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  WYRD AND FAE BOOK FIVE

  Goblin Ball

  l.k. rigel

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  Available in the Wyrd and Fae Series

  Give Me (Wyrd and Fae 1)

  Bride of Fae (Wyrd and Fae 2)

  Fever Mist (Wyrd and Fae 3)

  A Glimmering Girl (Wyrd and Fae 4)

  Goblin Ball (Wyrd and Fae 5)

  Goblin Ball (Wyrd and Fae 5)

  Copyright 2015 L.K. Rigel

  Published by Beastie Press

  Cover design by eyemaidthis

  Cover model and photography Jessica Truscott

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  Blog of LK Rigel

  Table of Contents

  Cissa

  Cade

  Lilith

  Cissa

  Cammy

  Max

  Memories

  Seven Ways of Looking at a Gifting

  Cissa

  Nanny Violet

  Lexi

  Drang

  The Missing

  The Island

  Goblin Ball

  The Mystic

  Bathed in the mystic moonlight

  On the night of a goblin ball

  Look to the moon at midnight

  When true love will free us all.

  « Chapter 1 »

  Cissa

  The Faewood. Today

  Deep in the faewood at the court of the Dumnos fae, the queen was in the throne room, performing yet another of her many stultifying administrative duties.

  She sat on a raised dais so that all the courtiers could easily see their monarch. The Moonstick Throne glittered and glowed with captured moonbeams, and her crown of silvery-blue moonsticks sparkled against her flaming red hair each time she nodded her head while hearing the leprechaun Horace’s complaint.

  The pixies he had complained against toggled back and forth between laughter-filled spontaneous poetry and casting wary glances at their new queen. Cissa was aware she’d gained a reputation for being mostly nice—but only mostly. Monarching was hard!

  In her first official act, Queen Narcissus had sentenced the dastardly fairy Idris to thirteen hundred years locked inside the terrible cold iron cage of his own design. Not because the Dumnos fae had suffered thirteen hundred years under his regency—who was counting?—but because thirteen was such a bad number. A nasty number. Wherever horrible magic happened, the number thirteen was sure to be involved.

  Shoulders squared, back straight, head high—the queen now tried to appear as she vaguely remembered her mother, the noble and serene Queen Sifae, who had reigned over the Dumnos fae well over a thousand years ago. But it was so hard to sit still in one place for so long. When her head nodded, it was because she was about to fall asleep.

  Leprechauns were so boring!

  “Majesty, everyone knows the pixies are getting worse,” said Horace.

  Cissa glanced sideways, hoping for a little sympathy from her friend Morning Glory. On cue, the white-haired fairy rolled her eyes. Cissa’s sentiments exactly: What did the guy expect? They’re pixies.

  Horace pointed a bony finger at his nemeses. “The final blow, majesty, they spilled an entire bottle of port on a bolt of my finest silk brocade.”

  The pixies had the good grace to blush, but then they grinned and simultaneously threw their arms up, making jazz hands.

  “Silk is fine.”

  “It goes with wine!”

  They twinkled their fingers together, clasped hands, and spun in the air.

  Morning Glory couldn’t take it anymore. She laughed and flew up out of her chair, above the pixies, and tossed handfuls of exploding fairy dust over their heads.

  “See what I mean, majesty?” Horace said. “Incorrigible. I was saving that brocade especially. I wanted to make grow-booties for Lady Lexi’s gifting. Oh, it was the loveliest cloth. Soft and pink and gold and so glowy…”

  The leprechaun’s voice mellowed, and his clenched, hairy eyebrows came somewhat undone. He dropped his jabbing finger and looked off into the distance with a sigh weighted with sorrowful loss.

  At the mention of the gifting, Cissa perked up. Ah, that’s right!

  Surely she would see Max there. Who else would represent the Blue Vale? She’d heard he was working on a new project—it must be a present for Lexi. Not that she’d know about it from Max, but she had minions! Sprites and wisps were natural gossips. They kept her abreast of all the happenings of the Dumnos fae—including the comings and goings of unsociable goblins who kept to the Blue Vale.

