Authors: Jamie McHenry
She tossed a rag onto the counter and stomped toward me, aiming with her eyes. “Your fall from the Fae is a tragedy, but don’t ruin your sister’s excitement with spite for the life you gave away.”
I stumbled backward toward the dining room.
“I don’t understand,” I said. A chair halted my retreat.
“Yes, you do.” She pointed a finger at my chest. “You resent her for taking your place. Don’t!”
Mother could have thrown a sack of apples at me and it would have had less impact. Her words hit me and forced me into the chair. She was right. She knew how I felt, even though I couldn’t recognize it. It wasn’t Leila’s fault she was chosen.
“I’m sorry,” I said, as tears flooded my eyes. “I wasn’t trying to be rude.”
“You’re ruining her day.” Mother refused to relent. “I won’t allow that to happen.”
I covered my face as emotion reached me.
“Sean is gone,” she said, “and it isn’t her fault.”
“I know,” I sobbed. “I never said that.”
“You’ve been blaming the village for what happened.” Mother stood over me, hovering like a wasp. “No one here could have saved him. Do you understand?”
I cowered lower; her words had punctured me. “Mother, please.”
She continued. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Rhiannon. His death was not a punishment. In fact—”
She stopped yelling and sat on the bench beside the table.
“Mother?”
Her eyes were moist. “I think I would have done the same.”
I couldn’t hold back my tears. “No, Mother, don’t say that. I made a mistake—a horrible mistake. I should have never done those things.”
Mother shook her head and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Rhiannon, I’m proud of you,” she said, sniffling between words.
My tears dripped on to the front of my work dress. The shadow moved and sunlight entered the room again.
“You have a gift,” she told me. “In the darkest of nights, you were brave enough to share that gift with us. Do you know what it is?”
I shook my head.
“Love.” She stood, pulled me to her, and embraced me in a hug. “There isn’t a day that passes, since you told us what happened, that I don’t grab your father and hold him close. I don’t want to miss a moment with him or let a season pass without him knowing that I care for him more than anything.”
“You’ve always loved Father,” I said, squeezing her tight. “He knows that.”
Mother sniffled. “Our dreams are precious,” she said. “You risked everything in your life—everything, for the chance to share yours with someone you loved.” She pulled back and stared at me, her eyes moist and honest. “I wish I was that strong. I’m proud that you chose to be.”
I took a shuddering breath. “I’m not a faerie anymore,” I said. “I broke the rules.”
“You don’t need to be a faerie to care for others, or to help them understand what love is,” she said. “That’s the gift you’ve given me.”
I couldn’t speak. In the silence, I remembered the promise I had made to Leila at Stone Meadow. It seemed so long ago. Mother had helped me to keep that promise. I released her hand as Father burst into the house.
“Can you believe it?” he yelled, slamming the door behind him. “Another faerie in the family.”
“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” I said, wiping my face with my dress and smiling.
Ethan opened the door, grumbling, and Leila rushed in behind him. She dashed past, heading for the hall.
“Leila, where are you going?” asked Mother, reaching out to catch her. She missed.
“I’m going to bathe,” Leila answered, already at the stairs. Her voice echoed down to us. “I know just the dress I will wear.”
Mother turned to me. “Rhiannon, there will be happiness again for you. It always comes around, just like each season.” Her words melted a little of the winter from my heart.
~ O ~
Later that evening, after the sun let the shadows rule, I sat with my family at Stone Meadow. I wasn’t there to dance—I was there to die. I had lost my rights as a faerie; the Spring Ceremony would destroy the last remnants of that existence and create a pure offering to the newest faerie. There would be life afterward, I would still have my flesh, but breathing would be void of everything I had known for seven years. Thanks to Mother, I had accepted that fate.
We waited in the grass, close to the stones without entering the circle. Families of the Prospects always witnessed the ceremony with a closer view than the rest of the village—an intimate observation of either fortune or denial. The night was a rarity. Givers never saw their replacement. The Givers were always dead.
