Faerie Path #6: The Charmed Return (6 page)

“Dad?”

She had been beside him for close to half a minute, and he hadn’t looked at her once, nor said a single word. His hands were pushed deep into his pockets and his head was down, caught up in his own thoughts.

The lawn was churned by tire tracks. The back fence broken. Physical proof that Faerie was real—that Anita Palmer was also Princess Tania Aurealis.

“The roses are doing well this year,” her father murmured. “This particular strain is called Deep Secret. It’s a hybrid tea rose. I bought it for the fragrance.” His voice cracked with emotion. “You always loved the smell of roses when you were a child.”

She stooped toward the dark red roses and breathed in deeply so the powerful, sweet scent filled her head. “I still do,” she said gently. She reached out to him, tugging his reluctant hand out of his pocket and twining her fingers with his. “You hate all this, don’t you? All this Faerie stuff?”

“I hate what it does to you,” he said. “You don’t remember how it was tearing you apart. This is the first time since your birthday that you’ve been yourself. And now . . .” He choked and was unable to continue.

She squeezed his hand, folding her other hand around his arm and pressing close against his side. A thick lump filled her throat.

There were tears in his voice when he spoke again. “I’m afraid I’ll lose you,” he said. “I’m afraid you’re going to go away from me and never come back.”

“I’ll never do that.”

“You can’t make that promise. You don’t
know
.”

“Well, that’s certainly true.” Anita sighed. “In fact, apart from Jade, I’m the only one here who doesn’t know a single thing about Faerie.” She looked into his eyes. “You and Mum have been there, Dad! You’ve seen stuff I’ve totally forgotten. It’s all just words to me right now—but you know it’s real.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “I’m part of their world, Dad, even though I can’t remember it. They came and found me because they know I can help. I can’t let them down.”

He smiled bleakly. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

She clung to him. “This whole thing is unbelievably scary, Dad. I need you on my side so that I can do whatever it takes to help them.” She looked into his face. “I’m not a big hero, Dad—I’m totally freaked—but a whole country full of people needs me.” She could almost have laughed! Saying it out loud didn’t help at all. It still sounded insane.

Her father looked at her. “So? You want my blessing? Is that what you need from me?”

She squeezed his hand even more tightly. “Please.”

“Then you have it,” he said.

“Thank you. Thank you
so
much!”

Muffled cries sounded from the house. Edric appeared at the back door and called to them.

“It’s Zara. She’s awake!”

Chapter IX

Anita ran in from the garden.

Zara was standing in the kitchen doorway, flanked by Rathina and Edric, her flowing Faerie gown a stark contrast to their everyday clothes. Her face was drained of color, but her eyes had a new light in them.

“Come in, Zara,” said Mrs. Palmer, pulling out a chair from the table. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel newborn. . . .” murmured Zara, sitting down.

“May I get you a drink?” Edric suggested, moving to the fridge.

Zara nodded. “By your courtesy, Master Chanticleer.”

Anita was aware of an air of suppressed excitement in the room, as though everyone was being careful not to overwhelm the pale princess with their attention.

Anita stepped forward, and Zara seemed to notice her for the first time.

“Tania!” she said, and her voice was strong and happy. “I have seen you so often in my mind—but I never dared hope to embrace you more!” She jumped up and ran into Anita’s arms.

“I don’t remember you. . . .” Anita said awkwardly, folding her arms stiffly around the girl. “I’m sorry.” She gave Edric an uneasy look over Zara’s back.

“It matters not,” said Zara. “You were in the same pickle when first you came into Faerie. And a merry time we had of it convincing you of your birthright then!”

“Indeed,” Rathina added, smiling. “Most stubborn you were!”

“There is no need of persuasion this time,” said Zara. “Be seated, sister mine, and we shall see what we shall see.”

“I’m sorry?” Anita said.

Zara laughed. “Sit! Sit! I would run barefoot through your mind.” Quite gently, but purposefully, she pressed Anita into a chair. “I will return your memories to you, Tania. I have new skills now that I am . . .” She paused, her face clouding for a moment. “But no matter. Let’s to business.”

