Jane Godman - Otherworld Challenger

“When do we set off in search of the challenger?” Two could play at this make-your-blood-boil game.

By the light of her lantern Vashti saw something shift in the midnight darkness of his eyes. Something dangerous. “Why did it have to be you?”

All around them the night was haunting in its perfection yet they remained inside their own little bubble of tension. Vashti had no idea what he meant. “Pardon?”

“Why do you have to be the one who comes with me? The Council could have sent anyone.”

“My people have the most to lose if you find the challenger. I want to be absolutely sure you get it right.”

“Ah, yes. I was forgetting. You will cease to be a princess if his claim to the throne is proved. That must sting.”

His barb struck home. Vashti felt her own rage light up the night skies almost as effectively as the fireflies dancing around them. “You sanctimonious bastard.”

Why must he persist in ascribing such hateful motives to her actions? It was the legacy of being Moncoya’s daughter. Everyone assumed she was as evil as her father, yet somehow it hit harder when it came from Jethro. Or maybe he was prepared to be more honest than most and say exactly what he thought of her.

Jethro grinned, his anger dissipating as quickly as hers ignited. “Tomorrow.” Vashti blinked at him, not comprehending this sudden shift in the conversation. “I am setting off in search of the challenger first thing in the morning.”

“Okay.” She turned away, but his next words brought her back to face him again.

“And, Princess, just so you know? Despite what you think, you won’t be able to keep up with me on this quest...and I have no intention of waiting around for you.”

“Is that a challenge?” She flashed the words right back at him.

“You can count on it.”

* * *

As the night wore on Vashti noticed the party had dwindled to a few hardy souls. A group, including herself and the bride and groom, sat in a circle, earnestly discussing the matter of the challenger for the faerie crown.

“Surely there are other topics of conversation you’d rather engage in on your wedding night?” Cal asked Lorcan.

“I can think of one or two.” His friend grinned. “But Tanzi has a theory she wants to share.”

Tanzi looked beautiful and happy as she sat between Lorcan’s raised knees and leaned back against his chest. Vashti thought she had never seen her sister so relaxed.

“It may be nothing,” Tanzi explained, “but when Ailie tried to gain an impression of the missing heir, she said he doesn’t look like a faerie.”

Known for their powers of healing and intuition, the Spae had been persecuted as witches in the mortal realm and driven to make their home here in Otherworld. They lived in isolation on this island, refusing to engage in the politics and fighting that drove the other dynasties.

Ailie, a woman with an open, pleasant face and a kindly manner, nodded her agreement with Tanzi’s comment. “When Lorcan asked me if the true heir was still alive, I tried to discover what I could of him. Although I couldn’t see him clearly, what came through was that he doesn’t look like a faerie.”

“It seems a strange thing to focus on.” Jethro was the only one of the group standing, his broad shoulders propped against the wall of one of the cottages.

Trust him to feel the need to look down on the rest of us. Vashti’s earlier anger toward him might have dulled, but it was no less dangerous for having lost its edge.

“I’ve thought about it a lot since then,” Ailie said. “The fact I gained that impression of him, above all others, makes me think he must look nothing like a faerie.”

“Yet he is a pure-born faerie, so his looks must make him stand out among other faeries. And the Goddesses of Fate told me Lorcan already knows him.” Tanzi spoke up again.

“Even though I actually have no clue who he is,” Lorcan reminded everyone in a long-suffering voice. “What’s this theory of yours, Searc?”

“Has anyone here ever met a pure-blood faerie who doesn’t look like a faerie?” Tanzi’s glance took in each of them in turn. The question stunned them all into silence.

Stella was the first to speak up. “You’re right. Even I look a lot like a faerie and I’m not a pure-blood. My father was mortal. I’m a hybrid. The challenger is faerie royalty. He should definitely look like a faerie.”

“He doesn’t know who he is. He may not mix with faeries. Bloody hell—” Cal ran a hand through his hair, his expression increasingly incredulous. “He probably doesn’t even know he is a faerie.”

“Since I’m the one with the task of finding this mystery man, can we rewind a bit while someone gives me a refresher on the difference between faeries and sidhes?” Jethro’s calm tone cut across the conversation.

Cal answered him. “All sidhes are faeries, but not all faeries are sidhes. The faeries are a dynasty, one of the largest in Otherworld, with many nationalities within it. The sidhes make up the majority of the faerie population. Although Moncoya was elevated to the faerie gentry when he took the throne, he is a sidhe and his background is not royal...a fact that infuriates him. The challenger we seek does come from the original royal family.

“All faeries are endowed with incredible physical beauty, all have the power to enchant—known as faerie glamor—and all are able to coexist with humans. Like Tanzi and Vashti, sidhes have the ability to shape-shift, other faeries don’t. Sidhes have a pronounced ring of fire around the iris of their eyes. Faeries have it, too, but their eyes are green, like Stella’s, so the color makes the ring of fire appear fainter, possibly even nonexistent.”

Vashti felt her lip curl. They were going to send a man who didn’t understand something so fundamental about her people in search of this challenger? Her father was unlikely to have anything to fear. Which wasn’t exactly a good thing for her people.

“But Lorcan and I do know someone who fits that description. Someone who doesn’t look like a faerie.” Tanzi turned her head to look up at her husband. “Aydan.”

“Who is Aydan?” Jethro asked.

Lorcan turned his head to look up at him. “A prominent member of the resistance in Barcelona. We’ve worked together many times, fighting against Moncoya and his henchmen. Tanzi’s right, he doesn’t look like a faerie. He barely has a ring of fire around his irises. Aydan could pass for a mortal any day.”

“You mentioned Aydan to me when I said I was losing my right-hand man now that you were coming to live here on Spae. You said Aydan would be the perfect replacement,” Cal said.

“And he would. Brave, sensitive and totally reliable. I’d trust him with my life.” Lorcan’s voice resonated sincerity. “Hell, I have trusted him with my life. Many times.”

“What’s his background?” Cal asked.

Lorcan shrugged. “Sure, haven’t we always been too busy kicking the shit out of Moncoya’s henchmen to find time for a bonding session? I assumed he was one of the Iberian sidhes. Most of the resistance are.”

“But his eyes are green,” Tanzi insisted. “I noticed it the first time I saw him, which is why I think he is a faerie.”

Cal looked thoughtful. “I’m a great believer in gut instinct. Is it worth you checking him out before you go to Avalon?” he asked Jethro.

“Sure. I can check out everyone Lorcan knows who doesn’t look like a faerie, if you like.” Jethro pushed away from the wall, standing straight and tall, looming over the rest of the group as they sat on the grass. Vashti was reminded once more of his sheer size and latent power. “But I thought we were up against the clock?”

“We are. We need to try to find the challenger before the elections for the Council leadership take place in a month,” Cal said.