Chapter 18
Rowan
Things had been decidedly cooler between Caelan and me since that afternoon in the pools.
I had taken to having my daily bath there, instead of using the tub in my room.
Not only to save the backs of the boys who dutifully carried the endless buckets of water up the stairs, but because the waterfall offered a semblance of a modern shower.
That was the lie I told myself, anyway. Honestly, the real reason was that I was secretly hoping to run into Caelan. But he was either deliberately avoiding me or had my bathing schedule in hand, for I hadn’t seen him in there since that bittersweet day.
In fact, I was certain he was avoiding me.
I had searched the castle from top to bottom – there were entirely too many floors – but hadn’t found him anywhere.
I tried to brush it off. Tried to convince myself that he was not hiding.
But it ate away at me. Slowly chipping at my resolve.
Playing on my uncertainties. Tormenting me in an endless bullying whisper.
Today, however, I was putting a stop to it. I was so sick of that voice.
“Aenan?” I said, trying to sound casual. He was sitting at the head of the table, enjoying his breakfast. I had quickly grown accustomed to having my morning repast with my brother, even if he did spend the majority of the time trying to rile me up. I’m sure it gave him pleasure to do so.
“Hmm?”
“Have you seen Caelan recently?”
That annoying smirk that always seemed to shape his lips when he spoke with me slashed across his face. “Not recently, no,” he said vaguely.
“Do you know where he is?”
“No. Not his exact location, anyway.”
I tapped my foot. It was like pulling teeth. “You’re so annoying, did you know that?”
“Yes.”
Ugh! I clenched my fork and glared at him.
Snickering, his game apparently finished, he told me, “I’ve sent him on an errand. He should return this afternoon.”
“You could have just said that to begin with,” I stated, prickling with annoyance.
“Now, where’s the fun in that?” He rose from his seat. As he passed, he ruffled my hair, annoying me further.
“Oh, get out.” I made slapping motions at him with my hands, which only caused him to laugh more as he left the room.
I smiled at his departing back. My joy at being gifted the chance to even have an annoying brother overrode any irritation he caused me.
Turning back to my plate, I considered what to do for the rest of the day.
I’d already thoroughly explored the interior of the castle – the rooms that were unlocked on the first and second floors, anyway – and had taken to walking the grounds of an afternoon, so had quite a bit of time to fill between now and then.
My days had become rather monotonous, and my lack of purpose was starting to wear on me.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I glanced around the room, searching for inspiration.
When none presented itself, I heaved a sigh before rising from my seat. I suppose I could read.
Decision made, I headed towards the library, determined to lose myself in a fantasy tale. However, the excited chatter of voices halted my steps. Two housemaids, dusting nearby, were engaged in a spirited discussion about an upcoming festival in the village.
“Excuse me,” I interrupted, curious to know more.
“Sorry, milady,” one said, both of their heads bobbing in deference. “We will get right back to it.”
“No, it’s not that. I overheard what you were discussing and wanted to ask you about it. Did I hear right that there was something happening in the village?”
A glimmer of excitement lit up their faces, and the older one replied, “Oh yes, milady. The Winter Festival starts today, and we were just deciding which market stalls we were going to visit when we go to town.”
“The Winter Festival?” I’d never heard of it before.
“Yes. It’s a festival of light to celebrate the oncoming of winter,” the younger one replied.
“It runs right up to solstice, but today is the first day. There will be market stalls and food carts, and when the sun sets, the Solarflies emerge from the trees and light up the stalls in the square. Folk come from far and wide to see it. You should go, milady.”
The older maid bobbed her head in agreement.
I mulled over the idea. “Thank you,” I said, grateful for the information. “I might do that.”
I took my leave and sent a thought to Aenan. Where are you?
His response came back immediately. I’m in the study.
Changing direction, I crossed the hall and entered the study.
It resembled the library, but on a much smaller scale.
Dominating the space was a substantial desk, unlike the cosy seating arrangement of the other room.
The walls were covered in maps, all different types, which I assumed were of Caeldonia and the lands within.
Aenan sat at the large wooden desk, papers clutched in his hand. He glanced up at my approach.
“I was thinking of visiting Reverran today for the start of the Winter Festival. Would that be all right with you?” I asked, hoping for his approval.
“You don’t need my permission, Rowan. I’m not your keeper,” he replied. “I only ask that you give me enough notice if you plan to leave the estate, so I can organise some guards. Someone will need to accompany you.”
I made a face. “Is that really necessary? It’s not too far, and I have travelled the route before. I can even go with the maids, if it makes you feel better?”
He shook his head, looking amused. “While I have no qualms with you spending time with the maids, they are not guards and will not be able to protect you should something happen. Plus, do you really believe they’d be able to relax in your company, even in their downtime?”
I considered that. I couldn’t argue with his logic, having seen the way they lowered their eyes and bobbed their heads every time I entered a room.
It wasn’t hard to believe they would find it difficult to change their behaviour even outside of the castle.
Even Jesmina, whom I had grown quite close to, still refused to call me by my first name.
“What do I even need protecting from?” I asked Aenan.
“There are beasts that roam the woods and creatures that sail the skies looking for pretty lasses just like yourself to steal away in the night,” he joked, before his smile fell away.
“Seriously, though, I have mentioned before that there are things of which you do not know. Things that give me cause for concern over your welfare.”
