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Ash
While the far edge of unseelie land dropped into grey, choppy sea that stretched to the horizon, seelie land had a range of small snow-tipped mountains that loomed in the distance, giving the sense that no matter how far you walked, you’d never be able to reach them.
Nua had told me stories of the giant bearded man who lived alone up there, saying he had been spotted only once or twice in seelie’s recorded history, and only ever from afar. I wondered if he was a simple fae or a Higher Spirit or something in between, like the Brid’s King of Boars. There was probably a lot out here that I’d never heard of, but that was mainly because I hadn’t had the time to actually explore the land I now ruled over.
I kept thinking about what Mol had said. “You’re still living like a mortal.”
Was I?
As we walked through the kingswood, I let my branch hand brush against a tree trunk and realised I had felt more fae when I’d been living in the forest with Nua and Gillie. Exploring the depths of Orna. Wandering around it high on magic mushrooms. Living in a true sidhe, not a huge, gaudy palace.
Now that I was thinking about it, I’d probably acted the most fae when I hadn’t even been full fae—when I’d still been a mortal living on the Carlin’s land. There, I’d at least had the time to attempt potioncraft. I’d spent lots of time with my hands buried in the soil while I gardened and grew things. I’d gotten good at verbally sparring with the Folk in the village when they tried to cheat me out of money. I’d attended their parties and played their games of favours and wandered around unseelie land with Caom.
What had I done since becoming king? Sat in meetings. Spent hours in my throne room listening to the Folk’s problems. Eaten and slept.
That was it.
I’d tried going back to the mortal world to say goodbye to it. To leave that part of my life behind, because it had all been taken from me so abruptly. But maybe it hadn’t worked, or maybe that was the wrong way to think of it. Maybe I was still clinging on because I didn’t want to say goodbye to it. I didn’t want to forget it.
We followed Mol in silence as she ambled through the trees, whistling cheerfully, occasionally bending down to pluck a flower from the forest floor until she had a small bunch of them. The ground started sloping under our feet, the trees thinning, until we emerged into a small basin covered in lush green grass with a stream running through it.
The mountains looked closer now, but still impossibly far. The land was growing hillier, rising up and dipping back down in gentle mounds. Considering her bulk, Mol’s footsteps were light as she led us down into the shallow basin until I could see a doorway cut out of one of the hills, an awning made from branches and hanging moss above it.
Flowers were everywhere. Blanketing the ground, growing from bushes crammed together on either side of the doorway, forming a path to it. Lavender and roses and hydrangea. Sweetpeas and passionfruit flowers creeping up crudely made trellising. The air was thick with their scent, as well as the cacophony of pollinators flying between them. Fat bumblebees, blue mason bees, butterflies, hummingbird moths. A short distance away, next to a fenced-off garden overflowing with fruit and vegetables—courgettes, runner beans, tomatoes, strawberries and stone pots with bushy herbs—was an apiary, honeybees buzzing around it.
“Are you decent, love?” Mol called as we approached. “We have visitors.”
She plucked a final rose from one of the bushes, then turned and gave me a wink. “Don’t tell her.”
I didn’t smile back. I didn’t know why she’d brought us here. Well, actually I did. So she and Fioda could lecture me again.
I really wasn’t in the mood for it. I wasn’t in the mood for anything. I’d just wanted to spend a final day with Nua and Gillie before accepting my fate.
“Ah!” Fioda appeared in the doorway of the sidhe with a warm smile. She was wearing loose linen dungarees with a baggy white shirt underneath, and her long hair hung in big waves of tight curls, framing her face like a cloudy halo. “Welcome.”
“We appreciate you having us,” Nua said politely as Mol stepped forward and thrust out the bunch of flowers she’d collected.
“For my lady,” she said with a mischievous grin.
Fioda beamed, taking the flowers and tilting her chin up when Mol leaned down for a firm kiss. “Thank you, my dear.”
“Now.” Mol wrapped her muscular arm around Fioda’s shoulders and turned to face us. “Our little king here is having a crisis of self, it seems.”
“Oh dear.” Fioda cocked her head, gazing at me in concern.
Nua and Gillie looked at me. When I stayed silent, Nua cleared his throat and stepped forward, holding out the Brid’s journal. “Ash found the Brid’s journal from just before she became queen. In it she talks about the temperament of the former queen, our grandmother, trying to make her softer and kinder when she killed her and took the power. Ash is… worried that the same thing is now happening to him, but with the Brid’s influence.”
“Not worried,” I rasped tonelessly. “I know it is. It’s already happening.”
“I see,” Fioda said softly, her solid gold irises flashing in the sun as she looked at me, then glanced down at the journal. “Why don’t we sit down?”
“I’ll get drinks.” Mol pressed a kiss to Fioda’s hair, then paused as she glanced at me. “Maybe not wine or ale this time.”
I rubbed a hand over my hot cheek, but couldn’t bring myself to care about my dishevelled, unwashed appearance. When Nua and Gillie began to follow Fioda over to small, roughly hewn wooden table with several tree stumps as seats, I dragged my feet behind them.
After sitting in silence, I folded my hands on the table and waited. A hoverfly landed on the knuckle of my branch hand, and I stared at it in silence. When it eventually took off, I resisted the urge to rest my head on my hands and close my eyes. I was so tired. Drained completely with nothing left. I’d been sleeping terribly since Lonan left, and I hadn’t slept at all last night, but it was more than that. I just wanted to give up.
I felt Nua’s hand rest on my back but didn’t react. Mol reappeared from the sidhe carrying a tray with a glass pitcher filled with cloudy, pale-yellow liquid, lemon pulp floating in it.
