Who Gave Sleep And Who Has Taken It Away?

By Carole McDonnell

In the Malku universe, fae, merfolk, and humans live together in varying degrees of harmony. Over the millenia, through the use of fae magic, these humanoid groups have inter-married thus creating the faekind (humans with fae ancestry) and webbies (humans with merfolk ancestry.) The story takes place in the land of Hanrisor, whose original inhabitants have lived with foreign sojourners and descendants of slaves. However, the Purists have long seethed under the presence of those they consider of impure blood and the rule of aristocratic faekind. When the Creator, who formerly lived on the planet, disappears, prejudices, and social complications worse.
Rune, a faekind descendant of the fae on his aristocratic mother's side, and a descendant of the white Purist Lukov clan, has enough problems navigating his family's political divide. His mother arranges a marriage for him with Guin, a dark-skinned descendants of slaves. But before they meet, disaster ensues and the Purist clans take the opportunity to rebel against the royal family. Can love thrive in a time of rebellion? Will Rune rise up against his father without treading the darksome path?

Author's Bio

Carole McDonnell writes fiction, non-fiction, poetry and reviews. Her writings appear in many anthologies, including the following anthologies edited by Milton Davis and Charles Saunders, published by MV Media Griots, Steamfunk, Griots: Sisters of the Spear, Dieselfunk, Rococoa, So Long Been Dreaming: Postcolonialism in Science Fiction, edited by Nalo Hopkinson and published by Arsenal Pulp Press; Jigsaw Nation, published by Spyre Books; Fantastic Visions III anthology published by Fantasist Enterprises; Lost Trails: Forgotten Tales of the Weird West, published by Wolfsinger publications, Griots: A Sword and Soul Anthology, edited by Milton Davis and Charles Saunders, Life Spices from Seasoned Sistahs: Writings by Mature Women of Color, and Fantastic Stories of the Imagination, edited by Warren Lapine and published by Wilder Publications and many others.
Her reviews appear at various online sites.
Her story collections are Spirit Fruit: Collected Speculative Fiction by Carole McDonnell and Turn Back O Time and other stories of the fae of Malku.
Her novels include, Wind Follower, My Life as an Onion, The Constant Tower, The Daughters of Men, and The Charcoal Bride
She lives in New York with her husband, two sons, and their pets. When not writing, she teaches English as a Second Language to refugees and migrants or can be found dancing English Country Dances.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carole McDonnell
• Release date: Oct 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798224236107

Book preview

Prologue

Do you think the Creator went to live in the sky?

I mean...if he still exists, and if he still cares for everyone on Malku.

I am bereft, forsaken.

Three years since he’s left and I miss the Creator still.

Do you still weep when you think of him?

Perhaps he exists but now lives in the sky.

Am I weak to grieve that he left us alone?

The world grieved in the aftermath.

But I am still bereft, forsaken.

Faekind and mankind challenged him when he divided the continents,

but hardly blinked when he retreated to his island.

And even then, he didn’t go to live in the sky.

He caused the forgetting, then in mankind’s renewed infancy

He allowed us to grow wise again. We repeated our evil,

But were never left bereft, forsaken.

Although the faes and merfolk were his messengers,

He still visited us in our dreams and spoke to us through our priests.

But now gone from sea and land, could he be hidden in the sky?

I am like a little mermaid who lost her way in the great sea.

Locusts have no king, yet they advance together in ranks.

Maybe the Creator is inside us, leading from within and I am not truly forsaken.

What do you think? Has he created another world with perfect beings

while we muddle through whether he is alive or dead,

Visible or invisible. Caring or uncaring. Dead or living in the sky?

Oh, let’s not talk about this. Let’s not talk of this.

Only I am speaking, and your silence and my own words terrify me.

The world is empty of its Creator and I am bereft, forsaken looking toward the sky.

Celeste’s lament on the day the Creator deserted Malku

The Frolic

S o... tell me something about yourself. Rune Lukov’s voice was interrupted by static. Good or bad. I don’t care.

Guinhal Walker was no fool. She sat on her bed, phone in hand. She wasn’t going to tell a stranger any bad thing about herself. And certainly not a boy whom she might marry. Something wrong with your phone, Lord Rune? she asked.

I thought it was yours.

Nope. Not mine.

Might be related to the tremors we’ve been having lately. Maybe. He returned to the previous topic. So, you gonna fill me in? And no need to be formal. ‘Rune’ is fine. Just ‘Rune.’

Well...Rune. If I tell good things about myself, you’ll think I’m bragging. If I tell you the nutso stuff, you’ll hang up and never speak to me again. You have to like me first. Then you can tolerate and deal with my mess.

Rune laughed. I like messy girls.

