Love's Nest Read online

  The man’s lips were the same pink as his hair, and his eyes were blue, fierce—as though they contained a soul stronger than his form. Mateo’s blood coursed. He was as captured by the look of this man as he’d been captivated by the sensual lure of the water. Mateo swallowed hard, hesitating. Did he dare get in? He must to follow his sisters.

  Mateo stepped forward and the creature smiled. Frozen in place, Mateo checked that he still wore the cloak. Lámina’s voice echoed in his mind. The one who sees you despite the cloak’s magic is a friend.

  “Ópalo!” the man rowing Luz called as distance grew between his boat and the shore. “Next time, perhaps.”

  Ópalo, for that must be his name, did not look away, keeping his eyes on Mateo’s own. “One moment more.” He quirked his lips into a small, amused smile and rested his oar against the side of the boat.

  Mateo took a step forward and Ópalo’s eyes lit up. He lifted his chin slightly, almost imperceptibly, with a motion that indicated Mateo should come. Mateo lifted his hand in a small wave, and Ópalo nodded his head and smiled. It was a toothy, pretty thing that made Mateo catch his breath and take a step back.

  Surely not.

  “Come!” Luz’s man called again.

  “Patience, Azulejo!” Ópalo answered.

  “We must not be late to the dancing.”

  “You must not. I can be as late as I wish.”

  “Stay then, and yearn for your bride to come. It changes nothing,” Azulejo said before bending himself to the oars, speeding Luz away at an alarming rate.

  Seeing Luz’s white nightgown and dark, shining head disappear across the lake broke Mateo from his shocked state, and he quickly clambered into the boat with Ópalo. He ignored the offered hand as he stepped aboard, causing the boat to rock dangerously, nearly toppling them both out. Mateo’s stomach lurched, and there was a spray of cold water against his face as Ópalo steadied the boat with his oar, digging it into the bottom of the lake. Mateo sat down quickly.

  “Pardon me!”

  Ópalo grinned, his blue eyes—blue as a summer sky—twinkling, and his lips spread again into that beautiful smile. “No need to be so formal.”

  Mateo wasn’t sure what to make of the casual tone, but there was nothing customary about the situation. He’d traveled with his sisters into a magical realm while hidden beneath a cloak that rendered him invisible, and which had apparently determined in some unfathomable way that this man, of all men, was to be Mateo’s friend. He knew he should find more comfort in that, but he felt quite the opposite. It was hard to concentrate over the ceaseless thrumming in his veins.

  Ópalo went on. “I’m so glad you came. I’ve waited for you. You have no idea how long.”

  Up close, Mateo could see that Ópalo seemed made of the shifting light from the diamond forest, his skin a mottle of beautiful colors that glowed breathtakingly in the moonlight. His eyebrows and eyelashes were pink, like the hair on his head, except that none of it was hair. Instead he had feathers, longer and thicker on his head, but short and fine around his eyes. His eyelashes appeared to be the daintiest feathers that Mateo had ever seen. And Mateo, out of either the arrogance of royalty or the shock of the moment, reached out a hand to feel them, only pulling back from touching the beautiful oddness at the last moment.

  “I apologize.”

  Ópalo shook his head, and then reached out to grab Mateo’s hand with a strong grip. He leaned forward, offering his eyebrows and hair up to Mateo’s touch.

  Mateo pulled back without making contact, a belated terror pumping through him. “Who? What?”

  “Shh,” Ópalo said softly. “They can hear. Sound carries over the water. You’re hiding for a reason?”

  Mateo swallowed, nodded his head, and realized he was shaking.

  “There will be time to talk at the dance. Everyone will be busy and it’s quite loud. Lean back. Relax. We’ll go now.” Ópalo’s voice was warm and sweet.

  Mateo sat straight as an arrow until the rhythm of the waves and Ópalo’s quiet regard lulled him. The water lapped against the side of the boat, the oars splishing and splashing as the boat glided smoothly on and on. The moonlight rippled against the undulating lake as far as Mateo could see. Perhaps it was not a lake at all, but an endless sea.

