As if to illustrate her point, the fae snatched her shimmery-blue javelin from where it leaned against one wall. She spun it around so fast it made a whooshing sound.
“But why do you need me?” Elora reached into her hair, drawing her fingers over the two feathers tied there. She had one from Soren that would protect her from accidental danger. She had another from Brannick that would enhance any skills she had. But she didn’t even have her sword with her. Neither of the feathers seemed particularly useful at the moment. “How could I possibly help you?”
The silver in Lyren’s eyes burst with light. “I just need a story. You can even tell the same story you told me when you first arrived in Faerie, the one about your parents when they lived in the castle in the mortal realm.”
Flips turned in Elora’s stomach as she drew her eyebrows together. “A story? What’s going on?”
Lyren shook her head side to side, faster each time. “I just received word from Queen Noelani about…” She gulped. “Perhaps it is time for you to see anyway.”
The twinkling of the sprites above became easier to hear when no other sound filled the room. Elora gulped.
“Please.” Lyren flinched the moment the word left her lips.
Elora remembered when she had said thank you to Lyren after the fae had given Elora a special shell. Saying such words required a gift be given in return. Did Faerie have similar rules for when someone said please?
Lyren stepped forward, now grasping both of the shells hanging from her neck. “I will owe you a debt if you agree, but please. Help me.”
Whether a good idea or not, Elora wasn’t about to sit around and waste her time while she was in a magical realm. Not when she had so much left to explore. With a stiff nod, she agreed.
No sooner had she made the gesture than Lyren waved her hand through the air. Her Faerie door swirled with waves of foamy white and bright blue. The smell of salt and sand drifted through it. Even stepping through it felt like walking over a sandy ocean shore.
Elora expected a similar sight to meet her on the other side.
It didn’t.
Instead, decaying palm trees rotted from the inside out. The sand beneath their feet had hardened like textured glass. An ocean with too-thick water bubbled before them. Salty air ruffled around them, but the salt was too strong. Too heavy. It brought the bitter taste of sickness to rest on her tongue.
Though Elora curled up her lip at the sight, Lyren grimaced. Her shoulders shook. With each breath, she brought one hand closer to her neck until it wrapped around it. Her head jerked with several shakes. She turned to Elora, desperation etched onto every feature.
Pointing to the crusty and hard ground, Lyren opened her mouth. “This is the very spot where I used to meet my mermaid friend, Waverly.”
At the mention of the name, the water rippled and shook. Soon, a magnificent mane of blue and green hair broke over the surface. The body that followed had dark skin tinged with blue. Her black and green eyes sunk deep into her head with dark circles beneath them.
“You must go, my friend,” the mermaid said to Lyren. “We have tried every story we can think of against this decay. It will not back down.”
Lyren reached for the mermaid’s hand, clasping her own around it tight. “I brought a new story.”
With that, Lyren turned to Elora. She didn’t say another word. She just gave an expectant nod.
Swallowing, Elora reached both arms over her stomach. “I don’t understand. How can a story help?”
“Please.”
The mermaid flinched when Lyren spoke. Ignoring her, the fae stepped away from the water and closer to Elora. “Please just tell your story. It will be stronger coming from someone who has lived it.”
The words to the story swam in Elora’s mind. Her parents had told the story so many times in her life, she probably could have spoken about it in her sleep. Her father and mother lived at the castle. Both of them worked for the king, her father as a swordsmith, her mother as a musician. They fell in love. But her mother feared what castle life would be like for their future children. Her mother dreamed of a life different from what they had experienced in the castle. So, they moved away to the country and raised their family there. Her parents had always told the story like it was the most romantic thing in the world.
Maybe it was because Elora had never found that story particularly romantic, or maybe Faerie itself knew that story wasn’t the one, but a different story entered her mind now.
Without thinking about it, she stepped forward and began the tale. “When I was a young girl, only five years old, my mother’s belly grew bigger than a bucket. She was going to have another baby. My father hoped it would be a boy. My mother hoped it would be a boy. My younger sister, Chloe, claimed she knew it was a boy. If it wasn’t a boy, it would be much more difficult for our father to provide for us. My mother was very sick. They knew it would be their last child. So, everyone hoped and wished and prayed that it would be a boy.”
At some point, Elora had dropped her hands to her side. She pinched the fabric of her skirt on either side of her, almost as if she was about to lift it to curtsy. “But I didn’t want it to be a boy.”
Without any warning at all, a lump filled Elora’s throat. As she touched the skirt her mother had given her, the memory of her parents’ death did everything it could to push its way to the front of her mind. After a hard swallow, she shoved it back again. She used the story to smother it.
“When the baby was born, everyone held their breaths. My mother’s sickness nearly took her life, but she survived. The baby was healthy and strong and cried with the lilt of a nightingale. And she wasn’t a boy. My baby sister, Grace, stole all our hearts. But my heart was happiest of all because I knew something no one else wanted to admit. Now my father would teach me the things I had been begging to learn. Things that only boys were supposed to know. Now that my father knew he’d never have a son, he’d finally stop waiting, and he’d teach me.”
The enchantments Prince Brannick had placed on Elora were still in place, which prevented her from talking about her sword skill in any way. She had been prepared for it. The end of the story came out vague, but she still managed to tell it. Emotion burned in her chest while the memory sparked like a fire within.
It hurt. Her sisters were still in the mortal realm, but at least they had the fancy dresses and opulent jewelry from Faerie. And Brannick had promised he could return Elora to the exact same time and day she had left the mortal realm.
Her sisters were safe. They had money in case they needed it. They wouldn’t even miss Elora no matter how long she stayed in Faerie. But it didn’t stop her from missing them.
She swallowed again.
A single tear slipped down her cheek. When the tear splashed onto the crusty sand, purple steam bloomed above it in the shape of wildflowers. A gentle breeze dispersed the steam, sending it over the sand and over the water.
Everything the steam touched glowed with a bright light. So much light filled the area around them that it became difficult to see. When the light began to dim, an entirely different view lay before them.
Lush palm trees fluttered in a gentle wind. Clear, sparkly water waved in the dusky night sky. The sand had turned brown and soft. Even Waverly’s eyes looked less sunken than before.