Anita looked anxiously at Edric.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, resting the forgotten glass of milk on the table and crouching at her side. “And if this works . . .”

“I’ll remember?”

He nodded.

Jade looked dubious. “Is this going to be like one of those TV shows where some guy hypnotizes people into thinking they’re chickens?” she asked.

“Hush,” Rathina murmured. “I know not what is coming.”

The kitchen became silent. Anita was aware of all eyes on her. Her father and mother were standing together at the back door, watchful but unspeaking.

Anita felt Zara’s hands come down lightly upon her head.

For a few moments nothing happened. Then Zara began very softly to sing.

As Zara sang, Anita felt warmth rippling through her from the princess’s gentle hands. It seemed to her that Zara’s voice was joined by others—soft, dulcet voices and deep, sonorous voices all singing counterpoint and descant to the aching melody until her head was filled with song.

An image poured into her mind like a flow of soft golden light. Endless green hills folding away to a blue horizon. And herself—hand-in-hand with Zara—running through the tall grass. Looking about them as they ran. Searching for something. It was an early morning and the dew was like honey on her bare feet and the singing was all around them.

“It is not enough.” Zara’s voice was a sharp knife through the song. “I cannot do this thing alone. Master Edric—take her hand now.”

Anita’s heart throbbed in her chest. A warm hand slipped into hers, and she felt enveloped in a deep love and understanding. In her vision she turned her head, seeing with a rush of joy that Edric had appeared at her side, running through the pastures with her, searching with her.

“And yet more,” said Zara. “Master Clive, Mistress Mary—lay your hands upon your daughter—she is in need of your love.”

Anita felt hands coming to rest on her arms. From the blue infinity of the sky, her Mortal mother and father appeared beside her—running with her. Her heart filled with happiness.

“Sister—she needs more. And you, Mortal girl, come, join the dance, let none hold back when all are needed.”

Suddenly Rathina was there at her side in her vision, and Jade, also, staring around as though stunned to find herself in such a place.

Is this real, then? I thought it was all in my head. . . .

They were no longer running now. They were upon a hilltop crowned with huge blue crystals that threw out a vibrant light. It was night—a night of huge and pulsing stars. They were in a ring, hand-in-hand, dancing in a circle among the shining stones. The air was like spice and the grass was alive beneath their feet.

Anita could feel the love of her family rushing through her. The love of her mother and father, the love of Jade and her Faerie sisters; and deepest of all, like a warm hand that cradled her heart, the love of her own Edric.

Faster and faster they whirled, forming a chain that threaded in and out among the great blue crystal stones.

Then there was no ground beneath her feet. She was soaring upward through the night.

She was winged, alone, suspended in darkness, surrounded by stars.

Every star was a memory, rushing at her in a hail of sharp light, pouring into her eyes, filling her mind.

She saw a vision of a solemn-eyed, brown-haired girl with a sighing voice. “He had a mausoleum of white stone built to honor our mother. . . .”

Herself, kneeling on a forest path, clutching a leather-bound book.

That same sad voice, but terrified now. “I am in a small dark room, in a hovel, lying in a bed with filthy sheets over me. . . .”

She saw Zara and herself being helped into a rowboat by a man in sky blue livery. A silver galleon lay at anchor in a wide bay.

A freckled girl with red-gold hair cut at the shoulder. “Are there cows in the Mortal World?” she was asking.

Edric’s voice. “I’ve got house keys and some coins on me. . . .”

A riptide of gray unicorns with mauve manes and purple eyes.

A withered heath. A battle. Herself standing, a sword in her fist. The memories were coming at her too fast. There were too many—too insistent—heaping into her mind until she was lost under the weight of them.

Screaming and clawing, she felt herself drowning in memories.

The last thing she saw was a great whaleback of white rock jutting out into a crashing ocean. . . .

Tania was in a boat on a wide dark river. It was night. She knew there were other people with her, although she could not see them. She could hear uneasy horses. The stamp of a hoof. A snort in the darkness at her back. Was this a dream or another memory?

A woman stood before her. An ageless woman in a dark cloak. A woman with a sweet, round-cheeked face and clear blue eyes.