  His limbs loosened, and Mateo discovered he was very tired. It was late, and he’d walked quite far. He leaned his head back against a cushion and looked at the night sky, seeing no constellation with which he was familiar. He brought his gaze back to Ópalo, who still studied him with intent admiration.

  “Why do you watch me?” Mateo asked quietly.

  “Haven’t you ever been hungry?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “When you’re hungry and food is set before you, what do you do?”

  The thrumming that had at last dissipated under the steady pull of the boat over the water roared through Mateo again. Could the cloak be wrong? Perhaps these people consumed humans and Ópalo was not a friend at all. Perhaps they were taking him and his sisters to be a feast for trolls in fairyland. For that’s where they were, Mateo had no doubt. His sisters were in fairy thrall and now so was he, drowsing on a fairy lake, under the gaze of a fairy man with luscious lips and sparkling sky-colored eyes.

  “Are you going to eat us?”

  Ópalo’s laughter was a joyous, riotous twitter of early morning birds in spring, and Mateo heard it echo across the lake. So much for being quiet. “Of course not, mi pájaro.”

  Mateo narrowed his eyes. My bird? Lámina sometimes called him that. It was quite the liberty, but no doubt things worked differently here, and Lámina had said that this man was meant to be his friend. Mateo cocked his head, took in Ópalo’s handsome face, long neck and strong hands on the oars. Yes, perhaps somehow…more than a friend. “Then what?”

  Ópalo murmured, “I only mean that I can feast my eyes on you.”

  Mateo didn’t say anything for a long time after that. There were too many questions crowding his mind. Finally, Mateo indicated his cloak. “How…?”

  How did you know of the cloak? Why is it you who can see me when others cannot? How did you know I hid from my sisters? Who exactly are you and who are the others with my sisters? How, pray tell, has this come to pass?

  Yet Mateo couldn’t form the words.

  “Lámina must have explained the cloak to you,” Ópalo said.

  Mateo sat up, jostling the boat. “You know Lámina?”

  “She was once our old friend. She’s the fairy who preferred to live with humans.”

  “Lámina?”

  Ópalo chuckled softly. “Yes, that’s her name.” He went back to Mateo’s previous question. “As for how—well, oh, surely you know?”

  “We’ll become friends.”

  Ópalo’s cheeks flushed and the feathers on his head seemed to bristle. He rowed more quickly as he grew flustered. “Yes. Friends. So first, I hope you come to trust me.”

  Mateo’s head churned faster than the oars dipping into the lake. “Trust you.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes and peered around. “Truly this is all astounding. And Lámina is a fairy?”

  “She was,” Ópalo said. “When she left our world, she became something other. Closer to human, farther from fairy.” As he said the words, the truth of them seemed so clear.

  The details of the stories Lámina told them their whole childhood flooded Mateo’s mind—a lake, fairies with feathers for hair, twelve lovers destined for twelve fae.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “For the fae lack your strength, children.”

  They were crowded onto and around Lámina’s bed, all twelve of them. There was barely air to breathe, they all huddled so close. Even the eldest triplets had elbowed their way to good spots on the mattress next to Lámina’s outstretched legs.

  It was a special night, for Mateo and Luz no longer required the care of a nurse, and Lámina was to be given a cottage near a wide plot of land. There she could grow herbs and help Mateo with the dovecote being built for him. This was to be one of the last nights she would spend with the children in the castle.

  Mateo felt tears burn his eyes at the thought of her leaving. But he was twelve, and it was nearly as embarrassing to have an old nurse tending to him as it was painful to let her go.

  “Old Lámina tells you the truth! Fae cannot live as magical creatures in the human realm. Unlike you, who can pass back and forth with nary a change to your strong human blood. Every hour that a fairy spends in the human realm saps him of his essence, until eventually he may never return to fairyland.”

  “That’s why they kidnap us,” Imelda had said, her dark head rising above Mateo’s own. “To marry us and have stronger children, ones who can pass between the worlds?”

