separated herself from the crowd and waved. “They were betting on whether you would show up with your weapons drawn or not. Come. Follow me.”
I began to follow, but I moved slowly and kept my sword out. The downside to paranoia is that you occasionally become the target of sport like this, but the upside is that you stay alive.
The slow pace allowed us to wonder at the scenerya bit. Apart from ordinary
sidhe
, who were difficult to distinguish from humans at times, there were oak-men, dancing feeorin, Fir Darrigs,
geancanach
, brownies, and a small delegation representing the Blue Men of the Minch. Pixies flitted about excitedly, making snide comments about us, no doubt, and causing small pockets of Fae to erupt in laughter wherever they paused to whisper.
The sky above us was the precise shade of blue that travel agencies want on all their promotional materials, and I wondered, apropos of nothing, what its Pantone number might be back on earth. Here it was the illusion of perfection that Brighid wished to project: All was well in Tír na nÓg, because how could it be otherwise with such fabulous weather?
The Fae Court wasn’t the stuffy European sort, of course, with marble floors and gilt-framed portraits and human accessories like fops and fools lying about. It was, rather, this heather-kissed meadow in the middle of a carefully tended grove. So when Flidais had led us to “a tree directly outside the Fae Court,” she meant a tree on the edge of the meadow. Behind us lay the shade of impressive oaks, and eyes in there were watching us, I knew.
Judging by the sun’s position, we were on the southern edge of the Court; Flidais was leading us to the northern edge, where there was a small hill—a hillock, I suppose, a wee mound with hillish ambitions—upon which sat Brighid’s throne. I could tell she was there, but the distance was great enough that I couldn’t read her expression, and in any case it was far enough away that she didn’t represent an immediate threat. The crowd of faeries, however, which was parting to allow us through, would soon be on either side of us and then behind us, and I didn’t like that so much.
“Flidais, please warn them to stay clear of my friendsand me. We may interpret sudden moves as threats and respond accordingly.”
The goddess of the hunt stopped and turned to face us. “Do you truly feel we are so hostile?”
“I doubt Brighid is well disposed toward me right now. That is cause enough to be on our guard. The Fae take their cue from her; you know this.”
Flidais smirked. “If Brighid wishes you harm, she’ll deliver it herself, Druid. None of these would presume to steal her right.”
“She has no rights regarding me.” All the Fae within earshot gasped and went, “Oooooh,” in expectation that I’d be paying for that comment soon.
“Do please tell her that to her face.” Flidais turned to resume her walk to the throne and called back over her shoulder, “I can tell already that this is going to be an amusing audience.”
I have the same hope
. I checked on Granuaile, and she gave me a short, tight-lipped nod to let me know she was okay. Perun was okay too—rather, he was hopelessly in lust with Flidais’s backside. As long as she didn’t go invisible on him, he’d probably be content.
Fae were flooding into the Court—or the meadow—attracted by gossip that had no doubt circulated on fluttering wings. A susurrus of excitement swelled from all sides, and our audience was quickly building to the proportions of a spectator sport.
A small formation of pixies, goaded by their friends or perhaps genuinely clueless about who I was and how I’d react to Fae flying at me, swooped in for a quick playful welcome dance over my head—or so I was informed afterward. There were seven of them one second, and two seconds later,
Carmen Caine, Madison Adler