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Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart.
-----A Midsummer Night's Dream.
***
The first thing Kaye did to the shop, the day after she bought it, was to paint it green.
The paint was thick. They'd made it themselves, Kaye and Corny and Luis, using distemper made from the thick rabbit skins that Roiben had harvested from the Night Court's hunters. Kaye could smell the thick, heady smell of the rabbits and the pigment as she stood in front of the eastern wall, holding a heavy brush in one hand. The walls were old wood. The shop had been a bakery, once upon a time, and she could still smell the flour clinging to the walls and crevices along the floor.
She painted a long stroke against the wood of the wall experimentally. In her head, there was molding along the ceiling painted in sheer, shimmering gold. The paint stroke began to drip.
"You know," Corny said from behind her, through a mouthful of Thai food, "you could just glamour it all."
"Too easy," Kaye murmured, watching the paint droplets run down the wall. It had only been a month since Roiben's gain of the two crowns of the Seelie and Unseelie courts. She was surprised at how easy it had been to get the shop: one of Ellen's friends had saw it on the way home from a show and had written down the number on the sign in the dusty window. "I want to be able to see it for what it is."
"Good plan," Luis agreed, from behind her, and Kaye turned, brush still in hand, shrugging at the pair, who sat on the floor of the shop on top of an old quilt that had once covered Kaye's bed, holding their takeout boxes and eating with plastic utensils.
Kaye could smell the iron from the stove in the kitchen, and could feel the dull, familiar pulse from Luis's piercings as she leaned forward and grabbed a piece of duck from the box he was holding. She felt a brief wave of nausea wash over her before she plopped the meat in her mouth and chewed delicately.
"Is Val coming?"
"That bad, huh?" Corny's sympathetic tone made Kaye cringe on the inside. She didn't like how easily he could read her face despite it's carefully placed expression and her green, shimmering skin. "I told her to bring some potions. She'll be here in half an hour."
Kaye watched Corny's hands as they wound themselves through Luis's long cornrows, feeling jealousy well up in her stomach. One month. She'd seen Roiben three times since the day they'd buried David. Three times, and each time he'd looked more harrowed, as if the ownership of both kingdoms had run him ragged.
She didn't know why she had thought it would be so easy.
"I have to go," she said abruptly.
"Where?" Luis's good eye was immediately alert and focused on her. Ever a reminder of her people. She knew he could see her for what she was, despite the glamour she'd wound loosely around her face, and she fought the feeling of adversity that rose up with that realization. Sometimes Kaye felt as if Luis could see into her, not just her face but-everything inside. Her thoughts, her desires, her dreams.
"Out," she said.
"Why?" Corny lifted a piece of duck into the air, waving it around her face. "There's duck. And we only just got here."
"I've been here for hours," Kaye said, picking at the skin next to a fingernail.
"It's Christmas Eve," Corny said. "There's not going to be anything open-"
"I don't need anything," she said pointedly, and watched Corny's cheerful face dissolve into a worried silence as he shared a look with Luis. Kaye didn't like that look, so she turned away and began to throw things into her green canvas bag, now speckled with brighter green paint.
As she reached the door, maneuvering into her coat, she turned back briefly to throw them a reassuring, insincere smile. "I'll be back soon."
"Please," Corny said, quietly, and Kaye shut the door.
***
The icy air hit her face the minute she stepped outside. New York in December was cold and dry. The snow crunched under her feet as she walked down the sidewalk, absorbing the noise from the city and leaving the street feeling unnaturally quiet.
Kaye paused after walking a block and wrapped her scarf around her nose, thickening her glamour to dull the cold. The magic came easily to her fingers, but it felt lackluster. The iron of the city was everywhere, and though Ravus's potions helped, she could still feel it. The end result was a sort of constant stomachache.
A squirrel jumped across the sidewalk, sniffing the snow-covered ground.
"My tummy hurts," Kaye said to it, and it looked at her sideways, before scurrying under a nearby car.
"Thanks," she said, amused, and tried to blow steam rings in the air with her breath. It didn't work. She'd always tried, ever since she was young and had wanted to copy her mother, whose skill with smoke rings was notorious amongst her friends. The stale smell of cigarettes was always a comforting smell, and it reminded Kaye of Ellen. The shop-not yet Moon in a Cup, but somewhere in between-smelled like flour and iron. It did not smell like home, and this worried Kaye. Somehow, in her dreams, she'd imagined the coffeeshop to be home. The home she'd never had.
This was not a comforting thought. She realized she was walking in the direction of the Hudson, and continued, walking haphazardly through the snow, before tripping rather spectacularly over a crack in the sidewalk hidden under the ice. The glamour made her clumsy.
"Shit," she hissed out loud, tasting the word on her tongue, feeling the sharp pain of the cold ice on the palms of her glamoured hands. "Fuck." She didn't know any faerie curses.
She didn't know any faerie anything, really. "Fuck," Kaye said again. "Fucking ice."
