Part 4 (2/2)
”Summoned? Who summoned you, and what awaits other than more snotty elves and that forest G.o.d? You're the best thing that's happened here so far.”
Coyote stared at her for a moment. ”You may not be so thrilled if the elves discover me here. I'll try to keep out of sight.”
Knot, who'd been asleep on the pillow next to hers, woke up and did a kitty double take when he saw Coyote. The two looked at each other carefully; then Knot nodded, walked to the edge of the bed, and touched noses with Coyote.
For Knot, that was the equivalent of a wild lovefest. Keelie tried not to be jealous. Who wanted a shape-changing fairy cat to love her?
”Everyone get to bed. We've got a huge day ahead of us.” Keelie crawled back under the covers. Knot settled at her feet, and Coyote turned around four times on the carpet next to her before sinking into a tight Coyote curl. Keelie fell asleep, relieved that she had one more ally. Something was up in this forest, and so far her friends here were few When she woke up again, it was still dark but she knew it was morning. The growling she heard was her stomach, not Coyote, who was still asleep, looking innocent.
She, Sean, and Elia were expected for breakfast downstairs, but even though she was starving, Keelie was dreading it. Facing Elia would be the first challenge. The elf girl had sounded heartbroken last night, but Keelie could just guess how much Elia would resent a show of sympathy. Not to mention how hard it would be to cough up any, since Elia had been Princess Obnoxious ever since they arrived.
Keelie dressed quickly in corduroy jeans and a sweater. Coyote stretched and yawned, then thumped his tail on the floor.
”Think we can find food now?”
”With any kind of luck,” Keelie answered. She brushed her short hair, then swatted the cat-shaped lump under the rich, leaf-embroidered quilt.
”Up and at 'em, kitty. You'll probably see some other real live fairies today.” At least, she hoped so. They were here to do a job, and hanging out with Elia's chilly relatives wasn't getting it done.
The lump humped up, then stretched almost flat, then Knot's head appeared outside of the covers, fur sticking up.
Keelie laughed. ”Bed head!” She held out the brush. ”Come here and I'll groom you.”
Knot glared at her, then licked his paw and ran it over his head twice.
Keelie shrugged. ”I could have done it better, and without spit. See if I ever offer again.” She opened the bedroom door and looked around the hallway. Empty. ”I guess breakfast is downstairs.” She crossed and knocked at Sean's door, glancing toward Elia's room. Her door was open. Keelie slipped over to it and pushed the door open slowly. Behind her, Coyote slipped down the stairs.
”Hey, come back,” she hissed.
Coyote didn't answer. She turned back to Elia's room, which seemed to be empty.
”Elia? You here?” Elia's bed was unmade and a long pink gown lay in a puddle of silk on the floor. Figured. Elf girl probably got tired of waiting for the servants to serve her breakfast in bed. Was that what she'd expected? She'd been independent back home and at the Ren Faires they'd worked together. Maybe ”together” was too strong a word for merely occupying the same two acres of medieval-style fun; Elia would hang with the other beautiful elf girls, and Keelie would work her b.u.t.t off.
Strong hands cupped her shoulders, and she squeaked in surprise.
”Sorry.” Sean gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. His grin said that he wasn't sorry at all. ”Did you manage to stay warm last night?”
”Barely. Of course, I had Knot with me.” She turned, then stopped, chest to chest with Sean.
He smiled down at her, then glanced at the oversized pumpkin fluffball, now headed toward the stairs. ”Looks like he knows where the food is.”
”Always. Shall we follow him?”
He sighed. ”Because you have a job to do, I know.”
Keelie laced her arms around his waist and pressed herself against him. ”Because we have a job to do.” She dropped her arms.
”Any luck getting in contact with your dad?” Sean asked.
”No. It's the weirdest thing. I'm going to ask Terciel if he knows what might be causing the blockage.”
Knot led them through the first floor to a room at the back of the building. Keelie looked at the bare stone walls and spartan furnis.h.i.+ngs. If a person could learn about a house's inhabitants from the furnis.h.i.+ngs and decor, this place screamed ”unimaginative and boring.” The dining room held a long table (fir) with tall, stiff wooden chairs around it. Coyote was nowhere in sight, thank goodness.
Three of the seats were occupied. Miszrial sat at the head, with Elia next to her, shooting resentful glances her way. At the other end of the table, Terciel had stopped eating to nod at Sean and Keelie.
”Good morrow. We did not wake you, to allow you to rest. You will not be with us long enough to follow our ways.”
”Our thanks,” Sean said solemnly, bowing his head. Keelie bowed too, but she only moved forward a little. She'd reserve her bows for people who deserved it. She reached out and touched a chair. Fir as well; the wood of choice up here.
Elia said nothing, her eyes on her untouched plate. Breakfast at the elven village seemed to consist of sticks and twigs. Keelie would starve before she got home. Wide, shallow stone dishes on the center of the table held intricately arrayed vegetation.
Keelie tried to smile. ”Looks like yummy stuff.”
”We care about our health.” Elia raised her chin.
Lord Terciel looked at Elia and she quickly dropped her gaze. Keelie was torn between wanting to defend Elia and asking if they could give her lessons on how to get the same reaction.
The Council head turned his icy blue stare to Keelie. ”Sit, please.”
Keelie took the chair closest to him, and Sean sat to her left.
”First, the ceremony of the winter leaf's pa.s.sing and the budding of spring.” He motioned toward Miszrial, who held her hands out, palms up, and began to sing in a weird, twisty language.
Elia stared at her, then raised her eyebrows at Keelie. This must be a solemn moment, but Keelie could have sworn that Elia was stifling a laugh. Elia quickly looked back down at her plate.
Miszrial stopped singing and looked at Keelie expectantly.
”Urn, that was lovely.”
”You're supposed to sing the next verse,” Elia whispered, face still down.
Keelie felt a sharp pain through her right sock. Knot, with perfect timing, as usual. Before she could kick him out of the way, she felt the bhata, like fingertips on a drumhead, all around them, louder and louder. The elves looked at her, expressions bland. Couldn't they feel it? But no, the elves didn't see the lesser fae.
The bhata drummed, and the green sap magic of the trees filtered into her head, and suddenly Keelie knew the song, the ancient song that thanked the trees for their leaves, welcomed the buds in spring, rejoiced in the dance of color that preceded the long winter sleep. The bhata's drumming stopped.
Keelie opened her eyes, although she didn't remember closing them. Miszrial and Terciel nodded solemnly, and Saliel served them tea in small stone bowls. Elia was staring at her, mouth open.
A glance toward Sean showed him just as astounded.
”What?” she whispered, smiling her thanks to the elf for the tea. At least it looked like tea.
”You were singing,” he whispered. ”In ancient Elvish.”
She would have laughed, except that she could see it was no joke.
”You honor us, Lady Keliel,” Terciel said. The old elf looked a little teary. ”Long has it been since the ancient words were sung in these walls. As your hosts, we may grant you a boon.”
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