Free Faerie Path #6: The Charmed Return by Frewin Jones Page B

had raged and the sky had grown dark and the Divine Harper’s outstretched finger had touched the center of her forehead and her mind had exploded.
    Scrambling out of bed, she glanced at the bedside clock: 7:03. Just after seven o’clock in the evening.
    She ran to the door and flung it open. She could hear subdued voices from the kitchen.
    Racing down the stairs, she arrived breathlessly at the kitchen doorway.
    They were all there, gathered at the table. Her Mortal mother and father; her two Faerie sisters; her best friend, Jade—and the love of her life, Edric. Her darling Edric!
    The voices stopped and every face turned to her.
    “Anita . . . ?” her father asked.
    “Tania?” Rathina ventured cautiously.
    She laughed. “Yes!” She gasped. “Both!” She stepped into the room. “I remember everything. The Faerie part of me has come back!”
    Edric stood up and she stepped into his arms, holding him, closing her eyes, and breathing him in. She could hear other voices, and feel hands on her shoulders and arms.
    She pulled away from Edric and turned to embrace Rathina and Zara.
    Poor Rathina! Doomed by love—fated never to be absolved of the terrible deeds done by her under Gabriel Drake’s thrall.
    And Zara, murdered on Salisoc Heath. But alive again now!
    “Thank you,” she said, hugging Zara even more fiercely. “Thank you so much!”
    Almost in tears, she turned to her mother and father; their arms enfolded her and she held them tightly.
    Her mother gazed deep into her eyes. “What would you like us to call you, sweetheart?”
    Tania drew back a little, looking at her father. “Would it be bad if I said Tania?”
    He smiled. “Not at all,” he said. “Tania it is.” He touched her cheek with his fingertips. “‘What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’”
    She took his hand, recognizing the quote from Romeo and Juliet .
    “Smart man, Shakespeare,” added her father.
    Jade pushed forward and threw her arms around her.
    “So, who are you now?” she asked. “Are you you , or are you her ?”
    “I’m both,” said Tania.
    “I knew it! Total schizoid!”
    Tania laughed. “Not really . . .”
    She turned again to Zara, taking both her hands, gazing into her eyes.
    “How?” she asked. “How can you be here?”
    “It is a curious tale,” said Zara. “The story of one who stood at the gates of Albion but did not pass through into the Blessèd Realm.” She drew one hand away from Tania and reached out toward Rathina. “How my journey began, I cannot say,” she told them. “I do not remember my death.”
    “I do,” murmured Rathina, taking Zara’s hand, her face pale and gaunt. “All too well.”
    Zara squeezed her fingers. “Hush now,” she said. “All that passes has its purpose in the great tapestry, and you shall see that my death was not vain.”
    She smiled around at the others. “I stood upon the threshold of Albion and the gates swung wide to welcome me in,” she continued, her voice as sweet as music. “But I could not go through. Something held me back. I turned and it seemed to me that I could see the realm of Faerie far, far below me, set like an emerald in the azure sea. A voice spoke to me. ‘Great perils beset the Immortal Realm—wouldst thou stretch out thy hand to bring alms to those whom thou hast left behind?’ And I said, yes, indeed I would, if I can. And the voice said, ‘Thou art dead, child of Faerie, and thou mayst not return to the land of thy birth, but these gifts I will grant thee. There is one who belongs both to Faerie and to the world of Mortals—through her shalt thou work thy wonders. Within the borders of Faerie thou may come to her only in her dreams.’”
    I shall weave you gentle dreams . . .
    Of course! That was why that snatch of nursery rhyme had stuck in her mind.
    Tania gazed at her sister, her throat constricted and tears pricking in her eyes. “You were the Dream Weaver!”
    “Indeed, I