My mess? That wasn’t what she wanted to say. Actually, she’d been thinking about his mess. She wanted to ask him about his Purist paternal grandfather. But one just didn’t bring up controversial stuff in a conversation without preparing for mutual stress, and Guin was not good at receiving or giving stress.

An uncomfortable silence had no power to push the conversation forward. Finally, Rune said. I gotta go. The connection’s screwy, anyway. And I have to work on my practicum.

Wait, wait! Guin finally got her voice back.

Rune waited. Yes?

Guin tried to make herself ask the question: Why are you even accepting this possible provenance? I’m a Black girl, a descendant of the people of the Southern Continent, and your dad’s family are Purists. Why even go on this frolic? But, she wimped out. How’ll I recognize you?

Miss Walker, I shall be the handsome stud riding up to your sisters’ farm.

On a white horse?

Of course, a white horse! What else?

I hear you Sovereign Citizens love your horses. That was the best she could do, slip in a comment about the militia group. But lots of studs show up at my sisters’ place on white horses. I don’t want to be swooped up by the wrong one.

No, we wouldn’t want that. I’ll send you a photo. One that won’t blind you with my radiance.

Yes, do be careful. I kinda like my eyesight.

See you then?

See you.

Rune clicked off the call, leaving Guin unsettled. He had called, had been friendly enough – for a rich young lord who was being set up by his aristo mother and Guin’s meddling sisters. But something about the sudden abrupt ending of the phone call—it didn’t feel right. And he had ignored her comment about sovereign citizens. Perhaps he was more annoyed about this possible arranged marriage than he let on. Or maybe he couldn’t keep up the façade of kindness any longer.

Another thought came and Guin immediately called him back.

What’s new? Rune sounded amused when he picked up.

Uhm... what’re we gonna do on our first meeting? No! ‘Meeting’ sounds weird. ‘Encounter?’ No. That’s weird too. Okay, yes, it’s a frolic. What’re we gonna do on this frolic of ours?

Is there something you don’t want to do? Rune asked.

I know it’s Spring and we’re all happy to get outside but...no sports frolic, no walking around in nature, no dancing, no riding around on white horses. Just make it relaxing. I don’t want to be in a position of trying to prove myself by being all active and sporty. And I need a place where I can make a quick getaway just in case I hate you.

Rune chuckled. We’ll see where the day takes us. See you Saturday morning. Bye, then?

Bye.

Just as the call ended, Guin’s mother walked into the room. If you lost weight, you’d have more energy and you wouldn’t have to avoid the woods, Mrs. Walker said and sat on her daughter’s bed.

I look forward to him gagging when he sees me and cutting the frolic short.

Stop expecting to be rejected. Your touchiness is wearing on people. Although...maybe, tomorrow...go to the high school tech center and get your hair done.

Why does this woman obsess about my hair? Guin thought, And she’s calling me touchy?

Your sisters know the world, Mrs. Walker went on. They’ve lived in the furnace of life twenty-five years longer than you have.

Guin wouldn’t call her self-isolating sisters ‘living.’ Whatever! Being eighteen doesn’t make me ignorant about life, Mama.

"Lady Winsome Lukov isn’t descended from any old fae. Her ancestor was a great fae prince. A prince fae!"

But...I don’t want—

Mrs. Walker held Guin’s shoulders and locked eyes with her. You’re afraid of life, aren’t you?

Mama..., Guin began but fell silent knowing her mother was speaking the truth.

And sickness, and death, right? Mrs. Walker continued. I understand. We all are. But the Creator left three years ago and everyone’s learned to live with it. The faes are gone too. We mankind are all alone now. A faekind husband would be the best spouse for you. Faekind are not only gentle, faithful, good people, but they’re...aware of things. Am I right?

From the handful I’ve met...yes they’re good people generally and—

A husband with the ability to know unknown things, Guin! Wouldn’t that be helpful when you battle your fears? Your hypochondria? Your depression? Whatever skills he may have, he’ll have more empathy and more power and keener insight and senses than the typical mankind male. Jasmine says you need someone like that to help you walk through life.

Guin pushed past a twinge of shame. Mama, I’m not that bad.

Mrs. Walker snorted. "So you say. And this is no mere frolic. It’s a possible provenance. You have the chance to enter an arranged marriage with the son of an aristo. And not just any aristo.  An aristo faekind woman, Guin Walker! You should be grateful!"

But his father and his grandfather are Purists. Guin tried to talk some sense into her mother. How could a faekind aristo woman like Her Ladyship marry into that family? Didn’t she see his heart?

"She probably loved the idiot! But we’re talking about you, right now. She saw you in your sisters’ hearts and she immediately liked you. Isn’t that good?"

Did she see my ‘issues’?

Of course, she did. No need to worry. Just be yourself. She already knows you.