  Naturally Max would be the one to present the gobs’ gift to the new little daughter of the earl and countess of Dumnos.

  Cissa clicked her sparkling red fingernails against the arm of the Moonstick Throne. In truth, she’d forgotten all about the gifting. What to give an infant who was but half fae? If only Max were here. He always had good ideas. But he never came to court anymore.

  “Horrible! Horrible wretches!” Horace jabbed at the air. The pixies had grabbed his hat and were dancing over his head, taunting him with it just beyond his reach.

  Cissa glowered. “How dare you ruin my grandniece’s gift?” She rose to her feet. “I should throw you in the bower for a week and a day. Teach you manners!”

  A collective gasp shot through the throne room. Even Horace looked shocked.

  “What?” Cissa said, incredulous. It wasn’t like she’d ever actually done it.

  The only prisoner locked in the horrific cold iron bower was its creator, Idris, and everyone agreed he belonged there.

  Still, all the Dumnos fae were bound by Brother Sun and Sister Moon to obey their monarch. If Queen Narcissus ordered the pixies to the cruel bower, they would be unable to refuse to go. Everyone in the room regarded her warily.

  It wasn’t supposed to be this way. True, she was impetuous. Yes, she had a temper. There was that time she banned a fairy from smelling any flower for a year and a day. And the time she told a poor hapless sprite to go jump in the lake, though sprites can’t abide any liquid but fresh, clean rainwater.

  When she accepted the moonstick crown, she had imagined it would be wonderful. She would be like her mother, generous, wise—lady bountiful! Songs would be written about her. Kings and princes of other courts would seek her hand in marriage.

  Not that she would ever marry. She’d never give someone claim over her that way. Ever. Though she wouldn’t mind being courted…

  Back to the matter at hand, she couldn’t believe the looks on the courtiers’ faces. Fairies, leprechauns, brownies, pixies, sprites, a wisp or two. The Dumnos fae. Her subjects. Her responsibility. Did they really believe she’d do them intentional harm? Submit any one of them to the agony of cold iron?

  She sighed. Being queen wasn’t the worst thing in the world—she loved telling other people what to do—but she was not having fun in her fabulous life. She was bored and unhappy. Trapped. She missed her old life and her old self, the fun-seeking fairy who liked to explore and find sparkly objects in interesting and unlikely places.

  Something was wrong with her these days. Something inside, a strange… feeling. She was… lonely.

  “But here’s the rift.” One of the pixies broke into her thoughts. “There will be no gift!”

  “The objection was hearty,” said t
he other. “She wants no party!”

  “Who says?” Cissa said. “Explain yourselves. Who wants no party?”

  “Lily… silly!”

  At this final rhyme, the pixies cracked themselves up beyond hope and collapsed on top of each other in spasms of belly laughs.

  “No gifting?” Morning Glory stopped spinning and settled to the ground. “That’s… awful.”

  “Unacceptable is what it is,” Cissa stomped her foot. That felt good. “You!” She glared at Morning Glory.

  “Me?” The fairy’s hair turned a paler shade of white.

  “Whether your daughter likes it or not, she’s part fae,” Cissa said, “And since she’s awakened to her fae nature, she’s under my command. That baby is my grandniece, and I say she’s having a gifting!”

  “As she should. Yes. Yes, I agree,” Morning Glory said. “I’m on your side.”

  “Go find Lily, right this minute. She might be a human countess, but I am queen of the Dumnos fae. Tell her there will be a gifting or… or… or she will face my wrath!”

  “Yes, majesty. Right away.” Morning Glory held out her hand, palm up, and her tether appeared. She clasped the choker around her throat and popped out.

  All the throne room was silent. No one would meet Cissa’s eye—none but the leprechaun, still waiting for satisfaction.

  “Oh, fine!” She sat back down impatiently. “You two pixies, come before me. And keep still.”

