Wyrd: Book One of the Witch War Trilogy - WATTYS 2018 WINNER!

Chapter 26: Where Sky Returns to the Fae Kingdom of Tara

"—A few things I need to tell you," Sky had been saying when Rowan pre-empted the team prep-talk by walking into the beam of light. There were more than a few things, if Sky was honest, that everyone needed to know about the Fae. Like how you should never agree to attend one of their parties, how you shouldn't eat their food or drink their libations, that their gender was fluid so you had to stay clear of pronouns until you knew which, if any, they preferred, that their bodies were able to change form over time, and of course, you never ever wanted to offend them. Or make a binding deal with them. But mostly, that the leader of these Fae might just have a little bit of a hatchet to bury with Sky ... hopefully not in her back.

But it was too late because half the party was already on the other side, somewhere near Fae territory. So Sky followed, stepping through with Joel taking up the rear.

When she emerged, Sky was face to face with her old friend.

How it was even possible, how they'd known that the Aary party was coming, Sky wasn't sure. Spies then, even in the rebel camp? More likely spies from above. Of the Godly variety. Only one God dealt with the Fae. And only one God knew where she was going before she even got there. Father Time. And though Sky wanted to contemplate where his interests lay and just why he was concerning himself with her activities, she had more urgent matters to handle. One was staring right at her.

A face, familiar to Sky, glowered at her from a foot away. A face she had known well once, cared for once, but whose features had changed. Their hair was still silver, ears still pointed, but the jawline had sharpened, the lips grown fuller. Once the features had been more manly, where now the combination was more androgynous, a stunning mix of the delicate feminine and strong masculine. Then again, the Fae were mercurial. Always changing, always fluid. The statuesque figure wore braids in their hair and a turquoise flowing robe. Still, the resemblance was enough. Those eyes. Green, with a golden sun rimming the pupil. They could belong to only one Fae.

Finvarra.

The High Fae, Finvarra was standing in a clearing, in a shaded forest everglade that was lit from the warm glow of fireflies flitting through the branches of the tall ivy-covered trees, dancing golden orbs of twinkling light in the gloaming. Standing stones stood at intervals in a circle surrounding them, marking this space and the arrival of Sky and the Aarys as a significant event. Wild roses roamed at the base of each standing stone. In front of them, the guardians, the fae solidiers, stood in formation around their ruler, hands at their swords. All types of Fae -- some Sidhe, almost human looking with pointed ears, some Seelie, regular height but with skin like bark or leaves or fur or wings like butterflies, chameleon-like with features they mimicked from the natural or animal world, and some pixies, small winged-creatures or stalky gnome-like ones that were miniature in size -- watched curiously, a million peeping eyes, hiding behind stones or peeking from behind trees and through bushes in the forest. Fixated on this very encounter, there was an audience imbued with listless excitement watching Sky's ragtag group.

Finvarra silenced the chittering in the forest by raising their hands in the air and bringing them down to their sides, playing with the drama of the moment to demand the undivided attention of a rather flighty group.

"Greetings Goddess. A visit? So soon?" The voice, like tinkling angry bells, was laced with sarcasm as if Sky were a spurned lover waiting to be punished. Time passed differently in the Elven realm, but even so, Sky had stayed away for more than three centuries. And the leader of the Fae was not pleased. If once they had been friends, now Sky needed to tread carefully. Very, very carefully. It had been a slight, neglecting Finvarra. And from the steel in Finvarra's eyes, now was not the time to ask for favours. At least not until their mood changed.