That’s not exactly comforting, Mama. Okay. Whatever. I’ll try. Since my sisters dragged themselves out of their stupid-ass fortress to take care of me. My love to their love.

If that’s the best I’ll get by way of gratitude, I’ll have to take it. But think about it. Even if the frolic doesn’t lead to marriage, you’ll have a new friend. But his mother thinks you’ll be good together.

Guin leaned against her book-filled bed-board. In some places in Hanrisor, people get to choose love marriages.

Mrs. Walker rolled her eyes. And that always ends well, right?

What kind of fae is Mrs Lukov descended from? What power did they have?

Her Ladyship, Mrs. Walker corrected. Not ‘Mrs. Lukov.’ Never that. She hates that name. Her Ladyship and her kids are nothing like the father’s side of the family. They were air fae, I think. It would make Rune a good archer maybe. If the gene came down.

We only need archers when warring against faes, Guin snarked. And they’re all gone.

Hey, maybe he can fly, Mrs. Walker said. You never know. Faekind genes do hang on.

For better or worse...

You’re trying to be difficult, Guin. Mrs. Walker rose from the bed. Her fatigued steps to the door reminded Guin of the toll her dad’s emotional disability had taken upon the family. Heck, it was probably their self-absorbed, ineffectual, depressed dad and not the Creator’s disappearance that caused her sisters to become such control freaks.

I guess Celeste and Jasmine just want me married to a good man, Guin pretended to concede.  

Mrs. Walker stood at the door. It’s the boy alone that matters. Not his father. If you don’t like him, don’t marry him. Then, when you get older, you’ll tell your kids your first boyfriend was faekind and an aristo. Unlike your old Mama who married the only guy who asked her out. Still...even if you don’t like him, it wouldn’t hurt to marry him. Night-night.

Night-night.

After her mother closed the bedroom door, Guin figured she’d do some online snooping.

The Lukovs were worse than she’d heard. Their rebellious onslaughts against the royal family and the government had escalated after the Creator left. Of course, in the global emotional meltdown that followed, everything and everyone went bad.  After their worshipful pleadings and heart-searching went unanswered, the inhabitants of Malku arose from their numbing trauma. Some responded to their abandonment with passionate commitment to goodness or mayhem. Some became obsessively controlling of everything they lay their eyes or hands on. The Lukovs chose to control Hanrisor Purity. Disregarding the king’s laws, they organized countless exploits including rallies to remove descendants of the southern continent from their neighborhood. There were lawsuits, trials, and allegations about attacks on Black neighborhoods but the Lukov connection with Purist rebels, lawyers, and judges who sent off Borderlander and Black offenders to for-profit prisons caused those pesky challenges to disappear. Reading about the injustice of it all was enough to tempt Guin to forget the whole frolic.

Dammit, Guin uttered under her breath. The Lukovs behave as if the Creator isn’t coming back. And if he does, are they gonna fight him? What the hell?  

LADY WINSOME BROOMHILL Lukov, Rune’s mom, had been hovering over Rune during his conversation with Guin. So, it’s done? she asked when the call ended.  

Rune leaned against the kitchen sink. It’s done.

She’s nice, isn’t she?

She wanted to mention Granddad. Rune walked across the kitchen and toward the dining room. She almost began but couldn’t bring herself to push ahead.

Ah, she should’ve pushed ahead! Then you could’ve explained matters.

Explain matters to someone I don’t know? Mother, are you mad? Can I go now?

Winsome paced the kitchen, clapping her hands which were soapy with dish-washing liquid.

It was the first time in days that she’d been out of bed and Rune was glad to see her walking about, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk about Guin.

As he turned toward the living room, his mother held his arm. You liked her, she said with an assurance that felt intrusive. I see it. You’re beginning to like her.

Rune half-smiled. She seemed ...sweet. Funny, too. Yeah, but—

You should’ve talked longer, given her a chance to—

Mother, I’m going on a frolic with the girl. That’s a chance, isn’t it?

His mother clung to his wrist. It must end with a provenance, and then a marriage.

Must it? Mother, we’re not in the days of King Skall now. I—

Can’t you be more excited about it?

I can hardly be excited if the destination’s already settled.

It’s the emotional journey that matters, Son. And, don’t you trust me?

Winsome’s desperations were always edged with a terrifying faekind zeal that overcharged her body. Some days, as was typical for faekind, the zeal was less noticeable. But today she trembled, shook. As her oldest son, Rune understood that he was her justification for enduring a faithless husband and a rejecting mother-in-law, and that because of the bad marriage, Winsome felt she had to save the souls of Rune and his siblings. But she had decided to not only save their souls but to save the world, and Rune was her axe to cut down the Lukov obsession with national purity.

I hope I love this girl you’re so keen on me marrying, Rune said.

If you can’t love her, are you able to remain honorably married to her anyway?

