Somehow, while she was talking to a fair for the first time, all she could think of asking was this: “How did you know where to find me?”
“Well you see, I was at Feytham castle,” he pointed off into the distance and she could just make out giant flowers sprouting and lights shining stacked on top of each other.
“That’s a castle?”
“Yes! I was there working on my studies when I saw your light bow arch in the sky!”
“My 'light bow?’”
“This big strip of light in the sky, you see?”
She gazed at the arch of light she had seen before again. It reminded her of the books she would read about people who journeyed to space and were stranded on planets with rings. She imagined it looked a little something like that. “I see it.”
“Well, that’s you. And once the bow fades back into itself like the reversal of a waterfall, that means your visit with us is over. See, it’s already done a little.”
“So, I have until that long to stay here until I’m sent back?”
He nodded, and then his face turned grave and he knelt before her to look her eye to eye. From here she could see how smooth and sparkly his skin was. It was like he was made of a new type of crystal, one that breathed and flew in the heavens. “...Miss Jemma? You’ve lit the fireplace haven’t you? That’s how you got here, yes?”
She blinked. She must have not been listening. "Y-Yes. I suppose I did, that’s right.”
“Well, in your world, the fireplace is alight, but it also dies because there is no one there to nurture it and keep it aflame. So it will die. Both lights will. But if you keep lighting it—you can come back as many times as you want!”
“I can?”
“Yes, of course!”
“Wait—so des this mean you know Mr. Moore, then?”
His eyebrows softened. “Is Mr. Moore still there?”
Jemma nodded silently.
His eyes dropped. His eyelashes looked impossibly soft like his hair and she wondered if they held any magical properties. “He was a visiter and a very good friend. But he’s been banned from ever coming back to Feytham.”
“Mr. Moore?” She said in a disbelieving tone, “That old man?”
“He wasn’t always old,” he said, “Last he was here, a lot of people were hurt. Some betrayed.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Say, there’s something you can do for me.”
“Yes?”
“You must promise not to tell Mr. Moore you come here, for fear he might get hurt as well. I don’t know what the Feytham guard would do if he showed his face again.”
Two promises in the same day. That was the most she'd ever made in her life. So far, she hadn't kept the first. But the second, thankfully, was worth keeping. “Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m actually here against his will.”
“Oh, well then. Shall we actually go see Feytham?”
“To the castle?”
“Well, yes, that is where I live last I checked.”
“Wait—does that make you a prince?”
He smiled. “The one and only. Come on.”
She grabbed his hand and set off for the city of fairies.
Her time with the prince was irreplaceable. It was perfect. He flew them all over the city to see the sights, they never set foot upon the ground again. And when her bow started to get closer to the horizon, he brought her back to where they began, promising her to show her the inside of the castle next time.
Again, he knelt before her. “You can come back, alright? I’ll see you real soon, so no crying,” he said, wiping tears off her cheek.
She let out a small sob. She knew she’d be back, but it didn’t make saying goodbye to the best day of her life any easier. “Thank you.”
She could find no other words to say so she gave him a hug. Her face smushed against his stomach. Her body was beginning to fade, she could feel it, a small tingling feeling. And so she focused on the tangible. The warmth of his coat. The rise and fall of his breathing. The ghostly beating of his heart. The smell of fresh roses.
He gave her a small squeeze. “Until the next light, Jemma.”
And everything was cold again. The fireplace showed no trace of being used. It didn’t smell of ash at all. Jemma sat up and looked out the nearest window. There wasn’t much to see that wasn’t dreary and drab and grey clouds, but she did believe the sun was rising.
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