Page 26 of Beyond the Faerie Gate

“You taught me to speak Fae.”

“Yup,” Maeve confirms. “Bet you’re glad of that now.”

“So does that mean you’re fae too?”

Mab nods slowly, pulling aside her red hair to show the same pointed ears that Jaro and Drystan have.

Like mine, her hair is so long and thick it hides the points perfectly, as is Maeve’s. Even Titania, who keeps hers short, has never appeared without her headband or a hair wrap. As I watch, the bright strip of fabric disappears into nothing as if it was only an illusion to begin with—which I suppose, with glamour, it could’ve been—showcasing her long, pointed, and heavily pierced ears.

“And what about the goat girl downstairs?”

“She’s under fae.” Titania explains. “A faun. Very common in the Spring Court.”

“You’re high fae, or close to it,” Mab says, like that should make perfect sense to me. “Just like the two Guards you’ve found. It’s just a term that means fae who look close to humans.”

“Under fae are the better lot,” Maeve mutters. “High fae are pretentious pricks, the bunch of them. Think they’re better than everyone else. I’d rather have dinner with a troop of trolls and redcaps than endure a banquet with the high fae.”

“Stop prejudicing her,” Titania scolds. “All fae are equal in the eyes of Danu.”

“So what’s seelie and unseelie?” I ask, cutting off their argument before they can really get into it. “The town guard looked like he wasn’t going to let us in because he thought Drystan was unseelie.”

Maeve throws her hands up. “I’m not explaining this one,” she says. “I spent most of my life being told I was anti-seelie.”

Titania rubs her temples. “They look no different to each other and speak the same language, but there is a difference. It’s hard to put into words.”

“Is it a culture thing?” I ask, confused.

Titania frowns, then shrugs unhelpfully. “In a way, I suppose it’s cultural and magical. The difference is easy to see but hard to explain. You’re born one or the other, and you can’t change which you are, yet both sides are deeply prejudiced against each other. The unseelie don’t believe in honour and tend to have a more individualistic view of the world. Their magic is generally more violent or dangerous, like being venomous or incredibly good with certain weapons. Whereas the seelie—”

“Ass-kissing do-gooders,” Maeve mumbles, but is ignored.

“They’re more about the collective good and will keep to their word,” Titania corrects. “Their talents tend to be more peaceful, like healing or dancing.”

“The seelie generally keep to the southern courts, and the unseelie to the north,” Mab adds.

“It’s not really that clear cut.” Titania argues. “There are seelie children born to unseelie parents and vice versa. There’s a lot of prejudice, and no reason for any of it.”

“So, which am I?”

Mab snorts. “Neither.”

At the same time, Titania says. “Both.”

Maeve rolls her eyes. “You’re saddled with the great joy that is being officially neutral. Trust me, you’ll hate it. The number of times I’ve wanted to kick a high fae seelie crybaby up the ass for complaining to me when an unseelie inevitably tricked their way out of a deal…”

“Most fae have one magical talent which confirms their affiliation. You have two, one for each.” Titania smiles.

I have two powers? “What are they? How do I know?”

Maeve shrugs. “I was always just really good at fighting shit.”

“Most fae are born with them. Yours might have been dampened by your long-term iron exposure,” Titania theorises. “They’ll surface when you’re ready for them”

I sink back into the water and try to come to terms with what they’ve just told me.

“This is a lot,” I mumble. “Yesterday I was human.”

And now I have wings, and magic, and a brother; oh, and apparently I’m a queen.

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