The Faeries' Harp

17: The Fae Folk

“That didn’t go according to plan,” Seamus remarks a few seconds after Saoirse and Bergljot have disappeared into the forest in pursuit of Rhys.

“You don’t say,” Alastair retorts sarcastically. “I suppose we have to go after them.”

“It would be irresponsible not to,” Kyrie points out. “They’ve lived their whole lives as mortals. Someone needs to clue them in on how to function as faeries.”

“Can we wait for Elowen and Myghal to get back, at least?” Aeowyn whines. “I’m tired. We’ve been tailing them all day.”

“Normally you’re upset because mortal portal patrol is so boring,” Alastair points out. “Now you’re upset because we actually have something to do.”

“I’d just rather be at the Queen’s palace, is all. Patrols like this are so beneath the Queen’s Flower Guard.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Seamus argues gently, somewhat surprised. “Only the ones Her Majesty trusts the most should be permitted to execute this duty.”

“And we’re failing right now,” Kyrie urges. “We have to go after Saoirse and Rhys. If they’re bent on going back to the mortal realm, time is of the essence. We have to stop them.” She starts flying along the trail the charging unicorn created, and her comrades follow her.

“D’you really think they’re foolish enough to try that?” Alastair questions.

“I think the lad is desperate enough to try. He seems quite devoted to that human mother figure of his. It’s rather sweet.”

“His desperation makes sense enough, but why would she follow him? He said they’ve only known each other a day.”

“She seems a caring sort. She doesn’t abide unnecessary suffering. That much has been clear, both from watching them and from interacting with her. Likely she thinks there’s something she can do to help him see his mother again.”

“And you’re not one to talk about how little time they’ve known each other,” Aeowyn adds scathingly. “Set your cap for her already, haven’t you? You’d like nothing more than for her to be your next conquest.”

“If she’s truly fae, I’ve yet to see any fairer,” Alastair grudgingly admits.

“She’s truly fae, but I’d argue Kyrie the fairest of them all,” Seamus interjects, sharing an enamored smile with Kyrie. Tears prick Aeowyn’s eyes and she turns away, flying faster after Saoirse and Rhys. She can’t stand it when Kyrie is affectionate with anyone except her.

“Stop it, Seamus,” Kyrie giggles, glancing meaningfully after Aeowyn, whom she considers to be her best friend. While Aeowyn has sworn up and down that nothing matters to her more than Kyrie’s happiness, it’s clear to Kyrie that her friend hates to see her being affectionate with Seamus.

“There you are,” Myghal’s voice pants behind them. A moment later, Myghal and Elowen are flying alongside them, and they’ve all caught up with Aeowyn. “Two trips to and from the Queen’s palace at that pace is a lot for one day, you know.”

“Aye, and we’re grateful for it, as we couldn’t have done it even half as quickly,” Seamus replies. “What word from the Queen?”

“The Queen wants to see the two newcomers,” Elowen answers. “Where are they?”

“Up ahead. They haven’t taken the news of their transformation well,” Alastair replies.

“Well, we must catch them immediately. The Queen has expressly ordered that they are not to be left unsupervised,” Myghal urges. “They could get into all kinds of trouble, not knowing what it is to be fae.”

The group flies faster, still following the path Bergljot created through the trees. Occasionally they hear Saoirse’s and Rhys’s voices up ahead, but they don’t want to be seen or heard until they’re in position to corral their new charges.

“Why does Her Majesty want to see them, exactly?” Aeowyn inquires.

“Records indicate it’s very likely these two, based on their apparent ages and so on, are the lost children of the Chrysanthemum Duchy and the Wisteria Duchy, respectively,” Elowen explains. “The infant son of the Wisteria Duchy was kidnapped and suspected to be exchanged for a human infant, what would have been about twenty human years ago. And the Chrysanthemum Duchy had a difficult infant daughter, about eighteen human years ago, and sent her to the human realm of their own accord. Since fae in the human realm age according to human time, even with the usual charms and spells, these two seem a match, though they’ll have to come to court for interviews and testing and such to be sure.”

“Maybe all that’s what Rhys needs to know, to give up on his aim of contacting his human mother figure,” Seamus surmises.

“We have to be quick. They’ve likely reached the portal by now,” Kyrie worries.

“We’re not that far behind, and they cannot possibly be stupid enough to go through undisguised, and neither of them has any idea how to disguise them,” Alastair grumbles.

Just then, they come into the clearing where the portal is located, while at the same moment, Rhys, who once again appears human, is vanishing into the swirling mist at the center of the portal. The arrival of the Flower Guard seems to startle Saoirse and Bergljot, though the latter immediately takes up a defensive stance between the fae and the portal, as if to say that if they wish to pursue Rhys, they’ll have to go through her. None of them particularly wants to fight with the unicorn.

“Oh, no” Aeowyn groans. “We’re going to be in so much trouble.”

“Why?” Saoirse inquires, seeming genuinely curious.

“We’re meant to be taking the three of you to see Her Majesty the Faerie Queen,” Seamus explains, “which will be a mite bit difficult if he’s gallivanted back to the mortal realm.”

“He won’t be long. He just wants to say goodbye to his mother, and see that she’s taken care of.”

“He appeared human again. How did you manage that?” Kyrie demands. “Neither of you have any training in such things.”

“I…the words, and what to do…just came to me.”

“She’s Lilac Order,” Elowen exclaims. “She has to be—”

“Lilac Order? What does that mean?”

“Not all fae folk have the same relationship with magic,” Alastair explains. “Lilac Order means it comes very naturally, without much study.”

“The voices in the trees….”

“You’re extremely perceptive. Also a sign of Lilac Order.”

“You’re sure he won’t be long?” Myghal presses. “How will he see that his human mother is cared for?”

“I brought human money with me. I wasn’t expecting to wind up here, and packed to make a new life for myself elsewhere in the mortal realm. I gave him the money,” Saoirse answers. “I think his plan is to give her the money, say goodbye, and leave. Depending how close their cottage is to this portal, it shouldn’t take much time at all.”

“We can make a scrying pool, to be sure,” Aeowyn suggests.

“The four of you will collect him as soon as he returns and start bringing the three of them to the Queen’s Palace,” Elowen orders. “Something about this isn’t sitting right. Myghal and I will go seek further direction.”

“We literally just rejoined our unit,” Myghal complains. “You’re asking for a third sprint in one day—”

“Nothing I’m not demanding of myself, also. Let’s go.” The two pixies take off as fast as their tiny wings can carry them. Pixies are the fastest flyers of the fae beings, and therefore frequently serve as heralds and messengers.

“Aeowyn. You said something about a scrying pool?” Saoirse asks hesitantly.

“Yes. It would let us keep an eye on your friend from afar. We just need something of his, as the focus,” Aeowyn replies. Saoirse is relieved that Aeowyn seems to be speaking to her normally now. Bergljot approaches Saoirse and nickers to her, and Saoirse looks at Bergljot’s saddle.

“Will this do?” she asks, deftly plucking a dark blue strand of hair from the saddle blanket.

“Perfect.”