I’m able, Mother.

If you enter a provenance with her, your father won’t be able to drag you into a marriage with one of the Firecave girls, or any of his Purist allies. And Prince Cabrel will stop trying to marry you off to one of his sisters. Aren’t those good enough reasons to stop being difficult?

Rune gave his mother a non-committal smile. He hadn’t thought he was being difficult at all.

Winsome nodded to his brother Rowan who had entered carrying an empty juice pitcher and continued speaking. Boys, you’re Broomhill blood. We are descended from both King Skall and Lord Nohay. We Broomhills always stood for the right thing. As our fae and human ancestors have.

Rune had heard all about the Broomhill family history with its unsettling mixture of fae abolitionists and human aristocratic noblesse oblige. For centuries, the aristos and the faes had battled each other. Yet love matches inevitably occurred. It had all been a tangled mess. The faekind—children of fae and mankind—benefitted or suffered depending on the times. Sometimes they caused devastation throughout Malku. Over the years, the faekind had maintained their penchant for noble and responsible behavior. However, Winsome’s marriage to the Lukov family had entangled the Broomhill with a heritage of hatred and oppression.

I understand that all this unsettles you, Winsome said, annoying Rune because he disliked her searching his heart. But I’m your mom. I know you. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.

She walked toward the stairs to her bedroom.

You’re really agreeing to this?  Rowan asked after their mother had gone upstairs. He lowered his voice, spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. She’s Black.

At the time that his dad, Veikur Lukov, and his grandfather Earnest were warning the Lukov brood kids to keep away from non-white and non-mankind suitors, Winsome was teaching them their responsibility to all the citizens of Hanrisor, regardless of race, class, clan, species, and tribe. The upshot of these battling parental passions was the creation of a sexual frisson and a near obsession with forbidden fruit among Rune and his siblings. But neither Rune, Rowan, nor their sister Veika had acted upon any of these impulses.

I have to. To get Mother off my back. And you heard what she said. Better she choose a wife for me than the crown prince or—Creator forbid—Granddad or Father.

Is the girl pretty?

She’s pretty enough.

Prettier than Princess Lianna?

Rune smiled at the memory of his old betrothed. Not so pretty. But who is as lovely as Lianna? Mom showed me a glimpse of her in her heart. It was a half-lie; he had also glimpsed Guin’s face when they talked on the phone. But his skills were not as good as his mother’s. And Mom showed me a picture of her. She’s a bit on the chubby side.

Ooh, Mom knows your type! Rowan clapped his hand and waited for more info. What’s she like?

She’s messy.

Yes! Perfect for you! Do we have the best mom or not? Did you see anything else? An empathic glimpse of her personality, maybe?

Rune shook his head. I keep trying but I don’t have that skill. Another lie fell from his lips with its usual ease and he reasoned that it was all for the best that they didn’t think their brother, like their mother, also could see inside hearts. The lie succeeded. Faekind genetics were complicated at best and Rune’s abilities were somewhat of a family mystery. Veika, Rune’s sister, was skilled at communicating with birds. Rowan had inherited the dark blue hair of an air fae and the pale eyes which was the trait of all air faes. But not much else. A situation which had caused much cruel bullying or fear from mankind or gentle teasing from his family. He was transparent, caring, passionate, but easygoing. All very refreshing traits in the serious Lukov household, and Rune hoped his brother would never change.

You’re very silly to be so happy for me, he said, and playfully tugged Rowan’s hair.

I know, I know, Rowan said. Are you gonna tell Granddad? Or will you hide it?

Seems silly to hide it, Rune said. If I enter a provenance, he’ll find out anyway, won’t he?

EARNEST LUKOV PUT HIS arm around his grandson’s shoulder as they spoke in the old man’s bedroom. You’re really thinking of marrying such a girl?

If I like her.

And do you want to like her?

Rune smiled. He wanted a lover, he wanted a confidante – someone far from family or political drama—and his mother had possibly provided him one. I do.

Earnest nodded. Thanks for telling me. You know I can’t wish you well?

That I do know, yes.

Well, let’s see. Let’s just see. Earnest sighed deeply. You’re bright. You’ll probably come to your senses, since you’re not a kid who does everything his mother says.

Rune shrugged. The dig was too low for him to respond to, and Rune pretty much sided with his mother on all things.

You’ll see for yourself. His grandmother, Memma, put down the afghan she was knitting—  a white bald eagle holding a militia flag. Girls descended from the slaves are whores. They learn it from their mothers. I can understand their situation. It was a way to survive when they were brought to Hanrisor. But it don’t make it right or moral. Don’t sleep with her. Sex blinds people. As you already know from your father’s situation. If you can’t control yourself, just don’t get her pregnant. Pregnancy brings complications.

