Authors: E. D. Baker
Tamisin didn’t like that he was making her feel like a little girl. “I thought you brought me here because you wanted to meet your daughter. If I were meeting my daughter for the first time, I wouldn’t start by yelling at her.”
Oberon’s eyes darkened even more, as did the air in the glade itself. Tamisin wondered if he was about to use some
awful magic on her, and even considered apologizing, but suddenly she realized that she didn’t care how he felt. She wasn’t going to apologize to anyone! He was in the wrong, not her. She was a fairy, too, and could do things she couldn’t have even imagined a year ago. If he thought for one minute that he could treat her that way, he had a lot to learn about being a father! Not that she believed he
was
her father. Although no one could deny that she looked like the fairy queen, Tamisin didn’t see herself in Oberon at all. And she
had
to be half human. She hadn’t even had wings until recently, and hers folded away and were bigger and stronger than those of any full-blooded fairies she’d seen. She couldn’t make herself small, either, which seemed to be something that every other fairy could do.
It was so quiet that the entire forest seemed to be holding its breath. The silence continued to grow until suddenly the fairy king chuckled and a breeze wafted through the glade as if even the trees had exhaled. “I like you, child,” said Oberon. “You have your mother’s fire. I can see why she would want to keep you to herself. So be it. If you truly wish to return to your human home, my fairies will take you back in the morning. In the meantime, they will see that you have the rest and refreshment that you need.”
When Oberon looked away and began to talk to the human-sized fairies beside him, Tamisin realized that she was dismissed. She glanced around, wondering where she should go; the sea of faces looking back at her seemed unfriendly, and some even returned her gaze with open dislike.
And then a young man came forward and bowed. Although most fairies appeared ageless, this boy seemed to be about as old as Tamisin. Like everyone there, he had perfect features. Long lashes framed his dark blue eyes, and high cheekbones shaped his narrow face, but he didn’t seem as fragile as the rest of the fairies. His body was sturdier, his skin was the same shade of blue as the sky, and his hair was the deep blue of the sea.
“I’d be happy to show you around,” he said. “My name is Dasras. We’re excited that you’re here.”
Tamisin thought
he
might be excited, but wondered if that was really true of the others. They seemed more concerned with what Oberon was doing now. The few fairies that glanced at her looked curious but nothing more.
“Can I get you something to eat or drink?” he asked. “We’re usually so busy that we don’t have formal meals and just eat when we’re hungry.”
“It has been a while since I ate last,” she admitted.
“Then follow me!” he said, and gestured toward a path with a flourish.
She walked with Dasras through the trees to where a spider-silk cloth covered a large, flat rock. Nymphs with long green hair stood on the other side of the rock, pouring a clear pink liquid into cups made from tulip blossoms. As Tamisin and Dasras joined the line of bigger fairies, she accepted a cup from a nymph. “Thank you,” Tamisin told her.
Dasras glanced at her in surprise. Tamisin noticed that he didn’t say anything when he took the cup from
the nymph, nor did any of the other fairies standing in line. Apparently thanking people wasn’t normally done at Oberon’s court.
A human-looking woman with long, straight brown hair that hung down on either side of her plump-cheeked face was setting a platter of fresh fruit on the rock when she grinned at Tamisin and said, “Be careful. That berry wine will go straight to your head if you’re not used to it.”
The blue boy frowned at her, saying, “She’ll be fine, Irinia.”
Ducking her head, the woman turned away. Dasras was helping himself to small brown wafers when Tamisin glanced at Irinia. To her surprise, the woman had an identical face on the back of her head. After scowling at the boy, Irinia glanced at Tamisin and winked even as her other face began to talk to one of the nymphs.
Tamisin looked away when Dasras nudged her and said, “Let’s go. I know a spot where we can eat in peace.”
If this is all fairies eat, no wonder they’re so slender
, she thought, choosing a ripe plum and a shiny red apple from the platter before following Dasras.
A small flock of goldfinches followed them from tree to tree as they made their way through the forest. Tamisin was listening to their song when she noticed a dull, rhythmic roar that she couldn’t quite place. When she and the blue boy entered a clearing at the edge of a rocky outcrop, the sun was low enough in the sky that its light cast long shadows behind them.
“We’ll sit up here,” Dasras said, and hopped onto the rocks. He was so agile that he reached the top long before Tamisin, who climbed slowly so she wouldn’t spill her berry wine. She was working her way from one boulder to another when she realized that the roar was growing louder. Curious, she continued on until she could see over the top of the rocks and stood, stunned, looking out over the vast ocean that lay before her.
Tamisin had never visited an ocean before, and had never smelled the salt air or felt the moist breeze on her face or tasted salt on her lips. She had never seen gulls swooping over the water, skimming the surface as they caught their dinner, or porpoises leaping just beyond the breaking waves.
“Come sit by me,” said Dasras, patting the sun-warmed rock beside him.
She climbed across, eager to sit down and drink in the glorious view. The spot Dasras had chosen was at the highest point of an uneven jumble of boulders that fell away to embrace a small cove and the white-sand beach that shaped it. When she looked up, Tamisin could see the sun setting behind the horizon and the endless cycle of waves.
A sense of being at peace came over her, and she realized that for the first time in months, the nagging, almost painful prickling of the thwarted compulsion was gone. She was in the land of the fey; the compulsion was satisfied.
