Chapter Sixteen

Muirgen woke, bleary eyed and blinking to the sun. She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept, but it certainly hadn’t been long though that she felt rested. A dress had been laid out for her on a chair, a steaming bowl of hot water and a towel waiting for her on a table. She washed her face, then sat down at a mirror, examining herself. Her wavy hair had been tamed into a single side braid, but sleep had left it worse for wear, the edges fuzzing outward. Deep circles lined her eyes and she pressed on them slightly, feeling the sunken skin. They had been too long on the road with few to little comforts. Her heart sank. Artair and Evan. Dead. She bit her tongue, raising her eyes back to the mirror. She had known going into it what might happen. She undid the clasp on her braid and ran her fingers through it to ease the waves from their tight spiral. She pinched at her cheeks, trying to convince them to bring more life back into her face, but stubbornly she remained pale. The dress laying out for her was a dusty gray silk with teal silk accents. As soon as she put her arms in to the dress, the invisible hands started lacing her back. Two shoes slid out from underneath the chair and she stepped into them. A beautiful crown of gold starbursts floated toward her, but she shook her head. “I don’t need that.” Stubbornly, the hands placed it upon her head, placing it back on when she put it down on the chair. Finally she shook her head, giving in. The door opened and she left the room, peering down the hall at the rest of the doors. But there was no one else about.

She hurried down the hall and down the stairs until she found the dining hall. As promised, Fynais was waiting at the table, staring out the window at his land. When she entered the room he stood, bowing his head, “Thank you for joining me…” He paused, eyes going to her head. He rushed at her and she squeaked in fear as he ripped the crown from her head, a few strands of her hair going with it. “Who gave her the crown?” he asked, his voice booming through the nearly empty room. He thrust the crown into the air, “Put it away.” The crown was whisked away quickly, the door shutting behind her. Fynais sighed, settling down into his chair once more. He gestured to the seat beside him, “Please have a seat.”

Muirgen took the seat three from him, wishing she still had her dagger. He had steepled his hands, then spread them, “You must have questions. Feel free to ask them.”

The door opened and food gradually filled the center of the table. Fynais delicately reached for each item he wanted, spooning some onto his plate before returning them. With surprise he nodded at the food, “Please, enjoy.”

Muirgen shook her head, “I know what happens to mortals who eat your food.”

He made a face, “For goodness…It’s food from your realm. I would not offer you the fruit of my realm.” He frowned, “Do you truly not know who I am?”

She examined the bowl of fruit before her. It looked innocent enough. Strawberries, blueberries, raspberries. Boiled potatoes in another dish. Bacon sizzling in another. Her mouth watered and she began spooning the food onto her plate, anxiously digging it. It. Was. So. Good. As the pangs in her stomach lessened, she looked up to see Fynais watching her. For a moment she stared at him in return until she remembered that he had asked her a question. She wiped her mouth with her napkin, then shook her head, “No, I do not know who you are.”

He rubbed his face in irritation, “You are Queen Muirgen, of the British Isles, are you not?”

She nodded warily and he pushed back his chair, “Come.” Muirgen looked from him to the food on her plate. She shoved three more bites into her mouth before he repeated, “Come. I’ll have them bring you some food.” She followed him, glancing behind her to watch her plate filling up with food again. He led her through the castle, finally stopping at a wooden door with decorative nails. He placed his hand on the door. It took a moment, but finally the hinges creaked and the door swung open. Fynais wiped his hand on his pants and stepped back.

“No one has been in this part of the castle in…years,” he half whispered, staring down the dusty hallway before them. Then he turned toward Muirgen. “Everything about the Sealing of the Tuatha is in this part of the castle.” He took a step backwards, “I would show you but…I can’t go in.” He frowned, “The Merlin warded it long ago.” Her plate floated toward her, settling into her hands.

Muirgen peered down the creepy hallway, “You want me to go in there alone?”

He shrugged, lowering his eyes. “I...I had thought your ancestors would have told you the very basics. It's easier if you...we'll I'm not very good at explaining.” He stuck his hand through the door way, then immediately pulled it back out again, the tips of his fingers charred black. “I can’t go in there. None of my people can. You'll be safe.” She stared at his fingertips as they slowly healed, the blackened skin falling like dust onto the floor. Finally she nodded, stepping through the threshold. She had wanted answers, and here it seemed she would find them.

“Call me if you need me,” he said before turning on his heel. The door creaked shut as he walked away, closing her into the dusty gloom of the hallway. She walked down the hallway, a single door waiting for her at the end of the hallway.

