33. Well, Well, If It Isn’t The Consequences Of My Own Actions
34. The Bane Of My Existence
35. Forgiveness Can Be Bought With Food
36. What If I Just… Stayed?
37. What Can I Say? Emotions Ran High
38. Who Would Choose To Love A Mortal?
39. I Won’t Be Doing Any Of That
40. This Girl Is On Fire
41. No, No, No
42. Wait, What?
Pronunciation Guide
Idris - Id (like lid) -ris
Anwir - An-waa
Maelgwyn - Mihl-gwihn
Taryn - Tair-in
Celyn - Kehl-in
Tir o Gwanwyn - Ti-r oh Gwae-nwin (The Spring Court)
Tir o Haf - Ti-r oh Hav (The Summer Court)
Tir o Hydref - Ti-r oh Hu-drev (The Autumn Court)
Tir o Gaeaf - Ti-r oh Guy-av (The Winter Court)
Ymyl Cefnfor - Um-il Kevn-vor (The Witch Kingdom)
Rhodd Anfarwol - hR-or-th An-var-wol
For Rachel, who never stopped believing in Fairy Land,
and Lorna, who helped me close the rifts
1Go Camping, They Said…
If there was one thing I hated on this stupid planet, it was spiders. Actually, as of last night, I hated two things; spiders and camping. As luck would have it, those two seemed to go hand in hand.
Squinting, I peered into the shadowy depths of the cave, nerves jangling in anticipation of a many-legged, hairy monstrosity crawling out of the depths of hell. Nothing stirred, but that was no guarantee. Where spiders were concerned, it was always wise to play it safe.
As for camping, it had seemed a good idea at the time; a fun way to spend a weekend with friends, relaxing and drinking away the stresses of the last few weeks of university. And, best of all, cheap. I’d spent the last five years counting pennies as I slogged my way through veterinary school, but now, it was finally over. Graduation loomed, and then I’d be able to get a real job, earn real money, and take a real holiday. Until then, roughing it in a field was the best I could do, and with every passing hour, I regretted that decision more and more.
After a horrendous night of flapping canvas and freezing damp, followed by a brutally early start and several hours of hiking, my darkest fears were realised. The so-called Fairy Glen, the apparent highlight of our trip, was nothing more than a stagnant pond and a few dark, smelly caves. Judging by the stench of piss radiating from one damp side cavern, the glen was also home to a local tramp.
I toyed with my necklace, rubbing the pad of my thumb over the sharp point of the golden initial. A sideways A for Aliza. A character from my favourite show had worn one just like it, and for the first time in my life, I’d been glad of the unique spelling of my name when Mum and Dad had bought me the very same necklace for my twenty-first birthday. I wore it every day. Not only was it pretty and unusual, but it gave me something to fiddle with when I was nervous, like now.
“I bet you wish you were still in the tent, moisturising all that leg,” my best friend Abby drawled from where she perched on a large rock, glancing at my tanned legs which were barely covered by my scandalously skimpy denim shorts.
She knew me well enough to know I’d actually rather drain a dog’s anal glands without gloves than go into that cave. I knew her well enough to know she felt the same, even if she had chosen a different discipline and would never suffer the stench of a dog’s bottom. She would suffer the stench of the cave though. If I had to go in, I wouldn’t go alone.
Missing the point entirely, Isobel said, “She had to make sure she looked gorgeous for the fairy prince. The legend says that he’ll marry the woman who wakes him.”
My smile became fixed. If Abby was my favourite of our group of friends, Isobel was the one I barely tolerated. She was okay most of the time; a bit over-enthusiastic, a bit weird, maybe, but okay. Even if she did believe in things the rest of the population gave up around the age of seven. This weekend, she was a firm believer in fairies, which was why I’d been roped into going on this hike, to visit some magical glen. She’d spent the weekend talking non-stop about some fairy prince trapped under a sleeping curse, and that was why I could only bare my teeth at her.
“Since when have I ever done anything to impress a man, prince or not?” Never. That was the answer, unless you counted my dad, and I knew he’d be far from pleased if he could see the tiny shorts I was wearing.
I had no hope of impressing anyone today. Not even imaginary men. Not even with my long legs displayed in all their glory.
Abby hauled herself to her feet, groaning. “I reckon you’ll meet a nice man in your new practice, and then you’ll change your tune.”
“No chance,” I said with confidence, tossing my ponytail over my shoulder in a whirl of colour. Most men didn’t like my hair, bleached and dyed to an ombre rainbow of pastel shades. I happened to like my hair better than I liked the idea of a serious relationship. “I’ve got better things to think about, like my next holiday, which will absolutely not be in a field in the middle of nowhere.”
“You mean you’re not enjoying getting blisters and sweating your tits off?” Abby whispered slyly, so only I could hear.
My answering grimace told her all she needed to know, and she gave a wicked chuckle. She always laughed like a villain, which was ironic, because she was five foot nothing and the least scary person I knew. She looked as though a strong breeze might blow her away. I always felt like a hulking beast next to her, a full foot taller, and far from delicate, but when we’d met on our first day in high school, we’d clicked immediately, and been best friends ever since. If it hadn’t been for her, I might have loaded myself up into my battered old car and driven home at two this morning, rather than spend another minute in the wild. I’d been seriously tempted, but Abby and I were sharing a blow-up bed, and she’d have been terrified on her own. Besides, her regular jokes and dry comments through the long hours of survival had made it worthwhile. Almost.