Rune thought, I’m not an idiot like my father. And, complications aside, Aron is the best half-brother I could ever have. But he said, Mother has chosen to be traditional and to follow King Skall’s ancient paths. There won’t be sex without a provenance.

Memma took his hands in hers. You were born for a reason, my boy. Don’t forget that.  She looked toward Winsome’s bedroom. I’m glad there aren’t any secrets between you and your old Memma. She studied his silver-blue eyes. The old woman was never sure how the fae genes would show themselves in her grandchildren. There aren’t any secrets, are there?

The unspoken subtext was that—despite his royal mixed blood ancestry—Rune was more pure-blood Lukov than Broomhill, and more like his paternal Granddad than his father who always fell for the wrong women, including Rune’s faekind mom. Rune didn’t approve the subtext, but he loved his grandparents –perhaps because they had grown to love him, his blue-haired brother, and his blue-skinned sister—so he kept his opinion to himself.

None, Rune replied.

She’s dark, Memma said. Not pale like the Prince. If your mother was—

King Skall was dark, Memma, Rune said. And he is my ancestor.

Skall’s father was a white Hanrisorian, Earnest interjected.

Granddad, the blood of the Southern continent flow in my veins, even though I look white.

That one drop from the Southern continent is dwindling. It’ll be gone in the next generation. Same with your fae blood. That’s dwindling too. Not that some of the fae traits aren’t useful.

Rune bowed to his grandparents and left their bedroom. There was no use arguing with them; he knew how resilient faekind genes were.

In his room, he couldn’t focus on his studies: Guin was in all his thoughts. She was funny on that phone call. It’d be nice to have someone to share my heart with. 

He thought of Cabrel, Hanrisor’s prince, and immediately Cabrel replied with a telepathic, Is your mother well? Tell her to take care of herself. These faekind weaknesses can be lethal if not managed properly. Or is she dying? Perhaps that’s the reason why she is so keen to marry you off.

Cabrel, Rune snapped. Don’t speak so glibly about my mother dying.

From his bedroom Rune saw Cabrel’s face flush.

I shouldn’t have said that, Cabrel apologized. My mouth often speaks too carelessly. I only mean that if she needs help, I and my mother will do our best to help her. There’s a healer I know who can help. He’s spent his time categorizing fae remedies and is adept at managing faekind maladies.

Mother is skilled enough, Rune said. We don’t need your healer’s help. Rowan recovered without their help. Mother will too.

Why are you Lukovs so wary? Cabrel asked. Do you think the healer will tell me your hidden secrets?

Change the subject, Your Highness, Rune said, bristling at being called a Lukov.

How is the Little Miss? Cabrel asked, If she weren’t so like my mother the Queen, I would probably have chosen her for my primary wife.

As if!  Rune sneered. She hates politics even more than I do.

Let’s talk face to face, Cabrel said then ended the conversation with an image of a local alehouse. On his mother’s ancestral side, Rune and his siblings were descended from Lord Nohay, King Skall, and a prince of the air fae. They had gone to school with the Crown Prince and eaten at the King’s table until Earnest’s rebellious views became too extreme, and the current ruling descendant of Skall cut the friendship short. Joining the prince at an alehouse would be a sore point with both Earnest and Veikur, Rune’s father.

Rising from his books, Rune walked into the parlor where his mother and siblings sat discussing the latest tremors.

You off somewhere? his sister Veika stood up and wrapped her Spring shawl about her shoulder.

To the alehouse, Rune said aloud but to his mother he spoke the telepathic words, I’m meeting Cabrel. Should Veika come along?

His mother answered tapped Rowan’s feet with hers. The tavern? Sounds fun. Veika seems to want to go. Rowan, you as well?

Rowan grabbed his cloak.

Off with you, my children, Winsome said and stood up. Have fun and don’t drink too much.

VEIKA SAW CABREL BEFORE Rune did, although Rune had sensed his presence when they entered the tavern. Cabrel and his two guards– Storm Eye and Little Foal—were intently watching a game of darts being played by two mankind warriors who were clearly half-drunk. Being faekind, they were having a good time messing with the trajectory of the darts. Rune tried not to laugh as the inebriated warriors attempted to figure out why the darts weren’t following the natural laws of physics.

Veika ran to the prince and hugged him tightly, yanking on his waist-length braided sky-blue hair.

You guys meeting in secret, uh? She tugged the prince’s ear. Mom probably saw you in Rune’s mind. I guess she knew I missed you.

They invented the phrase ‘cavalier elegance’ to describe aristos like you, Rune said. Is this alehouse your office now? Or have you turned into a runway model?

Cuz, Cabrel replied, it’s not my fault your mother’s still buying your clothes. Your tunic is swallowing you up. Do you not care how you look? And your hair! If you’re wearing it long, wear it long. If short, then short. What is this odd neither-here, neither-there length? He stifled a snicker and shouted to the waitress to bring Rune some posset and maltloaf along with two ales for Veika and Rowan.