As she walked forward the door opened and she slipped through to find a throne room. Stain glass windows arched before her in a semi-circle, casting colored light on the golden throne before her. Well, perhaps used to be gold. The room was in shambles. The stained glass was so dirty the colored light was muted, dust coated every part of the room. She blew on the edge of one of the many rows of pews, settling down and putting her feet up against the back of the one before her. She dug into her food, desperate to finish it before she did any more exploring. She would not allow the dust to contaminate her food. When she was finished she set the plate down, regretfully wiping her fingers on the dress. In a wooden box leaned up against a wall she found a table cloth, and slowly she approached the throne, wiping it down to reveal a gorgeous pattern of leaves and flowers. She examined it with interest. It must have been cast as one piece, because it didn’t seem to have any seams. Her eyebrows rose in wonder. The project must have taken several skilled workers ages to construct the archetype, create a mold, and then carefully pour the gold in. She moved to the stain glass windows, wiping slowly at one of the panels to reveal a King, a golden crown upon his head, the sun shining on his face, a cloak of leaves around his shoulders.

She raised a finger to the cloak. The Green Man. Frowning, she lowered her finger. Was it possible the Tuatha had worshiped him too? A door in the alcove groaned open, candles flickering to life inside. She peered in, fascinated. A library more vast than any she had ever seen lay beyond. Bookshelves reached from floor to ceiling, a ladder thrice her height needed to reach the very top. And beyond was an alcove settled above the books with a few cushioned reading seats. The invisible hands guided her onward, pushing her toward the ladder that led to the raised reading area. When she pulled herself up the hands guided her to a very dusty chair. In one deep gust of wind the fabric was cleared of most of its dust and the hands pushed her down. Two books floated toward her, plopping into her lap. 

Muirgen picked up the first one, turning the plain green leather cover over. It didn’t have any markings. Nothing to show what the book was about. Neither did the second. Both were old though and had not been handled much.  She opened the book. There were no grand illuminations or finely, exactly printed letters. It was scrawled, and in such a hand that she had a difficult time reading it.

“The tension between our people grows worse. It kills me to see our people digress into such violence and hate. For years we played our mischief and games, ever wondering how the mortals could abide such violent feelings in their fragile breasts. The Merlin urges me to do something about it. To act, but how can I? There are too few who side with me. Most have chosen to follow Gwenhwyfar and I can no longer abide her sight. There are two choices. Join in the slaughter of the humans, or preserve our way of life in those who remain. Exiling all others. It is a choice I should not have to make, but the choice falls to me. Rarely are we given trials we cannot handle, but this. This is an impossible choice that I must make.”

She turned the page, captured by the crude sketch of a woman, a crown upon her head. 

“The Merlin convinced me to meet with the human Queen. She was fair and kind, suffering much as I am. Much as rulers always do. For hours we sat together, those loyal to me guarding me, those loyal to her guarding her. And together we devised a plan that will doom my soul surely.”

The next page had a sketch of her piece and she sat up, peering closer at the page.

“Deep into the night I instructed the human smiths, the Merlin and I both pouring bits of our magic into the gold as it poured and solidified. When the pieces cooled we signed the treaty in our blood, promising the eternal sleep of the fairies in exchange for a Queen. To begin the line again, to rebuild the Tuatha. Beginning again with love and kindness in our hearts.”

The hairs raised on Muirgen’s arms, but she flipped to the next page, and illustration of her castle, her lake jumping from the page in anguished strokes. 

“It is done. The two pieces separated. My people locked beneath the edges of this world. Gwenhwyfar escaped, pulling a few of her most loyal with her, but I am too tired to hunt her now. Too much of my power has been spent holding them off from interrupting what had to be done. In the end, the Merlin sacrificed himself, throwing his body in front of mine to take the hit meant for me. Though I carried him back to the Misted Isle I watched him die. And yet, moments later, he was reborn. Unsure of who he was. I helped him as best I could, but the curse placed on him is powerful, and I fear that it will not likely be lifted until Gwyneffyr chooses to lift it herself. 

The human world will pass quickly, and when the time is right, the Queen’s descendant will come and we will rebuild this world together. Our children the seeds of peace between human and fairy.”

Muirgen slammed the book shut, closing her eyes. The bargain. The Bard…Merlin had mentioned it.  She rubbed her temples, more than ever angry at how powerless she was. The council wanting her to marry the North king. The fairy who saved her obviously thought she was meant to marry his king.