I took the seat opposite him. “What kind of things? Surely I should be aware of any potential threats to look out for.”
He considered my question. The look on his face had me believing he was thinking on the repercussions of revealing the information to me. He must have come to a decision, for he leant back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him, and regarded me astutely. “I told you our mother was killed.”
I nodded, slightly unnerved as to where this was going.
“What I didn’t tell you was how she was killed.”
My scalp prickled, a strange numbness flowing down the back of my neck. “How?” I whispered.
“She was murdered by the Dark Fae.”
Dark Fae…
A shudder ran through me at his words. At the way he said them.
Images of vicious, evil creatures ran through my mind.
I had already seen – run for my life from – a cullach, the fae version of a wild pig.
And the stinging moths… They were not ordinary, or harmless.
I could only imagine what a dark version of a fae would be like.
“Who or what are the Dark Fae?”
Aenan opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it again. Finally, he said, “I’ll tell you the story as it has been told to me.”
I nodded, encouraging him to continue.
“Many moons ago, Beathás – the God of Life and Death – and Aithghen – the Goddess of Inspiration, Transformation, Change, and Rebirth – created the Fae Realm of Caeldonia. The original Caeldonian fae were renowned for their ethereal beauty and unmatched grace, beloved by their gods. They were so treasured that the gods bestowed gifts upon them. Gifts that granted them abilities surpassing typical fae powers. Gifts akin to those of gods. These gifts, passed down through generations, meant, for a time, that the fae thrived in peace and harmony, flourishing within their lands.”
He paused to take a breath, and I watched him quietly.
“However, as often happens when great power is granted, there are those who hunger for more. One day, there came a Pictlandian king – Trefyn – who found a way to manipulate his powers by drawing on dark magicks. He called forth a deamhan, imprisoning him and stealing his essence. Consumed by the evil within him and his quest for more power, he waged a great war, and many innocents were killed. Not only the Pictlandians, but other fae across the realm.”
“What happened next?” I asked, absorbed in his story.
“The gods, enraged by Trefyn’s actions, cursed him and all those like him.
They withdrew their divine favour of the royal lines, not only in Pictlandia but across all the kingdoms in Caeldonia.
They decreed that while the fae lived in the brilliance of light, exuding kindness, compassion, and benevolence and embracing all that was good, just like their ancestors, they would be spared the curse.
But, if they turned to the darkness, consumed by malevolence and dread, embodying evil, they would be condemned to live that way forever more.
Their once luminous souls would contort into forms of darkness and their thoughts would be corrupted with malicious intent. They became known as the Dark Fae.”
I stared at him in silence, shocked that the gods would do such a thing. That they would curse a race that they had adored.
“They killed our mother?” I whispered. “The Dark Fae?”
“Yes,” Aenan said. “They did.”
“But why? Why her?” My heart ached. I couldn’t comprehend how such a cruel and senseless act could have befallen our mother, when everything Aenan had told me painted her as such a beautiful soul. “Did they simply choose her at random?”
“No,” he said quietly. “Our mother was Pictlandian, and when the Dark Fae swept through her lands, she escaped to Assyntian, which is where she met our father. He once told me she had a wild, untamed beauty, with deep blue eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the world. Her laughter was like music, and her touch was like silk. But she also had a fierce strength, a spirit that drew our father to her. He loved her more than anything in this realm.”
Including me.
My heart broke, but Aenan continued. “Our mother, however, also had a brother. Not one of blood, but an orphan the family took in and raised alongside her.”
“Like Caelan,” I said, and he nodded.
“Vaeyl.” He spat the name as if it disgusted him. “He was jealous of our mother. Of the kind and loving female she was. Of the gift she had. He coveted that gift, as well as our mother herself, so I have been told.”
I looked at him in horror. “I don’t understand – is he dead now?”
Aenan’s face screwed up in disgust. “He might as well be,” he said, shaking his head.
“No. He is a Dark Fae. The darkness consumed him, twisted his mind, and turned his heart to ice. He lost all his goodness, if he had any to begin with. It was he who killed our mother, Rowan. He was the one who took her life without a second thought. She was a mere pawn in his own selfish and malicious game. And yet, he still has the audacity to call himself our uncle!”
I gasped at the venom in his voice.
“You must understand, little sister – there is no goodness in the Dark Fae. They thrive on pain and suffering. Their very nature is corrupted by the darkness that consumes them. They like to play with others, to try to break them in order to turn them to their side, and they will use any means necessary to achieve that goal. But our mother was strong. She saw through their lies and resisted their temptations. And for that, she paid the ultimate price. She was killed, her life stolen from her by someone she considered family.”
Tears welled in my eyes as he finished. Not from fear. Nor from sadness. But from anger.
I was angry. At our uncle for choosing the dark and for killing our mother. At King Trefyn for being so greedy.
And, I admit, right at the source of it, I was angry at the gods for cursing the fae.
Gripping the edge of the desk, I fixed my gaze on my brother. “This curse. Can it be broken?”
Something flicked across his face, there and gone before I could catch it. He shook his head, ever so slightly, as if trying to shake free a thought. “There may be a way,” he said. Quietly. Pensively.
I raised an eyebrow, but a knock sounded on the door, stealing his attention.
He gave me a small smile. “Another time, perhaps.”