It was very nice tea. 

It had taken me a mortifying amount of time to regain my composure, and I had to admit that the sugary, floral sweetness had really settled nerves that were jangling like the keys on an old harpsichord. It helped if I kept my eyes on the cup. It had been so long, so so long since anyone had managed to sneak up on me. Being surprised like that had dredged up a deep, visceral reaction. One that came with beautiful technicolour memories of all the terrible things that had often followed such an event. For a moment there, standing in that dark forest, I could feel Silen’s hands on me again and that almost made me scream. 

She had been very apologetic though, which in and of itself was strange. 

The fey sat across the table from me, in a cottage that was almost but not quite normal. Her hair was full of twigs, and her expression one of deep concern. Had I never met one of the fey before, I would have taken her for light. Her eyes were a blue so pale that they seemed to glow. Everything about her was pale, from skin to hair. She had a face like a heart, and lips like a bow. She was truly a being of heart-aching beauty. 

She was most definitely not light though. I could feel the power in her from across the room. It was deep and it was heavy and sat upon the tongue in much the same way that Umbra’s presence did. She was no god of death, but in her own little corner of the world, she had become something. Maria is what she had introduced herself as. I doubted that was her original name. It was not unheard of for creatures like the fey to become minor godlings - something more than a simple Other, but lesser than a true god. They were often gods of tiny things, inconsequential details that were passed over by most folk. Gods of warm hearths, of seeds sprouting, of music and of joy. Little pleasures that most normal people took for granted, but that few would ever think to thank someone for. 

Where I had grown up, there had been many tiny shrines to gods such as Maria. Little nooks that were barely more than indents in the walls scraped out by worshipping fingers. I had visited many such shrines, on the deeper levels of Erozarinth’s chalk caves, clutching the stubs of candles sent by folk wishing for tiny scraps of good fortune from obscure deities. 

My gaze was still fixed squarely on the tea swirling around my cup. I kept it clutched between both palms, following the gentle swirl of a single tea leaf that bobbed in caramel coloured water. It was soothing, in a way. My heart was slowing, coming back under my control. 

The little godling reached across the table, and laid a flawlessly pale hand against mine. My heart short-circuited for a moment, stuttering. A pit of anxiety had been growing within me since Tiru had left that morning, and meeting the dark fey had almost pushed me over a precipice I was desperately trying to avoid. 

“I’m so sorry for startling you so, darling.” I looked up then, into those luminous eyes. They almost seemed too large for her face. There were strange, tiny symbols painted in the middle of her forehead in a glowing white paint. Her voice seemed impossibly breathy, and sing-song. “I got a little excited when I realised I had a guest. The little villagers don’t visit me much anymore.”

She looked wistful then, and I had to wonder just how long it had been since anyone had brought her an offering. The teeth had looked new, but then so had everything else. There was a power in these little gods to keep things pristine. They tended to cherish their offerings, to care for each and every item left for them with a single mindedness that was almost endearing. 

I had to remind myself that there was precious little endearing about dark fey. If there was something in a swamp eating children, they would certainly fit the bill. Centuries of menfolk trying to eradicate them had seen to that. There was possibly no group that had been more attacked by humanity than fairies, and certainly no other group of Others had ever waged such vicious wars with their non-gifted counterparts as these.

It baffled me somewhat that villagers had ever offered a tithe to such a being. But if the fey before me was one thing and one thing only, it was baffling. I had to shake my head, sharply. Looking at her for too long made my nose tickle, and my eyes start to glaze. I needed to remember why I was there, and hold onto that. 

“A child. There was a child from the village. They disappeared.”

The willowy fey seemed to sag a little, in the most thoughtlessly elegant way I had ever seen a person move. Those massive blue eyes were watery when she reached out again to curl her fingers around mine and the cup I still held. 

“Oh thank goodness, darling. I thought no one would ever come.