A tremor rippled through the alehouse, the latest in an escalating series of minor quakes that had shattered nerves and buildings in the previous weeks. Rune watched as the waitress steadied herself and her half-empty tray while uttering several epithets against the absent Creator for deserting Malku. Then, he looked about at the other patrons. A fifty-something man near the window was smoking a pipe and pondering how to steal the contents of a traveler’s backpack. A patron sitting by the door was waiting for a solitary young girl to leave, planning on how to rape her. Near the kitchen, a thirtyish woman was trying to send seductive thoughts to Cabrel in the hope that the prince would lie in bed with her. Rune remembered once again why he hated going into the world.

The earth is rebelling, Rune thought. The Creator’s gone, and people are still plotting crap.

Cabrel winked to Rune. Quit being such a curmudgeon, Cousin.

Rune attempted to loosen up. I’m—

This is why I focus on the dart game, Cabrel said. I’m not here to fix every little evil. If the Creator allows humans the free will to do great and small evil, who am I to meddle?

Rune looked at the girl who would most likely be raped. Words often failed him, but telepathy never did. He blasted the prince with all the thoughts in his heart. Shouldn’t we at least warn her?

Learn to mind your own business, Rune, Cabrel said. Or you will go insane or end up treading the darksome path. Not something our duchess aunties would like. Nor the Lukovs either, for that matter.

The Lukovs of North-Eastern Hanrisor were one of the most respected families in the Nativists clans and the Sovereign Citizens militias. If the Lukovs kept going on about Hanrisor losing its cultural identity and needing a strong Hanrisorian ruler, then Rune had to stop them. He was, after all, bred by his mother to stop the Lukov madness.

Rune, a child troubled by the circumstances around his birth, had endured the guilt by drinking in the almost messianic views from his grandmother and mother. It was the emotional truth upon which his life was built. Both Memma and Winsome had a similar belief in Rune’s great purpose. But with competing ideologies, it was only natural that the women hated each other. It was an emotional tangle everyone at the table knew all too well. And now his mother had made an innocent girl a pawn in that chess game.

You love them both, Cabrel said. "And you want to make both women happy. But live your own life and leave your family’s goals behind if they aren’t yours. And stop lying to your siblings about your fae skills.

Rune replied, In the Lukov household with all its claims on my existence, my ability to see hearts is one of the few things I consider my own.

So, Aunt Winsome is still the only person aware of the depth of your telepathy?

Even she doesn’t know how powerful it could be.

You’re searching Rune’s mind, aren’t you? Veika said to the Crown Prince. Rune’s got that stupid vacant look on his face that he gets when Mom chatters at him from a distance. Can you teach him to send messages as well as receive them? He’s so useless sometimes. She took the maltloaf and the posset and gave her brother the ale glasses.

Cabrel chuckled at the confused look the dart-players were now aiming at the dartboard. I don’t think I could teach him, he said.

You’ve got some serious skills, Veika said. Why can’t you?

Little Foal sipped his ale. So, none of you are lucky in the inheritance department?

Rowan pushed the maltloaf from Veika and toward Rune. Not with telepathy, he said.

Storm Eye sent a telepathic thought to Rune. Not only are you lying to your brother and sister but you’re forcing us to lie to them too?

Before Rune could answer, Veika started levitating and giggling.  She was about four feet off the ground, floating in thin air. I’ve got some skills. Look! Cabrel, I’m levitating.

Those in the bar had differing reactions. Some patrons were laughing. Others appeared annoyed or even disgusted. Then, suddenly, before Rune knew it, Veika suddenly fell to the floor.

She stood up, rubbing her butt. "You did that, Cabrel Asshole!"

Not something I’ll take credit for, Cabrel said. Although...I will take credit for offering marriage to Lianna as a conciliation. And to get Lianna off my back.

Mother broke Rune’s engagement with Lianna, Rowan said, and Rune could sense a minor battle escalating. Because being dragged into parliamentary wars isn’t something our Rune is made for. Even if Your Highness thought the position right for him.

True. Staying out of a royal marriage is best for you if your Granddad is fomenting civil war.

Shame swept over the siblings, but only Veika spoke. You’re saying that to make us feel like crap, aren’t you? She pinched his arm, twisting the pale blue skin for several seconds. You’re out here treading the darksome path and you’re trying to shame us?

I’m saying it because it’s true, Little Miss, Cabrel retorted, glancing wistfully at the waitress. And, I am not treading the darksome path. I’m here because – as matters stand with your grandfather and his traitorous rebel followers—you guys can’t visit me at the palace. In another era, that would be cause for execution. He shot Rune a serious glance. So, Cousin, stop defending your treasonous paternal clan who’re hellbent on usurping the government and destroying my family.

