The Courting of Bristol Keats (The Courting of Bristol Keats, #1)

by Mary E. Pearson

With medium brown hair and height, she didn’t look like either of her parents.

Who were the faceless monsters that had made her parents run? Did she look like any of them?

He’d been struck too at how much time had passed, but time was always a capricious thing, speeding fast or slow at will. It was the one thing not even Tyghan could control.

“She has to choose, or it’s all for naught. The giving of a gift is a tricky thing. And we don’t even know for sure if she’ll be of use. You know how these matches are.”

He called her his no-nonsense problem solver after that because it wasn’t the last time she juggled a room full of demanding people, or defused tempers with a few careful words.

Cat would come on Friday nights and sing, and customers would swoon and get misty-eyed with the magic of her voice.

Their constant moving from town to town was confirmation that they were running from something—something that was relentless.

Bristol and Cat had always known their parents were lying to them about something, because maybe, the truth was too dangerous for them to know.

This was Kierus and Maire’s daughter. If she wasn’t useful one way, he’d make sure she was useful in another.

But the oppressive feeling was still there, like someone stood within inches, their heat radiating onto her.

She stood, surprised at the turnabout in her confidence.

“And surely you noticed that her eyes are hazel,” Eris added. Tyghan noticed. He shrugged. “Which usually means nothing.” “But sometimes it means a lot. They have a greater potential for change.”

“I saw your father with trows just before he disappeared,” she answered. Bristol swallowed. “Trows?” Willow took a few steps closer. “Mountain trows, vicious little creatures they are. Most of them no bigger than yay high.” She brushed her fingers across the middle of her thigh. “But size? That don’t mean nothing. They’re dangerous little devils. Teeth like knives.” Bristol wondered at the dark circles under Willow’s eyes, how gaunt she had become, and the strange raspy tone of her voice. “My father didn’t disappear, Willow. He’s dead.” “Hmm … that so?” Her bloodshot eyes widened. “You ever see a body?”

Trows. What were they? What did Willow mean? Got him. That trows killed him? Or they took him? Was it possible her father was still alive?

8. Never accept a gift from fae because then you owe one in return—and faeries never forget debts.

The Butcher of Celwyth was called many things, but never good.

“There was definitely something flying between them.”

“When Danu’s children were equal to their teachers, they were sent off with treasures to help them in their new lives. From Falias came the Stone of Destiny, to declare new queens and kings to govern their realm. From Gorias came the Spear of Lugh, which made the bearer prevail in battle. From Findias came the Sword of Light, which delivered only mortal blows. And from Murias came the Cauldron of Plenty, so Danu’s children would never go hungry.

“But there was a fifth treasure, created by the mother goddess herself, the only talisman of creation, the Eye of Danu, a golden needle Danu gave to her beloved daughter, Brigid, so she could thread a path from one world into another. A portal.”

Brigid used the Eye of Danu to divide the worlds, the first reserved for them and other magical beings, and a portal to a second world for the mortals to dwell in. Peace would be found at last. “The gods’ world grew in strength, beauty, and knowledge, no longer marred by the tides of war. Later, when they were called home to the Land of Promise by Danu, Brigid pricked her finger with Danu’s needle and held a drop of blood to the lips of three babies in the village. These daughters and their daughters to come will have the power as I do, to navigate between worlds, to create portals, and to close them. The power granted to me by my mother, Danu, I pass to them and to no others. “When they departed, the gods only left behind the Cauldron of Plenty and the Stone of Destiny. Over the centuries, those bloodmarked by Brigid multiplied and spread throughout Elphame, creating portals for anyone who requested one, until finally, portals were so plentiful that mortals stumbled into the fae world as often as if it were their own. Troubles began anew. To solve the problem, the twelve kingdoms of Elphame gathered and agreed that all but one hundred portals should be closed, and no new ones opened for the well-being of all. Thus it remained for generations. There was no use for Brigid’s bloodmarked anymore, and their gift faded away.”

Kierus’s broken oath burned in all of them.

Kasta tapped her lips with a knuckle. “But why would he risk it? Why come back?” Another long silence. “Because she’s back,” Tyghan answered. “We’ve had four reported sightings and the door to the Abyss has been reopened. He came back for Maire.”

“There’s more to greatness than power alone. The greatness lies in how you use it.”

Tyghan’s eyes met hers, a split-second lingering. There it was again. Some message she couldn’t decipher, like there was a history between them, a hidden language she was supposed to know. Like she had crossed him once.