22. Ivran and the Dryads
“ I have someone I want you to meet.” Rodney stood outside of Aisling’s apartment, bouncing one foot anxiously against the ground. He gingerly grasped two steaming to-go cups that were likely burning through his gloves. Aisling gazed at him for a moment through her peephole. She hadn’t forgiven him yet.
“I don’t want to meet any more of your so-called friends, Rodney,” she hissed through the door.
“He isn’t like Lyre, Ash. He’s Solitary, like me.” He stacked one cup atop the other so he could shake the heat out of his hands one at a time.
Aisling scoffed. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? I don’t particularly like you right now, either.”
“Come on,” he insisted. “Open up. Your tea’s getting cold.”
Aisling cracked the door only as far as the chain lock would allow. “You didn’t bring them here, did you?” So far, Rodney was the only faerie who knew where she lived, and she hoped to keep it that way. When he shook his head, she shut the door, slid the lock, then pulled it open wide.
“Thanks,” he said with a grin. Rodney handed Aisling a cup and followed her inside to the living room where Briar was sprawled on the rug. He regarded Rodney lazily from this position, tail thumping on the ground. “Hello to you, too,” Rodney acknowledged dryly.
While Rodney fell back onto Aisling’s sofa and stretched out his long legs, she stood still only halfway into the room. “So?”
“ So, ” he emphasized, “come sit down and drink your tea, and I’ll tell you what I’ve been working on.”
She did so begrudgingly, unconvinced that some manner of Fae wasn’t about to burst through her door or clamber out of the backpack he’d dropped beside his shoes on the mat. Briar rolled over to lay his head on her feet. He’d been stuck to her like glue since she’d returned from the Wild, perfectly content to spend the last two days in bed with her.
Despite her best efforts to get back onto a normal sleep schedule, Aisling’s head felt fuzzy and clouded. Between the swirling, vicious thoughts and the constant churning in her stomach, she hadn’t yet managed it. She’d lie awake, tossing and turning throughout most of the night, then sleep away most of the day. She’d been able to reclaim her afternoons, if only to walk with Briar down to the shore and listen to the sea. Once, she would have gone to the forest to clear her head. She couldn’t even bring herself to look towards the tree line now.
Rodney’s eyes shone with excitement. She’d humor him for now. “Fine, I’ll bite. What have you been working on?”
“What would you say if I told you that I could get you into the Seelie Court tomorrow?” He took a sip from his cup. The smug expression he wore nearly made Aisling want to slap him all over again.
“I would say, why don’t we just go now and get it over with?” It came out harsher than she meant it to, but the sentiment underlying her words wasn’t one she could hide. She did want to get this over with—all of it—so that she could return to her life and try to pretend that none of this had ever happened. She could fulfill whatever was needed from her as the subject of the prophecy and move on.
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you even a little curious what I was doing while you were gone?”
“Besides not trying to get me out?” she shot back. Rodney winced and the hurt in his eyes weakened her resolve. He felt guilty; she knew he did. In a gesture of goodwill, Aisling settled back on the couch and took a sip of her tea. “Tell me.”
“I found the way in. It took a while to convince someone to tell me where to find the Thin Place, and I had to make some bargains that I’m…less than proud of.” He rubbed his neck. When he caught Aisling’s warning glare, he added quickly, “None that will come back on you. I swear. But I managed to work my way down the line to Ivran.”
“Ivran? ”
“Ivran knows the dryads who watch over their Thin Place. I doubt they are as close as he likes to claim, but I paid a handsome price for him to broker an introduction.” Aisling pictured storybooks with illustrations of leafy, treelike women dancing in meadows and groves. That they, too, could be right here on Brook Isle would have seemed unbelievable just weeks ago.
“Where is the Seelie Thin Place?” She remembered this time to ask the question as specifically as she could. Rodney smiled in approval.
“Do you remember that hike Lida dragged us out on a few years back, up to the viewpoint at the top of the hill on the north side of the island? When it rained the whole time?”
