The Summer King (36 page)

Almost.

“Honor!”

She ran to her twin and, nearly fainting with happiness, clasped her in her arms. How light she felt! Like an armful of air!

“Is it you? Is it really you?” she said, touching Honor’s face, hugging her again.

It was too good, too incredible, too miraculous to be true.

They were both crying and laughing.

“I had a dream,” Honor told her. “I fell out of the sky and into the sea, but before I could drown, you fished me out and wrapped me in a shawl of golden feathers.”

“Did I?” said Laurel happily.

More laughter. More tears.

“Then I dreamed you needed
me
,” Honor continued. “And I rode out on a pale horse to bring you succor.”

“Yes, yes, you did,” said Laurel, too dazed to really hear. “Oh God, I’ve missed you so much! I can’t believe you’re here! I’ve dreamed and hoped and worked for this. And I’m sorry, I really am. I’ve so wanted to say that to you. I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry?” said her twin, laughing. “For all you have done for me?”

“No, not that. For before … I should’ve … I was so selfish. Just thinking of myself.”

“And did I think of you?” Her sister’s voice was gentle. “Though some might call it selfish, we each must follow our own star. It’s not right that you should blame yourself. I chose my destiny, and it is you who have brought me to it.”

That was the moment when an icy sliver entered Laurel’s heart. And though she could already see the truth emerging, she made a last effort to deny it.

“I was told if the Midsummer Fire was lit, if the Ring of the Sun was forged, that I could save you. That’s what they promised me.”

“You did save me,” her twin said softly. “You woke me from a sleep in which I was lost, and here I am, in Faerie, where I wish to be.”

“But … but aren’t you coming home? To Mom and Dad? To me?”

“Oh, my dear one.” Honor touched Laurel’s face and took her hands. “I cannot return to the Earthworld. You know that. I died there.”

The pain was so strong that Laurel thought it might break her, and yet she wasn’t really surprised. Wasn’t this what she had dreaded all evening? The true reason for her reluctance to join the feast? Deep inside, she had always known what lay in wait for her. But against it she had clutched a handful of hopes—that Honor would come home, live out her life, change and grow old along with her. Now those hopes withered like fairy gold turned to dried leaves in her hand, crumbling into dust.

She stood pale and trembling.

It was Midir who stepped forward and bowed to her. A hush fell over the hall as he spoke in solemn tones.

“We thank thee for all thou hast done for Faerie. By restoring the
Fáinne na Gréine
you have healed our land from the hurt caused by the death of the First King. And not only have you brought me into my kingship but you have given us our Queen. On this day do I declare thee a Companion of Faerie. As with all so named, thou shalt not suffer the Spell of Forgetting, and thou shalt be called again into the Kingdom. Though you have lost your sister in the Earthworld, you have not lost her in Faerie.”

Laurel bowed her head to acknowledge his words, but couldn’t yet speak.

Honor clapped her hands so that the music and dancing resumed in the hall.

“All’s well that ends well,” she said with a little laugh. “I am in Faerie and, rumor tells me, you are in love?”

Laurel flinched at her twin’s quick change of mood. She was as flighty as a fairy.

Honor looked around the hall expectantly.

“But where is the Summer King? Did he not accompany you?”

Laurel couldn’t hide her anguish.

Her sister was dismayed.

“Have you not forgiven him? Oh El! Was he not both wicked and blameless?”

“I … I can’t forgive him. I won’t. Not ever. And I can’t stand the sight of him. Every time I look at him, I hear him laughing as he shoots the arrow. You may be happy, but if it wasn’t for him you’d still be alive and living out your life with me.”

Honor shook her head sadly.

“Alas that my joy must bring you pain.”

Despite her words, Laurel saw with a pang that her twin didn’t really understand. She was a fairy now, and felt no sorrow in the parting of death. Laurel was beginning to notice other differences; the faint shimmer of gold on her sister’s skin, the fey look in her eyes.

Honor turned to Midir to take his arm, and together the royal couple glided over the floor. All the bright lords and ladies bowed low to the High King and High Queen of Faerie, and as they passed by, a beautiful voice sang out.

Cónaímid i spreach solais
Mear mar eite fáinleoige,
Lá grianmhar is lá pianmhar.

Ansin titeann an contráth:
Agus eitlíonn an t-éan abhaile san oíche.

