Lara
“It’s been almost five weeks now, Isla. He’s not going to follow,” I say as we climb the steps to the Performing Arts Center where I’ll be singing with the Celtic Chaos choir in about half an hour’s time. “I need to forget him, pretend I never fell into Faery. I don’t plan to sit around and paint pictures or write songs about it forever like Mom did, totally obsessed and only half living in the real world.”
Smirking, she pats my stomach. “Yeah, that might not be so easy to achieve with the little bean you’re sprouting in there.” She claps her hands and rubs them together, her blue eyes sparkling. “Do you think it will take after its dad and be able to do magic? If it can control the weather, maybe we can ask it to pour rain regularly on our roof garden. Save us from having to water it over summer when we’re feeling lazy.”
“Well, really, we can only hope and pray it’s born a bona fide wizard,” I say, sarcasm lacing my words as pain lances my heart.
It’s difficult enough adjusting to the news I’m going to be a single mom, let alone the fact my half-fae baby might possess uncontrollable powers. Imagine toddler tantrums fueled by wind magic—cyclones and hurricanes storming through the house every time I insist the broccoli and peas get eaten. No thanks.
For some reason, Ether’s spell didn’t work on my cousin and, honestly, I don’t like to dwell on why that might be. The possibilities are terrifying.
When I landed back in Blackbrook on a balmy Friday night in the very same alleyway I’d disappeared from, devastated and disorientated, I stumbled across the road to Max’s diner to face Isla at work.
After turning bright red and hugging me so hard I nearly choked to death, she declared that if I’d spent the last six months teaching singing to street kids in Brazil, then she’d been in the Amazon jungle preparing a ballet troupe of talented spider monkeys for an upcoming world tour. She followed that up with a demand to know where I’d actually been and what the flaming hell the guy’s name was, and I decided to go with the unbelievable truth.
I’ve been in Faery with a cursed fae prince called Ever, I told her.
Eyes narrowed, she inspected my falcon-embroidered tunic and fancy hand-made boots and declared that considering my obnoxious obsession with my mom’s paintings and constant dreams about fae hunks, it was probably the truth. My boss, Max, thought we’d lost our ever-loving minds and sent us home to sort out our stories. Or at least my story.
Tucked up in bed with a mug of hot chai, I told Isla the complete tale, and she believed every single word. Amazing. Yet five weeks later, Aunt Clare and everyone else I know still become enveloped in a muddled fog whenever my ‘recent travels’ are brought up, stuttering and frowning in confusion like they’ve got dementia. It’s beyond weird.
Being in the human world again feels wrong. Being without Ever is wrong. Regardless, here I am, and I’ve got no choice but to make the best of it.
Puffing from the climb, we reach the top of the stairs out front of the concert hall, the concrete flowing into a wide plaza dotted with people and abstract sculptures. We turn to take in the view over the city. Skyscrapers glint in the sun and there’s not a cloud breaking up the bright azure sky. Good. I can’t bear clouds, especially dramatic ones. They only remind me of Ever.
“Well, what did I expect?” I say to Isla, adjusting the shoulder strap of my bulging bag. “A fae warrior prince to come strolling through the veil between worlds to live happily-ever-after here in Blackbrook, the capital of frosted donuts, sauerkraut, and white squirrels? Actually, I think he’d really like the squirrels. Can you hold onto my jacket until after the performance?”
“Sure,” she says as I shrug it off and pass it to her. “Maybe somehow you’ll find a way to open the portal and can take your child back to Faery to show him.”
“Oh, great idea. I’m positive his mother would be thrilled to see me.”
We laugh and follow the building around to the stage door.
Isla kisses my cheek. “Good luck. No doubt you’ll see Mom and me staring and crying at you from the second row. We’ll meet you right here when you’re done, then we’ll catch the train to Max’s. He’s devastated he couldn’t come.”
“I know. Hence the celebration dinner he’s hosting. Get some footage for him on your cell, okay? See you soon.”
I show my pass to security and duck through the entrance into a rabbit warren of backstage corridors and dressing rooms, finally finding a door with our choir’s name on it. When I enter, my nerves are swept away by happy chatter and a warm welcome from the other singers.
After sweating through an audition a week ago, I was astounded to get an acceptance phone call from Celtic Chaos’s leader. This is my first paid gig with the popular group, and I hope I won’t let them down.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m standing center stage, sucking back a deep breath, ready to launch into my brief solo and hoping I don’t stuff it up. At least I know my crazy singing magic doesn’t work now I’m back home, so I shouldn’t turn the audience into wrinkled prunes like I did Aer. That’s a plus.
Each seat in the thousand-capacity hall is occupied. Carved plywood panels line the walls and stepped ceiling, enhancing the wonderful acoustics. It’s warm and rich and like being inside a beehive, reminding me of something I might see in Faery—lavish and opulent, but also organic and functional.
