“Be along with ye now.” Annwynn made a whooshing motion with her hands. “Skye and I must prepare for the crystal ceremony tonight.”
“The one I’m supposed to activate for your Seelie Court?” Skye’s heart stammered as the enormity of the task sank in. What if she couldn’t do it? She might be as much a failure at being a fairy as she was at being a witch. After all, she was only, as Claribel put it, a half breed kind of thing.
Stop it. She had escaped from Claribel, called on strengths she didn’t know were there. She could do it again.
Annwynn gave a sly smile, as if she read Skye’s thoughts. “It must take place before midnight this eve. If not, the opportunity will have been lost to us forever. We cannot allow that to happen.”
Despite the self-pep talk, the fairy’s words made her scalp prickle in alarm. If she didn’t come through . . . it could be very bad for her and Kheelan. Fatal even.
“By yer leave,” said one of the little fairies, doffing a pointy green hat in their direction. His twin did the same. “Don’t ye worry.”
Annwynn lifted her wand and the block of ice at Finvorra’s feet melted to a puddle on the hardwood floor.
Skye watched, amazed, as Finvorra meekly submitted to the creatures and left without a parting shot. “He’ll run for it as soon as he’s out of your sight.”
Annwynn’s laugh tinkled like a delicate crystal chime. “I discreetly zapped Finvorra with a teeny obedience spell. He’ll give them no trouble.”
“So you don’t entirely trust the strength and cleverness of your guards.”
“The male of any species has their precious pride, ye ken.”
“Yeah, I ken.”
They exchanged understanding smiles.
“And now it be time to prepare ye for yer evening’s work.”
Skye’s smile slipped. “First, prove to me Kheelan is really okay. I won’t agree to help until I see he’s safe.”
“Suspicious aren’t ye?” Annwynn cocked her head to the side, considering. As if coming to a decision, she nodded and pulled out a glass vial from the pocket of her gown and dabbed her fingertips with the contents. “Close yer eyes.”
Skye shut them and Annwyn touched each lid with a frosty finger. Her lids tingled and warmed while the darkness behind them transformed to a vision of Kheelan, standing alone under a tall tree. “He is alive,” she gasped. “He’s really alive.”
“Now back to business. Open yer eyes.” Annwynn placed ice-cold hands on Skye’s shoulders and guided her to a mirror hanging above the fireplace. “Behold yer reflection. I can’t have The One arrive at the celestial crystal ceremony looking a fright.”
Skye winced. Talk about a bad hair day. And her clothes were tattered and smeared with dirt, cobwebs and sluagh blood. Her makeup-less face was pale, the freckles popping out like globs of cinnamon sprinkles. Her two-day old wings drooped unevenly and were badly singed along the edges. “I could use a good clean-up,” she conceded.
Annwynn ran cool fingers through the red and purple tangles of Skye’s hair. “First, I’ll take care of yer wounds and then we’ll do a makeover, fairy style.”
“Promise you won’t make me look anything like Claribel.”
“More like Adorabelle. And afterwards ye shall have a nice supper and rest to get yer strength back for tonight.”
Skye went into the first bathroom and screwed up her face in disgust. Clumps of what appeared to be shaved toe hair lay in heaps on the floor like dead rats. Even worse, the stench of alcohol and vomit made it hard to breathe.
“Wrong room.” Annwynn pointed her wand to a door at the end of the hall. Relieved, Skye entered the sparse but mercifully clean bathroom.
And enjoyed the most aromatic, relaxing bath of her life. The steamy bathroom was a jumble of floral and herbal scents. She savored their notes like a gourmet meal. Annwynn brought in homemade concoctions for soap, shampoo and conditioner that were out-of-this-world amazing. She had never felt so clean and pampered.
Only the lure of food made Skye leave the warm haven. Annwynn brought her one of Kheelan’s t-shirts and she snuggled into his lingering male scent, comforted by the contact. Annwyn pointed out his bedroom and Skye entered the stark room that was scrupulously clean, but as bland and impersonal as a motel room. She grabbed a blanket off his bed, a pair of wool socks, and padded into the kitchen where a place had already been set for her at the table.
“What’s this?” she asked, picking up a spoon and stirring the bowl. It seemed forever since her last real meal. She was about to dig in when she remembered a warning from Kheelan. Never eat or drink anything from the fairies, if you do, it could be a trap. You might never return home.
“It’s chili Kheelan made last night. Lots of cayenne powder, garlic and onions.” Annwynn shot her a sideways glance. “No fairy magic.”
Fairy voodoo or no, Skye ate. If this was a trick or some kind of test, she was doomed. Like Esau selling his birthright to Jacob for a pot of beef stew.