The woman spoke gently. “Do not fear. You are strongest where you are split—and I see your many selves, plucked out of time, coming together to heal you when your need is greatest.” The woman released Tania’s hand, and she and the boat and the river began to drift away.

“No, wait!” Her own voice was shrill in her ears. “What does that mean? I don’t understand!”

She was being held down, stifled in a dark place. Panic erupted through her as she struggled and fought, unable to escape, unable to breathe.

There was a pale light above her. She clawed frantically in the darkness. She had to get to the light. She
had
to.

Chapter X

Tania Aurealis, princess of Faerie, seventh daughter of King Oberon and Queen Titania, awoke in the gloom of her bedroom in North West London.

She sat upright, gasping for breath. Sharp, thin lines of light shone at the edges of the curtains that covered her window. She was fully dressed, save for shoes, and she was in her bed under a thin white duvet patterned with pink roses.

The Faerie part of her had come alive again—and she remembered everything.

Everything.
From the moment when she had been sitting in her hospital bed reading the story of her own life from the book that had been blank pages only a few minutes previously. From that to the moment upon the white stone in Tirnanog when the sea had raged and the sky had grown dark and the Divine Harper’s outstretched finger had touched the center of her forehead and her mind had exploded.

Scrambling out of bed, she glanced at the bedside clock: 7:03. Just after seven o’clock in the evening.

She ran to the door and flung it open. She could hear subdued voices from the kitchen.

Racing down the stairs, she arrived breathlessly at the kitchen doorway.

They were all there, gathered at the table. Her Mortal mother and father; her two Faerie sisters; her best friend, Jade—and the love of her life, Edric. Her darling Edric!

The voices stopped and every face turned to her.

“Anita . . . ?” her father asked.

“Tania?” Rathina ventured cautiously.

She laughed. “Yes!” She gasped. “Both!” She stepped into the room. “I remember everything. The Faerie part of me has come back!”

Edric stood up and she stepped into his arms, holding him, closing her eyes, and breathing him in. She could hear other voices, and feel hands on her shoulders and arms.

She pulled away from Edric and turned to embrace Rathina and Zara.

Poor Rathina!
Doomed by love—fated never to be absolved of the terrible deeds done by her under Gabriel Drake’s thrall.

And Zara, murdered on Salisoc Heath. But alive again now!

“Thank you,” she said, hugging Zara even more fiercely. “Thank you so much!”

Almost in tears, she turned to her mother and father; their arms enfolded her and she held them tightly.

Her mother gazed deep into her eyes. “What would you like us to call you, sweetheart?”

Tania drew back a little, looking at her father. “Would it be bad if I said Tania?”

He smiled. “Not at all,” he said. “Tania it is.” He touched her cheek with his fingertips. “‘What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’”

She took his hand, recognizing the quote from
Romeo and Juliet
.

“Smart man, Shakespeare,” added her father.

Jade pushed forward and threw her arms around her.

“So, who are you now?” she asked. “Are you
you
, or are you
her
?”

“I’m both,” said Tania.

“I knew it! Total schizoid!”

Tania laughed. “Not really . . .”

She turned again to Zara, taking both her hands, gazing into her eyes.

“How?” she asked. “How can you be here?”

“It is a curious tale,” said Zara. “The story of one who stood at the gates of Albion but did not pass through into the Blessèd Realm.” She drew one hand away from Tania and reached out toward Rathina. “How my journey began, I cannot say,” she told them. “I do not remember my death.”

“I do,” murmured Rathina, taking Zara’s hand, her face pale and gaunt. “All too well.”

Zara squeezed her fingers. “Hush now,” she said. “All that passes has its purpose in the great tapestry, and you shall see that my death was not vain.”