Father shifted his legs and tried to get more room. “They’re restless, tonight.” The noisy chatter around meadow swallowed his voice.
I wanted to turn, to clarify the sounds, but I didn’t dare reveal my face. I knew what questions were spreading behind me. Rumors traveled quickly in our village and I felt certain the whispers weren’t kind. I faced forward and imagined better nights at this hallowed ground.
In front of us, seven young women, Prospects, sat in a straight row; all wore newly sewn white gowns; all hoped for the glorious beginning that only one of them would know. A few sat perfectly still, facing the stones. Some waved to their families. Leila turned once and smiled at us. Nia was with them and didn’t move.
Spring Ceremonies happened so quickly that villagers never knew who the Prospects were. Still, Leila managed to get a message to Michael. No word had come from my best friend. I glanced back to ask Mother a question and caught the gaze of Tara Dunn, who stopped talking to another woman and appeared intent on hearing my words.
Mother didn’t answer me. She wiped one eye with her sleeve and waved at my sister. They exchanged eager smiles. Overhead, the sky was dark and stars filled the space where the moon had once marked the season.
Long slow fiddles stretched the moment and silenced the whispers. The ceremony was close. Behind me, someone spoke louder than needed, calling my name and requesting my leave. Their voice mocked the quiet peace and heralded a few muffled laughs. I didn’t move and allowed my tears their wanting. Voices are cruelest in the darkness. Father put a warm arm around my shoulders and the silence returned.
Near the Season Stone, a fire roared to life. The Fae took places between the pillars, filling every gap—twenty-six places—and then faced the flames and spread their arms. Raisa Bannon stepped toward the fire from directly in front of us. She carried a bundle of gold lace in her arms. My golden shawl.
I pulled Father’s arm closer and squeezed.
Without tears or hesitation, Raisa tossed the gold lace onto the fire. My shawl smothered the flames, filling the meadow with darkness. The fire, that only moments ago blared with promise, smoldered into a mass of black and red coals. It pulsated and hummed, buffeting us with repeated waves of invisible heat until sputtering to nothing. Silence and darkness allowed the stars to brighten. I lifted my face and accepted that my fate must be a part of them.
The fire exploded. I expected heat, but only gasps and cheers filled the space around the stone circle. A colorful plume of sparks soared into the air, higher than the stones, and showered over the circle, hanging as if held to the sky by invisible wings, refusing to touch the grass. The faeries in the circle took slow steps, humming as they swayed in a circle within the stones. I stopped watching them; I had been a part of that ceremony once before—when Abigail was chosen. They wouldn’t stop until the newest faerie stepped forward.
I turned my attention to the Prospects. They glanced at each other, rightfully nervous. Raisa must have given them the instructions for the choosing. No one would tell them when to approach the circle; they would decide the moment to discover their fate. That moment, seven years prior, had revealed all the anxiety and pain I had ever known at the time. Watching the other Prospects step forward was anxiety and agony wrapped within hope. I grinned at the memory. When I had stepped forward, I had found a neatly folded golden shawl at the opening of the Season Stone. A small parchment, inscribed with my name, indicated my ownership.
One Prospect stood and many in the crowd released whispers and gasps. She straightened her gown, lifted her chin, and walked toward the center of the circle. None of the Fae looked at her or acknowledged her passing; they continued their hum and kept moving. The air thickened with the breath of the entire village as she reached the Season Stone. Her wail echoed into the sky and she ran from the circle, covered in the black shawl of denial.
I understood her misery. As the girl’s mother stepped through the crowd to chase after her, the Fae kept their pace.
A second Prospect walked into the circle—Lindsay, Leila’s friend. She walked upright and calm when leaving the Solstice Stone, despite the black she wore. The third and fourth Prospects requested their fates and left the boundary of the stones, wiping their tears and sobbing. Every time a Prospect was denied, Mother shifted noisily in the grass. Her breathing grew louder and faster. The quiet outside the circle had also changed to a restless mixture of murmurs and queries.