I fix my gaze on the crystal lights that drip from the ceiling, every one of them like exploded stars shooting through a galaxy, and sing, my skin buzzing and my heart pounding, and for sixty-three seconds, I forget about draygonets, golden-eyed curse makers, pointy-eared babies. And Ever.
When the voices of the choir rejoin mine, visions of silver eyes and cruel-pouting lips come flooding back, and it’s as though I sing only for him. Only Ever. The song goes on. It’s wonderful. Uplifting. I love it. Then it ends, and I fall back to Earth. Back to loneliness and heartache.
I return to the dressing room and toast our performance with a glass of bubbly water before Isla and Aunt Clare whisk me away to Max’s diner. We have a fantastic feast of caponata casserole and house-baked bread rolls and spend the night laughing and joking, and delighting in each other’s company. I almost feel normal. Human. Like I belong.
Ready to make my sixth trip to the bathroom, I push out of my chair and stand, about to complement my Aunt on her new bright-red hair, when the words die in my throat, choking me.
A man stands on the other side of the glass door, staring at it. A man who looks exactly like Ever. His large hands flatten on the glass and he pushes through, eyes searching the room. Glowing, metallic silver eyes.
He hitches a thumb into his jeans pocket like he’s been wearing them forever and grins at me. Oh my God! It is him. It’s Ever.
The room goes silent as he takes long strides forward. His big body slams into mine as he gathers me into his arms and kisses me like we’re alone.
A ruckus breaks out around us, laughter, catcalls, glasses clinking, all of it sounding a million miles away. Nothing to do with us. Nothing important. Only this. Only him.
Eventually, he breaks away, lips leaving mine, arms still holding tight. “Lara! By the Elements, it worked. I’m here. I wasn’t sure if it would bring me to the right place.”
“How? How did you manage to find me?”
“I heard you singing. And the magic followed you.”
“The magic?” shrieks Aunt Clare. “Your young man is unusual, Lara. Extremely handsome, though.”
“He’s a poet,” I lie. “He often talks strangely. You get used to it pretty quickly.” I take his hand and turn toward the table. “Everyone, this is Ever. The guy I met while I was in Brazil.”
“Brazil?” says Ever, and I laugh and kiss him again before he can tell everyone about Talamh Cúig, and his seven falcons, and how his frightening mother is the Empress of the Land of Five, Sovereign of the Five Elements and Ruler of the Seas of All Time. I don’t think that would go down too well with Max. He’d be calling the mental health emergency response team before I could draw a breath.
“So, this is a surprise,” I say. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
He opens his mouth, but before he speaks, Clare says, “Sit down, Ever. Tell us all about yourself and we can—”
“Ah, not a great idea, Mom,” Isla interrupts. “Look at how pleased they are to see each other. I think they need some alone time. Ever’s from out of town, ah… Texas… I think Lara said, so they’ll have to go back to our place. I’ll call Sam. We can stay there tonight.”
Clare agrees, and after making rushed goodbyes, still clinging to each other, we burst out into the most magical night I could ever imagine. The stars look the same, the air is tinged with the scent of garbage from the alleyway, but my fae prince is here. Ever followed just like Ether said he would.
“Look at you,” I say, taking his face between my palms. I tug at the black t-shirt, the soft leather belt buckled around his waist. “You’re meant to thread it through the loops, not just strap it around you,” I say, fiddling with it.
He smiles down at my fingers working the buckle. “These clothes are very odd. I admit I may be wearing them incorrectly.”
“That’s okay. Luckily, I’m here to help,” I whisper against his mouth, whipping off the belt.
“Get a room,” yells a hip-hop dude, his friends hooting and hollering at us as they pass by.
Ever frowns and takes a lunging step in their direction.
I wrench him back by the waist of his jeans. “Hold up, buddy. Just let them go.” When the belt is looped and buckled correctly, I kiss him again. “We need to get home. I’m sorry I have to put you through this straight away, but I need to be alone with you. You’ll just have to trust me.”
“I trust you. What trial must we go through to reach your place of residence? A battle? A long horseback journey?”
“No. Something much worse. A trip on public transportation.” I wrap my arm around his waist and propel him forward. “Come on. I’ll explain as we walk to the station.”
“Public transportation… do the people carry us?”
“Not quite.”
I prepare him for the train journey as well as I can, but he still looks around baffled and appalled at the garishly lit car, the dirt-covered seats, the three other passengers—two girls in crisp business suits and a jock who shouts into his cell, braying like a donkey.
When an incredibly drunk and disheveled man gets on, Ever nudges me, “Look. A troll. You have them here also.”
“Shhh. Best to keep your comments to yourself until we arrive at my home.”
“What is your castle like?”
I laugh. “What? I told you I was fairly poor, didn’t I? Picture the capsules you told me about that the lesser faeries live in at the Merits’ court. Apartments are a bit like that.”
His jaw drops, and he gives my hand a sympathetic squeeze.