She smiled around at the others. “I stood upon the threshold of Albion and the gates swung wide to welcome me in,” she continued, her voice as sweet as music. “But I could not go through. Something held me back. I turned and it seemed to me that I could see the realm of Faerie far, far below me, set like an emerald in the azure sea. A voice spoke to me. ‘Great perils beset the Immortal Realm—wouldst thou stretch out thy hand to bring alms to those whom thou hast left behind?’ And I said, yes, indeed I would, if I can. And the voice said, ‘Thou art dead, child of Faerie, and thou mayst not return to the land of thy birth, but these gifts I will grant thee. There is one who belongs both to Faerie and to the world of Mortals—through her shalt thou work thy wonders. Within the borders of Faerie thou may come to her only in her dreams.’”

I shall weave you gentle dreams . . .

Of course! That was why that snatch of nursery rhyme had stuck in her mind.

Tania gazed at her sister, her throat constricted and tears pricking in her eyes. “You were the Dream Weaver!”

“Indeed, I was,” said Zara. “I could not reveal my true self to you—’twould have ruined all.”

“I resented that spirit taking over my body,” said Rathina, her eyes shining. “But right glad of it am I now! Had I but known . . .”

“Never was I told the true nature of the great peril that hung over Faerie,” Zara continued, taking her sister’s hand. “I knew only that it came from the north and that it had sickness on its breath and mayhem in its heart. But the voice that spoke to me at the gates of Albion told me of the path that needed to be trod if the dread was to be thwarted. And so I slipped into Tania’s dreams and did what I could to guide her on her way. And beyond the shores of Faerie, I was able to enter Rathina’s body for a while and tell more. Always too little—but every word was a stepping-stone to quest’s end.”

“But why were you not given greater powers?” asked Rathina. “Why could you work only through hints and guesses?”

Zara’s forehead wrinkled. “Are we not to strive and contend against great evil?” she asked mildly. “Is the fight to be denied us? Nay, sister, the journey is as important as the goal—endeavor and endurance both have their parts to play in the Great Design.”

“I get it,” Jade said, frowning at Zara. “At least I think I do. You can’t just be handed this stuff on a plate, right? You can be helped along, but you have to do most of the work yourself.”

Zara smiled. “A wise Mortal, you are,” she said.

Jade blinked at her. “Oh. Uh. Thanks. . . .”

Rathina gave a sudden choked cry and threw her arms around Zara’s neck. Tania saw tears glinting on her dark lashes, and she could feel joyful tears filling her own eyes.

“It is blessèd indeed to embrace you once more, beloved sister,” said Rathina, her voice choked with emotion. “I have shed tears enough to drown entire mountains for the loss of you!”

“Then weep no more,” said Zara, kissing Rathina’s forehead. “Be comforted and open your heart to full understanding. Had I not died, your quest for enlightenment might never have been accomplished.”

“I’m not sure it was accomplished,” Tania ventured. “At least not in the way we had hoped.”

“What did the Harper tell you?” asked her father. “Did he explain how you could destroy the plague?”

Tania looked unhappily at him. “He did in a way,” she said. “But he also told me that it was impossible.”

“No!” gasped Rathina. “That cannot be. After all our toil and travails—it would be too cruel.”

Tania told them all what had passed between her and the Divine Harper on the endless golden seashore of Tirnanog. She saw the encounter vividly in her mind as she spoke.

She could hear the Harper’s resounding voice ringing out in response when she had asked him to end the plague by renewing the covenant.
“There are but two ways for this to be done. Either Oberon must come to me—or I must go to him. But I cannot enter Faerie, and the King must not leave his Realm, for if he does he will lose his throne to Lear for all time.”

And her own alarmed response:
“No! That can’t be right! That’s impossible!”
Lightning had forked across the dark sky, stabbing at the hills, tainting the air.

The Harper’s voice had slashed through the storm.
“It is not impossible. Nothing is impossible.”
Then his gaze had sparked as though there was lightning in his eyes.
“Your question is answered, Tania of Faerie, Anita of the Mortal World. Now you must give me that which was offered. You must render up the dearest wish of your heart.”

She now bowed her head. “And then I woke up in my bedroom here. And it was all gone. All forgotten . . .”

She looked up again, seeing horror in Rathina’s face and shock and confusion in the faces of Edric and Zara.

“Our father has an older brother . . . ?” said Rathina breathlessly. “I never knew. Father and Uncle Cornelius never spoke of it.”

