8. Keira

Chapter 8

Keira

C aitlin’s face drops, turning deathly pale, and her eyes become glassy. Her hands visibly shake. I want to pull her into a hug, to take away that pain and bitter disappointment. To allow her to cry into my shoulder, but she would never show that kind of emotion, not even to me. For her, all vulnerability is weakness. To me, there is strength in being able to express it.

I settle by taking her hand and squeezing it, then pulling her back into her seat. My heart breaks looking at her.

“You heard me right,” the high priestess continues. “There is no such thing as a magical pregnancy.”

Caitlin isn’t the only one who looks visibly sick. My own stomach twists with revulsion at bedding a fae. They were once our greatest abusers when they ruled this realm. Rapists. Murderers. Kidnappers. Surely such an experience would be horrible. Traumatic beyond belief.

“But how?” one woman cries out. A lord’s daughter who probably saw her way out of a marriage. “Can we even bear their children? Must we lay with a fae beast? Surely, they would be cruel. That they would hurt us.”

My grandmother lets out a long breath, and her tone softens. “It is true that the high fae kidnapped our women for hundreds of years to be their consorts and carry their offspring, because we humans are far more fertile than their females. Sometimes we hear of incidents of it happening in current times.”

I cringe. Those words really do not help.

My grandmother continues on her warpath. “Humans had no magic until ancient Tuatha Dé Danann of the Otherworld opened the portals and visited these lands. Those old gods combined their bloodline with humans to create the fae. Once, when the portals between realms were open and fae lords ruled these lands, our people had great magical abilities due to the interbreeding, but we were not free until we banished the fae from these lands.

“Now the only way to bring real magic back to our people is to mix our blood with the fae, as we once did. Magic does not truly belong to humans, despite how we have built our technology around it. The greatest secret of this realm hides the fact that a magical pregnancy comes from laying with a fae. That our most blessed offspring are half fae. There is no immaculate conception where the magic itself is imbued in a womb as we would have this realm believe. If this knowledge were known, this kingdom could erupt into civil war. Those with great prejudice would attempt to slaughter the children of the fae and their descendants.”

I am shell-shocked by the revelations. We all are.

Women have been laying with the fae for generations. My grandmother did it. The people who enslaved us and took all the wealth of these lands for themselves. Who oppressed us.

I have read brutal accounts of their deeds, copied by scribes to preserve knowledge hundreds of years old where original works didn’t survive. So much of the truth has been lost over time. We know nothing of the fae who used to rule from Appleshield Castle, other than his gravestone.

A woman puts up her hand, but it wavers and she lowers it again.

The high priestess’ gaze focuses on her. “Speak, child.”

“Naomi, was—was it horrible? Was he abusive?”

A high-pitched laugh erupts from my grandmother. “Horrible? No child. It was thrilling and exciting and incredibly delightful. I almost didn’t want to return home. The fae are not like us. There is no stigma around sex. Sometimes, it seems there are no rules at all in their world. They are incredibly free, and every moment in a lover’s embrace is celebrated and cherished, unlike many human men who only focus on their own gratification. They are incredibly beautiful and very proficient lovers.

“I suggest you treat this pilgrimage as you would any festival day. Have fun, explore what the place has to offer, and if a low fae takes your fancy, then indulge yourself. The fae definitely know how to celebrate and there are constant forest parties you can slip into. A single low fae can take many forms, so if a wild form doesn’t take your fancy, they can become human-like. They usually do, to entice one of us. Keep away from the high fae at all costs .”

Have fun?

She says it as though it were the simplest thing, while roaming enemy lands. Falling into the clutches of a fae man is meant to be the worst possible thing to happen to a human woman. How could I ever trust one enough to allow him to touch me? I look around the classroom and notice I am not the only one who isn’t convinced. We all wear varying degrees of scowls and sick expressions.

Despite my conviction, my treacherous heart soars at the idea of dancing among the fae. At not only observing their culture, but actually participating in it. Of living, rather than reading life through books.

“Won’t we stand out? As humans?” a minor lord’s daughter asks.

“Won’t they try to kill us immediately?” a villager says at the same time.

My grandmother lets out a long breath, as she takes us all in. “One hidden truth is that there are entire villages of humans who still live in the fae world. The druids constantly crossover when we open the portals every seven years. Some unwitting humans accidentally step through the places where there are unmarked rifts between the worlds. Pilgrims decide not to return home. While humans are rare in the Otherworld, they are not completely out of place. ”

“Why would any pilgrim choose to live amongst our enemy when their responsibility is here?” Caitlin spits.