Rune squeezed his forehead. I will try, of course. Mother expects me to.

And how does the new fiancé fit into this? Cabrel asked. She’ll battle the Lukovs too? Or Aunt wouldn’t have chosen her, would she? So, what’s she like?

Rowan laughed. Rune says she’s messy!

Sounds just right up my alley, Cabrel said, looking intrigued. Why doesn’t my mother ever find me messy women? But it’s a dangerous move Aunt Winsome is making. Why would she drag an innocent—albeit messy—Black girl, into the mix?

Rune had been his mother’s confidante, hope, and vindication—and for better or worse—she had rubbed off on him. If I like the girl, I’ll protect her.

Good to know. Cabrel momentarily glanced at the faded burn scar on Rowan’s right forearm.

She needs a picture, Rune said.

Want me to choose? Cabrel took Rune’s phone and flipped through it. After stopping momentarily to smile at a painting of the Creator, he continued his search, finally settling upon a photo of Rune hugging Winsome.

This one, Cabrel said. So she’ll know you’re affectionate. Then before Rune could ask why, Cabrel added, You don’t realize how strange you seem at times, Rune.

Strange? Rune asked, and Cabrel and his bodyguards laughed at him.

There’s something in your heart I can’t see clearly, Cabrel said. Are you hiding something from me?

Insulted, hurt, Rune asked him, Your Highness, why would I hide anything from you?

So I shouldn’t suspect your allegiance? Cabrel asked, his tone suspicious and serious.

Do you really suspect us? Veika asked, surprised and angry.

I suppose not.

You suppose not? Rowan’s tone was dark.

Well, then...to more personal matters. Cabrel returned the cellphone to Rune. The girl will understand that you’re courting her because your mother wishes you to.

"But it’s also my desire, Rune said. And why are you so casually changing the topic?"

Because you do not wish to talk about your mother’s possible death and I do not wish to be distrusted. Cabrel glanced again at the photo. Tell the girl you desire her only when she desires you.

Or you’ll seem desperate, Storm Eye said. Don’t want her confusing pity with love, do we?

Or taking advantage of your desire for her, Little Foal said. For Creator’s sake, Rune is such an idiot at times!

Yes, Rune said, feeling foolish. I suppose you’re right.

Yes, Cabrel sent a telepathic thought. Search the girl’s heart deeply. Use your skill, man. Why jump into marriage blind like ordinary mankind? My heartbroken sister will have to move on!

They finished talking and went outside where both groups prepared to part. But a faekind granny had followed them out the tavern. Faekind grannies were a harrying intrusive lot with nothing better to do than harangue young faekind and walk everyone’s mind. She immediately approached Rune and Cabrel and struck Cabrel hard across the back of his thigh with her walking stick.

I saw you inside! she accused, her pale blue skin blushing red with outrage. Do you think others didn’t see what you were doing?

Grandmother, it was only a little game of darts, Cabrel said, rubbing his leg and defending himself. Damn, that hurts!

You were irresponsible! Do you want to tread the darksome path?

Grandmother, the darksome path is being outside of society, sitting on boulders in the middle of nature, ruminating on how to destroy one’s conscience. I was in a bar, for Creator’s sake! I am not planning to destroy mankind, am I?

The faekind granny lifted up her cane threateningly. Are you talking back to me, Young Prince? Some of the mankind inside suspected you were playing around with the darts.

We were having a little fun, Veika said and cast her gaze downwards.

Too full of liquor to see the effect your little fun? Some of them were afraid of you, Little Miss! Why the hell were you levitating in the middle of a tavern? And in such a short tunic! Where are your morals? Do you want us to be persecuted again? Especially now when the fae aren’t around to protect us?

Were you the one who made me fall? Veika shouted.

But Prince Cabrel bowed apologetically. Forgive me, Grandmother.

I see that thought in your mind! The faekind granny glared at Cabrel. You want to stop that rapist. Don’t you dare! And in such a dramatic way! Why must you always be so flagrant? Haven’t your royal parents warned you against that kind of tomfoolery? To do such things will make mankind look upon us as saviors or demons, making us either idols to be worshipped or evils to be destroyed. Active ignorance! Active ignorance! Do you not understand?

I understand. Prince Cabrel bowed apologetically. Forgive me, Grandmother.

Rune, Rowan, Storm Eye and Little Foal all bowed apologetically. Forgive me, Grandmother.

But Veika remained defiantly silent.

The faekind granny walked over to Rune and waved her aged fingers into his face. And you! Rune Lukov!

Rune winced, prepared himself for a hit to the side or knees.  