“They didn’t know, I don’t think,” said Tania. “Their memory of Lear was taken away by the Divine Harper when the first covenant was made.”

“That Divine Harper guy sure likes wiping people’s minds!” murmured Jade. “Great party trick, but annoying all the same. What’s the point in telling Ani—in telling
Tania
all that stuff and then making her forget it?”

“It was because of the dearest wish of her heart,” said Edric. He looked at Tania. “To find out what you needed to know you had to offer up the ‘dearest wish of your heart.’ Now I understand why this happened. You did it yourself, Tania—although you didn’t mean to.”

“The dearest wish of your heart was to be Tania of Faerie,” broke in her father, staring at her with a new awareness in his face. “I never realized it meant that much to you. . . .”

“Neither did I,” Tania said. She looked at Edric. “I thought I would lose something else.”
You! I thought I would lose you, Edric!

“Now we know the true nature of our foe,” said Zara. “Of all ends to your quest, this was the furthest from my thoughts. That a son of the house of Aurealis should wreak such destruction upon his own people. ’Tis far beyond my reckoning! Deep perfidy, indeed!”

Mr. Palmer looked at Tania. “What do you intend to do?” he asked.

“I have to return to Faerie,” she replied. “I can’t do anything from here.”

“Then we must quit this land and seek the long road home,” said Rathina. “Tania, do you remember how to pass between the realms?”

Tania smiled. “Yes, it’s all here,” she said, tapping her forehead. “But I don’t think we need to leave London to do it.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “I had a dream. A
kind
of dream while I was upstairs.” She looked at Rathina and Edric. “Do you remember what Coriceil said to me when we crossed the river to Erin? She said I am strongest where I am split—and that she could see my other selves ‘plucked out of time and coming together’ to help me when I needed them.”

“Your other selves?” said Mrs. Palmer. “Oh! You mean all those poor children who died before they reached sixteen?”

Tania nodded. “I don’t know how, exactly, but I think they’ll be able to help me get back to Faerie.”

Zara’s eyes widened. “Perhaps they will!” she said. “And especially so if you call upon the Power of Seven to aid you.”

“Seven is indeed a potent number,” added Rathina, looking at Zara. “Is it possible that Tania can pluck six of her Mortal selves from the past to join with her?”

“I believe it is,” said Zara, taking Tania’s hands in hers. “You must become seven souls that are but one soul reunited. You must gather them to you, and you must use the power that flows through you to dash aside the barriers between the worlds and step into Faerie.”

“I’m sorry,” broke in Mr. Palmer. “I don’t understand. What do you mean when you say Tania needs to
gather
her past selves? How can she do that?”

“Tania’s Immortal Faerie soul came into the Mortal World five hundred years ago,” said Zara. “But her first walking between the worlds weakened her body and she fell ill and died. It was only her outer shell that perished; her Immortal soul leaped free and sought another body, another girl child about to be born.” Zara’s face creased with sadness. “The soul of a Faerie is a bright light and burns fiercely. But by misfortune or ill happenstance or sickness and disease, the children through which the soul passed died in their childhood—until there came into the world a Mortal body and spirit equal to the task of housing the soul of a Faerie princess—one who could walk between the worlds.”

Jade’s voice was full of astonishment. “So, this Faerie soul has been body-hopping for five hundred years . . . until it found Tania?”

“That is so,” said Zara. She looked questioningly at Tania. “You know the faces of some of your previous selves. Did it not seem strange that out of all of them, you are the only one to resemble Queen Titania? The only one to have the face of the sister who first walked into the Mortal World five centuries ago?”

“I never really thought about it before.” Tania swallowed. “So, I was always the
one
?”

Zara nodded. “If not you, then no one,” she said. “Yours are the spirit and the body in which all hopes and desires are housed.” She smiled into Tania’s eyes. “Alone, you do not have the power to break through the barriers set up by the Conclave of Earls. But with six of your past selves at your side, I think the walls will crack and tumble. The strength of your soul will be doubled and redoubled by your other selves, like a candle’s light reflected in a circle of mirrors.”