Rock attempted to suck air into his lungs, panting. “I meant no disrespect to ye, King o’ the Summer. But I cannot sit back an’ watch Cassidy Mason taken from her family.”
The King looked genuinely baffled. Khalistah glided to her father’s side with a sweet smile. “Do not listen to this fool, father. Unlike this Clourichaun, the Prince has been your good and loyal servant. If he seeks a simple gift I am certain you would agree that he has earned it.”
The King’s attention went to the Prince as it all came together. “Is it a human you fancy? I find that rather surprising, given your efforts the past few centuries for my daughter’s affections.”
Several of the Fae sniggered.
“I…” The Prince was still puzzled. His head swiveled toward Cassidy. “Such an urge is quite strange and unfamiliar to me, but I believe I would like to have this human.”
“Ne’er!” shouted Rock. “Take me instead! I will go!”
“Oh, my God.” Cassidy covered her mouth.
The Prince’s face contorted. “I do not want you!”
“Ye can’t take her! Ye—” The blade of grass slapped back over Rock’s mouth before he could finish and the King sighed at the trivial issue.
The FFG clapped her hands, elated. “What fun!”
“She is of magical blood,” the Summer King pointed out. “We do not have a wealth of magical humans to spare.”
“Oh, go on, Father. Do let the Prince have her!”
Martineth ran a slender finger up the King’s neck. “He has been such a good boy. And never asked for a thing.”
No! No, no, no, this could not be happening.
Rock thrashed against his bindings. I stepped closer to McKale until our arms were up against each other. I thought I might pass out from anxiety.
Brogan shifted uncomfortably and looked at the sky, which had darkened a bit as the sun dipped behind the trees.
“Er, Father,” McKale noticed it too. “Should we perhaps begin the pre-binding entertainment for our esteemed guests?”
“Fabulous idea, son!” He looked at the Summer King. “Aye, King o’ the Summer, we have prepared a video for ye to view using a sort of ‘human magic.’ Completely harmless, of course.”
“Entertainment!” said the King. “How lovely. It will give me time to think.”
Khalistah did not look pleased, but she didn’t complain. She shot me a glare that told me it wasn’t over, though.
Brogan beamed. “‘Twill only take a few minutes to prepare. Excuse us, please.” He motioned to his people. “Music!”
Brogan backed away from the group as a new round of music rose up. Cassidy never let go of Dad’s arm, and Mom took her other hand, sending a hostile glance at the Prince. He was too busy staring at Cass to notice. My parents came up behind McKale and me. Mom’s hands were cold and shaking when she removed my necklace. Dad unhooked McKale’s wires and pulled them from the backside of his shirt. The Fae, clueless about the nature of our doings, continued their conversations and watching the festivities. Rock remained in his confined place nearby while the other Clour kept to the trees, their demeanors void of any playfulness.
McKale and I turned our heads toward the technology table, watching Dad connect wires with Mom and Cass at his side. A maelstrom of emotion swirled inside me. I reached for McKale’s hand and we both held tight.
This was it.
Blue light suddenly flickered to life on the giant screen. Leprechauns gasped and clapped at the sight. Fae conversation halted as they turned toward the screen. The music stopped and the clearing was momentarily silent. My stomach tightened into a ball, pinging around inside me like an arcade game.
Please let this work!
“What a grand contraption,” the King murmured. “Quite peculiar.”
Brogan addressed the King. “We’ve recently found ourselves in a fearful bind. Please accept my apologies ahead of time for any offense occurred from this show, King of Summer. That is not our intention. Ye have ever been gracious to our kind, and I can only hope ye’ll understand when ye see it fer yerself.”
Once again, the King looked utterly confused. Brogan turned abruptly and strode away.
I held on to McKale’s hand for dear life. His eyes found mine and we shared a mingling of hope and love that clashed with fear and worry.
A loud, muffled sound burst from the speakers and everyone in the clearing jumped then laughed at themselves. Dad adjusted the volume as darkened images appeared on the screen—the back of the bronzed Prince as we followed him down the dim tunnel.
Yes!
I let go of McKale’s hand to hug his arm. His video and audio worked! He grinned at the screen. All around us Fae and Leprechaun speculated over what they were seeing.
“…appears to be the Prince,” a Fae girl said.
“Why, it’s Faerie!” another exclaimed. “However is this possible?”
“What is this?” asked the FFG, her voice thick with suspicion.
The King raised a hand to shush his entourage, his rapt attention on the screen.
Dad gave me a discreet thumbs-up and I beamed at him. But it wasn’t over yet. Not by far. We’d made our way over a giant hurdle, but more were in our path. Our fate rested on the King and his daughter’s reactions to the video.
The Leprechaun were silent as images of human pets filled the screen. The Fae were fascinated; all except the FFG, who wore a mask of dread as realization began to dawn. If we’d somehow captured all of this, then that meant we’d captured the events to come as well. Her head swiveled to McKale and me, eyes flashing an arctic white. The patch of grass beneath her feet shriveled in a miniature version of the effect her Father had. I clutched McKale’s arm harder.
When it got to the part where we followed Khalistah away from her court, she cried out.
“Make them stop this nonsense at once, Father! This is unseemly. They wish to make a fool of me!”
He gave her a withered expression as if she were a child interrupting his nightly program.
“They have managed to capture things exactly how they are, dearest Princess. Do you find the truth so unseemly?”
“I question their intentions, Father. Make it stop!” she demanded. She moved to stand in front of him with her hands on her hips.
The King sat up straighter and the sun was covered over by a momentary storm cloud. “I will not. Stand down and mind yourself.”
The Princess appeared taken aback, as if not used to being scolded. But the King’s word was final and she shot me one last hate-filled glance.
“It is not utterly—” Khalistah mumbled, but her words, her attempted lies, died on her lips. “They have somehow—”
Her father ignored her.
It didn’t take long until we came to the part of the video where Khalistah lost her temper, revealing her ultimate plan and then altering the Prince’s memory. She lifted her head and squared her petite shoulders, even as those around her sucked in breaths of admonishment and a few Fae laughed at her desire to have McKale. But their reactions did not matter. It was the King I watched. His face had gone hard and his back was rigid. By the end of the video the entire field of grass crackled dry beneath us. The tall grasses of the field tipped back, lying dead as if blown by a lethal wind.
Dad turned off the video and every eye settled on the Summer King.
“Father,” the FFG began. “It is not…” Again her tongue seemed to swell at the attempted lie and she brought a creamy hand to her throat.
The King stood with grace and his light blue robes swirled around him as if tiny tornadoes flanked his body.
He looked directly at McKale and I. “Have you somehow altered reality and replicated Faerie and its occupants?”