Give Me (Wyrd and Fae #1)(47)

“Aubrey, dance with us!” one cried. Donall recognized her voice from the fireplace. Her white-blond hair was short and ragged, and she wore a collar-like necklace of woven white cord and beads.

“My pleasure, Cissa.” A lean, bare-chested fairy stood at the edge of the circle. His hair as yellow as straw stuck out at all angles. Golden wings sprouted on his back, and he flew up join Cissa. He wore a similar chocker, the color of rope, and more ornate. “And you, Glory.” He held out a gentlemanly hand to the other female fairy.

Glory’s golden hair fell gently over her shoulders and around her breasts. Her nipples were clearly visible through the filmy material she wore—as was the dark patch between her legs. She had large eyes and thick lips painted garish red, yet she seemed shy. She was the most beautiful creature Donall had ever seen.

“Take care.” The warning came from first voice in the fireplace, the one who’d claimed some sort of victory. Its owner rose to his feet within the circle. He was tall and muscular, of aristocratic bearing, with sleek dark hair pulled off his face like an American Indian and secured by two silver sticks. “I don’t want to disturb Lord Dumnos.”

He wore a skin-tight waistcoat and no shirt. His necklace was different than the others. A simple black collar with a bright-cut stone at its center that caught and reflected moonlight like a diamond.

They all wore collar-like necklaces of different designs. Straw-haired Aubrey’s was the most elaborate, extending over his bare chest and loaded with beads of glass and stone. An expression of his self-opinion, Donall supposed.

“You’re not yet our king, Dandelion,” Aubrey said to the dark-haired fairy. “You haven’t completed the dare. Perhaps it’s as I feared.” He sighed without sincerity. “You don’t have what it takes to challenge Idris.”

Dandelion glared at Aubrey and emptied the liquid contents of a leather bag into a magnificent glass cup. The others stopped dancing, stopped piping, stopped drumming. Donall would lay bets the clear liquid wasn’t water.

“Say the words.” Cissa circled Dandelion and kissed his cheek fondly then flew back up to Glory. They linked arms, a delightful picture floating in the air, silhouetted against the moon.

“Say the words. Say the words.” The fairies chanted, quieting as Dandelion made eye contact with them one by one. When they were silent, he tossed the bag aside and raised the cup. Moonlight illuminated its embedded jewels of blue, green and red and shone on Dandelion’s long hair—which wasn’t brown or black but very dark chestnut red.



“By the fae cup I swear,

And by dandelion wine,

To claim the fae crown

Ever meant to be mine.”



He drank, and the stillness was like a sacred silence. Aubrey watched intently. His lips curled with satisfaction as Dandelion finished the draught.

With the last swallow Cissa cried, “Hurray!” She and Glory flew above Dandelion and threw dust over him in a sparkling shower. Donall couldn’t see where they got the stuff. It seemed to shoot like magic from their fingers. The music started up again. “Come, dance!” Cissa and Glory circled three times, tossing more fairy dust that exploded like tiny fireworks over the players.

Dandelion’s wings sprouted, huge and dark. They unfolded with masculine vigor, and he lifted off the roof. Donall expected the fairy to make a grand sweep over the heads of the others, a victory lap or some hubristic demonstration. Instead, Dandelion lurched and bumped against Glory’s wings. She cried out in surprise—and in pain.

“Slurry, Gloweye—I mean I’m sorry, Glory.” Dandelion’s face paled. He teetered in the air, unbalanced, and shot an accusing glance at Aubrey. The smirking fairy didn’t seem at all surprised by Dandelion’s awkwardness. In fact, his smirk had turned to jubilation.

Donall leaned forward for a better view and lost his own balance. He cried out as he smashed his knee against the wall’s edge.

“Someone’s here.” Glory’s gaze met Donall’s, and a jolt of desire whipped through him. “Fly away!”

“No!” Donall cried. He couldn’t bear the thought of her flying away. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. He had to know her. Touch her. Kiss her.

She smiled, and he was lost in her gaze. So kind. So full of promise. Her lips were red and full and luscious. She touched her throat and disappeared.

He ran to the fairy circle.

“Everyone fly!” Aubrey gave Donall a wicked leer, touched his throat, and was gone.

Amid a flutter of wings and strange pops and flashes, Donall spun around at the roof’s edge. They were all gone, but at his feet something gleamed. He picked up the glass cup, stunning in the moonlight.

“Ach!” The scream came from just beyond the roof’s edge where Dandelion hovered. He was at a listing angle, his eyes wide with rage. His wings beat angrily against the air.

With one hand, Donall hugged the beautiful prize to his chest. With the other, he desperately dug the crumbs of holy cake out of his robe pocket and threw them in the direction of the angry drugged fairy.

At the same moment green streaks of light shot through the night sky, and Donall let loose a whoop. The northern lights! He locked gazes with the mad Dandelion. It was a sign. He was in luck. The lights meant Brother Sun and Sister Moon meant Donall to have the cup. He tossed another handful of holy cake crumbs.