Leila stood. Mother gasped. My sister straightened her hair with her fingers and sat down again. Father’s grip tightened, smothering me.
Why didn’t she go?
The choice had been made—her fate decided. Waiting didn’t change anything. As I stared at her, trying to share my desire to end the suspense, the fifth Prospect walked into the circle. I didn’t watch her. If she wasn’t chosen, that left Leila and Nia to claim my position in the Fae. Staring at both of them, my best friend and my sister, I scraped my dress with my fingers.
The moment stopped. As the fifth young woman cried her disappointment and put on the black shawl, the villagers heaved forward. The braver of the two remaining Prospects would announce the newest faerie. I crumpled my dress in a fist and clenched my teeth. Someone coughed, but the noise was swallowed by the night. The Fae continued their walk.
Leila stood again, paused, and then marched forward. Mother gasped and pulled Father away, leaving me cold. I watched my sister disappear behind the Season Stone.
The mysterious night changed to brilliant chaos. A wave of cheers spread from the villagers on the other side of the stone circle and met us as the fire burst with such brightness that I needed to cover my eyes. The faeries danced toward my sister, singing their welcome while she stepped forward, shimmering in white and gold. She grinned at everyone while tears sparkled down her cheeks. Leila was the new faerie.
Flutes, fiddles, and the drums of the bards roared from the forest, complimenting the shouts and yells from the village. “Leila!” they shouted. “Leila, the Fae.” Mother sobbed as Tara Dunn hugged her. The cheering blared and the praises rang.
Remembering my friend, I turned back to where Nia had once sat. It was empty grass. My friend’s fate had been chosen; she was not to be a faerie; and she had disappeared. The sounds around me muffled while I swallowed a moment of sorrow for her loss. I searched the crowd, but couldn’t find her. Everyone was dancing, shouting, or scattering toward the forest.
“There’s my daughter!” Father yelled louder than I thought was possible.
Leila was still crying when she rushed at me and leapt into my arms. “I’m a faerie!” she cried. “I’m a faerie!”
“It’s wonderful.” I caught her and spun around, filling the space around us with golden light from her new shawl. Happiness. I had forgotten what it felt like. It seemed as if I had been lifted to the stars and was bathing in their sparkles. Nothing mattered, but the moment. I kept spinning, watching Leila’s smile as the meadow whirled in a fantastic blur of color and noise.
This was Stone Meadow, where faeries had always danced.
I lowered her to the grass and sighed. “I wanted this,” I said. “I’m so happy.”
“What about you?” Leila jumped up and squeezed me in a warm hug. “What’s going to happen to you?”
I smiled and caressed her hair. “I’m your Giver. My story is yours.”
Secrets
Walks through Aisling had never felt the same as this, even with Nia at my side. Our steps marked the slow pace of two friends whose dreams had been crushed by the winter. Villagers left us alone. Even the small children didn’t wave or approach us. We were outcasts now; I was a fallen faerie, who once had been; Nia was a rejected Prospect, who never had the chance to be. We shared more than friendship, and I was grateful to travel the road with a friend that morning.
“This is it,” she announced, breaking the silence when we reached the narrow trail leading to the Bauer home. “Are you certain you want to come with me?”
I nodded and stared at the trees—they looked foreign and distant now. I had never walked this trail before without intending to visit Sean, but when Nia had arrived at my door that morning, and had shared her intentions, I realized that I couldn’t hide forever. Despite my lingering fear and hesitation, I confirmed my answer. “Yes, I need to do this.”
We resumed our silence during a slow march down the path that used to bring me joy. After every step further into the forest, my feet seemed to grip the soil, and tell my body what I refused to say aloud. I don’t want to go there. Still, I understood it was necessary.