“The Otherworld is said to be enchanting, and that it can steal a naive woman’s heart,” I say without thinking, my mind full of that fae romance novel sitting on my desk in the library. “That high fae are especially charming when they want to be.”

“Do not become attached to any fae.” My grandmother’s eyes stare straight at me. “And stay away from the high fae at all costs. Those stories you hear of rape and pillage? The high fae are responsible for those. They are masters of manipulation and they will trap you. If any fae discovers a pilgrim is pregnant, whether it is their child or not, they will lock you up and never let you return home. They will use and abuse you as a breeding mare. They can smell the hormones and it sends them into a crazed, animalistic state. Remember, it is your duty to bring magic back to this realm. You must return. ”

A woman raises her hand. “Are you saying that the low fae nymphs and spirits will party with us and make us their lovers, show us kindness, until the moment we fall pregnant, and then they become our villains and captors?”

“Yes, child,” my grandmother says softly. “It is exactly what happened to me and I almost didn’t make it home. When it is your time to leave, you must run.”

The surrounding women nod vigorously. The idea of choosing to stay in the fae realm seems absurd. Of leaving behind my family and people. It is a betrayal to our kingdom.

The classroom erupts in excited chatter once more, before the high priestess reins us in again. “We must discuss the different types of fae you may encounter. There are four courts, Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, each specializing in different elemental magic and with their own kinds of low fae. Sprites, elementals, nymphs, and beasts. They live in the wild parts and are more interested in the pleasures of the flesh than plotting and scheming.

“The vicious high fae live in the cities and palaces, and can easily be avoided.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “We will discuss the fae courts in greater detail in tomorrow’s class, where we will study maps. You are dismissed for today.” She turns and wipes the chalk from a board.

The other women shuffle out of the room, pale from the sheer onslaught of information, but I feel strangely frozen in place.

I turn to Caitlin, who hasn’t moved either. “Are you okay?”

“It’s a lot of information.” Her tone is flat.

“The magical pregnancy?”

She looks at me with distant eyes, then nods. It had been her lifeline. Her way to get an heir without having to endure a man, and it has been taken away from her.

Footsteps click toward us and our grandmother suddenly looms over our position, the facade of our high priestess and educator gone.

“None of that girl.” She slams a hand down on the table in front of Caitlin. “You haven’t even crossed into the Otherworld and you're already disheartened? Toughen up. Select a different task and take a niece or nephew as an heir. But if you are set on a pregnancy, listen to me closely.”

She leans over the desk to stare at Caitlin. “Many fae are shapeshifters. Some are neither male or female, and some are both. A Lake Maiden can reproduce asexually to create her seed-stones. They are pure water and spirit, and take the shape of their choosing on land. A Lake Maiden can create a seed-stone through union with a man, or create a pregnancy through a union with a woman. The child grown within a womb would be as human as your father is. The maiden would need to be impressed indeed by a human to make that choice, but of all the fae, they may be the most likely to let that child go to another realm.”

There is still a heavy weight upon Caitlin’s shoulders, and it is clear she needs to have a conversation with Gwyneth, without being able to fully explain what she is asking permission for from her partner, but that deadness within her is gone.

That pure dread of having to touch a man.

“And you, child?” My grandmother places a gentle hand on my shoulder .

“I think Caitlin already has a plan for me.” I send my sister an affectionate smile.

“We will stay together when we make the crossing.” Caitlin declares. “We will approach the same Lake Maiden.”

“Good,” my grandmother says. “Walk with me to my chambers. We will discuss this plan for you both.”

We stay up for half the night, and I can’t stop yawning in the lecture the next morning. The rest of the classes fly by, taught by different priestesses.

My mind explodes with the new horizons that are being opened before me. At the sheer wealth of knowledge their order has collected and kept secret over the years.

After the classes each day, I sit with Caitlin in the library and we talk for hours about tactics and plans, even our childhood. Whenever we speak of subjects revealed in our classes and someone who hasn’t taken the oath nears, the silvery tattoo around our fingers shines and the words die on our lips.

A closeness grows between Caitlin and me that had diminished since our childhood. After Caitlin took up the many responsibilities of being the heir to the Appleshield Protectorate, and I became idle, waiting on my prince and my future.

The classroom lessons end, replaced by physical training. I wait with the other pilgrims in the main courtyard of the keep for our teachers to arrive and take us to our first session. We huddle together, shivering in the cool morning. Alice, Fiona, and Erin cling to me, asking a hundred nervous questions about the training to come. I answer absentmindedly, noticing other women listening in.

