Beauty (A Faery Story 3)

Then there had been the vendor buying vegetables who thought she was a part of the bargain. His warehouse had gone up in flames.

Each time she’d felt her hands warm and tingle before whatever she was pointing at had caught fire. It frightened her. She knew not what it meant except her death if she was caught.

“Dear Isolde.” The mayor clucked and hauled her close, his arm going around her waist. The guards chuckled behind her, making rude statements. She could smell the perfume he used to mask his odor. “I can see this news has frightened you. Please, my love, do not worry your pretty head. There will be no revolt. You are absolutely safe with me. Bronwyn Finn is as worthless as her brothers. She’s dead or as good as. She’s no threat to anyone.”

No threat. Useless. Yes, she felt it.

There was a loud shout, and the crowds began to move, opening up for the guard charging toward the mayor. The dancing stopped as a high wail could be heard. Everyone—peasant, farmer, noble—turned to the edge of the crowd.

The guard strode forward, the small body in his hands no impediment to his movement.

Bron gasped. Ove. She looked so tiny in the brutish guard’s hold, her delicate feet dangling. The bastard had the wee brownie by her throat. Ove’s eyes were bulging already as she struggled to breathe.

“Let her go!” Bron shouted, tearing away from the mayor. She thought about nothing but the fact that Ove couldn’t last long. The guard’s hand fit easily around her throat, and he could break her little neck without even thinking about it. “You’re killing her. She’s just a child. She didn’t mean any harm. She just wanted to see the dancing.”

She was barely two. A child in brownie years, not quite on the cusp of her womanhood. She was just a baby who had wanted to come to the party, hold a ribbon in her hands while she pranced around the maypole with the other children. Bron knew what had happened. She’d snuck from safety, hoping to catch a glimpse of the party she should have attended. Ove didn’t understand the principles of purity. Ove wanted to play with her friends. And now she was dying.

“Seize her!” The mayor ordered.

It wasn’t until the guards grabbed her arms that Bron realized he was talking about her. She was brought back to the mayor. At the edge of the crowd, Gillian stood, shaking her head, her eyes begging Bronwyn to stay calm, to play her part. They were surrounded by guards, at least one for every five villagers, and food had been scarce. The villagers were weak. They would be no match for the huge guards.

“You will have to excuse my fiancée. She is a gentle soul who needs a firm hand to guide her.” Micha’s eyes narrowed on her, his mouth a flat line that promised retribution. He turned and looked at the guard who held the brownie. “What is that thing doing here ruining my party?”

The guard dropped Ove to the ground, her body hitting the dirt with a thud. The little brownie dragged air into her lungs, her long fingers touching her throat. “I found the thing in the bushes watching the dancing.”

The mayor sneered down at the sweet little girl. “Take it away. Throw it on the fire. I don’t care, but I want no further disruptions.”

The tingling in Bron’s hands was stronger than ever, and she couldn’t deny it. Without thinking, going only on instinct, she called out to that power inside her and pointed at the guard who held a sword to Ove’s throat. Fire sparked on the guard’s tunic, a flash that erupted in all-out flames, engulfing him.

A hideous scream filled the waning day, and all eyes were on her.

The fire had come from her hands. She had held them up, and like a sorceress calling her power, she had directed it to her enemy.

The mayor gaped at her.

“Witch,” he whispered.

And then a horrible pain hit the back of her head, and darkness took her.

Chapter Six

Shim felt her panic. It started like a hundred ghostly fingers brushing across his flesh, making bumps appear in their wake. He sat straight up in the chair he’d been occupying while drinking some of the tea Paige Harper had poured with a practiced hand. The young sidhe looked very much like her mother with strawberry-blonde hair and a wide smile. She appeared to be between fourteen and sixteen years of age, but she proved her maturity as Shim began to shake.

“Something is wrong.” Her hands moved as though she could feel the air around her. “It’s coming from the outside, but it’s focused on you, Your Highness.”

Someone had said the girl had a way with witchcraft, and it seemed that she was, at the very least, sensitive to psychic episodes. But Shim didn’t have time to think about it. He could feel Bron’s heartbeat as though it was his own. He was suddenly out of breath like someone had punched the air out of his lungs.

He heard Paige calling for her parents, felt Duffy’s arm on his own, but Shim couldn’t see him anymore. His vision was clouded, miles and miles away. He saw a small brownie on the ground, dirt swirling the earth beside her. A large leather boot reared back in a kicking motion.

“Damn it, Shim. Don’t!” Duffy shouted, his hand coming off Shim’s arm.

Shim tried to hold on, but Bron’s pull was so great. She called to him, demanding his fire, his protection. Shim felt his power shimmer, skimming along his skin from someplace deep inside him.

Now his own panic began to take over. He remembered the last time he’d lost control. Lach had nearly died. His brother had been marred for the rest of his life. If he lost control here, in such a small setting, he wouldn’t be able to save the men in the house. Much less the children. Gods, the Harper children were here.

He stumbled up, not quite able to see the world in front of him. He tried to concentrate. Tried to force his brain back to this reality. It was so hard because he could feel Bron’s emotion. She moved from pure terror to a rage that threatened to completely overtake him. He had mere seconds before the fire would no longer be containable. He could already sense it building. It would be a blast that flowed between him and Bronwyn, the flames shooting into both places. The Harper’s nicely kept house would become their children’s tomb.

And then he felt a calming presence. Paige. She put a han