"Eloquent," said an amused voice from behind her. Startled, Kaye almost jumped into the air, forgetting that she couldn't simply hover above the ground, and ended up slipping again, falling hard onto her hip.
A long, large hand, smelling of glamour and earth, reached out toward her. "Humans seem to have such a fondness for obscenity."
"Ravus," Kaye breathed, relieved. The troll was heavily glamoured, the edges around his monstrous form softened and smaller. He was wearing a black trenchoat, and his black, shaggy hair spilled over his hunched shoulders. She took his hand, leaning on him as he gently pulled her to her feet.
Her cheeks burned as she realized he'd just watched her spectacularly fall and then swear. "Sorry," she murmured.
Ravus waved this away with a hand, his bright golden eyes gleaming in the light from the streetlamps. Kaye looked up at him, seeing the glamour and seeing what was underneath it at the same time. She'd become fond of Ravus over the month that she'd known him. Luis liked him-a feat, as his appearance was even more exaggerated than the average member of the fae, and Luis was not one to enjoy their company. The troll was, however, not the average member of fae, either, as his presence was comforting and solid and soft at the same time. Kaye had a feeling that this was partially due to the nature of the city. Exiles were different than the members of the Courts, even if they weren't exiles anymore.
"It is cold. Why are you not inside your store?"
"I was taking a break," Kaye said.
Ravus nodded, as if he understood this better than she thought, and reached into his coat, pulling a dark bottle from it. "Drink this. It should ease the pain."
She took it and downed it in solid gulps, not bothering to ask him about it. At first she had been wary about taking the potions, but Luis had assured her that they would help, and they did. The pain began to cease almost immediately, and she took a big breath of relief.
"Where's Val?" She asked, curiously, and handed back the bottle to him, feeling the magic liquid begin to run through her veins. "I thought she was coming tonight."
Ravus's golden eyes flickered warmly at the mention of Val's name. "She is," he replied softly. "She went to retrieve Ruth from the train station."
Kaye nodded. She liked Val, too. Once upon a time, maybe in an alternate universe, they could have been friends. Kaye thought she would have liked that. Val was human, but quieter than Luis or Corny in groups. Her thick, gingery stubble was beginning to grow out. Her voice was almost musical. She was very solid, and strong, and brave.
Kaye remembered watching her fight Mabry. Val was much, much more brave than Kaye.
At first, the idea of anyone finding Ravus attractive had been a bit of a trouble to swallow, it was true. But Kaye had watched them together, and she liked the way they glanced at each other, as if by being close they each held the world in their arms.
"You should go," she said, softly. "To the shop, I mean. Corny and Luis are there. They've got some food and wine. Bagels and Thai food."
The troll made a noise that sounded like approval. "Will you be returning?"
"Soon," she assured him. "I just-need to take a walk."
"Do not walk too far, pixie. The solstice has only just passed. The fae do not celebrate as humans do. It is a time of rejoicing, but a time of tricks as well."
"It's always a time of tricks."
Was that a laugh? Kaye couldn't tell. "A pixie indeed."
***
Central Park in winter was white and endless. Kaye walked down a pathway of sheer white snow, looking at the patterns her feet made.
She missed Janet. The winters she had spent in New Jersey had always been better than the cramped, rushed winters at Ellen's various apartments. Once upon a time-it seemed so long ago-Kaye and Janet had run through the woods behind their houses, picking up sticks and pretending to be knights in armor, princesses and witches. The whole world was their playhouse. They had braided each other's hair.
Janet's hair, floating out behind her in the dirty sand and water, her lifeless lips pale.
Would the pain ever go away? This couldn't be cured by a potion. The grief was still so strong, and it was always there, at the back of her mind, waiting to spread down her back, through her veins and through her wings.
She pulled the glamour from her body and let her wings spread out underneath the big black coat that she had stolen from her mother. The cold air smelled sweet, more like trees than like iron.
"Ahhh," whispered something to her left. She turned sharply to see a beautiful faerie dressed in pure white, with long, white hair and ice blue eyes, almost too beautiful to be a male. Beyond him, the glowing lights of the faerie's playland, deep in the center of the park, glowed amongst high noises of laughter.
Central Park. On a solstice. She cursed herself inwardly, folding her wings against her back.
"Does the pretty pixie want a wish?" The faerie moved toward her, smiling, showing bright yellow, sharp teeth. Kaye shuddered, and moved backward. "Pretty pretty pixie. So pretty."
She paused.
She couldn't always expect Roiben to save her. Especially not now.
"Leave me alone," she said, as dangerously as she could, and launched herself in the air, pulling the coat off to let herself fly backward, away. "I don't want a wish-I want to be left alone."
The faerie frowned dangerously, teeth becoming sharper, flicking its tongue between its canines. "Pretty pixie flies. Pretty pixie. Stupid pretty pixie."
"Leave me alone," Kaye shouted, louder than she had meant to. She heard voices off in the distance, sounding surprised.