  What would Max do? Cissa truly missed the gob. She hadn’t seen him since he gave her the dewdrop bracelet. That was the day Max’s sister had been set free from the magic mirror. Everyone said her imprisonment had made her cuckoo. Maybe he was busy with her. Too busy, anyway, to give his queen the advice she needed.

  Cissa considered the pixies now. It was in their nature to be goofs. Max would say she must make them pay penance or chaos would reign instead of her, but she should not break their pixie spirits. The Dumnos fae was a light court, after all.

  “I have it!” She felt the grin spread over her face.

  “Eep!” said one pixie, her eyes wide.

  “Eek-eek!” The other trembled.

  All the throne room leaned in to hear the queen’s judgment. It was satisfying to feel everyone hanging on her next word, but Cissa would admit this only to herself.

  “The two of you will compose an epic poem about the gloriousness of all leprechauns,” Cissa said. “To be performed at the circle under the next full moon.”

  The courtiers loved it! Cissa beamed and accepted their applause and adoring gazes—until she came to the wounded Horace, still frowning.

  “What then?” she said. “Is it not enough?”

  The leprechaun quietly raised himself to full height, exasperated and yet dignified. “I should appreciate the return of my hat.”

  He was indeed bareheaded. Not good. Leprechauns hated having their hats messed with. It upset their equilibrium—which, of course, was the very reason pixies messed with their hats.

  Cissa raised an angry eyebrow, but before she could say a word, a huge, slouchy, purple velvet hat appeared and the two culprits arranged it on their victim’s head, brushing off imaginary cobwebs and fairy dust.

  “Here, Horace.”

  “Now don’t bore us!”

  Cissa raised a fisted hand to throw a smelly bomb spell at the pixies, but they popped out.

  “Thank you, Queen Narcissus,” Horace said. “You’re as wise as you are beautiful. And how wonderful! The gifting will now go forward.” A dreamy look invaded his eyes. No doubt he was contemplating the fabulous baby booties he planned to make.

  The other courtiers were on their feet, swarming toward her, coming to add their compliments and congratulations on how well she’d dealt with the problem and what a queenly queen she was. She couldn’t stand it.

  She ripped off her crown, set it on the Moonstick Throne, and popped out.

  « Chapter 2 »

  Cade

  Mudcastle

  Cade Bausiney parked the DB5 just off the Ring road and continued on foot through the ash and yew trees of the small wood. He passed the sacred lake and the Temple of Joy and Wonder and followed the scent of lilacs until he came to Mudcastle. The enchanted cottage was where his human mother lived with his biological father, a fairy of the Dumnos fae.

  And not just any fairy. Dandelion, a fae prince, should have been the king of the Dumnos court. Instead, he’d fallen in love—a most unfairylike thing to do—with Beverly and had given up his crown to be with her. His sister Cissa, Cade’s aunt, had accepted the throne in his stead.

  Until very recently, Cade hadn’t known any of that. Beverly had disappeared from Dumnos when he was a child, and everyone, including her husband and son, had thought her dead. In reality she’d been abducted, held captive by the wyrding woman Elyse for three decades—until Lilith came into Cade’s life, and together they had set Beverly free.

  Cade had been raised by his aunt Moo and the man he’d always believed was his father, James Bausiney, the earl of Dumnos. Sure Dumnos was strange country, but Cade couldn’t imagine life anywhere else.

  Before he could knock, the cottage door flew open and his mother came out to greet him. “Good, the summoning candle worked.” She threw her arms around him. “Hello, my darling boy. How is my granddaughter?”

  “Lexi is perfect,” Cade said. “Most adorable child ever.”

  “Of course she is. Tell Lilith I mean to pop over for a visit soon. Don’t worry. Max thinks it might be possible. He’s given me a glimmermist bodysuit to wear in the human realm. The theory is it will protect me from the oracle ring’s curse.”

  “Fantastic… if it works.” Cade crossed over the threshold into Mudcastle’s living area, and immediately the euphoric sense of well-being that marked the fae realm settled over him.