  Lámina shrugged and reached out to grip Mateo’s chin, looking him over closely. “I suppose they’d take the lot of you as mates and happily spend their love on you, it’s true. And your children could pass between the worlds more easily than those of fae blood alone. Though it’s not just your children they want, but your human hearts as well. Listen to old Lámina. Human love strengthens and stabilizes their world. The royal family has always made alliances with humans, and always will.”

  “Why? Is their world falling apart?” Mateo asked, imagining a world like the old dovecotes he’d seen while riding with his father, in need of strong beams to replace the old, cracking wood, and a coat of good plaster to hold the structure steady.

  “It is at that,” Lámina said. “But aren’t they all, though?”

  “Is it a structural problem?” Mateo went on. “Has a support beam gone bad?”

  His sisters groaned and jostled about on the bed.

  “Sí, it is just as you describe, Mateo.”

  “Can’t they have a carpenter look at it?” he asked. “Love doesn’t seem like it would do much to fix a structural problem.”

  “Worlds are not like dovecotes,” Lámina whispered, and all the sisters leaned close as they always did when she spoke quietly. No one wanted to miss a word, for Lámina’s secrets were always worth hearing. “Giving and accepting love is the real strength. Remember that when the time comes. Remember that, mi pájaro.”

  Mateo nodded up at her, mouthing the words “I promise” so that she smiled at him, showing her brown, stained teeth.

  “And if the human doesn’t love them?” Luz asked eagerly, if a bit bloodthirstily. “If the human heart isn’t so easily theirs to enjoy? Will they perhaps eat it? A sort of heart-shaped cake?”

  “Yes, Lámina,” Imelda said, her dark eyes glinting. “Would they murder us with their sharp fairy claws and teeth?”

  Lámina’s smile was slow and kind, almost like she pitied Luz and Imelda for asking. “Listen to old Lámina. You love the fae. You always love them and they always love you. It is how it is. It is how it shall be.”

  Mateo felt the truth of her statement deep in his bones, and he settled in close to her, wanting to tell Lámina he loved her, but knowing his sisters would mock him for the babyish sentiment.

  “Tell us the story of the fairy king and his twelve children,” Adelita requested. “I haven’t heard that one in years.”

  “Because you have been ‘too grown up’ for old Lámina’s stories for years. Or so you’ve said as you scoff at your siblings for their bedtime tales.” She scolded, but her voice was full of affection.

  Adelita settled in closer, smiling at Lámina sweetly. Lámina reached for Luz and pulled her up to tuck under her other arm, freeing up a bit of space on the mattress for Gracia to slide into.

  Beneath her warm chin, snug against her soft nightdress, Mateo’s hand resting on her wrinkled, dry arm, Mateo vowed he would never be too grown up for Lámina’s stories.

  “In a kingdom very close and yet very far, there lives a fairy king and his twelve fairy children. Merry, smart and talented, they each await a chance at human companionship in hopes of strengthening their kingdom…”

  Chapter Four

  The oars had not ended their rhythmic splashing, and Ópalo still gazed at Mateo with the same steady expression as Mateo reeled in the memory.

  “You’ve been expecting us.”

  Ópalo nodded.

  “I apologize if I’m slow to understand, but I thought they were only stories.”

  “It’s understandable and I find your confusion charming.”

  Mateo had no words for that, and instead latched on to a story from the memory. “Your father is the king of this realm?” Mateo confirmed.

  “Was the king, yes. He died.”

  “Lo lamento.”

  Ópalo smiled again, his eyes crinkling at the edges, his pink, feathered lashes brushing against his flushed cheeks. “You are very polite, mi pájaro. Truly, you are charming.”

  Mateo’s stomach fluttered in response to the flattery.

  “My eldest brother has inherited the throne of this land, and my siblings and I assist him as necessary.” Here Ópalo motioned with his head to the other boats to illustrate his relationship to the fae escorting Mateo’s sisters.

  At least if his sisters had been compromised then it had been with royalty. Fairy royalty of course, but perhaps that was not so very terrible?

  “When your sisters arrived without you day after day, I nearly despaired.” Ópalo nodded to the east. “Look, morning breaks.”