“They say that King Neptune tossed these rocks here to protect his daughters when they came to play on the
beach,” said Dasras. “I come here often to watch the waves and think. Most fairies don’t like the ocean, though. They say the salt water hurts their wings, but I think they just don’t like the mermaids.”
“Can we go down to the beach?” Tamisin asked, suddenly excited to be there.
Dasras laughed. “I wouldn’t advise it. That beach belongs to the mermaids, and the rumors about them are true; they aren’t always friendly to strangers.”
Tamisin took a sip of her wine and coughed. It was stronger than she’d expected but had a nice fruity taste. “I thought mermaids were usually friendly,” she said, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“None that I’ve ever met,” Dasras said, making a sour face. “So, tell me about yourself. What was your life like before you came here to live?”
“I’m not staying, you know,” said Tamisin. “I need to go home. No one knows where I’ve gone, and they’re bound to be worried about me. Jak’s the only one who’d be able to find out and—”
“Don’t tell me about
them
! I want to know everything there is to know about
you
.” He gazed at her so attentively that she couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable.
“There isn’t much to tell,” Tamisin replied. “I learned that Titania was my mother just last year. My friend Jak helped me find her.” Juice dribbled down her chin when she took a bite of the plum and the sweet taste exploded on her tongue.
“Jak again!” Dasras said, sounding exasperated. “You
might as well tell me about this Jak. He seems to be important to you.”
Tamisin nodded as she swallowed. “He was my best friend, although I guess you could say he was more than that.”
Or at least he was until I turned my back on him
, she added silently. When she thought about it like that, she couldn’t understand why she’d done it. “I miss him,” she said, and sighed.
Dasras gave her a sharp look, then smiled brightly and reached down to pat her hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll like living here. And I’m sure you’ll make plenty of friends.”
“I’m not going to live here!” Tamisin cried. “As soon as the sun comes up, I’m going home. Oberon had no right to have Mountain Ash shrink me and stuff me into a bag!”
Dasras’s smile faded. “Oberon had him shrink you because it was the safest way to bring you here. And he has every right to see you. He is your father, after all, and Titania should never have lied about you. But then, that’s what she does—says one thing when it suits her, then changes her story when the first lie becomes inconvenient.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Tamisin.
Dasras shrugged and his expression grew grim. “My mother was one of Titania’s handmaidens. She died shortly after giving birth to me, but before she died, she asked Titania to raise me as her own. I was only a year old when Oberon found out about me. He wanted me to live at his court, but Titania refused to give me up. They argued for years over who should keep me, and then one day Titania decided that she wanted to make up with him, even if it
meant sacrificing me. They’ve lived apart for as long as I’ve known them, but I don’t think they ever stopped loving each other.”
Tamisin drained the last of the wine from her tulip cup, then said, “And she gave you to him, just like that?”
“She had always told me that I wouldn’t be happy living with Oberon, but when it suited her, she changed her story and said that I’d probably enjoy it. She sent me here the very next day, and I’ve never heard from her since.”
“I’m sorry,” Tamisin told him. “I have to ask, though.
Are
you happy here?”
Dasras hesitated as if he’d never really thought about it. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
“Then maybe something had changed,” said Tamisin. “Or you were old enough that she thought you would be all right here. She told me that she sent me away when I was a baby partly because she didn’t want to continue fighting with Oberon. I really do believe she sent us away for the sake of the kingdom, not because she didn’t want us. I think she probably loved us both in her own way.”
Dasras snorted. “Maybe, but she loves the kingdom more.”
A bone-jarring shriek split the air as a dark shadow rippled across the water. Tamisin looked up, but all she could see was a shape blocking part of the setting sun.
“We’d better go,” said Dasras, getting to his feet. “The griffins are hunting their dinner early tonight. I’ll show you to your bed if you’d like. It’s going to be dark soon anyway.”
“Do griffins hunt fairies?” Tamisin asked, and glanced down at the apple core and plum pit. She didn’t remember finishing them off.
Dasras frowned at the remains of the fruit she held in her hand. “You must be hungry after your ordeal. Most fairies don’t eat much. And to answer your question, no, they don’t usually hunt fairies, but then, fairies don’t usually give them the chance.”
After Dasras pointed out the place where Tamisin was to sleep, he showed her to a nearby waterfall where she could bathe and then left. When she emerged from the waterfall, a fairy dressed in cobwebs gave her a pale green shift made of woven willow leaves and took away the nightgown Tamisin had been wearing since leaving home.
Tamisin was yawning when she got to her bed and was dismayed to see that it was made of twigs and dangled like a hammock from the branches of an oak tree. She was sure she’d never be able to get any rest, but when she lay down, the moss mattress was so comfortable and the downy cover so soft that she was soon drifting off. A short time later, a light breeze blew in from the ocean, rocking the bed from side to side, lulling her into a deeper sleep.
Fairy directions aren’t like the kind humans give to each other. Most fairies can’t read, so street signs don’t mean anything to them.
“Go to the big black path, then go straight until you smell marigolds,” Pansy had told Jak. “Turn left at the picture of the black-and-white cow. Go straight until you reach a meadow that a giant could cross in ten strides. Cross the path and go inside the big white cottage. Look for the gargoyle. He’ll show you the way to the gate.”