At past festivals, we had a long-standing tradition of being two of the most watched combatants, and over the centuries, we’ve probably earned the same number of wins and losses because we’re evenly matched. It’s one of the things I love about the Light Fae in comparison to the human world. The women are revered as equals to the men. We’re as strong and swift and smart. Ronan never pouts if he loses to me, just as I don’t to him. At the festival, there’s a truce in place, meaning we can’t kill each other, but we sure as hell will do everything possible to beat the other down.
Again, my mind wanders to what effect our time together a few weeks ago will have on us. Admittedly, I don’t hate him as much as I usually do. For one long night, Ronan became my lover and helped me through that vicious, drug-induced sexual psychosis. Truth be told, in hindsight, I could have probably worked my way through it on my own, but it would have been torture trying to do so. Ronan’s cock and tongue worked so much better than my fingers or a vibrator could have, although he used several of those on me, too.
I have never been fucked in so many different ways.
So thoroughly.
With so much dedication put into getting me off so I could come down off the drug.
Ronan laid claim to every part of my body, and I mean every part. It’s something no other lover of mine has done, and I savored every minute of it.
In fact, I started coming down off the drug long before I left the bed to take a shower.
Hours before.
It’s my shameful secret, which I can’t even stand admitting to myself.
I kept up the ruse, hoping he wouldn’t know that I just didn’t want it to stop. And when the drug was out of my system, but we still continued to join again and again, it was better than anything I’d ever experienced.
I’m not a romantic, probably fueled by the knowledge that part of Brevalian Light Fae history is learning the hard lesson that true love is for chumps. But if we hadn’t had that history, he would definitely be someone I could see myself mating with for life.
I mean… for the sex alone.
Sadly… it’s impossible. For no matter what we might want, we were nothing more than we’ve always been after he left the next day.
Enemies with only hate for each other in our hearts.
CHAPTER 5
Ronan
While the vast majority of Light Fae choose to live in Faere, it is absolutely not to my tastes. Nimeyah was lucky enough to get her hands on a nice-sized piece of the meteor stone, and she created a realm she hoped would be far more beautiful than the earth one. To her, that meant lots of vivid colors, so the grass is just too green, and the purple trees are too ostentatious. I could go on and on about how the scenery is an abomination to my eyes—like Nimeyah’s gaudy crystal castle—but it’s not worth it. I come here once every hundred years for a few days of competitions, good food, and potent drink.
I hang out with my family, enjoy thrashing other Light Fae in the competition arena, and make connections with my roots. But then it’s back to the Earth realm for me where I much prefer to live my life.
I spent last night in Brevala with my uncle Geseph in the Bluffs. My parents are travelers who live nowhere in particular. Sometimes, they settle in the Earth realm, while others stay in Faere or different realms altogether. It’s what immortals should do with their unnaturally long lives because settling somewhere for too long can get incredibly boring.
Brevala—especially when compared with Faere—is an incredibly beautiful realm created with a care for authenticity. It mirrored some of Earth realms most stunning scenery with soaring snow-peaked mountains, rolling green hills, lazy rivers, crystal lakes, and endless fields of wildflowers. Whereas Nimeyah magically created her own species of creatures, Brevala’s creators brought over wild and domesticated animals, as well as crop seeds, from the Earth realm. It had been their home for millennia so why wouldn’t they want the comfort of familiarity?
I suppose Nimeyah must think Brevala is boring while Brevalians think Faere is too fake.
The Festival of Creation is held every hundred years in Faere, and it’s Nimeyah, Queen of the Light Fae’s, edict. She demands all her subjects attend regardless of where we live, but, honestly, not everyone obeys. There are too many of us spread way too far and wide for her to know if someone didn’t show up.
I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the fact my family likes to make a big showing, and again, the competitions and games are a fun way to keep my superior warrior skills sharp, which I just can’t do in the Earth realm.
The games start tomorrow, but it’s about socializing with other clans, noble families, and the like tonight. While Nimeyah insisted on a truce with the Brevala Meadowlanders, they are the one clan we choose to ignore.
Tents are spread across miles of fields outside the castle grounds, and an arena was magically erected to the east upon a flat butte. Vendors set up stalls to sell food delicacies, magical charms, and the highest trends in Faere fashion, which look overly ridiculous. God bless the United States of America’s penchant for good old-fashioned denim and cotton t-shirts.
I’ve been walking among the tents, interacting with other Light Fae I haven’t seen in decades or even centuries. Some live here in Faere while others reside in the Earth realm. As the evening wears on, I have several beers as the festivities start to get more bawdy by the second.
One thing can be said about the fae—whether they’re light or dark…
They love to have sex, and it is never frowned upon.
Nor is it something that needs to be engaged in privately at festivals. Around pretty much any tent corner, I can spot someone going at it in the shadows. Some of the less evolved fae even end up having orgies right out in the open as the hours wear on and the alcohol continues to flow.
As for me, I’m sure I’ll be partaking in a bit of it all at some point, but for now, I want to hang out with my clan. The Bluff Dwellers are a close-knit community, and I don’t get to Brevala to visit often enough.
Our tent is easily recognizable by our green and silver colors, with a large flag flying at the top post with our clan’s crest—a stag’s head and two iron swords crossed.
The walls of the tent are rolled up, and there are tables set up inside where people are eating meals, drinking potent cocktails, and listening to music.
I see my great aunt Lelita in one corner, her table filled with younger fae children. Their eyes are riveted on her, and I know she’s telling some amazing story. She has a gift for words, and I meander over to listen.
“Now you all know the story of how we became Light Fae,” she says dramatically, looking each child in the eye. Lelita is much older than Brevala, which was created about four thousand years ago when the magical meteor came to earth. She was there at its inception, and though she’s ancient by most standards, she appears to be no more than thirty years old. Such is the gift of immortality.
All the kids nod because it’s a history they learn early.
“But,” she says in a low voice, “do you know how Brevala came to be the divided realm it is today and why the Meadowlanders are our sworn enemy?”
Some kids nod while others shake their heads. It’s also important history which is usually not formally taught until the kids are older, but Lelita clearly doesn’t care. It’s important to indoctrinate early so there is no questioning.