No. She didn't want to deal with any other fae tonight. She didn't want to hear them call her consort, hear them tease her over her relation to the King, the smart, witty pixie. The pixie who talked and acted like a human. The silly, pretty, stupid pixie.
She flew up and out, far away, away from the lights, into the distance and the great, towering buildings of iron. Kaye would take iron over the fae, mortals over the immortal, the things she knew over the things she didn't.
Hot, burning tears ran down her cheeks. She was so stupid.
She collapsed on the bench of a bus stop after she'd exhausted herself of flying-she'd gotten better at it, but it still took so much energy-and cried big, deep, sad sobs. She missed Janet. She missed Roiben. She wanted his arms around her, his laughter, his voice against her neck, the sweet feel of his kisses on her shoulders. His mirth at her. His love for her. She wanted it, and she missed it. The shop was such a dumb idea. She was a pixie and a human all at once, and she couldn't fit in anywhere, everywhere. What had she been thinking?
"Are you alright?"
Kaye looked up to see a small face peering into hers. She realized immediately that in her flight she had forgot to seal the glamour back onto her face, but the small child looking up at her did not seem to be frightened. It took her a minute to realize why.
"Kate," Kaye said, slowly, "why are you outside?"
The small, miniature version of herself at age five shrugged, long, pale blonde hair swishing over her sweater and coat. At least she'd had the sense to get dressed properly for the cold. "Ellen's asleep."
Kaye looked around. She was at the corner that Ellen's apartment stood on. As she replaced her glamour, feeling it cover her face and wings, she took a deep breath and stood off the bench, frowning at Kate. The child looked back, wide eyed and completely unafraid. Not even Corny managed to hide the fear sometimes when he watched her change. Kate was something alien, something different. The blue eyes that she'd seen so often in the mirror were calmer than they had ever been in her own face.
"Has she been drinking? Ellen?" Kaye said, finally, after a long pause.
"No," Kate said. "She's just asleep."
Kaye checked her phone, after fumbling around for it in her coat pocket. It was eleven. "Shouldn't you be asleep?
Kate shrugged again. "Wasn't tired."
Kaye took a deep, deliberate breath, and looked up at the apartment, licking her lips tiredly. "We should go back inside," she decided, offering her hand to Kate.
To her surprise, the girl took it.
Kaye felt a little bit of the sadness and the loneliness fade away as they walked back together, hand in hand, to the gate.
***
She was in her makeshift room in Ellen's apartment, pulling on some warm legwarmers and some new, non-wet socks, when the small rock hit the window. Kaye blinked at the frame, before climbing onto the couch and peering out into the apartment complex's courtyard.
Rath Roiben Rye, King of the Bright and Night Courts, stood below her, underneath a tree, his silver hair flowing behind him, with a tiny, cheerful figure perched on his shoulder. Lutie.
She opened the window and stared down at him.
He stared back. Lutie twittered.
"Should I let down my hair?" She called, finally.
"For me to climb on?" He called back. "One thinks that that would be quite painful, and I do not recall your hair being that lengthy--"
"I'm a pixie," she yelled back. "I'm a fucking magical being. I'll make it grow."
His laughter startled her. She realized that he looked healthier, and happier, and somehow relieved. Before she knew it, she had flown down from the window, trailing half a load of laundry and one leg warmer behind her as she dived into his arms, knocking him backward. A dozen clean shirts floated around them. One covered Lutie into the snow.
Kaye, the pixie consort of the King of the Courts, pressed her pointed ear to the King's chest. "You're a jerk," she said. And just like that, despite the million of other things she could say to him, she felt forgiveness wash over her in a wave.
"I realize that I have been not kind in the amount of visits I have made to you," he said, softly, running a hand through her green, shimmering hair. A red sock landed behind him in the snow. "I am sorry. The Courts are demanding-there is much to be done-"
She kissed him so hard that he made a shocked, warm noise before his mouth opened up to hers. He tasted exactly like he should.
She leaned back a minute later, grinning. "You talk too much."
"Do I?"
"The others are waiting," she whispered, and felt his heart beating against her palm. "We should see them. You need to see the shop."
He smiled. "Lutie told me that it is green."
"Almost. Not yet. Thank you for the rabbit skins."
"They are of no use to me without the rabbits underneath them."
"They make a really good paint. I hadn't thought about it before. It would be kind of gross if it weren't so useful."
His hand traced circles on her back. Her heart sang. "I missed you," he whispered, his forehead touching hers.
Kaye Fierch smiled.
"I knew you would," she said.
The pain was still there. But it lessened as he pulled her to her feet, wrapped his fingers around her waist, and let her lead him out of the courtyard.
The night was just beginning. There was champagne to drink and coffee to mix and paint to spread over walls. She thought of the gift she had to give him-a butterfly in a jar, painted with magic to swirl when lifted-and grinned quietly as she felt his fingers stroke the inner skin of her green arm.
It wasn't perfect, but it was beautiful and right and good, and it was more than enough.