Mercifully, the faekind granny spared him. Tell your sister those thoughts in her mind are only worthy of the sewer. Your mother has it hard enough and here you three are! Indulging in drink when you should be standing up to that grandfather of yours! And to think you were going to be one of our high priests! How are the mighty fallen!

Rune apologized profusely and the faekind granny went her way murmuring and shaking her head about the carelessness of the younger generation.

What rapist? Veika whispered, after the faekind granny was some distance away.

I’ll find a way to stop him, Cabrel said. In a normal non-flagrant way.

On their return to the Lukov house, the siblings didn’t tell their grandparents or their father about their meeting with Prince Cabrel. They certainly didn’t mention the intrusive faekind granny. Such conversations were best avoided.

Rune went to bed soon after that and dreamed of grieving old and young women in widows’ weave. He woke startled and unable to return to sleep. Throughout the night, he thought of Guin, his heart leaping with anticipation at the idea of meeting her. 

The Upheaval

Guin woke with a jolt . Shaken, she wondered why she had bolted up. She groggily weaned herself from dreamland. What the heck had awakened her?

Her parents were snoring. Good! Her father had not spoken to anyone in days. He had never liked talking, and he seemed incapable of understanding what affection was. To him, conversation was merely about the exchange of information and when he cared to talk, he spoke only about the absence of the Creator. But not in the affectionate or desperate ways that others spoke of their absent Creator. Others wondered whether the Creator would return from what seemed a sudden desperate flight from his creations. Or they pondered the possibility if some ultra-powerful fae imposter would arise and pretend to be the Maker of All Things. No, unlike those who had not recovered from the Creator’s disappearance, Mr. Walker went on his usual way, seemingly unable to understand that he felt loss.

Lights from the next-door neighbor’s house flicked on and shone through her open window into Guin’s. Dammit! Guin sent the next-door neighbor a wordless message: Turn off the light, please! Go back to sleeping with whoever you brought home tonight. But she was mankind and not faekind; the neighbors didn’t hear her telepathic command.

She scooted to the edge of her bed and looked past the hallway through her bathroom window to the neighbor’s backyard. They didn’t understand the meaning of consideration and always partied into the night and went to bed only when the sun rose. Their backyard lights were on, of course. The fifth month had barely nudged away the winter cold but here they were... with their nightlong parties. Their voices—much too loud—merged with the techno music bouncing off the garden fence.

What were they saying? Guin only caught snatches. They were speaking excitedly. What’s that? Did you feel that? You felt that too, right? The morning jolt was apparently communal. Something happening in the neighborhood, Guin thought. An accident down the road maybe. Guin didn’t hear any police cars. No ambulances either. She pulled her blanket over her shoulder and tried to go back to sleep. Back to that weird dream where she was teaching women how to open cans by rubbing the can tops against concrete steps, and how to scale and clean fish. A dream where she was training young girls how to make menstrual pads out of rags and pussy willow and how to put cloth nappies on babies.

Flaky dream, Guin thought. Especially because she hadn’t known that rubbing the tops of canned foods would—sooner or later—open them. Her mind turned to Rune. For some reason, she couldn’t help thinking about him.

Rune Lukov is the grandson of a Sovereign Citizen family. Is that why I had the dream? Why did I even agree to this frolic? And with an aristo of all people! Because my utterly-intrusive sisters would gang up on me if I said no, that’s why! Dammit. Why do I have to do everything they ask me to do?

She picked up her cell phone and saw that Rune had sent a photo. Ah, There he is! So that’s what he looks like! No sign of the famed fae beauty. But not bad!

He did not possess an overwhelming beauty. Neither did he look like the beautiful faekind men of old or the handsome faekind boys she had seen in the neighborhood or in the media. He was good-looking, yes. But it was a fine-featured boy-next-door handsomeness. Thin round wire-framed eyeglasses on a face that exuded shyness, kindness, and intelligence made him immediately likeable. In the photo, he wore a green-blue tunic and grinned at the unseen photographer, as if the grin had been coaxed out of him. He was back-hugging his mother—the quiet, fatigued-looking woman whom Guin had seen only once. He’s got a sweet, kind, smile! she thought. She swiped Rune’s picture, expanded it, and focused on his eyes.  Those granny glasses. Uhm...blue eyes. Pale blue like the faes, but kind eyes. What’s he saying by sending this particular picture? Is he hinting at something? What?

Sandy blonde hair—she didn’t like blondes—flowed out from under a cap which read: Natural Bridge Animal Rescue. Guin remembered that he was studying to be a veterinarian, and –because she attended nursing school—liked that. That means he’s got a kind heart, she told herself. People who love animals either really love or really hate people. She studied the photo closely. Maybe it’s just the pic. He doesn’t have blue skin that I can see. Unless it’s really pale blue. Nice dimples, though. Great nose!

She imagined the upcoming frolic. Where would