  He adored the mystical side of Dumnos and all the stories that came with it—especially the one about his ancestor, Donall Bausiney, who had encountered fairies at Faeview one Mischief Night in the 1870s and had taken the fairy cup from a party of fae who’d been drinking and dancing on the roof.

  Only it wasn’t a story. It was true, and the fairy who’d left the cup behind that night was Cade’s biological father, an immortal prince, who now handed Cade a tankard of what turned out to be goblin stout.

  “Thanks, Dandelion.”

  He couldn’t call the guy Father, or even Dad. Sure he was over two thousand years old, but Dandelion looked no more than twenty-five. Cade was thirty-seven. And he felt forty-seven with all the problems of Dumnos now on his shoulders.

  In all the talks he’d had with James about what it meant to be earl of Dumnos, the subject of human-fae relations had never come up.

  The fae were real! Cade still couldn’t quite believe it. And he was half fae. Faeling, they called it. There was Dandelion, Cissa. Morning Glory, Lilith’s mother—meaning Lilith was faeling too.

  The fae were everywhere. And Cade needed their help.

  The Sarumen family of Brienne’s court in London had lately insinuated themselves into the affairs of Dumnos in the human realm. Cade meant to stop them, and Dandelion had agreed to do what he could.

  “I asked Max to be here today because…” Dandelion’s eyebrows scrunched up.

  “Because he’s Max?” Cade smiled. He didn’t know a lot about Max, except that he was a goblin and quite clever.

  “Because he’s Max,” Dandelion agreed.

  “Hmph.” Max said.

  “I need to win back the Clad,” Cade said. “The Sarumens have gained control over more than fifty percent of the shares, and they mean to supply military contractors with Dumnos iron.”

  “Why would that be any worse than cold iron?” Max said.

  “Dumnos iron, or the steel made from it, should never be used in weapons,” Cade said. “Especially not small arms. It’s completely missed by metal detectors.”

  “I agree.” Max clenched his gnarled hands. “That would be a sin against the high gods.�
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  “When Jenna Sarumen showed up here at Mudcastle and tried to steal the enchanted mirror, she showed her wings. She betrayed the fact that she and, by extension, her family are fae.”

  “Everyone knows the Sarumen are fae,” Max said.

  “Perhaps everyone in the fae realm knows,” Cade said. “Most humans believe the fae are mythological beings.”

  Interesting that the goblin referred to them as the Sarumen, not the Sarumens. That was a difference between human and fae right there: humans were ultimately individuals; fae ultimately belonged to their court’s monarch—or, in this case, to their clan.

  “The Sarumen are under Brienne’s command, but she’s a weak queen,” Dandelion said, “and the London fae have gone dark, beyond the influence of Brother Sun and Sister Moon. Brienne keeps to the fae realm, while many of her subjects have always lived among humans. The Sarumen have had influence back to the time of the Romans.”

  “That explains the Sarumens’ connections throughout the human world,” Cade said. “Do you know of anything that can help me fight them?”

  Dandelion waved his hand, and another tankard of jasmine stout appeared. Beverly smiled at Cade, but he felt her anxiety. She was always trying to get him to take fae food and drink, hoping it would ensure him the long life of a faeling.

  “I don’t know the Sarumen,” Dandelion continued. “I never saw any of them in the faewood. Queen Sifae never married, but it was known she was committed to her consort. There was no reason for a foreign court to send suitors.”

  Her consort. This was how Dandelion spoke about his own father.

  “I wonder if the other fairy courts will send suitors to Dumnos now?” said Beverly.

  “Why?” Cade said. “I mean, that seems random.”

  “To woo Cissa,” Beverly said. She looked younger than Cade too, now that she lived at Mudcastle, a liminal space that phased between human and fae realms. It was all so disconcerting.

  Max grunted, then brought the conversation back on point. “I met Lord Sarumen once a long time ago, at Merlyn’s cave. I was in a foul mood, and he made it worse. He sat in a corner while Merlyn and I had… a conversation. I could feel the lust for power roiling within him.”