Page 8 of Throne of Dreams

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“Was it scary when you fell?”

“What do they feel like?”

And then, “Can we touch them?”

Maeve blanked and sent Ceridwen a look that was nothing short of desperation.

Ceridwen took Maeve’s hand and together they knelt in front of the group of small fae. “Yes. You can touch her wings. Faerie wings are strong but sensitive. If you touch right here,” she ran one finger along the tip of Maeve’s outer feathers, “then Maeve will only feel the barest of touches.”

The same little girl looked up at her. “Is that your name?”

“Maeve,” a boy fae whispered, like her name was a reverent prayer to the goddesses.

“Yes.” Maeve smiled. “That’s my name.”

“It’s lovely,” another, older girl sighed.

The next thing Maeve knew, all the faerie children were introducing themselves and telling her all about life in Niahvess. She learned that every single one of them had a different type of magic. Some were learning to concoct healing potions while others crafted charmed jewelry. They went to school, but it was nothing like schools in the human lands. It was more of an apprenticeship, where they were taught how to hone the skills of their magic, though they did have classes on the histories of the realms. They were crafters, creators, tinkerers, and inventors. They liked to play games and eat candy. Most of them came fully into their magic by their fourteenth year. And their favorite holiday was Yuletide—which took place around the winter solstice—because of the gifts.

After hearing all about the Yuletide festivities, some parents tried to corral the children away. But Maeve found she didn’t mind answering their questions. She actually enjoyed the sense of creating a friendship, establishing a bond.

One fae girl piped up from the back. “Is it true you’re a High Princess?”

Lir’s face remained neutral, but Ceridwen’s smile was a little too bright.

Maeve sat cross-legged on the beach and propped her elbows on her knees, tucking in her wings. “What makes you think I’m a High Princess?”

The girl pointed to the crown on her head, the one she completely forgot she was wearing.

“It’s beautiful,” she said with a whimsical sigh.

Maeve grinned and lifted it off her head. “Then it’s yours.” She crafted another one easily, just as Tiernan had taught her. “I can always make more.”

To her delight, the fae children squealed.

“I want one, please!”

“Me too!”

“You’re a creator like us!”

“Can you make a sword?”

For the next hour, Maeve sat on the beach, creating faerie crowns and striking swords. She indulged the children and let them choose their own colors and designs, then created them from the wonders of imagination. Her soul magic came easier to her this time, like it was as simple as breathing. She liked to think it was because Tiernan wasn’t attacking her and forcing her to react. She wanted to think it was because she enjoyed what she was doing. Setting to work, she added glitter and initials, engraved dragons and sirens. If this was what it felt like to be magical, to see so many darling, smiling faces gazing up at her, then she wanted all of it.

“You should sell these,” a fae male, presumably a father, commented. “You’d make a fortune during Sunatalis.”

Sunatalis. She hadn’t heard of that before and looked up at Lir with questioning eyes.

“It’s an annual celebration,” he confirmed, his silver gaze kind.

“I could never.” Maeve smiled up at the male, who was setting a crown of lilies and silvery swirls upon his daughter’s head. “If it makes them happy, then I’m happy.”

He chuckled. “You know, every fae child in Niahvess will be knocking on the High King’s door asking for you.”

“Then I’ll be sure to answer.”

She finished up the last two swords and when the local Summer fae finally dispersed and headed back into the city, Maeve stood and dusted the sand from her leggings.