Sheol mé long dúghorm an stuimine oir
Thar sáile áiféalta réalta go brách,
Thrasnaigh mé imeall tine an chaomhnóra
Is ghaibh mé isteach sa Bhrionglóid.

As the words shape-shifted in Laurel’s mind so that she understood them, she realized it was Honor singing.

We live in a flicker of light
Swift as swallows’ wings,
A day of sunshine and pain.

Then dusk falls:
And the bird flies home in the evening.

I have sailed the blue ship with the silver prow
Over the sea of eternal stars,
I have crossed the guardian’s rim of fire
And passed into the Dreaming.

With the elegy still echoing in her mind, Laurel slipped away from the ball and stepped out onto the terrace. She did not feel like dancing or feasting. The sadness enfolded her like a cloak.

The sun was rising on the horizon, tinting the sky a rosy gold. Midsummer’s Eve was over and the dawn of the summer solstice had come. Behind her, the music and revelry grew mute. Only now did Laurel acknowledge that a full year had passed since her sister’s death. There was no going back. Her twin would never return.

The days of quiet mourning had begun.

t was early morning. The promenade of Bray beach was deserted. A pale mist crept over the sea’s surface as the sun began to warm the waters. The tide was receding. The sand was strewn with seaweed and torqued pieces of drift-wood. As the waves retreated, pebbles clinked together with a musical rhythm. A lone heron stood in the shallows, its wings folded like an old man with his hands in his pockets, its feathers tinged with red. Letting out a squawk, it took to the air and flew toward Bray Head. The cluricaun? Laurel followed his flight till he disappeared beyond the cliffs.

Her way of looking at the world had changed forever. There was so much more to life than what met the eye. It was a truth she cherished, a consolation for all that she had lost and may yet lose. And though it inspired in her a longing for an existence beyond her, she accepted the longing itself as a reminder of the truth.

That morning, she had gone into her grandfather’s library to place the golden feather in one of his books. She chose a collection of poetry by W. B. Yeats and found a page with a poem that she liked.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

She was just about to close the book when she glanced over at the fireplace. There sat the cluricaun in his old red suit, puffing on his pipe.

“It was my Granda who first bound the Summer King, wasn’t it?”

The cluricaun nodded.

“Is that why Honor and I were chosen for the mission?”

“Yes and no. Ye might call it the Faerie version of the oul Grandfather Paradox. Do ye know it?”

She didn’t.

“Bit of a head stagger,” he said. “If ye go back in time and kill your grandfather before he met your grandmother, then ye could never have been born, so therefore ye couldn’t have gone back in time. Got that?”

“Almost,” she admitted.

“Well, your mission and his is the same difference. But do ye really need to know the whole story? I never could agree with people that want every happening sorted out and explained. Where’s the mystery in that? Where’s the magic?”

Laurel recognized the shifty look in his eyes.

“I like things explained,” she said evenly. “Just give me the facts.”

The cluricaun wriggled in his chair.

“You’ve got to keep in mind, we were workin’ in the dark. We knew the king had been banished for his crimes, but the who and the where were unbeknownst. We went lookin’ for the human that did the job, and bejapers it took a while. ’Twas the golden feather tipped us off to your grandfather. But we were slow to cop on to Ian, more’s the pity, and by the time we did, he had nicked the feather and scarpered for Achill. That was the Summer King’s plan, ye see. His
scáth
was born near your Granda, and he had only to wait for the right time to act. Ian himself knew nothin’ about the king, but was always under his sway and sufferin’ because of it.”

The little man paused as if expecting Laurel to say something about Ian, but she didn’t. She would never be one who spoke freely about her personal life, especially the painful parts.

“To begin at the beginning,” he resumed. “’Twas a dark day, that Midsummer’s Eve, when the Queen of Clan Egli was murdered and the Temple of the Birds destroyed. It all happened so fast, Faerie was shook to the core. Finvarra, the High King at the time, went to Laheen in his eyrie and swore to punish the culprit.

“There was many in the Court wanted him kilt and be done with it, but Finvarra didn’t like to lose the Ring of the Sun forever. He was never in a hurry to let go of a good thing. And here’s the bit of the story that we only know now, since our new High King came into his own.

“’Twas agreed between Finvarra and Laheen that the Summer King would be imprisoned, and the last of the Fir-Fia-Caw would be his jailers. The Old Eagle gave Finvarra one of Ular’s feathers to vanquish the king in her name. He also told Finvarra about a family on Achill who had the same claim against the Summer King, for his arrow would kill one of their own.”