“Lea, don’t.” Puck’s voice surprised me, low, rough, and almost desperate. My stomach sank even lower. “Not this way. Let me explain it to her.”
Leanansidhe turned a remorseless gaze on Puck and shook her head. “No, darling. I think it’s time the girl knew the truth. You had plenty of time to tell her, so this is no fault but your own.” She waved her hand, and music started, dark, ominous piano chords, though no one sat at the bench. Another spotlight clicked on, this time over Leanansidhe as she rose in a billowing of cloth and hair. Standing tall, her hands raised as if embracing an audience, the Dark Muse closed her eyes and began to speak.
“Once upon a time, there were two mortals.”
Her musical voice shivered into my head, and I saw the images as clearly as if I was watching a movie. I saw my mom, younger, smiling, carefree, holding hands with a tall, lanky man whom I recognized now. Paul. My dad. They were talking and laughing, obviously in love and oblivious to the world. A lump rose in my throat.
“In mortal eyes,” Leanansidhe continued, “they were unremarkable. Two souls in a throng of identical humans. But to the faery world, they were fountains of glamour, beacons of light in the darkness. An artist whose paintings almost sang with a life of their own, and a musician whose soul was intertwined in his music, their love only heightened their talents.”
“Wait,” I blurted, interrupting the flow of the story. Leanansidhe blinked and dropped her hands, and the stream of images stumbled to a halt. “I think you have it wrong. My dad wasn’t a great musician, he was an insurance salesman. I mean, I know he played the piano, but if he was so good, why didn’t he do anything with it?”
“Who is telling the story here, pet?” The Exile Queen bristled, and the lights flickered again. “Don’t you know the term ‘starving artist’? Your father was very gifted, but music did not pay the bills. Now, do you want to hear this story or not, pet?”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, sinking back in the couch. “Go on, please.”
Leanansidhe sniffed, flipping back her hair, and the visions started again as she continued.
“They got married and, as humans do, began to drift apart. The man took a new job, one that required him to leave home for long periods of time; his music dwindled and soon ceased altogether. His wife continued to paint, less frequently than before, but now her art was filled with longing, a yearning for something more. And perhaps that was what drew the eye of the Summer King.”
I bit my lip. I’d heard this story before, from Oberon himself, but it still didn’t make it any easier. Ash squeezed my shoulder.
“Not long after, a child was born, a child of two worlds, half faery and half mortal. During that time, there was much speculation in the Summer Court, wondering if the child should be taken into Faery and raised as Oberon’s daughter, or if she was to stay in the human world with her mortal parents. Unfortunately, before a decision could be made, the family fled with the child, spiriting her far away and out of Oberon’s reach. To this day, no one knows how they accomplished this, though there was a rumor that the girl’s mother somehow found a way to hide them all, that perhaps she was not as blind to Faery as she first appeared.
“Ironically, it was the human’s music that gave them away again, when the father of the girl began composing again. Six years after they fled from the courts, Queen Titania discovered the location of the child’s family, and was determined to take her revenge. She could not kill the girl and risk Oberon’s wrath, nor did she dare strike at the mother, the human who caught the eye of the Summer King. But the girl’s mortal father had no such protection.”
“So, Titania took my dad?” I had to interrupt, though I knew it would probably piss Leanansidhe off again. She glowered at me, but I was too frustrated to care. “But, that doesn’t make sense! How’d he end up with you?”
Leanansidhe gave a dramatic sigh and picked up her cigarette holder, sucking on it with pursed lips. “I was just getting to the climax, darling,” she sighed, blowing out a blue panther that bounded over my head. “You’re probably a horror to take to the movies, aren’t you?”
“No more stories,” I said, standing up. “Please, just tell me. Did Titania steal my father or not?”
“No, darling.” Leanansidhe rolled her eyes. “I stole your father.”
I gaped at her. “You did! Why? Just so Titania couldn’t?”
“Exactly, dove. I’m not particularly fond of the Summer bitch, pardon my French, since the jealous shrew was responsible for my exile. And you should be grateful it was I instead of Titania who took your father. He doesn’t have a bad life, here. The Summer Queen probably would have turned him into a toad or rosebush or something similar.”
“How did you even know about it? Why did you get involved?”