“And you slid halfway down the hill in the mud? I remember.” It had been the last hike she’d been able to convince him to join her and her friends on. “There was a bench at the top, I think.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’d prefer not to revisit that particular part of the memory. But beyond the viewpoint, back up the hill a bit, there were those two old hawthorn trees.”
Aisling frowned, trying to imagine them there. She couldn’t call them to mind, only the way the ocean looked from that bench on the cliffside. The water was choppy that day, all whitecapped waves and roiling sea foam. “I don’t think I noticed them.”
“It’s just there, between the two. I guess they bank on people being so distracted by the view that they don’t wander back there much.” He shrugged, then set his empty cup on the floor. “Either way, Ivran said he’d meet us at the overlook tomorrow morning and take you through. ”
She bristled at that. She wasn’t going into the Wild alone; not again. “Take us through,” she corrected pointedly. “You’re sure as hell not getting out of it. You’re coming with me.”
“I figured you might say that.” Rodney stretched, then settled deeper into the cushions. Drawing out Aisling’s anticipation to an annoying degree. “I’ve already requested time off work.”
The wind was biting as the pair climbed the trail. There were steps, but they were steep and slick and Rodney complained the entire way up that he hadn’t worn the right shoes. Aisling had cautioned him earlier that morning when he picked her up that even his work boots would have been a wiser choice than the flat sneakers he’d settled for, but he’d refused to return to the trailer to make the switch. Evidently, the strenuous hike uphill had faded from his memory.
Briar was as unbothered by the cold as he was by the grade of the trail, so Aisling looped his leash around her waist and let him pull her along. She’d deliberated most of the night about bringing him, but in the end, she hadn’t been able to leave him behind. She needed him to be her anchor. She was nervous; more nervous even than she had been entering the Undercastle for the first time on Nocturne. She’d been na?ve then. Now, she knew just what kind of trouble could await her through the Veil.
“I’m curious about something,” Aisling panted. The wind whipped her hair across her face, prompting her to reach back and secure the end of her ponytail under her jacket collar. “Why did Lyre owe you a favor in the first place?”
Rodney was stopped in the middle of the trail. Bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath for the tenth time. He looked up at Aisling, squinting against the sea salt that somehow still stung even as high up as they were. “What?”
“I asked him whether you were trying to get me out, and he said that he didn’t owe you that big of a favor.”
Still breathless, he waved a hand dismissively. “He just likes me to keep my ear to the ground at events like Nocturne and such. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a bit less conspicuous than he and those other robed zealots.”
Aisling’s skin prickled uncomfortably when she recalled how Lyre’s yellow eyes flashed in the low light. “I’m not sure I like Lyre.”
Rodney laughed, finally able to stand upright again. “No one really likes Lyre, Ash, but you can’t deny that he’s useful. He’s a good ally to keep in your corner.”
“I thought the same until he blackmailed me. He was using me the entire time.” The pair resumed their climb slowly, side by side.
“It’s in his nature,” he explained simply. “All of our nature, really. And I’d say you took to it rather well yourself.”
Aisling ground her teeth but remained silent. Though Lyre had undoubtedly told him of her closeness with Kael, Rodney still believed that she’d been manipulating him all along. Playing the role they’d crafted for her from the very first night. For now, she was content to let him believe it. Having never once seen him so much as glance at any woman or man on the island, she couldn’t imagine he’d understand. Even if he did, he’d still think her irrational for it. She certainly did.
Once they made it to the overlook, Rodney fell onto the bench. The weatherworn wood creaked under his weight. Aisling stood closer to the edge to take in the view. It was too foggy to see as far as Waldron Island to the east, and too cold to linger long, but for a moment she savored it: the quickening of her heart as she looked over the cliffside, the turbulent sea surging against the rocks below. It looked the way she felt inside.
When she turned back, her gaze landed on the hawthorn trees. A safe distance off the trail, they stood together to face the battering winds. Despite the winter chill, their branches were still laden with clusters of berries, tiny rubies among blazing golden leaves. They wouldn’t last much longer, particularly once the morning frosts arrived, but for now they clung steadfastly to life. She admired them for it: their resilience.
