
‘That’s right. My shop’s called Mistress of Magic. I sell candles, herb incense, crystals, tarot, books. That kind of thing.’
‘Cool.’ Jeremy, opposite her, raised his eyebrow. ‘I do a bit of tarot myself sometimes.’
‘Jer! You do not. You did it for me once and you just looked everything up in that book,’ Sumi scoffed affectionately.
‘Whatever. It takes practice.’ He shrugged. ‘I was going to do a course.’
‘You should. There’s bound to be some good teachers in London.’ Faye nodded. ‘I’ve taught people. It’s not hard, really – it’s a combination of practice, imagination – and some reading the book, too,’ she concluded with a smile.
