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Sixteen Years Later
The sprite was back. She was sitting on an upper shelf near the door where Papa had lined up several metal tankards—the ones he commissioned from the blacksmith to sell to travelers.
She was a wood sprite, no taller than my hand from the heel of my palm to the tip of my middle finger. She was quite pretty.
Her tiny female body was the vibrant blue of a summer sky, covered in downy feathers up to and over her breasts, where her skin, a paler blue, covered her throat and face. Her slender legs ended in sharp black talons, which she currently used to perch on the lip of the shelf above me.
She stretched out her black-tipped wings and yawned, revealing tiny, serrated teeth. Wood sprites had bird-like wings instead of arms like other sprites. Her head was small and smooth and covered in tiny blue feathers that curled up at theback of the neck. And she watched me with large, round black eyes.
I continued to sweep, trying to ignore the game of Kings and Bones Papa had been playing with customers for the past three hours. I wondered why she was watching me.
She’d first appeared not long after we settled here in these woods. Our high lord had been moving us frequently the past several years as the war between Northgall and Lumeria became more volatile. We’d settled here north of the Borderlands last winter in the dense forest not too far from Lake Moreen. And since the ambassador now sitting at the table with my father had carried the news to us that the war was over—had been over for months, actually—it seemed we’d be staying here.
I didn’t like it. We were currently living on Northgall lands. And while our high lord had assured us we were too far away from any of the dark fae to be in danger, I knew for a fact he was wrong.
My sister, Tessa, had been taken by one this past summer. Papa had been gravely ill, burning up with fever. She’d left in the middle of the night to fetch juniper to help with the fever, and she’d never returned.
The next morning, I found a letter attached to something small wrapped in fine leather on our doorstep. The letter bore my name in Tessa’s hand. Though it was certainly her penmanship, I was sure she was forced to write the letter, telling me she’d met a beast fae, who was now her mate.
That was ridiculous! We’d spoken that very night about how awful and terrifying the dark fae were. She’d never simply galivant off and leave me to mate with one.
In the letter, Tessa had asked me to meet her that night at the stream if I wanted to go and live with their clan instead of stay with Papa.
Nonsense. As if I’d fall for that. The beast fae who’d captured her had obviously forced her to write the letter to try to lure me away from home and the protection of our wood fae clan.
I didn’t fall for it, of course.
However, I did find a beautifully made dagger and scabbard wrapped inside the leather. Tessa’s letter had said it was a gift for my protection. It made me wonder about a captor who would allow her to send me a gift before spiriting her away in the middle of the night.
The dagger was small and fit perfectly in my hand. From that day on, I strapped the dagger to my thigh beneath my homespun dress. Without Tessa at my side, I felt even more vulnerable and would have to protect myself.
The wood sprite walked behind several tankards and settled right above my father and the men playing Kings and Bones like she was actually interested in the game. Curious.
I’d noticed her while I was gathering fennel in the woods last summer, not long before Tessa was taken. She’d followed me home that afternoon. When I called up to her in the branches, she said not a word, but simply watched me. All sprites could speak, but I wondered if she couldn’t since she never did.
She reappeared many times over the next several months, simply observing me as I hung the laundry to dry behind our inn or worked in the small garden out back. She even followed me from tree to tree when I went in search of herbs in the woods.
Since Tessa left, I found the wood sprite’s company comforting, even if she never spoke to me. She still felt like a friend.
“More mead, Murgha!” bellowed Papa from the corner table, his words slurring.
The sun was slanting through the western window, casting shadows on the rough wood plank floor.
There was no one else in the tavern of our four-room inn built beneath a giant black oak tree. The only customers were the three men at the table with Papa—the moon fae ambassador from Mevia and his two guardsmen.
“Hurry, girl,” Papa called, rattling the bits of stone and bone in the pewter bowl before scattering them on the board of kingdoms carved into the table.
“Well done, Phestys,” said the ambassador. “Seems you’re on a winning streak.”
My gut clenched as I retrieved a pitcher of mead from behind the bar and made my way to their table. Papa had always been a gambler. Even worse since Tessa left.
Once his fever had broken last summer, he’d stormed to the high lord’s council and demanded they go after the creature who’d stolen his daughter. But our high lord was a useless coward.
Even though it was his idea to leave our home in Myrkovir Forest and flee to asaferplace away from the war, he was the one who rarely stayed in residence here. He was always leaving for some important summit in Morodon on the coast or somewhere far away.
Ironically, he’d taken us here for safety, and yet, Tessa had been stolen in the night. Simply vanished into thin air.
“So I am, my lord,” agreed Papa with a belchy chuckle, hauling his coin closer.