Within the space of minutes, I am surrounded by a circle of pilgrim candidates, their buzzing voices reverberating off all the stone of the walled courtyard. My attention is pulled in multiple directions as they talk over each other. I rub at my temples.

Gwyneth and Caitlin burst out of the castle’s entrance in a show of swinging doors and with a tail of guards behind them.

“Listen up everyone!” Gwyneth shouts, causing squawking birds to launch off the parapets. “You will learn hand-to-hand combat with me for the next week.” She looks around the group appraisingly. “Form a circle around me. Yes, that's good. Now has anyone here had formal combat training? Swordcraft, archery, wrestling, or anything of the like? Step backward out of the circle if you have.”

I step out of the group, along with all the other daughters of lords and women who have trained as guards.

“Great. I want you to form the first group,” Gwyneth continues. “Any women who are proficient hunters or who are at least semi-professional in wrestling or boxing or another fighting sport, step out of the circle and form another group.” Another sizeable chunk of the pilgrims move to her command.

Only four women are left, and Gwyneth probes them intently while Caitlin stands at her side, arms crossed. One woman has five older brothers and constantly brawled with them growing up. The other two are professional dancers and women of the night, with enough street smarts to survive. The fourth is an acrobat from the circus.

“This is a good group. Everyone has enough experience to hold their own,” Caitlin utters to Gwyneth, not bothering to lower her voice.

The captain of the guard nods. “The women who are drawn to the pilgrimage are almost always fighters.”

Gwyneth leads us out of the inner walls and toward the outdoor training field, with a group of Protector Guards flanking us. They will be our trainers for the week.

My boots squelch in mud. The air is fresh but not icy, and instead of frost glittering across the grass, small early flowers jewel the way. Winter has truly passed, and we are creeping toward the spring equinox. I bite my lip at the thought of that deadline. At the crossing.

“You haven’t mentioned Prince Finan in a week. Do you know that?” Caitlin murmurs.

I have hardly thought of him since the priestesses arrived, except to brush him off whenever our paths crossed. How strange, when he had once been the center of my universe .

The daily physical training is intense. We spar against each other, perfecting kicks and punches, how to defend or roll out of a grasp.

Each of us learns to fight against a male guard, as tall and broad as the male fae are legend to be. How to find his weaknesses, to disarm him and use those weapons against him, how to run and hide. I am paired with Liam and give him a good run for his money.

“Use everything you have in a fight against a fae,” Gwyneth announces during one session. “Anything can become a weapon. Snapped branches. Large stones. A handful of sand. If it comes to a fight, assume it will be to the death. But do everything in your power to a head-on confrontation. Forget your pride. One does not take on a bear with their hands alone.”

An entire afternoon is dedicated to throwing knives at bodies made of cloth and sand, and another wrestling huge guards with blunt knives, learning about the best places to cut.

“When are we going to practice archery?” Erin, a huntress, asks.

“We won’t,” Gwyneth says curtly. “Unless anyone wants a brief, private lesson outside of the class.” Eyes turn to her in shock, and she wipes her hands on her tunic, then claps them three times loudly. “Okay, everyone, listen here. There is one thing we must get straight. You are crossing into the Otherworld and masquerading as sweet, lost human girls looking to experience the fae world. Not as soldiers. Not as obvious assassins, though that is what some of you may be.

“The fae must see you as harmless fun. A passing curiosity. At the slightest perceived threat, they will destroy you. You will not engage in a direct attack and you will not have swords or a bow and arrows on you. A knife or two may be passable, perhaps even a staff, but no obvious weapons. That is why we will focus on hand-to-hand techniques.”

An icy shiver runs down my spine, and from the many pale faces around me, I know I am not the only one who is unnerved.

My entire body aches by the end of each day, and I return to the castle limping with smarting muscles and blistered feet. I cannot help the permanent smile on my face. I am working toward something that is just for me, a bolster to my identity and my achievements, and it feels great.

The final week is spent tutoring the pilgrims on their magical ability, and I take on a teaching role rather than that of a student. My father runs the classes, as the most powerful mage in our protectorate, accompanied by the strongest of the priestesses.

The powers of almost all the women are minimal, because any substantial wielder is scoured from the lands and given high-paying positions of prestige to work in our orchards or guard.

The weeks of training disappear in a flash, and I lose myself in them. Then the ceremony of the crossing is suddenly upon us.