Free By the Light of the Moon by Laila Blake Page B

The library was almost exclusively lit by oil lamps, which while dangerous to the gilded paper in the wrong hands, was better than open daylight, which was dangerous always, eating at the fibers every minute, every hour of every day. But it made the library a stiff closed-up place that lacked the freedom to look out into the distance, save for those few thin slabs toward the ceiling which allowed some fresh air to flow when opened. Now, it just showed a sliver of sky, a grayish blue swirl of clouds.
    “Some say they have always been here or came here one day, same as us.” Brock continued when he realized that an expression of general ignorance had failed to satisfy his charge’s curiosity. “Others say they were a hostile force intent on conquering the realm.”
    “That’s how Father tells it,” Moira said quietly. “The Fae were intent on enslaving humanity, just as they enslaved the Blaidyn in order to attain that power. But humanity fought back and prevailed … ”
    Brock narrowed his eyes at her but didn’t say anything. Moira remembered little of the dates or wars Brock talked about when they turned their lessons to history, but she remembered other comments. There was the war for the city of Lauryl just before her father was born and Brock had shown her history books and the way they described as a force of conquering heroes, saving the city from a ruinous regime. But he had also told her of that regime the way he remembered it as a young man and how from his perspective, the conquering heroes had been nothing of the sort.
    Nobody had ever told her what kind of people Fae really were. She couldn’t quite believe the stories of their powers; strange and outlandish and utterly too much like something a bolstering hero would want to hear about his enemies in a song about his victory.
    “Why did the Blaidyn betray them?” she asked next, carefully crossing her legs under the long woolen gown and brushing her hair back, where always it defied the braid and little pins.
    “They … thought that they would be better off throwing in their lot with humans,” Brock explained hesitantly. “According to legend, the Fae created them because death to an immortal is a horrifying prospect and they were dying by the dozen. They needed a force that would enable them to fight wars without as many casualties among their ranks.”
    Moira nodded thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t want to live like that either.”
    “Everybody has their role to play, my lady.”
    She didn’t reply, just looked at the map and shrugged after a long time.
    “Blaidyn are strong, very strong and very fast. They were a valuable addition to any army. They decided the war.”
    “But there aren’t songs sung about them,” she said when her mouth felt like forming words again. She didn’t know what it was that made her feel uneasy or on edge, or why she needed to talk about these issues, but Brock was the only person she could ask.
    “They killed thousands of men before they turned on their masters,” Brock explained with a shrug. “Treason can be necessary, but it is never heroic, milady.”
    “Why is it treason?”
    Brock looked at her face. She seemed utterly innocent in that moment and he felt a familiar surge of sympathy for the strange girl. Just for a flutter of her heavy eyelids, he had the desire of the younger man to touch those flyaway strands of hair and set her mind to rest but he quickly quelled those urges.
    “I assume you are speaking philosophically?” he asked, a hint of a smile on his face.
    “Well, if they were created to serve someone … they never had a choice. Nobody ever asked them if they wanted to fight for people who just needed them to die for their wars. They never promised, or if they promised, they had no choice. Treason is if … ” but her voice gave out against the steady glance of her tutor.
    “Treason is the act of defiance against your betters, Moira,” he said gently, not unaware of her struggles and