“Ash,” Rodney said, dragging her attention away from the trees. “I’d like to introduce you to Ivran.”
She understood at once why she hadn’t heard the faerie approach: he was small, maybe only as large as a loaf of bread. He was perched on the back of the bench not far from Rodney’s shoulder and balanced himself against each gust of wind with long, translucent wings. The membranes that threaded them so delicately caught what little sunlight strayed through the clouds overhead, glittering. An unruly mop of golden curls framed a ruddy, boyish face with pointed features .
But it was the male’s lower body that most clearly marked him as Fae. From the waist down, he took on the form of a grasshopper. His two hind legs, thin and spiny, mirrored those of the insect, each bending at a sharp angle near the top.
Aisling approached slowly. She did her best not to stare, but his unusual form was captivating. Thus far, it was the most remarkable she’d seen yet. To his credit, despite being an avid bug chaser, Briar was unaffected.
“Ivran, Aisling. Aisling, Ivran.” Rodney gestured between the two. Ivran dipped his upper half in a sort of bow, wavering a bit on his perch.
“A pleasure, miss,” he chirped. His voice was exactly as she’d expected it to sound, not terribly far off from the insect’s evening song. A sweet, lilting intonation.
Aisling smiled, her first genuine grin in days. The joy that seemed to radiate from the faerie was infectious. “The pleasure’s mine, Ivran. We’re grateful for your help.”
“Don’t be too quick to thank me; I haven’t gotten you in just yet.” He winked and his upturned black eyes sparkled mischievously. “What business does a human and a changeling have with the Seelie Court, anyhow?”
Before Aisling could give an excuse, Rodney said smoothly, “Business that is none of yours.”
Ivran raised his hands. “Point taken, my friend. Let’s get to it then.” He sprang from the bench to the ground, beckoning over his slender shoulder, and Rodney and Aisling followed him towards the trees. His iridescent green exoskeleton shimmered blue and purple as he hopped along. Halfway there, he paused, drawing the group to a stop. Briar halted just short of stepping on one of his limbs. “Wait here.”
Ivran bounded ahead and up into one of the trees. If Aisling squinted, she could just see him whispering against its trunk. She blinked, and two females materialized as though they had peeled themselves from the bark. Indeed, their skin resembled the texture of bark, but softer. It bore intricate patterns that mimicked the swirling grain of wood. An earthy scent followed in their wake, reminiscent of freshly turned soil.
As they conversed with Ivran, each ribbon of their cascading ivy hair seemed to sway with a life of its own while the leaves up above did the same on the ocean breeze. Their limbs moved just as fluidly as the branches. They were the hawthorn trees, come to life. Aisling couldn’t help staring this time, mesmerized.
When Ivran nodded in their direction, Rodney nudged Aisling and they continued their approach. Aisling kept Briar at her side on a short leash. The dryads acknowledged them silently, each retreating to press her back against her respective tree. Ivran gazed at their lithe, swaying forms, love-struck.
“What was the price you paid for this, exactly?” Aisling asked under her breath.
Rodney smirked. “A glamour. He wanted to be a man for a night, to lay with one of them. Or both, maybe. I didn’t ask him to clarify.”
Aisling raised her eyebrows, glancing down again at Ivran. “Did he?”
“I filled my half of the bargain; I don’t care to know whether or not he followed through.”
She felt a twinge of sadness for the tiny faerie, longing for what he couldn’t have. If he had gotten his wish, she wondered whether he felt better or worse for it. If she could have, she would have told him that it is far less painful to remain blissfully ignorant than to miss something one might never have again.
The dryads leaned in towards each other, then, to clasp their hands high overhead. By the rustling of the leaves, it appeared that the hemlock trees followed suit. Between them, beneath their long arms, the Veil shimmered into view. Aisling sucked in a breath and pulled Briar in tighter. Rodney took her free hand, steadying her.
“Enjoy your visit,” Ivran trilled.