mused, the kind who had also been a knight, leading his men into war.
Fanciful thinking, she reflected. But what more in life did she have to do than think whimsical thoughts as she waited for the future to unfold?
“The village green looks remarkable, does it not?” Mercy said. “I adore Beltane. One day I would love to take part in the festivities. I wish it could be tonight! The weather is very fine and the moon is full.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if you had a dance around the maypole,” Prudence murmured.
“You know what will happen if I go to the green,” Mercy replied as she tied the long pink satin ties of her bonnet. “Everyone will run away as though I have the plague.”
No one replied. What could they say? It was the truth. The villagers were superstitious and as a consequence gave the sisters wide berth. The only ones not afraid to speak to them were rogues and rakes who were far too bold and who wanted nothing more than a bit of immoral fun. Which was something that their inherent virtues forbade.
But Mercy, with her virtue of kindness, was more easily forgiving of their lot in life. For her, it was easier to accept. At least, Chastity believed it to be so, for Mercy never complained.
“It is for the best that they are wary,” Prudence reminded them. “We aren’t like the others. And the fact has never been made more clear than now that we’ve reached our womanhood.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” admonished Mary, “you make us out to be pariahs. We’re not, you know.”
Chastity cast a glance to Mary, the eldest of the four, as they walked down the high street. Mary was not like herself, Mercy or Prue. She was altogether different. What virtue Mary possessed had never been very clear. She was far from humble, so the virtue of humility was out; so too was charity, for Mary was notoriously ham-fisted when it came to sharing. Perhaps she was the virtue of diligence? She certainly did have a very great enthusiasm for the opposite sex, and her pursuit of them.
“We are pariahs, Mary,” Prue’s stern voice intruded on Chastity’s thoughts. “It is a fact that cannot be denied.”
“Well, I have no difficulty whatsoever in finding friends, male or otherwise.”
Indeed, she did not. There were always circles of men around Mary for she was the prettiest of them all. Although they had been born within minutes of each other, they all looked different from the other. Mary possessed startling black hair and dark eyes. She was exotic and breathtaking. Chastity could not help but notice just how breathtaking as she walked alongside her. The men, it seemed, preferred Mary’s dark looks to Chastity’s fair hair and green eyes.
“I fear that you all will die old maids,” Mary admonished. “You put too much stock in what you should be instead of what you could be.”
“Have you not listened to anything Father has told us?” Prue asked, censure in her voice.
“I don’t believe in Father’s absurd stories about a faery queen bequeathing to him daughters who bore the virtues. It’s nonsense.”
Mary had never been a believer. But then, her sister felt unrestrained joy and mirth. She felt desire when a male caller came to tea, or when a rogue asked her to dance. Mary had experienced things that her other three sisters never had. Life.
Perhaps if Mary had been forced to live the life of a true virtue, Chastity mused, she would find herself believing in faery tales—or at the very least the frightening ones.
“If you three would allow yourself to leave the estate, you might find a suitor. It is your eccentric natures that make others suspicious, nothing more. Smile, flirt, flash a bit of ankle or bosom for once, you might be surprised what it will induce.”
“You are far too liberal in your dealings with others,” Prue cautioned. “It is better to be temperate and even.”
“And boring as the devil,” Mary returned. It was a direct hit. But Prue bore it well as she always did.
“Come now, we’re sisters,” Mercy whispered, linking her arms with Prue and Mary. “What is there left, if not kindness between us?”
“I’m only trying to help,” Mary sniffed. “For I have no wish to see you all end up as old maids, and I for one will not sit in my tower room becoming one with you. Tonight I am going to the green, and I am having a dance and a meat pie, and I’m going to go a-Maying as all other young ladies do. There is no harm in it, Prudence,” Mary snapped, “so you may put away your pinched lips and your disapproving frown. Now, who is coming with me?”
Her question was met with absolute silence. “As I thought. You three are utterly hopeless.”
The twigs cracked beneath the horses’ hooves as they emerged from the edge of the woods. Before them, sunlight filtered through the leaves that whispered around them. The hounds they brought sniffed the air, their ears alert, their dark, obsidian eyes watching the humans as they prepared for the Beltane festival.
Niall’s words seemed to whisper all around them. Some by sin rise, and some by virtue fall …
“Do you believe him? Our king’s belief that our curse will end once we find these virtues?”
Thane shrugged at Kian’s question as he watched the approach of four women down the path. Niall, while king of the Dark Fey, was also his half brother. As the eldest, Niall had always seemed awe inspiring to Thane, who was younger by five years. He had never had occasion to doubt Niall, nor had his older brother ever been proven wrong. They had very little to go on in regards to the curse, so why not trust in Niall and his vision?
“Seems a great folly to put any stock in the Bard’s words,” Rinion grumbled. “He’s only a human after all.”
“Shakespeare,” Avery grunted. “I only cared for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. But then, I’m partial to Titania.”
“To fucking the mortal actress who plays Titania,” Kian corrected.
Thane raised his hand to silence their banter. Pointing to the women, he commanded silence, then waved his hand, concealing their presence with faery glamour. If the women were to look their way, they would see only the iridescent glimmer of a sunbeam sparkling through the trees.
Convinced they could not be seen or heard, Thane turned to his companions. “Niall would not have sent us here if he supposed it was foolishness. Every one hundred years, the virtues are born into the mortal realm. They have been born. And they are of age. Our king believes that this is the only way to break his mother’s curse on our court.”
“Do you think the time is right?” Avery asked as he reined in his black steed to a halt. The women were close and the faery mount could smell their presence. “It’s only been six months since we were here to bury Irian’s woman.”
“And you stole that maid from the village,” Kian snapped.
Damn him, Kian was intent on starting something with Avery. Thane sent his twin a hard glare, which Kian naturally returned.
Like Niall, Thane’s twin was a fey prince, possessed with the cardinal sin of envy. Thane could see the jealousy in his brother’s eyes as he glared at Avery, who harbored the sin of gluttony.