  Mateo turned away from Ópalo and yes, the sun’s rays broke over the horizon. The light cast the lake into a fiery sparkle, as though each wave was opal. His heart jolted and Mateo gasped. “It’s morning! Papá! He’ll see that we’re gone!”

  “Shh, quiet,” Ópalo said, lifting one of his fine hands to silence Mateo. “Your father will still be sleeping. He’ll sleep for days of our time. There’s no need to rush. However, the portal is always open from our side. Whenever you wish to return simply say the word and I’ll take you back to the shore.”

  “Always open on this side, but not on the other?”

  “Your sisters tell us the portal only opens at night on your side, once a day for a short time.”

  “How short?”

  “I don’t know. It stays open for as long as it should, and not a moment longer. Magic doesn’t often follow rules.”

  “But how? The portal leads to my sisters’ chambers. This was by design?”

  “I believe Lámina chose. I know little of her magic, except that it finally brought you to me. And that she made sure the portal was always open on this side, so you and your sisters can leave freely.”

  Mateo stared at the sunlight shifting on Ópalo’s skin, washing away the rainbow opalescence of the night, and leaving him a pale, beautiful bird of a man. His feathers shone in the light, his eyes brighter than before, and his lips looked plump as pillows in the clear morning sun. There was no reason to believe him, and yet there was no reason to doubt him either.

  Ópalo grinned. “You’re very handsome. Dark as you are, with such red lips.”

  Mateo’s face grew hot, his blood rushing pleasurably.

  Ópalo didn’t stop there. “And you’re every bit more human than I could have hoped.”

  Everything about Ópalo was like gazing on something too good to be true, like the sweetest, most lovely cake the castle baker had ever constructed. Mateo felt sure that eating such a thing would leave him aching for more and less. It was tempting, but ultimately superficial. Mateo’s pulse quickened, but he hardened himself. Friendship was one thing, but if this fairy intended to feast on love from Mateo’s human heart, he was going to have to work harder than that.

  “Nothing but sugar. Your words are too sweet and lack sustenance.”

  Ópalo’s eyes laughed at him. “I see that friendship will not be granted without good cause, no matter what your cloak has declared.”

  “You see correctly. And you’ll find I am not always so polite.”

  “You’re quite forgiven. Look at the sunrise. Watch how it comes up over the bridge.”

  The bridge? Were they finally getting somewhere then?

  Mateo turned and saw the boat carrying Luz slip beneath an arched stone bridge. On the other side was a castle—the largest, most ornate castle that Mateo had ever seen. As they rowed closer the light hit the great structure and Mateo gasped. Each cupola, each arch, every window and door casing—of which there were hundreds—and each buttress big and small were all built of birdhouses. White birdhouses, gold birdhouses, tangled together and stacked one upon another, a feat of design and engineering, lifting the castle into the blue sky.

  As the shadow of the bridge passed over them, a trumpet sounded, and there was a great noise, the flutter of thousands of wings as a swirl of birds flew out of the houses of the castle and swept through the sky before careening back again, swooping low and screeching.

  Mateo stared in wonder, shielding his head when some dropped exceedingly low and close.

  “They won’t hurt you,” called Ópalo over the noise. “It’s only our cousins welcoming your sisters home. And you, of course.”

  “Home?” Mateo turned to Ópalo. “How can this be their home when they’ve spent all their years in our father’s realm?”

  “Time is different here, mi pájaro.”

  The repetition of the odd endearment was a prickling reminder of how far out of his depth he was in this strange land. He felt dizzy and a little sweaty. The calling of the birds was too loud in his mind, and the amazing tower before him dwarfed all of his previous ideas of what was possible. “My bird? You dare to address a prince in this way? Not once but many times?”

  “I do, yes.”

  “Do you care nothing for the possible consequences of such an affront?”

  Ópalo’s mouth twitched. “No. I do not.”

  Mateo narrowed his eyes. Being trapped as he was on a boat in the middle of the vast lake, he said only, “Such liberties! Speaking to me as a friend when you don’t even know my name.” Mateo drew up, attempting to look more regal, as he did when he practiced for court functions in the mirror. Ópalo seemed amused, which left Mateo rather certain he’d failed.