Sitting side-by-side, our gazes roam over each other. He looks amazing, too beautiful for this world, and even though his features seem a little less sharp, his eyes not quite so wild, he’s still a little too feral-looking. I push hair behind his ears and find the tips round. “You’re wearing a glamor.”
He smirks and his appearance flickers. There are the pointy ears, the knife-edge cheekbones, and metallic-glowing eyes. He even has a thin gold circlet of leaves and feathers woven through his hair.
“Ever,” I say in a chiding voice. “You couldn’t leave a crown behind?”
“Of course not. I know you are fond of them,” he says, and presses me close, kissing me until the name of our stop is called through the speakers. He jolts at the sound. “The metal beast speaks, and what a horrible voice it has.”
On the short walk back to my place, I try to explain as best I can about our world, reminding myself he’s never been here before, only heard stories.
When we arrive, he prowls around my apartment, frowning as he touches everything, I offer him food, which he rejects, so I pour him a drink.
“Here,” I say, passing him the glass. “Have some water.”
He takes a sip and grimaces. “That’s not water. What have you done to it?”
“Sorry. It’s not exactly fresh as a mountain stream. That’s modern life in a city, I guess. Now get rid of your glamor.”
He does, glowing silver and gold as he places the despised water on the kitchen counter.
I take his hand. “As I said, I live with my cousin Isla and my Aunt Clare. But I have my own bedroom. And it’s quite big. Plenty of room for you if you want to stay for a while.”
“I want to stay wherever you are. Always.”
My head spins so hard with the joy of hearing those words that I can barely navigate through the hallway to my section of the house without bumping into walls.
As soon as we enter my room, he does another circuit of the area, reminding me of an animal securing his territory. Curtains move with a flick of his hand. Blankets and cushions are flung off my couch and bed. He goes into the ensuite, making a sound of wonder as the toilet flushes five times in a row, a mini waterfall in a ceramic bowl.
“It’s a toilet,” I call out. “Where you, you know, relieve yourself.”
“Toyylet,” he drawls, reentering the room. “Such a strange word.”
“You’re strange,” I counter, linking my hands behind his warm neck. “But I like you a lot. When are you going to kiss me again?”
“Tomorrow.” He pushes me onto the bed and climbs over me, looking pleased with himself as his lips brush mine. “It seems lying is possible in your world. That was a test.”
“Well, that new skill should make life easier for you.” I pull him down and don’t stop kissing him until my lips are almost too tender to speak. “Take off your t-shirt.”
He looks at his pants, and I laugh, showing him what I mean.
Running my fingers first over the tips of his ears, his sulky top lip, then his chest tattoo, I ask, “So did you just walk out of the kingdom? And what’s happening with the curse?”
“It progressed while you were gone—only one week passed in Faery. Now I am here, I feel reborn, no pain, no hint of the sluggish black poison in my veins.”
“And Raff?”
His expression darkens. “It will already have a hold on him. I must go back at some point and find a way to end the curse.” His fingers stroke feather-light over my belly. “But I will stay as long as I can, and then come back. I would not want to miss the birth of our child.”
“What? How could you know about that?”
“Magic, I suppose. So, it is true?”
“Yep.”
He smiles, huffing a delighted laugh. His hand snatches at the air, then his palm unfurls between us. “I’m returning something of yours.”
“My dragonfly necklace! Thank you!”
I grasp it between my hands and kiss it. Laughing, Ever takes it and places the chain over my neck.
“What about the queen…”
“She’s not quite as heartless as she would have you believe, Lara. If she wants to lay eyes on her grandchild or see me again, she must accept you. She’s made some promises. She will keep them.”
“So, your magic still works here?”
“A little. It will weaken without my bathing at the source.”
“Will you be able to keep your glamor up?”
“I don’t know. We shall find out.” He tucks hair behind my ears. “Your cousin with the yellow hair, she saw through it.”
“What?” I spring up and rest my weight on an elbow. “How could you possibly know that?”
“She could not take her eyes from the gold circlet, the tattoos glowing brightly on my arms.”
“No. Surely she was just taking you in. You’re quite a sight, you know, even with your faeness turned down.”
“If you say so,” he whispers, lips brushing mine.
For a moment, the bright feathers of Isla’s orange and purple tattoo flash through my mind, and a dark shiver creeps along my spine. I push the horrible thought away, the one that niggles and taunts and terrifies me.
Isla’s tattoo is of a firebird, not a dragonfly. It’s fine. I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’m being morbid. Paranoid. Silly.
I inch closer to Ever, hugging him tighter. “Thank you for following me.”
“Always. I’ll always follow you. This world and the next, I’ll be by your side.”
At the beginning of today, I never could have guessed that at the end of it I’d have the very thing, the very person I longed for right here in my arms. Life is magic. Magic is life.
Well, I guess, I’d better make the most of it then.
“Come closer,” I say.
And he does.
