Chapter 49
Aoife
Iaccepted a bowl of soup, the smell of roasted mushrooms, turnips, and thyme tickling my nose.
It was a simple soup. One made from the only ingredients we could forage when we were enslaved, and it was the most delicious thing I’d tasted in a long time.
It tasted like us. Like the Fair Folk. Simple but rich and layered.
Lor was speaking in hushed tones to Harriet, the captain of our guard, both of them
standing apart from the fire, probably speaking about the brotherhood, going over the latest reports from the scouts about their location.
“You did it, lovely,” a voice said from my side. “You brought back Fairtine.”
I looked over to see Ambrose smiling at me, the warmth of the fire lighting his blue hair.
“Ambrose.” I’d been so focused on my husband these last few weeks, I’d barely seen my friend. My former lover.
I’d kept this door between us open for so long, but it was time to close it.
He held up his hand. “It’s okay. I know.”
“You know what?”
He tipped his head toward Lor, who eyed us as Harriet talked to him. “Something has
changed between you and your husband.”
“Yes,” I said. “But I still hope we can be friends.”
“Always, lovely.” He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to it, then stood. “Now I’m going
to get drunk.”
He strode away to another fire right as Lor dropped down next to me, accepting a bowl of soup from a faerie with long white hair flowing down her back, wrinkles crinkling her skin.
She was an elder, the oldest among us, and her life was waning.
“I’m so glad I could live to see another Fairtine,” she said, golden eyes twinkling.
“You know, I do love the mortal ways. I’ve enjoyed the past two years since our communities have come together, but in the last month, I’ve suddenly started remembering many things about our culture that I’d forgotten. ”
“That’s because your queen has been making an effort to bring the Fair Folk culture back,” Lor said. “She inspired this entire festival.”
Lor’s words filled my heart, and it felt so impossibly big that I thought it might burst.
The faerie turned her gaze on me, and she patted my hand with her wrinkled one, her skin papery thin.
“Thank you for bringing the good things back to us. I try so hard to forget all the horrible memories, all the terrible things that were done to us, that I somehow just forgot it all. But there was good in those days, too, wasn’t there? ”
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “There was good.”
She gave another nod and hobbled to the other side of the fire, serving others who sat with their bowls, waiting for their turn.
People milled about, going from fire to fire, and Lor turned, looking at something in the distance.
“When I was meeting with all the Fair Folk, I was told that each fire represented something different. Some fires were for conversation. Some were for singing. Some for dancing. Some for eating.” He tipped his head toward the fire next to ours, where everyone was passing a jug of wine around. “Some for drinking.”
“And which fire do you want to visit next?” I asked.
“Dancing,” he said simply. “I want a proper dance with my wife.”
I lifted my bowl and took one last sip, then stood. “Well let’s not waste any time.”
I grabbed his hand and we wove through the festival and toward a fire that roared in front of the bakery.
A group of Fair Folk sat with instruments: a pot turned upside down for drumming and a lute made from wood.
Around the fire, everyone danced, kicking up their feet, the Fair Folk teaching the mortals the simple movements.
Lor and I approached, everyone with joined hands as they welcomed us.
We moved around the circle and kicked out our feet, whooping and laughing, Lor included.
He looked lighter in the moment, less worry lines crinkling the corners of his eyes and more laughter lines.
The firelight glowed against his pale skin, highlighting his brown hair that was tied in a loose knot at the nape of his neck. Tendrils escaped and framed his jaw.
He met my gaze, smile widening, and then the music was slowing, everyone breaking apart. The man next to us grabbed his daughter and danced with her as she giggled. An elderly woman danced with her son.
Lor held his hand out. “May I?”
I rolled my eyes and placed my hand in his, letting him tug me close as we swayed. “So that’s what else you’ve been doing this last week?” I looked away, suddenly feeling shy. “That’s why I haven’t seen you?”
“I wanted it to be perfect, so I’ve been working day and night to pull this off, to give everyone the best Fairtine I could before the brotherhood gets here. I’m sorry if I worried you, but I wanted it all to be a surprise.”
“I thought maybe . . .” I stopped myself, wondering why I felt the need to admit this, why it was weighing on me.
“You thought I was upset that you didn’t say you loved me back?” he asked, his voice even, no trace of anger or sadness in it.
“Yes,” I said as he twirled me around, the firelight dancing and stretching across the ground.
His gaze softened. “Of course I’m not angry. I don’t regret what I said because I meant it. It’s okay if you’re not there.”
As usual, Lor was showing how good he was. The best, really.
“I wanted to tell you something else,” Lor said, and my stomach clenched at what else he could possibly have to say, to do, after all of this.
“I’ve spoken with Morton and a few of our local historians.
They’re going to start recording the Fair Folk history, interviewing Fair Folk of all ages and backgrounds.
We’re going to establish a Fair Folk library and museum, and Morton is going to head it. ”
My head swam with the information. This was everything I’d wanted for myself, for my people. And Lor was doing it all. He was giving me everything I’d ever desired. My eyes filled with tears, my hands growing clammy, my heart thumping.
I broke off our dance and backed away from Lor, who looked at me with concern. “This is too much,” I said. “I can’t—”
“Oh no,” someone muttered from nearby. “They’re about to have another fight.”
“Well there goes my ten gold coins,” someone else said, handing the coins to the person next to them.
Lor shot them a look that could kill, and they immediately cowered.
He took a step forward, holding out a hand like I was a wild horse that would bolt at any moment. “Aoife,” he said. “Talk to me.”
I shook my head, the tears spilling down my cheeks, my vision blurring. Without another word, I turned and ran.